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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Stories in Light and Shadow, by Bret Harte
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Stories in Light and Shadow
+
+Author: Bret Harte
+
+Release Date: May 18, 2006 [EBook #2508]
+Last Updated: March 4, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES IN LIGHT AND SHADOW ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Donald Lainson
+
+
+
+
+
+STORIES IN LIGHT AND SHADOW
+
+By Bret Harte
+
+
+From: “ARGONAUT EDITION” OF THE WORKS OF BRET HARTE, VOL. 13
+
+P. F. COLLIER & SON
+
+NEW YORK
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+“UNSER KARL”
+
+UNCLE JIM AND UNCLE BILLY
+
+SEE YUP
+
+THE DESBOROUGH CONNECTIONS
+
+SALOMY JANE'S KISS
+
+THE MAN AND THE MOUNTAIN
+
+THE PASSING OF ENRIQUEZ
+
+
+
+
+STORIES IN LIGHT AND SHADOW
+
+
+
+
+“UNSER KARL”
+
+
+The American consul for Schlachtstadt had just turned out of the broad
+Konig's Allee into the little square that held his consulate. Its
+residences always seemed to him to wear that singularly uninhabited air
+peculiar to a street scene in a theatre. The facades, with their stiff,
+striped wooden awnings over the windows, were of the regularity, color,
+and pattern only seen on the stage, and conversation carried on in the
+street below always seemed to be invested with that perfect confidence
+and security which surrounds the actor in his painted desert of urban
+perspective. Yet it was a peaceful change to the other byways and
+highways of Schlachtstadt which were always filled with an equally
+unreal and mechanical soldiery, who appeared to be daily taken out of
+their boxes of “caserne” or “depot” and loosely scattered all over
+the pretty linden-haunted German town. There were soldiers standing on
+street corners; soldiers staring woodenly into shop windows; soldiers
+halted suddenly into stone, like lizards, at the approach of Offiziere;
+Offiziere lounging stiffly four abreast, sweeping the pavement with
+their trailing sabres all at one angle. There were cavalcades of
+red hussars, cavalcades of blue hussars, cavalcades of Uhlans, with
+glittering lances and pennons--with or without a band--formally
+parading; there were straggling “fatigues” or “details” coming round
+the corners; there were dusty, businesslike columns of infantry, going
+nowhere and to no purpose. And they one and all seemed to be WOUND
+UP--for that service--and apparently always in the same place. In the
+band of their caps--invariably of one pattern--was a button, in the
+centre of which was a square opening or keyhole. The consul was always
+convinced that through this keyhole opening, by means of a key, the
+humblest caporal wound up his file, the Hauptmann controlled his
+lieutenants and non-commissioned officers, and even the general himself,
+wearing the same cap, was subject through his cap to a higher moving
+power. In the suburbs, when the supply of soldiers gave out, there
+were sentry-boxes; when these dropped off, there were “caissons,” or
+commissary wagons. And, lest the military idea should ever fail from
+out the Schlachtstadt's burgher's mind, there were police in uniform,
+street-sweepers in uniform; the ticket-takers, guards, and sweepers at
+the Bahnhof were in uniform,--but all wearing the same kind of cap, with
+the probability of having been wound up freshly each morning for their
+daily work. Even the postman delivered peaceful invoices to the consul
+with his side-arms and the air of bringing dispatches from the field
+of battle; and the consul saluted, and felt for a few moments the whole
+weight of his consular responsibility.
+
+Yet, in spite of this military precedence, it did not seem in the least
+inconsistent with the decidedly peaceful character of the town, and this
+again suggested its utter unreality; wandering cows sometimes got mixed
+up with squadrons of cavalry, and did not seem to mind it; sheep passed
+singly between files of infantry, or preceded them in a flock when on
+the march; indeed, nothing could be more delightful and innocent than
+to see a regiment of infantry in heavy marching order, laden with every
+conceivable thing they could want for a week, returning after a cheerful
+search for an invisible enemy in the suburbs, to bivouac peacefully
+among the cabbages in the market-place. Nobody was ever imposed upon
+for a moment by their tremendous energy and severe display; drums might
+beat, trumpets blow, dragoons charge furiously all over the Exercier
+Platz, or suddenly flash their naked swords in the streets to the
+guttural command of an officer--nobody seemed to mind it. People glanced
+up to recognize Rudolf or Max “doing their service,” nodded, and went
+about their business. And although the officers always wore their
+side-arms, and at the most peaceful of social dinners only relinquished
+their swords in the hall, apparently that they might be ready to buckle
+them on again and rush out to do battle for the Fatherland between the
+courses, the other guests only looked upon these weapons in the light
+of sticks and umbrellas, and possessed their souls in peace. And
+when, added to this singular incongruity, many of these warriors were
+spectacled, studious men, and, despite their lethal weapons, wore a
+slightly professional air, and were--to a man--deeply sentimental and
+singularly simple, their attitude in this eternal Kriegspiel seemed to
+the consul more puzzling than ever.
+
+As he entered his consulate he was confronted with another aspect of
+Schlachtstadt quite as wonderful, yet already familiar to him. For,
+in spite of these “alarums without,” which, however, never seem to
+penetrate beyond the town itself, Schlachtstadt and its suburbs were
+known all over the world for the manufactures of certain beautiful
+textile fabrics, and many of the rank and file of those warriors had
+built up the fame and prosperity of the district over their peaceful
+looms in wayside cottages. There were great depots and counting-houses,
+larger than even the cavalry barracks, where no other uniform but that
+of the postman was known. Hence it was that the consul's chief duty
+was to uphold the flag of his own country by the examination
+and certification of divers invoices sent to his office by the
+manufacturers. But, oddly enough, these business messengers were chiefly
+women,--not clerks, but ordinary household servants, and, on busy days,
+the consulate might have been mistaken for a female registry office,
+so filled and possessed it was by waiting Madchen. Here it was that
+Gretchen, Lieschen, and Clarchen, in the cleanest of blue gowns, and
+stoutly but smartly shod, brought their invoices in a piece of clean
+paper, or folded in a blue handkerchief, and laid them, with fingers
+more or less worn and stubby from hard service, before the consul for
+his signature. Once, in the case of a very young Madchen, that signature
+was blotted by the sweep of a flaxen braid upon it as the child turned
+to go; but generally there was a grave, serious business instinct and
+sense of responsibility in these girls of ordinary peasant origin which,
+equally with their sisters of France, were unknown to the English or
+American woman of any class.
+
+That morning, however, there was a slight stir among those who, with
+their knitting, were waiting their turn in the outer office as the
+vice-consul ushered the police inspector into the consul's private
+office. He was in uniform, of course, and it took him a moment to
+recover from his habitual stiff, military salute,--a little stiffer than
+that of the actual soldier.
+
+It was a matter of importance! A stranger had that morning been arrested
+in the town and identified as a military deserter. He claimed to be an
+American citizen; he was now in the outer office, waiting the consul's
+interrogation.
+
+The consul knew, however, that the ominous accusation had only a mild
+significance here. The term “military deserter” included any one who
+had in youth emigrated to a foreign country without first fulfilling his
+military duty to his fatherland. His first experiences of these cases
+had been tedious and difficult,--involving a reference to his Minister
+at Berlin, a correspondence with the American State Department, a
+condition of unpleasant tension, and finally the prolonged detention of
+some innocent German--naturalized--American citizen, who had forgotten
+to bring his papers with him in revisiting his own native country. It so
+chanced, however, that the consul enjoyed the friendship and confidence
+of the General Adlerkreutz, who commanded the 20th Division, and it
+further chanced that the same Adlerkreutz was as gallant a soldier as
+ever cried Vorwarts! at the head of his men, as profound a military
+strategist and organizer as ever carried his own and his enemy's
+plans in his iron head and spiked helmet, and yet with as simple and
+unaffected a soul breathing under his gray mustache as ever issued from
+the lips of a child. So this grim but gentle veteran had arranged
+with the consul that in cases where the presumption of nationality
+was strong, although the evidence was not present, he would take the
+consul's parole for the appearance of the “deserter” or his papers,
+without the aid of prolonged diplomacy. In this way the consul had saved
+to Milwaukee a worthy but imprudent brewer, and to New York an excellent
+sausage butcher and possible alderman; but had returned to martial duty
+one or two tramps or journeymen who had never seen America except from
+the decks of the ships in which they were “stowaways,” and on which they
+were returned,--and thus the temper and peace of two great nations were
+preserved.
+
+“He says,” said the inspector severely, “that he is an American citizen,
+but has lost his naturalization papers. Yet he has made the damaging
+admission to others that he lived several years in Rome! And,” continued
+the inspector, looking over his shoulder at the closed door as he placed
+his finger beside his nose, “he says he has relations living
+at Palmyra, whom he frequently visited. Ach! Observe this
+unheard-of-and-not-to-be-trusted statement!”
+
+The consul, however, smiled with a slight flash of intelligence. “Let me
+see him,” he said.
+
+They passed into the outer office; another policeman and a corporal of
+infantry saluted and rose. In the centre of an admiring and sympathetic
+crowd of Dienstmadchen sat the culprit, the least concerned of the
+party; a stripling--a boy--scarcely out of his teens! Indeed, it was
+impossible to conceive of a more innocent, bucolic, and almost angelic
+looking derelict. With a skin that had the peculiar white and rosiness
+of fresh pork, he had blue eyes, celestially wide open and staring, and
+the thick flocculent yellow curls of the sun god! He might have been
+an overgrown and badly dressed Cupid who had innocently wandered from
+Paphian shores. He smiled as the consul entered, and wiped from his
+full red lips with the back of his hand the traces of a sausage he was
+eating. The consul recognized the flavor at once,--he had smelled it
+before in Lieschen's little hand-basket.
+
+“You say you lived at Rome?” began the consul pleasantly. “Did you take
+out your first declaration of your intention of becoming an American
+citizen there?”
+
+The inspector cast an approving glance at the consul, fixed a stern eye
+on the cherubic prisoner, and leaned back in his chair to hear the reply
+to this terrible question.
+
+“I don't remember,” said the culprit, knitting his brows in infantine
+thought. “It was either there, or at Madrid or Syracuse.”
+
+The inspector was about to rise; this was really trifling with the
+dignity of the municipality. But the consul laid his hand on the
+official's sleeve, and, opening an American atlas to a map of the State
+of New York, said to the prisoner, as he placed the inspector's hand on
+the sheet, “I see you know the names of the TOWNS on the Erie and New
+York Central Railroad. But”--
+
+“I can tell you the number of people in each town and what are the
+manufactures,” interrupted the young fellow, with youthful vanity.
+“Madrid has six thousand, and there are over sixty thousand in”--
+
+“That will do,” said the consul, as a murmur of Wunderschon! went round
+the group of listening servant girls, while glances of admiration were
+shot at the beaming accused. “But you ought to remember the name of the
+town where your naturalization papers were afterwards sent.”
+
+“But I was a citizen from the moment I made my declaration,” said the
+stranger smiling, and looking triumphantly at his admirers, “and I could
+vote!”
+
+The inspector, since he had come to grief over American geographical
+nomenclature, was grimly taciturn. The consul, however, was by no means
+certain of his victory. His alleged fellow citizen was too encyclopaedic
+in his knowledge: a clever youth might have crammed for this with a
+textbook, but then he did not LOOK at all clever; indeed, he had rather
+the stupidity of the mythological subject he represented. “Leave him
+with me,” said the consul. The inspector handed him a precis of the
+case. The cherub's name was Karl Schwartz, an orphan, missing from
+Schlachtstadt since the age of twelve. Relations not living, or in
+emigration. Identity established by prisoner's admission and record.
+
+“Now, Karl,” said the consul cheerfully, as the door of his private
+office closed upon them, “what is your little game? Have you EVER had
+any papers? And if you were clever enough to study the map of New York
+State, why weren't you clever enough to see that it wouldn't stand you
+in place of your papers?”
+
+“Dot's joost it,” said Karl in English; “but you see dot if I haf
+declairet mine intention of begomming a citizen, it's all the same,
+don't it?”
+
+“By no means, for you seem to have no evidence of the DECLARATION; no
+papers at all.”
+
+“Zo!” said Karl. Nevertheless, he pushed his small, rosy,
+pickled-pig's-feet of fingers through his fleecy curls and beamed
+pleasantly at the consul. “Dot's vot's der matter,” he said, as if
+taking a kindly interest in some private trouble of the consul's. “Dot's
+vere you vos, eh?”
+
+The consul looked steadily at him for a moment. Such stupidity was by
+no means phenomenal, nor at all inconsistent with his appearance. “And,”
+ continued the consul gravely, “I must tell you that, unless you have
+other proofs than you have shown, it will be my duty to give you up to
+the authorities.”
+
+“Dot means I shall serve my time, eh?” said Karl, with an unchanged
+smile.
+
+“Exactly so,” returned the consul.
+
+“Zo!” said karl. “Dese town--dose Schlachtstadt--is fine town, eh? Fine
+vomens. Goot men. Und beer und sausage. Blenty to eat and drink, eh?
+Und,” looking around the room, “you and te poys haf a gay times.”
+
+“Yes,” said the consul shortly, turning away. But he presently faced
+round again on the unfettered Karl, who was evidently indulging in a
+gormandizing reverie.
+
+“What on earth brought you here, anyway?”
+
+“Was it das?”
+
+“What brought you here from America, or wherever you ran away from?”
+
+“To see der, volks.”
+
+“But you are an ORPHAN, you know, and you have no folks living here.”
+
+“But all Shermany is mine volks,--de whole gountry, don't it? Pet your
+poots! How's dot, eh?”
+
+The consul turned back to his desk and wrote a short note to General
+Adlerkreutz in his own American German. He did not think it his duty
+in the present case to interfere with the authorities or to offer his
+parole for Karl Schwartz. But he would claim that, as the offender
+was evidently an innocent emigrant and still young, any punishment or
+military degradation be omitted, and he be allowed to take his place
+like any other recruit in the ranks. If he might have the temerity to
+the undoubted, far-seeing military authority of suggestion making here,
+he would suggest that Karl was for the commissariat fitted! Of course,
+he still retained the right, on production of satisfactory proof, his
+discharge to claim.
+
+The consul read this aloud to Karl. The cherubic youth smiled and said,
+“Zo!” Then, extending his hand, he added the word “Zshake!”
+
+The consul shook his hand a little remorsefully, and, preceding him to
+the outer room, resigned him with the note into the inspector's hands. A
+universal sigh went up from the girls, and glances of appeal sought the
+consul; but he wisely concluded that it would be well, for a while, that
+Karl--a helpless orphan--should be under some sort of discipline! And
+the securer business of certifying invoices recommenced.
+
+Late that afternoon he received a folded bit of blue paper from the
+waistbelt of an orderly, which contained in English characters and as
+a single word “Alright,” followed by certain jagged pen-marks, which he
+recognized as Adlerkreutz's signature. But it was not until a week later
+that he learned anything definite. He was returning one night to his
+lodgings in the residential part of the city, and, in opening the door
+with his pass-key, perceived in the rear of the hall his handmaiden
+Trudschen, attended by the usual blue or yellow or red shadow. He was
+passing by them with the local 'n' Abend! on his lips when the soldier
+turned his face and saluted. The consul stopped. It was the cherub Karl
+in uniform!
+
+But it had not subdued a single one of his characteristics. His hair
+had been cropped a little more closely under his cap, but there was its
+color and woolliness still intact; his plump figure was girt by belt and
+buttons, but he only looked the more unreal, and more like a combination
+of pen-wiper and pincushion, until his puffy breast and shoulders seemed
+to offer a positive invitation to any one who had picked up a pin. But,
+wonderful!--according to his brief story--he had been so proficient
+in the goose step that he had been put in uniform already, and allowed
+certain small privileges,--among them, evidently the present one.
+The consul smiled and passed on. But it seemed strange to him that
+Trudschen, who was a tall strapping girl, exceedingly popular with
+the military, and who had never looked lower than a corporal at least,
+should accept the attentions of an Einjahriger like that. Later he
+interrogated her.
+
+Ach! it was only Unser Karl! And the consul knew he was Amerikanisch!
+
+“Indeed!”
+
+“Yes! It was such a tearful story!”
+
+“Tell me what it is,” said the consul, with a faint hope that Karl had
+volunteered some communication of his past.
+
+“Ach Gott! There in America he was a man, and could 'vote,' make laws,
+and, God willing, become a town councilor,--or Ober Intendant,--and
+here he was nothing but a soldier for years. And this America was a
+fine country. Wunderschon? There were such big cities, and one
+'Booflo'--could hold all Schlachtstadt, and had of people five hundred
+thousand!”
+
+The consul sighed. Karl had evidently not yet got off the line of the
+New York Central and Erie roads. “But does he remember yet what he did
+with his papers?” said the consul persuasively.
+
+“Ach! What does he want with PAPERS when he could make the laws? They
+were dumb, stupid things--these papers--to him.”
+
+“But his appetite remains good, I hope?” suggested the consul.
+
+This closed the conversation, although Karl came on many other nights,
+and his toy figure quite supplanted the tall corporal of hussars in the
+remote shadows of the hall. One night, however, the consul returned home
+from a visit to a neighboring town a day earlier than he was expected.
+As he neared his house he was a little surprised to find the windows of
+his sitting-room lit up, and that there were no signs of Trudschen in
+the lower hall or passages. He made his way upstairs in the dark and
+pushed open the door of his apartment. To his astonishment, Karl was
+sitting comfortably in his own chair, his cap off before a student-lamp
+on the table, deeply engaged in apparent study. So profound was his
+abstraction that it was a moment before he looked up, and the consul had
+a good look at his usually beaming and responsive face, which, however,
+now struck him as wearing a singular air of thought and concentration.
+When their eyes at last met, he rose instantly and saluted, and
+his beaming smile returned. But, either from his natural phlegm or
+extraordinary self-control he betrayed neither embarrassment nor alarm.
+
+The explanation he gave was direct and simple. Trudschen had gone out
+with the Corporal Fritz for a short walk, and had asked him to “keep
+house” during their absence. He had no books, no papers, nothing to read
+in the barracks, and no chance to improve his mind. He thought the Herr
+Consul would not object to his looking at his books. The consul was
+touched; it was really a trivial indiscretion and as much Trudschen's
+fault as Karl's! And if the poor fellow had any mind to improve,--his
+recent attitude certainly suggested thought and reflection,--the consul
+were a brute to reprove him. He smiled pleasantly as Karl returned a
+stubby bit of pencil and some greasy memoranda to his breast pocket, and
+glanced at the table. But to his surprise it was a large map that Karl
+had been studying, and, to his still greater surprise, a map of the
+consul's own district.
+
+“You seem to be fond of map-studying,” said the consul pleasantly. “You
+are not thinking of emigrating again?”
+
+“Ach, no!” said Karl simply; “it is my cousine vot haf lif near here. I
+find her.”
+
+But he left on Trudschen's return, and the consul was surprised to
+see that, while Karl's attitude towards her had not changed, the girl
+exhibited less effusiveness than before. Believing it to be partly
+the effect of the return of the corporal, the consul taxed her with
+faithlessness. But Trudschen looked grave.
+
+“Ah! He has new friends, this Karl of ours. He cares no more for poor
+girls like us. When fine ladies like the old Frau von Wimpfel make much
+of him, what will you?”
+
+It appeared, indeed, from Trudschen's account, that the widow of a
+wealthy shopkeeper had made a kind of protege of the young soldier,
+and given him presents. Furthermore, that the wife of his colonel had
+employed him to act as page or attendant at an afternoon Gesellschaft,
+and that since then the wives of other officers had sought him. Did not
+the Herr Consul think it was dreadful that this American, who could vote
+and make laws, should be subjected to such things?
+
+The consul did not know what to think. It seemed to him, however, that
+Karl was “getting on,” and that he was not in need of his assistance.
+It was in the expectation of hearing more about him, however, that
+he cheerfully accepted an invitation from Adlerkreutz to dine at the
+Caserne one evening with the staff. Here he found, somewhat to his
+embarrassment, that the dinner was partly in his own honor, and at the
+close of five courses, and the emptying of many bottles, his health was
+proposed by the gallant veteran Adlerkreutz in a neat address of many
+syllables containing all the parts of speech and a single verb. It was
+to the effect that in his soul-friend the Herr Consul and himself was
+the never-to-be-severed union of Germania and Columbia, and in their
+perfect understanding was the war-defying alliance of two great nations,
+and that in the consul's noble restoration of Unser Karl to the German
+army there was the astute diplomacy of a great mind. He was satisfied
+that himself and the Herr Consul still united in the great future,
+looking down upon a common brotherhood,--the great Germanic-American
+Confederation,--would feel satisfied with themselves and each other
+and their never-to-be-forgotten earth-labors. Cries of “Hoch! Hoch!”
+ resounded through the apartment with the grinding roll of heavy-bottomed
+beer-glasses, and the consul, tremulous with emotion and a reserve verb
+in his pocket, rose to reply. Fully embarked upon this perilous voyage,
+and steering wide and clear of any treacherous shore of intelligence or
+fancied harbor of understanding and rest, he kept boldly out at sea. He
+said that, while his loving adversary in this battle of compliment had
+disarmed him and left him no words to reply to his generous panegyric,
+he could not but join with that gallant soldier in his heartfelt
+aspirations for the peaceful alliance of both countries. But while he
+fully reciprocated all his host's broader and higher sentiments, he must
+point out to this gallant assembly, this glorious brotherhood, that
+even a greater tie of sympathy knitted him to the general,--the tie of
+kinship! For while it was well known to the present company that their
+gallant commander had married an Englishwoman, he, the consul, although
+always an American, would now for the first time confess to them that he
+HIMSELF was of Dutch descent on his mother's side! He would say no more,
+but confidently leave them in possession of the tremendous significance
+of this until-then-unknown fact! He sat down, with the forgotten verb
+still in his pocket, but the applause that followed this perfectly
+conclusive, satisfying, and logical climax convinced him of his success.
+His hand was grasped eagerly by successive warriors; the general turned
+and embraced him before the breathless assembly; there were tears in the
+consul's eyes.
+
+As the festivities progressed, however, he found to his surprise that
+Karl had not only become the fashion as a military page, but that his
+naive stupidity and sublime simplicity was the wondering theme and
+inexhaustible delight of the whole barracks. Stories were told of his
+genius for blundering which rivaled Handy Andy's; old stories of fatuous
+ignorance were rearranged and fitted to “our Karl.” It was “our Karl”
+ who, on receiving a tip of two marks from the hands of a young lady to
+whom he had brought the bouquet of a gallant lieutenant, exhibited some
+hesitation, and finally said, “Yes, but, gnadiges Fraulein, that COST us
+nine marks!” It was “our Karl” who, interrupting the regrets of another
+lady that she was unable to accept his master's invitation, said
+politely, “Ah! what matter, Gnadigste? I have still a letter for
+Fraulein Kopp [her rival], and I was told that I must not invite you
+both.” It was “our Karl” who astonished the hostess to whom he was sent
+at the last moment with apologies from an officer, unexpectedly detained
+at barrack duty, by suggesting that he should bring that unfortunate
+officer his dinner from the just served table. Nor were these charming
+infelicities confined to his social and domestic service. Although
+ready, mechanical, and invariably docile in the manual and physical
+duties of a soldier,--which endeared him to the German drill-master,--he
+was still invincibly ignorant as to its purport, or even the meaning
+and structure of the military instruments he handled or vacantly
+looked upon. It was “our Karl” who suggested to his instructors that in
+field-firing it was quicker and easier to load his musket to the
+muzzle at once, and get rid of its death-dealing contents at a single
+discharge, than to load and fire consecutively. It was “our Karl” who
+nearly killed the instructor at sentry drill by adhering to the letter
+of his instructions when that instructor had forgotten the password.
+It was the same Karl who, severely admonished for his recklessness, the
+next time added to his challenge the precaution, “Unless you instantly
+say 'Fatherland' I'll fire!” Yet his perfect good humor and childlike
+curiosity were unmistakable throughout, and incited his comrades and
+his superiors to show him everything in the hope of getting some
+characteristic comment from him. Everything and everybody were open to
+Karl and his good-humored simplicity.
+
+That evening, as the general accompanied the consul down to the gateway
+and the waiting carriage, a figure in uniform ran spontaneously before
+them and shouted “Heraus!” to the sentries. But the general promptly
+checked “the turning out” of the guard with a paternal shake of his
+finger to the over-zealous soldier, in whom the consul recognized Karl.
+“He is my Bursche now,” said the general explanatorily. “My wife has
+taken a fancy to him. Ach! he is very popular with these women.” The
+consul was still more surprised. The Frau Generalin Adlerkreutz he
+knew to be a pronounced Englishwoman,--carrying out her English
+ways, proprieties, and prejudices in the very heart of Schlachtstadt,
+uncompromisingly, without fear and without reproach. That she should
+follow a merely foreign society craze, or alter her English household so
+as to admit the impossible Karl, struck him oddly.
+
+A month or two elapsed without further news of Karl, when one afternoon
+he suddenly turned up at the consulate. He had again sought the consular
+quiet to write a few letters home; he had no chance in the confinement
+of the barracks.
+
+“But by this time you must be in the family of a field-marshal, at
+least,” suggested the consul pleasantly.
+
+“Not to-day, but next week,” said Karl, with sublime simplicity; “THEN I
+am going to serve with the governor commandant of Rheinfestung.”
+
+The consul smiled, motioned him to a seat at a table in the outer
+office, and left him undisturbed to his correspondence.
+
+Returning later, he found Karl, his letters finished, gazing with
+childish curiosity and admiration at some thick official envelopes,
+bearing the stamp of the consulate, which were lying on the table. He
+was evidently struck with the contrast between them and the thin, flimsy
+affairs he was holding in his hand. He appeared still more impressed
+when the consul told him what they were.
+
+“Are you writing to your friends?” continued the consul, touched by his
+simplicity.
+
+“Ach ja!” said Karl eagerly.
+
+“Would you like to put your letter in one of these envelopes?” continued
+the official.
+
+The beaming face and eyes of Karl were a sufficient answer. After all,
+it was a small favor granted to this odd waif, who seemed to still cling
+to the consular protection. He handed him the envelope and left him
+addressing it in boyish pride.
+
+It was Karl's last visit to the consulate. He appeared to have spoken
+truly, and the consul presently learned that he had indeed been
+transferred, through some high official manipulation, to the personal
+service of the governor of Rheinfestung. There was weeping among the
+Dienstmadchen of Schlachtstadt, and a distinct loss of originality and
+lightness in the gatherings of the gentler Hausfrauen. His memory
+still survived in the barracks through the later editions of his
+former delightful stupidities,--many of them, it is to be feared,
+were inventions,--and stories that were supposed to have come from
+Rheinfestung were described in the slang of the Offiziere as being
+“colossal.” But the consul remembered Rheinfestung, and could not
+imagine it as a home for Karl, or in any way fostering his peculiar
+qualities. For it was eminently a fortress of fortresses, a magazine of
+magazines, a depot of depots. It was the key of the Rhine, the citadel
+of Westphalia, the “Clapham Junction” of German railways, but defended,
+fortified, encompassed, and controlled by the newest as well as the
+oldest devices of military strategy and science. Even in the pipingest
+time of peace, whole railway trains went into it like a rat in a trap,
+and might have never come out of it; it stretched out an inviting
+hand and arm across the river that might in the twinkling of an eye be
+changed into a closed fist of menace. You “defiled” into it, commanded
+at every step by enfilading walls; you “debouched” out of it, as you
+thought, and found yourself only before the walls; you “reentered” it at
+every possible angle; you did everything apparently but pass through it.
+You thought yourself well out of it, and were stopped by a bastion. Its
+circumvallations haunted you until you came to the next station. It had
+pressed even the current of the river into its defensive service. There
+were secrets of its foundations and mines that only the highest military
+despots knew and kept to themselves. In a word--it was impregnable.
+
+That such a place could not be trifled with or misunderstood in its
+right-and-acute-angled severities seemed plain to every one. But set on
+by his companions, who were showing him its defensive foundations, or
+in his own idle curiosity, Karl managed to fall into the Rhine and was
+fished out with difficulty. The immersion may have chilled his military
+ardor or soured his good humor, for later the consul heard that he had
+visited the American consular agent at an adjacent town with the old
+story of his American citizenship. “He seemed,” said the consul's
+colleague, “to be well posted about American railways and American
+towns, but he had no papers. He lounged around the office for a while
+and”--
+
+“Wrote letters home?” suggested the consul, with a flash of
+reminiscence.
+
+“Yes, the poor chap had no privacy at the barracks, and I reckon was
+overlooked or bedeviled.”
+
+This was the last the consul heard of Karl Schwartz directly; for a
+week or two later he again fell into the Rhine, this time so fatally and
+effectually that in spite of the efforts of his companions he was swept
+away by the rapid current, and thus ended his service to his country.
+His body was never recovered.
+
+A few months before the consul was transferred from Schlachtstadt to
+another post his memory of the departed Karl was revived by a visit from
+Adlerkreutz. The general looked grave.
+
+“You remember Unser Karl?” he said.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Do you think he was an impostor?”
+
+“As regards his American citizenship, yes! But I could not say more.”
+
+“So!” said the general. “A very singular thing has happened,” he added,
+twirling his mustache. “The Inspector of police has notified us of the
+arrival of a Karl Schwartz in this town. It appears he is the REAL Karl
+Schwartz, identified by his sister as the only one. The other, who was
+drowned, was an impostor. Hein?”
+
+“Then you have secured another recruit?” said the consul smilingly.
+
+“No. For this one has already served his time in Elsass, where he went
+when he left here as a boy. But, Donnerwetter, why should that dumb fool
+take his name?”
+
+“By chance, I fancy. Then he stupidly stuck to it, and had to take the
+responsibilities with it. Don't you see?” said the consul, pleased with
+his own cleverness.
+
+“Zo-o!” said the general slowly, in his deepest voice. But the German
+exclamation has a variety of significance, according to the inflection,
+and Adlerkreutz's ejaculation seemed to contain them all.
+
+*****
+
+It was in Paris, where the consul had lingered on his way to his new
+post. He was sitting in a well-known cafe, among whose habitues were
+several military officers of high rank. A group of them were gathered
+round a table near him. He was idly watching them with an odd
+recollection of Schlachtstadt in his mind, and as idly glancing from
+them to the more attractive Boulevard without. The consul was getting a
+little tired of soldiers.
+
+Suddenly there was a slight stir in the gesticulating group and a cry of
+greeting. The consul looked up mechanically, and then his eyes remained
+fixed and staring at the newcomer. For it was the dead Karl; Karl,
+surely! Karl!--his plump figure belted in a French officer's tunic; his
+flaxen hair clipped a little closer, but still its fleece showing under
+his kepi. Karl, his cheeks more cherubic than ever--unchanged but for a
+tiny yellow toy mustache curling up over the corners of his full lips.
+Karl, beaming at his companions in his old way, but rattling off French
+vivacities without the faintest trace of accent. Could he be mistaken?
+Was it some phenomenal resemblance, or had the soul of the German
+private been transmigrated to the French officer.
+
+The consul hurriedly called the garcon. “Who is that officer who has
+just arrived?”
+
+“It is the Captain Christian, of the Intelligence Bureau,” said the
+waiter, with proud alacrity. “A famous officer, brave as a rabbit,--un
+fier lapin,--and one of our best clients. So drole, too, such a farceur
+and mimic. M'sieur would be ravished to hear his imitations.”
+
+“But he looks like a German; and his name!”
+
+“Ah, he is from Alsace. But not a German!” said the waiter, absolutely
+whitening with indignation. “He was at Belfort. So was I. Mon Dieu! No,
+a thousand times no!”
+
+“But has he been living here long?” said the consul.
+
+“In Paris, a few months. But his Department, M'sieur understands, takes
+him EVERYWHERE! Everywhere where he can gain information.”
+
+The consul's eyes were still on the Captain Christian. Presently the
+officer, perhaps instinctively conscious of the scrutiny, looked towards
+him. Their eyes met. To the consul's surprise, the ci-devant Karl beamed
+upon him, and advanced with outstretched hand.
+
+But the consul stiffened slightly, and remained so with his glass in his
+hand. At which Captain Christian brought his own easily to a military
+salute, and said politely:--
+
+“Monsieur le Consul has been promoted from his post. Permit me to
+congratulate him.”
+
+“You have heard, then?” said the consul dryly.
+
+“Otherwise I should not presume. For our Department makes it a
+business--in Monsieur le Consul's case it becomes a pleasure--to know
+everything.”
+
+“Did your Department know that the real Karl Schwartz has returned?”
+ said the consul dryly.
+
+Captain Christian shrugged his shoulders. “Then it appears that the sham
+Karl died none too soon,” he said lightly. “And yet”--he bent his eyes
+with mischievous reproach upon the consul.
+
+“Yet what?” demanded the consul sternly.
+
+“Monsieur le Consul might have saved the unfortunate man by accepting
+him as an American citizen and not helping to force him into the German
+service.”
+
+The consul saw in a flash the full military significance of this logic,
+and could not repress a smile. At which Captain Christian dropped easily
+into a chair beside him, and as easily into broken German English:--
+
+“Und,” he went on, “dees town--dees Schlachtstadt is fine town, eh? Fine
+womens? Goot men? Und peer and sausage? Blenty to eat and trink, eh? Und
+you und te poys haf a gay times?”
+
+The consul tried to recover his dignity. The waiter behind him,
+recognizing only the delightful mimicry of this adorable officer, was in
+fits of laughter. Nevertheless, the consul managed to say dryly:--
+
+“And the barracks, the magazines, the commissariat, the details, the
+reserves of Schlachtstadt were very interesting?”
+
+“Assuredly.”
+
+“And Rheinfestung--its plans--its details, even its dangerous
+foundations by the river--they were to a soldier singularly
+instructive?”
+
+“You have reason to say so,” said Captain Christian, curling his little
+mustache.
+
+“And the fortress--you think?”
+
+“Imprenable! Mais”--
+
+The consul remembered General Adlerkreutz's “Zo-o,” and wondered.
+
+
+
+
+UNCLE JIM AND UNCLE BILLY
+
+
+They were partners. The avuncular title was bestowed on them by Cedar
+Camp, possibly in recognition of a certain matured good humor, quite
+distinct from the spasmodic exuberant spirits of its other members,
+and possibly from what, to its youthful sense, seemed their advanced
+ages--which must have been at least forty! They had also set habits
+even in their improvidence, lost incalculable and unpayable sums to
+each other over euchre regularly every evening, and inspected their
+sluice-boxes punctually every Saturday for repairs--which they never
+made. They even got to resemble each other, after the fashion of old
+married couples, or, rather, as in matrimonial partnerships, were
+subject to the domination of the stronger character; although in
+their case it is to be feared that it was the feminine Uncle
+Billy--enthusiastic, imaginative, and loquacious--who swayed the
+masculine, steady-going, and practical Uncle Jim. They had lived in the
+camp since its foundation in 1849; there seemed to be no reason why
+they should not remain there until its inevitable evolution into a
+mining-town. The younger members might leave through restless ambition
+or a desire for change or novelty; they were subject to no such trifling
+mutation. Yet Cedar Camp was surprised one day to hear that Uncle Billy
+was going away.
+
+The rain was softly falling on the bark thatch of the cabin with a
+muffled murmur, like a sound heard through sleep. The southwest trades
+were warm even at that altitude, as the open door testified, although
+a fire of pine bark was flickering on the adobe hearth and striking out
+answering fires from the freshly scoured culinary utensils on the rude
+sideboard, which Uncle Jim had cleaned that morning with his usual
+serious persistency. Their best clothes, which were interchangeable and
+worn alternately by each other on festal occasions, hung on the
+walls, which were covered with a coarse sailcloth canvas instead of
+lath-and-plaster, and were diversified by pictures from illustrated
+papers and stains from the exterior weather. Two “bunks,” like ships'
+berths,--an upper and lower one,--occupied the gable-end of this single
+apartment, and on beds of coarse sacking, filled with dry moss, were
+carefully rolled their respective blankets and pillows. They were the
+only articles not used in common, and whose individuality was respected.
+
+Uncle Jim, who had been sitting before the fire, rose as the square bulk
+of his partner appeared at the doorway with an armful of wood for the
+evening stove. By that sign he knew it was nine o'clock: for the last
+six years Uncle Billy had regularly brought in the wood at that hour,
+and Uncle Jim had as regularly closed the door after him, and set out
+their single table, containing a greasy pack of cards taken from its
+drawer, a bottle of whiskey, and two tin drinking-cups. To this was
+added a ragged memorandum-book and a stick of pencil. The two men drew
+their stools to the table.
+
+“Hol' on a minit,” said Uncle Billy.
+
+His partner laid down the cards as Uncle Billy extracted from his pocket
+a pill-box, and, opening it, gravely took a pill. This was clearly an
+innovation on their regular proceedings, for Uncle Billy was always in
+perfect health.
+
+“What's this for?” asked Uncle Jim half scornfully.
+
+“Agin ager.”
+
+“You ain't got no ager,” said Uncle Jim, with the assurance of intimate
+cognizance of his partner's physical condition.
+
+“But it's a pow'ful preventive! Quinine! Saw this box at Riley's store,
+and laid out a quarter on it. We kin keep it here, comfortable, for
+evenings. It's mighty soothin' arter a man's done a hard day's work on
+the river-bar. Take one.”
+
+Uncle Jim gravely took a pill and swallowed it, and handed the box back
+to his partner.
+
+“We'll leave it on the table, sociable like, in case any of the boys
+come in,” said Uncle Billy, taking up the cards. “Well. How do we
+stand?”
+
+Uncle Jim consulted the memorandum-book. “You were owin' me sixty-two
+thousand dollars on the last game, and the limit's seventy-five
+thousand!”
+
+“Je whillikins!” ejaculated Uncle Billy. “Let me see.”
+
+He examined the book, feebly attempted to challenge the additions, but
+with no effect on the total. “We oughter hev made the limit a hundred
+thousand,” he said seriously; “seventy-five thousand is only triflin'
+in a game like ours. And you've set down my claim at Angel's?” he
+continued.
+
+“I allowed you ten thousand dollars for that,” said Uncle Jim, with
+equal gravity, “and it's a fancy price too.”
