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diff --git a/2597-h/2597-h.htm b/2597-h/2597-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..421f613 --- /dev/null +++ b/2597-h/2597-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5258 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Mrs. Skaggs's Husbands, by Bret Harte + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's Mrs. Skaggs's Husbands and Other Stories, 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: Mrs. Skaggs's Husbands and Other Stories + +Author: Bret Harte + +Release Date: May 21, 2006 [EBook #2597] +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MRS. SKAGG'S HUSBANDS *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Bret Harte + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> MR THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE CHRISTMAS GIFT THAT CAME TO RUPERT. + </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART I—WEST. + </h2> + <p> + The sun was rising in the foot-hills. But for an hour the black mass of + Sierra eastward of Angel's had been outlined with fire, and the + conventional morning had come two hours before with the down coach from + Placerville. The dry, cold, dewless California night still lingered in the + long canyons and folded skirts of Table Mountain. Even on the mountain + road the air was still sharp, and that urgent necessity for something to + keep out the chill, which sent the barkeeper sleepily among his bottles + and wineglasses at the station, obtained all along the road. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it might be said that the first stir of life was in the bar-rooms. + A few birds twittered in the sycamores at the roadside, but long before + that glasses had clicked and bottles gurgled in the saloon of the Mansion + House. This was still lit by a dissipated-looking hanging-lamp, which was + evidently the worse for having been up all night, and bore a singular + resemblance to a faded reveller of Angel's, who even then sputtered and + flickered in HIS socket in an arm-chair below it,—a resemblance so + plain that when the first level sunbeam pierced the window-pane, the + barkeeper, moved by a sentiment of consistency and compassion, put them + both out together. + </p> + <p> + Then the sun came up haughtily. When it had passed the eastern ridge it + began, after its habit, to lord it over Angel's, sending the thermometer + up twenty degrees in as many minutes, driving the mules to the sparse + shade of corrals and fences, making the red dust incandescent, and + renewing its old imperious aggression on the spiked bosses of the convex + shield of pines that defended Table Mountain. Thither by nine o'clock all + coolness had retreated, and the “outsides” of the up stage plunged their + hot faces in its aromatic shadows as in water. + </p> + <p> + It was the custom of the driver of the Wingdam coach to whip up his horses + and enter Angel's at that remarkable pace which the woodcuts in the hotel + bar-room represented to credulous humanity as the usual rate of speed of + that conveyance. At such times the habitual expression of disdainful + reticence and lazy official severity which he wore on the box became + intensified as the loungers gathered about the vehicle, and only the + boldest ventured to address him. It was the Hon. Judge Beeswinger, Member + of Assembly, who to-day presumed, perhaps rashly, on the strength of his + official position. + </p> + <p> + “Any political news from below, Bill?” he asked, as the latter slowly + descended from his lofty perch, without, however, any perceptible coming + down of mien or manner. + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” said Bill, with deliberate gravity. “The President o' the + United States hezn't bin hisself sens you refoosed that seat in the + Cabinet. The ginral feelin' in perlitical circles is one o' regret.” + </p> + <p> + Irony, even of this outrageous quality, was too common in Angel's to + excite either a smile or a frown. Bill slowly entered the bar-room during + a dry, dead silence, in which only a faint spirit of emulation survived. + </p> + <p> + “Ye didn't bring up that agint o' Rothschild's this trip?” asked the + barkeeper, slowly, by way of vague contribution to the prevailing tone of + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “No,” responded Bill, with thoughtful exactitude. “He said he couldn't + look inter that claim o' Johnson's without first consultin' the Bank o' + England.” + </p> + <p> + The Mr. Johnson here alluded to being present as the faded reveller the + barkeeper had lately put out, and as the alleged claim notoriously + possessed no attractions whatever to capitalists, expectation naturally + looked to him for some response to this evident challenge. He did so by + simply stating that he would “take sugar” in his, and by walking + unsteadily toward the bar, as if accepting a festive invitation. To the + credit of Bill be it recorded that he did not attempt to correct the + mistake, but gravely touched glasses with him, and after saying “Here's + another nail in your coffin,”—a cheerful sentiment, to which “And + the hair all off your head,” was playfully added by the others,—he + threw off his liquor with a single dexterous movement of head and elbow, + and stood refreshed. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, old major!” said Bill, suddenly setting down his glass. “Are YOU + there?” + </p> + <p> + It was a boy, who, becoming bashfully conscious that this epithet was + addressed to him, retreated sideways to the doorway, where he stood + beating his hat against the door-post with an assumption of indifference + that his downcast but mirthful dark eyes and reddening cheek scarcely bore + out. Perhaps it was owing to his size, perhaps it was to a certain + cherubic outline of face and figure, perhaps to a peculiar trustfulness of + expression, that he did not look half his age, which was really fourteen. + </p> + <p> + Everybody in Angel's knew the boy. Either under the venerable title + bestowed by Bill, or as “Tom Islington,” after his adopted father, his was + a familiar presence in the settlement, and the theme of much local + criticism and comment. His waywardness, indolence, and unaccountable + amiability—a quality at once suspicious and gratuitous in a pioneer + community like Angel's—had often been the subject of fierce + discussion. A large and reputable majority believed him destined for the + gallows; a minority not quite so reputable enjoyed his presence without + troubling themselves much about his future; to one or two the evil + predictions of the majority possessed neither novelty nor terror. + </p> + <p> + “Anything for me, Bill?” asked the boy, half mechanically, with the air of + repeating some jocular formulary perfectly understood by Bill. + </p> + <p> + “Anythin' for you!” echoed Bill, with an overacted severity equally well + understood by Tommy,—“anythin' for you? No! And it's my opinion + there won't be anythin' for you ez long ez you hang around bar-rooms and + spend your valooable time with loafers and bummers. Git!” + </p> + <p> + The reproof was accompanied by a suitable exaggeration of gesture (Bill + had seized a decanter) before which the boy retreated still + good-humoredly. Bill followed him to the door. “Dern my skin, if he hezn't + gone off with that bummer Johnson,” he added, as he looked down the road. + </p> + <p> + “What's he expectin', Bill?” asked the barkeeper. + </p> + <p> + “A letter from his aunt. Reckon he'll hev to take it out in expectin'. + Likely they're glad to get shut o' him.” + </p> + <p> + “He's leadin' a shiftless, idle life here,” interposed the Member of + Assembly. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Bill, who never allowed any one but himself to abuse his + protege, “seein' he ain't expectin' no offis from the hands of an + enlightened constitooency, it IS rayther a shiftless life.” After + delivering this Parthian arrow with a gratuitous twanging of the bow to + indicate its offensive personality, Bill winked at the barkeeper, slowly + resumed a pair of immense, bulgy buckskin gloves, which gave his fingers + the appearance of being painfully sore and bandaged, strode to the door + without looking at anybody, called out, “All aboard,” with a perfunctory + air of supreme indifference whether the invitation was heeded, remounted + his box, and drove stolidly away. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was well that he did so, for the conversation at once assumed a + disrespectful attitude toward Tom and his relatives. It was more than + intimated that Tom's alleged aunt was none other than Tom's real mother, + while it was also asserted that Tom's alleged uncle did not himself + participate in this intimate relationship to the boy to an extent which + the fastidious taste of Angel's deemed moral and necessary. Popular + opinion also believed that Islington, the adopted father, who received a + certain stipend ostensibly for the boy's support, retained it as a reward + for his reticence regarding these facts. “He ain't ruinin' hisself by + wastin' it on Tom,” said the barkeeper, who possibly possessed positive + knowledge of much of Islington's disbursements. But at this point + exhausted nature languished among some of the debaters, and he turned from + the frivolity of conversation to his severer professional duties. + </p> + <p> + It was also well that Bill's momentary attitude of didactic propriety was + not further excited by the subsequent conduct of his protege. For by this + time Tom, half supporting the unstable Johnson, who developed a tendency + to occasionally dash across the glaring road, but checked himself mid way + each time, reached the corral which adjoined the Mansion House. At its + farther extremity was a pump and horse-trough. Here, without a word being + spoken, but evidently in obedience to some habitual custom, Tom led his + companion. With the boy's assistance, Johnson removed his coat and + neckcloth, turned back the collar of his shirt, and gravely placed his + head beneath the pump-spout. With equal gravity and deliberation, Tom took + his place at the handle. For a few moments only the splashing of water and + regular strokes of the pump broke the solemnly ludicrous silence. Then + there was a pause in which Johnson put his hands to his dripping head, + felt of it critically as if it belonged to somebody else, and raised his + eyes to his companion. “That ought to fetch IT,” said Tom, in answer to + the look. “Ef it don't,” replied Johnson, doggedly, with an air of + relieving himself of all further responsibility in the matter, “it's got + to, thet's all!” + </p> + <p> + If “it” referred to some change in the physiognomy of Johnson, “it” had + probably been “fetched” by the process just indicated. The head that went + under the pump was large, and clothed with bushy, uncertain-colored hair; + the face was flushed, puffy, and expressionless, the eyes injected and + full. The head that came out from under the pump was of smaller size and + different shape, the hair straight, dark, and sleek, the face pale and + hollow-cheeked, the eyes bright and restless. In the haggard, nervous + ascetic that rose from the horse-trough there was very little trace of the + Bacchus that had bowed there a moment before. Familiar as Tom must have + been with the spectacle, he could not help looking inquiringly at the + trough, as if expecting to see some traces of the previous Johnson in its + shallow depths. + </p> + <p> + A narrow strip of willow, alder, and buckeye—a mere dusty, ravelled + fringe of the green mantle that swept the high shoulders of Table Mountain—lapped + the edge of the corral. The silent pair were quick to avail themselves of + even its scant shelter from the overpowering sun. They had not proceeded + far, before Johnson, who was walking quite rapidly in advance, suddenly + brought himself up, and turned to his companion with an interrogative + “Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't speak,” said Tommy, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Who said you spoke?” said Johnson, with a quick look of cunning. “In + course you didn't speak, and I didn't speak, neither. Nobody spoke. Wot + makes you think you spoke?” he continued, peering curiously into Tommy's + eyes. + </p> + <p> + The smile which habitually shone there quickly vanished as the boy stepped + quietly to his companion's side, and took his arm without a word. + </p> + <p> + “In course you didn't speak, Tommy,” said Johnson, deprecatingly. “You + ain't a boy to go for to play an ole soaker like me. That's wot I like you + for. Thet's wot I seed in you from the first. I sez, 'Thet 'ere boy ain't + goin' to play you, Johnson! You can go your whole pile on him, when you + can't trust even a bar-keep.' Thet's wot I said. Eh?” + </p> + <p> + This time Tommy prudently took no notice of the interrogation, and Johnson + went on: “Ef I was to ask you another question, you wouldn't go to play me + neither,—would you, Tommy?