+
+The claim in question being an unprospected hillside ten miles distant,
+which Uncle Jim had never seen, and Uncle Billy had not visited for
+years, the statement was probably true; nevertheless, Uncle Billy
+retorted:--
+
+“Ye kin never tell how these things will pan out. Why, only this mornin'
+I was taking a turn round Shot Up Hill, that ye know is just rotten with
+quartz and gold, and I couldn't help thinkin' how much it was like my
+ole claim at Angel's. I must take a day off to go on there and strike a
+pick in it, if only for luck.”
+
+Suddenly he paused and said, “Strange, ain't it, you should speak of it
+to-night? Now I call that queer!”
+
+He laid down his cards and gazed mysteriously at his companion. Uncle
+Jim knew perfectly that Uncle Billy had regularly once a week for
+many years declared his final determination to go over to Angel's and
+prospect his claim, yet nevertheless he half responded to his partner's
+suggestion of mystery, and a look of fatuous wonder crept into his eyes.
+But he contented himself by saying cautiously, “You spoke of it first.”
+
+“That's the more sing'lar,” said Uncle Billy confidently. “And I've been
+thinking about it, and kinder seeing myself thar all day. It's mighty
+queer!” He got up and began to rummage among some torn and coverless
+books in the corner.
+
+“Where's that 'Dream Book' gone to?”
+
+“The Carson boys borrowed it,” replied Uncle Jim. “Anyhow, yours wasn't
+no dream--only a kind o' vision, and the book don't take no stock in
+visions.” Nevertheless, he watched his partner with some sympathy, and
+added, “That reminds me that I had a dream the other night of being in
+'Frisco at a small hotel, with heaps o' money, and all the time being
+sort o' scared and bewildered over it.”
+
+“No?” queried his partner eagerly yet reproachfully. “You never let
+on anything about it to ME! It's mighty queer you havin' these strange
+feelin's, for I've had 'em myself. And only to-night, comin' up from
+the spring, I saw two crows hopping in the trail, and I says, 'If I see
+another, it's luck, sure!' And you'll think I'm lyin', but when I went
+to the wood-pile just now there was the THIRD one sittin' up on a log as
+plain as I see you. Tell 'e what folks ken laugh--but that's just what
+Jim Filgee saw the night before he made the big strike!”
+
+They were both smiling, yet with an underlying credulity and seriousness
+as singularly pathetic as it seemed incongruous to their years and
+intelligence. Small wonder, however, that in their occupation and
+environment--living daily in an atmosphere of hope, expectation, and
+chance, looking forward each morning to the blind stroke of a pick that
+might bring fortune--they should see signs in nature and hear mystic
+voices in the trackless woods that surrounded them. Still less strange
+that they were peculiarly susceptible to the more recognized diversions
+of chance, and were gamblers on the turning of a card who trusted to the
+revelation of a shovelful of upturned earth.
+
+It was quite natural, therefore, that they should return from their
+abstract form of divination to the table and their cards. But they were
+scarcely seated before they heard a crackling step in the brush outside,
+and the free latch of their door was lifted. A younger member of the
+camp entered. He uttered a peevish “Halloo!” which might have passed
+for a greeting, or might have been a slight protest at finding the door
+closed, drew the stool from which Uncle Jim had just risen before the
+fire, shook his wet clothes like a Newfoundland dog, and sat down. Yet
+he was by no means churlish nor coarse-looking, and this act was rather
+one of easy-going, selfish, youthful familiarity than of rudeness. The
+cabin of Uncles Billy and Jim was considered a public right or “common”
+ of the camp. Conferences between individual miners were appointed there.
+“I'll meet you at Uncle Billy's” was a common tryst. Added to this was a
+tacit claim upon the partners' arbitrative powers, or the equal right to
+request them to step outside if the interviews were of a private nature.
+Yet there was never any objection on the part of the partners, and
+to-night there was not a shadow of resentment of this intrusion in the
+patient, good-humored, tolerant eyes of Uncles Jim and Billy as they
+gazed at their guest. Perhaps there was a slight gleam of relief in
+Uncle Jim's when he found that the guest was unaccompanied by any one,
+and that it was not a tryst. It would have been unpleasant for the
+two partners to have stayed out in the rain while their guests were
+exchanging private confidences in their cabin. While there might have
+been no limit to their good will, there might have been some to their
+capacity for exposure.
+
+Uncle Jim drew a huge log from beside the hearth and sat on the driest
+end of it, while their guest occupied the stool. The young man, without
+turning away from his discontented, peevish brooding over the fire,
+vaguely reached backward for the whiskey-bottle and Uncle Billy's tin
+cup, to which he was assisted by the latter's hospitable hand. But on
+setting down the cup his eye caught sight of the pill-box.
+
+“Wot's that?” he said, with gloomy scorn. “Rat poison?”
+
+“Quinine pills--agin ager,” said Uncle Jim. “The newest thing out. Keeps
+out damp like Injin-rubber! Take one to follow yer whiskey. Me and Uncle
+Billy wouldn't think o' settin' down, quiet like, in the evening arter
+work, without 'em. Take one--ye 'r' welcome! We keep 'em out here for
+the boys.”
+
+Accustomed as the partners were to adopt and wear each other's opinions
+before folks, as they did each other's clothing, Uncle Billy was,
+nevertheless, astonished and delighted at Uncle Jim's enthusiasm over
+HIS pills. The guest took one and swallowed it.
+
+“Mighty bitter!” he said, glancing at his hosts with the quick
+Californian suspicion of some practical joke. But the honest faces of
+the partners reassured him.
+
+“That bitterness ye taste,” said Uncle Jim quickly, “is whar the
+thing's gittin' in its work. Sorter sickenin' the malaria--and kinder
+water-proofin' the insides all to onct and at the same lick! Don't yer
+see? Put another in yer vest pocket; you'll be cryin' for 'em like a
+child afore ye get home. Thar! Well, how's things agoin' on your claim,
+Dick? Boomin', eh?”
+
+The guest raised his head and turned it sufficiently to fling his answer
+back over his shoulder at his hosts. “I don't know what YOU'D call'
+boomin','” he said gloomily; “I suppose you two men sitting here
+comfortably by the fire, without caring whether school keeps or not,
+would call two feet of backwater over one's claim 'boomin';' I reckon
+YOU'D consider a hundred and fifty feet of sluicing carried away,
+and drifting to thunder down the South Fork, something in the way of
+advertising to your old camp! I suppose YOU'd think it was an inducement
+to investors! I shouldn't wonder,” he added still more gloomily, as a
+sudden dash of rain down the wide-throated chimney dropped in his
+tin cup--“and it would be just like you two chaps, sittin' there
+gormandizing over your quinine--if yer said this rain that's lasted
+three weeks was something to be proud of!”
+
+It was the cheerful and the satisfying custom of the rest of the camp,
+for no reason whatever, to hold Uncle Jim and Uncle Billy responsible
+for its present location, its vicissitudes, the weather, or any
+convulsion of nature; and it was equally the partners' habit, for no
+reason whatever, to accept these animadversions and apologize.
+
+“It's a rain that's soft and mellowin',” said Uncle Billy gently,
+“and supplin' to the sinews and muscles. Did ye ever notice,
+Jim”--ostentatiously to his partner--“did ye ever notice that you get
+inter a kind o' sweaty lather workin' in it? Sorter openin' to the
+pores!”
+
+“Fetches 'em every time,” said Uncle Billy. “Better nor fancy soap.”
+
+Their guest laughed bitterly. “Well, I'm going to leave it to you. I
+reckon to cut the whole concern to-morrow, and 'lite' out for something
+new. It can't be worse than this.”
+
+The two partners looked grieved, albeit they were accustomed to these
+outbursts. Everybody who thought of going away from Cedar Camp used it
+first as a threat to these patient men, after the fashion of runaway
+nephews, or made an exemplary scene of their going.
+
+“Better think twice afore ye go,” said Uncle Billy.
+
+“I've seen worse weather afore ye came,” said Uncle Jim slowly. “Water
+all over the Bar; the mud so deep ye couldn't get to Angel's for a
+sack o' flour, and we had to grub on pine nuts and jackass-rabbits. And
+yet--we stuck by the camp, and here we are!”
+
+The mild answer apparently goaded their guest to fury. He rose from his
+seat, threw back his long dripping hair from his handsome but querulous
+face, and scattered a few drops on the partners. “Yes, that's just it.
+That's what gets me! Here you stick, and here you are! And here you'll
+stick and rust until you starve or drown! Here you are,--two men who
+ought to be out in the world, playing your part as grown men,--stuck
+here like children 'playing house' in the woods; playing work in your
+wretched mud-pie ditches, and content. Two men not so old that you
+mightn't be taking your part in the fun of the world, going to balls
+or theatres, or paying attention to girls, and yet old enough to have
+married and have your families around you, content to stay in this
+God-forsaken place; old bachelors, pigging together like poorhouse
+paupers. That's what gets me! Say you LIKE it? Say you expect by
+hanging on to make a strike--and what does that amount to? What are YOUR
+chances? How many of us have made, or are making, more than grub wages?
+Say you're willing to share and share alike as you do--have you got
+enough for two? Aren't you actually living off each other? Aren't you
+grinding each other down, choking each other's struggles, as you sink
+together deeper and deeper in the mud of this cussed camp? And while
+you're doing this, aren't you, by your age and position here, holding
+out hopes to others that you know cannot be fulfilled?”
+
+Accustomed as they were to the half-querulous, half-humorous, but always
+extravagant, criticism of the others, there was something so new in this
+arraignment of themselves that the partners for a moment sat silent.
+There was a slight flush on Uncle Billy's cheek, there was a slight
+paleness on Uncle Jim's. He was the first to reply. But he did so with a
+certain dignity which neither his partner nor their guest had ever seen
+on his face before.
+
+“As it's OUR fire that's warmed ye up like this, Dick Bullen,” he said,
+slowly rising, with his hand resting on Uncle Billy's shoulder, “and as
+it's OUR whiskey that's loosened your tongue, I reckon we must put up
+with what ye 'r' saying, just as we've managed to put up with our own
+way o' living, and not quo'll with ye under our own roof.”
+
+The young fellow saw the change in Uncle Jim's face and quickly extended
+his hand, with an apologetic backward shake of his long hair. “Hang
+it all, old man,” he said, with a laugh of mingled contrition and
+amusement, “you mustn't mind what I said just now. I've been so worried
+thinking of things about MYSELF, and, maybe, a little about you, that I
+quite forgot I hadn't a call to preach to anybody--least of all to you.
+So we part friends, Uncle Jim, and you too, Uncle Billy, and you'll
+forget what I said. In fact, I don't know why I spoke at all--only I
+was passing your claim just now, and wondering how much longer your old
+sluice-boxes would hold out, and where in thunder you'd get others when
+they caved in! I reckon that sent me off. That's all, old chap!”
+
+Uncle Billy's face broke into a beaming smile of relief, and it was HIS
+hand that first grasped his guest's; Uncle Jim quickly followed with
+as honest a pressure, but with eyes that did not seem to be looking at
+Bullen, though all trace of resentment had died out of them. He walked
+to the door with him, again shook hands, but remained looking out in the
+darkness some time after Dick Bullen's tangled hair and broad shoulders
+had disappeared.
+
+Meantime, Uncle Billy had resumed his seat and was chuckling and
+reminiscent as he cleaned out his pipe.
+
+“Kinder reminds me of Jo Sharp, when he was cleaned out at poker by his
+own partners in his own cabin, comin' up here and bedevilin' US about
+it! What was it you lint him?”
+
+But Uncle Jim did not reply; and Uncle Billy, taking up the cards,
+began to shuffle them, smiling vaguely, yet at the same time somewhat
+painfully. “Arter all, Dick was mighty cut up about what he said, and I
+felt kinder sorry for him. And, you know, I rather cotton to a man that
+speaks his mind. Sorter clears him out, you know, of all the slumgullion
+that's in him. It's just like washin' out a pan o' prospecting: you pour
+in the water, and keep slushing it round and round, and out comes first
+the mud and dirt, and then the gravel, and then the black sand, and
+then--it's all out, and there's a speck o' gold glistenin' at the
+bottom!”
+
+“Then you think there WAS suthin' in what he said?” said Uncle Jim,
+facing about slowly.
+
+An odd tone in his voice made Uncle Billy look up. “No,” he said
+quickly, shying with the instinct of an easy pleasure-loving nature from
+a possible grave situation. “No, I don't think he ever got the color!
+But wot are ye moonin' about for? Ain't ye goin' to play? It's mor' 'n
+half past nine now.”
+
+Thus adjured, Uncle Jim moved up to the table and sat down, while Uncle
+Billy dealt the cards, turning up the Jack or right bower--but WITHOUT
+that exclamation of delight which always accompanied his good fortune,
+nor did Uncle Jim respond with the usual corresponding simulation of
+deep disgust. Such a circumstance had not occurred before in the history
+of their partnership. They both played in silence--a silence only
+interrupted by a larger splash of raindrops down the chimney.
+
+“We orter put a couple of stones on the chimney-top, edgewise, like Jack
+Curtis does. It keeps out the rain without interferin' with the draft,”
+ said Uncle Billy musingly.
+
+“What's the use if”--
+
+“If what?” said Uncle Billy quietly.
+
+“If we don't make it broader,” said Uncle Jim half wearily.
+
+They both stared at the chimney, but Uncle Jim's eye followed the wall
+around to the bunks. There were many discolorations on the canvas, and
+a picture of the Goddess of Liberty from an illustrated paper had broken
+out in a kind of damp, measly eruption. “I'll stick that funny handbill
+of the 'Washin' Soda' I got at the grocery store the other day right
+over the Liberty gal. It's a mighty perty woman washin' with short
+sleeves,” said Uncle Billy. “That's the comfort of them picters, you kin
+always get somethin' new, and it adds thickness to the wall.”
+
+Uncle Jim went back to the cards in silence. After a moment he rose
+again, and hung his overcoat against the door.
+
+“Wind's comin' in,” he said briefly.
+
+“Yes,” said Uncle Billy cheerfully, “but it wouldn't seem nat'ral if
+there wasn't that crack in the door to let the sunlight in o mornin's.
+Makes a kind o' sundial, you know. When the streak o' light's in
+that corner, I says 'six o'clock!' when it's across the chimney I say
+'seven!' and so 'tis!”
+
+It certainly had grown chilly, and the wind was rising. The
+candle guttered and flickered; the embers on the hearth brightened
+occasionally, as if trying to dispel the gathering shadows, but always
+ineffectually. The game was frequently interrupted by the necessity of
+stirring the fire. After an interval of gloom, in which each partner
+successively drew the candle to his side to examine his cards, Uncle Jim
+said:--
+
+“Say?”
+
+“Well!” responded Uncle Billy.
+
+“Are you sure you saw that third crow on the wood-pile?”
+
+“Sure as I see you now--and a darned sight plainer. Why?”
+
+“Nothin', I was just thinkin'. Look here! How do we stand now?”
+
+Uncle Billy was still losing. “Nevertheless,” he said cheerfully, “I'm
+owin' you a matter of sixty thousand dollars.”
+
+Uncle Jim examined the book abstractedly. “Suppose,” he said slowly, but
+without looking at his partner, “suppose, as it's gettin' late now, we
+play for my half share of the claim agin the limit--seventy thousand--to
+square up.”
+
+“Your half share!” repeated Uncle Billy, with amused incredulity.
+
+“My half share of the claim,--of this yer house, you know,--one half of
+all that Dick Bullen calls our rotten starvation property,” reiterated
+Uncle Jim, with a half smile.
+
+Uncle Billy laughed. It was a novel idea; it was, of course, “all in the
+air,” like the rest of their game, yet even then he had an odd feeling
+that he would have liked Dick Bullen to have known it. “Wade in, old
+pard,” he said. “I'm on it.”
+
+Uncle Jim lit another candle to reinforce the fading light, and the deal
+fell to Uncle Billy. He turned up Jack of clubs. He also turned a little
+redder as he took up his cards, looked at them, and glanced hastily at
+his partner. “It's no use playing,” he said. “Look here!” He laid down
+his cards on the table. They were the ace, king and queen of clubs,
+and Jack of spades,--or left bower,--which, with the turned-up Jack of
+clubs,--or right bower,--comprised ALL the winning cards!
+
+“By jingo! If we'd been playin' four-handed, say you an' me agin some
+other ducks, we'd have made 'four' in that deal, and h'isted some
+money--eh?” and his eyes sparkled. Uncle Jim, also, had a slight
+tremulous light in his own.
+
+“Oh no! I didn't see no three crows this afternoon,” added Uncle Billy
+gleefully, as his partner, in turn, began to shuffle the cards with
+laborious and conscientious exactitude. Then dealing, he turned up a
+heart for trumps. Uncle Billy took up his cards one by one, but when
+he had finished his face had become as pale as it had been red before.
+“What's the matter?” said Uncle Jim quickly, his own face growing white.
+
+Uncle Billy slowly and with breathless awe laid down his cards, face up
+on the table. It was exactly the same sequence IN HEARTS, with the knave
+of diamonds added. He could again take every trick.
+
+They stared at each other with vacant faces and a half-drawn smile of
+fear. They could hear the wind moaning in the trees beyond; there was a
+sudden rattling at the door. Uncle Billy started to his feet, but Uncle
+Jim caught his arm. “DON'T LEAVE THE CARDS! It's only the wind; sit
+down,” he said in a low awe-hushed voice, “it's your deal; you were two
+before, and two now, that makes your four; you've only one point to make
+to win the game. Go on.”
+
+They both poured out a cup of whiskey, smiling vaguely, yet with a
+certain terror in their eyes. Their hands were cold; the cards slipped
+from Uncle Billy's benumbed fingers; when he had shuffled them he passed
+them to his partner to shuffle them also, but did not speak. When Uncle
+Jim had shuffled them methodically he handed them back fatefully to his
+partner. Uncle Billy dealt them with a trembling hand. He turned up a
+club. “If you are sure of these tricks you know you've won,” said Uncle
+Jim in a voice that was scarcely audible. Uncle Billy did not reply, but
+tremulously laid down the ace and right and left bowers.
+
+He had won!
+
+A feeling of relief came over each, and they laughed hysterically and
+discordantly. Ridiculous and childish as their contest might have seemed
+to a looker-on, to each the tension had been as great as that of the
+greatest gambler, without the gambler's trained restraint, coolness, and
+composure. Uncle Billy nervously took up the cards again.
+
+“Don't,” said Uncle Jim gravely; “it's no use--the luck's gone now.”
+
+“Just one more deal,” pleaded his partner.
+
+Uncle Jim looked at the fire, Uncle Billy hastily dealt, and threw the
+two hands face up on the table. They were the ordinary average cards.
+He dealt again, with the same result. “I told you so,” said Uncle Jim,
+without looking up.
+
+It certainly seemed a tame performance after their wonderful hands, and
+after another trial Uncle Billy threw the cards aside and drew his stool
+before the fire. “Mighty queer, warn't it?” he said, with reminiscent
+awe. “Three times running. Do you know, I felt a kind o' creepy feelin'
+down my back all the time. Criky! what luck! None of the boys would
+believe it if we told 'em--least of all that Dick Bullen, who don't
+believe in luck, anyway. Wonder what he'd have said! and, Lord! how he'd
+have looked! Wall! what are you starin' so for?”
+
+Uncle Jim had faced around, and was gazing at Uncle Billy's
+good-humored, simple face. “Nothin'!” he said briefly, and his eyes
+again sought the fire.
+
+“Then don't look as if you was seein' suthin'--you give me the creeps,”
+ returned Uncle Billy a little petulantly. “Let's turn in, afore the fire
+goes out!”
+
+The fateful cards were put back into the drawer, the table shoved
+against the wall. The operation of undressing was quickly got over,
+the clothes they wore being put on top of their blankets. Uncle Billy
+yawned, “I wonder what kind of a dream I'll have tonight--it oughter be
+suthin' to explain that luck.” This was his “good-night” to his partner.
+In a few moments he was sound asleep.
+
+Not so Uncle Jim. He heard the wind gradually go down, and in the
+oppressive silence that followed could detect the deep breathing of
+his companion and the far-off yelp of a coyote. His eyesight becoming
+accustomed to the semi-darkness, broken only by the scintillation of
+the dying embers of their fire, he could take in every detail of their
+sordid cabin and the rude environment in which they had lived so long.
+The dismal patches on the bark roof, the wretched makeshifts of each
+day, the dreary prolongation of discomfort, were all plain to him now,
+without the sanguine hope that had made them bearable. And when he
+shut his eyes upon them, it was only to travel in fancy down the steep
+mountain side that he had trodden so often to the dreary claim on the
+overflowed river, to the heaps of “tailings” that encumbered it, like
+empty shells of the hollow, profitless days spent there, which they
+were always waiting for the stroke of good fortune to clear away. He saw
+again the rotten “sluicing,” through whose hopeless rifts and holes even
+their scant daily earnings had become scantier. At last he arose,
+and with infinite gentleness let himself down from his berth without
+disturbing his sleeping partner, and wrapping himself in his blanket,
+went to the door, which he noiselessly opened. From the position of a
+few stars that were glittering in the northern sky he knew that it was
+yet scarcely midnight; there were still long, restless hours before the
+day! In the feverish state into which he had gradually worked himself it
+seemed to him impossible to wait the coming of the dawn.
+
+But he was mistaken. For even as he stood there all nature seemed to
+invade his humble cabin with its free and fragrant breath, and invest
+him with its great companionship. He felt again, in that breath, that
+strange sense of freedom, that mystic touch of partnership with the
+birds and beasts, the shrubs and trees, in this greater home before him.
+It was this vague communion that had kept him there, that still held
+these world-sick, weary workers in their rude cabins on the slopes
+around him; and he felt upon his brow that balm that had nightly lulled
+him and them to sleep and forgetfulness. He closed the door, turned
+away, crept as noiselessly as before into his bunk again, and presently
+fell into a profound slumber.
+
+But when Uncle Billy awoke the next morning he saw it was late; for
+the sun, piercing the crack of the closed door, was sending a pencil of
+light across the cold hearth, like a match to rekindle its dead embers.
+His first thought was of his strange luck the night before, and of
+disappointment that he had not had the dream of divination that he had
+looked for. He sprang to the floor, but as he stood upright his
+glance fell on Uncle Jim's bunk. It was empty. Not only that, but his
+BLANKETS--Uncle Jim's own particular blankets--WERE GONE!
+
+A sudden revelation of his partner's manner the night before struck him
+now with the cruelty of a blow; a sudden intelligence, perhaps the very
+divination he had sought, flashed upon him like lightning! He glanced
+wildly around the cabin. The table was drawn out from the wall a little
+ostentatiously, as if to catch his eye. On it was lying the stained
+chamois-skin purse in which they had kept the few grains of gold
+remaining from their last week's “clean up.” The grains had been
+carefully divided, and half had been taken! But near it lay the little
+memorandum-book, open, with the stick of pencil lying across it. A deep
+line was drawn across the page on which was recorded their imaginary
+extravagant gains and losses, even to the entry of Uncle Jim's half
+share of the claim which he had risked and lost! Underneath were
+hurriedly scrawled the words:--
+
+“Settled by YOUR luck, last night, old pard.--JAMES FOSTER.”
+
+
+It was nearly a month before Cedar Camp was convinced that Uncle Billy
+and Uncle Jim had dissolved partnership. Pride had prevented Uncle Billy
+from revealing his suspicions of the truth, or of relating the events
+that preceded Uncle Jim's clandestine flight, and Dick Bullen had gone
+to Sacramento by stage-coach the same morning. He briefly gave out that
+his partner had been called to San Francisco on important business of
+their own, that indeed might necessitate his own removal there later. In
+this he was singularly assisted by a letter from the absent Jim, dated
+at San Francisco, begging him not to be anxious about his success, as he
+had hopes of presently entering into a profitable business, but with no
+further allusions to his precipitate departure, nor any suggestion of
+a reason for it. For two or three days Uncle Billy was staggered and
+bewildered; in his profound simplicity he wondered if his extraordinary
+good fortune that night had made him deaf to some explanation of his
+partner's, or, more terrible, if he had shown some “low” and incredible
+intimation of taking his partner's extravagant bet as REAL and binding.
+In this distress he wrote to Uncle Jim an appealing and apologetic
+letter, albeit somewhat incoherent and inaccurate, and bristling
+with misspelling, camp slang, and old partnership jibes. But to this
+elaborate epistle he received only Uncle Jim's repeated assurances of
+his own bright prospects, and his hopes that his old partner would be
+more fortunate, single-handed, on the old claim. For a whole week or two
+Uncle Billy sulked, but his invincible optimism and good humor got the
+better of him, and he thought only of his old partner's good fortune.
+He wrote him regularly, but always to one address--a box at the San
+Francisco post-office, which to the simple-minded Uncle Billy suggested
+a certain official importance. To these letters Uncle Jim responded
+regularly but briefly.
+
+From a certain intuitive pride in his partner and his affection, Uncle
+Billy did not show these letters openly to the camp, although he spoke
+freely of his former partner's promising future, and even read them
+short extracts. It is needless to say that the camp did not accept Uncle
+Billy's story with unsuspecting confidence. On the contrary, a hundred
+surmises, humorous or serious, but always extravagant, were afloat in
+Cedar Camp. The partners had quarreled over their clothes--Uncle Jim,
+who was taller than Uncle Billy, had refused to wear his partner's
+trousers. They had quarreled over cards--Uncle Jim had discovered that
+Uncle Billy was in possession of a “cold deck,” or marked pack. They had
+quarreled over Uncle Billy's carelessness in grinding up half a box
+of “bilious pills” in the morning's coffee. A gloomily imaginative
+mule-driver had darkly suggested that, as no one had really seen Uncle
+Jim leave the camp, he was still there, and his bones would yet be found
+in one of the ditches; while a still more credulous miner averred that
+what he had thought was the cry of a screech-owl the night previous to
+Uncle Jim's disappearance, might have been the agonized utterance of
+that murdered man. It was highly characteristic of that camp--and,
+indeed, of others in California--that nobody, not even the ingenious
+theorists themselves, believed their story, and that no one took the
+slightest pains to verify or disprove it. Happily, Uncle Billy never
+knew it, and moved all unconsciously in this atmosphere of burlesque
+suspicion. And then a singular change took place in the attitude of the
+camp towards him and the disrupted partnership. Hitherto, for no reason
+whatever, all had agreed to put the blame upon Billy--possibly because
+he was present to receive it. As days passed that slight reticence and
+dejection in his manner, which they had at first attributed to remorse
+and a guilty conscience, now began to tell as absurdly in his favor.
+Here was poor Uncle Billy toiling though the ditches, while his selfish
+partner was lolling in the lap of luxury in San Francisco! Uncle Billy's
+glowing accounts of Uncle Jim's success only contributed to the sympathy
+now fully given in his behalf and their execration of the absconding
+partner. It was proposed at Biggs's store that a letter expressing the
+indignation of the camp over his heartless conduct to his late partner,
+William Fall, should be forwarded to him. Condolences were offered to
+Uncle Billy, and uncouth attempts were made to cheer his loneliness. A
+procession of half a dozen men twice a week to his cabin, carrying their
+own whiskey and winding up with a “stag dance” before the premises, was
+sufficient to lighten his eclipsed gayety and remind him of a happier
+past. “Surprise” working parties visited his claim with spasmodic essays
+towards helping him, and great good humor and hilarity prevailed. It was
+not an unusual thing for an honest miner to arise from an idle gathering
+in some cabin and excuse himself with the remark that he “reckoned he'd
+put in an hour's work in Uncle Billy's tailings!” And yet, as before, it
+was very improbable if any of these reckless benefactors REALLY believed
+in their own earnestness or in the gravity of the situation. Indeed, a
+kind of hopeful cynicism ran through their performances. “Like as not,
+Uncle Billy is still in 'cahoots' [i. e., shares] with his old pard, and
+is just laughin' at us as he's sendin' him accounts of our tomfoolin'.”
+
+And so the winter passed and the rains, and the days of cloudless skies
+and chill starlit nights began. There were still freshets from the snow
+reservoirs piled high in the Sierran passes, and the Bar was flooded,
+but that passed too, and only the sunshine remained. Monotonous as the
+seasons were, there was a faint movement in the camp with the stirring
+of the sap in the pines and cedars. And then, one day, there was a
+strange excitement on the Bar. Men were seen running hither and thither,
+but mainly gathering in a crowd on Uncle Billy's claim, that still
+retained the old partners' names in “The Fall and Foster.” To add to the
+excitement, there was the quickly repeated report of a revolver, to all
+appearance aimlessly exploded in the air by some one on the outskirts
+of the assemblage. As the crowd opened, Uncle Billy appeared, pale,
+hysterical, breathless, and staggering a little under the back-slapping
+and hand-shaking of the whole camp. For Uncle Billy had “struck it
+rich”--had just discovered a “pocket,” roughly estimated to be worth
+fifteen thousand dollars!
+
+Although in that supreme moment he missed the face of his old partner,
+he could not help seeing the unaffected delight and happiness shining
+in the eyes of all who surrounded him. It was characteristic of that
+sanguine but uncertain life that success and good fortune brought no
+jealousy nor envy to the unfortunate, but was rather a promise
+and prophecy of the fulfillment of their own hopes. The gold was
+there--Nature but yielded up her secret. There was no prescribed limit
+to her bounty. So strong was this conviction that a long-suffering but
+still hopeful miner, in the enthusiasm of the moment, stooped down and
+patted a large boulder with the apostrophic “Good old gal!”
+
+Then followed a night of jubilee, a next morning of hurried consultation
+with a mining expert and speculator lured to the camp by the good
+tidings; and then the very next night--to the utter astonishment of
+Cedar Camp--Uncle Billy, with a draft for twenty thousand dollars in his
+pocket, started for San Francisco, and took leave of his claim and the
+camp forever!
+
+*****
+
+When Uncle Billy landed at the wharves of San Francisco he was a little
+bewildered. The Golden Gate beyond was obliterated by the incoming
+sea-fog, which had also roofed in the whole city, and lights already
+glittered along the gray streets that climbed the grayer sand-hills.
+As a Western man, brought up by inland rivers, he was fascinated and
+thrilled by the tall-masted seagoing ships, and he felt a strange sense
+of the remoter mysterious ocean, which he had never seen. But he was
+impressed and startled by smartly dressed men and women, the passing of
+carriages, and a sudden conviction that he was strange and foreign to
+what he saw. It had been his cherished intention to call upon his old
+partner in his working clothes, and then clap down on the table before
+him a draft for ten thousand dollars as HIS share of their old claim.
+But in the face of these brilliant strangers a sudden and unexpected
+timidity came upon him. He had heard of a cheap popular hotel, much
+frequented by the returning gold-miner, who entered its hospitable
+doors--which held an easy access to shops--and emerged in a few hours
+a gorgeous butterfly of fashion, leaving his old chrysalis behind him.
+Thence he inquired his way; hence he afterwards issued in garments
+glaringly new and ill fitting. But he had not sacrificed his beard, and
+there was still something fine and original in his handsome weak face
+that overcame the cheap convention of his clothes. Making his way to the
+post-office, he was again discomfited by the great size of the building,
+and bewildered by the array of little square letter-boxes behind glass
+which occupied one whole wall, and an equal number of opaque and locked
+wooden ones legibly numbered. His heart leaped; he remembered the
+number, and before him was a window with a clerk behind it. Uncle Billy
+leaned forward.
+
+“Kin you tell me if the man that box 690 b'longs to is in?”
+
+The clerk stared, made him repeat the question, and then turned away.
+But he returned almost instantly, with two or three grinning heads
+besides his own, apparently set behind his shoulders. Uncle Billy was
+again asked to repeat his question. He did so.
+
+“Why don't you go and see if 690 is in his box?” said the first clerk,
+turning with affected asperity to one of the others.
+
+The clerk went away, returned, and said with singular gravity, “He was
+there a moment ago, but he's gone out to stretch his legs. It's rather
+crampin' at first; and he can't stand it more than ten hours at a time,
+you know.”
+
+But simplicity has its limits. Uncle Billy had already guessed his
+real error in believing his partner was officially connected with the
+building; his cheek had flushed and then paled again. The pupils of his
+blue eyes had contracted into suggestive black points. “Ef you'll let
+me in at that winder, young fellers,” he said, with equal gravity,
+“I'll show yer how I kin make YOU small enough to go in a box without
+crampin'! But I only wanted to know where Jim Foster LIVED.”
+
+At which the first clerk became perfunctory again, but civil. “A letter
+left in his box would get you that information,” he said, “and here's
+paper and pencil to write it now.”
+
+Uncle Billy took the paper and began to write, “Just got here. Come and
+see me at”--He paused. A brilliant idea had struck him; He could impress
+both his old partner and the upstarts at the window; he would put in the
+name of the latest “swell” hotel in San Francisco, said to be a fairy
+dream of opulence. He added “The Oriental,” and without folding the
+paper shoved it in the window.
+
+“Don't you want an envelope?” asked the clerk.
+
+“Put a stamp on the corner of it,” responded Uncle Billy, laying down a
+coin, “and she'll go through.” The clerk smiled, but affixed the stamp,
+and Uncle Billy turned away.
+
+But it was a short-lived triumph. The disappointment at finding Uncle
+Jim's address conveyed no idea of his habitation seemed to remove him
+farther away, and lose his identity in the great city. Besides, he must
+now make good his own address, and seek rooms at the Oriental. He went
+thither. The furniture and decorations, even in these early days of
+hotel-building in San Francisco, were extravagant and over-strained,
+and Uncle Billy felt lost and lonely in his strange surroundings. But
+he took a handsome suite of rooms, paid for them in advance on the spot,
+and then, half frightened, walked out of them to ramble vaguely through
+the city in the feverish hope of meeting his old partner. At night his
+inquietude increased; he could not face the long row of tables in the
+pillared dining-room, filled with smartly dressed men and women;
+he evaded his bedroom, with its brocaded satin chairs and its gilt
+bedstead, and fled to his modest lodgings at the Good Cheer House, and
+appeased his hunger at its cheap restaurant, in the company of retired
+miners and freshly arrived Eastern emigrants. Two or three days passed
+thus in this quaint double existence. Three or four times a day he would
+enter the gorgeous Oriental with affected ease and carelessness, demand
+his key from the hotel-clerk, ask for the letter that did not come, go
+to his room, gaze vaguely from his window on the passing crowd below for
+the partner he could not find, and then return to the Good Cheer House
+for rest and sustenance. On the fourth day he received a short note
+from Uncle Jim; it was couched in his usual sanguine but brief and
+businesslike style. He was very sorry, but important and profitable
+business took him out of town, but he trusted to return soon and welcome
+his old partner. He was also, for the first time, jocose, and hoped
+that Uncle Billy would not “see all the sights” before he, Uncle Jim,
+returned. Disappointing as this procrastination was to Uncle Billy, a
+gleam of hope irradiated it: the letter had bridged over that gulf which
+seemed to yawn between them at the post-office. His old partner had
+accepted his visit to San Francisco without question, and had alluded to
+a renewal of their old intimacy. For Uncle Billy, with all his trustful
+simplicity, had been tortured by two harrowing doubts: one, whether
+Uncle Jim in his new-fledged smartness as a “city” man--such as he
+saw in the streets--would care for his rough companionship; the other,
+whether he, Uncle Billy, ought not to tell him at once of his changed
+fortune. But, like all weak, unreasoning men, he clung desperately to
+a detail--he could not forego his old idea of astounding Uncle Jim by
+giving him his share of the “strike” as his first intimation of it, and
+he doubted, with more reason perhaps, if Jim would see him after he
+had heard of his good fortune. For Uncle Billy had still a frightened
+recollection of Uncle Jim's sudden stroke for independence, and
+that rigid punctiliousness which had made him doggedly accept the
+responsibility of his extravagant stake at euchre.
+
+With a view of educating himself for Uncle Jim's company, he “saw the
+sights” of San Francisco--as an overgrown and somewhat stupid child
+might have seen them--with great curiosity, but little contamination or
+corruption. But I think he was chiefly pleased with watching the arrival
+of the Sacramento and Stockton steamers at the wharves, in the hope
+of discovering his old partner among the passengers on the gang-plank.
+Here, with his old superstitious tendency and gambler's instinct, he
+would augur great success in his search that day if any one of the
+passengers bore the least resemblance to Uncle Jim, if a man or woman
+stepped off first, or if he met a single person's questioning eye.
+Indeed, this got to be the real occupation of the day, which he would on
+no account have omitted, and to a certain extent revived each day in
+his mind the morning's work of their old partnership. He would say to
+himself, “It's time to go and look up Jim,” and put off what he
+was pleased to think were his pleasures until this act of duty was
+accomplished.
+
+In this singleness of purpose he made very few and no entangling
+acquaintances, nor did he impart to any one the secret of his fortune,
+loyally reserving it for his partner's first knowledge. To a man of
+his natural frankness and simplicity this was a great trial, and was,
+perhaps, a crucial test of his devotion. When he gave up his rooms at
+the Oriental--as not necessary after his partner's absence--he sent
+a letter, with his humble address, to the mysterious lock-box of his
+partner without fear or false shame. He would explain it all when they
+met. But he sometimes treated unlucky and returning miners to a dinner
+and a visit to the gallery of some theatre. Yet while he had an active
+sympathy with and understanding of the humblest, Uncle Billy, who
+for many years had done his own and his partner's washing, scrubbing,
+mending, and cooking, and saw no degradation in it, was somewhat
+inconsistently irritated by menial functions in men, and although
+he gave extravagantly to waiters, and threw a dollar to the
+crossing-sweeper, there was always a certain shy avoidance of them in
+his manner. Coming from the theatre one night Uncle Billy was, however,
+seriously concerned by one of these crossing-sweepers turning hastily
+before them and being knocked down by a passing carriage. The man rose
+and limped hurriedly away; but Uncle Billy was amazed and still more
+irritated to hear from his companion that this kind of menial occupation
+was often profitable, and that at some of the principal crossings the
+sweepers were already rich men.
+
+But a few days later brought a more notable event to Uncle Billy. One
+afternoon in Montgomery Street he recognized in one of its smartly
+dressed frequenters a man who had a few years before been a member of
+Cedar Camp. Uncle Billy's childish delight at this meeting, which
+seemed to bridge over his old partner's absence, was, however, only
+half responded to by the ex-miner, and then somewhat satirically. In the
+fullness of his emotion, Uncle Billy confided to him that he was seeking
+his old partner, Jim Foster, and, reticent of his own good fortune,
+spoke glowingly of his partner's brilliant expectations, but deplored
+his inability to find him. And just now he was away on important
+business. “I reckon he's got back,” said the man dryly. “I didn't know
+he had a lock-box at the post-office, but I can give you his other
+address. He lives at the Presidio, at Washerwoman's Bay.” He stopped and
+looked with a satirical smile at Uncle Billy. But the latter, familiar
+with Californian mining-camp nomenclature, saw nothing strange in it,
+and merely repeated his companion's words.
+
+“You'll find him there! Good-by! So long! Sorry I'm in a hurry,” said
+the ex-miner, and hurried away.
+
+Uncle Billy was too delighted with the prospect of a speedy meeting with
+Uncle Jim to resent his former associate's supercilious haste, or even
+to wonder why Uncle Jim had not informed him that he had returned. It
+was not the first time that he had felt how wide was the gulf between
+himself and these others, and the thought drew him closer to his old
+partner, as well as his old idea, as it was now possible to surprise
+him with the draft. But as he was going to surprise him in his own
+boarding-house--probably a handsome one--Uncle Billy reflected that he
+would do so in a certain style.
+
+He accordingly went to a livery stable and ordered a landau and pair,
+with a negro coachman. Seated in it, in his best and most ill-fitting
+clothes, he asked the coachman to take him to the Presidio, and leaned
+back in the cushions as they drove through the streets with such an
+expression of beaming gratification on his good-humored face that the
+passers-by smiled at the equipage and its extravagant occupant. To them
+it seemed the not unusual sight of the successful miner “on a spree.” To
+the unsophisticated Uncle Billy their smiling seemed only a natural and
+kindly recognition of his happiness, and he nodded and smiled back
+to them with unsuspecting candor and innocent playfulness. “These yer
+'Frisco fellers ain't ALL slouches, you bet,” he added to himself half
+aloud, at the back of the grinning coachman.
+
+Their way led through well-built streets to the outskirts, or rather
+to that portion of the city which seemed to have been overwhelmed by
+shifting sand-dunes, from which half-submerged fences and even low
+houses barely marked the line of highway. The resistless trade-winds
+which had marked this change blew keenly in his face and slightly
+chilled his ardor. At a turn in the road the sea came in sight, and
+sloping towards it the great Cemetery of Lone Mountain, with white
+shafts and marbles that glittered in the sunlight like the sails of
+ships waiting to be launched down that slope into the Eternal Ocean.
+Uncle Billy shuddered. What if it had been his fate to seek Uncle Jim
+there!
+
+“Dar's yar Presidio!” said the negro coachman a few moments later,
+pointing with his whip, “and dar's yar Wash'woman's Bay!”
+
+Uncle Billy stared. A huge quadrangular fort of stone with a flag flying
+above its battlements stood at a little distance, pressed against the
+rocks, as if beating back the encroaching surges; between him and the
+fort but farther inland was a lagoon with a number of dilapidated,
+rudely patched cabins or cottages, like stranded driftwood around its
+shore. But there was no mansion, no block of houses, no street, not
+another habitation or dwelling to be seen!
+
+Uncle Billy's first shock of astonishment was succeeded by a feeling of
+relief. He had secretly dreaded a meeting with his old partner in the
+“haunts of fashion;” whatever was the cause that made Uncle Jim seek
+this obscure retirement affected him but slightly; he even was thrilled
+with a vague memory of the old shiftless camp they had both abandoned. A
+certain instinct--he knew not why, or less still that it might be one of
+delicacy--made him alight before they reached the first house. Bidding
+the carriage wait, Uncle Billy entered, and was informed by a blowzy
+Irish laundress at a tub that Jim Foster, or “Arkansaw Jim,” lived at
+the fourth shanty “beyant.” He was at home, for “he'd shprained his
+fut.” Uncle Billy hurried on, stopped before the door of a shanty
+scarcely less rude than their old cabin, and half timidly pushed it
+open. A growling voice from within, a figure that rose hurriedly,
+leaning on a stick, with an attempt to fly, but in the same moment sank
+back in a chair with an hysterical laugh--and Uncle Billy stood in the
+presence of his old partner! But as Uncle Billy darted forward, Uncle
+Jim rose again, and this time with outstretched hands. Uncle Billy
+caught them, and in one supreme pressure seemed to pour out and
+transfuse his whole simple soul into his partner's. There they swayed
+each other backwards and forwards and sideways by their still clasped
+hands, until Uncle Billy, with a glance at Uncle Jim's bandaged ankle,
+shoved him by sheer force down into his chair.
+
+Uncle Jim was first to speak. “Caught, b' gosh! I mighter known you'd be
+as big a fool as me! Look you, Billy Fall, do you know what you've done?
+You've druv me out er the streets whar I was makin' an honest livin', by
+day, on three crossin's! Yes,” he laughed forgivingly, “you druv me out
+er it, by day, jest because I reckoned that some time I might run into
+your darned fool face,”--another laugh and a grasp of the hand,--“and
+then, b'gosh! not content with ruinin' my business BY DAY, when I
+took to it at night, YOU took to goin' out at nights too, and so put a
+stopper on me there! Shall I tell you what else you did? Well, by the
+holy poker! I owe this sprained foot to your darned foolishness and my
+own, for it was getting away from YOU one night after the theatre that I
+got run into and run over!
+
+“Ye see,” he went on, unconscious of Uncle Billy's paling face, and with
+a naivete, though perhaps not a delicacy, equal to Uncle Billy's own, “I
+had to play roots on you with that lock-box business and these letters,
+because I did not want you to know what I was up to, for you mightn't
+like it, and might think it was lowerin' to the old firm, don't yer
+see? I wouldn't hev gone into it, but I was played out, and I don't
+mind tellin' you NOW, old man, that when I wrote you that first chipper
+letter from the lock-box I hedn't eat anythin' for two days. But it's
+all right NOW,” with a laugh. “Then I got into this business--thinkin'
+it nothin'--jest the very last thing--and do you know, old pard, I
+couldn't tell anybody but YOU--and, in fact, I kept it jest to tell
+you--I've made nine hundred and fifty-six dollars! Yes, sir, NINE
+HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX DOLLARS! solid money, in Adams and Co.'s Bank,
+just out er my trade.”
+
+“Wot trade?” asked Uncle Billy.
+
+Uncle Jim pointed to the corner, where stood a large, heavy
+crossing-sweeper's broom. “That trade.”
+
+“Certingly,” said Uncle Billy, with a quick laugh.
+
+“It's an outdoor trade,” said Uncle Jim gravely, but with no suggestion
+of awkwardness or apology in his manner; “and thar ain't much difference
+between sweepin' a crossin' with a broom and raking over tailing with a
+rake, ONLY--WOT YE GET with a broom YOU HAVE HANDED TO YE, and ye don't
+have to PICK IT UP AND FISH IT OUT ER the wet rocks and sluice-gushin';
+and it's a heap less tiring to the back.”
+
+“Certingly, you bet!” said Uncle Billy enthusiastically, yet with a
+certain nervous abstraction.
+
+“I'm glad ye say so; for yer see I didn't know at first how you'd tumble
+to my doing it, until I'd made my pile. And ef I hadn't made it, I
+wouldn't hev set eyes on ye agin, old pard--never!”
+
+“Do you mind my runnin' out a minit,” said Uncle Billy, rising. “You
+see, I've got a friend waitin' for me outside--and I reckon”--he
+stammered--“I'll jest run out and send him off, so I kin talk comf'ble
+to ye.”
+
+“Ye ain't got anybody you're owin' money to,” said Uncle Jim earnestly,
+“anybody follerin' you to get paid, eh? For I kin jest set down right
+here and write ye off a check on the bank!”
+
+“No,” said Uncle Billy. He slipped out of the door, and ran like a deer
+to the waiting carriage. Thrusting a twenty-dollar gold-piece into the
+coachman's hand, he said hoarsely, “I ain't wantin' that kerridge just
+now; ye ken drive around and hev a private jamboree all by yourself the
+rest of the afternoon, and then come and wait for me at the top o' the
+hill yonder.”
+
+Thus quit of his gorgeous equipage, he hurried back to Uncle Jim,
+grasping his ten-thousand dollar draft in his pocket. He was nervous, he
+was frightened, but he must get rid of the draft and his story, and have
+it over. But before he could speak he was unexpectedly stopped by Uncle
+Jim.
+
+“Now, look yer, Billy boy!” said Uncle Jim; “I got suthin' to say to
+ye--and I might as well clear it off my mind at once, and then we can
+start fair agin. Now,” he went on, with a half laugh, “wasn't it enough
+for ME to go on pretendin' I was rich and doing a big business, and
+gettin' up that lock-box dodge so as ye couldn't find out whar I hung
+out and what I was doin'--wasn't it enough for ME to go on with all this
+play-actin', but YOU, you long-legged or nary cuss! must get up and go
+to lyin' and play-actin', too!”
+
+“ME play-actin'? ME lyin'?” gasped Uncle Billy.
+
+Uncle Jim leaned back in his chair and laughed. “Do you think you could
+fool ME? Do you think I didn't see through your little game o' going
+to that swell Oriental, jest as if ye'd made a big strike--and all the
+while ye wasn't sleepin' or eatin' there, but jest wrastlin' yer hash
+and having a roll down at the Good Cheer! Do you think I didn't spy on
+ye and find that out? Oh, you long-eared jackass-rabbit!”
+
+He laughed until the tears came into his eyes, and Uncle Billy laughed
+too, albeit until the laugh on his face became quite fixed, and he was
+fain to bury his head in his handkerchief.
+
+“And yet,” said Uncle Jim, with a deep breath, “gosh! I was
+frighted--jest for a minit! I thought, mebbe, you HAD made a big
+strike--when I got your first letter--and I made up my mind what I'd
+do! And then I remembered you was jest that kind of an open sluice that
+couldn't keep anythin' to yourself, and you'd have been sure to have
+yelled it out to ME the first thing. So I waited. And I found you out,
+you old sinner!” He reached forward and dug Uncle Billy in the ribs.
+
+“What WOULD you hev done?” said Uncle Billy, after an hysterical
+collapse.
+
+Uncle Jim's face grew grave again. “I'd hev--I'd--hev cl'ared out! Out
+er 'Frisco! out er Californy! out er Ameriky! I couldn't have stud it!
+Don't think I would hev begrudged ye yer luck! No man would have been
+gladder than me.” He leaned forward again, and laid his hand caressingly
+upon his partner's arm--“Don't think I'd hev wanted to take a penny of
+it--but I--thar! I COULDN'T hev stood up under it! To hev had YOU, you
+that I left behind, comin' down here rollin' in wealth and new partners
+and friends, and arrive upon me--and this shanty--and”--he threw towards
+the corner of the room a terrible gesture, none the less terrible
+that it was illogical and inconsequent to all that had gone
+before--“and--and--THAT BROOM!”
+
+There was a dead silence in the room. With it Uncle Billy seemed to feel
+himself again transported to the homely cabin at Cedar Camp and that
+fateful night, with his partner's strange, determined face before him
+as then. He even fancied that he heard the roaring of the pines without,
+and did not know that it was the distant sea.
+
+But after a minute Uncle Jim resumed:--
+
+“Of course you've made a little raise somehow, or you wouldn't be here?”
+
+“Yes,” said Uncle Billy eagerly. “Yes! I've got”--He stopped and
+stammered. “I've got--a--few hundreds.”
+
+“Oh, oh!” said Uncle Jim cheerfully. He paused, and then added
+earnestly, “I say! You ain't got left, over and above your d--d
+foolishness at the Oriental, as much as five hundred dollars?”
+
+“I've got,” said Uncle Billy, blushing a little over his first
+deliberate and affected lie, “I've got at least five hundred and
+seventy-two dollars. Yes,” he added tentatively, gazing anxiously at his
+partner, “I've got at least that.”
+
+“Je whillikins!” said Uncle Jim, with a laugh. Then eagerly, “Look here,
+pard! Then we're on velvet! I've got NINE hundred; put your FIVE with
+that, and I know a little ranch that we can get for twelve hundred.
+That's what I've been savin' up for--that's my little game! No more
+minin' for ME. It's got a shanty twice as big as our old cabin, nigh on
+a hundred acres, and two mustangs. We can run it with two Chinamen and
+jest make it howl! Wot yer say--eh?” He extended his hand.
+
+“I'm in,” said Uncle Billy, radiantly grasping Uncle Jim's. But his
+smile faded, and his clear simple brow wrinkled in two lines.
+
+Happily Uncle Jim did not notice it. “Now, then, old pard,” he said
+brightly, “we'll have a gay old time to-night--one of our jamborees!
+I've got some whiskey here and a deck o' cards, and we'll have a little
+game, you understand, but not for 'keeps' now! No, siree; we'll play for
+beans.”
+
+A sudden light illuminated Uncle Billy's face again, but he said, with a
+grim desperation, “Not to-night! I've got to go into town. That fren'
+o' mine expects me to go to the theayter, don't ye see? But I'll be out
+to-morrow at sun-up, and we'll fix up this thing o' the ranch.”
+
+“Seems to me you're kinder stuck on this fren',” grunted Uncle Jim.
+
+Uncle Billy's heart bounded at his partner's jealousy. “No--but I MUST,
+you know,” he returned, with a faint laugh.
+
+“I say--it ain't a HER, is it?” said Uncle Jim.
+
+Uncle Billy achieved a diabolical wink and a creditable blush at his
+lie.
+
+“Billy?”
+
+“Jim!”
+
+And under cover of this festive gallantry Uncle Billy escaped. He ran
+through the gathering darkness, and toiled up the shifting sands to the
+top of the hill, where he found the carriage waiting.
+
+“Wot,” said Uncle Billy in a low confidential tone to the coachman,
+“wot do you 'Frisco fellers allow to be the best, biggest, and riskiest
+gamblin'-saloon here? Suthin' high-toned, you know?”
+
+The negro grinned. It was the usual case of the extravagant spendthrift
+miner, though perhaps he had expected a different question and order.
+
+“Dey is de 'Polka,' de 'El Dorado,' and de 'Arcade' saloon, boss,” he
+said, flicking his whip meditatively. “Most gents from de mines prefer
+de 'Polka,' for dey is dancing wid de gals frown in. But de real prima
+facie place for gents who go for buckin' agin de tiger and straight-out
+gamblin' is de 'Arcade.'”
+
+“Drive there like thunder!” said Uncle Billy, leaping into the carriage.
+
+*****
+
+True to his word, Uncle Billy was at his partner's shanty early the next
+morning. He looked a little tired, but happy, and had brought a draft
+with him for five hundred and seventy-five dollars, which he explained
+was the total of his capital. Uncle Jim was overjoyed. They would start
+for Napa that very day, and conclude the purchase of the ranch; Uncle
+Jim's sprained foot was a sufficient reason for his giving up his
+present vocation, which he could also sell at a small profit. His
+domestic arrangements were very simple; there was nothing to take
+with him--there was everything to leave behind. And that afternoon, at
+sunset, the two reunited partners were seated on the deck of the Napa
+boat as she swung into the stream.
+
+Uncle Billy was gazing over the railing with a look of abstracted relief
+towards the Golden Gate, where the sinking sun seemed to be drawing
+towards him in the ocean a golden stream that was forever pouring
+from the Bay and the three-hilled city beside it. What Uncle Billy was
+thinking of, or what the picture suggested to him, did not transpire;
+for Uncle Jim, who, emboldened by his holiday, was luxuriating in an
+evening paper, suddenly uttered a long-drawn whistle, and moved closer
+to his abstracted partner. “Look yer,” he said, pointing to a paragraph
+he had evidently just read, “just you listen to this, and see if we
+ain't lucky, you and me, to be jest wot we air--trustin' to our own hard
+work--and not thinkin' o' 'strikes' and 'fortins.' Jest unbutton yer
+ears, Billy, while I reel off this yer thing I've jest struck in the
+paper, and see what d--d fools some men kin make o' themselves. And that
+theer reporter wot wrote it--must hev seed it reely!”
+
+Uncle Jim cleared his throat, and holding the paper close to his eyes
+read aloud slowly:--
+
+“'A scene of excitement that recalled the palmy days of '49 was
+witnessed last night at the Arcade Saloon. A stranger, who might have
+belonged to that reckless epoch, and who bore every evidence of being
+a successful Pike County miner out on a “spree,” appeared at one of the
+tables with a negro coachman bearing two heavy bags of gold. Selecting
+a faro-bank as his base of operations, he began to bet heavily and with
+apparent recklessness, until his play excited the breathless attention
+of every one. In a few moments he had won a sum variously estimated at
+from eighty to a hundred thousand dollars. A rumor went round the room
+that it was a concerted attempt to “break the bank” rather than the
+drunken freak of a Western miner, dazzled by some successful strike.
+To this theory the man's careless and indifferent bearing towards his
+extraordinary gains lent great credence. The attempt, if such it was,
+however, was unsuccessful. After winning ten times in succession the
+luck turned, and the unfortunate “bucker” was cleared out not only of
+his gains, but of his original investment, which may be placed roughly
+at twenty thousand dollars. This extraordinary play was witnessed by a
+crowd of excited players, who were less impressed by even the magnitude
+of the stakes than the perfect sang-froid and recklessness of the
+player, who, it is said, at the close of the game tossed a twenty-dollar
+gold-piece to the banker and smilingly withdrew. The man was not
+recognized by any of the habitues of the place.'
+
+“There!” said Uncle Jim, as he hurriedly slurred over the French
+substantive at the close, “did ye ever see such God-forsaken
+foolishness?”
+
+Uncle Billy lifted his abstracted eyes from the current, still pouring
+its unreturning gold into the sinking sun, and said, with a deprecatory
+smile, “Never!”
+
+Nor even in the days of prosperity that visited the Great Wheat Ranch of
+“Fall and Foster” did he ever tell his secret to his partner.
+
+
+
+
+SEE YUP
+
+
+I don't suppose that his progenitors ever gave him that name, or,
+indeed, that it was a NAME at all; but it was currently believed
+that--as pronounced “See UP”--it meant that lifting of the outer angle
+of the eye common to the Mongolian. On the other hand, I had been told
+that there was an old Chinese custom of affixing some motto or legend,
+or even a sentence from Confucius, as a sign above their shops, and that
+two or more words, which might be merely equivalent to “Virtue is its
+own reward,” or “Riches are deceitful,” were believed by the simple
+Californian miner to be the name of the occupant himself. Howbeit, “See
+Yup” accepted it with the smiling patience of his race, and never
+went by any other. If one of the tunnelmen always addressed him as
+“Brigadier-General,” “Judge,” or “Commodore,” it was understood to be
+only the American fondness for ironic title, and was never used except
+in personal conversation. In appearance he looked like any other
+Chinaman, wore the ordinary blue cotton blouse and white drawers of the
+Sampan coolie, and, in spite of the apparent cleanliness and freshness
+of these garments, always exhaled that singular medicated odor--half
+opium, half ginger--which we recognized as the common “Chinese smell.”
+
+Our first interview was characteristic of his patient quality. He had
+done my washing for several months, but I had never yet seen him.
+A meeting at last had become necessary to correct his impressions
+regarding “buttons”--which he had seemed to consider as mere
+excrescences, to be removed like superfluous dirt from soiled linen.
+I had expected him to call at my lodgings, but he had not yet made his
+appearance. One day, during the noontide recess of the little frontier
+school over which I presided, I returned rather early. Two or three of
+the smaller boys, who were loitering about the school-yard, disappeared
+with a certain guilty precipitation that I suspected for the moment,
+but which I presently dismissed from my mind. I passed through the
+empty school-room to my desk, sat down, and began to prepare the coming
+lessons. Presently I heard a faint sigh. Looking up, to my intense
+concern, I discovered a solitary Chinaman whom I had overlooked, sitting
+in a rigid attitude on a bench with his back to the window. He caught my
+eye and smiled sadly, but without moving.
+
+“What are you doing here?” I asked sternly.
+
+“Me washee shilts; me talkee 'buttons.'”
+
+“Oh! you're See Yup, are you?”
+
+“Allee same, John.”
+
+“Well, come here.”
+
+I continued my work, but he did not move.
+
+“Come here, hang it! Don't you understand?”
+
+“Me shabbee, 'comme yea.' But me no shabbee Mellican boy, who catchee
+me, allee same. YOU 'comme yea'--YOU shabbee?”
+
+Indignant, but believing that the unfortunate man was still in fear
+of persecution from the mischievous urchins whom I had evidently just
+interrupted, I put down my pen and went over to him. Here I discovered,
+to my surprise and mortification, that his long pigtail was held hard
+and fast by the closed window behind him which the young rascals had
+shut down upon it, after having first noiselessly fished it outside with
+a hook and line. I apologized, opened the window, and released him. He
+did not complain, although he must have been fixed in that uncomfortable
+position for some minutes, but plunged at once into the business that
+brought him there.
+
+“But WHY didn't you come to my lodgings?” I asked.
+
+He smiled sadly but intelligently.
+
+“Mishtel Bally [Mr. Barry, my landlord] he owce me five dollee fo
+washee, washee. He no payee me. He say he knock hellee outee me allee
+time I come for payee. So me no come HOUSEE, me come SCHOOLEE, Shabbee?
+Mellican boy no good, but not so big as Mellican man. No can hurtee
+Chinaman so much. Shabbee?”
+
+Alas! I knew that this was mainly true. Mr. James Barry was an Irishman,
+whose finer religious feelings revolted against paying money to a
+heathen. I could not find it in my heart to say anything to See Yup
+about the buttons; indeed, I spoke in complimentary terms about the
+gloss of my shirts, and I think I meekly begged him to come again for my
+washing. When I went home I expostulated with Mr. Barry, but succeeded
+only in extracting from him the conviction that I was one of “thim black
+Republican fellys that worshiped naygurs.” I had simply made an enemy of
+him. But I did not know that, at the same time, I had made a friend of
+See Yup!
+
+I became aware of this a few days later, by the appearance on my desk of
+a small pot containing a specimen of camellia japonica in flower. I knew
+the school-children were in the habit of making presents to me in this
+furtive fashion,--leaving their own nosegays of wild flowers, or perhaps
+a cluster of roses from their parents' gardens,--but I also knew that
+this exotic was too rare to come from them. I remembered that See Yup
+had a Chinese taste for gardening, and a friend, another Chinaman, who
+kept a large nursery in the adjoining town. But my doubts were set at
+rest by the discovery of a small roll of red rice-paper containing my
+washing-bill, fastened to the camellia stalk. It was plain that this
+mingling of business and delicate gratitude was clearly See Yup's
+own idea. As the finest flower was the topmost one, I plucked it for
+wearing, when I found, to my astonishment, that it was simply wired to
+the stalk. This led me to look at the others, which I found also wired!
+More than that, they seemed to be an inferior flower, and exhaled that
+cold, earthy odor peculiar to the camellia, even, as I thought, to an
+excess. A closer examination resulted in the discovery that, with the
+exception of the first flower I had plucked, they were one and all
+ingeniously constructed of thin slices of potato, marvelously cut to
+imitate the vegetable waxiness and formality of the real flower. The
+work showed an infinite and almost pathetic patience in detail,
+yet strangely incommensurate with the result, admirable as it was.
+Nevertheless, this was also like See Yup. But whether he had tried to
+deceive me, or whether he only wished me to admire his skill, I could
+not say. And as his persecution by my scholars had left a balance of
+consideration in his favor, I sent him a warm note of thanks, and said
+nothing of my discovery.
+
+As our acquaintance progressed, I became frequently the recipient of
+other small presents from him: a pot of preserves of a quality I could
+not purchase in shops, and whose contents in their crafty, gingery
+dissimulation so defied definition that I never knew whether they were
+animal, vegetable, or mineral; two or three hideous Chinese idols, “for
+luckee,” and a diabolical fire-work with an irregular spasmodic activity
+that would sometimes be prolonged until the next morning. In return, I
+gave him some apparently hopeless oral lessons in English, and certain
+sentences to be copied, which he did with marvelous precision. I
+remember one instance when this peculiar faculty of imitation was
+disastrous in result. In setting him a copy, I had blurred a word which
+I promptly erased, and then traced the letters more distinctly over the
+scratched surface. To my surprise, See Yup triumphantly produced HIS
+copy with the erasion itself carefully imitated, and, in fact, much more
+neatly done than mine.
+
+In our confidential intercourse, I never seemed to really get nearer
+to him. His sympathy and simplicity appeared like his flowers--to be a
+good-humored imitation of my own. I am satisfied that his particularly
+soulless laugh was not derived from any amusement he actually felt, yet
+I could not say it was forced. In his accurate imitations, I fancied he
+was only trying to evade any responsibility of his own. THAT devolved
+upon his taskmaster! In the attention he displayed when new ideas
+were presented to him, there was a slight condescension, as if he were
+looking down upon them from his three thousand years of history.
+
+“Don't you think the electric telegraph wonderful?” I asked one day.
+
+“Very good for Mellican man,” he said, with his aimless laugh; “plenty
+makee him jump!”
+
+I never could tell whether he had confounded it with electro-galvanism,
+or was only satirizing our American haste and feverishness. He was
+capable of either. For that matter, we knew that the Chinese themselves
+possessed some means of secretly and quickly communicating with one
+another. Any news of good or ill import to their race was quickly
+disseminated through the settlement before WE knew anything about it. An
+innocent basket of clothes from the wash, sent up from the river-bank,
+became in some way a library of information; a single slip of
+rice-paper, aimlessly fluttering in the dust of the road, had the
+mysterious effect of diverging a whole gang of coolie tramps away from
+our settlement.
+
+When See Yup was not subject to the persecutions of the more ignorant
+and brutal he was always a source of amusement to all, and I cannot
+recall an instance when he was ever taken seriously. The miners found
+diversions even in his alleged frauds and trickeries, whether innocent
+or retaliatory, and were fond of relating with great gusto his evasion
+of the Foreign Miners' Tax. This was an oppressive measure aimed
+principally at the Chinese, who humbly worked the worn-out “tailings” of
+their Christian fellow miners. It was stated that See Yup, knowing the
+difficulty--already alluded to--of identifying any particular Chinaman
+by NAME, conceived the additional idea of confusing recognition by
+intensifying the monotonous facial expression. Having paid his tax
+himself to the collector, he at once passed the receipt to his fellows,
+so that the collector found himself confronted in different parts of the
+settlement with the receipt and the aimless laugh of, apparently, See
+Yup himself. Although we all knew that there were a dozen Chinamen or
+more at work at the mines, the collector never was able to collect the
+tax from more than TWO,--See Yup and one See Yin,--and so great was
+THEIR facial resemblance that the unfortunate official for a long time
+hugged himself with the conviction that he had made See Yup PAY TWICE,
+and withheld the money from the government! It is very probable that the
+Californian's recognition of the sanctity of a joke, and his belief that
+“cheating the government was only cheating himself,” largely accounted
+for the sympathies of the rest of the miners.
+
+But these sympathies were not always unanimous.
+
+One evening I strolled into the bar-room of the principal saloon, which,
+so far as mere upholstery and comfort went, was also the principal house
+in the settlement. The first rains had commenced; the windows were open,
+for the influence of the southwest trades penetrated even this far-off
+mountain mining settlement, but, oddly enough, there was a fire in the
+large central stove, around which the miners had collected, with their
+steaming boots elevated on a projecting iron railing that encircled it.
+They were not attracted by the warmth, but the stove formed a social
+pivot for gossip, and suggested that mystic circle dear to the
+gregarious instinct. Yet they were decidedly a despondent group. For
+some moments the silence was only broken by a gasp, a sigh, a muttered
+oath, or an impatient change of position. There was nothing in the
+fortunes of the settlement, nor in their own individual affairs to
+suggest this gloom. The singular truth was that they were, one and all,
+suffering from the pangs of dyspepsia.
+
+Incongruous as such a complaint might seem to their healthy
+environment,--their outdoor life, their daily exercise, the healing
+balsam of the mountain air, their enforced temperance in diet, and
+the absence of all enervating pleasures,--it was nevertheless the
+incontestable fact. Whether it was the result of the nervous, excitable
+temperament which had brought them together in this feverish hunt for
+gold; whether it was the quality of the tinned meats or half-cooked
+provisions they hastily bolted, begrudging the time it took to prepare
+and to consume them; whether they too often supplanted their meals by
+tobacco or whiskey, the singular physiological truth remained that these
+young, finely selected adventurers, living the lives of the natural,
+aboriginal man, and looking the picture of health and strength, actually
+suffered more from indigestion than the pampered dwellers of the cities.
+The quantity of “patent medicines,” “bitters,” “pills,” “panaceas,”
+ and “lozenges” sold in the settlement almost exceeded the amount of
+the regular provisions whose effects they were supposed to correct.
+The sufferers eagerly scanned advertisements and placards. There
+were occasional “runs” on new “specifics,” and general conversation
+eventually turned into a discussion of their respective merits. A
+certain childlike faith and trust in each new remedy was not the least
+distressing and pathetic of the symptoms of these grown-up, bearded men.
+
+“Well, gentlemen,” said Cyrus Parker, glancing around at his fellow
+sufferers, “ye kin talk of your patent medicines, and I've tackled 'em
+all, but only the other day I struck suthin' that I'm goin' to hang on
+to, you bet.”
+
+Every eye was turned moodily to the speaker, but no one said anything.
+
+“And I didn't get it outer advertisements, nor off of circulars. I got
+it outer my head, just by solid thinking,” continued Parker.
+
+“What was it, Cy?” said one unsophisticated and inexperienced sufferer.
+
+Instead of replying, Parker, like a true artist, knowing he had the ear
+of his audience, dramatically flashed a question upon them.
+
+“Did you ever hear of a Chinaman having dyspepsy?”
+
+“Never heard he had sabe enough to hev ANYTHING,” said a scorner.
+
+“No, but DID ye?” insisted Parker.
+
+“Well, no!” chorused the group. They were evidently struck with the
+fact.
+
+“Of course you didn't,” said Parker triumphantly. “'Cos they AIN'T.
+Well, gentlemen, it didn't seem to me the square thing that a pesky lot
+o' yellow-skinned heathens should be built different to a white man,
+and never know the tortur' that a Christian feels; and one day, arter
+dinner, when I was just a-lyin' flat down on the bank, squirmin', and
+clutching the short grass to keep from yellin', who should go by but
+that pizened See Yup, with a grin on his face.
+
+“'Mellican man plenty playee to him Joss after eatin',' sez he; 'but
+Chinaman smellee punk, allee same, and no hab got.'
+
+“I knew the slimy cuss was just purtendin' he thought I was prayin' to
+my Joss, but I was that weak I hadn't stren'th, boys, to heave a rock at
+him. Yet it gave me an idea.”
+
+“What was it?” they asked eagerly.
+
+“I went down to his shop the next day, when he was alone, and I was
+feeling mighty bad, and I got hold of his pigtail and I allowed I'd
+stuff it down his throat if he didn't tell me what he meant. Then he
+took a piece of punk and lit it, and put it under my nose, and, darn my
+skin, gentlemen, you migh'n't believe me, but in a minute I felt better,
+and after a whiff or two I was all right.”
+
+“Was it pow'ful strong, Cy?” asked the inexperienced one.
+
+“No,” said Parker, “and that's just what's got me. It was a sort o'
+dreamy, spicy smell, like a hot night. But as I couldn't go 'round 'mong
+you boys with a lighted piece o' punk in my hand, ez if I was settin'
+off Fourth of July firecrackers, I asked him if he couldn't fix me up
+suthin' in another shape that would be handier to use when I was took
+bad, and I'd reckon to pay him for it like ez I'd pay for any other
+patent medicine. So he fixed me up this.”
+
+He put his hand in his pocket, and drew out a small red paper which,
+when opened, disclosed a pink powder. It was gravely passed around the
+group.
+
+“Why, it smells and tastes like ginger,” said one.
+
+“It is only ginger!” said another scornfully.
+
+“Mebbe it is, and mebbe it isn't,” returned Cy Parker stoutly. “Mebbe
+ut's only my fancy. But if it's the sort o' stuff to bring on that
+fancy, and that fancy CURES me, it's all the same. I've got about two
+dollars' worth o' that fancy or that ginger, and I'm going to stick to
+it. You hear me!” And he carefully put it back in his pocket.
+
+At which criticisms and gibes broke forth. If he (Cy Parker), a white
+man, was going to “demean himself” by consulting a Chinese quack, he'd
+better buy up a lot o' idols and stand 'em up around his cabin. If he
+had that sort o' confidences with See Yup, he ought to go to work with
+him on his cheap tailings, and be fumigated all at the same time. If
+he'd been smoking an opium pipe, instead of smelling punk, he ought to
+be man enough to confess it. Yet it was noticeable that they were
+all very anxious to examine the packet again, but Cy Parker was alike
+indifferent to demand or entreaty.
+
+A few days later I saw Abe Wynford, one of the party, coming out of See
+Yup's wash-house. He muttered something in passing about the infamous
+delay in sending home his washing, but did not linger long in
+conversation. The next day I met another miner AT the wash-house, but HE
+lingered so long on some trifling details that I finally left him there
+alone with See Yup. When I called upon Poker Jack of Shasta, there was a
+singular smell of incense in HIS cabin, which he attributed to the very
+resinous quality of the fir logs he was burning. I did not attempt
+to probe these mysteries by any direct appeal to See Yup himself: I
+respected his reticence; indeed, if I had not, I was quite satisfied
+that he would have lied to me. Enough that his wash-house was well
+patronized, and he was decidedly “getting on.”
+
+It might have been a month afterwards that Dr. Duchesne was setting a
+broken bone in the settlement, and after the operation was over, had
+strolled into the Palmetto Saloon. He was an old army surgeon, much
+respected and loved in the district, although perhaps a little feared
+for the honest roughness and military precision of his speech. After he
+had exchanged salutations with the miners in his usual hearty fashion,
+and accepted their invitation to drink, Cy Parker, with a certain
+affected carelessness which did not, however, conceal a singular
+hesitation in his speech, began:--
+
+“I've been wantin' to ask ye a question, Doc,--a sort o' darned fool
+question, ye know,--nothing in the way of consultation, don't you see,
+though it's kin er in the way o' your purfeshun. Sabe?”
+
+“Go on, Cy,” said the doctor good-humoredly, “this is my dispensary
+hour.”
+
+“Oh! it ain't anything about symptoms, Doc, and there ain't anything the
+matter with me. It's only just to ask ye if ye happened to know anything
+about the medical practice of these yer Chinamen?”
+
+“I don't know,” said the doctor bluntly, “and I don't know ANYBODY who
+does.”
+
+There was a sudden silence in the bar, and the doctor, putting down his
+glass, continued with slight professional precision:--
+
+“You see, the Chinese know nothing of anatomy from personal observation.
+Autopsies and dissection are against their superstitions, which declare
+the human body sacred, and are consequently never practiced.”
+
+There was a slight movement of inquiring interest among the party,
+and Cy Parker, after a meaning glance at the others, went on half
+aggressively, half apologetically:--
+
+“In course, they ain't surgeons like you, Doc, but that don't keep them
+from having their own little medicines, just as dogs eat grass, you
+know. Now I want to put it to you, as a fa'r-minded man, if you mean ter
+say that, jest because those old women who sarve out yarbs and spring
+medicines in families don't know anything of anatomy, they ain't fit to
+give us their simple and nat'ral medicines?”
+
+“But the Chinese medicines are not simple or natural,” said the doctor
+coolly.
+
+“Not simple?” echoed the party, closing round him.
+
+“I don't mean to say,” continued the doctor, glancing around at their
+eager, excited faces with an appearance of wonder, “that they are
+positively noxious, unless taken in large quantities, for they are not
+drugs at all, but I certainly should not call them 'simple.' Do YOU know
+what they principally are?”
+
+“Well, no,” said Parker cautiously, “perhaps not EXACTLY.”
+
+“Come a little closer, and I'll tell you.”
+
+Not only Parker's head but the others were bent over the counter. Dr.
+Duchesne uttered a few words in a tone inaudible to the rest of the
+company. There was a profound silence, broken at last by Abe Wynford's
+voice:--
+
+“Ye kin pour me out about three fingers o' whiskey, Barkeep. I'll take
+it straight.”
+
+“Same to me,” said the others.
+
+The men gulped down their liquor; two of them quietly passed out. The
+doctor wiped his lips, buttoned his coat, and began to draw on his
+riding-gloves.
+
+“I've heerd,” said Poker Jack of Shasta, with a faint smile on his white
+face, as he toyed with the last drops of liquor in his glass, “that the
+darned fools sometimes smell punk as a medicine, eh?”
+
+“Yes, THAT'S comparatively decent,” said the doctor reflectively. “It's
+only sawdust mixed with a little gum and formic acid.”
+
+“Formic acid? Wot's that?”
+
+“A very peculiar acid secreted by ants. It is supposed to be used by
+them offensively in warfare--just as the skunk, eh?”
+
+But Poker Jack of Shasta had hurriedly declared that he wanted to speak
+to a man who was passing, and had disappeared. The doctor walked to the
+door, mounted his horse, and rode away. I noticed, however, that there
+was a slight smile on his bronzed, impassive face. This led me to
+wonder if he was entirely ignorant of the purpose for which he had been
+questioned, and the effect of his information. I was confirmed in the
+belief by the remarkable circumstances that nothing more was said of it;
+the incident seemed to have terminated there, and the victims made no
+attempt to revenge themselves on See Yup. That they had one and all,
+secretly and unknown to one another, patronized him, there was no doubt;
+but, at the same time, as they evidently were not sure that Dr. Duchesne
+had not hoaxed them in regard to the quality of See Yup's medicines,
+they knew that an attack on the unfortunate Chinaman would in either
+case reveal their secret and expose them to the ridicule of their
+brother miners. So the matter dropped, and See Yup remained master of
+the situation.