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Ef I was to ask you,” continued Johnson, without heeding the reply, but + with a growing anxiety of eye and a nervous twitching of his lips,—“ef + I was to ask you, fur instance, ef that was a jackass rabbit thet jest + passed,—eh?—you'd say it was or was not, ez the case may be. + You wouldn't play the ole man on thet?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Tommy, quietly, “it WAS a jackass rabbit.” + </p> + <p> + “Ef I was to ask you,” continued Johnson, “ef it wore, say, fur instance, + a green hat with yaller ribbons, you wouldn't play me, and say it did, + onless,”—he added, with intensified cunning,—“onless it DID?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Tommy, “of course I wouldn't; but then, you see, IT DID.” + </p> + <p> + “It did?” + </p> + <p> + “It did!” repeated Tommy, stoutly; “a green hat with yellow ribbons—and—and—a + red rosette.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't get to see the ros-ette,” said Johnson, with slow and + conscientious deliberation, yet with an evident sense of relief; “but that + ain't sayin' it warn't there, you know. Eh?” + </p> + <p> + Tommy glanced quietly at his companion. There were great beads of + perspiration on his ashen-gray forehead and on the ends of his lank hair; + the hand which twitched spasmodically in his was cold and clammy, the + other, which was free, had a vague, purposeless, jerky activity, as if + attached to some deranged mechanism. Without any apparent concern in these + phenomena, Tommy halted, and, seating himself on a log, motioned his + companion to a place beside him. Johnson obeyed without a word. Slight as + was the act, perhaps no other incident of their singular companionship + indicated as completely the dominance of this careless, half-effeminate, + but self-possessed boy over this doggedly self-willed, abnormally excited + man. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't the square thing,” said Johnson, after a pause, with a laugh + that was neither mirthful nor musical, and frightened away a lizard that + had been regarding the pair with breathless suspense,—“it ain't the + square thing for jackass rabbits to wear hats, Tommy,—is it, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Tommy, with unmoved composure, “sometimes they do and + sometimes they don't. Animals are mighty queer.” And here Tommy went off + in an animated, but, I regret to say, utterly untruthful and untrustworthy + account of the habits of California fauna, until he was interrupted by + Johnson. + </p> + <p> + “And snakes, eh, Tommy?” said the man, with an abstracted air, gazing + intently on the ground before him. + </p> + <p> + “And snakes,” said Tommy; “but they don't bite, at least not that kind you + see. There!—don't move, Uncle Ben, don't move; they're gone now. And + it's about time you took your dose.” + </p> + <p> + Johnson had hurriedly risen as if to leap upon the log, but Tommy had as + quickly caught his arm with one hand while he drew a bottle from his + pocket with the other. Johnson paused, and eyed the bottle. “Ef you say + so, my boy,” he faltered, as his fingers closed nervously around it; “say + 'when,' then.” He raised the bottle to his lips and took a long draught, + the boy regarding him critically. “When,” said Tommy, suddenly. Johnson + started, flushed, and returned the bottle quickly. But the color that had + risen to his cheek stayed there, his eye grew less restless, and as they + moved away again, the hand that rested on Tommy's shoulder was steadier. + </p> + <p> + Their way lay along the flank of Table Mountain,—a wandering trail + through a tangled solitude that might have seemed virgin and unbroken but + for a few oyster-cans, yeast-powder tins, and empty bottles that had been + apparently stranded by the “first low wash” of pioneer waves. On the + ragged trunk of an enormous pine hung a few tufts of gray hair caught from + a passing grizzly, but in strange juxtaposition at its foot lay an empty + bottle of incomparable bitters,—the chef-d'oeuvre of a hygienic + civilization, and blazoned with the arms of an all-healing republic. The + head of a rattlesnake peered from a case that had contained tobacco, which + was still brightly placarded with the high-colored effigy of a popular + danseuse. And a little beyond this the soil was broken and fissured, there + was a confused mass of roughly hewn timber, a straggling line of sluicing, + a heap of gravel and dirt, a rude cabin, and the claim of Johnson. + </p> + <p> + Except for the rudest purposes of shelter from rain and cold, the cabin + possessed but little advantage over the simple savagery of surrounding + nature. It had all the practical directness of the habitation of some + animal, without its comfort or picturesque quality; the very birds that + haunted it for food must have felt their own superiority as architects. It + was inconceivably dirty, even with its scant capacity for accretion; it + was singularly stale, even in its newness and freshness of material. + Unspeakably dreary as it was in shadow, the sunlight visited it in a + blind, aching, purposeless way, as if despairing of mellowing its outlines + or of even tanning it into color. + </p> + <p> + The claim worked by Johnson in his intervals of sobriety was represented + by half a dozen rude openings in the mountain-side, with the heaped-up + debris of rock and gravel before the mouth of each. They gave very little + evidence of engineering skill or constructive purpose, or indeed showed + anything but the vague, successively abandoned essays of their projector. + To-day they served another purpose, for as the sun had heated the little + cabin almost to the point of combustion, curling up the long dry shingles, + and starting aromatic tears from the green pine beams, Tommy led Johnson + into one of the larger openings, and with a sense of satisfaction threw + himself panting upon its rocky floor. Here and there the grateful dampness + was condensed in quiet pools of water, or in a monotonous and soothing + drip from the rocks above. Without lay the staring sunlight,—colorless, + clarified, intense. + </p> + <p> + For a few moments they lay resting on their elbows in blissful + contemplation of the heat they had escaped. “Wot do you say,” said + Johnson, slowly, without looking at his companion, but abstractly + addressing himself to the landscape beyond,—“wot do you say to two + straight games fur one thousand dollars?” + </p> + <p> + “Make it five thousand,” replied Tommy, reflectively, also to the + landscape, “and I'm in.” + </p> + <p> + “Wot do I owe you now?” said Johnson, after a lengthened silence. + </p> + <p> + “One hundred and seventy-five thousand two hundred and fifty dollars,” + replied Tommy, with business-like gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Johnson, after a deliberation commensurate with the magnitude + of the transaction, “ef you win, call it a hundred and eighty thousand, + round. War's the keerds?” + </p> + <p> + They were in an old tin box in a crevice of a rock above his head. They + were greasy and worn with service. Johnson dealt, albeit his right hand + was still uncertain,—hovering, after dropping the cards, aimlessly + about Tommy, and being only recalled by a strong nervous effort. Yet, + notwithstanding this incapacity for even honest manipulation, Mr. Johnson + covertly turned a knave from the bottom of the pack with such shameless + inefficiency and gratuitous unskilfulness, that even Tommy was obliged to + cough and look elsewhere to hide his embarrassment. Possibly for this + reason the young gentleman was himself constrained, by way of correction, + to add a valuable card to his own hand, over and above the number he + legitimately held. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the game was unexciting, and dragged listlessly. Johnson + won. He recorded the fact and the amount with a stub of pencil and shaking + fingers in wandering hieroglyphics all over a pocket diary. Then there was + a long pause, when Johnson slowly drew something from his pocket, and held + it up before his companion. It was apparently a dull red stone. + </p> + <p> + “Ef,” said Johnson, slowly, with his old look of simple cunning,—“ef + you happened to pick up sich a rock ez that, Tommy, what might you say it + was?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know,” said Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “Mightn't you say,” continued Johnson, cautiously, “that it was gold, or + silver?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither,” said Tommy, promptly. + </p> + <p> + “Mightn't you say it was quicksilver? Mightn't you say that ef thar was a + friend o' yourn ez knew war to go and turn out ten ton of it a day, and + every ton worth two thousand dollars, that he had a soft thing, a very + soft thing,—allowin', Tommy, that you used sich language, which you + don't?” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the boy, coming to the point with great directness, “DO you + know where to get it? have you struck it, Uncle Ben?” + </p> + <p> + Johnson looked carefully around. “I hev, Tommy. Listen. I know whar thar's + cartloads of it. But thar's only one other specimen—the mate to this + yer—thet's above ground, and thet's in 'Frisco. Thar's an agint + comin' up in a day or two to look into it. I sent for him. Eh?” + </p> + <p> + His bright, restless eyes were concentrated on Tommy's face now, but the + boy showed neither surprise nor interest. Least of all did he betray any + recollection of Bill's ironical and gratuitous corroboration of this part + of the story. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody knows it,” continued Johnson, in a nervous whisper,—“nobody + knows it but you and the agint in 'Frisco. The boys workin' round yar + passes by and sees the old man grubbin' away, and no signs o' color, not + even rotten quartz; the boys loafin' round the Mansion House sees the old + man lyin' round free in bar-rooms, and they laughs and sez, 'Played out,' + and spects nothin'. Maybe ye think they spects suthin now, eh?” queried + Johnson, suddenly, with a sharp look of suspicion. + </p> + <p> + Tommy looked up, shook his head, threw a stone at a passing rabbit, but + did not reply. + </p> + <p> + “When I fust set eyes on you, Tommy,” continued Johnson, apparently + reassured, “the fust day you kem and pumped for me, an entire stranger, + and hevin no call to do it, I sez, 'Johnson, Johnson,' sez I,' yer's a boy + you kin trust. Yer's a boy that won't play you; yer's a chap that's white + and square,'—white and square, Tommy: them's the very words I used.” + </p> + <p> + He paused for a moment, and then went on in a confidential whisper, “'You + want capital, Johnson,' sez I, 'to develop your resources, and you want a + pardner. Capital you can send for, but your pardner, Johnson,—your + pardner is right yer. And his name, it is Tommy Islington.' Them's the + very words I used.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and chafed his clammy hands upon his knees. “It's six months + ago sens I made you my pardner. Thar ain't a lick I've struck sens then, + Tommy, thar ain't a han'ful o' yearth I've washed, thar ain't a shovelful + o' rock I've turned over, but I tho't o' you. 'Share, and share alike,' + sez I. When I wrote to my agint, I wrote ekal for my pardner, Tommy + Islington, he hevin no call to know ef the same was man or boy.” + </p> + <p> + He had moved nearer the boy, and would perhaps have laid his hand + caressingly upon him, but even in his manifest affection there was a + singular element of awed restraint and even fear,—a suggestion of + something withheld even his fullest confidences, a hopeless perception of + some vague barrier that never could be surmounted. He may have been at + times dimly conscious that, in the eyes which Tommy raised to his, there + was thorough intellectual appreciation, critical good-humor, even feminine + softness, but nothing more. His nervousness somewhat heightened by his + embarrassment, he went on with an attempt at calmness which his twitching + white lips and unsteady fingers made pathetically grotesque. “Thar's a + bill o' sale in my bunk, made out accordin' to law, of an ekal ondivided + half of the claim, and the consideration is two hundred and fifty thousand + dollars,—gambling debts,—gambling debts from me to you, Tommy,—you + understand?”—nothing could exceed the intense cunning of his eye at + this moment,—“and then thar's a will.” + </p> + <p> + “A will?” said Tommy, in amused surprise. + </p> + <p> + Johnson looked frightened. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” he said, hurriedly, “wot will? Who said anythin' 'bout a will, + Tommy?