+
+Meantime he was prospering. The coolie gang he worked on the river, when
+not engaged in washing clothes, were “picking over” the “tailings,”
+ or refuse of gravel, left on abandoned claims by successful miners.
+As there was no more expense attending this than in stone-breaking or
+rag-picking, and the feeding of the coolies, which was ridiculously
+cheap, there was no doubt that See Yup was reaping a fair weekly return
+from it; but, as he sent his receipts to San Francisco through coolie
+managers, after the Chinese custom, and did not use the regular Express
+Company, there was no way of ascertaining the amount. Again, neither
+See Yup nor his fellow countrymen ever appeared to have any money about
+them. In ruder times and more reckless camps, raids were often made by
+ruffians on their cabins or their traveling gangs, but never with any
+pecuniary result. This condition, however, it seemed was destined to
+change.
+
+One Saturday See Yup walked into Wells, Fargo & Co.'s Express office
+with a package of gold-dust, which, when duly weighed, was valued at
+five hundred dollars. It was consigned to a Chinese company in San
+Francisco. When the clerk handed See Yup a receipt, he remarked
+casually:--
+
+“Washing seems to pay, See Yup.”
+
+“Washee velly good pay. You wantee washee, John?” said See Yup eagerly.
+
+“No, no,” said the clerk, with a laugh. “I was only thinking five
+hundred dollars would represent the washing of a good many shirts.”
+
+“No leplesent washee shirts at all! Catchee gold-dust when washee
+tailings. Shabbee?”
+
+The clerk DID “shabbee,” and lifted his eyebrows. The next Saturday See
+Yup appeared with another package, worth about four hundred dollars,
+directed to the same consignee.
+
+“Didn't pan out quite so rich this week, eh?” said the clerk engagingly.
+
+“No,” returned See Yup impassively; “next time he payee more.”
+
+When the third Saturday came, with the appearance of See Yup and four
+hundred and fifty dollars' worth of gold-dust, the clerk felt he was no
+longer bound to keep the secret. He communicated it to others, and
+in twenty-four hours the whole settlement knew that See Yup's coolie
+company were taking out an average of four hundred dollars per week from
+the refuse and tailings of the old abandoned Palmetto claim!
+
+The astonishment of the settlement was profound. In earlier days
+jealousy and indignation at the success of these degraded heathens might
+have taken a more active and aggressive shape, and it would have fared
+ill with See Yup and his companions. But the settlement had become more
+prosperous and law-abiding; there were one or two Eastern families and
+some foreign capital already there, and its jealousy and indignation
+were restricted to severe investigation and legal criticism. Fortunately
+for See Yup, it was an old-established mining law that an abandoned
+claim and its tailings became the property of whoever chose to work
+it. But it was alleged that See Yup's company had in reality “struck a
+lead,”--discovered a hitherto unknown vein or original deposit of gold,
+not worked by the previous company, and having failed legally to declare
+it by preemption and public registry, in their foolish desire for
+secrecy, had thus forfeited their right to the property. A surveillance
+of their working, however, did not establish this theory; the gold that
+See Yup had sent away was of the kind that might have been found in the
+tailings overlooked by the late Palmetto owners. Yet it was a very large
+yield for mere refuse.
+
+“Them Palmetto boys were mighty keerless after they'd made their big
+'strike' and got to work on the vein, and I reckon they threw a lot
+of gold away,” said Cy Parker, who remembered their large-handed
+recklessness in the “flush days.” “On'y that WE didn't think it was
+white man's work to rake over another man's leavin's, we might hev had
+what them derned Chinamen hev dropped into. Tell ye what, boys, we've
+been a little too 'high and mighty,' and we'll hev to climb down.”
+
+At last the excitement reached its climax, and diplomacy was employed to
+effect what neither intimidation nor espionage could secure. Under the
+pretense of desiring to buy out See Yup's company, a select committee of
+the miners was permitted to examine the property and its workings. They
+found the great bank of stones and gravel, representing the cast-out
+debris of the old claim, occupied by See Yup and four or five plodding
+automatic coolies. At the end of two hours the committee returned to
+the saloon bursting with excitement. They spoke under their breath, but
+enough was gathered to satisfy the curious crowd that See Yup's pile of
+tailings was rich beyond their expectations. The committee had seen with
+their own eyes gold taken out of the sand and gravel to the amount of
+twenty dollars in the two short hours of their examination. And the work
+had been performed in the stupidest, clumsiest, yet PATIENT Chinese way.
+What might not white men do with better appointed machinery! A syndicate
+was at once formed. See Yup was offered twenty thousand dollars if
+he would sell out and put the syndicate in possession of the claim
+in twenty-four hours. The Chinaman received the offer stolidly. As he
+seemed inclined to hesitate, I am grieved to say that it was intimated
+to him that if he declined he might be subject to embarrassing and
+expensive legal proceedings to prove his property, and that companies
+would be formed to “prospect” the ground on either side of his heap of
+tailings. See Yup at last consented, with the proviso that the money
+should be paid in gold into the hands of a Chinese agent in San
+Francisco on the day of the delivery of the claim. The syndicate made
+no opposition to this characteristic precaution of the Chinaman. It
+was like them not to travel with money, and the implied uncomplimentary
+suspicion of danger from the community was overlooked. See Yup departed
+the day that the syndicate took possession. He came to see me before he
+went. I congratulated him upon his good fortune; at the same time, I was
+embarrassed by the conviction that he was unfairly forced into a sale of
+his property at a figure far below its real value.
+
+I think differently now.
+
+At the end of the week it was said that the new company cleared up
+about three hundred dollars. This was not so much as the community
+had expected, but the syndicate was apparently satisfied, and the new
+machinery was put up. At the end of the next week the syndicate were
+silent as to their returns. One of them made a hurried visit to San
+Francisco. It was said that he was unable to see either See Yup or the
+agent to whom the money was paid. It was also noticed that there was no
+Chinaman remaining in the settlement. Then the fatal secret was out.
+
+The heap of tailings had probably never yielded the See Yup company more
+than twenty dollars a week, the ordinary wage of such a company. See Yup
+had conceived the brilliant idea of “booming” it on a borrowed capital
+of five hundred dollars in gold-dust, which he OPENLY transmitted by
+express to his confederate and creditor in San Francisco, who in turn
+SECRETLY sent it back to See Yup by coolie messengers, to be again
+openly transmitted to San Francisco. The package of gold-dust was thus
+passed backwards and forwards between debtor and creditor, to the
+grave edification of the Express Company and the fatal curiosity of the
+settlement. When the syndicate had gorged the bait thus thrown out, See
+Yup, on the day the self-invited committee inspected the claim, promptly
+“salted” the tailings by CONSCIENTIOUSLY DISTRIBUTING THE GOLD-DUST OVER
+IT so deftly that it appeared to be its natural composition and yield.
+
+I have only to bid farewell to See Yup, and close this reminiscence of
+a misunderstood man, by adding the opinion of an eminent jurist in San
+Francisco, to whom the facts were submitted: “So clever was this alleged
+fraud, that it is extremely doubtful if an action would lie against See
+Yup in the premises, there being no legal evidence of the 'salting,'
+and none whatever of his actual allegation that the gold-dust was the
+ORDINARY yield of the tailings, that implication resting entirely with
+the committee who examined it under false pretense, and who subsequently
+forced the sale by intimidation.”
+
+
+
+
+THE DESBOROUGH CONNECTIONS
+
+
+“Then it isn't a question of property or next of kin?” said the consul.
+
+“Lord! no,” said the lady vivaciously. “Why, goodness me! I reckon
+old Desborough could, at any time before he died, have 'bought up' or
+'bought out' the whole lot of his relatives on this side of the
+big pond, no matter what they were worth. No, it's only a matter of
+curiosity and just sociableness.”
+
+The American consul at St. Kentigorn felt much relieved. He had feared
+it was only the old story of delusive quests for imaginary estates and
+impossible inheritances which he had confronted so often in nervous
+wan-eyed enthusiasts and obstreperous claimants from his own land.
+Certainly there was no suggestion of this in the richly dressed and
+be-diamonded matron before him, nor in her pretty daughter, charming in
+a Paris frock, alive with the consciousness of beauty and admiration,
+and yet a little ennuye from gratified indulgence. He knew the mother to
+be the wealthy widow of a New York millionaire, that she was traveling
+for pleasure in Europe, and a chance meeting with her at dinner a
+few nights before had led to this half-capricious, half-confidential
+appointment at the consulate.
+
+“No,” continued Mrs. Desborough; “Mr. Desborough came to America, when
+a small boy, with an uncle who died some years ago. Mr. Desborough never
+seemed to hanker much after his English relatives as long as I knew him,
+but now that I and Sadie are over here, why we guessed we might look 'em
+up and sort of sample 'em! 'Desborough' 's rather a good name,” added
+the lady, with a complacency that, however, had a suggestion of query in
+it.
+
+“Yes,” said the consul; “from the French, I fancy.”
+
+“Mr. Desborough was English--very English,” corrected the lady.
+
+“I mean it may be an old Norman name,” said the consul.
+
+“Norman's good enough for ME,” said the daughter, reflecting. “We'll
+just settle it as Norman. I never thought about that DES.”
+
+“Only you may find it called 'Debborough' here, and spelt so,” said the
+consul, smiling.
+
+Miss Desborough lifted her pretty shoulders and made a charming grimace.
+“Then we won't acknowledge 'em. No Debborough for me!”
+
+“You might put an advertisement in the papers, like the 'next of
+kin' notice, intimating, in the regular way, that they would 'hear of
+something to their advantage'--as they certainly would,” continued the
+consul, with a bow. “It would be such a refreshing change to the kind
+of thing I'm accustomed to, don't you know--this idea of one of my
+countrywomen coming over just to benefit English relatives! By Jove! I
+wouldn't mind undertaking the whole thing for you--it's such a novelty.”
+ He was quite carried away with the idea.
+
+But the two ladies were far from participating in this joyous outlook.
+“No,” said Mrs. Desborough promptly, “that wouldn't do. You see,” she
+went on with superb frankness, “that would be just giving ourselves
+away, and saying who WE were before we found out what THEY were like.
+Mr. Desborough was all right in HIS way, but we don't know anything
+about his FOLKS! We ain't here on a mission to improve the Desboroughs,
+nor to gather in any 'lost tribes.'”
+
+It was evident that, in spite of the humor of the situation and the
+levity of the ladies, there was a characteristic national practicalness
+about them, and the consul, with a sigh, at last gave the address of one
+or two responsible experts in genealogical inquiry, as he had often
+done before. He felt it was impossible to offer any advice to ladies
+as thoroughly capable of managing their own affairs as his fair
+countrywomen, yet he was not without some curiosity to know the result
+of their practical sentimental quest. That he should ever hear of them
+again he doubted. He knew that after their first loneliness had worn off
+in their gregarious gathering at a London hotel they were not likely to
+consort with their own country people, who indeed were apt to fight
+shy of one another, and even to indulge in invidious criticism of one
+another when admitted in that society to which they were all equally
+strangers. So he took leave of them on their way back to London with the
+belief that their acquaintance terminated with that brief incident. But
+he was mistaken.
+
+In the year following he was spending his autumn vacation at a
+country house. It was an historic house, and had always struck him as
+being--even in that country of historic seats--a singular example of the
+vicissitudes of English manorial estates and the mutations of its
+lords. His host in his prime had been recalled from foreign service
+to unexpectedly succeed to an uncle's title and estate. That estate,
+however, had come into the possession of the uncle only through his
+marriage with the daughter of an old family whose portraits still looked
+down from the walls upon the youngest and alien branch. There were
+likenesses, effigies, memorials, and reminiscences of still older
+families who had occupied it through forfeiture by war or the favoritism
+of kings, and in its stately cloisters and ruined chapel was still felt
+the dead hand of its evicted religious founders, which could not be
+shaken off.
+
+It was this strange individuality that affected all who saw it. For,
+however changed were those within its walls, whoever were its inheritors
+or inhabiters, Scrooby Priory never changed nor altered its own
+character. However incongruous or ill-assorted the portraits that looked
+from its walls,--so ill met that they might have flown at one another's
+throats in the long nights when the family were away,--the great
+house itself was independent of them all. The be-wigged, be-laced, and
+be-furbelowed of one day's gathering, the round-headed, steel-fronted,
+and prim-kerchiefed congregation of another day, and even the
+black-coated, bare-armed, and bare-shouldered assemblage of to-day had
+no effect on the austerities of the Priory. Modern houses might show
+the tastes and prepossessions of their dwellers, might have caught some
+passing trick of the hour, or have recorded the augmented fortunes or
+luxuriousness of the owner, but Scrooby Priory never! No one had dared
+even to disturb its outer rigid integrity; the breaches of time and
+siege were left untouched. It held its calm indifferent sway over all
+who passed its low-arched portals, and the consul was fain to believe
+that he--a foreign visitor--was no more alien to the house than its
+present owner.
+
+“I'm expecting a very charming compatriot of yours to-morrow,” said Lord
+Beverdale as they drove from the station together. “You must tell me
+what to show her.”
+
+“I should think any countrywoman of mine would be quite satisfied with
+the Priory,” said the consul, glancing thoughtfully towards the pile
+dimly seen through the park.
+
+“I shouldn't like her to be bored here,” continued Beverdale. “Algy met
+her at Rome, where she was occupying a palace with her mother--they're
+very rich, you know. He found she was staying with Lady Minever at
+Hedham Towers, and I went over and invited her with a little party.
+She's a Miss Desborough.”
+
+The consul gave a slight start, and was aware that Beverdale was looking
+at him.
+
+“Perhaps you know her?” said Beverdale.
+
+“Just enough to agree with you that she is charming,” said the consul.
+“I dined with them, and saw them at the consulate.”
+
+“Oh yes; I always forget you are a consul. Then, of course, you know
+all about them. I suppose they're very rich, and in society over there?”
+ said Beverdale in a voice that was quite animated.
+
+It was on the consul's lips to say that the late Mr. Desborough was an
+Englishman, and even to speak playfully of their proposed quest, but a
+sudden instinct withheld him. After all, perhaps it was only a caprice,
+or idea, they had forgotten,--perhaps, who knows?--that they were
+already ashamed of. They had evidently “got on” in English society, if
+that was their real intent, and doubtless Miss Desborough, by this time,
+was quite as content with the chance of becoming related to the Earl of
+Beverdale, through his son and heir, Algernon, as if they had found a
+real Lord Desborough among their own relatives. The consul knew that
+Lord Beverdale was not a rich man, that like most men of old family he
+was not a slave to class prejudice; indeed, the consul had seen very few
+noblemen off the stage or out of the pages of a novel who were. So he
+said, with a slight affectation of authority, that there was as
+little doubt of the young lady's wealth as there was of her personal
+attractions.
+
+They were nearing the house through a long avenue of chestnuts whose
+variegated leaves were already beginning to strew the ground beneath,
+and they could see the vista open upon the mullioned windows of the
+Priory, lighted up by the yellow October sunshine. In that sunshine
+stood a tall, clean-limbed young fellow, dressed in a shooting-suit,
+whom the consul recognized at once as Lord Algernon, the son of his
+companion. As if to accent the graces of this vision of youth and vigor,
+near him, in the shadow, an old man had halted, hat in hand, still
+holding the rake with which he had been gathering the dead leaves in the
+avenue; his back bent, partly with years, partly with the obeisance of
+a servitor. There was something so marked in this contrast, in this
+old man standing in the shadow of the fading year, himself as dried and
+withered as the leaves he was raking, yet pausing to make his reverence
+to this passing sunshine of youth and prosperity in the presence of his
+coming master, that the consul, as they swept by, looked after him with
+a stirring of pain.
+
+“Rather an old man to be still at work,” said the consul.
+
+Beverdale laughed. “You must not let him hear you say so; he considers
+himself quite as fit as any younger man in the place, and, by Jove!
+though he's nearly eighty, I'm inclined to believe it. He's not one of
+our people, however; he comes from the village, and is taken on at odd
+times, partly to please himself. His great aim is to be independent of
+his children,--he has a granddaughter who is one of the maids at the
+Priory,--and to keep himself out of the workhouse. He does not come from
+these parts--somewhere farther north, I fancy. But he's a tough lot, and
+has a deal of work in him yet.”
+
+“Seems to be going a bit stale lately,” said Lord Algernon, “and I think
+is getting a little queer in his head. He has a trick of stopping and
+staring straight ahead, at times, when he seems to go off for a minute
+or two. There!” continued the young man, with a light laugh. “I say!
+he's doing it now!” They both turned quickly and gazed at the bent
+figure--not fifty yards away--standing in exactly the same attitude as
+before. But, even as they gazed, he slowly lifted his rake and began his
+monotonous work again.
+
+At Scrooby Priory, the consul found that the fame of his fair
+countrywoman had indeed preceded her, and that the other guests were
+quite as anxious to see Miss Desborough as he was. One of them had
+already met her in London; another knew her as one of the house party at
+the Duke of Northforeland's, where she had been a central figure. Some
+of her naive sallies and frank criticisms were repeated with great
+unction by the gentlemen, and with some slight trepidation and a
+“fearful joy” by the ladies. He was more than ever convinced that mother
+and daughter had forgotten their lineal Desboroughs, and he resolved to
+leave any allusion to it to the young lady herself.
+
+She, however, availed herself of that privilege the evening after her
+arrival. “Who'd have thought of meeting YOU here?” she said, sweeping
+her skirts away to make room for him on a sofa. “It's a coon's age
+since I saw you--not since you gave us that letter to those genealogical
+gentlemen in London.”
+
+The consul hoped that it had proved successful.
+
+“Yes, but maw guessed we didn't care to go back to Hengist and Horsa,
+and when they let loose a lot of 'Debboroughs' and 'Daybrooks' upon us,
+maw kicked! We've got a drawing ten yards long, that looks like a sour
+apple tree, with lots of Desboroughs hanging up on the branches like
+last year's pippins, and I guess about as worm-eaten. We took that well
+enough, but when it came to giving us a map of straight lines and dashes
+with names written under them like an old Morse telegraph slip, struck
+by lightning, then maw and I guessed that it made us tired.
+
+“You know,” she went on, opening her clear gray eyes on the consul, with
+a characteristic flash of shrewd good sense through her quaint humor,
+“we never reckoned where this thing would land us, and we found we
+were paying a hundred pounds, not only for the Desboroughs, but all the
+people they'd MARRIED, and their CHILDREN, and children's children, and
+there were a lot of outsiders we'd never heard of, nor wanted to hear
+of. Maw once thought she'd got on the trail of a Plantagenet, and
+followed it keen, until she found she had been reading the dreadful
+thing upside down. Then we concluded we wouldn't take any more stock in
+the family until it had risen.”
+
+During this speech the consul could not help noticing that, although her
+attitude was playfully confidential to him, her voice really was pitched
+high enough to reach the ears of smaller groups around her, who were not
+only following her with the intensest admiration, but had shamelessly
+abandoned their own conversation, and had even faced towards her. Was
+she really posing in her naivete? There was a certain mischievous,
+even aggressive, consciousness in her pretty eyelids. Then she suddenly
+dropped both eyes and voice, and said to the consul in a genuine aside,
+“I like this sort of thing much better.”
+
+The consul looked puzzled. “What sort of thing?”
+
+“Why, all these swell people, don't you see? those pictures on the
+walls! this elegant room! everything that has come down from the past,
+all ready and settled for you, you know--ages ago! Something you haven't
+to pick up for yourself and worry over.”
+
+But here the consul pointed out that the place itself was not
+“ancestral” as regarded the present earl, and that even the original
+title of his predecessors had passed away from it. “In fact, it came
+into the family by one of those 'outsiders' you deprecate. But I dare
+say you'd find the place quite as comfortable with Lord Beverdale for a
+host as you would if you had found out he were a cousin,” he added.
+
+“Better,” said the young lady frankly.
+
+“I suppose your mother participates in these preferences?” said the
+consul, with a smile.
+
+“No,” said Miss Desborough, with the same frankness, “I think maw's
+rather cut up at not finding a Desborough. She was invited down here,
+but SHE'S rather independent, you know, so she allowed I could take care
+of myself, while she went off to stay with the old Dowager Lady Mistowe,
+who thinks maw a very proper womanly person. I made maw mad by telling
+her that's just what old Lady Mistowe would say of her cook--for I can't
+stand these people's patronage. However, I shouldn't wonder if I was
+invited here as a 'most original person.'”
+
+But here Lord Algernon came up to implore her to sing them one of “those
+plantation songs;” and Miss Desborough, with scarcely a change of voice
+or manner, allowed herself to be led to the piano. The consul had
+little chance to speak with her again, but he saw enough that evening to
+convince him not only that Lord Algernon was very much in love with
+her, but that the fact had been equally and complacently accepted by the
+family and guests. That her present visit was only an opportunity for a
+formal engagement was clear to every woman in the house--not excepting,
+I fear, even the fair subject of gossip herself. Yet she seemed so
+unconcerned and self-contained that the consul wondered if she really
+cared for Lord Algernon. And having thus wondered, he came to the
+conclusion that it didn't much matter, for the happiness of so
+practically organized a young lady, if she loved him or not.
+
+It is highly probable that Miss Sadie Desborough had not even gone so
+far as to ask herself that question. She awoke the next morning with a
+sense of easy victory and calm satisfaction that had, however, none of
+the transports of affection. Her taste was satisfied by the love of
+a handsome young fellow,--a typical Englishman,--who, if not exactly
+original or ideal, was, she felt, of an universally accepted,
+“hall-marked” standard, the legitimate outcome of a highly ordered,
+carefully guarded civilization, whose repose was the absence of struggle
+or ambition; a man whose regular features were not yet differentiated
+from the rest of his class by any of those disturbing lines which people
+call character. Everything was made ready for her, without care or
+preparation; she had not even an ideal to realize or to modify. She
+could slip without any jar or dislocation into this life which was just
+saved from self-indulgence and sybaritic luxury by certain conventional
+rules of activity and the occupation of amusement which, as obligations
+of her position, even appeared to suggest the novel aspect of a DUTY!
+She could accept all this without the sense of being an intruder in
+an unbroken lineage--thanks to the consul's account of the Beverdales'
+inheritance. She already pictured herself as the mistress of this fair
+domain, the custodian of its treasures and traditions, and the dispenser
+of its hospitalities, but--as she conscientiously believed--without
+pride or vanity, in her position; only an intense and thoughtful
+appreciation of it. Nor did she dream of ever displaying it
+ostentatiously before her less fortunate fellow countrywomen; on the
+contrary, she looked forward to their possible criticism of her casting
+off all transatlantic ties with an uneasy consciousness that was perhaps
+her nearest approach to patriotism. Yet, again, she reasoned that, as
+her father was an Englishman, she was only returning to her old home.
+As to her mother, she had already comforted herself by noticing certain
+discrepancies in that lady's temperament, which led her to believe that
+she herself alone inherited her father's nature--for her mother was, of
+course, distinctly American! So little conscious was she of any possible
+snobbishness in this belief, that in her superb naivete she would have
+argued the point with the consul, and employed a wit and dialect that
+were purely American.
+
+She had slipped out of the Priory early that morning that she might
+enjoy alone, unattended and unciceroned, the aspect of that vast estate
+which might be hers for the mere accepting. Perhaps there was some
+instinct of delicacy in her avoiding Lord Algernon that morning; not
+wishing, as she herself might have frankly put it, “to take stock” of
+his inheritance in his presence. As she passed into the garden through
+the low postern door, she turned to look along the stretching facade of
+the main building, with the high stained windows of its banqueting-hall
+and the state chamber where a king had slept. Even in that crisp October
+air, and with the green of its ivied battlements against the gold of
+the distant wood, it seemed to lie in the languid repose of an eternal
+summer. She hurried on down the other terrace into the Italian garden, a
+quaint survival of past grandeur, passed the great orangery and numerous
+conservatories, making a crystal hamlet in themselves--seeing everywhere
+the same luxury. But it was a luxury that she fancied was redeemed
+from the vulgarity of ostentation by the long custom of years and
+generations, so unlike the millionaire palaces of her own land; and, in
+her enthusiasm, she even fancied it was further sanctified by the grim
+monastic founders who had once been content with bread and pulse in the
+crumbling and dismantled refectory. In the plenitude of her feelings she
+felt a slight recognition of some beneficent being who had rolled this
+golden apple at her feet, and felt as if she really should like to “do
+good” in her sphere.
+
+It so chanced that, passing through a small gate in the park, she saw
+walking, a little ahead of her, a young girl whom she at once recognized
+as a Miss Amelyn, one of the guests of the evening before. Miss
+Desborough remembered that she played the accompaniment of one or two
+songs upon the piano, and had even executed a long solo during the
+general conversation, without attention from the others, and apparently
+with little irritation to herself, subsiding afterwards into an
+armchair, quite on the fringe of other people's conversation. She had
+been called “my dear” by one or two dowagers, and by her Christian name
+by the earl, and had a way of impalpably melting out of sight at times.
+These trifles led Miss Desborough to conclude that she was some kind of
+dependent or poor relation. Here was an opportunity to begin her work of
+“doing good.” She quickened her pace and overtook Miss Amelyn.
+
+“Let me walk with you,” she said graciously.
+
+The young English girl smiled assent, but looked her surprise at seeing
+the cynosure of last night's eyes unattended.
+
+“Oh,” said Sadie, answering the mute query, “I didn't want to be 'shown
+round' by anybody, and I'm not going to bore YOU with asking to see
+sights either. We'll just walk together; wherever YOU'RE going is good
+enough for me.”
+
+“I'm going as far as the village,” said Miss Amelyn, looking down
+doubtfully at Sadie's smart French shoes--“if you care to walk so far.”
+
+Sadie noticed that her companion was more solidly booted, and that
+her straight, short skirts, although less stylish than her own, had
+a certain character, better fitted to the freer outdoor life of the
+country. But she only said, however, “The village will do,” and gayly
+took her companion's arm.
+
+“But I'm afraid you'll find it very uninteresting, for I am going to
+visit some poor cottages,” persisted Miss Amelyn, with a certain
+timid ingenuousness of manner which, however, was as distinct as Miss
+Desborough's bolder frankness. “I promised the rector's daughter to take
+her place to-day.”
+
+“And I feel as if I was ready to pour oil and wine to any extent,” said
+Miss Desborough, “so come along!”
+
+Miss Amelyn laughed, and yet glanced around her timidly, as if she
+thought that Miss Desborough ought to have a larger and more important
+audience. Then she continued more confidentially and boldly, “But it
+isn't at all like 'slumming,' you know. These poor people here are not
+very bad, and are not at all extraordinary.”
+
+“Never mind,” said Sadie, hurrying her along. After a pause she went on,
+“You know the Priory very well, I guess?”
+
+“I lived there when I was a little girl, with my aunt, the Dowager Lady
+Beverdale,” said Miss Amelyn. “When my cousin Fred, who was the young
+heir, died, and the present Lord Beverdale succeeded,--HE never expected
+it, you know, for there were two lives, his two elder brothers, besides
+poor Fred's, between, but they both died,--we went to live in the Dower
+House.”
+
+“The Dower House?” repeated Sadie.
+
+“Yes, Lady Beverdale's separate property.”
+
+“But I thought all this property--the Priory--came into the family
+through HER.”
+
+“It did--this was the Amelyns' place; but the oldest son or nearest male
+heir always succeeds to the property and title.”
+
+“Do you mean to say that the present Lord Beverdale turned that old lady
+out?”
+
+Miss Amelyn looked shocked. “I mean to say,” she said gravely, “Lady
+Beverdale would have had to go when her own son became of age, had
+he lived.” She paused, and then said timidly, “Isn't it that way in
+America?”
+
+“Dear no!” Miss Desborough had a faint recollection that there was
+something in the Constitution or the Declaration of Independence against
+primogeniture. “No! the men haven't it ALL their own way THERE--not
+much!”
+
+Miss Amelyn looked as if she did not care to discuss this problem. After
+a few moments Sadie continued, “You and Lord Algernon are pretty old
+friends, I guess?”
+
+“No,” replied Miss Amelyn. “He came once or twice to the Priory for the
+holidays, when he was quite a boy at Marlborough--for the family weren't
+very well off, and his father was in India. He was a very shy boy, and
+of course no one ever thought of him succeeding.”
+
+Miss Desborough felt half inclined to be pleased with this, and yet half
+inclined to resent this possible snubbing of her future husband. But
+they were nearing the village, and Miss Amelyn turned the conversation
+to the object of her visit. It was a new village--an unhandsome village,
+for all that it stood near one of the gates of the park. It had been
+given over to some mines that were still worked in its vicinity, and to
+the railway, which the uncle of the present earl had resisted; but the
+railway had triumphed, and the station for Scrooby Priory was there.
+There was a grim church, of a blackened or weather-beaten stone, on the
+hill, with a few grim Amelyns reposing cross-legged in the chancel, but
+the character of the village was as different from the Priory as if it
+were in another county. They stopped at the rectory, where Miss Amelyn
+provided herself with certain doles and gifts, which the American
+girl would have augmented with a five-pound note but for Miss Amelyn's
+horrified concern. “As many shillings would do, and they would be as
+grateful,” she said. “More they wouldn't understand.”
+
+“Then keep it, and dole it out as you like,” said Sadie quickly.
+
+“But I don't think that--that Lord Beverdale would quite approve,”
+ hesitated Miss Amelyn.
+
+The pretty brow of her companion knit, and her gray eyes flashed
+vivaciously. “What has HE to do with it?” she said pertly; “besides, you
+say these are not HIS poor. Take that five-pound note--or--I'll DOUBLE
+it, get it changed into sovereigns at the station, and hand 'em round to
+every man, woman, and child.”
+
+Miss Amelyn hesitated. The American girl looked capable of doing what
+she said; perhaps it was a national way of almsgiving! She took the
+note, with the mental reservation of making a full confession to the
+rector and Lord Beverdale.
+
+She was right in saying that the poor of Scrooby village were not
+interesting. There was very little squalor or degradation; their poverty
+seemed not a descent, but a condition to which they had been born; the
+faces which Sadie saw were dulled and apathetic rather than sullen
+or rebellious; they stood up when Miss Amelyn entered, paying HER the
+deference, but taking little note of the pretty butterfly who was with
+her, or rather submitting to her frank curiosity with that dull consent
+of the poor, as if they had lost even the sense of privacy, or a right
+to respect. It seemed to the American girl that their poverty was more
+indicated by what they were SATISFIED with than what she thought they
+MISSED. It is to be feared that this did not add to Sadie's sympathy;
+all the beggars she had seen in America wanted all they could get, and
+she felt as if she were confronted with an inferior animal.
+
+“There's a wonderful old man lives here,” said Miss Amelyn, as they
+halted before a stone and thatch cottage quite on the outskirts of
+the village. “We can't call him one of our poor, for he still works,
+although over eighty, and it's his pride to keep out of the poorhouse,
+and, as he calls it, 'off' the hands of his granddaughters. But we
+manage to do something for THEM, and we hope he profits by it. One of
+them is at the Priory; they're trying to make a maid of her, but her
+queer accent--they're from the north--is against her with the servants.
+I am afraid we won't see old Debs, for he's at work again to-day, though
+the doctor has warned him.”
+
+“Debs! What a funny name!”
+
+“Yes, but as many of these people cannot read or write, the name is
+carried by the ear, and not always correctly. Some of the railway
+navvies, who come from the north as he does, call him 'Debbers.'”
+
+They were obliged to descend into the cottage, which was so low that it
+seemed to have sunk into the earth until its drooping eaves of thatch
+mingled with the straw heap beside it. Debs was not at home. But his
+granddaughter was there, who, after a preliminary “bob,” continued the
+stirring of the pot before the fire in tentative silence.
+
+“I am sorry to find that your grandfather has gone to work again in
+spite of the doctor's orders,” said Miss Amelyn.
+
+The girl continued to stir the pot, and then said without looking
+up, but as if also continuing a train of aggressive thoughts with her
+occupation: “Eay, but 'e's so set oop in 'issen 'ee doan't take orders
+from nobbut--leastways doctor. Moinds 'em now moor nor a floy. Says 'ee
+knaws there nowt wrong wi' 'is 'eart. Mout be roight--how'siver, sarten
+sewer, 'is 'EAD'S a' in a muddle! Toims 'ee goes off stamrin' and
+starin' at nowt, as if 'ee a'nt a n'aporth o' sense. How'siver I be
+doing my duty by 'em--and 'ere's 'is porritch when a' cooms--'gin a' be
+sick or maad.”
+
+What the American understood of the girl's speech and manner struck
+her as having very little sympathy with either her aged relative or her
+present visitor. And there was a certain dogged selfish independence
+about her that Miss Desborough half liked and half resented. However,
+Miss Amelyn did not seem to notice it, and, after leaving a bottle of
+port for the grandfather, she took her leave and led Sadie away. As they
+passed into the village a carriage, returning to the Priory, filled with
+their fellow guests, dashed by, but was instantly pulled up at a word
+from Lord Algernon, who leaped from the vehicle, hat in hand, and
+implored the fair truant and her companion to join them.
+
+“We're just making a tour around Windover Hill, and back to luncheon,”
+ he said, with a rising color. “We missed you awfully! If we had known
+you were so keen on 'good works,' and so early at it, by Jove! we'd have
+got up a 'slummin' party,' and all joined!”
+
+“And you haven't seen half,” said Lord Beverdale from the box. “Miss
+Amelyn's too partial to the village. There's an old drunken retired
+poacher somewhere in a hut in Crawley Woods, whom it's death to
+approach, except with a large party. There's malignant diphtheria over
+at the South Farm, eight down with measles at the keeper's, and an old
+woman who has been bedridden for years.”
+
+But Miss Desborough was adamant, though sparkling. She thanked him,
+but said she had just seen an old woman “who had been lying in bed for
+twenty years, and hadn't spoken the truth once!” She proposed “going
+outside of Lord Beverdale's own preserves of grain-fed poor,” and
+starting up her own game. She would return in time for luncheon--if she
+could; if not, she “should annex the gruel of the first kind incapable
+she met.”
+
+Yet, actually, she was far from displeased at being accidentally
+discovered by these people while following out her capricious whim of
+the morning. One or two elder ladies, who had fought shy of her frocks
+and her frankness the evening before, were quite touched now by this
+butterfly who was willing to forego the sunlight of society, and soil
+her pretty wings on the haunts of the impoverished, with only a single
+companion,--of her own sex!--and smiled approvingly. And in her present
+state of mind, remembering her companion's timid attitude towards Lord
+Beverdale's opinions, she was not above administering this slight snub
+to him in her presence.
+
+When they had driven away, with many regrets, Miss Amelyn was deeply
+concerned. “I am afraid,” she said, with timid conscientiousness, “I
+have kept you from going with them. And you must be bored with what you
+have seen, I know. I don't believe you really care one bit for it--and
+you are only doing it to please me.”
+
+“Trot out the rest of your show,” said Sadie promptly, “and we'll wind
+up by lunching with the rector.”
+
+“He'd be too delighted,” said Miss Amelyn, with disaster written all
+over her girlish, truthful face, “but--but--you know--it really wouldn't
+be quite right to Lord Beverdale. You're his principal guest--you know,
+and--they'd think I had taken you off.”
+
+“Well,” said Miss Desborough impetuously, “what's the matter with that
+inn--the Red Lion? We can get a sandwich there, I guess. I'm not VERY
+hungry.”
+
+Miss Amelyn looked horrified for a moment, and then laughed; but
+immediately became concerned again. “No! listen to me, REALLY now! Let
+me finish my round alone! You'll have ample time if you go NOW to reach
+the Priory for luncheon. Do, please! It would be ever so much better for
+everybody. I feel quite guilty as it is, and I suppose I am already in
+Lord Beverdale's black books.”
+
+The trouble in the young girl's face was unmistakable, and as it suited
+Miss Desborough's purpose just as well to show her independence by
+returning, as she had set out, alone, she consented to go. Miss Amelyn
+showed her a short cut across the park, and they separated--to meet at
+dinner. In this brief fellowship, the American girl had kept a certain
+supremacy and half-fascination over the English girl, even while she was
+conscious of an invincible character in Miss Amelyn entirely different
+from and superior to her own. Certainly there was a difference in the
+two peoples. Why else this inherited conscientious reverence for Lord
+Beverdale's position, shown by Miss Amelyn, which she, an American alive
+to its practical benefits, could not understand? Would Miss Amelyn and
+Lord Algernon have made a better match? The thought irritated her, even
+while she knew that she herself possessed the young man's affections,
+the power to marry him, and, as she believed, kept her own independence
+in the matter.
+
+As she entered the iron gates at the lower end of the park, and glanced
+at the interwoven cipher and crest of the Amelyns still above, she was
+conscious that the wind was blowing more chill, and that a few clouds
+had gathered. As she walked on down the long winding avenue, the sky
+became overcast, and, in one of those strange contrasts of the English
+climate, the glory of the whole day went out with the sunshine. The
+woods suddenly became wrinkled and gray, the distant hills sombre, the
+very English turf beneath her feet grew brown; a mile and a half away,
+through the opening of the trees, the west part of the Priory looked
+a crumbling, ivy-eaten ruin. A few drops of rain fell. She hurried
+on. Suddenly she remembered that the avenue made a long circuit before
+approaching the house, and that its lower end, where she was walking,
+was but a fringe of the park. Consequently there must be a short cut
+across some fields and farm buildings to the back of the park and the
+Priory. She at once diverged to the right, presently found a low fence,
+which she clambered over, and again found a footpath which led to a
+stile. Crossing that, she could see the footpath now led directly to the
+Priory,--now a grim and austere looking pile in the suddenly dejected
+landscape,--and that it was probably used only by the servants and
+farmers. A gust of wind brought some swift needles of rain to her cheek;
+she could see the sad hills beyond the Priory already veiling their
+faces; she gathered her skirts and ran. The next field was a long one,
+but beside the further stile was a small clump of trees, the only ones
+between her and the park. Hurrying on to that shelter, she saw that the
+stile was already occupied by a tall but bent figure, holding a long
+stick in his hand, which gave him the appearance, against the horizon,
+of the figure of Time leaning on his scythe. As she came nearer she saw
+it was, indeed, an old man, half resting on his rake. He was very
+rugged and weather-beaten, and although near the shelter of the trees,
+apparently unmindful of the rain that was falling on his bald head, and
+the limp cap he was holding uselessly in one hand. He was staring at
+her, yet apparently unconscious of her presence. A sudden instinct came
+upon her--it was “Debs”!