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody,” replied Tommy, with unblushing calm. + </p> + <p> + Johnson passed his hand over his cold forehead, wrung the damp ends of his + hair with his fingers, and went on: “Times when I'm took bad ez I was + to-day, the boys about yer sez—you sez, maybe, Tommy—it's + whiskey. It ain't, Tommy. It's pizen,—quicksilver pizen. That's + what's the matter with me. I'm salviated! Salviated with merkery. + </p> + <p> + “I've heerd o' it before,” continued Johnson, appealing to the boy, “and + ez a boy o' permiskus reading, I reckon you hev too. Them men as works in + cinnabar sooner or later gets salviated. It's bound to fetch 'em some + time. Salviated by merkery.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you goin' to do for it?” asked Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “When the agint comes up, and I begins to realize on this yer mine,” said + Johnson, contemplatively, “I goes to New York. I sez to the barkeep' o' + the hotel, 'Show me the biggest doctor here.' He shows me. I sez to him, + 'Salviated by merkery,—a year's standin',—how much?' He sez, + 'Five thousand dollars, and take two o' these pills at bedtime, and an + ekil number o' powders at meals, and come back in a week.' And I goes back + in a week, cured, and signs a certifikit to that effect.” + </p> + <p> + Encouraged by a look of interest in Tommy's eye, he went on. + </p> + <p> + “So I gets cured. I goes to the barkeep', and I sez, 'Show me the biggest, + fashionblest house thet's for sale yer.' And he sez, 'The biggest, + nat'rally b'longs to John Jacob Astor.' And I sez, 'Show him,' and he + shows him. And I sez, 'Wot might you ask for this yer house?' And he looks + at me scornful, and sez, 'Go 'way, old man; you must be sick.' And I + fetches him one over the left eye, and he apologizes, and I gives him his + own price for the house. I stocks that house with mohogany furniture and + pervisions, and thar we lives, you and me, Tommy, you and me!” + </p> + <p> + The sun no longer shone upon the hillside. The shadows of the pines were + beginning to creep over Johnson's claim, and the air within the cavern was + growing chill. In the gathering darkness his eyes shone brightly as he + went on: “Then thar comes a day when we gives a big spread. We invites + govners, members o' Congress, gentlemen o' fashion, and the like. And + among 'em I invites a Man as holds his head very high, a Man I once knew; + but he doesn't know I knows him, and he doesn't remember me. And he comes + and he sits opposite me, and I watches him. And he's very airy, this Man, + and very chipper, and he wipes his mouth with a white hankercher, and he + smiles, and he ketches my eye. And he sez, 'A glass o' wine with you, Mr. + Johnson'; and he fills his glass and I fills mine, and we rises. And I + heaves that wine, glass and all, right into his damned grinnin' face. And + he jumps for me,—for he is very game, this Man, very game,—but + some on 'em grabs him, and he sez, 'Who be you?' And I sez, 'Skaggs! damn + you, Skaggs! Look at me! Gimme back my wife and child, gimme back the + money you stole, gimme back the good name you took away, gimme back the + health you ruined, gimme back the last twelve years! Give 'em to me, damn + you, quick, before I cuts your heart out!' And naterally, Tommy, he can't + do it. And so I cuts his heart out, my boy; I cuts his heart out.” + </p> + <p> + The purely animal fury of his eye suddenly changed again to cunning. “You + think they hangs me for it, Tommy, but they don't. Not much, Tommy. I goes + to the biggest lawyer there, and I says to him, 'Salviated by merkery,—you + hear me,—salviated by merkery.' And he winks at me, and he goes to + the judge, and he sez, 'This yer unfortnet man isn't responsible,—he's + been salviated by merkery.' And he brings witnesses; you comes, Tommy, and + you sez ez how you've seen me took bad afore; and the doctor, he comes, + and he sez as how he's seen me frightful; and the jury, without leavin' + their seats, brings in a verdict o' justifiable insanity,—salviated + by merkery.” + </p> + <p> + In the excitement of his climax he had risen to his feet, but would have + fallen had not Tommy caught him and led him into the open air. In this + sharper light there was an odd change visible in his yellow-white face,—a + change which caused Tommy to hurriedly support him, half leading, half + dragging him toward the little cabin. When they had reached it, Tommy + placed him on a rude “bunk,” or shelf, and stood for a moment in anxious + contemplation of the tremor-stricken man before him. Then he said rapidly: + “Listen, Uncle Ben. I'm goin' to town—to town, you understand—for + the doctor. You're not to get up or move on any account until I return. Do + you hear?” Johnson nodded violently. “I'll be back in two hours.” In + another moment he was gone. + </p> + <p> + For an hour Johnson kept his word. Then he suddenly sat up, and began to + gaze fixedly at a corner of the cabin. From gazing at it he began to + smile, from smiling at it he began to talk, from talking at it he began to + scream, from screaming he passed to cursing and sobbing wildly. Then he + lay quiet again. + </p> + <p> + He was so still that to merely human eyes he might have seemed asleep or + dead. But a squirrel, that, emboldened by the stillness, had entered from + the roof, stopped short upon a beam above the bunk, for he saw that the + man's foot was slowly and cautiously moving toward the floor, and that the + man's eyes were as intent and watchful as his own. Presently, still + without a sound, both feet were upon the floor. And then the bunk creaked, + and the squirrel whisked into the eaves of the roof. When he peered forth + again, everything was quiet, and the man was gone. + </p> + <p> + An hour later two muleteers on the Placerville Road passed a man with + dishevelled hair, glaring, bloodshot eyes, and clothes torn with bramble + and stained with the red dust of the mountain. They pursued him, when he + turned fiercely on the foremost, wrested a pistol from his grasp, and + broke away. Later still, when the sun had dropped behind Payne's Ridge, + the underbrush on Deadwood Slope crackled with a stealthy but continuous + tread. It must have been an animal whose dimly outlined bulk, in the + gathering darkness, showed here and there in vague but incessant motion; + it could be nothing but an animal whose utterance was at once so + incoherent, monotonous, and unremitting. Yet, when the sound came nearer, + and the chaparral was parted, it seemed to be a man, and that man Johnson. + </p> + <p> + Above the baying of phantasmal hounds that pressed him hard and drove him + on, with never rest or mercy; above the lashing of a spectral whip that + curled about his limbs, sang in his ears, and continually stung him + forward; above the outcries of the unclean shapes that thronged about him,—he + could still distinguish one real sound,—the rush and sweep of + hurrying waters. The Stanislaus River! A thousand feet below him drove its + yellowing current. Through all the vacillations of his unseated mind he + had clung to one idea,—to reach the river, to lave in it, to swim it + if need be, but to put it forever between him and the harrying shapes, to + drown forever in its turbid depths the thronging spectres, to wash away in + its yellow flood all stains and color of the past. And now he was leaping + from boulder to boulder, from blackened stump to stump, from gnarled bush + to bush, caught for a moment and withheld by clinging vines, or plunging + downward into dusty hollows, until, rolling, dropping, sliding, and + stumbling, he reached the river-bank, whereon he fell, rose, staggered + forward, and fell again with outstretched arms upon a rock that breasted + the swift current. And there he lay as dead. + </p> + <p> + A few stars came out hesitatingly above Deadwood Slope. A cold wind that + had sprung up with the going down of the sun fanned them into momentary + brightness, swept the heated flanks of the mountain, and ruffled the + river. Where the fallen man lay there was a sharp curve in the stream, so + that in the gathering shadows the rushing water seemed to leap out of the + darkness and to vanish again. Decayed drift-wood, trunks of trees, + fragments of broken sluicing,—the wash and waste of many a mile,—swept + into sight a moment, and were gone. All of decay, wreck, and foulness + gathered in the long circuit of mining-camp and settlement, all the dregs + and refuse of a crude and wanton civilization, reappeared for an instant, + and then were hurried away in the darkness and lost. No wonder that as the + wind ruffled the yellow waters the waves seemed to lift their unclean + hands toward the rock whereon the fallen man lay, as if eager to snatch + him from it, too, and hurry him toward the sea. + </p> + <p> + It was very still. In the clear air a horn blown a mile away was heard + distinctly. The jingling of a spur and a laugh on the highway over Payne's + Ridge sounded clearly across the river. The rattling of harness and hoofs + foretold for many minutes the approach of the Wingdam coach, that at last, + with flashing lights, passed within a few feet of the rock. Then for an + hour all again was quiet. Presently the moon, round and full, lifted + herself above the serried ridge and looked down upon the river. At first + the bared peak of Deadwood Hill gleamed white and skull-like. Then the + shadows of Payne's Ridge cast on the slope slowly sank away, leaving the + unshapely stumps, the dusty fissures, and clinging outcrop of Deadwood + Slope to stand out in black and silver. Still stealing softly downward, + the moonlight touched the bank and the rock, and then glittered brightly + on the river. The rock was bare and the man was gone, but the river still + hurried swiftly to the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything for me?” asked Tommy Islington, as, a week after, the + stage drew up at the Mansion House, and Bill slowly entered the bar-room. + Bill did not reply, but, turning to a stranger who had entered with him, + indicated with a jerk of his finger the boy. The stranger turned with an + air half of business, half of curiosity, and looked critically at Tommy. + “Is there anything for me?” repeated Tommy, a little confused at the + silence and scrutiny. Bill walked deliberately to the bar, and, placing + his back against it, faced Tommy with a look of demure enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + “Ef,” he remarked slowly,—“ef a hundred thousand dollars down and + half a million in perspektive is ennything, Major, THERE IS!” + </p> + <p> + MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS. <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART_"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART II—EAST. + </h2> + <p> + It was characteristic of Angel's that the disappearance of Johnson, and + the fact that he had left his entire property to Tommy, thrilled the + community but slightly in comparison with the astounding discovery that he + had anything to leave. The finding of a cinnabar lode at Angel's absorbed + all collateral facts or subsequent details. Prospectors from adjoining + camps thronged the settlement; the hillside for a mile on either side of + Johnson's claim was staked out and pre-empted; trade received a sudden + stimulus; and, in the excited rhetoric of the “Weekly Record,” “a new era + had broken upon Angel's.” “On Thursday last,” added that paper, “over five + hundred dollars was taken in over the bar of the Mansion House.” + </p> + <p> + Of the fate of Johnson there was little doubt. He had been last seen lying + on a boulder on the river-bank by outside passengers of the Wingdam night + coach, and when Finn of Robinson's Ferry admitted to have fired three + shots from a revolver at a dark object struggling in the water near the + ferry, which he “suspicioned” to be a bear, the question seemed to be + settled. Whatever might have been the fallibility of his judgment, of the + accuracy of his aim there could be no doubt. The general belief that + Johnson, after possessing himself of the muleteer's pistol, could have run + amuck, gave a certain retributive justice to this story, which rendered it + acceptable to the camp. + </p> + <p> + It was also characteristic of Angel's that no feeling of envy or + opposition to the good fortune of Tommy Islington prevailed there. That he + was thoroughly cognizant, from the first, of Johnson's discovery, that his + attentions to him were interested, calculating, and speculative was, + however, the general belief of the majority,—a belief that, + singularly enough, awakened the first feelings of genuine respect for + Tommy ever shown by the camp. “He ain't no fool; Yuba Bill seed thet from + the first,” said the barkeeper. It was Yuba Bill who applied for the + guardianship of Tommy after his accession to Johnson's claim, and on whose + bonds the richest men of Calaveras were represented. It was Yuba Bill, + also, when Tommy was sent East to finish his education, accompanied him to + San Francisco, and, before parting with his charge on the steamer's deck, + drew him aside, and said, “Ef at enny time you want enny money, Tommy, + over and 'bove your 'lowance, you kin write; but ef you'll take my + advice,” he added, with a sudden huskiness mitigating the severity of his + voice, “you'll forget every derned ole spavined, string-halted bummer as + you ever met or knew at Angel's,—ev'ry one, Tommy,—ev'ry one! + And so—boy—take care of yourself—and—and God bless + ye, and pertikerly d—n me for a first-class A 1 fool.” It was Yuba + Bill, also, after this speech, glared savagely around, walked down the + crowded gang-plank with a rigid and aggressive shoulder, picked a quarrel + with his cabman, and, after bundling that functionary into his own + vehicle, took the reins himself, and drove furiously to his hotel. “It + cost me,” said Bill, recounting the occurrence somewhat later at Angel's,—“it + cost me a matter o' twenty dollars afore the jedge the next mornin'; but + you kin bet high thet I taught them 'Frisco chaps suthin new about + drivin'. I didn't make it lively in Montgomery Street for about ten + minutes,—O no!” + </p> + <p> + And so by degrees the two original locaters of the great Cinnabar lode + faded from the memory of Angel's, and Calaveras knew them no more. In five + years their very names had been forgotten; in seven the name of the town + was changed; in ten the town itself was transported bodily to the + hillside, and the chimney of the Union Smelting Works by night flickered + like a corpse-light over the site of Johnson's cabin, and by day poisoned + the pure spices of the pines. Even the Mansion House was dismantled, and + the Wingdam stage deserted the highway for a shorter cut by Quicksilver + City. Only the bared crest of Deadwood Hill, as of old, sharply cut the + clear blue sky, and at its base, as of old, the Stanislaus River, + unwearied and unresting, babbled, whispered, and hurried away to the sea. + </p> + <p> + A midsummer's day was breaking lazily on the Atlantic. There was not wind + enough to move the vapors in the foggy offing, but where the vague + distance heaved against a violet sky there were dull red streaks that, + growing brighter, presently painted out the stars. Soon the brown rocks of + Greyport appeared faintly suffused, and then the whole ashen line of dead + coast was kindled, and the lighthouse beacons went out one by one. And + then a hundred sail, before invisible, started out of the vapory horizon, + and pressed toward the shore. It was morning, indeed, and some of the best + society in Greyport, having been up all night, were thinking it was time + to go to bed. + </p> + <p> + For as the sky flashed brighter it fired the clustering red roofs of a + picturesque house by the sands that had all that night, from open lattice + and illuminated balcony, given light and music to the shore. It glittered + on the broad crystal spaces of a great conservatory that looked upon an + exquisite lawn, where all night long the blended odors of sea and shore + had swooned under the summer moon. But it wrought confusion among the + colored lamps on the long veranda, and startled a group of ladies and + gentlemen who had stepped from the drawing-room window to gaze upon it. It + was so searching and sincere in its way, that, as the carriage of the + fairest Miss Gillyflower rolled away, that peerless young woman, catching + sight of her face in the oval mirror, instantly pulled down the blinds, + and, nestling the whitest shoulders in Greyport against the crimson + cushions, went to sleep. + </p> + <p> + “How haggard everybody is! Rose, dear, you look almost intellectual,” said + Blanche Masterman. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” said Rose, simply. “Sunrises are very trying. Look how that + pink regularly puts out Mrs. Brown-Robinson, hair and all!” + </p> + <p> + “The angels,” said the Count de Nugat, with a polite gesture toward the + sky, “must have find these celestial combinations very bad for the + toilette.” + </p> + <p> + “They're safe in white,—except when they sit for their pictures in + Venice,” said Blanche. “How fresh Mr. Islington looks! It's really + uncomplimentary to us.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose the sun recognizes in me no rival,” said the young man, + demurely. “But,” he added, “I have lived much in the open air, and require + very little sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “How delightful!” said Mrs. Brown-Robinson, in a low, enthusiastic voice + and a manner that held the glowing sentiment of sixteen and the practical + experiences of thirty-two in dangerous combination;—“how perfectly + delightful! What sunrises you must have seen, and in such wild, romantic + places! How I envy you! My nephew was a classmate of yours, and has often + repeated to me those charming stories you tell of your adventures. Won't + you tell some now? Do! How you must tire of us and this artificial life + here, so frightfully artificial, you know” (in a confidential whisper); + “and then to think of the days when you roamed the great West with the + Indians, and the bisons, and the grizzly bears! Of course, you have seen + grizzly bears and bisons?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he has, dear,” said Blanche, a little pettishly, throwing a + cloak over her shoulders, and seizing her chaperon by the arm; “his + earliest infancy was soothed by bisons, and he proudly points to the + grizzly bear as the playmate of his youth. Come with me, and I'll tell you + all about it. How good it is of you,” she added, sotto voce, to Islington, + as he stood by the carriage,—“how perfectly good it is of you to be + like those animals you tell us of, and not know your full power. Think, + with your experiences and our credulity, what stories you MIGHT tell! And + you are going to walk? Good night, then.” A slim, gloved hand was frankly + extended from the window, and the next moment the carriage rolled away. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't Islington throwing away a chance there?” said Captain Merwin, on + the veranda. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he couldn't stand my lovely aunt's superadded presence. But then, + he's the guest of Blanche's father, and I dare say they see enough of each + other as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “But isn't it a rather dangerous situation?” + </p> + <p> + “For him, perhaps; although he's awfully old, and very queer. For her, + with an experience that takes in all the available men in both + hemispheres, ending with Nugat over there, I should say a man more or less + wouldn't affect her much, anyway. Of course,” he laughed, “these are the + accents of bitterness. But that was last year.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Islington did not overhear the speaker; perhaps, if he did, the + criticism was not new. He turned carelessly away, and sauntered out on the + road to the sea. Thence he strolled along the sands toward the cliffs, + where, meeting an impediment in the shape of a garden wall, he leaped it + with a certain agile, boyish ease and experience, and struck across an + open lawn toward the rocks again. The best society of Greyport were not + early risers, and the spectacle of a trespasser in an evening dress + excited only the criticism of grooms hanging about the stables, or cleanly + housemaids on the broad verandas that in Greyport architecture dutifully + gave upon the sea. Only once, as he entered the boundaries of Cliffwood + Lodge, the famous seat of Renwyck Masterman, was he aware of suspicious + scrutiny; but a slouching figure that vanished quickly in the lodge + offered no opposition to his progress. Avoiding the pathway to the lodge, + Islington kept along the rocks until, reaching a little promontory and + rustic pavilion, he sat down and gazed upon the sea. + </p> + <p> + And presently an infinite peace stole upon him. Except where the waves + lapped lazily the crags below, the vast expanse beyond seemed unbroken by + ripple, heaving only in broad ponderable sheets, and rhythmically, as if + still in sleep. The air was filled with a luminous haze that caught and + held the direct sunbeams. In the deep calm that lay upon the sea, it + seemed to Islington that all the tenderness of culture, magic of wealth, + and spell of refinement that for years had wrought upon that favored shore + had extended its gracious influence even here. What a pampered and + caressed old ocean it was; cajoled, flattered, and feted where it lay! An + odd recollection of the turbid Stanislaus hurrying by the ascetic pines, + of the grim outlines of Deadwood Hill, swam before his eyes, and made the + yellow green of the velvet lawn and graceful foliage seem almost tropical + by contrast. And, looking up, a few yards distant he beheld a tall slip of + a girl gazing upon the sea,—Blanche Masterman. + </p> + <p> + She had plucked somewhere a large fan-shaped leaf, which she held + parasol-wise, shading the blond masses of her hair, and hiding her gray + eyes. She had changed her festal dress, with its amplitude of flounce and + train, for a closely fitting half-antique habit whose scant outlines would + have been trying to limbs less shapely, but which prettily accented the + graceful curves and sweeping lines of this Greyport goddess. As Islington + rose, she came toward him with a frankly outstretched hand and + unconstrained manner. Had she observed him first? I don't know. + </p> + <p> + They sat down together on a rustic seat, Miss Blanche facing the sea, and + shading her eyes with the leaf. + </p> + <p> + “I don't really know how long I have been sitting here,” said Islington, + “or whether I have not been actually asleep and dreaming. It seemed too + lovely a morning to go to bed. But you?” + </p> + <p> + From behind the leaf, it appeared that Miss Blanche, on retiring, had been + pursued by a hideous winged bug which defied the efforts of herself and + maid to dislodge. Odin, the Spitz dog, had insisted upon scratching at the + door. And it made her eyes red to sleep in the morning. And she had an + early call to make. And the sea looked lovely. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to find you here, whatever be the cause,” said Islington, with + his old directness. “To-day, as you know, is my last day in Greyport, and + it is much pleasanter to say good by under this blue sky than even beneath + your father's wonderful frescos yonder. I want to remember you, too, as + part of this pleasant prospect which belongs to us all, rather than recall + you in anybody's particular setting.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Blanche, with equal directness, “that houses are one of the + defects of our civilization; but I don't think I ever heard the idea as + elegantly expressed before. Where do you go?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know yet. I have several plans. I may go to South America and + become president of one of the republics,—I am not particular which. + I am rich, but in that part of America which lies outside of Greyport it + is necessary for every man to have some work. My friends think I should + have some great aim in life, with a capital A. But I was born a vagabond, + and a vagabond I shall probably die.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know anybody in South America,” said Blanche, languidly. “There + were two girls here last season, but they didn't wear stays in the house, + and their white frocks never were properly done up. If you go to South + America, you must write to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will. Can you tell me the name of this flower which I found in your + greenhouse. It looks much like a California blossom.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is. Father bought it of a half-crazy old man who came here one + day. Do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + Islington laughed. “I am afraid not. But let me present this in a less + business-like fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Remind me to give you one in return before you go,—or + will you choose yourself?” + </p> + <p> + They had both risen as by a common instinct. + </p> + <p> + “Good by.” + </p> + <p> + The cool flower-like hand lay in his for an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Will you oblige me by putting aside that leaf a moment before I go?” + </p> + <p> + “But my eyes are red, and I look like a perfect fright.” + </p> + <p> + Yet, after a long pause, the leaf fluttered down, and a pair of very + beautiful but withal very clear and critical eyes met his. Islington was + constrained to look away. When he turned again, she was gone. + </p> + <p> + “Mister Hislington,—sir!” + </p> + <p> + It was Chalker, the English groom, out of breath with running. + </p> + <p> + “Seein' you alone, sir,—beg your pardon, sir,—but there's a + person—” + </p> + <p> + “A person! what the devil do you mean? Speak English—no, damn it, I + mean don't,” said Islington, snappishly. + </p> + <p> + “I sed a person, sir. Beg pardon—no offence—but not a gent, + sir. In the lib'ry.” + </p> + <p> + A little amused even through the utter dissatisfaction with himself and + vague loneliness that had suddenly come upon him, Islington, as he walked + toward the lodge, asked, “Why isn't he a gent? + </p> + <p> + “No gent—beggin' your pardin, sir—'ud guy a man in sarvis, + sir. Takes me 'ands so, sir, as I sits in the rumble at the gate, and puts + 'em downd so, sir, and sez, 'Put 'em in your pocket, young man,—or + is it a road agint you expects to see, that you 'olds hup your 'ands, hand + crosses 'em like to that,' sez he. ''Old 'ard,' sez he, 'on the short + curves, or you'll bust your precious crust,' sez he. And hasks for you, + sir. This way, sir.” + </p> + <p> + They entered the lodge. Islington hurried down the long Gothic hall, and + opened the library door. + </p> + <p> + In an arm-chair, in the centre of the room, a man sat apparently + contemplating a large, stiff, yellow hat with an enormous brim, that was + placed on the floor before him. His hands rested lightly between his + knees, but one foot was drawn up at the side of his chair in a peculiar + manner. In the first glance that Islington gave, the attitude in some odd, + irreconcilable way suggested a brake. In another moment he dashed across + the room, and, holding out both hands, cried, “Yuba Bill!” + </p> + <p> + The man rose, caught Islington by the shoulders, wheeled him round, hugged + him, felt of his ribs like a good-natured ogre, shook his hands violently, + laughed, and then said, somewhat ruefully, “And how ever did you know me?” + </p> + <p> + Seeing that Yuba Bill evidently regarded himself as in some elaborate + disguise, Islington laughed, and suggested that it must have been + instinct. + </p> + <p> + “And you?” said Bill, holding him at arm's length, and surveying him + critically,—“you!—toe think—toe think—a little + cuss no higher nor a trace, a boy as I've flicked outer the road with a + whip time in agin, a boy ez never hed much clothes to speak of, turned + into a sport!” + </p> + <p> + Islington remembered, with a thrill of ludicrous terror, that he still + wore his evening dress. + </p> + <p> + “Turned,” continued Yuba Bill, severely,—“turned into a restyourant + waiter,—a garsong! Eh, Alfonse, bring me a patty de foy grass and an + omelette, demme!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear old chap!” said Islington, laughing, and trying to put his hand over + Bill's bearded mouth, “but you—YOU don't look exactly like yourself! + You're not well, Bill.” And indeed, as he turned toward the light, Bill's + eyes appeared cavernous, and his hair and beard thickly streaked with + gray. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe it's this yer harness,” said Bill, a little anxiously. “When I + hitches on this yer curb” (he indicated a massive gold watch-chain with + enormous links), “and mounts this 'morning star,'” (he pointed to a very + large solitaire pin which had the appearance of blistering his whole + shirt-front), “it kinder weighs heavy on me, Tommy. Otherwise I'm all + right, my boy,—all right.” But he evaded Islington's keen eye, and + turned from the light. + </p> + <p> + “You have something to tell me, Bill,” said Islington, suddenly, and with + almost brusque directness; “out with it.” + </p> + <p> + Bill did not speak, but moved uneasily toward his hat. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't come three thousand miles, without a word of warning, to talk + to me of old times,” said Islington, more kindly, “glad as I would have + been to see you. It isn't your way, Bill, and you know it. We shall not be + disturbed here,” he added, in reply to an inquiring glance that Bill + directed to the door, “and I am ready to hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “Firstly, then,” said Bill, drawing his chair nearer Islington, “answer me + one question, Tommy, fair and square, and up and down.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Islington, with a slight smile. + </p> + <p> + “Ef I should say to you, Tommy,—say to you to-day, right here, you + must come with me,—you must leave this place for a month, a year, + two years maybe, perhaps forever,—is there anything that 'ud keep + you,—anything, my boy, ez you couldn't leave?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Tommy, quietly; “I am only visiting here. I thought of leaving + Greyport to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “But if I should say to you, Tommy, come with me on a pasear to Chiny, to + Japan, to South Ameriky, p'r'aps, could you go?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Islington, after a slight pause. + </p> + <p> + “Thar isn't ennything,” said Bill, drawing a little closer, and lowering + his voice confidentially,—“ennything in the way of a young woman—you + understand, Tommy—ez would keep you? They're mighty sweet about + here; and whether a man is young or old, Tommy, there's always some woman + as is brake or whip to him!” + </p> + <p> + In a certain excited bitterness that characterized the delivery of this + abstract truth, Bill did not see that the young man's face flushed + slightly as he answered “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then listen. It's seven years ago, Tommy, thet I was working one o' the + Pioneer coaches over from Gold Hill. Ez I stood in front o' the + stage-office, the sheriff o' the county comes to me, and he sez, 'Bill,' + sez he, 'I've got a looney chap, as I'm in charge of, taking 'im down to + the 'sylum in Stockton. He'z quiet and peaceable, but the insides don't + like to ride with him. Hev you enny objection to give him a lift on the + box beside you?' I sez, 'No; put him up.' When I came to go and get up on + that box beside him, that man, Tommy,—that man sittin' there, quiet + and peaceable, was—Johnson! + </p> + <p> + “He didn't know me, my boy,” Yuba Bill continued, rising and putting his + hands on Tommy's shoulders,—“he didn't know me. He didn't know + nothing about you, nor Angel's, nor the quicksilver lode, nor even his own + name. He said his name was Skaggs, but I knowd it was Johnson. Thar was + times, Tommy, you might have knocked me off that box with a feather; thar + was times when if the twenty-seven passengers o' that stage hed found + theirselves swimming in the American River five hundred feet below the + road, I never could have explained it satisfactorily to the company,—never. + </p> + <p> + “The sheriff said,” Bill continued hastily, as if to preclude any + interruption from the young man,—“the sheriff said he had been + brought into Murphy's Camp three years before, dripping with water, and + sufferin' from perkussion of the brain, and had been cared for generally + by the boys 'round. When I told the sheriff I knowed 'im, I got him to + leave him in my care; and I took him to 'Frisco, Tommy, to 'Frisco, and I + put him in charge o' the best doctors there, and paid his board myself. + There was nothin' he didn't have ez he wanted. Don't look that way, my + dear boy, for God's sake, don't!” + </p> + <p> + “O Bill,” said Islington, rising and staggering to the window, “why did + you keep this from me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said Bill, turning on him savagely,—“why? because I warn't a + fool. Thar was you, winnin' your way in college; thar was YOU, risin' in + the world, and of some account to it; yer was an old bummer, ez good ez + dead to it,—a man ez oughter been dead afore! a man ez never denied + it! But you allus liked him better nor me,” said Bill, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Bill,” said the young man, seizing both his hands. “I know + you did it for the best; but go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Thar ain't much more to tell, nor much use to tell it, as I can see,” + said Bill, moodily. “He never could be cured, the doctors said, for he had + what they called monomania,—was always talking about his wife and + darter that somebody had stole away years ago, and plannin' revenge on + that somebody. And six months ago he was missed. I tracked him to Carson, + to Salt Lake City, to Omaha, to Chicago, to New York,—and here!” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” echoed Islington. + </p> + <p> + “Here! And that's what brings me here to-day. Whethers he's crazy or well, + whethers he's huntin' you or lookin' up that other man, you must get away + from here. You mustn't see him. You and me, Tommy, will go away on a + cruise. In three or four years he'll be dead or missing, and then we'll + come back. Come.” And he rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Bill,” said Islington, rising also, and taking the hand of his friend, + with the same quiet obstinacy that in the old days had endeared him to + Bill, “wherever he is, here or elsewhere, sane or crazy, I shall seek and + find him. Every dollar that I have shall be his, every dollar that I have + spent shall be returned to him. I am young yet, thank God, and can work; + and if there is a way out of this miserable business, I shall find it.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew,” said Bill, with a surliness that ill concealed his evident + admiration of the calm figure before him—“I knew the partikler style + of d—n fool that you was, and expected no better. Good by, then—God + Almighty! who's that?” + </p> + <p> + He was on his way to the open French window, but had started back, his + face quite white and bloodless, and his eyes staring. Islington ran to the + window, and looked out. A white skirt vanished around the corner of the + veranda. When he returned, Bill had dropped into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “It must have been Miss Masterman, I think; but what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Bill, faintly; “have you got any whiskey handy?” + </p> + <p> + Islington brought a decanter, and, pouring out some spirits, handed the + glass to Bill. Bill drained it, and then said, “Who is Miss Masterman?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Masterman's daughter; that is, an adopted daughter, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Wot name?” + </p> + <p> + “I really don't know,” said Islington, pettishly, more vexed than he cared + to own at this questioning. + </p> + <p> + Yuba Bill rose and walked to the window, closed it, walked back again to + the door, glanced at Islington, hesitated, and then returned to his chair. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't tell you I was married—did I?” he said suddenly, looking + up in Islington's face with an unsuccessful attempt at a reckless laugh. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Islington, more pained at the manner than the words. + </p> + <p> + “Fact,” said Yuba Bill. “Three years ago it was, Tommy,—three years + ago!” + </p> + <p> + He looked so hard at Islington, that, feeling he was expected to say + something, he asked vaguely, “Who did you marry?” + </p> + <p> + “Thet's it!” said Yuba Bill; “I can't ezactly say; partikly, though, a she + devil! generally, the wife of half a dozen other men.” + </p> + <p> + Accustomed, apparently, to have his conjugal infelicities a theme of mirth + among men, and seeing no trace of amusement on Islington's grave face, his + dogged, reckless manner softened, and, drawing his chair closer to + Islington, he went on: “It all began outer this: we was coming down + Watson's grade one night pretty free, when the expressman turns to me and + sez, 'There's a row inside, and you'd better pull up!' I pulls up, and out + hops, first a woman, and then two or three chaps swearing and cursin', and + tryin' to drag some one arter them. Then it 'pear'd, Tommy, thet it was + this woman's drunken husband they was going to put out for abusin' her, + and strikin' her in the coach; and if it hadn't been for me, my boy, + they'd hev left that chap thar in the road. But I fixes matters up by + putting her alongside o' me on the box, and we drove on. She was very + white, Tommy,—for the matter o' that, she was always one o' these + very white women, that never got red in the face,—but she never + cried a whimper. Most wimin would have cried. It was queer, but she never + cried. I thought so at the time. + </p> + <p> + “She was very tall, with a lot o' light hair meandering down the back of + her head, as long as a deer-skin whip-lash, and about the color. She hed + eyes thet'd bore you through at fifty yards, and pooty hands and feet. And + when she kinder got out o' that stiff, narvous state she was in, and + warmed up a little, and got chipper, by G-d, sir, she was handsome,—she + was that!” + </p> + <p> + A little flushed and embarrassed at his own enthusiasm, he stopped, and + then said, carelessly, “They got off at Murphy's.