+
+She went directly up to him, and with that frank common sense which
+ordinarily distinguished her, took his cap from his hand and put it
+on his head, grasped his arm firmly, and led him to the shelter of the
+tree. Then she wiped the raindrops from his face with her handkerchief,
+shook out her own dress and her wet parasol, and, propping her companion
+against the tree, said:--
+
+“There, Mr. Debs! I've heard of people who didn't know enough to come in
+when it rained, but I never met one before.”
+
+The old man started, lifted his hairy, sinewy arm, bared to the elbow,
+and wiped his bare throat with the dry side of it. Then a look of
+intelligence--albeit half aggressive--came into his face. “Wheer beest
+tha going?” he asked.
+
+Something in his voice struck Sadie like a vague echo. Perhaps it was
+only the queer dialect--or some resemblance to his granddaughter's
+voice. She looked at him a little more closely as she said:--
+
+“To the Priory.”
+
+“Whaat?”
+
+She pointed with her parasol to the gray pile in the distance. It was
+possible that this demented peasant didn't even UNDERSTAND English.
+
+“The hall. Oh, ay!” Suddenly his brows knit ominously as he faced her.
+“An' wassist tha doin' drest oop in this foinery? Wheer gettist thee
+that goawn? Thissen, or thy maester? Nowt even a napron, fit for thy
+wark as maaid at serviss; an' parson a gettin' tha plaace at Hall! So
+thou'lt be high and moity will tha! thou'lt not walk wi' maaids, but
+traipse by thissen like a slut in the toon--dang tha!”
+
+Although it was plain to Sadie that the old man, in his wandering
+perception, had mistaken her for his granddaughter in service at the
+Priory, there was still enough rudeness in his speech for her to have
+resented it. But, strange to say, there was a kind of authority in it
+that touched her with an uneasiness and repulsion that was stronger than
+any other feeling. “I think you have mistaken me for some one else,”
+ she said hurriedly, yet wondering why she had admitted it, and even
+irritated at the admission. “I am a stranger here, a visitor at the
+Priory. I called with Miss Amelyn at your cottage, and saw your other
+granddaughter; that's how I knew your name.”
+
+The old man's face changed. A sad, senile smile of hopeless bewilderment
+crept into his hard mouth; he plucked his limp cap from his head and
+let it hang submissively in his fingers, as if it were his sole apology.
+Then he tried to straighten himself, and said, “Naw offins, miss, naw
+offins! If tha knaws mea tha'll knaw I'm grandfeyther to two galls as
+moight be tha owern age; tha'll tell 'ee that old Debs at haaty years
+'as warked and niver lost a day as man or boy; has niver coome oopen 'em
+for n'aporth. An' 'e'll keep out o' warkus till he doy. An' 'ee's put by
+enow to by wi' his own feythers in Lanksheer, an' not liggen aloane in
+parson's choorchyard.”
+
+It was part of her uneasiness that, scarcely understanding or, indeed,
+feeling any interest in these maundering details, she still seemed
+to have an odd comprehension of his character and some reminiscent
+knowledge of him, as if she were going through the repetition of some
+unpleasant dream. Even his wrinkled face was becoming familiar to her.
+Some weird attraction was holding her; she wanted to get away from it as
+much as she wanted to analyze it. She glanced ostentatiously at the sky,
+prepared to open her parasol, and began to edge cautiously away.
+
+“Then tha beant from these pearts?” he said suddenly.
+
+“No, no,” she said quickly and emphatically,--“no, I'm an American.”
+
+The old man started and moved towards her, eagerly, his keen eyes
+breaking through the film that at times obscured them. “'Merrikan! tha
+baist 'Merrikan? Then tha knaws ma son John, 'ee war nowt but a bairn
+when brether Dick took un to 'Merriky! Naw! Now! that wor fifty years
+sen!--niver wroate to his old feyther--niver coomed back, 'Ee wor
+tall-loike, an' thea said 'e feavored mea.” He stopped, threw up his
+head, and with his skinny fingers drew back his long, straggling locks
+from his sunken cheeks, and stared in her face. The quick transition
+of fascination, repulsion, shock, and indefinable apprehension made her
+laugh hysterically. To her terror he joined in it, and eagerly clasped
+her wrists. “Eh, lass! tha knaws John--tha coomes from un to ole
+grandfeyther. Who-rr-u! Eay! but tha tho't to fool mea, did tha, lass?
+Whoy, I knoawed tha voice, for a' tha foine peacock feathers. So tha be
+John's gell coom from Ameriky. Dear! a dear! Coom neaur, lass! let's see
+what tha's loike. Eh, but thou'lt kiss tha grandfather, sewerly?”
+
+A wild terror and undefined consternation had completely overpowered
+her! But she made a desperate effort to free her wrists, and burst out
+madly:--
+
+“Let me go! How dare you! I don't know you or yours! I'm nothing to you
+or your kin! My name is Desborough--do you understand--do you hear me,
+Mr. Debs?--DESBOROUGH!”
+
+At the word the old man's fingers stiffened like steel around her
+wrists, as he turned upon her a hard, invincible face.
+
+“So thou'lt call thissen Des-borough, wilt tha? Let me tell tha, then,
+that 'Debs,' 'Debban,' 'Debbrook,' and 'Des-borough' are all a seame!
+Ay! thy feyther and thy feyther's feyther! Thou'lt be a Des-borough,
+will tha? Dang tha! and look doon on tha kin, and dress thissen in silks
+o' shame! Tell 'ee thou'rt an ass, gell! Don't tha hear? An ass! for all
+tha bean John's bairn! An ass! that's what tha beast!”
+
+With flashing eyes and burning cheeks she made one more supreme
+effort, lifting her arms, freeing her wrists, and throwing the old man
+staggering from her. Then she leaped the stile, turned, and fled through
+the rain. But before she reached the end of the field she stopped! She
+had freed herself--she was stronger than he--what had she to fear? He
+was crazy! Yes, he MUST be crazy, and he had insulted her, but he was an
+old man--and God knows what! Her heart was beating rapidly, her breath
+was hurried, but she ran back to the stile.
+
+He was not there. The field sloped away on either side of it. But she
+could distinguish nothing in the pouring rain above the wind-swept
+meadow. He must have gone home. Relieved for a moment she turned and
+hurried on towards the Priory.
+
+But at every step she was followed, not by the old man's presence, but
+by what he had said to her, which she could not shake off as she had
+shaken off his detaining fingers. Was it the ravings of insanity, or had
+she stumbled unwittingly upon some secret--was it after all a SECRET?
+Perhaps it was something they all knew, or would know later. And she had
+come down here for this. For back of her indignation, back even of her
+disbelief in his insanity, there was an awful sense of truth! The names
+he had flung out, of “Debs,” “Debban,” and “Debbrook” now flashed upon
+her as something she had seen before, but had not understood. Until she
+satisfied herself of this, she felt she could not live or breathe! She
+loathed the Priory, with its austere exclusiveness, as it rose before
+her; she wished she had never entered it; but it contained that which
+she must know, and know at once! She entered the nearest door and ran
+up the grand staircase. Her flushed face and disordered appearance were
+easily accounted for by her exposure to the sudden storm. She went to
+her bedroom, sent her maid to another room to prepare a change of dress,
+and sinking down before her traveling-desk, groped for a document. Ah!
+there it was--the expensive toy that she had played with! She hastily
+ran over its leaves to the page she already remembered. And there, among
+the dashes and perpendicular lines she had jested over last night, on
+which she had thought was a collateral branch of the line, stood her
+father's name and that of Richard, his uncle, with the bracketed note in
+red ink, “see Debbrook, Daybrook, Debbers, and Debs.” Yes! this gaunt,
+half-crazy, overworked peasant, content to rake the dead leaves before
+the rolling chariots of the Beverdales, was her grandfather; that poorly
+clad girl in the cottage, and even the menial in the scullery of this
+very house that might be HERS, were her COUSINS! She burst into a laugh,
+and then refolded the document and put it away.
+
+At luncheon she was radiant and sparkling. Her drenched clothes were
+an excuse for a new and ravishing toilette. She had never looked so
+beautiful before, and significant glances were exchanged between some
+of the guests, who believed that the expected proposal had already come.
+But those who were of the carriage party knew otherwise, and of Lord
+Algernon's disappointment. Lord Beverdale contented himself with
+rallying his fair guest on the becomingness of “good works.” But he
+continued, “You're offering a dreadful example to these ladies, Miss
+Desborough, and I know I shall never hereafter be able to content them
+with any frivolous morning amusement at the Priory. For myself, when
+I am grown gouty and hideous, I know I shall bloom again as a district
+visitor.”
+
+Yet under this surface sparkle and nervous exaltation Sadie never lost
+consciousness of the gravity of the situation. If her sense of humor
+enabled her to see one side of its grim irony; if she experienced a
+wicked satisfaction in accepting the admiration and easy confidence of
+the high-born guests, knowing that her cousin had assisted in preparing
+the meal they were eating, she had never lost sight of the practical
+effect of the discovery she had made. And she had come to a final
+resolution. She should leave the Priory at once, and abandon all idea of
+a matrimonial alliance with its heir! Inconsistent as this might seem
+to her selfish, worldly nature, it was nevertheless in keeping with a
+certain pride and independence that was in her blood. She did not love
+Lord Algernon, neither did she love her grandfather; she was equally
+willing to sacrifice either or both; she knew that neither Lord Algernon
+nor his father would make her connections an objection, however they
+might wish to keep the fact a secret, or otherwise dispose of them by
+pensions or emigration, but she could not bear to KNOW IT HERSELF!
+She never could be happy as the mistress of Scrooby Priory with that
+knowledge; she did not idealize it as a principle! Carefully weighing it
+by her own practical common sense, she said to herself that “it wouldn't
+pay.” The highest independence is often akin to the lowest selfishness;
+she did not dream that the same pride which kept her grandfather from
+the workhouse and support by his daughters, and had even kept him from
+communicating with his own son, now kept her from acknowledging them,
+even for the gift of a title and domain. There was only one question
+before her: should she stay long enough to receive the proposal of Lord
+Algernon, and then decline it? Why should she not snatch that single
+feminine joy out of the ashes of her burnt-up illusion? She knew that an
+opportunity would be offered that afternoon. The party were to take tea
+at Broxby Hall, and Lord Algernon was to drive her there in his dogcart.
+Miss Desborough had gone up to her bedroom to put on a warmer cloak, and
+had rung twice or thrice impatiently for her maid.
+
+When the girl made her appearance, apologetic, voluble, and excited,
+Miss Desborough scarcely listened to her excuses, until a single word
+suddenly arrested her attention. It was “old Debs.”
+
+“What ARE you talking about?” said Sadie, pausing in the adjustment of
+her hat on her brown hair.
+
+“Old Debs, miss,--that's what they call him; an old park-keeper, just
+found dead in a pool of water in the fields; the grandfather of one of
+the servants here; and there's such an excitement in the servants' hall.
+The gentlemen all knew it, too, for I heard Lord Algernon say that
+he was looking very queer lately, and might have had a fit; and Lord
+Beverdale has sent word to the coroner. And only think, the people here
+are such fools that they daren't touch or move the poor man, and him
+lyin' there in the rain all the time, until the coroner comes!”
+
+Miss Desborough had been steadily regarding herself in the glass to see
+if she had turned pale. She had. She set her teeth together until
+the color partly returned. But she kept her face away from the maid.
+“That'll do,” she said quietly. “You can tell me all later. I have some
+important news myself, and I may not go out after all. I want you to
+take a note for me.” She went to her table, wrote a line in pencil,
+folded it, scribbled an address upon it, handed it to the girl, and
+gently pushed her from the room.
+
+*****
+
+The consul was lingering on the terrace beside one of the carriages; at
+a little distance a groom was holding the nervous thoroughbred of Lord
+Algernon's dog-cart. Suddenly he felt a touch on his shoulder, and Miss
+Desborough's maid put a note in his hand. It contained only a line:--
+
+
+Please come and see me in the library, but without making any fuss about
+it--at once. S. D.
+
+
+The consul glanced around him; no one had apparently noticed the
+incident. He slipped back into the house and made his way to the
+library. It was a long gallery; at the further end Miss Desborough stood
+cloaked, veiled, and coquettishly hatted. She was looking very beautiful
+and animated. “I want you to please do me a great favor,” she said, with
+an adorable smile, “as your own countrywoman, you know--for the sake of
+Fourth of July and Pumpkin Pie and the Old Flag! I don't want to go
+to this circus to-day. I am going to leave here to-night! I am! Honest
+Injin! I want YOU to manage it. I want you to say that as consul you've
+received important news for me: the death of some relative, if you like;
+or better, something AFFECTING MY PROPERTY, you know,” with a little
+satirical laugh. “I guess that would fetch 'em! So go at once.”
+
+“But really, Miss Desborough, do let us talk this over before you
+decide!” implored the bewildered consul. “Think what a disappointment to
+your host and these ladies. Lord Algernon expects to drive you there; he
+is already waiting! The party was got up for you!” Miss Desborough made
+a slight grimace. “I mean you ought to sacrifice something--but I trust
+there is really nothing serious--to them!”
+
+“If YOU do not speak to them, I will!” said Miss Desborough firmly. “If
+you say what I tell you, it will come the more plausibly from you. Come!
+My mind is made up. One of us must break the news! Shall it be you or
+I?” She drew her cloak over her shoulders and made a step forwards.
+
+The consul saw she was determined. “Then wait here till I return, but
+keep yourself out of sight,” he said, and hurried away. Between the
+library and the terrace he conceived a plan. His perplexity lent him a
+seriousness which befitted the gravity of the news he had to disclose.
+“I am sorry to have to tell you,” he said, taking Lord Beverdale aside,
+“that I was the unlucky bearer of some sad news to Miss Desborough this
+morning, through my consular letters--some matter concerning the death
+of a relation of hers, and some wearisome question of property. I
+thought that it was of little importance, and that she would not take
+it seriously, but I find I was mistaken. It may even oblige her to catch
+the London train to-night. I promised to make her excuses to you for the
+present, and I'm afraid I must add my own to them, as she wishes me to
+stay and advise her in this matter, which requires some prompt action.”
+
+Miss Desborough was right: the magic word “property” changed the slight
+annoyance on the earl's face to a sympathetic concern. “Dear me! I trust
+it is nothing really serious,” he said. “Of course, you will advise her,
+and, by the way, if my solicitor, Withers, who'll be here to-morrow,
+can do anything, you know, call him in. I hope she'll be able to see
+me later. It could not be a NEAR relation who died, I fancy; she has no
+brothers or sisters, I understand.”
+
+“A cousin, I think; an old friend,” said the consul hastily. He heard
+Lord Beverdale say a few words to his companions, saw with a tinge of
+remorse a cloud settle upon Lord Algernon's fresh face, as he appealed
+in a whisper to old Lady Mesthyn, who leaned forward from the carriage,
+and said, “If the dear child thought I could be of any service, I should
+only be too glad to stay with her.”
+
+“I knew she would appreciate Lady Mesthyn's sympathy,” said the
+ingenious consul quickly, “but I really think the question is more a
+business one--and”--
+
+“Ah, yes,” said the old lady, shaking her head, “it's dreadful, of
+course, but we must all think of THAT!”
+
+As the carriage drove away, the consul hurried back a little viciously
+to his fair countrywoman. “There!” he said, “I have done it! If I have
+managed to convey either the idea that you are a penniless orphan, or
+that I have official information that you are suspected of a dynamite
+conspiracy, don't blame me! And now,” he said, “as I have excused myself
+on the ground that I must devote myself to this dreadful business of
+yours, perhaps you'll tell me WHAT it really is.”
+
+“Not a word more,” said Miss Desborough; “except,” she added,--checking
+her smile with a weary gesture,--“except that I want to leave this
+dreadful place at once! There! don't ask me any more!”
+
+There could be no doubt of the girl's sincerity. Nor was it the
+extravagant caprice of a petted idol. What had happened? He might have
+believed in a lovers' quarrel, but he knew that she and Lord Algernon
+could have had no private interview that evening. He must perforce
+accept her silence, yet he could not help saying:--
+
+“You seemed to like the place so much last night. I say, you haven't
+seen the Priory ghost, have you?”
+
+“The Priory ghost,” she said quickly. “What's that?”
+
+“The old monk who passes through the cloisters with the sacred oil, the
+bell, and the smell of incense whenever any one is to die here. By Jove!
+it would have been a good story to tell instead of this cock-and-bull
+one about your property. And there WAS a death here to-day. You'd have
+added the sibyl's gifts to your other charms.”
+
+“Tell me about that old man,” she said, looking past him out of the
+window. “I was at his cottage this morning. But, no! first let us go
+out. You can take me for a walk, if you like. You see I am all ready,
+and I'm just stifling here.”
+
+They descended to the terrace together. “Where would you like to go?” he
+asked.
+
+“To the village. I may want to telegraph, you know.”
+
+They turned into the avenue, but Miss Desborough stopped.
+
+“Is there not a shorter cut across the fields,” she asked, “over there?”
+
+“There is,” said the consul.
+
+They both turned into the footpath which led to the farm and stile.
+After a pause she said, “Did you ever talk with that poor old man?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then you don't know if he really was crazy, as they think.”
+
+“No. But they may have thought an old man's forgetfulness of present
+things and his habit of communing with the past was insanity. For all
+that he was a plucky, independent old fellow, with a grim purpose that
+was certainly rational.”
+
+“I suppose in his independence he would not have taken favors from these
+people, or anybody?”
+
+“I should think not.”
+
+“Don't you think it was just horrid--their leaving him alone in the
+rain, when he might have been only in a fit?”
+
+“The doctor says he died suddenly of heart disease,” said the consul.
+“It might have happened at any moment and without warning.”
+
+“Ah, that was the coroner's verdict, then,” said Miss Desborough
+quickly.
+
+“The coroner did not think it necessary to have any inquest after Lord
+Beverdale's statement. It wouldn't have been very joyous for the Priory
+party. And I dare say he thought it might not be very cheerful for YOU.”
+
+“How very kind!” said the young girl, with a quick laugh. “But do you
+know that it's about the only thing human, original, and striking that
+has happened in this place since I've been here! And so unexpected,
+considering how comfortably everything is ordered here beforehand.”
+
+“Yet you seemed to like that kind of thing very well, last evening,”
+ said the consul mischievously.
+
+“That was last night,” retorted Miss Desborough; “and you know the line,
+'Colors seen by candlelight do not look the same by day.' But I'm going
+to be very consistent to-day, for I intend to go over to that poor man's
+cottage again, and see if I can be of any service. Will you go with me?”
+
+“Certainly,” said the consul, mystified by his companion's extraordinary
+conduct, yet apparent coolness of purpose, and hoping for some further
+explanation. Was she only an inexperienced flirt who had found herself
+on the point of a serious entanglement she had not contemplated? Yet
+even then he knew she was clever enough to extricate herself in some
+other way than this abrupt and brutal tearing through the meshes. Or was
+it possible that she really had any intelligence affecting her property?
+He reflected that he knew very little of the Desboroughs, but on the
+other hand he knew that Beverdale knew them much better, and was a
+prudent man. He had no right to demand her confidence as a reward for
+his secrecy; he must wait her pleasure. Perhaps she would still explain;
+women seldom could resist the triumph of telling the secret that puzzled
+others.
+
+When they reached the village she halted before the low roof of Debs's
+cottage. “I had better go in first,” she said; “you can come in later,
+and in the meantime you might go to the station for me and find out the
+exact time that the express train leaves for the north.”
+
+“But,” said the astonished consul, “I thought you were going to London?”
+
+“No,” said Miss Desborough quietly, “I am going to join some friends at
+Harrogate.”
+
+“But that train goes much earlier than the train south, and--and I'm
+afraid Lord Beverdale will not have returned so soon.”
+
+“How sad!” said Miss Desborough, with a faint smile, “but we must bear
+up under it, and--I'll write him. I will be here until you return.”
+
+She turned away and entered the cottage. The granddaughter she had
+already seen and her sister, the servant at the Priory, were both
+chatting comfortably, but ceased as she entered, and both rose with
+awkward respect. There was little to suggest that the body of their
+grandfather, already in a rough oak shell, was lying upon trestles
+beside them.
+
+“You have carried out my orders, I see,” said Miss Desborough, laying
+down her parasol.
+
+“Ay, miss; but it was main haard gettin' et dooan so soon, and et
+cooast”--
+
+“Never mind the cost. I've given you money enough, I think, and if I
+haven't, I guess I can give you more.”
+
+“Ay, miss! Abbut the pa'son 'ead gi' un a funeral for nowt.”
+
+“But I understood you to say,” said Miss Desborough, with an impatient
+flash of eye, “that your grandfather wished to be buried with his
+kindred in the north?”
+
+“Ay, miss,” said the girl apologetically, “an naw 'ees savit th' munny.
+Abbut e'd bean tickled 'ad 'ee knowed it! Dear! dear! 'ee niver thowt et
+'ud be gi'en by stranger an' not 'es ownt fammaly.”
+
+“For all that, you needn't tell anybody it was given by ME,” said Miss
+Desborough. “And you'll be sure to be ready to take the train this
+afternoon--without delay.” There was a certain peremptoriness in her
+voice very unlike Miss Amelyn's, yet apparently much more effective with
+the granddaughter.
+
+“Ay, miss. Then, if tha'll excoose mea, I'll go streight to 'oory oop
+sexten.”
+
+She bustled away. “Now,” said Miss Desborough, turning to the other
+girl, “I shall take the same train, and will probably see you on the
+platform at York to give my final directions. That's all. Go and see if
+the gentleman who came with me has returned from the station.”
+
+The girl obeyed. Left entirely alone, Miss Desborough glanced around
+the room, and then went quietly up to the unlidded coffin. The repose of
+death had softened the hard lines of the old man's mouth and brow into a
+resemblance she now more than ever understood. She had stood thus only
+a few years before, looking at the same face in a gorgeously inlaid
+mahogany casket, smothered amidst costly flowers, and surrounded by
+friends attired in all the luxurious trappings of woe; yet it was the
+same face that was now rigidly upturned to the bare thatch and rafters
+of that crumbling cottage, herself its only companion. She lifted her
+delicate veil with both hands, and, stooping down, kissed the hard, cold
+forehead, without a tremor. Then she dropped her veil again over her dry
+eyes, readjusted it in the little, cheap, black-framed mirror that hung
+against the wall, and opened the door as the granddaughter returned. The
+gentleman was just coming from the station.
+
+“Remember to look out for me at York,” said Miss Desborough, extending
+her gloved hand. “Good-by till then.” The young girl respectfully
+touched the ends of Miss Desborough's fingers, dropped a curtsy, and
+Miss Desborough rejoined the consul.
+
+“You have barely time to return to the Priory and see to your luggage,”
+ said the consul, “if you must go. But let me hope that you have changed
+your mind.”
+
+“I have not changed my mind,” said Miss Desborough quietly, “and my
+baggage is already packed.” After a pause, she said thoughtfully, “I've
+been wondering”--
+
+“What?” said the consul eagerly.
+
+“I've been wondering if people brought up to speak in a certain dialect,
+where certain words have their own significance and color, and are part
+of their own lives and experience--if, even when they understand another
+dialect, they really feel any sympathy with it, or the person who speaks
+it?”
+
+“Apropos of”--asked the consul.
+
+“These people I've just left! I don't think I quite felt with them, and
+I guess they didn't feel with me.”
+
+“But,” said the consul laughingly, “you know that we Americans speak
+with a decided dialect of our own, and attach the same occult meaning to
+it. Yet, upon my word, I think that Lord Beverdale--or shall I say Lord
+Algernon?--would not only understand that American word 'guess' as you
+mean it, but would perfectly sympathize with you.”
+
+Miss Desborough's eyes sparkled even through her veil as she glanced at
+her companion and said, “I GUESS NOT.”
+
+As the “tea” party had not yet returned, it fell to the consul to
+accompany Miss Desborough and her maid to the station. But here he was
+startled to find a collection of villagers upon the platform, gathered
+round two young women in mourning, and an ominous-looking box.
+He mingled for a moment with the crowd, and then returned to Miss
+Desborough's side.
+
+“Really,” he said, with a concern that was scarcely assumed, “I ought
+not to let you go. The omens are most disastrous! You came here to a
+death; you are going away with a funeral!”
+
+“Then it's high time I took myself off!” said the lady lightly.
+
+“Unless, like the ghostly monk, you came here on a mission, and have
+fulfilled it.”
+
+“Perhaps I have. Good-by!”
+
+*****
+
+In spite of the bright and characteristic letter which Miss Desborough
+left for her host,--a letter which mingled her peculiar shrewd sense
+with her humorous extravagance of expression,--the consul spent a
+somewhat uneasy evening under the fire of questions that assailed him
+in reference to the fair deserter. But he kept loyal faith with her,
+adhering even to the letter of her instructions, and only once was
+goaded into more active mendacity. The conversation had turned upon
+“Debs,” and the consul had remarked on the singularity of the name. A
+guest from the north observed, however, that the name was undoubtedly a
+contraction. “Possibly it might have been 'Debborough,' or even the same
+name as our fair friend.”
+
+“But didn't Miss Desborough tell you last night that she had been
+hunting up her people, with a family tree, or something like that?” said
+Lord Algernon eagerly. “I just caught a word here and there, for you
+were both laughing.”
+
+The consul smiled blandly. “You may well say so, for it was all the most
+delightful piece of pure invention and utter extravagance. It would have
+amused her still more if she had thought you were listening and took it
+seriously!”
+
+“Of course; I see!” said the young fellow, with a laugh and a slight
+rise of color. “I knew she was taking some kind of a rise out of YOU,
+and that remark reminded me of it.”
+
+Nevertheless, within a year, Lord Algernon was happily married to the
+daughter of a South African millionaire, whose bridal offerings alone
+touched the sum of half a million. It was also said that the mother
+was “impossible” and the father “unspeakable,” the relations
+“inextinguishable;” but the wedding was an “occasion,” and in the
+succeeding year of festivity it is presumed that the names of “Debs” and
+“Desborough” were alike forgotten.
+
+But they existed still in a little hamlet near the edge of a bleak
+northern moor, where they were singularly exalted on a soaring shaft of
+pure marble above the submerged and moss-grown tombstones of a simple
+country churchyard. So great was the contrast between the modern and
+pretentious monument and the graves of the humbler forefathers of the
+village, that even the Americans who chanced to visit it were shocked at
+what they believed was the ostentatious and vulgar pride of one of their
+own countrywomen. For on its pedestal was inscribed:--
+
+                       Sacred to the Memory
+                               of
+                       JOHN DEBS DESBOROUGH,
+                     Formerly of this parish,
+             Who departed this life October 20th, 1892,
+                        At Scrooby Priory,
+                   At the age of eighty-two years.
+           This monument was erected as a loving testimony
+                       by his granddaughter,
+               Sadie Desborough, of New York, U. S. A.
+
+                   “And evening brings us home.”
+
+
+
+
+SALOMY JANE'S KISS
+
+
+Only one shot had been fired. It had gone wide of its mark,--the
+ringleader of the Vigilantes,--and had left Red Pete, who had fired
+it, covered by their rifles and at their mercy. For his hand had been
+cramped by hard riding, and his eye distracted by their sudden onset,
+and so the inevitable end had come. He submitted sullenly to his
+captors; his companion fugitive and horse-thief gave up the protracted
+struggle with a feeling not unlike relief. Even the hot and revengeful
+victors were content. They had taken their men alive. At any time during
+the long chase they could have brought them down by a rifle shot, but it
+would have been unsportsmanlike, and have ended in a free fight, instead
+of an example. And, for the matter of that, their doom was already
+sealed. Their end, by a rope and a tree, although not sanctified by law,
+would have at least the deliberation of justice. It was the tribute paid
+by the Vigilantes to that order which they had themselves disregarded in
+the pursuit and capture. Yet this strange logic of the frontier sufficed
+them, and gave a certain dignity to the climax.
+
+“Ef you've got anything to say to your folks, say it NOW, and say it
+quick,” said the ringleader.
+
+Red Pete glanced around him. He had been run to earth at his own cabin
+in the clearing, whence a few relations and friends, mostly women and
+children, non-combatants, had outflowed, gazing vacantly at the twenty
+Vigilantes who surrounded them. All were accustomed to scenes of
+violence, blood-feud, chase, and hardship; it was only the suddenness of
+the onset and its quick result that had surprised them. They looked on
+with dazed curiosity and some disappointment; there had been no fight
+to speak of--no spectacle! A boy, nephew of Red Pete, got upon the
+rain-barrel to view the proceedings more comfortably; a tall, handsome,
+lazy Kentucky girl, a visiting neighbor, leaned against the doorpost,
+chewing gum. Only a yellow hound was actively perplexed. He could
+not make out if a hunt were just over or beginning, and ran eagerly
+backwards and forwards, leaping alternately upon the captives and the
+captors.
+
+The ringleader repeated his challenge. Red Pete gave a reckless laugh
+and looked at his wife.
+
+At which Mrs. Red Pete came forward. It seemed that she had much to say,
+incoherently, furiously, vindictively, to the ringleader. His soul would
+roast in hell for that day's work! He called himself a man, skunkin'
+in the open and afraid to show himself except with a crowd of other
+“Kiyi's” around a house of women and children. Heaping insult upon
+insult, inveighing against his low blood, his ancestors, his dubious
+origin, she at last flung out a wild taunt of his invalid wife, the
+insult of a woman to a woman, until his white face grew rigid, and only
+that Western-American fetich of the sanctity of sex kept his twitching
+fingers from the lock of his rifle. Even her husband noticed it, and
+with a half-authoritative “Let up on that, old gal,” and a pat of his
+freed left hand on her back, took his last parting. The ringleader,
+still white under the lash of the woman's tongue, turned abruptly to the
+second captive. “And if YOU'VE got anybody to say 'good-by' to, now's
+your chance.”
+
+The man looked up. Nobody stirred or spoke. He was a stranger there,
+being a chance confederate picked up by Red Pete, and known to no one.
+Still young, but an outlaw from his abandoned boyhood, of which father
+and mother were only a forgotten dream, he loved horses and stole them,
+fully accepting the frontier penalty of life for the interference with
+that animal on which a man's life so often depended. But he understood
+the good points of a horse, as was shown by the ones he bestrode--until
+a few days before the property of Judge Boompointer. This was his sole
+distinction.
+
+The unexpected question stirred him for a moment out of the attitude
+of reckless indifference, for attitude it was, and a part of his
+profession. But it may have touched him that at that moment he was less
+than his companion and his virago wife. However, he only shook his head.
+As he did so his eye casually fell on the handsome girl by the doorpost,
+who was looking at him. The ringleader, too, may have been touched by
+his complete loneliness, for HE hesitated. At the same moment he saw
+that the girl was looking at his friendless captive.
+
+A grotesque idea struck him.
+
+“Salomy Jane, ye might do worse than come yere and say 'good-by' to a
+dying man, and him a stranger,” he said.
+
+There seemed to be a subtle stroke of poetry and irony in this that
+equally struck the apathetic crowd. It was well known that Salomy Jane
+Clay thought no small potatoes of herself, and always held off the local
+swain with a lazy nymph-like scorn. Nevertheless, she slowly disengaged
+herself from the doorpost, and, to everybody's astonishment, lounged
+with languid grace and outstretched hand towards the prisoner. The color
+came into the gray reckless mask which the doomed man wore as her right
+hand grasped his left, just loosed by his captors. Then she paused; her
+shy, fawn-like eyes grew bold, and fixed themselves upon him. She took
+the chewing-gum from her mouth, wiped her red lips with the back of
+her hand, by a sudden lithe spring placed her foot on his stirrup, and,
+bounding to the saddle, threw her arms about his neck and pressed a kiss
+upon his lips.
+
+They remained thus for a hushed moment--the man on the threshold of
+death, the young woman in the fullness of youth and beauty--linked
+together. Then the crowd laughed; in the audacious effrontery of the
+girl's act the ultimate fate of the two men was forgotten. She slipped
+languidly to the ground; SHE was the focus of all eyes,--she only! The
+ringleader saw it and his opportunity. He shouted: “Time's up--Forward!”
+ urged his horse beside his captives, and the next moment the whole
+cavalcade was sweeping over the clearing into the darkening woods.
+
+Their destination was Sawyer's Crossing, the headquarters of the
+committee, where the council was still sitting, and where both culprits
+were to expiate the offense of which that council had already found
+them guilty. They rode in great and breathless haste,--a haste in which,
+strangely enough, even the captives seemed to join. That haste possibly
+prevented them from noticing the singular change which had taken place
+in the second captive since the episode of the kiss. His high color
+remained, as if it had burned through his mask of indifference; his eyes
+were quick, alert, and keen, his mouth half open as if the girl's kiss
+still lingered there. And that haste had made them careless, for the
+horse of the man who led him slipped in a gopher-hole, rolled over,
+unseated his rider, and even dragged the bound and helpless second
+captive from Judge Boompointer's favorite mare. In an instant they were
+all on their feet again, but in that supreme moment the second captive
+felt the cords which bound his arms had slipped to his wrists. By
+keeping his elbows to his sides, and obliging the others to help him
+mount, it escaped their notice. By riding close to his captors, and
+keeping in the crush of the throng, he further concealed the accident,
+slowly working his hands downwards out of his bonds.
+
+Their way lay through a sylvan wilderness, mid-leg deep in ferns, whose
+tall fronds brushed their horses' sides in their furious gallop and
+concealed the flapping of the captive's loosened cords. The peaceful
+vista, more suggestive of the offerings of nymph and shepherd than of
+human sacrifice, was in a strange contrast to this whirlwind rush of
+stern, armed men. The westering sun pierced the subdued light and the
+tremor of leaves with yellow lances; birds started into song on blue and
+dove-like wings, and on either side of the trail of this vengeful
+storm could be heard the murmur of hidden and tranquil waters. In a
+few moments they would be on the open ridge, whence sloped the common
+turnpike to “Sawyer's,” a mile away. It was the custom of returning
+cavalcades to take this hill at headlong speed, with shouts and cries
+that heralded their coming. They withheld the latter that day, as
+inconsistent with their dignity; but, emerging from the wood, swept
+silently like an avalanche down the slope. They were well under way,
+looking only to their horses, when the second captive slipped his right
+arm from the bonds and succeeded in grasping the reins that lay trailing
+on the horse's neck. A sudden vaquero jerk, which the well-trained
+animal understood, threw him on his haunches with his forelegs firmly
+planted on the slope. The rest of the cavalcade swept on; the man who
+was leading the captive's horse by the riata, thinking only of another
+accident, dropped the line to save himself from being dragged backwards
+from his horse. The captive wheeled, and the next moment was galloping
+furiously up the slope.
+
+It was the work of a moment; a trained horse and an experienced hand.
+The cavalcade had covered nearly fifty yards before they could pull up;
+the freed captive had covered half that distance uphill. The road was
+so narrow that only two shots could be fired, and these broke dust two
+yards ahead of the fugitive. They had not dared to fire low; the horse
+was the more valuable animal. The fugitive knew this in his extremity
+also, and would have gladly taken a shot in his own leg to spare that of
+his horse. Five men were detached to recapture or kill him. The latter
+seemed inevitable. But he had calculated his chances; before they could
+reload he had reached the woods again; winding in and out between
+the pillared tree trunks, he offered no mark. They knew his horse was
+superior to their own; at the end of two hours they returned, for he
+had disappeared without track or trail. The end was briefly told in the
+“Sierra Record:”--
+
+“Red Pete, the notorious horse-thief, who had so long eluded justice,
+was captured and hung by the Sawyer's Crossing Vigilantes last week;
+his confederate, unfortunately, escaped on a valuable horse belonging
+to Judge Boompointer. The judge had refused one thousand dollars for
+the horse only a week before. As the thief, who is still at large, would
+find it difficult to dispose of so valuable an animal without detection,
+the chances are against either of them turning up again.”
+
+*****
+
+Salomy Jane watched the cavalcade until it had disappeared. Then she
+became aware that her brief popularity had passed. Mrs. Red Pete, in
+stormy hysterics, had included her in a sweeping denunciation of the
+whole universe, possibly for simulating an emotion in which she herself
+was deficient. The other women hated her for her momentary exaltation
+above them; only the children still admired her as one who had
+undoubtedly “canoodled” with a man “a-going to be hung”--a daring flight
+beyond their wildest ambition. Salomy Jane accepted the change with
+charming unconcern. She put on her yellow nankeen sunbonnet,--a hideous
+affair that would have ruined any other woman, but which only enhanced
+the piquancy of her fresh brunette skin,--tied the strings, letting the
+blue-black braids escape below its frilled curtain behind, jumped on
+her mustang with a casual display of agile ankles in shapely white
+stockings, whistled to the hound, and waving her hand with a “So long,
+sonny!” to the lately bereft but admiring nephew, flapped and fluttered
+away in her short brown holland gown.
+
+Her father's house was four miles distant. Contrasted with the cabin she
+had just quitted, it was a superior dwelling, with a long “lean-to” at
+the rear, which brought the eaves almost to the ground and made it look
+like a low triangle. It had a long barn and cattle sheds, for Madison
+Clay was a “great” stock-raiser and the owner of a “quarter section.” It
+had a sitting-room and a parlor organ, whose transportation thither had
+been a marvel of “packing.” These things were supposed to give Salomy
+Jane an undue importance, but the girl's reserve and inaccessibility to
+local advances were rather the result of a cool, lazy temperament and
+the preoccupation of a large, protecting admiration for her father, for
+some years a widower. For Mr. Madison Clay's life had been threatened in
+one or two feuds,--it was said, not without cause,--and it is possible
+that the pathetic spectacle of her father doing his visiting with a
+shotgun may have touched her closely and somewhat prejudiced her against
+the neighboring masculinity. The thought that cattle, horses, and
+“quarter section” would one day be hers did not disturb her calm. As for
+Mr. Clay, he accepted her as housewifely, though somewhat “interfering,”
+ and, being one of “his own womankind,” therefore not without some degree
+of merit.
+
+“Wot's this yer I'm hearin' of your doin's over at Red Pete's?
+Honeyfoglin' with a horse-thief, eh?” said Mr. Clay two days later at
+breakfast.
+
+“I reckon you heard about the straight thing, then,” said Salomy Jane
+unconcernedly, without looking round.
+
+“What do you kalkilate Rube will say to it? What are you goin' to tell
+HIM?” said Mr. Clay sarcastically.
+
+“Rube,” or Reuben Waters, was a swain supposed to be favored
+particularly by Mr. Clay. Salomy Jane looked up.
+
+“I'll tell him that when HE'S on his way to be hung, I'll kiss him,--not
+till then,” said the young lady brightly.
+
+This delightful witticism suited the paternal humor, and Mr. Clay
+smiled; but, nevertheless, he frowned a moment afterwards.
+
+“But this yer hoss-thief got away arter all, and that's a hoss of a
+different color,” he said grimly.
+
+Salomy Jane put down her knife and fork. This was certainly a new and
+different phase of the situation. She had never thought of it before,
+and, strangely enough, for the first time she became interested in the
+man. “Got away?” she repeated. “Did they let him off?”
+
+“Not much,” said her father briefly. “Slipped his cords, and going down
+the grade pulled up short, just like a vaquero agin a lassoed bull,
+almost draggin' the man leadin' him off his hoss, and then skyuted up
+the grade. For that matter, on that hoss o' Judge Boompointer's he mout
+have dragged the whole posse of 'em down on their knees ef he liked!
+Sarved 'em right, too. Instead of stringin' him up afore the door, or
+shootin' him on sight, they must allow to take him down afore the hull
+committee 'for an example.' 'Example' be blowed! Ther' 's example enough
+when some stranger comes unbeknownst slap onter a man hanged to a tree
+and plugged full of holes. THAT'S an example, and HE knows what it
+means. Wot more do ye want? But then those Vigilantes is allus clingin'
+and hangin' onter some mere scrap o' the law they're pretendin' to
+despise. It makes me sick! Why, when Jake Myers shot your ole Aunt
+Viney's second husband, and I laid in wait for Jake afterwards in the
+Butternut Hollow, did I tie him to his hoss and fetch him down to your
+Aunt Viney's cabin 'for an example' before I plugged him? No!” in deep
+disgust. “No! Why, I just meandered through the wood, careless-like,
+till he comes out, and I just rode up to him, and I said”--
+
+But Salomy Jane had heard her father's story before. Even one's dearest
+relatives are apt to become tiresome in narration. “I know, dad,” she
+interrupted; “but this yer man,--this hoss-thief,--did HE get clean away
+without gettin' hurt at all?”
+
+“He did, and unless he's fool enough to sell the hoss he kin keep away,
+too. So ye see, ye can't ladle out purp stuff about a 'dyin' stranger'
+to Rube. He won't swaller it.”
+
+“All the same, dad,” returned the girl cheerfully, “I reckon to say it,
+and say MORE; I'll tell him that ef HE manages to get away too, I'll
+marry him--there! But ye don't ketch Rube takin' any such risks in
+gettin' ketched, or in gettin' away arter!”
+
+Madison Clay smiled grimly, pushed back his chair, rose, dropped a
+perfunctory kiss on his daughter's hair, and, taking his shotgun from
+the corner, departed on a peaceful Samaritan mission to a cow who had
+dropped a calf in the far pasture. Inclined as he was to Reuben's wooing
+from his eligibility as to property, he was conscious that he was sadly
+deficient in certain qualities inherent in the Clay family. It certainly
+would be a kind of mesalliance.
+
+Left to herself, Salomy Jane stared a long while at the coffee-pot, and
+then called the two squaws who assisted her in her household duties, to
+clear away the things while she went up to her own room to make her bed.
+Here she was confronted with a possible prospect of that proverbial bed
+she might be making in her willfulness, and on which she must lie,
+in the photograph of a somewhat serious young man of refined
+features--Reuben Waters--stuck in her window-frame. Salomy Jane smiled
+over her last witticism regarding him and enjoyed, it, like your true
+humorist, and then, catching sight of her own handsome face in the
+little mirror, smiled again. But wasn't it funny about that horse-thief
+getting off after all? Good Lordy! Fancy Reuben hearing he was alive and
+going round with that kiss of hers set on his lips! She laughed again, a
+little more abstractedly. And he had returned it like a man, holding her
+tight and almost breathless, and he going to be hung the next minute!
+Salomy Jane had been kissed at other times, by force, chance, or
+stratagem. In a certain ingenuous forfeit game of the locality known as
+“I'm a-pinin',” many had “pined” for a “sweet kiss” from Salomy Jane,
+which she had yielded in a sense of honor and fair play. She had never
+been kissed like this before--she would never again; and yet the man was
+alive! And behold, she could see in the mirror that she was blushing!
+
+She should hardly know him again. A young man with very bright eyes,
+a flushed and sunburnt cheek, a kind of fixed look in the face, and no
+beard; no, none that she could feel. Yet he was not at all like Reuben,
+not a bit. She took Reuben's picture from the window, and laid it on her
+workbox. And to think she did not even know this young man's name! That
+was queer. To be kissed by a man whom she might never know! Of course
+he knew hers. She wondered if he remembered it and her. But of course he
+was so glad to get off with his life that he never thought of anything
+else. Yet she did not give more than four or five minutes to these
+speculations, and, like a sensible girl, thought of something else. Once
+again, however, in opening the closet, she found the brown holland
+gown she had worn on the day before; thought it very unbecoming, and
+regretted that she had not worn her best gown on her visit to Red Pete's
+cottage. On such an occasion she really might have been more impressive.
+
+When her father came home that night she asked him the news. No, they
+had NOT captured the second horse-thief, who was still at large. Judge
+Boompointer talked of invoking the aid of the despised law. It remained,
+then, to see whether the horse-thief was fool enough to try to get rid
+of the animal. Red Pete's body had been delivered to his widow. Perhaps
+it would only be neighborly for Salomy Jane to ride over to the funeral.
+But Salomy Jane did not take to the suggestion kindly, nor yet did she
+explain to her father that, as the other man was still living, she
+did not care to undergo a second disciplining at the widow's hands.
+Nevertheless, she contrasted her situation with that of the widow with
+a new and singular satisfaction. It might have been Red Pete who had
+escaped. But he had not the grit of the nameless one. She had already
+settled his heroic quality.
+
+“Ye ain't harkenin' to me, Salomy.”
+
+Salomy Jane started.
+
+“Here I'm askin' ye if ye've see that hound Phil Larrabee sneaking by
+yer today?”
+
+Salomy Jane had not. But she became interested and self-reproachful,
+for she knew that Phil Larrabee was one of her father's enemies. “He
+wouldn't dare to go by here unless he knew you were out,” she said
+quickly.
+
+“That's what gets me,” he said, scratching his grizzled head. “I've been
+kind o' thinkin' o' him all day, and one of them Chinamen said he saw
+him at Sawyer's Crossing. He was a kind of friend o' Pete's wife. That's
+why I thought yer might find out ef he'd been there.” Salomy Jane
+grew more self-reproachful at her father's self-interest in her
+“neighborliness.” “But that ain't all,” continued Mr. Clay. “Thar was
+tracks over the far pasture that warn't mine. I followed them, and they
+went round and round the house two or three times, ez ef they mout hev
+bin prowlin', and then I lost 'em in the woods again. It's just like
+that sneakin' hound Larrabee to hev bin lyin' in wait for me and afraid
+to meet a man fair and square in the open.”
+
+“You just lie low, dad, for a day or two more, and let me do a little
+prowlin',” said the girl, with sympathetic indignation in her dark eyes.
+“Ef it's that skunk, I'll spot him soon enough and let you know whar
+he's hiding.”
+
+“You'll just stay where ye are, Salomy,” said her father decisively.
+“This ain't no woman's work--though I ain't sayin' you haven't got more
+head for it than some men I know.”
+
+Nevertheless, that night, after her father had gone to bed, Salomy Jane
+sat by the open window of the sitting-room in an apparent attitude of
+languid contemplation, but alert and intent of eye and ear. It was a
+fine moonlit night. Two pines near the door, solitary pickets of the
+serried ranks of distant forest, cast long shadows like paths to the
+cottage, and sighed their spiced breath in the windows. For there was no
+frivolity of vine or flower round Salomy Jane's bower. The clearing was
+too recent, the life too practical for vanities like these. But the moon
+added a vague elusiveness to everything, softened the rigid outlines
+of the sheds, gave shadows to the lidless windows, and touched with
+merciful indirectness the hideous debris of refuse gravel and the gaunt
+scars of burnt vegetation before the door. Even Salomy Jane was affected
+by it, and exhaled something between a sigh and a yawn with the breath
+of the pines. Then she suddenly sat upright.
+
+Her quick ear had caught a faint “click, click,” in the direction of the
+wood; her quicker instinct and rustic training enabled her to determine
+that it was the ring of a horse's shoe on flinty ground; her knowledge
+of the locality told her it came from the spot where the trail passed
+over an outcrop of flint scarcely a quarter of a mile from where she
+sat, and within the clearing. It was no errant “stock,” for the foot was
+shod with iron; it was a mounted trespasser by night, and boded no good
+to a man like Clay.
+
+She rose, threw her shawl over her head, more for disguise than shelter,
+and passed out of the door. A sudden impulse made her seize her father's
+shotgun from the corner where it stood,--not that she feared any danger
+to herself, but that it was an excuse. She made directly for the wood,
+keeping in the shadow of the pines as long as she could. At the fringe
+she halted; whoever was there must pass her before reaching the house.
+
+Then there seemed to be a suspense of all nature. Everything was deadly
+still--even the moonbeams appeared no longer tremulous; soon there was a
+rustle as of some stealthy animal among the ferns, and then a dismounted
+man stepped into the moonlight. It was the horse-thief--the man she had
+kissed!
+
+For a wild moment a strange fancy seized her usually sane intellect and
+stirred her temperate blood. The news they had told her was NOT true;
+he had been hung, and this was his ghost! He looked as white and
+spirit-like in the moonlight, dressed in the same clothes, as when she
+saw him last. He had evidently seen her approaching, and moved quickly
+to meet her. But in his haste he stumbled slightly; she reflected
+suddenly that ghosts did not stumble, and a feeling of relief came
+over her. And it was no assassin of her father that had been prowling
+around--only this unhappy fugitive. A momentary color came into her
+cheek; her coolness and hardihood returned; it was with a tinge of
+sauciness in her voice that she said:--
+
+“I reckoned you were a ghost.”
+
+“I mout have been,” he said, looking at her fixedly; “but I reckon I'd
+have come back here all the same.”
+
+“It's a little riskier comin' back alive,” she said, with a levity
+that died on her lips, for a singular nervousness, half fear and half
+expectation, was beginning to take the place of her relief of a moment
+ago. “Then it was YOU who was prowlin' round and makin' tracks in the
+far pasture?”
+
+“Yes; I came straight here when I got away.”
+
+She felt his eyes were burning her, but did not dare to raise her own.
+“Why,” she began, hesitated, and ended vaguely. “HOW did you get here?”
+
+“You helped me!”
+
+“I?”
+
+“Yes. That kiss you gave me put life into me--gave me strength to get
+away. I swore to myself I'd come back and thank you, alive or dead.”
+
+Every word he said she could have anticipated, so plain the situation
+seemed to her now. And every word he said she knew was the truth. Yet
+her cool common sense struggled against it.
+
+“What's the use of your escaping, ef you're comin' back here to be
+ketched again?” she said pertly.
+
+He drew a little nearer to her, but seemed to her the more awkward as
+she resumed her self-possession. His voice, too, was broken, as if by
+exhaustion, as he said, catching his breath at intervals:--
+
+“I'll tell you. You did more for me than you think. You made another man
+o' me. I never had a man, woman, or child do to me what you did. I never
+had a friend--only a pal like Red Pete, who picked me up 'on shares.'
+I want to quit this yer--what I'm doin'. I want to begin by doin' the
+square thing to you”--He stopped, breathed hard, and then said brokenly,
+“My hoss is over thar, staked out. I want to give him to you. Judge
+Boompointer will give you a thousand dollars for him. I ain't lyin';
+it's God's truth! I saw it on the handbill agin a tree. Take him, and
+I'll get away afoot. Take him. It's the only thing I can do for you, and
+I know it don't half pay for what you did. Take it; your father can get
+a reward for you, if you can't.”
+
+Such were the ethics of this strange locality that neither the man who
+made the offer nor the girl to whom it was made was struck by anything
+that seemed illogical or indelicate, or at all inconsistent with
+justice or the horse-thief's real conversion. Salomy Jane nevertheless
+dissented, from another and weaker reason.
+
+“I don't want your hoss, though I reckon dad might; but you're just
+starvin'. I'll get suthin'.” She turned towards the house.
+
+“Say you'll take the hoss first,” he said, grasping her hand. At the
+touch she felt herself coloring and struggled, expecting perhaps another
+kiss. But he dropped her hand. She turned again with a saucy gesture,
+said, “Hol' on; I'll come right back,” and slipped away, the mere shadow
+of a coy and flying nymph in the moonlight, until she reached the house.
+
+Here she not only procured food and whiskey, but added a long dust-coat
+and hat of her father's to her burden. They would serve as a disguise
+for him and hide that heroic figure, which she thought everybody must
+now know as she did. Then she rejoined him breathlessly. But he put the
+food and whiskey aside.
+
+“Listen,” he said; “I've turned the hoss into your corral. You'll find
+him there in the morning, and no one will know but that he got lost and
+joined the other hosses.”
+
+Then she burst out. “But you--YOU--what will become of you? You'll be
+ketched!”
+
+“I'll manage to get away,” he said in a low voice, “ef--ef”--
+
+“Ef what?” she said tremblingly. “Ef you'll put the heart in me
+again,--as you did!” he gasped.
+
+She tried to laugh--to move away. She could do neither. Suddenly he
+caught her in his arms, with a long kiss, which she returned again and
+again. Then they stood embraced as they had embraced two days before,
+but no longer the same. For the cool, lazy Salomy Jane had been
+transformed into another woman--a passionate, clinging savage. Perhaps
+something of her father's blood had surged within her at that supreme
+moment. The man stood erect and determined.
+
+“Wot's your name?” she whispered quickly. It was a woman's quickest way
+of defining her feelings.
+
+“Dart.”
+
+“Yer first name?”
+
+“Jack.”
+
+“Let me go now, Jack. Lie low in the woods till to-morrow sunup. I'll
+come again.”
+
+He released her. Yet she lingered a moment. “Put on those things,” she
+said, with a sudden happy flash of eyes and teeth, “and lie close till I
+come.” And then she sped away home.
+
+But midway up the distance she felt her feet going slower, and something
+at her heartstrings seemed to be pulling her back. She stopped, turned,
+and glanced to where he had been standing. Had she seen him then, she
+might have returned. But he had disappeared. She gave her first sigh,
+and then ran quickly again. It must be nearly ten o'clock! It was not
+very long to morning!
+
+She was within a few steps of her own door, when the sleeping woods and
+silent air appeared to suddenly awake with a sharp “crack!”
+
+She stopped, paralyzed. Another “crack!” followed, that echoed over to
+the far corral. She recalled herself instantly and dashed off wildly to
+the woods again.
+
+As she ran she thought of one thing only. He had been “dogged” by one
+of his old pursuers and attacked. But there were two shots, and he was
+unarmed. Suddenly she remembered that she had left her father's gun
+standing against the tree where they were talking. Thank God! she may
+again have saved him. She ran to the tree; the gun was gone. She ran
+hither and thither, dreading at every step to fall upon his lifeless
+body. A new thought struck her; she ran to the corral. The horse was not
+there! He must have been able to regain it, and escaped, AFTER the shots
+had been fired. She drew a long breath of relief, but it was caught up
+in an apprehension of alarm. Her father, awakened from his sleep by the
+shots, was hurriedly approaching her.
+
+“What's up now, Salomy Jane?” he demanded excitedly.
+
+“Nothin',” said the girl with an effort. “Nothin', at least, that I can
+find.” She was usually truthful because fearless, and a lie stuck in her
+throat; but she was no longer fearless, thinking of HIM. “I wasn't abed;
+so I ran out as soon as I heard the shots fired,” she answered in return
+to his curious gaze.
+
+“And you've hid my gun somewhere where it can't be found,” he said
+reproachfully. “Ef it was that sneak Larrabee, and he fired them shots
+to lure me out, he might have potted me, without a show, a dozen times
+in the last five minutes.”
+
+She had not thought since of her father's enemy! It might indeed
+have been he who had attacked Jack. But she made a quick point of the
+suggestion. “Run in, dad, run in and find the gun; you've got no show
+out here without it.” She seized him by the shoulders from behind,
+shielding him from the woods, and hurried him, half expostulating, half
+struggling, to the house.
+
+But there no gun was to be found. It was strange; it must have been
+mislaid in some corner! Was he sure he had not left it in the barn? But
+no matter now. The danger was over; the Larrabee trick had failed;
+he must go to bed now, and in the morning they would make a search
+together. At the same time she had inwardly resolved to rise before him
+and make another search of the wood, and perhaps--fearful joy as she
+recalled her promise!--find Jack alive and well, awaiting her!
+
+Salomy Jane slept little that night, nor did her father. But towards
+morning he fell into a tired man's slumber until the sun was well up the
+horizon. Far different was it with his daughter: she lay with her face
+to the window, her head half lifted to catch every sound, from the
+creaking of the sun-warped shingles above her head to the far-off
+moan of the rising wind in the pine trees. Sometimes she fell into a
+breathless, half-ecstatic trance, living over every moment of the stolen
+interview; feeling the fugitive's arm still around her, his kisses on
+her lips; hearing his whispered voice in her ears--the birth of her new
+life! This was followed again by a period of agonizing dread--that he
+might even then be lying, his life ebbing away, in the woods, with her
+name on his lips, and she resting here inactive, until she half started
+from her bed to go to his succor. And this went on until a pale opal
+glow came into the sky, followed by a still paler pink on the summit of
+the white Sierras, when she rose and hurriedly began to dress. Still so
+sanguine was her hope of meeting him, that she lingered yet a moment to
+select the brown holland skirt and yellow sunbonnet she had worn when
+she first saw him. And she had only seen him twice! Only TWICE! It would
+be cruel, too cruel, not to see him again!
+
+She crept softly down the stairs, listening to the long-drawn breathing
+of her father in his bedroom, and then, by the light of a guttering
+candle, scrawled a note to him, begging him not to trust himself out of
+the house until she returned from her search, and leaving the note open
+on the table, swiftly ran out into the growing day.
+
+Three hours afterwards Mr. Madison Clay awoke to the sound of loud
+knocking. At first this forced itself upon his consciousness as his
+daughter's regular morning summons, and was responded to by a grunt of
+recognition and a nestling closer in the blankets. Then he awoke with a
+start and a muttered oath, remembering the events of last night, and his
+intention to get up early, and rolled out of bed. Becoming aware by this
+time that the knocking was at the outer door, and hearing the shout of
+a familiar voice, he hastily pulled on his boots, his jean trousers,
+and fastening a single suspender over his shoulder as he clattered
+downstairs, stood in the lower room. The door was open, and waiting
+upon the threshold was his kinsman, an old ally in many a
+blood-feud--Breckenridge Clay!
+
+“You ARE a cool one, Mad!” said the latter in half-admiring indignation.
+
+“What's up?” said the bewildered Madison.
+
+“YOU ought to be, and scootin' out o' this,” said Breckenridge grimly.
+“It's all very well to 'know nothin';' but here Phil Larrabee's friends
+hev just picked him up, drilled through with slugs and deader nor a
+crow, and now they're lettin' loose Larrabee's two half-brothers on you.
+And you must go like a derned fool and leave these yer things behind you
+in the bresh,” he went on querulously, lifting Madison Clay's dust-coat,
+hat, and shotgun from his horse, which stood saddled at the door.
+“Luckily I picked them up in the woods comin' here. Ye ain't got more
+than time to get over the state line and among your folks thar afore
+they'll be down on you. Hustle, old man! What are you gawkin' and
+starin' at?”
+
+Madison Clay had stared amazed and bewildered--horror-stricken.
+The incidents of the past night for the first time flashed upon him
+clearly--hopelessly! The shot; his finding Salomy Jane alone in
+the woods; her confusion and anxiety to rid herself of him; the
+disappearance of the shotgun; and now this new discovery of the taking
+of his hat and coat for a disguise! SHE had killed Phil Larrabee in that
+disguise, after provoking his first harmless shot! She, his own child,
+Salomy Jane, had disgraced herself by a man's crime; had disgraced him
+by usurping his right, and taking a mean advantage, by deceit, of a foe!
+
+“Gimme that gun,” he said hoarsely.
+
+Breckenridge handed him the gun in wonder and slowly gathering
+suspicion. Madison examined nipple and muzzle; one barrel had been
+discharged. It was true! The gun dropped from his hand.
+
+“Look here, old man,” said Breckenridge, with a darkening face, “there's
+bin no foul play here. Thar's bin no hiring of men, no deputy to do this
+job. YOU did it fair and square--yourself?”
+
+“Yes, by God!” burst out Madison Clay in a hoarse voice. “Who says I
+didn't?”
+
+Reassured, yet believing that Madison Clay had nerved himself for
+the act by an over-draught of whiskey, which had affected his memory,
+Breckenridge said curtly, “Then wake up and 'lite' out, ef ye want me to
+stand by you.”
+
+“Go to the corral and pick me out a hoss,” said Madison slowly, yet not
+without a certain dignity of manner. “I've suthin' to say to Salomy
+Jane afore I go.” He was holding her scribbled note, which he had just
+discovered, in his shaking hand.
+
+Struck by his kinsman's manner, and knowing the dependent relations
+of father and daughter, Breckenridge nodded and hurried away. Left to
+himself, Madison Clay ran his fingers through his hair, and straightened
+out the paper on which Salomy Jane had scrawled her note, turned it
+over, and wrote on the back:--
+
+
+You might have told me you did it, and not leave your ole father to
+find it out how you disgraced yourself and him, too, by a low-down,
+underhanded, woman's trick! I've said I done it, and took the blame
+myself, and all the sneakiness of it that folks suspect. If I get away
+alive--and I don't care much which--you needn't foller. The house and
+stock are yours; but you ain't any longer the daughter of your disgraced
+father,
+
+MADISON CLAY.
+
+
+He had scarcely finished the note when, with a clatter of hoofs and a
+led horse, Breckenridge reappeared at the door elate and triumphant.
+“You're in nigger luck, Mad! I found that stole hoss of Judge
+Boompointer's had got away and strayed among your stock in the corral.
+Take him and you're safe; he can't be outrun this side of the state
+line.”
+
+“I ain't no hoss-thief,” said Madison grimly.
+
+“Nobody sez ye are, but you'd be wuss--a fool--ef you didn't take him.
+I'm testimony that you found him among your hosses; I'll tell Judge
+Boompointer you've got him, and ye kin send him back when you're safe.
+The judge will be mighty glad to get him back, and call it quits. So ef
+you've writ to Salomy Jane, come.”
+
+Madison Clay no longer hesitated. Salomy Jane might return at any
+moment,--it would be part of her “fool womanishness,”--and he was in
+no mood to see her before a third party. He laid the note on the table,
+gave a hurried glance around the house, which he grimly believed he was
+leaving forever, and, striding to the door, leaped on the stolen horse,
+and swept away with his kinsman.
+
+But that note lay for a week undisturbed on the table in full view of
+the open door. The house was invaded by leaves, pine cones, birds,
+and squirrels during the hot, silent, empty days, and at night by shy,
+stealthy creatures, but never again, day or night, by any of the Clay
+family. It was known in the district that Clay had flown across the
+state line, his daughter was believed to have joined him the next day,
+and the house was supposed to be locked up. It lay off the main road,
+and few passed that way. The starving cattle in the corral at last broke
+bounds and spread over the woods. And one night a stronger blast than
+usual swept through the house, carried the note from the table to the
+floor, where, whirled into a crack in the flooring, it slowly rotted.
+
+But though the sting of her father's reproach was spared her, Salomy
+Jane had no need of the letter to know what had happened. For as she
+entered the woods in the dim light of that morning she saw the figure of
+Dart gliding from the shadow of a pine towards her. The unaffected cry
+of joy that rose from her lips died there as she caught sight of his
+face in the open light.
+
+“You are hurt,” she said, clutching his arm passionately.
+
+“No,” he said. “But I wouldn't mind that if”--
+
+“You're thinkin' I was afeard to come back last night when I heard the
+shootin', but I DID come,” she went on feverishly. “I ran back here when
+I heard the two shots, but you were gone. I went to the corral, but your
+hoss wasn't there, and I thought you'd got away.”
+
+“I DID get away,” said Dart gloomily. “I killed the man, thinkin' he
+was huntin' ME, and forgettin' I was disguised. He thought I was your
+father.”
+
+“Yes,” said the girl joyfully, “he was after dad, and YOU--you killed
+him.” She again caught his hand admiringly.
+
+But he did not respond. Possibly there were points of honor which this
+horse-thief felt vaguely with her father. “Listen,” he said grimly.
+“Others think it was your father killed him. When I did it--for he fired
+at me first--I ran to the corral again and took my hoss, thinkin' I
+might be follered. I made a clear circuit of the house, and when I found
+he was the only one, and no one was follerin', I come back here and took
+off my disguise. Then I heard his friends find him in the wood, and I
+know they suspected your father. And then another man come through the
+woods while I was hidin' and found the clothes and took them away.” He
+stopped and stared at her gloomily.
+
+But all this was unintelligible to the girl. “Dad would have got
+the better of him ef you hadn't,” she said eagerly, “so what's the
+difference?”
+
+“All the same,” he said gloomily, “I must take his place.”
+
+She did not understand, but turned her head to her master. “Then you'll
+go back with me and tell him ALL?” she said obediently.
+
+“Yes,” he said.
+
+She put her hand in his, and they crept out of the wood together. She
+foresaw a thousand difficulties, but, chiefest of all, that he did not
+love as she did. SHE would not have taken these risks against their
+happiness.
+
+But alas for ethics and heroism. As they were issuing from the wood
+they heard the sound of galloping hoofs, and had barely time to
+hide themselves before Madison Clay, on the stolen horse of Judge
+Boompointer, swept past them with his kinsman.
+
+Salomy Jane turned to her lover.
+
+*****
+
+And here I might, as a moral romancer, pause, leaving the guilty,
+passionate girl eloped with her disreputable lover, destined to lifelong
+shame and misery, misunderstood to the last by a criminal, fastidious
+parent. But I am confronted by certain facts, on which this romance is
+based. A month later a handbill was posted on one of the sentinel pines,
+announcing that the property would be sold by auction to the highest
+bidder by Mrs. John Dart, daughter of Madison Clay, Esq., and it was
+sold accordingly. Still later--by ten years--the chronicler of these
+pages visited a certain “stock” or “breeding farm,” in the “Blue Grass
+Country,” famous for the popular racers it has produced. He was told
+that the owner was the “best judge of horse-flesh in the country.”
+ “Small wonder,” added his informant, “for they say as a young man out in
+California he was a horse-thief, and only saved himself by eloping with
+some rich farmer's daughter. But he's a straight-out and respectable man
+now, whose word about horses can't be bought; and as for his wife, she's
+a beauty! To see her at the 'Springs,' rigged out in the latest fashion,
+you'd never think she had ever lived out of New York or wasn't the wife
+of one of its millionaires.”
+
+
+
+
+THE MAN AND THE MOUNTAIN
+
+
+He was such a large, strong man that, when he first set foot in the
+little parallelogram I called my garden, it seemed to shrink to half its
+size and become preposterous. But I noticed at the same time that he was
+holding in the open palm of his huge hand the roots of a violet, with
+such infinite tenderness and delicacy that I would have engaged him as
+my gardener on the spot. But this could not be, as he was already the
+proud proprietor of a market-garden and nursery on the outskirts of the
+suburban Californian town where I lived. He would, however, come for two
+days in the week, stock and look after my garden, and impart to my
+urban intellect such horticultural hints as were necessary. His name was
+“Rutli,” which I presumed to be German, but which my neighbors rendered
+as “Rootleigh,” possibly from some vague connection with his occupation.
+His own knowledge of English was oral and phonetic. I have a delightful
+recollection of a bill of his in which I was charged for “fioletz,” with
+the vague addition of “maine cains.” Subsequent explanation proved it to
+be “many kinds.”
+
+Nevertheless, my little garden bourgeoned and blossomed under his
+large, protecting hand. I became accustomed to walk around his feet
+respectfully when they blocked the tiny paths, and to expect the total
+eclipse of that garden-bed on which he worked, by his huge bulk. For the
+tiniest and most reluctant rootlet seemed to respond to his caressing
+paternal touch; it was a pretty sight to see his huge fingers tying up
+some slender stalk to its stick with the smallest thread, and he had
+a reverent way of laying a bulb or seed in the ground, and then gently
+shaping and smoothing a small mound over it, which made the little
+inscription on the stick above more like an affecting epitaph than
+ever. Much of this gentleness may have been that apology for his great
+strength, common with large men; but his face was distinctly amiable,
+and his very light blue eyes were at times wistful and doglike in their
+kindliness. I was soon to learn, however, that placability was not
+entirely his nature.
+
+The garden was part of a fifty vara lot of land, on which I was
+simultaneously erecting a house. But the garden was finished before the
+house was, through certain circumstances very characteristic of that
+epoch and civilization. I had purchased the Spanish title, the only
+LEGAL one, to the land, which, however, had been in POSSESSION of a
+“squatter.” But he had been unable to hold that possession against a
+“jumper,”--another kind of squatter who had entered upon it covertly,
+fenced it in, and marked it out in building sites. Neither having legal
+rights, they could not invoke the law; the last man held possession.
+There was no doubt that in due course of litigation and time both these
+ingenuous gentlemen would have been dispossessed in favor of the real
+owner,--myself,--but that course would be a protracted one. Following
+the usual custom of the locality, I paid a certain sum to the jumper to
+yield up peaceably HIS possession of the land, and began to build upon
+it. It might be reasonably supposed that the question was settled.
+But it was not. The house was nearly finished when, one morning, I was
+called out of my editorial sanctum by a pallid painter, looking even
+more white-leaded than usual, who informed me that my house was in the
+possession of five armed men! The entry had been made peaceably
+during the painters' absence to dinner under a wayside tree. When they
+returned, they had found their pots and brushes in the road, and an
+intimation from the windows that their reentrance would be forcibly
+resisted as a trespass.
+
+I honestly believe that Rutli was more concerned than myself over
+this dispossession. While he loyally believed that I would get back
+my property, he was dreadfully grieved over the inevitable damage
+that would be done to the garden during this interval of neglect and
+carelessness. I even think he would have made a truce with my enemies,
+if they would only have let him look after his beloved plants. As it
+was, he kept a passing but melancholy surveillance of them, and was
+indeed a better spy of the actions of the intruders than any I could
+have employed. One day, to my astonishment, he brought me a moss-rose
+bud from a bush which had been trained against a column of the veranda.
+It appeared that he had called, from over the fence, the attention of
+one of the men to the neglected condition of the plant, and had obtained
+permission to “come in and tie it up.” The men, being merely hirelings
+of the chief squatter, had no personal feeling, and I was not therefore
+surprised to hear that they presently allowed Rutli to come in
+occasionally and look after his precious “slips.” If they had any
+suspicions of his great strength, it was probably offset by his peaceful
+avocation and his bland, childlike face. Meantime, I had begun the usual
+useless legal proceeding, but had also engaged a few rascals of my own
+to be ready to take advantage of any want of vigilance on the part of my
+adversaries. I never thought of Rutli in that connection any more than
+they had.
+
+A few Sundays later I was sitting in the little tea-arbor of Rutli's
+nursery, peacefully smoking with him. Presently he took his long
+china-bowled pipe from his mouth, and, looking at me blandly over his
+yellow mustache, said:--
+
+“You vonts sometimes to go in dot house, eh?”
+
+I said, “Decidedly.”
+
+“Mit a revolver, and keep dot house dose men out?”
+
+“Yes!”
+
+“Vell! I put you in dot house--today!”
+
+“Sunday?”
+
+“Shoost so! It is a goot day! On der Suntay DREE men vill out go to
+valk mit demselluffs, and visky trinken. TWO,” holding up two gigantic
+fingers, apparently only a shade or two smaller than his destined
+victims, “stay dere. Dose I lift de fence over.”
+
+I hastened to inform him that any violence attempted against the parties
+WHILE IN POSSESSION, although that possession was illegal, would, by a
+fatuity of the law, land him in the county jail. I said I would not hear
+of it.
+
+“But suppose dere vos no fiolence? Suppose dose men vos villin', eh? How
+vos dot for high?”
+
+“I don't understand.”
+
+“So! You shall NOT understand! Dot is better. Go away now and dell your
+men to coom dot house arount at halluff past dree. But YOU coom, mit
+yourselluff alone, shoost as if you vos spazieren gehen, for a valk, by
+dat fence at dree! Ven you shall dot front door vide open see, go in,
+and dere you vos! You vill der rest leef to me!”
+
+It was in vain that I begged Rutli to divulge his plan, and pointed out
+again the danger of his technically breaking the law. But he was firm,
+assuring me that I myself would be a witness that no assault would be
+made. I looked into his clear, good-humored eyes, and assented. I had a
+burning desire to right my wrongs, but I think I also had considerable
+curiosity.
+
+I passed a miserable quarter of an hour after I had warned my partisans,
+and then walked alone slowly down the broad leafy street towards the
+scene of contest. I have a very vivid recollection of my conflicting
+emotions. I did not believe that I would be killed; I had no distinct
+intention of killing any of my adversaries; but I had some considerable
+concern for my loyal friend Rutli, whom I foresaw might be in some peril
+from the revolver in my unpracticed hand. If I could only avoid shooting
+HIM, I would be satisfied. I remember that the bells were ringing for
+church,--a church of which my enemy, the chief squatter, was a deacon
+in good standing,--and I felt guiltily conscious of my revolver in my
+hip-pocket, as two or three church-goers passed me with their hymn-books
+in their hands. I walked leisurely, so as not to attract attention,
+and to appear at the exact time, a not very easy task in my youthful
+excitement. At last I reached the front gate with a beating heart. There
+was no one on the high veranda, which occupied three sides of the low
+one-storied house, nor in the garden before it. But the front door was
+open; I softly passed through the gate, darted up the veranda and into
+the house. A single glance around the hall and bare, deserted rooms,
+still smelling of paint, showed me it was empty, and with my pistol in
+one hand and the other on the lock of the door, I stood inside, ready to
+bolt it against any one but Rutli. But where was HE?
+
+The sound of laughter and a noise like skylarking came from the rear of
+the house and the back yard. Then I suddenly heard Rutli's heavy tread
+on the veranda, but it was slow, deliberate, and so exaggerated in
+its weight that the whole house seemed to shake with it. Then from the
+window I beheld an extraordinary sight! It was Rutli, swaying from
+side to side, but steadily carrying with outstretched arms two of the
+squatter party, his hands tightly grasping their collars. Yet I
+believe his touch was as gentle as with the violets. His face was
+preternaturally grave; theirs, to my intense astonishment, while they
+hung passive from his arms, wore that fatuous, imbecile smile seen on
+the faces of those who lend themselves to tricks of acrobats and strong
+men in the arena. He slowly traversed the whole length of one side of
+the house, walked down the steps to the gate, and then gravely deposited
+them OUTSIDE. I heard him say, “Dot vins der pet, ain't it?” and
+immediately after the sharp click of the gate-latch.
+
+Without understanding a thing that had happened, I rightly conceived
+this was the cue for my appearance with my revolver at the front door.
+As I opened it I still heard the sound of laughter, which, however,
+instantly stopped at a sentence from Rutli, which I could not hear.
+There was an oath, the momentary apparition of two furious and indignant
+faces over the fence; but these, however, seemed to be instantly
+extinguished and put down by the enormous palms of Rutli clapped upon
+their heads. There was a pause, and then Rutli turned around and quietly
+joined me in the doorway. But the gate was not again opened until the
+arrival of my partisans, when the house was clearly in my possession.
+
+Safe inside with the door bolted, I turned eagerly to Rutli for an
+explanation. It then appeared that during his occasional visits to the
+garden he had often been an object of amusement and criticism to the men
+on account of his size, which seemed to them ridiculously inconsistent
+with his great good humor, gentleness, and delicacy of touch. They had
+doubted his strength and challenged his powers. He had responded once
+or twice before, lifting weights or even carrying one of his critics
+at arm's length for a few steps. But he had reserved his final feat
+for this day and this purpose. It was for a bet, which they had eagerly
+accepted, secure in their belief in his simplicity, the sincerity of his
+motives in coming there, and glad of the opportunity of a little Sunday
+diversion. In their security they had not locked the door when they
+came out, and had not noticed that HE had opened it. This was his simple
+story. His only comment, “I haf von der pet, but I dinks I shall nod
+gollect der money.” The two men did not return that afternoon, nor did
+their comrades. Whether they wisely conceived that a man who was so
+powerful in play might be terrible in earnest; whether they knew that
+his act, in which they had been willing performers, had been witnessed
+by passing citizens, who supposed it was skylarking; or whether their
+employer got tired of his expensive occupation, I never knew. The public
+believed the latter; Rutli, myself, and the two men he had evicted alone
+kept our secret.
+
+From that time Rutli and I became firm friends, and, long after I had
+no further need of his services in the recaptured house, I often found
+myself in the little tea-arbor of his prosperous nursery. He was frugal,
+sober, and industrious; small wonder that in that growing town he waxed
+rich, and presently opened a restaurant in the main street, connected
+with his market-garden, which became famous. His relations to me
+never changed with his changed fortunes; he was always the simple
+market-gardener and florist who had aided my first housekeeping, and
+stood by me in an hour of need. Of all things regarding himself he was
+singularly reticent; I do not think he had any confidants or intimates,
+even among his own countrymen, whom I believed to be German. But one day
+he quite accidentally admitted he was a Swiss. As a youthful admirer
+of the race I was delighted, and told him so, with the enthusiastic
+addition that I could now quite understand his independence, with his
+devoted adherence to another's cause. He smiled sadly, and astonished me
+by saying that he had not heard from Switzerland since he left six years
+ago. He did not want to hear anything; he even avoided his countrymen
+lest he should. I was confounded.
+
+“But,” I said, “surely you have a longing to return to your country; all
+Swiss have! You will go back some day just to breathe the air of your
+native mountains.”
+
+“I shall go back some days,” said Rutli, “after I have made mooch, mooch
+money, but not for dot air.”
+
+“What for, then?”
+
+“For revenge--to get efen.”
+
+Surprised, and for a moment dismayed as I was, I could not help
+laughing. “Rutli and revenge!” Impossible! And to make it the more
+absurd, he was still smoking gently and regarding me with soft,
+complacent eyes. So unchanged was his face and manner that he might have
+told me he was going back to be married.
+
+“You do not oonderstand,” he said forgivingly. “Some days I shall dell
+to you id. Id is a story. You shall make it yourselluff for dose babers
+dot you write. It is not bretty, berhaps, ain't it, but it is droo. And
+de endt is not yet.”
+
+Only that Rutli never joked, except in a ponderous fashion with many
+involved sentences, I should have thought he was taking a good-humored
+rise out of me. But it was not funny. I am afraid I dismissed it from my
+mind as a revelation of something weak and puerile, quite inconsistent
+with his practical common sense and strong simplicity, and wished he had
+not alluded to it. I never asked him to tell me the story. It was a year
+later, and only when he had invited me to come to the opening of a new
+hotel, erected by him at a mountain spa of great resort, that he himself
+alluded to it.
+
+The hotel was a wonderful affair, even for those days, and Rutli's
+outlay of capital convinced me that by this time he must have made the
+“mooch money” he coveted. Something of this was in my mind when we sat
+by the window of his handsomely furnished private office, overlooking
+the pines of a Californian canyon. I asked him if the scenery was like
+Switzerland.
+
+“Ach! no!” he replied; “but I vill puild a hotel shoost like dis dare.”
+
+“Is that a part of your revenge?” I asked, with a laugh.
+
+“Ah! so! a bart.”
+
+I felt relieved; a revenge so practical did not seem very malicious or
+idiotic. After a pause he puffed contemplatively at his pipe, and then
+said, “I dell you somedings of dot story now.”
+
+He began. I should like to tell it in his own particular English, mixed
+with American slang, but it would not convey the simplicity of the
+narrator. He was the son of a large family who had lived for centuries
+in one of the highest villages in the Bernese Oberland. He attained his
+size and strength early, but with a singular distaste to use them in
+the rough regular work on the farm, although he was a great climber and
+mountaineer, and, what was at first overlooked as mere boyish fancy, had
+an insatiable love and curious knowledge of plants and flowers. He knew
+the haunts of Edelweiss, Alpine rose, and blue gentian, and had brought
+home rare and unknown blossoms from under the icy lips of glaciers.
+But as he did this when his time was supposed to be occupied in looking
+after the cows in the higher pastures and making cheeses, there was
+trouble in that hard-working, practical family. A giant with the tastes
+and disposition of a schoolgirl was an anomaly in a Swiss village.
+Unfortunately again, he was not studious; his record in the village
+school had been on a par with his manual work, and the family had not
+even the consolation of believing that they were fostering a genius. In
+a community where practical industry was the highest virtue, it was not
+strange, perhaps, that he was called “lazy” and “shiftless;” no one knew
+the long climbs and tireless vigils he had undergone in remote solitudes
+in quest of his favorites, or, knowing, forgave him for it. Abstemious,
+frugal, and patient as he was, even the crusts of his father's table
+were given him grudgingly. He often went hungry rather than ask the
+bread he had failed to earn. How his great frame was nurtured in those
+days he never knew; perhaps the giant mountains recognized some kin
+in him and fed and strengthened him after their own fashion. Even his
+gentleness was confounded with cowardice. “Dot vos de hardtest,” he said
+simply; “it is not goot to be opligit to half crush your brudder, ven he
+would make a laugh of you to your sweetheart.” The end came sooner than
+he expected, and, oddly enough, through this sweetheart. “Gottlieb,” she
+said to him one day, “the English Fremde who stayed here last night met
+me when I was carrying some of those beautiful flowers you gave me. He
+asked me where they were to be found, and I told him only YOU knew. He
+wants to see you; go to him. It may be luck to you.” Rutli went. The
+stranger, an English Alpine climber of scientific tastes, talked with
+him for an hour. At the end of that time, to everybody's astonishment,
+he engaged this hopeless idler as his personal guide for three months,
+at the sum of five francs a day! It was inconceivable, it was unheard
+of! The Englander was as mad as Gottlieb, whose intellect had always
+been under suspicion! The schoolmaster pursed up his lips, the pastor
+shook his head; no good could come of it; the family looked upon it as
+another freak of Gottlieb's, but there was one big mouth less to feed
+and more room in the kitchen, and they let him go. They parted from him
+as ungraciously as they had endured his presence.
+
+Then followed two months of sunshine in Rutli's life--association with
+his beloved plants, and the intelligent sympathy and direction of a
+cultivated man. Even in altitudes so dangerous that they had to take
+other and more experienced guides, Rutli was always at his master's
+side. That savant's collection of Alpine flora excelled all previous
+ones; he talked freely with Rutli of further work in the future, and
+relaxed his English reserve so far as to confide to him that the outcome
+of their collection and observation might be a book. He gave a flower
+a Latin name, in which even the ignorant and delighted Rutli could
+distinguish some likeness to his own. But the book was never compiled.
+In one of their later and more difficult ascents they and their two
+additional guides were overtaken by a sudden storm. Swept from their
+feet down an ice-bound slope, Rutli alone of the roped-together party
+kept a foothold on the treacherous incline. Here this young Titan, with
+bleeding fingers clenched in a rock cleft, sustained the struggles and
+held up the lives of his companions by that precious thread for more
+than an hour. Perhaps he might have saved them, but in their desperate
+efforts to regain their footing the rope slipped upon a jagged edge of
+outcrop and parted as if cut by a knife. The two guides passed without
+an outcry into obscurity and death; Rutli, with a last despairing
+exertion, dragged to his own level his unconscious master, crippled by a
+broken leg.
+
+Your true hero is apt to tell his tale simply. Rutli did not dwell upon
+these details, nor need I. Left alone upon a treacherous ice slope
+in benumbing cold, with a helpless man, eight hours afterwards he
+staggered, half blind, incoherent, and inarticulate, into a “shelter”
+ hut, with the dead body of his master in his stiffened arms. The
+shelter-keepers turned their attention to Rutli, who needed it most.
+Blind and delirious, with scarce a chance for life, he was sent the next
+day to a hospital, where he lay for three months, helpless, imbecile,
+and unknown. The dead body of the Englishman was identified, and sent
+home; the bodies of the guides were recovered by their friends; but no
+one knew aught of Rutli, even his name. While the event was still fresh
+in the minds of those who saw him enter the hut with the body of his
+master, a paragraph appeared in a Berne journal recording the heroism of
+this nameless man. But it could not be corroborated nor explained by the
+demented hero, and was presently forgotten. Six months from the day he
+had left his home he was discharged cured. He had not a kreutzer in his
+pocket; he had never drawn his wages from his employer; he had preferred
+to have it in a lump sum that he might astonish his family on his
+return. His eyes were still weak, his memory feeble; only his great
+physical strength remained through his long illness. A few sympathizing
+travelers furnished him the means to reach his native village, many
+miles away. He found his family had heard of the loss of the Englishman
+and the guides, and had believed he was one of them. Already he was
+forgotten.
+
+“Ven you vos once peliefed to be det,” said Rutli, after a philosophic
+pause and puff, “it vos not goot to ondeceif beoples. You oopset
+somedings, soomdimes always. Der hole dot you hef made in der grount,
+among your frients and your family, vos covered up alretty. You are
+loocky if you vill not fint some vellars shtanding upon id! My frent,
+ven you vos DINK det, SHTAY det, BE det, and you vill lif happy!”
+
+“But your sweetheart?” I said eagerly.
+
+A slight gleam of satire stole into Rutli's light eyes. “My sweetheart,
+ven I vos dinks det, is der miller engaged do bromply! It is mooch
+better dan to a man dot vos boor and plint and grazy! So! Vell, der next
+day I pids dem goot-py, und from der door I say, 'I am det now; but ven
+I next comes pack alife, I shall dis village py! der lants, der houses
+all togedders. And den for yourselluffs look oudt!'”
+
+“Then that's your revenge? That is what you really intend to do?” I
+said, half laughing, yet with an uneasy recollection of his illness and
+enfeebled mind.
+
+“Yes. Look here! I show you somedings.” He opened a drawer of his desk
+and took out what appeared to be some diagrams, plans, and a small
+water-colored map, like a surveyor's tracing. “Look,” he said, laying
+his finger on the latter, “dat is a map from my fillage. I hef myselluff
+made it out from my memory. Dot,” pointing to a blank space, “is der
+mountain side high up, so far. It is no goot until I vill a tunnel make
+or der grade lefel. Dere vas mine fader's house, dere vos der church,
+der schoolhouse, dot vos de burgomaster's house,” he went on, pointing
+to the respective plots in this old curving parallelogram of the
+mountain shelf. “So was the fillage when I leave him on the 5th of
+March, eighteen hundred and feefty. Now you shall see him shoost as I
+vill make him ven I go back.” He took up another plan, beautifully
+drawn and colored, and evidently done by a professional hand. It was
+a practical, yet almost fairylike transformation of the same spot!
+The narrow mountain shelf was widened by excavation, and a boulevard
+stretched on either side. A great hotel, not unlike the one in which we
+sat, stood in an open terrace, with gardens and fountains--the site of
+his father's house. Blocks of pretty dwellings, shops, and cafes filled
+the intermediate space. I laid down the paper.
+
+“How long have you had this idea?”
+
+“Efer since I left dere, fifteen years ago.”
+
+“But your father and mother may be dead by this time?”
+
+“So, but dere vill be odders. Und der blace--it vill remain.”
+
+“But all this will cost a fortune, and you are not sure”--
+
+“I know shoost vot id vill gost, to a cend.”
+
+“And you think you can ever afford to carry out your idea?”
+
+“I VILL affort id. Ven you shall make yet some moneys and go to Europe,
+you shall see. I VILL infite you dere first. Now coom and look der house
+around.”
+
+*****
+
+I did NOT make “some moneys,” but I DID go to Europe. Three years after
+this last interview with Rutli I was coming from Interlaken to Berne
+by rail. I had not heard from him, and I had forgotten the name of his
+village, but as I looked up from the paper I was reading, I suddenly
+recognized him in the further end of the same compartment I occupied.
+His recognition of me was evidently as sudden and unexpected. After our
+first hand-grasp and greeting, I said:--
+
+“And how about our new village?”
+
+“Dere is no fillage.”
+
+“What! You have given up the idea?”
+
+“Yes. There is no fillage, olt or new.”
+
+“I don't understand.”
+
+He looked at me a moment. “You have not heard?”
+
+“No.”
+
+He gently picked up a little local guidebook that lay in my lap, and
+turning its leaves, pointed to a page, and read as follows:--
+
+“5 M. beyond, the train passes a curve R., where a fine view of the lake
+may be seen. A little to the R. rises the steep slopes of the ----, the
+scene of a terrible disaster. At three o'clock on March 5, 1850, the
+little village of ----, lying midway of the slope, with its population
+of 950 souls, was completely destroyed by a landslip from the top of
+the mountain. So sudden was the catastrophe that not a single escape
+is recorded. A large portion of the mountain crest, as will be observed
+when it is seen in profile, descended to the valley, burying the
+unfortunate village to a depth variously estimated at from 1000 ft.
+to 1800 ft. The geological causes which produced this extraordinary
+displacement have been fully discussed, but the greater evidence points
+to the theory of subterranean glaciers. 5 M. beyond ---- the train
+crosses the R. bridge.”
+
+I laid down the guide-book in breathless astonishment.
+
+“And you never heard of this in all these years?”
+
+“Nefer! I asked no questions, I read no pooks. I have no ledders from
+home.”
+
+“And yet you”--I stopped, I could not call him a fool; neither could
+I, in the face of his perfect composure and undisturbed eyes, exhibit
+a concern greater than his own. An uneasy recollection of what he
+confessed had been his mental condition immediately after his accident
+came over me. Had he been the victim of a strange hallucination
+regarding his house and family all these years? Were these dreams of
+revenge, this fancy of creating a new village, only an outcome of
+some shock arising out of the disaster itself, which he had long since
+forgotten?
+
+He was looking from the window. “Coom,” he said, “ve are near der blace.
+I vill show id to you.” He rose and passed out to the rear platform.
+We were in the rear car, and a new panorama of the lake and mountains
+flashed upon us at every curve of the line. I followed him. Presently
+he pointed to what appeared to be a sheer wall of rock and stunted
+vegetation towering two or three thousand feet above us, which started
+out of a gorge we were passing. “Dere it vos!” he said. I saw the vast
+stretch of rock face rising upward and onward, but nothing else. No
+debris, no ruins, nor even a swelling or rounding of the mountain flank
+over that awful tomb. Yet, stay! as we dashed across the gorge, and the
+face of the mountain shifted, high up, the sky-line was slightly broken
+as if a few inches, a mere handful, of the crest was crumbled away. And
+then--both gorge and mountain vanished.
+
+I was still embarrassed and uneasy, and knew not what to say to this man
+at my side, whose hopes and ambition had been as quickly overthrown and
+buried, and whose life-dream had as quickly vanished. But he himself,
+taking his pipe from his lips, broke the silence.
+
+“It vos a narrow esgabe!”
+
+“What was?”
+
+“Vy, dis dings. If I had stayed in my fader's house, I vould haf been
+det for goot, and perried too! Somedimes dose dings cooms oudt apout
+right, don't id?”
+
+Unvanquished philosopher! As we stood there looking at the flying
+landscape and sinking lesser hills, one by one the great snow peaks
+slowly arose behind them, lifting themselves, as if to take a last
+wondering look at the man they had triumphed over, but had not subdued.
+
+
+
+
+THE PASSING OF ENRIQUEZ
+
+
+When Enriquez Saltillo ran away with Miss Mannersley, as already
+recorded in these chronicles,* her relatives and friends found it much
+easier to forgive that ill-assorted union than to understand it. For,
+after all, Enriquez was the scion of an old Spanish-Californian family,
+and in due time would have his share of his father's three square
+leagues, whatever incongruity there was between his lively Latin
+extravagance and Miss Mannersley's Puritan precision and intellectual
+superiority. They had gone to Mexico; Mrs. Saltillo, as was known,
+having an interest in Aztec antiquities, and he being utterly submissive
+to her wishes. For myself from my knowledge of Enriquez's nature, I had
+grave doubts of his entire subjugation, although I knew the prevailing
+opinion was that Mrs. Saltillo's superiority would speedily tame him.
+Since his brief and characteristic note apprising me of his marriage,
+I had not heard from him. It was, therefore, with some surprise, a good
+deal of reminiscent affection, and a slight twinge of reproach that, two
+years after, I looked up from some proofs, in the sanctum of the “Daily
+Excelsior,” to recognize his handwriting on a note that was handed to me
+by a yellow Mexican boy.
+
+     * See “The Devotion of Enriquez,” in Selected Stories by
+     Bret Harte Gutenberg #1312.
+
+A single glance at its contents showed me that Mrs. Saltillo's
+correct Bostonian speech had not yet subdued Enriquez's peculiar
+Spanish-American slang:--
+
+“Here we are again,--right side up with care,--at 1110 Dupont Street,
+Telegraph Hill. Second floor from top. 'Ring and push.' 'No book agents
+need apply.' How's your royal nibs? I kiss your hand! Come at six,--the
+band shall play at seven,--and regard your friend 'Mees Boston,' who
+will tell you about the little old nigger boys, and your old Uncle
+'Ennery.”
+
+Two things struck me: Enriquez had not changed; Mrs. Saltillo had
+certainly yielded up some of her peculiar prejudices. For the address
+given, far from being a fashionable district, was known as the “Spanish
+quarter,” which, while it still held some old Spanish families, was
+chiefly given over to half-castes and obscurer foreigners. Even poverty
+could not have driven Mrs. Saltillo to such a refuge against her will;
+nevertheless, a good deal of concern for Enriquez's fortune mingled with
+my curiosity, as I impatiently waited for six o'clock to satisfy it.
+
+It was a breezy climb to 1110 Dupont Street; and although the street
+had been graded, the houses retained their airy elevation, and were
+accessible only by successive flights of wooden steps to the front door,
+which still gave perilously upon the street, sixty feet below. I now
+painfully appreciated Enriquez's adaptation of the time-honored joke
+about the second floor. An invincible smell of garlic almost took my
+remaining breath away as the door was opened to me by a swarthy Mexican
+woman, whose loose camisa seemed to be slipping from her unstable bust,
+and was held on only by the mantua-like shawl which supplemented it,
+gripped by one brown hand. Dizzy from my ascent to that narrow perch,
+which looked upon nothing but the distant bay and shores of Contra
+Costa, I felt as apologetic as if I had landed from a balloon; but the
+woman greeted me with a languid Spanish smile and a lazy display of
+white teeth, as if my arrival was quite natural. Don Enriquez, “of a
+fact,” was not himself in the casa, but was expected “on the instant.”
+ “Donna Urania” was at home.
+
+“Donna Urania”? For an instant I had forgotten that Mrs. Saltillo's
+first name was Urania, so pleasantly and spontaneously did it fall
+from the Spanish lips. Nor was I displeased at this chance of learning
+something of Don Enriquez's fortunes and the Saltillo menage before
+confronting my old friend. The servant preceded me to the next floor,
+and, opening a door, ushered me into the lady's presence.
+
+I had carried with me, on that upward climb, a lively recollection of
+Miss Mannersley as I had known her two years before. I remembered her
+upright, almost stiff, slight figure, the graceful precision of her
+poses, the faultless symmetry and taste of her dress, and the atmosphere
+of a fastidious and wholesome cleanliness which exhaled from her. In the
+lady I saw before me, half reclining in a rocking-chair, there was
+none of the stiffness and nicety. Habited in a loose gown of some easy,
+flexible, but rich material, worn with that peculiarly indolent
+slouch of the Mexican woman, Mrs. Saltillo had parted with half her
+individuality. Even her arched feet and thin ankles, the close-fitting
+boots or small slippers of which were wont to accent their delicacy,
+were now lost in a short, low-quartered kid shoe of the Spanish type,
+in which they moved loosely. Her hair, which she had always worn with a
+certain Greek simplicity, was parted at one side. Yet her face, with
+its regularity of feature, and small, thin, red-lipped mouth, was quite
+unchanged; and her velvety brown eyes were as beautiful and inscrutable
+as ever.
+
+With the same glance I had taken in her surroundings, quite as
+incongruous to her former habits. The furniture, though of old and heavy
+mahogany, had suffered from careless alien hands, and was interspersed
+with modern and unmatchable makeshifts, yet preserving the distinctly
+scant and formal attitude of furnished lodgings. It was certainly
+unlike the artistic trifles and delicate refinements of her uncle's
+drawing-room, which we all knew her taste had dictated and ruled. The
+black and white engravings, the outlined heads of Minerva and Diana,
+were excluded from the walls for two cheap colored Catholic prints,--a
+soulless Virgin, and the mystery of the Bleeding Heart. Against the
+wall, in one corner, hung the only object which seemed a memento of
+their travels,--a singular-looking upright Indian “papoose-case” or
+cradle, glaringly decorated with beads and paint, probably an Aztec
+relic. On a round table, the velvet cover of which showed marks of usage
+and abusage, there were scattered books and writing materials; and my
+editorial instinct suddenly recognized, with a thrill of apprehension,
+the loose leaves of an undoubted manuscript. This circumstance, taken
+with the fact of Donna Urania's hair being parted on one side, and the
+general negligee of her appearance, was a disturbing revelation.
+
+My wandering eye apparently struck her, for after the first greeting she
+pointed to the manuscript with a smile.
+
+“Yes; that is THE manuscript. I suppose Enriquez told you all about it?
+He said he had written.”
+
+I was dumfounded. I certainly had not understood ALL of Enriquez's
+slang; it was always so decidedly his own, and peculiar. Yet I could not
+recall any allusion to this.
+
+“He told me something of it, but very vaguely,” I ventured to say
+deprecatingly; “but I am afraid that I thought more of seeing my old
+friend again than of anything else.”
+
+“During our stay in Mexico,” continued Mrs. Saltillo, with something of
+her old precision, “I made some researches into Aztec history, a subject
+always deeply interesting to me, and I thought I would utilize the
+result by throwing it on paper. Of course it is better fitted for a
+volume of reference than for a newspaper, but Enriquez thought you might
+want to use it for your journal.”
+
+I knew that Enriquez had no taste for literature, and had even rather
+depreciated it in the old days, with his usual extravagance; but I
+managed to say very pleasantly that I was delighted with his suggestion
+and should be glad to read the manuscript. After all, it was not
+improbable that Mrs. Saltillo, who was educated and intelligent, should
+write well, if not popularly. “Then Enriquez does not begrudge you the
+time that your work takes from him,” I added laughingly. “You seem to
+have occupied your honeymoon practically.”
+
+“We quite comprehend our respective duties,” said Mrs. Saltillo dryly;
+“and have from the first. We have our own lives to live, independent
+of my uncle and Enriquez's father. We have not only accepted the
+responsibility of our own actions, but we both feel the higher
+privilege of creating our own conditions without extraneous aid from our
+relatives.”
+
+It struck me that this somewhat exalted statement was decidedly a pose,
+or a return of Urania Mannersley's old ironical style. I looked quietly
+into her brown, near-sighted eyes; but, as once before, my glance seemed
+to slip from their moist surface without penetrating the inner thought
+beneath. “And what does Enriquez do for HIS part?” I asked smilingly.
+
+I fully expected to hear that the energetic Enriquez was utilizing
+his peculiar tastes and experiences by horse-breaking, stock-raising,
+professional bull-fighting, or even horse-racing, but was quite
+astonished when she answered quietly:--
+
+“Enriquez is giving himself up to geology and practical metallurgy, with
+a view to scientific, purely scientific, mining.”
+
+Enriquez and geology! In that instant all I could remember of it were
+his gibes at the “geologian,” as he was wont to term Professor Dobbs,
+a former admirer of Miss Mannersley's. To add to my confusion Mrs.
+Saltillo at the same moment absolutely voiced my thought.
+
+“You may remember Professor Dobbs,” she went on calmly, “one of the most
+eminent scientists over here, and a very old Boston friend. He has
+taken Enriquez in hand. His progress is most satisfactory; we have the
+greatest hopes of him.”
+
+“And how soon do you both hope to have some practical results of his
+study?” I could not help asking a little mischievously; for I somehow
+resented the plural pronoun in her last sentence.
+
+“Very soon,” said Mrs. Saltillo, ignoring everything but the question.
+“You know Enriquez's sanguine temperament. Perhaps he is already given
+to evolving theories without a sufficient basis of fact. Still, he has
+the daring of a discoverer. His ideas of the oolitic formation are not
+without originality, and Professor Dobbs says that in his conception of
+the Silurian beach there are gleams that are distinctly precious.”
+
+I looked at Mrs. Saltillo, who had reinforced her eyes with her old
+piquant pince-nez, but could detect no irony in them. She was prettily
+imperturbable, that was all. There was an awkward silence. Then it was
+broken by a bounding step on the stairs, a wide-open fling of the door,
+and Enriquez pirouetted into the room: Enriquez, as of old, unchanged
+from the crown of his smooth, coal-black hair to the tips of his small,
+narrow Arabian feet; Enriquez, with his thin, curling mustache, his
+dancing eyes set in his immovable face, just as I had always known him!
+
+He affected to lapse against the door for a minute, as if staggered by a
+resplendent vision. Then he said:--
+
+“What do I regard? Is it a dream, or have I again got them--thees
+jimjams? My best friend and my best--I mean my ONLY--wife! Embrace me!”
+
+He gave me an enthusiastic embrace and a wink like sheet-lightning,
+passed quickly to his wife, before whom he dropped on one knee, raised
+the toe of her slipper to his lips, and then sank on the sofa in
+simulated collapse, murmuring, “Thees is too mooch of white stone for
+one day!”
+
+Through all this I saw his wife regarding him with exactly the same
+critically amused expression with which she had looked upon him in the
+days of their strange courtship. She evidently had not tired of his
+extravagance, and yet I feel as puzzled by her manner as then. She rose
+and said: “I suppose you have a good deal to say to each other, and I
+will leave you by yourselves.” Turning to her husband, she added, “I
+have already spoken about the Aztec manuscript.”
+
+The word brought Enriquez to his feet again. “Ah! The little old
+nigger--you have read?” I began to understand. “My wife, my best
+friend, and the little old nigger, all in one day. Eet is perfect!”
+ Nevertheless, in spite of this ecstatic and overpowering combination,
+he hurried to take his wife's hand; kissing it, he led her to a door
+opening into another room, made her a low bow to the ground as she
+passed out, and then rejoined me.
+
+“So these are the little old niggers you spoke of in your note,” I said,
+pointing to the manuscript. “Deuce take me if I understood you!”
+
+“Ah, my leetle brother, it is YOU who have changed!” said Enriquez
+dolorously. “Is it that you no more understand American, or have the
+'big head' of the editor? Regard me! Of these Aztecs my wife have made
+study. She have pursued the little nigger to his cave, his grotto, where
+he is dead a thousand year. I have myself assist, though I like it not,
+because thees mummy, look you, Pancho, is not lively. And the mummy who
+is not dead, believe me! even the young lady mummy, you shall not take
+to your heart. But my wife”--he stopped, and kissed his hand toward the
+door whence she had flitted--“ah, SHE is wonderful! She has made the
+story of them, the peecture of them, from the life and on the instant!
+You shall take them, my leetle brother, for your journal; you shall
+announce in the big letter: 'Mooch Importance. The Aztec, He is Found.'
+'How He Look and Lif.' 'The Everlasting Nigger.' You shall sell many
+paper, and Urania shall have scoop in much spondulics and rocks.
+Hoop-la! For--you comprehend?--my wife and I have settled that she shall
+forgif her oncle; I shall forgif my father; but from them we take no
+cent, not a red, not a scad! We are independent! Of ourselves we make a
+Fourth of July. United we stand; divided we shall fall over! There you
+are! Bueno!”
+
+It was impossible to resist his wild, yet perfectly sincere,
+extravagance, his dancing black eyes and occasional flash of white teeth
+in his otherwise immovable and serious countenance. Nevertheless, I
+managed to say:--
+
+“But how about yourself, Enriquez, and this geology, you know?”
+
+His eyes twinkled. “Ah, you shall hear. But first you shall take a
+drink. I have the very old Bourbon. He is not so old as the Aztec, but,
+believe me, he is very much liflier. Attend! Hol' on!” He was already
+rummaging on a shelf, but apparently without success; then he explored
+a buffet, with no better results, and finally attacked a large drawer,
+throwing out on the floor, with his old impetuosity, a number of
+geological specimens, carefully labeled. I picked up one that had rolled
+near me. It was labeled “Conglomerate sandstone.” I picked up another:
+it had the same label.
+
+“Then you are really collecting?” I said, with astonishment.
+
+“Ciertamente,” responded Enriquez,--“what other fool shall I look? I
+shall relate of this geology when I shall have found this beast of a
+bottle. Ah, here he have hide!” He extracted from a drawer a bottle
+nearly full of spirits,--tippling was not one of Enriquez's vices. “You
+shall say 'when.' 'Ere's to our noble selfs!”
+
+When he had drunk, I picked up another fragment of his collection. It
+had the same label. “You are very rich in 'conglomerate sandstone,'” I
+said. “Where do you find it?”
+
+“In the street,” said Enriquez, with great calmness.
+
+“In the street?” I echoed.
+
+“Yes, my friend! He ees call the 'cobblestone,' also the
+'pouding-stone,' when he ees at his home in the country. He ees also
+a small 'boulder.' I pick him up; I crack him; he made three separate
+piece of conglomerate sandstone. I bring him home to my wife in my
+pocket. She rejoice; we are happy. When comes the efening, I sit down
+and make him a label; while my wife, she sit down and write of the
+Aztec. Ah, my friend, you shall say of the geology it ees a fine, a
+BEAUTIFUL study; but the study of the wife, and what shall please her,
+believe me, ees much finer! Believe your old Uncle 'Ennery every time!
+On thees question he gets there; he gets left, nevarre!”
+
+“But Professor Dobbs, your geologian, what does HE say to this frequent
+recurrence of the conglomerate sandstone period in your study?” I asked
+quickly.
+
+“He say nothing. You comprehend? He ees a profound geologian, but he
+also has the admiration excessif for my wife Urania.” He stopped to kiss
+his hand again toward the door, and lighted a cigarette. “The geologian
+would not that he should break up the happy efening of his friends
+by thees small detail. He put aside his head--so; he say, 'A leetle
+freestone, a leetle granite, now and then, for variety; they are
+building in Montgomery Street.' I take the hint, like a wink to the
+horse that has gone blind. I attach to myself part of the edifice that
+is erecting himself in Montgomery Street. I crack him; I bring him
+home. I sit again at the feet of my beautiful Urania, and I label him
+'Freestone,' 'Granite;' but I do not say 'from Parrott's Bank'--eet is
+not necessary for our happiness.”
+
+“And you do this sort of thing only because you think it pleases your
+wife?” I asked bluntly.
+
+“My friend,” rejoined Enriquez, perching himself on the back of the
+sofa, and caressing his knees as he puffed his cigarette meditatively,
+“you have ask a conundrum. Gif to me an easier one! It is of truth that
+I make much of these thing to please Urania. But I shall confess all.
+Behold, I appear to you, my leetle brother, in my camisa--my shirt! I
+blow on myself; I gif myself away.”
+
+He rose gravely from the sofa, and drew a small box from one of the
+drawers of the wardrobe. Opening it, he discovered several specimens of
+gold-bearing quartz, and one or two scales of gold. “Thees,” he said,
+“friend Pancho, is my own geology; for thees I am what you see. But I
+say nothing to Urania; for she have much disgust of mere gold,--of what
+she calls 'vulgar mining,'--and believe me, a fear of the effect of
+'speculation' upon my temperamento--you comprehend my complexion, my
+brother? Reflect upon it, Pancho! I, who am the filosofo, if that I am
+anything!” He looked at me with great levity of eye and supernatural
+gravity of demeanor. “But eet ees the jealous affection of the wife,
+my friend, for which I make play to her with the humble leetle
+pouding-stone rather than the gold quartz that affrights.”
+
+“But what do you want with them, if you have no shares in anything and
+do not speculate?” I asked.
+
+“Pardon! That ees where you slip up, my leetle friend.” He took from the
+same drawer a clasped portfolio, and unlocked it, producing half a dozen
+prospectuses and certificates of mining shares. I stood aghast as I
+recognized the names of one or two extravagant failures of the last ten
+years,--“played-out” mines that had been galvanized into deceptive life
+in London, Paris, and New York, to the grief of shareholders abroad
+and the laughter of the initiated at home. I could scarcely keep my
+equanimity. “You do not mean to say that you have any belief or interest
+in this rubbish?” I said quickly.
+
+“What you call 'rubbish,' my good Pancho, ees the rubbish that the
+American speculator have dump himself upon them in the shaft, the
+rubbish of the advertisement, of the extravagant expense, of the salary,
+of the assessment, of the 'freeze-out.' For thees, look you, is the old
+Mexican mine. My grandfather and hees father have both seen them work
+before you were born, and the American knew not there was gold in
+California.”
+
+I knew he spoke truly. One or two were original silver mines in the
+south, worked by peons and Indian slaves, a rope windlass, and a
+venerable donkey.
+
+“But those were silver mines,” I said suspiciously, “and these are gold
+specimens.”
+
+“They are from the same mother,” said the imperturbable Enriquez,--“the
+same mine. The old peons worked him for SILVER, the precious dollar that
+buy everything, that he send in the galleon to the Philippines for
+the silk and spice! THAT is good enough for HIM! For the gold he made
+nothing, even as my leetle wife Urania. And regard me here! There ees a
+proverb of my father's which say that 'it shall take a gold mine to
+work a silver mine,' so mooch more he cost. You work him, you are lost!
+Naturalmente, if you turn him round, if it take you only a silver mine
+to work a gold mine, you are gain. Thees ees logic!”
+
+The intense gravity of his face at this extraordinary deduction upset
+my own. But as I was never certain that Enriquez was not purposely
+mystifying me, with some ulterior object, I could not help saying a
+little wickedly:--
+
+“Yes, I understand all that; but how about this geologian? Will he not
+tell your wife? You know he was a great admirer of hers.”
+
+“That shall show the great intelligence of him, my Pancho. He will have
+the four S's,' especially the secreto!”
+
+There could be no serious discussion in his present mood. I gathered up
+the pages of his wife's manuscript, said lightly that, as she had the
+first claim upon my time, I should examine the Aztec material and report
+in a day or two. As I knew I had little chance in the hands of these two
+incomprehensibles together, I begged him not to call his wife, but
+to convey my adieus to her, and, in spite of his embraces and
+protestations, I managed to get out of the room. But I had scarcely
+reached the front door when I heard Enriquez's voice and his bounding
+step on the stairs. In another moment his arm was round my neck.
+
+“You must return on the instant! Mother of God! I haf forget, SHE haf
+forget, WE all haf forget! But you have not seen him!”
+
+“Seen whom?”
+
+“El nino, the baby! You comprehend, pig! The criaturica, the leetle
+child of ourselfs!”
+
+“The baby?” I said confusedly. “IS there--is there a BABY?”
+
+“You hear him?” said Enriquez, sending an appealing voice upward. “You
+hear him, Urania? You comprehend. This beast of a leetle brother demands
+if there ees one!”
+
+“I beg your pardon,” I said, hurriedly reascending the stairs. On the
+landing I met Mrs. Saltillo, but as calm, composed, and precise as
+her husband was extravagant and vehement. “It was an oversight of
+Enriquez's,” she said quietly, reentering the room with us; “and was all
+the more strange, as the child was in the room with you all the time.”
+
+She pointed to the corner of the wall, where hung what I had believed
+to be an old Indian relic. To my consternation, it WAS a bark
+“papoose-case,” occupied by a LIVING child, swathed and bandaged after
+the approved Indian fashion. It was asleep, I believe, but it opened a
+pair of bright huckleberry eyes, set in the smallest of features, that
+were like those of a carved ivory idol, and uttered a “coo” at the sound
+of its mother's voice. She stood on one side with unruffled composure,
+while Enriquez threw himself into an attitude before it, with clasped
+hands, as if it had been an image of the Holy Child. For myself, I was
+too astounded to speak; luckily, my confusion was attributed to the
+inexperience of a bachelor.
+
+“I have adopted,” said Mrs. Saltillo, with the faintest touch of
+maternal pride in her manner, “what I am convinced is the only natural
+and hygienic mode of treating the human child. It may be said to be
+a reversion to the aborigine, but I have yet to learn that it is not
+superior to our civilized custom. By these bandages the limbs of the
+infant are kept in proper position until they are strong enough to
+support the body, and such a thing as malformation is unknown. It is
+protected by its cradle, which takes the place of its incubating-shell,
+from external injury, the injudicious coddling of nurses, the so-called
+'dancings' and pernicious rockings. The supine position, as in the
+adult, is imposed only at night. By the aid of this strap it may be
+carried on long journeys, either by myself or by Enriquez, who thus
+shares with me, as he fully recognizes, its equal responsibility and
+burden.”
+
+“It--certainly does not--cry,” I stammered.
+
+“Crying,” said Mrs. Saltillo, with a curve of her pretty red lip, “is
+the protest of the child against insanitary and artificial treatment.
+In its upright, unostentatious cradle it is protected against that
+injudicious fondling and dangerous promiscuous osculation to which, as
+an infant in human arms, it is so often subjected. Above all, it is kept
+from that shameless and mortifying publicity so unjust to the weak and
+unformed animal. The child repays this consideration by a gratifying
+silence. It cannot be expected to understand our thoughts, speech, or
+actions; it cannot participate in our pleasures. Why should it be
+forced into premature contact with them, merely to feed our vanity or
+selfishness? Why should we assume our particular parental accident
+as superior to the common lot? If we do not give our offspring that
+prominence before our visitors so common to the young wife and husband,
+it is for that reason solely; and this may account for what seemed the
+forgetfulness of Enriquez in speaking of it or pointing it out to
+you. And I think his action in calling you back to see it was somewhat
+precipitate. As one does not usually introduce an unknown and inferior
+stranger without some previous introduction, he might have asked you if
+you wished to see the baby before he recalled you.”
+
+I looked from Urania's unfathomable eyes to Enriquez's impenetrable
+countenance. I might have been equal to either of them alone, but
+together they were invincible. I looked hopelessly at the baby. With
+its sharp little eyes and composed face, it certainly was a marvelous
+miniature of Enriquez. I said so.
+
+“It would be singular if it was not,” said Mrs. Saltillo dryly; “and as
+I believe it is by no means an uncommon fact in human nature, it seems
+to me strange that people should insist upon it as a discovery. It is
+an inheritance, however, that in due time progress and science will no
+doubt interrupt, to the advancement of the human race. I need not
+say that both Enriquez and myself look forward to it with confident
+tranquillity.”
+
+There was clearly nothing for me to do now but to shake hands again and
+take my leave. Yet I was so much impressed with the unreality of the
+whole scene that when I reached the front door I had a strong impulse
+to return suddenly and fall in upon them in their relaxed and natural
+attitudes. They could not keep up this pose between themselves; and I
+half expected to see their laughing faces at the window, as I glanced up
+before wending my perilous way to the street.
+
+I found Mrs. Saltillo's manuscript well written and, in the narrative
+parts, even graphic and sparkling. I suppressed some general remarks
+on the universe, and some correlative theories of existence, as
+not appertaining particularly to the Aztecs, and as not meeting any
+unquenchable thirst for information on the part of the readers of the
+“Daily Excelsior.” I even promoted my fair contributor to the position
+of having been commissioned, at great expense, to make the Mexican
+journey especially for the “Excelsior.” This, with Mrs. Saltillo's
+somewhat precise preraphaelite drawings and water-colors, vilely
+reproduced by woodcuts, gave quite a sensational air to her production,
+which, divided into parts, for two or three days filled a whole page
+of the paper. I am not aware of any particular service that it did to
+ethnology; but, as I pointed out in the editorial column, it showed that
+the people of California were not given over by material greed to the
+exclusion of intellectual research; and as it was attacked instantly
+in long communications from one or two scientific men, it thus produced
+more copy.
+
+Briefly, it was a boom for the author and the “Daily Excelsior.” I
+should add, however, that a rival newspaper intimated that it was also a
+boom for Mrs. Saitillo's HUSBAND, and called attention to the fact that
+a deserted Mexican mine, known as “El Bolero,” was described graphically
+in the Aztec article among the news, and again appeared in the
+advertising columns of the same paper. I turned somewhat indignantly
+to the file of the “Excelsior,” and, singularly enough, found in the
+elaborate prospectus of a new gold-mining company the description of the
+El Bolero mine as a QUOTATION from the Aztec article, with extraordinary
+inducements for the investment of capital in the projected working of an
+old mine. If I had had any difficulty in recognizing in the extravagant
+style the flamboyant hand of Enriquez in English writing, I might have
+read his name plainly enough displayed as president of the company. It
+was evidently the prospectus of one of the ventures he had shown me. I
+was more amused than indignant at the little trick he had played upon
+my editorial astuteness. After all, if I had thus benefited the young
+couple I was satisfied. I had not seen them since my first visit, as I
+was very busy,--my communications with Mrs. Saltillo had been carried on
+by letters and proofs,--and when I did finally call at their house, it
+was only to find that they were visiting at San Jose. I wondered whether
+the baby was still hanging on the wall, or, if he was taken with them,
+who carried him.
+
+A week later the stock of El Bolero was quoted at par. More than that,
+an incomprehensible activity had been given to all the deserted Mexican
+mines, and people began to look up scrip hitherto thrown aside as
+worthless. Whether it was one of those extraordinary fevers which
+attacked Californian speculation in the early days, or whether Enriquez
+Saltillo had infected the stock-market with his own extravagance, I
+never knew; but plans as wild, inventions as fantastic, and arguments
+as illogical as ever emanated from his own brain, were set forth “on
+'Change” with a gravity equal to his own. The most reasonable hypothesis
+was that it was the effect of the well-known fact that the Spanish
+Californian hitherto had not been a mining speculator, nor connected
+in any way with the gold production on his native soil, deeming it
+inconsistent with his patriarchal life and landed dignity, and that when
+a “son of one of the oldest Spanish families, identified with the land
+and its peculiar character for centuries, lent himself to its mineral
+exploitations,”--I beg to say that I am quoting from the advertisement
+in the “Excelsior,”--“it was a guerdon of success.” This was so far true
+that in a week Enriquez Saltillo was rich, and in a fair way to become a
+millionaire.
+
+
+It was a hot afternoon when I alighted from the stifling Wingdam coach,
+and stood upon the cool, deep veranda of the Carquinez Springs Hotel.
+After I had shaken off the dust which had lazily followed us, in our
+descent of the mountain road, like a red smoke, occasionally overflowing
+the coach windows, I went up to the room I had engaged for my brief
+holiday. I knew the place well, although I could see that the hotel
+itself had lately been redecorated and enlarged to meet the increasing
+requirements of fashion. I knew the forest of enormous redwoods where
+one might lose one's self in a five minutes' walk from the veranda. I
+knew the rocky trail that climbed the mountain to the springs, twisting
+between giant boulders. I knew the arid garden, deep in the wayside
+dust, with its hurriedly planted tropical plants, already withering in
+the dry autumn sunshine, and washed into fictitious freshness, night
+and morning by the hydraulic irrigating-hose. I knew, too, the cool,
+reposeful night winds that swept down from invisible snow-crests beyond,
+with the hanging out of monstrous stars, that too often failed to bring
+repose to the feverish guests. For the overstrained neurotic workers
+who fled hither from the baking plains of Sacramento, or from the chill
+sea-fogs of San Francisco, never lost the fierce unrest that had driven
+them here. Unaccustomed to leisure, their enforced idleness impelled
+them to seek excitement in the wildest gayeties; the bracing mountain
+air only reinvigorated them to pursue pleasure as they had pursued the
+occupations they had left behind. Their sole recreations were furious
+drives over break-neck roads; mad, scampering cavalcades through the
+sedate woods; gambling parties in private rooms, where large sums were
+lost by capitalists on leave; champagne suppers; and impromptu balls
+that lasted through the calm, reposeful night to the first rays of light
+on the distant snowline. Unimaginative men, in their temporary sojourn
+they more often outraged or dispossessed nature in her own fastnesses
+than courted her for sympathy or solitude. There were playing-cards left
+lying behind boulders, and empty champagne bottles forgotten in forest
+depths.
+
+I remembered all this when, refreshed by a bath, I leaned from the
+balcony of my room and watched the pulling up of a brake, drawn by six
+dusty, foam-bespattered horses, driven by a noted capitalist. As
+its hot, perspiring, closely veiled yet burning-faced fair occupants
+descended, in all the dazzling glory of summer toilets, and I saw the
+gentlemen consult their watches with satisfaction, and congratulate
+their triumphant driver, I knew the characteristic excitement they had
+enjoyed from a “record run,” probably for a bet, over a mountain road in
+a burning sun.
+
+“Not bad, eh? Forty-four minutes from the summit!”
+
+The voice seemed at my elbow. I turned quickly, to recognize an
+acquaintance, a young San Francisco broker, leaning from the next
+balcony to mine. But my attention was just then preoccupied by the face
+and figure, which seemed familiar to me, of a woman who was alighting
+from the brake.
+
+“Who is that?” I asked; “the straight slim woman in gray, with the white
+veil twisted round her felt hat?”
+
+“Mrs. Saltillo,” he answered; “wife of 'El Bolero' Saltillo, don't you
+know. Mighty pretty woman, if she is a little stiffish and set up.”
+
+Then I had not been mistaken! “Is Enriquez--is her husband--here?” I
+asked quickly.
+
+The man laughed. “I reckon not. This is the place for other people's
+husbands, don't you know.”
+
+Alas! I DID know; and as there flashed upon me all the miserable
+scandals and gossip connected with this reckless, frivolous caravansary,
+I felt like resenting his suggestion. But my companion's next words were
+more significant:--
+
+“Besides, if what they say is true, Saltillo wouldn't be very popular
+here.”
+
+“I don't understand,” I said quickly.
+
+“Why, after all that row he had with the El Bolero Company.”
+
+“I never heard of any row,” I said, in astonishment.
+
+The broker laughed incredulously. “Come! and YOU a newspaper man! Well,
+maybe they DID try to hush it up, and keep it out of the papers, on
+account of the stock. But it seems he got up a reg'lar shindy with the
+board, one day; called 'em thieves and swindlers, and allowed he was
+disgracing himself as a Spanish hidalgo by having anything to do with
+'em. Talked, they say, about Charles V. of Spain, or some other royal
+galoot, giving his ancestors the land in trust! Clean off his head,
+I reckon. Then shunted himself off the company, and sold out. You can
+guess he wouldn't be very popular around here, with Jim Bestley, there,”
+ pointing to the capitalist who had driven the brake, “who used to be on
+the board with him. No, sir. He was either lying low for something, or
+was off his head. Think of his throwing up a place like that!”
+
+“Nonsense!” I said indignantly. “He is mercurial, and has the quick
+impulsiveness of his race, but I believe him as sane as any who sat with
+him on the board. There must be some mistake, or you haven't got the
+whole story.” Nevertheless, I did not care to discuss an old friend
+with a mere acquaintance, and I felt secretly puzzled to account for his
+conduct, in the face of his previous cleverness in manipulating the El
+Bolero, and the undoubted fascination he had previously exercised over
+the stockholders. The story had, of course, been garbled in repetition.
+I had never before imagined what might be the effect of Enriquez's
+peculiar eccentricities upon matter-of-fact people,--I had found them
+only amusing,--and the broker's suggestion annoyed me. However, Mrs.
+Saltillo was here in the hotel, and I should, of course, meet her. Would
+she be as frank with me?
+
+I was disappointed at not finding her in the drawing-room or on the
+veranda; and the heat being still unusually oppressive, I strolled out
+toward the redwoods, hesitating for a moment in the shade before I ran
+the fiery gauntlet of the garden. To my surprise, I had scarcely passed
+the giant sentinels on its outskirts before I found that, from some
+unusual condition of the atmosphere, the cold undercurrent of air
+which generally drew through these pillared aisles was withheld that
+afternoon; it was absolutely hotter than in the open, and the wood was
+charged throughout with the acrid spices of the pine. I turned back to
+the hotel, reascended to my bedroom, and threw myself in an armchair by
+the open window. My room was near the end of a wing; the corner room at
+the end was next to mine, on the same landing. Its closed door, at right
+angles to my open one, gave upon the staircase, but was plainly visible
+from where I sat. I remembered being glad that it was shut, as it
+enabled me without offense to keep my own door open.
+
+The house was very quiet. The leaves of a catalpa, across the roadway,
+hung motionless. Somebody yawned on the veranda below. I threw away
+my half-finished cigar, and closed my eyes. I think I had not lost
+consciousness for more than a few seconds before I was awakened by the
+shaking and thrilling of the whole building. As I staggered to my feet,
+I saw the four pictures hanging against the wall swing outwardly from
+it on their cords, and my door swing back against the wall. At the same
+moment, acted upon by the same potential impulse, the door of the end
+room in the hall, opposite the stairs, also swung open. In that brief
+moment I had a glimpse of the interior of the room, of two figures, a
+man and a woman, the latter clinging to her companion in abject terror.
+It was only for an instant, for a second thrill passed through the
+house, the pictures clattered back against the wall, the door of the end
+room closed violently on its strange revelation, and my own door swung
+back also. Apprehensive of what might happen, I sprang toward it, but
+only to arrest it an inch or two before it should shut, when, as my
+experience had taught me, it might stick by the subsidence of the walls.
+But it did stick ajar, and remained firmly fixed in that position. From
+the clattering of the knob of the other door, and the sound of hurried
+voices behind it, I knew that the same thing had happened there when
+that door had fully closed.
+
+I was familiar enough with earthquakes to know that, with the second
+shock or subsidence of the earth, the immediate danger was passed, and
+so I was able to note more clearly what else was passing. There was the
+usual sudden stampede of hurrying feet, the solitary oath and scream,
+the half-hysterical laughter, and silence. Then the tumult was
+reawakened to the sound of high voices, talking all together, or the
+impatient calling of absentees in halls and corridors. Then I heard
+the quick swish of female skirts on the staircase, and one of the fair
+guests knocked impatiently at the door of the end room, still immovably
+fixed. At the first knock there was a sudden cessation of the hurried
+whisperings and turning of the doorknob.
+
+“Mrs. Saltillo, are you there? Are you frightened?” she called.
+
+“Mrs. Saltillo”! It was SHE, then, who was in the room! I drew nearer
+my door, which was still fixed ajar. Presently a voice,--Mrs. Saltillo's
+voice,--with a constrained laugh in it, came from behind the door: “Not
+a bit. I'll come down in a minute.”
+
+“Do,” persisted the would-be intruder. “It's all over now, but we're all
+going out into the garden; it's safer.”
+
+“All right,” answered Mrs. Saltillo. “Don't wait, dear. I'll follow. Run
+away, now.”
+
+The visitor, who was evidently still nervous, was glad to hurry away,
+and I heard her retreating step on the staircase. The rattling of the
+door began again, and at last it seemed to yield to a stronger pull,
+and opened sufficiently to allow Mrs. Saltillo to squeeze through. I
+withdrew behind my door. I fancied that it creaked as she passed, as if,
+noticing it ajar, she had laid an inquiring hand upon it. I waited, but
+she was not followed by any one. I wondered if I had been mistaken. I
+was going to the bell-rope to summon assistance to move my own door when
+a sudden instinct withheld me. If there was any one still in that room,
+he might come from it just as the servant answered my call, and a public
+discovery would be unavoidable. I was right. In another instant the
+figure of a man, whose face I could not discern, slipped out of the
+room, passed my door, and went stealthily down the staircase.
+
+Convinced of this, I resolved not to call public attention to my being
+in my own room at the time of the incident; so I did not summon any one,
+but, redoubling my efforts, I at last opened the door sufficiently to
+pass out, and at once joined the other guests in the garden. Already,
+with characteristic recklessness and audacity, the earthquake was
+made light of; the only dictate of prudence had resolved itself into
+a hilarious proposal to “camp out” in the woods all night, and have
+a “torch-light picnic.” Even then preparations were being made for
+carrying tents, blankets, and pillows to the adjacent redwoods; dinner
+and supper, cooked at campfires, were to be served there on stumps of
+trees and fallen logs. The convulsion of nature had been used as an
+excuse for one of the wildest freaks of extravagance that Carquinez
+Springs had ever known. Perhaps that quick sense of humor which
+dominates the American male in exigencies of this kind kept the
+extravagances from being merely bizarre and grotesque, and it was
+presently known that the hotel and its menage were to be appropriately
+burlesqued by some of the guests, who, attired as Indians, would
+personate the staff, from the oracular hotel proprietor himself down to
+the smart hotel clerk.
+
+During these arrangements I had a chance of drawing near Mrs. Saltillo.
+I fancied she gave a slight start as she recognized me; but her
+greetings were given with her usual precision. “Have you been here
+long?” she asked.
+
+“I have only just come,” I replied laughingly; “in time for the shock.”
+
+“Ah, you felt it, then? I was telling these ladies that our eminent
+geologist, Professor Dobbs, assured me that these seismic disturbances
+in California have a very remote centre, and are seldom serious.”
+
+“It must be very satisfactory to have the support of geology at such a
+moment,” I could not help saying, though I had not the slightest idea
+whose the figure was that I had seen, nor, indeed, had I recognized
+it among the guests. She did not seem to detect any significance in
+my speech, and I added: “And where is Enriquez? He would enjoy this
+proposed picnic to-night.”
+
+“Enriquez is at Salvatierra Rancho, which he lately bought from his
+cousin.”
+
+“And the baby? Surely, here is a chance for you to hang him up on a
+redwood tonight, in his cradle.”
+
+“The boy,” said Mrs. Saltillo quickly, “is no longer in his cradle; he
+has passed the pupa state, and is now free to develop his own perfected
+limbs. He is with his father. I do not approve of children being
+submitted to the indiscriminate attentions of a hotel. I am here myself
+only for that supply of ozone indicated for brain exhaustion.”
+
+She looked so pretty and prim in her gray dress, so like her old correct
+self, that I could not think of anything but her mental attitude, which
+did not, by the way, seem much like mental depression. Yet I was aware
+that I was getting no information of Enriquez's condition or affairs,
+unless the whole story told by the broker was an exaggeration. I did
+not, however, dare to ask more particularly.
+
+“You remember Professor Dobbs?” she asked abruptly.
+
+This recalled a suspicion awakened by my vision, so suddenly that I
+felt myself blushing. She did not seem to notice it, and was perfectly
+composed.
+
+“I do remember him. Is he here?”
+
+“He is; that is what makes it so particularly unfortunate for me. You
+see, after that affair of the board, and Enriquez's withdrawal, although
+Enriquez may have been a little precipitate in his energetic way, I
+naturally took my husband's part in public; for although we preserve
+our own independence inviolable, we believe in absolute confederation as
+against society.”
+
+“But what has Professor Dobbs to do with the board?” I interrupted.
+
+“The professor was scientific and geological adviser to the board, and
+it was upon some report or suggestion of his that Enriquez took issue,
+against the sentiment of the board. It was a principle affecting
+Enriquez's Spanish sense of honor.”
+
+“Do tell me all about it,” I said eagerly; “I am very anxious to know
+the truth.”
+
+“As I was not present at the time,” said Mrs. Saltillo, rebuking my
+eagerness with a gentle frigidity, “I am unable to do so. Anything else
+would be mere hearsay, and more or less ex parte. I do not approve of
+gossip.”
+
+“But what did Enriquez tell you? You surely know that.”
+
+“THAT, being purely confidential, as between husband and wife,--perhaps
+I should say partner and partner,--of course you do not expect me to
+disclose. Enough that I was satisfied with it. I should not have spoken
+to you about it at all, but that, through myself and Enriquez, you are
+an acquaintance of the professor's, and I might save you the awkwardness
+of presenting yourself with him. Otherwise, although you are a friend of
+Enriquez, it need not affect your acquaintance with the professor.”
+
+“Hang the professor!” I ejaculated. “I don't care a rap for HIM.”
+
+“Then I differ with you,” said Mrs. Saltillo, with precision. “He is
+distinctly an able man, and one cannot but miss the contact of his
+original mind and his liberal teachings.”
+
+Here she was joined by one of the ladies, and I lounged away. I dare say
+it was very mean and very illogical, but the unsatisfactory character
+of this interview made me revert again to the singular revelation I had
+seen a few hours before. I looked anxiously for Professor Dobbs; but
+when I did meet him, with an indifferent nod of recognition, I found
+I could by no means identify him with the figure of her mysterious
+companion. And why should I suspect him at all, in the face of Mrs.
+Saltillo's confessed avoidance of him? Who, then, could it have been? I
+had seen them but an instant, in the opening and the shutting of a door.
+It was merely the shadowy bulk of a man that flitted past my door,
+after all. Could I have imagined the whole thing? Were my perceptive
+faculties--just aroused from slumber, too insufficiently clear to be
+relied upon? Would I not have laughed had Urania, or even Enriquez
+himself, told me such a story?
+
+As I reentered the hotel the clerk handed me a telegram. “There's been
+a pretty big shake all over the country,” he said eagerly. “Everybody
+is getting news and inquiries from their friends. Anything fresh?” He
+paused interrogatively as I tore open the envelope. The dispatch had
+been redirected from the office of the “Daily Excelsior.” It was dated,
+“Salvatierra Rancho,” and contained a single line: “Come and see your
+old uncle 'Ennery.”
+
+There was nothing in the wording of the message that was unlike
+Enriquez's usual light-hearted levity, but the fact that he should have
+TELEGRAPHED it to me struck me uneasily. That I should have received it
+at the hotel where his wife and Professor Dobbs were both staying, and
+where I had had such a singular experience, seemed to me more than a
+mere coincidence. An instinct that the message was something personal
+to Enriquez and myself kept me from imparting it to Mrs. Saltillo. After
+worrying half the night in our bizarre camp in the redwoods, in the
+midst of a restless festivity which was scarcely the repose I had been
+seeking at Carquinez Springs, I resolved to leave the next day for
+Salvatierra Rancho. I remembered the rancho,--a low, golden-brown,
+adobe-walled quadrangle, sleeping like some monstrous ruminant in a
+hollow of the Contra Costa Range. I recalled, in the midst of this noisy
+picnic, the slumberous coolness of its long corridors and soundless
+courtyard, and hailed it as a relief. The telegram was a sufficient
+excuse for my abrupt departure. In the morning I left, but without again
+seeing either Mrs. Saltillo or the professor.
+
+It was late the next afternoon when I rode through the canada that led
+to the rancho. I confess my thoughts were somewhat gloomy, in spite of
+my escape from the noisy hotel; but this was due to the sombre scenery
+through which I had just ridden, and the monotonous russet of the
+leagues of wild oats. As I approached the rancho, I saw that Enriquez
+had made no attempt to modernize the old casa, and that even the garden
+was left in its lawless native luxuriance, while the rude tiled sheds
+near the walled corral contained the old farming implements, unchanged
+for a century, even to the ox-carts, the wheels of which were made of a
+single block of wood. A few peons, in striped shirts and velvet
+jackets, were sunning themselves against a wall, and near them hung
+a half-drained pellejo, or goatskin water-bag. The air of absolute
+shiftlessness must have been repellent to Mrs. Saltillo's orderly
+precision, and for a moment I pitied her. But it was equally
+inconsistent with Enriquez's enthusiastic ideas of American progress,
+and the extravagant designs he had often imparted to me of the
+improvements he would make when he had a fortune. I was feeling uneasy
+again, when I suddenly heard the rapid clack of unshod hoofs on a rocky
+trail that joined my own. At the same instant a horseman dashed past me
+at full speed. I had barely time to swerve my own horse aside to avoid a
+collision, yet in that brief moment I recognized the figure of Enriquez.
+But his face I should have scarcely known. It was hard and fixed. His
+upper lip and thin, penciled mustache were drawn up over his teeth,
+which were like a white gash in his dark face. He turned into the
+courtyard of the rancho. I put spurs to my horse, and followed, in
+nervous expectation. He turned in his saddle as I entered. But the next
+moment he bounded from his horse, and, before I could dismount, flew to
+my side and absolutely lifted me from the saddle to embrace me. It was
+the old Enriquez again; his face seemed to have utterly changed in that
+brief moment.
+
+“This is all very well, old chap,” I said; “but do you know that you
+nearly ran me down, just now, with that infernal half-broken mustang? Do
+you usually charge the casa at that speed?”
+
+“Pardon, my leetle brother! But here you shall slip up. The mustang is
+not HALF-broken; he is not broke at all! Look at his hoof--never have
+a shoe been there. For myself--attend me! When I ride alone, I
+think mooch; when I think mooch I think fast; my idea he go like a
+cannon-ball! Consequent, if I ride not thees horse like the cannon-ball,
+my thought HE arrive first, and where are you? You get left! Believe
+me that I fly thees horse, thees old Mexican plug, and your de' uncle
+'Ennery and his leetle old idea arrive all the same time, and on the
+instant.”
+
+It WAS the old Enriquez! I perfectly understood his extravagant speech
+and illustration, and yet for the first time I wondered if others did.
+
+“Tak'-a-drink!” he said, all in one word. “You shall possess the old
+Bourbon or the rhum from the Santa Cruz! Name your poison, gentlemen!”
+
+He had already dragged me up the steps from the patio to the veranda,
+and seated me before a small round table still covered with the
+chocolate equipage of the morning. A little dried-up old Indian woman
+took it away, and brought the spirits and glasses.
+
+“Mirar the leetle old one!” said Enriquez, with unflinching gravity.
+“Consider her, Pancho, to the bloosh! She is not truly an Aztec, but
+she is of years one hundred and one, and LIFS! Possibly she haf not the
+beauty which ravishes, which devastates. But she shall attent you to the
+hot water, to the bath. Thus shall you be protect, my leetle brother,
+from scandal.”
+
+“Enriquez,” I burst out suddenly, “tell me about yourself. Why did you
+leave the El Bolero board? What was the row about?”
+
+Enriquez's eyes for a moment glittered; then they danced as before.
+
+“Ah,” he said, “you have heard?”
+
+“Something; but I want to know the truth from you.”
+
+He lighted a cigarette, lifted himself backward into a grass hammock, on
+which he sat, swinging his feet. Then, pointing to another hammock, he
+said: “Tranquillize yourself there. I will relate; but, truly, it ees
+nothing.”
+
+He took a long pull at his cigarette, and for a few moments
+seemed quietly to exude smoke from his eyes, ears, nose, even his
+finger-ends--everywhere, in fact, but his mouth. That and his mustache
+remained fixed. Then he said slowly, flicking away the ashes with his
+little finger:--
+
+“First you understand, friend Pancho, that I make no row. The other
+themself make the row, the shindig. They make the dance, the howl, the
+snap of the finger, the oath, the 'Helen blazes,' the 'Wot the devil,'
+the 'That be d--d,' the bad language; they themselves finger the
+revolver, advance the bowie-knife, throw off the coat, square off, and
+say 'Come on.' I remain as you see me now, little brother--tranquil.”
+ He lighted another cigarette, made his position more comfortable in the
+hammock, and resumed: “The Professor Dobbs, who is the geologian of the
+company, made a report for which he got two thousand dollar. But thees
+report--look you, friend Pancho--he is not good for the mine. For in the
+hole in the ground the Professor Dobbs have found a 'hoss.'”
+
+“A what?” I asked.
+
+“A hoss,” repeated Enriquez, with infinite gravity. “But not, leetle
+Pancho, the hoss that run, the hoss that buck-jump, but what the miner
+call a 'hoss,' a something that rear up in the vein and stop him. You
+pick around the hoss; you pick under him; sometimes you find the vein,
+sometimes you do not. The hoss rear up, and remain! Eet ees not good for
+the mine. The board say, 'D--- the hoss!' 'Get rid of the hoss.' 'Chuck
+out the hoss.' Then they talk together, and one say to the Professor
+Dobbs: 'Eef you cannot thees hoss remove from the mine, you can take
+him out of the report.' He look to me, thees professor. I see nothing; I
+remain tranquil. Then the board say: 'Thees report with the hoss in
+him is worth two thousand dollar, but WITHOUT the hoss he is worth five
+thousand dollar. For the stockholder is frighted of the rearing hoss. It
+is of a necessity that the stockholder should remain tranquil. Without
+the hoss the report is good; the stock shall errise; the director
+shall sell out, and leave the stockholder the hoss to play with.' The
+professor he say, 'Al-right;' he scratch out the hoss, sign his name,
+and get a check for three thousand dollar.”
+
+“Then I errise--so!” He got up from the hammock, suiting the action
+to the word, and during the rest of his narrative, I honestly believe,
+assumed the same attitude and deliberate intonation he had exhibited at
+the board. I could even fancy I saw the reckless, cynical faces of
+his brother directors turned upon his grim, impassive features. “I am
+tranquil. I smoke my cigarette. I say that for three hundred year my
+family have held the land of thees mine; that it pass from father to
+son, and from son to son; it pass by gift, it pass by grant, but that
+NEVARRE THERE PASS A LIE WITH IT! I say it was a gift by a Spanish
+Christian king to a Christian hidalgo for the spread of the gospel, and
+not for the cheat and the swindle! I say that this mine was worked
+by the slave, and by the mule, by the ass, but never by the cheat and
+swindler. I say that if they have struck the hoss in the mine, they have
+struck a hoss IN THE LAND, a Spanish hoss; a hoss that have no bridle
+worth five thousand dollar in his mouth, but a hoss to rear, and a
+hoss that cannot be struck out by a Yankee geologian; and that hoss is
+Enriquez Saltillo!”
+
+He paused, and laid aside his cigarette.
+
+“Then they say, 'Dry up,' and 'Sell out;' and the great bankers say,
+'Name your own price for your stock, and resign.' And I say, 'There is
+not enough gold in your bank, in your San Francisco, in the mines of
+California, that shall buy a Spanish gentleman. When I leave, I leave
+the stock at my back; I shall take it, nevarre! Then the banker he say,
+'And you will go and blab, I suppose?' And then, Pancho, I smile, I
+pick up my mustache--so! and I say: 'Pardon, senor, you haf mistake, The
+Saltillo haf for three hundred year no stain, no blot upon him. Eet is
+not now--the last of the race--who shall confess that he haf sit at a
+board of disgrace and dishonor!' And then it is that the band begin to
+play, and the animals stand on their hind leg and waltz, and behold, the
+row he haf begin!”
+
+I ran over to him, and fairly hugged him. But he put me aside with
+a gentle and philosophical calm. “Ah, eet is nothing, Pancho. It is,
+believe me, all the same a hundred years to come, and where are you,
+then? The earth he turn round, and then come el temblor, the earthquake,
+and there you are! Bah! eet is not of the board that I have asked you
+to come; it is something else I would tell you. Go and wash yourself
+of thees journey, my leetle brother, as I have”--looking at his narrow,
+brown, well-bred hands--“wash myself of the board. Be very careful of
+the leetle old woman, Pancho; do not wink to her of the eye! Consider,
+my leetle brother, for one hundred and one year he haf been as a nun, a
+saint! Disturb not her tranquillity.”
+
+Yes, it was the old Enriquez; but he seemed graver,--if I could use that
+word of one of such persistent gravity; only his gravity heretofore had
+suggested a certain irony rather than a melancholy which I now fancied I
+detected. And what was this “something else” he was to “tell me later”?
+Did it refer to Mrs. Saltillo? I had purposely waited for him to speak
+of her, before I should say anything of my visit to Carquinez Springs.
+I hurried through my ablutions in the hot water, brought in a bronze jar
+on the head of the centenarian handmaid; and even while I was smiling
+over Enriquez's caution regarding this aged Ruth, I felt I was getting
+nervous to hear his news.
+
+I found him in his sitting-room, or study,--a long, low apartment with
+small, deep windows like embrasures in the outer adobe wall, but glazed
+in lightly upon the veranda. He was sitting quite abstractedly, with a
+pen in his hand, before a table, on which a number of sealed envelopes
+were lying. He looked SO formal and methodical for Enriquez.
+
+“You like the old casa, Pancho?” he said in reply to my praise of its
+studious and monastic gloom. “Well, my leetle brother, some day that is
+fair--who knows?--it may be at your disposicion; not of our politeness,
+but of a truth, friend Pancho. For, if I leave it to my wife”--it was
+the first time he had spoken of her--“for my leetle child,” he added
+quickly, “I shall put in a bond, an obligacion, that my friend Pancho
+shall come and go as he will.”
+
+“The Saltillos are a long-lived race,” I laughed. “I shall be a
+gray-haired man, with a house and family of my own by that time.” But I
+did not like the way he had spoken.
+
+“Quien sabe?” he only said, dismissing the question with the national
+gesture. After a moment he added: “I shall tell you something that is
+strrange, so strrange that you shall say, like the banker say, 'Thees
+Enriquez, he ees off his head; he ees a crank, a lunatico;' but it ees a
+FACT; believe me, I have said!”
+
+He rose, and, going to the end of the room, opened a door. It showed
+a pretty little room, femininely arranged in Mrs. Saltillo's refined
+taste. “Eet is pretty; eet is the room of my wife. Bueno! attend me
+now.” He closed the door, and walked back to the table. “I have sit here
+and write when the earthquake arrive. I have feel the shock, the grind
+of the walls on themselves, the tremor, the stagger, and--that--door--he
+swing open!”
+
+“The door?” I said, with a smile that I felt was ghastly.
+
+“Comprehend me,” he said quickly; “it ees not THAT which ees strrange.
+The wall lift, the lock slip, the door he fell open; it is frequent; it
+comes so ever when the earthquake come. But eet is not my wife's room
+I see; it is ANOTHER ROOM, a room I know not. My wife Urania, she stand
+there, of a fear, of a tremble; she grasp, she cling to someone. The
+earth shake again; the door shut. I jump from my table; I shake and
+tumble to the door. I fling him open. Maravilloso! it is the room of my
+wife again. She is NOT there; it is empty; it is nothing!”
+
+I felt myself turning hot and cold by turns. I was horrified, and--and I
+blundered. “And who was the other figure?” I gasped.
+
+“Who?” repeated Enriquez, with a pause, a fixed look at me, and a
+sublime gesture. “Who SHOULD it be, but myself, Enriquez Saltillo?”
+
+A terrible premonition that this was a chivalrous LIE, that it was NOT
+himself he had seen, but that our two visions were identical, came upon
+me. “After all,” I said, with a fixed smile, “if you could imagine you
+saw your wife, you could easily imagine you saw yourself too. In the
+shock of the moment you thought of HER naturally, for then she would as
+naturally seek your protection. You have written for news of her?”
+
+“No,” said Enriquez quietly.
+
+“No?” I repeated amazedly.
+
+“You understand, Pancho! Eef it was the trick of my eyes, why should
+I affright her for the thing that is not? If it is the truth, and it
+arrive to ME, as a warning, why shall I affright her before it come?”
+
+“Before WHAT comes? What is it a warning of?” I asked impetuously.
+
+“That we shall be separated! That I go, and she do not.”
+
+To my surprise, his dancing eyes had a slight film over them. “I don't
+understand you,” I said awkwardly.
+
+“Your head is not of a level, my Pancho. Thees earthquake he remain for
+only ten seconds, and he fling open the door. If he remain for twenty
+seconds, he fling open the wall, the hoose toomble, and your friend
+Enriquez is feenish.”
+
+“Nonsense!” I said. “Professor--I mean the geologists--say that the
+centre of disturbance of these Californian earthquakes is some far-away
+point in the Pacific and there never will be any serious convulsions
+here.”
+
+“Ah, the geologist,” said Enriquez gravely, “understand the hoss that
+rear in the mine, and the five thousand dollar, believe me, no more.
+He haf lif here three year. My family haf lif here three hundred. My
+grandfather saw the earth swallow the church of San Juan Baptista.”
+
+I laughed, until, looking up, I was shocked to see for the first time
+that his dancing eyes were moist and shining. But almost instantly he
+jumped up, and declared that I had not seen the garden and the corral,
+and, linking his arm in mine, swept me like a whirlwind into the patio.
+For an hour or two he was in his old invincible spirits. I was glad
+I had said nothing of my visit to Carquinez Springs and of seeing his
+wife; I determined to avoid it as long as possible; and as he did not
+again refer to her, except in the past, it was not difficult. At last
+he infected me with his extravagance, and for a while I forgot even the
+strangeness of his conduct and his confidences. We walked and talked
+together as of old. I understood and enjoyed him perfectly, and it
+was not strange that in the end I began to believe that this strange
+revelation was a bit of his extravagant acting, got up to amuse me. The
+coincidence of his story with my own experience was not, after all,
+such a wonderful thing, considering what must have been the nervous
+and mental disturbance produced by the earthquake. We dined together,
+attended only by Pedro, an old half-caste body-servant. It was easy to
+see that the household was carried on economically, and, from a word
+or two casually dropped by Enriquez, it appeared that the rancho and
+a small sum of money were all that he retained from his former fortune
+when he left the El Bolero. The stock he kept intact, refusing to take
+the dividend upon it until that collapse of the company should occur
+which he confidently predicted, when he would make good the swindled
+stockholders. I had no reason to doubt his perfect faith in this.
+
+The next morning we were up early for a breezy gallop over the three
+square miles of Enriquez's estate. I was astounded, when I descended to
+the patio, to find Enriquez already mounted, and carrying before him,
+astride of the horn of his saddle, a small child,--the identical papoose
+of my memorable first visit. But the boy was no longer swathed and
+bandaged, although, for security, his plump little body was engirt by
+the same sash that encircled his father's own waist. I felt a stirring
+of self-reproach; I had forgotten all about him! To my suggestion
+that the exercise might be fatiguing to him, Enriquez shrugged his
+shoulders:--
+
+“Believe me, no! He is ever with me when I go on the pasear. He is not
+too yonge. For he shall learn 'to rride, to shoot, and to speak the
+truth,' even as the Persian chile. Eet ees all I can gif to him.”
+
+Nevertheless, I think the boy enjoyed it, and I knew he was safe with
+such an accomplished horseman as his father. Indeed, it was a fine sight
+to see them both careering over the broad plain, Enriquez with jingling
+spurs and whirling riata, and the boy, with a face as composed as his
+father's, and his tiny hand grasping the end of the flapping rein with
+a touch scarcely lighter than the skillful rider's own. It was a lovely
+morning; though warm and still, there was a faint haze--a rare thing in
+that climate--on the distant range. The sun-baked soil, arid and thirsty
+from the long summer drought, and cracked into long fissures, broke
+into puffs of dust, with a slight detonation like a pistol-shot, at each
+stroke of our pounding hoofs. Suddenly my horse swerved in full gallop,
+almost lost his footing, “broke,” and halted with braced fore feet,
+trembling in every limb. I heard a shout from Enriquez at the same
+instant, and saw that he too had halted about a hundred paces from me,
+with his hand uplifted in warning, and between us a long chasm in the
+dry earth, extending across the whole field. But the trembling of the
+horse continued until it communicated itself to me. I was shaking,
+too, and, looking about for the cause, when I beheld the most weird and
+remarkable spectacle I had ever witnessed. The whole llano, or plain,
+stretching to the horizon-line, was DISTINCTLY UNDULATING! The faint
+haze of the hills was repeated over its surface, as if a dust had arisen
+from some grinding displacement of the soil. I threw myself from my
+horse, but the next moment was fain to cling to him, as I felt the
+thrill under my very feet. Then there was a pause, and I lifted my
+head to look for Enriquez. He was nowhere to be seen! With a terrible
+recollection of the fissure that had yawned between us, I sprang to the
+saddle again, and spurred the frightened beast toward that point. BUT
+IT WAS GONE, TOO! I rode backward and forward repeatedly along the line
+where I had seen it only a moment before. The plain lay compact and
+uninterrupted, without a crack or fissure. The dusty haze that had
+arisen had passed as mysteriously away; the clear outline of the valley
+returned; the great field was empty!
+
+Presently I was aware of the sound of galloping hoofs. I remembered
+then--what I had at first forgotten--that a few moments before we had
+crossed an arroyo, or dried bed of a stream, depressed below the level
+of the field. How foolish that I had not remembered! He had evidently
+sought that refuge; there were his returning hoofs. I galloped toward
+it, but only to meet a frightened vaquero, who had taken that avenue of
+escape to the rancho.
+
+“Did you see Don Enriquez?” I asked impatiently.
+
+I saw that the man's terror was extreme, and his eyes were staring in
+their sockets. He hastily crossed himself:--
+
+“Ah, God, yes!”
+
+“Where is he?” I demanded.
+
+“Gone!”
+
+“Where?”
+
+He looked at me with staring, vacant eyes, and, pointing to the ground,
+said in Spanish: “He has returned to the land of his fathers!”
+
+We searched for him that day and the next, when the country was aroused
+and his neighbors joined in a quest that proved useless. Neither he
+nor his innocent burden was ever seen again of men. Whether he had been
+engulfed by mischance in some unsuspected yawning chasm in that brief
+moment, or had fulfilled his own prophecy by deliberately erasing
+himself for some purpose known only to himself, no one ever knew. His
+country-people shook their heads and said “it was like a Saltillo.” And
+the few among his retainers who knew him and loved him, whispered
+still more ominously: “He will yet return to his land to confound the
+Americanos.”
+
+Yet the widow of Enriquez did NOT marry Professor Dobbs. But she too
+disappeared from California, and years afterward I was told that she was
+well known to the ingenuous Parisians as the usual wealthy widow “from
+South America.”
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Stories in Light and Shadow, by Bret Harte
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