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Islington. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I used to see her often arter thet, and when she was alone she + allus took the box-seat. She kinder confided her troubles to me, how her + husband got drunk and abused her; and I didn't see much o' him, for he was + away in 'Frisco arter thet. But it was all square, Tommy,—all square + 'twixt me and her. + </p> + <p> + “I got a going there a good deal, and then one day I sez to myself, 'Bill, + this won't do,' and I got changed to another route. Did you ever know + Jackson Filltree, Tommy?” said Bill, breaking off suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Might have heerd of him, p'r'aps?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Islington, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Jackson Filltree ran the express from White's out to Summit, 'cross the + North Fork of the Yuba. One day he sez to me, 'Bill, that's a mighty bad + ford at the North Fork.' I sez, 'I believe you, Jackson.' 'It'll git me + some day, Bill, sure,' sez he. I sez, 'Why don't you take the lower ford?' + 'I don't know,' sez he, 'but I can't.' So ever after, when I met him, he + sez, 'That North Fork ain't got me yet.' One day I was in Sacramento, and + up comes Filltree. He sez, 'I've sold out the express business on account + of the North Fork, but it's bound to get me yet, Bill, sure'; and he + laughs. Two weeks after they finds his body below the ford, whar he tried + to cross, comin' down from the Summit way. Folks said it was foolishness: + Tommy, I sez it was Fate! The second day arter I was changed to the + Placerville route, thet woman comes outer the hotel above the + stage-office. Her husband, she said, was lying sick in Placerville; that's + what she said; but it was Fate, Tommy, Fate. Three months afterward, her + husband takes an overdose of morphine for delirium tremems, and dies. + There's folks ez sez she gave it to him, but it's Fate. A year after that + I married her,—Fate, Tommy, Fate! + </p> + <p> + “I lived with her jest three months,” he went on, after a long breath,—“three + months! It ain't much time for a happy man. I've seen a good deal o' hard + life in my day, but there was days in that three months longer than any + day in my life,—days, Tommy, when it was a toss-up whether I should + kill her or she me. But thar, I'm done. You are a young man, Tommy, and I + ain't goin' to tell things thet, old as I am, three years ago I couldn't + have believed.” + </p> + <p> + When at last, with his grim face turned toward the window, he sat silently + with his clinched hands on his knees before him, Islington asked where his + wife was now. + </p> + <p> + “Ask me no more, my boy,—no more. I've said my say.” With a gesture + as of throwing down a pair of reins before him, he rose, and walked to the + window. + </p> + <p> + “You kin understand, Tommy, why a little trip around the world 'ud do me + good. Ef you can't go with me, well and good. But go I must.” + </p> + <p> + “Not before luncheon, I hope,” said a very sweet voice, as Blanche + Masterman suddenly stood before them. “Father would never forgive me if in + his absence I permitted one of Mr. Islington's friends to go in this way. + You will stay, won't you? Do! And you will give me your arm now; and when + Mr. Islington has done staring, he will follow us into the dining-room and + introduce you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have quite fallen in love with your friend,” said Miss Blanche, as they + stood in the drawing-room looking at the figure of Bill, strolling, with + his short pipe in his mouth, through the distant shrubbery. “He asks very + queer questions, though. He wanted to know my mother's maiden name.” + </p> + <p> + “He is an honest fellow,” said Islington, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You are very much subdued. You don't thank me, I dare say, for keeping + you and your friend here; but you couldn't go, you know, until father + returned.” + </p> + <p> + Islington smiled, but not very gayly. + </p> + <p> + “And then I think it much better for us to part here under these frescos, + don't you? Good by.” + </p> + <p> + She extended her long, slim hand. + </p> + <p> + “Out in the sunlight there, when my eyes were red, you were very anxious + to look at me,” she added, in a dangerous voice. + </p> + <p> + Islington raised his sad eyes to hers. Something glittering upon her own + sweet lashes trembled and fell. + </p> + <p> + “Blanche!” + </p> + <p> + She was rosy enough now, and would have withdrawn her hand, but Islington + detained it. She was not quite certain but that her waist was also in + jeopardy. Yet she could not help saying, “Are you sure that there isn't + anything in the way of a young woman that would keep you?” + </p> + <p> + “Blanche!” said Islington in reproachful horror. + </p> + <p> + “If gentlemen will roar out their secrets before an open window, with a + young woman lying on a sofa on the veranda, reading a stupid French novel, + they must not be surprised if she gives more attention to them than her + book.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you know all, Blanche?” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Blanche, “let's see—I know the partiklar style of—ahem!—fool + you was, and expected no better. Good by.” And, gliding like a lovely and + innocent milk snake out of his grasp, she slipped away. + </p> + <p> + To the pleasant ripple of waves, the sound of music and light voices, the + yellow midsummer moon again rose over Greyport. It looked upon formless + masses of rock and shrubbery, wide spaces of lawn and beach, and a + shimmering expanse of water. It singled out particular objects,—a + white sail in shore, a crystal globe upon the lawn, and flashed upon + something held between the teeth of a crouching figure scaling the low + wall of Cliffwood Lodge. Then, as a man and woman passed out from under + the shadows of the foliage into the open moonlight of the garden path, the + figure leaped from the wall, and stood erect and waiting in the shadow. + </p> + <p> + It was the figure of an old man, with rolling eyes, his trembling hand + grasping a long, keen knife,—a figure more pitiable than pitiless, + more pathetic than terrible. But the next moment the knife was stricken + from his hand, and he struggled in the firm grasp of another figure that + apparently sprang from the wall beside him. + </p> + <p> + “D—n you, Masterman!” cried the old man, hoarsely; “give me fair + play, and I'll kill you yet!” + </p> + <p> + “Which my name is Yuba Bill,” said Bill, quietly, “and it's time this d—n + fooling was stopped.” + </p> + <p> + The old man glared in Bill's face savagely. “I know you. You're one of + Masterman's friends,—d—n you,—let me go till I cut his + heart out,—let me go! Where is my Mary?—where is my wife?—there + she is! there!—there!—there! Mary!” He would have screamed, + but Bill placed his powerful hand upon his mouth, as he turned in the + direction of the old man's glance. Distinct in the moonlight the figures + of Islington and Blanche, arm in arm, stood out upon the garden path. + </p> + <p> + “Give me my wife!” muttered the old man hoarsely, between Bill's fingers. + “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + A sudden fury passed over Yuba Bill's face. “Where is your wife?” he + echoed, pressing the old man back against the garden wall, and holding him + there as in a vice. “Where is your wife?” he repeated, thrusting his grim + sardonic jaw and savage eyes into the old man's frightened face. “Where is + Jack Adam's wife? Where is MY wife? Where is the she-devil that drove one + man mad, that sent another to hell by his own hand, that eternally broke + and ruined me? Where! Where! Do you ask where? In jail in Sacramento,—in + jail, do you hear?—in jail for murder, Johnson,—murder!” + </p> + <p> + The old man gasped, stiffened, and then, relaxing, suddenly slipped, a + mere inanimate mass, at Yuba Bill's feet. With a sudden revulsion of + feeling, Yuba Bill dropped at his side, and, lifting him tenderly in his + arms, whispered, “Look up, old man, Johnson! look up, for God's sake!—it's + me,—Yuba Bill! and yonder is your daughter, and—Tommy!—don't + you know—Tommy, little Tommy Islington?” + </p> + <p> + Johnson's eyes slowly opened. He whispered, “Tommy! yes, Tommy! Sit by me, + Tommy. But don't sit so near the bank. Don't you see how the river is + rising and beckoning to me,—hissing, and boilin' over the rocks? + It's gittin higher!—hold me, Tommy,—hold me, and don't let me + go yet. We'll live to cut his heart out, Tommy,—we'll live—we'll—” + His head sank, and the rushing river, invisible to all eyes save his, + leaped toward him out of the darkness, and bore him away, no longer to the + darkness, but through it to the distant, peaceful shining sea. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR. + </h2> + <p> + It had been raining in the valley of the Sacramento. The North Fork had + overflowed its banks and Rattlesnake Creek was impassable. The few + boulders that had marked the summer ford at Simpson's Crossing were + obliterated by a vast sheet of water stretching to the foothills. The up + stage was stopped at Grangers; the last mail had been abandoned in the + tules, the rider swimming for his life. “An area,” remarked the “Sierra + Avalanche,” with pensive local pride, “as large as the State of + Massachusetts is now under water.” + </p> + <p> + Nor was the weather any better in the foothills. The mud lay deep on the + mountain road; wagons that neither physical force nor moral objurgation + could move from the evil ways into which they had fallen, encumbered the + track, and the way to Simpson's Bar was indicated by broken-down teams and + hard swearing. And farther on, cut off and inaccessible, rained upon and + bedraggled, smitten by high winds and threatened by high water, Simpson's + Bar, on the eve of Christmas day, 1862, clung like a swallow's nest to the + rocky entablature and splintered capitals of Table Mountain, and shook in + the blast. + </p> + <p> + As night shut down on the settlement, a few lights gleamed through the + mist from the windows of cabins on either side of the highway now crossed + and gullied by lawless streams and swept by marauding winds. Happily most + of the population were gathered at Thompson's store, clustered around a + red-hot stove, at which they silently spat in some accepted sense of + social communion that perhaps rendered conversation unnecessary. Indeed, + most methods of diversion had long since been exhausted on Simpson's Bar; + high water had suspended the regular occupations on gulch and on river, + and a consequent lack of money and whiskey had taken the zest from most + illegitimate recreation. Even Mr. Hamlin was fain to leave the Bar with + fifty dollars in his pocket,—the only amount actually realized of + the large sums won by him in the successful exercise of his arduous + profession. “Ef I was asked,” he remarked somewhat later,—“ef I was + asked to pint out a purty little village where a retired sport as didn't + care for money could exercise hisself, frequent and lively, I'd say + Simpson's Bar; but for a young man with a large family depending on his + exertions, it don't pay.” As Mr. Hamlin's family consisted mainly of + female adults, this remark is quoted rather to show the breadth of his + humor than the exact extent of his responsibilities. + </p> + <p> + Howbeit, the unconscious objects of this satire sat that evening in the + listless apathy begotten of idleness and lack of excitement. Even the + sudden splashing of hoofs before the door did not arouse them. Dick Bullen + alone paused in the act of scraping out his pipe, and lifted his head, but + no other one of the group indicated any interest in, or recognition of, + the man who entered. + </p> + <p> + It was a figure familiar enough to the company, and known in Simpson's Bar + as “The Old Man.” A man of perhaps fifty years; grizzled and scant of + hair, but still fresh and youthful of complexion. A face full of ready, + but not very powerful sympathy, with a chameleon-like aptitude for taking + on the shade and color of contiguous moods and feelings. He had evidently + just left some hilarious companions, and did not at first notice the + gravity of the group, but clapped the shoulder of the nearest man + jocularly, and threw himself into a vacant chair. + </p> + <p> + “Jest heard the best thing out, boys! Ye know Smiley, over yar,—Jim + Smiley,—funniest man in the Bar? Well, Jim was jest telling the + richest yarn about—” + </p> + <p> + “Smiley's a —— fool,” interrupted a gloomy voice. + </p> + <p> + “A particular —— skunk,” added another in sepulchral accents. + </p> + <p> + A silence followed these positive statements. The Old Man glanced quickly + around the group. Then his face slowly changed. “That's so,” he said + reflectively, after a pause, “certingly a sort of a skunk and suthin of a + fool. In course.” He was silent for a moment as in painful contemplation + of the unsavoriness and folly of the unpopular Smiley. “Dismal weather, + ain't it?” he added, now fully embarked on the current of prevailing + sentiment. “Mighty rough papers on the boys, and no show for money this + season. And tomorrow's Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + There was a movement among the men at this announcement, but whether of + satisfaction or disgust was not plain. “Yes,” continued the Old Man in the + lugubrious tone he had, within the last few moments, unconsciously + adopted,—“yes, Christmas, and to-night's Christmas eve. Ye see, + boys, I kinder thought—that is, I sorter had an idee, jest passin' + like, you know—that may be ye'd all like to come over to my house + to-night and have a sort of tear round. But I suppose, now, you wouldn't? + Don't feel like it, may be?” he added with anxious sympathy, peering into + the faces of his companions. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know,” responded Tom Flynn with some cheerfulness. “P'r'aps + we may. But how about your wife, Old Man? What does SHE say to it?” + </p> + <p> + The Old Man hesitated. His conjugal experience had not been a happy one, + and the fact was known to Simpson's Bar. His first wife, a delicate, + pretty little woman, had suffered keenly and secretly from the jealous + suspicions of her husband, until one day he invited the whole Bar to his + house to expose her infidelity. On arriving, the party found the shy, + petite creature quietly engaged in her household duties, and retired + abashed and discomfited. But the sensitive woman did not easily recover + from the shock of this extraordinary outrage. It was with difficulty she + regained her equanimity sufficiently to release her lover from the closet + in which he was concealed and escape with him. She left a boy of three + years to comfort her bereaved husband. The Old Man's present wife had been + his cook. She was large, loyal, and aggressive. + </p> + <p> + Before he could reply, Joe Dimmick suggested with great directness that it + was the “Old Man's house,” and that, invoking the Divine Power, if the + case were his own, he would invite whom he pleased, even if in so doing he + imperilled his salvation. The Powers of Evil, he further remarked, should + contend against him vainly. All this delivered with a terseness and vigor + lost in this necessary translation. + </p> + <p> + “In course. Certainly. Thet's it,” said the Old Man with a sympathetic + frown. “Thar's no trouble about THET. It's my own house, built every stick + on it myself. Don't you be afeard o' her, boys. She MAY cut up a trifle + rough,—ez wimmin do,—but she'll come round.” Secretly the Old + Man trusted to the exaltation of liquor and the power of courageous + example to sustain him in such an emergency. + </p> + <p> + As yet, Dick Bullen, the oracle and leader of Simpson's Bar, had not + spoken. He now took his pipe from his lips. “Old Man, how's that yer + Johnny gettin' on? Seems to me he didn't look so peart last time I seed + him on the bluff heavin' rocks at Chinamen. Didn't seem to take much + interest in it. Thar was a gang of 'em by yar yesterday,—drownded + out up the river,—and I kinder thought o' Johnny, and how he'd miss + 'em! May be now, we'd be in the way ef he wus sick?” + </p> + <p> + The father, evidently touched not only by this pathetic picture of + Johnny's deprivation, but by the considerate delicacy of the speaker, + hastened to assure him that Johnny was better and that a “little fun might + 'liven him up.” Whereupon Dick arose, shook himself, and saying, “I'm + ready. Lead the way, Old Man: here goes,” himself led the way with a leap, + a characteristic howl, and darted out into the night. As he passed through + the outer room he caught up a blazing brand from the hearth. The action + was repeated by the rest of the party, closely following and elbowing each + other, and before the astonished proprietor of Thompson's grocery was + aware of the intention of his guests, the room was deserted. + </p> + <p> + The night was pitchy dark. In the first gust of wind their temporary + torches were extinguished, and only the red brands dancing and flitting in + the gloom like drunken will-o'-the-wisps indicated their whereabouts. + Their way led up Pine-Tree Canyon, at the head of which a broad, low, + bark-thatched cabin burrowed in the mountain-side. It was the home of the + Old Man, and the entrance to the tunnel in which he worked when he worked + at all. Here the crowd paused for a moment, out of delicate deference to + their host, who came up panting in the rear. + </p> + <p> + “P'r'aps ye'd better hold on a second out yer, whilst I go in and see thet + things is all right,” said the Old Man, with an indifference he was far + from feeling. The suggestion was graciously accepted, the door opened and + closed on the host, and the crowd, leaning their backs against the wall + and cowering under the eaves, waited and listened. + </p> + <p> + For a few moments there was no sound but the dripping of water from the + eaves, and the stir and rustle of wrestling boughs above them. Then the + men became uneasy, and whispered suggestion and suspicion passed from the + one to the other. “Reckon she's caved in his head the first lick!” + “Decoyed him inter the tunnel and barred him up, likely.” “Got him down + and sittin' on him.” “Prob'ly bilin suthin to heave on us: stand clear the + door, boys!” For just then the latch clicked, the door slowly opened, and + a voice said, “Come in out o' the wet.” + </p> + <p> + The voice was neither that of the Old Man nor of his wife. It was the + voice of a small boy, its weak treble broken by that preternatural + hoarseness which only vagabondage and the habit of premature + self-assertion can give. It was the face of a small boy that looked up at + theirs,—a face that might have been pretty and even refined but that + it was darkened by evil knowledge from within, and dirt and hard + experience from without. He had a blanket around his shoulders and had + evidently just risen from his bed. “Come in,” he repeated, “and don't make + no noise. The Old Man's in there talking to mar,” he continued, pointing + to an adjacent room which seemed to be a kitchen, from which the Old Man's + voice came in deprecating accents. “Let me be,” he added, querulously, to + Dick Bullen, who had caught him up, blanket and all, and was affecting to + toss him into the fire, “let go o' me, you d——d old fool, d'ye + hear?” + </p> + <p> + Thus adjured, Dick Bullen lowered Johnny to the ground with a smothered + laugh, while the men, entering quietly, ranged themselves around a long + table of rough boards which occupied the centre of the room. Johnny then + gravely proceeded to a cupboard and brought out several articles which he + deposited on the table. “Thar's whiskey. And crackers. And red herons. And + cheese.” He took a bite of the latter on his way to the table. “And + sugar.” He scooped up a mouthful en route with a small and very dirty + hand. “And terbacker. Thar's dried appils too on the shelf, but I don't + admire 'em. Appils is swellin'. Thar,” he concluded, “now wade in, and + don't be afeard. I don't mind the old woman. She don't b'long to ME. + S'long.” + </p> + <p> + He had stepped to the threshold of a small room, scarcely larger than a + closet, partitioned off from the main apartment, and holding in its dim + recess a small bed. He stood there a moment looking at the company, his + bare feet peeping from the blanket, and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Johnny! You ain't goin' to turn in agin, are ye?” said Dick. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I are,” responded Johnny, decidedly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, wot's up, old fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sick.” + </p> + <p> + “How sick!” + </p> + <p> + “I've got a fevier. And childblains. And roomatiz,” returned Johnny, and + vanished within. After a moment's pause, he added in the dark, apparently + from under the bedclothes,—“And biles!” + </p> + <p> + There was an embarrassing silence. The men looked at each other, and at + the fire. Even with the appetizing banquet before them, it seemed as if + they might again fall into the despondency of Thompson's grocery, when the + voice of the Old Man, incautiously lifted, came deprecatingly from the + kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly! Thet's so. In course they is. A gang o' lazy drunken loafers, + and that ar Dick Bullen's the ornariest of all. Didn't hev no more sabe + than to come round yar with sickness in the house and no provision. Thet's + what I said: 'Bullen,' sez I, 'it's crazy drunk you are, or a fool,' sez + I, 'to think o' such a thing.' 'Staples,' I sez, 'be you a man, Staples, + and 'spect to raise h-ll under my roof and invalids lyin' round?' But they + would come,—they would. Thet's wot you must 'spect o' such trash as + lays round the Bar.” + </p> + <p> + A burst of laughter from the men followed this unfortunate exposure. + Whether it was overheard in the kitchen, or whether the Old Man's irate + companion had just then exhausted all other modes of expressing her + contemptuous indignation, I cannot say, but a back door was suddenly + slammed with great violence. A moment later and the Old Man reappeared, + haply unconscious of the cause of the late hilarious outburst, and smiled + blandly. + </p> + <p> + “The old woman thought she'd jest run over to Mrs. McFadden's for a + sociable call,” he explained, with jaunty indifference, as he took a seat + at the board. + </p> + <p> + Oddly enough it needed this untoward incident to relieve the embarrassment + that was beginning to be felt by the party, and their natural audacity + returned with their host. I do not propose to record the convivialities of + that evening. The inquisitive reader will accept the statement that the + conversation was characterized by the same intellectual exaltation, the + same cautious reverence, the same fastidious delicacy, the same rhetorical + precision, and the same logical and coherent discourse somewhat later in + the evening, which distinguish similar gatherings of the masculine sex in + more civilized localities and under more favorable auspices. No glasses + were broken in the absence of any; no liquor was uselessly spilt on floor + or table in the scarcity of that article. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly midnight when the festivities were interrupted. “Hush,” said + Dick Bullen, holding up his hand. It was the querulous voice of Johnny + from his adjacent closet: “O dad!” + </p> + <p> + The Old Man arose hurriedly and disappeared in the closet. Presently he + reappeared. “His rheumatiz is coming on agin bad,” he explained, “and he + wants rubbin'.” He lifted the demijohn of whiskey from the table and shook + it. It was empty. Dick Bullen put down his tin cup with an embarrassed + laugh. So did the others. The Old Man examined their contents and said + hopefully, “I reckon that's enough; he don't need much. You hold on all o' + you for a spell, and I'll be back”; and vanished in the closet with an old + flannel shirt and the whiskey. The door closed but imperfectly, and the + following dialogue was distinctly audible:— + </p> + <p> + “Now, Sonny, whar does she ache worst?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes over yar and sometimes under yer; but it's most powerful from + yer to yer. Rub yer, dad.” + </p> + <p> + A silence seemed to indicate a brisk rubbing. Then Johnny: + </p> + <p> + “Hevin' a good time out yer, dad?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sonny.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrer's Chrismiss, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sonny. How does she feel now?” + </p> + <p> + “Better rub a little furder down. Wot's Chrismiss, anyway? Wot's it all + about?” + </p> + <p> + “O, it's a day.” + </p> + <p> + This exhaustive definition was apparently satisfactory, for there was a + silent interval of rubbing. Presently Johnny again: + </p> + <p> + “Mar sez that everywhere else but yer everybody gives things to everybody + Chrismiss, and then she jist waded inter you. She sez thar's a man they + call Sandy Claws, not a white man, you know, but a kind o' Chinemin, comes + down the chimbley night afore Chrismiss and gives things to chillern,—boys + like me. Puts 'em in their butes! Thet's what she tried to play upon me. + Easy now, pop, whar are you rubbin' to,—thet's a mile from the + place. She jest made that up, didn't she, jest to aggrewate me and you? + Don't rub thar. . . . Why, dad!” + </p> + <p> + In the great quiet that seemed to have fallen upon the house the sigh of + the near pines and the drip of leaves without was very distinct. Johnny's + voice, too, was lowered as he went on, “Don't you take on now, fur I'm + gettin' all right fast. Wot's the boys doin' out thar?” + </p> + <p> + The Old Man partly opened the door and peered through. His guests were + sitting there sociably enough, and there were a few silver coins and a + lean buckskin purse on the table. “Bettin' on suthin,—some little + game or 'nother. They're all right,” he replied to Johnny, and recommenced + his rubbing. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to take a hand and win some money,” said Johnny, reflectively, + after a pause. + </p> + <p> + The Old Man glibly repeated what was evidently a familiar formula, that if + Johnny would wait until he struck it rich in the tunnel he'd have lots of + money, etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Johnny, “but you don't. And whether you strike it or I win it, + it's about the same. It's all luck. But it's mighty cur'o's about + Chrismiss,—ain't it? Why do they call it Chrismiss?” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps from some instinctive deference to the overhearing of his guests, + or from some vague sense of incongruity, the Old Man's reply was so low as + to be inaudible beyond the room. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Johnny, with some slight abatement of interest, “I've heerd o' + HIM before. Thar, that'll do, dad. I don't ache near so bad as I did. Now + wrap me tight in this yer blanket. So. Now,” he added in a muffled + whisper, “sit down yer by me till I go asleep.” To assure himself of + obedience, he disengaged one hand from the blanket and, grasping his + father's sleeve, again composed himself to rest. + </p> + <p> + For some moments the Old Man waited patiently. Then the unwonted stillness + of the house excited his curiosity, and without moving from the bed, he + cautiously opened the door with his disengaged hand, and looked into the + main room. To his infinite surprise it was dark and deserted. But even + then a smouldering log on the hearth broke, and by the upspringing blaze + he saw the figure of Dick Bullen sitting by the dying embers. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” + </p> + <p> + Dick started, rose, and came somewhat unsteadily toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Whar's the boys?” said the Old Man. + </p> + <p> + “Gone up the canyon on a little pasear. They're coming back for me in a + minit. I'm waitin' round for 'em. What are you starin' at, Old Man?” he + added with a forced laugh; “do you think I'm drunk?” + </p> + <p> + The Old Man might have been pardoned the supposition, for Dick's eyes were + humid and his face flushed. He loitered and lounged back to the chimney, + yawned, shook himself, buttoned up his coat and laughed. “Liquor ain't so + plenty as that, Old Man. Now don't you git up,” he continued, as the Old + Man made a movement to release his sleeve from Johnny's hand. “Don't you + mind manners. Sit jest whar you be; I'm goin' in a jiffy. Thar, that's + them now.” + </p> + <p> + There was a low tap at the door. Dick Bullen opened it quickly, nodded + “Good night” to his host, and disappeared. The Old Man would have followed + him but for the hand that still unconsciously grasped his sleeve. He could + have easily disengaged it: it was small, weak, and emaciated. But perhaps + because it WAS small, weak, and emaciated, he changed his mind, and, + drawing his chair closer to the bed, rested his head upon it. In this + defenceless attitude the potency of his earlier potations surprised him. + The room flickered and faded before his eyes, reappeared, faded again, + went out, and left him—asleep. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Dick Bullen, closing the door, confronted his companions. “Are + you ready?” said Staples. “Ready,” said Dick; “what's the time?” “Past + twelve,” was the reply; “can you make it?—it's nigh on fifty miles, + the round trip hither and yon.” “I reckon,” returned Dick, shortly. + “Whar's the mare?” “Bill and Jack's holdin' her at the crossin'.” “Let 'em + hold on a minit longer,” said Dick. + </p> + <p> + He turned and re-entered the house softly. By the light of the guttering + candle and dying fire he saw that the door of the little room was open. He + stepped toward it on tiptoe and looked in. The Old Man had fallen back in + his chair, snoring, his helpless feet thrust out in a line with his + collapsed shoulders, and his hat pulled over his eyes. Beside him, on a + narrow wooden bedstead, lay Johnny, muffled tightly in a blanket that hid + all save a strip of forehead and a few curls damp with perspiration. Dick + Bullen made a step forward, hesitated, and glanced over his shoulder into + the deserted room. Everything was quiet. With a sudden resolution he + parted his huge mustaches with both hands and stooped over the sleeping + boy. But even as he did so a mischievous blast, lying in wait, swooped + down the chimney, rekindled the hearth, and lit up the room with a + shameless glow from which Dick fled in bashful terror. + </p> + <p> + His companions were already waiting for him at the crossing. Two of them + were struggling in the darkness with some strange misshapen bulk, which as + Dick came nearer took the semblance of a great yellow horse. + </p> + <p> + It was the mare. She was not a pretty picture. From her Roman nose to her + rising haunches, from her arched spine hidden by the stiff machillas of a + Mexican saddle, to her thick, straight, bony legs, there was not a line of + equine grace. In her half-blind but wholly vicious white eyes, in her + protruding under lip, in her monstrous color, there was nothing but + ugliness and vice. + </p> + <p> + “Now then,” said Staples, “stand cl'ar of her heels, boys, and up with + you. Don't miss your first holt of her mane, and mind ye get your off + stirrup QUICK. Ready!” + </p> + <p> + There was a leap, a scrambling struggle, a bound, a wild retreat of the + crowd, a circle of flying hoofs, two springless leaps that jarred the + earth, a rapid play and jingle of spurs, a plunge, and then the voice of + Dick somewhere in the darkness, “All right!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't take the lower road back onless you're hard pushed for time! Don't + hold her in down hill! We'll be at the ford at five. G'lang! Hoopa! Mula! + GO!” + </p> + <p> + A splash, a spark struck from the ledge in the road, a clatter in the + rocky cut beyond, and Dick was gone. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Sing, O Muse, the ride of Richard Bullen! Sing, O Muse of chivalrous men! + the sacred quest, the doughty deeds, the battery of low churls, the + fearsome ride and grewsome perils of the Flower of Simpson's Bar! Alack! + she is dainty, this Muse! She will have none of this bucking brute and + swaggering, ragged rider, and I must fain follow him in prose, afoot! + </p> + <p> + It was one o'clock, and yet he had only gained Rattlesnake Hill. For in + that time Jovita had rehearsed to him all her imperfections and practised + all her vices. Thrice had she stumbled. Twice had she thrown up her Roman + nose in a straight line with the reins, and, resisting bit and spur, + struck out madly across country. Twice had she reared, and, rearing, + fallen backward; and twice had the agile Dick, unharmed, regained his seat + before she found her vicious legs again. And a mile beyond them, at the + foot of a long hill, was Rattlesnake Creek. Dick knew that here was the + crucial test of his ability to perform his enterprise, set his teeth + grimly, put his knees well into her flanks, and changed his defensive + tactics to brisk aggression. Bullied and maddened, Jovita began the + descent of the hill. Here the artful Richard pretended to hold her in with + ostentatious objurgation and well-feigned cries of alarm. It is + unnecessary to add that Jovita instantly ran away. Nor need I state the + time made in the descent; it is written in the chronicles of Simpson's + Bar. Enough that in another moment, as it seemed to Dick, she was + splashing on the overflowed banks of Rattlesnake Creek. As Dick expected, + the momentum she had acquired carried her beyond the point of balking, + and, holding her well together for a mighty leap, they dashed into the + middle of the swiftly flowing current. A few moments of kicking, wading, + and swimming, and Dick drew a long breath on the opposite bank. + </p> + <p> + The road from Rattlesnake Creek to Red Mountain was tolerably level. + Either the plunge in Rattlesnake Creek had dampened her baleful fire, or + the art which led to it had shown her the superior wickedness of her + rider, for Jovita no longer wasted her surplus energy in wanton conceits. + Once she bucked, but it was from force of habit; once she shied, but it + was from a new freshly painted meeting-house at the crossing of the county + road. Hollows, ditches, gravelly deposits, patches of freshly springing + grasses, flew from beneath her rattling hoofs. She began to smell + unpleasantly, once or twice she coughed slightly, but there was no + abatement of her strength or speed. By two o'clock he had passed Red + Mountain and begun the descent to the plain. Ten minutes later the driver + of the fast Pioneer coach was overtaken and passed by a “man on a Pinto + hoss,”—an event sufficiently notable for remark. At half past two + Dick rose in his stirrups with a great shout. Stars were glittering + through the rifted clouds, and beyond him, out of the plain, rose two + spires, a flagstaff, and a straggling line of black objects. Dick jingled + his spurs and swung his riata, Jovita bounded forward, and in another + moment they swept into Tuttleville and drew up before the wooden piazza of + “The Hotel of All Nations.” + </p> + <p> + What transpired that night at Tuttleville is not strictly a part of this + record. Briefly I may state, however, that after Jovita had been handed + over to a sleepy ostler, whom she at once kicked into unpleasant + consciousness, Dick sallied out with the bar-keeper for a tour of the + sleeping town. Lights still gleamed from a few saloons and + gambling-houses; but, avoiding these, they stopped before several closed + shops, and by persistent tapping and judicious outcry roused the + proprietors from their beds, and made them unbar the doors of their + magazines and expose their wares. Sometimes they were met by curses, but + oftener by interest and some concern in their needs, and the interview was + invariably concluded by a drink. It was three o'clock before this + pleasantry was given over, and with a small waterproof bag of india-rubber + strapped on his shoulders Dick returned to the hotel. But here he was + waylaid by Beauty,—Beauty opulent in charms, affluent in dress, + persuasive in speech, and Spanish in accent! In vain she repeated the + invitation in “Excelsior,” happily scorned by all Alpine-climbing youth, + and rejected by this child of the Sierras,—a rejection softened in + this instance by a laugh and his last gold coin. And then he sprang to the + saddle and dashed down the lonely street and out into the lonelier plain, + where presently the lights, the black line of houses, the spires, and the + flagstaff sank into the earth behind him again and were lost in the + distance. + </p> + <p> + The storm had cleared away, the air was brisk and cold, the outlines of + adjacent landmarks were distinct, but it was half past four before Dick + reached the meeting-house and the crossing of the county road. To avoid + the rising grade he had taken a longer and more circuitous road, in whose + viscid mud Jovita sank fetlock deep at every bound. It was a poor + preparation for a steady ascent of five miles more; but Jovita, gathering + her legs under her, took it with her usual blind, unreasoning fury, and a + half-hour later reached the long level that led to Rattlesnake Creek. + Another half-hour would bring him to the creek. He threw the reins lightly + upon the neck of the mare, chirruped to her, and began to sing. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Jovita shied with a bound that would have unseated a less + practised rider. Hanging to her rein was a figure that had leaped from the + bank, and at the same time from the road before her arose a shadowy horse + and rider. “Throw up your hands,” commanded this second apparition, with + an oath. + </p> + <p> + Dick felt the mare tremble, quiver, and apparently sink under him. He knew + what it meant and was prepared. + </p> + <p> + “Stand aside, Jack Simpson, I know you, you d——d thief. Let me + pass or—” + </p> + <p> + He did not finish the sentence. Jovita rose straight in the air with a + terrific bound, throwing the figure from her bit with a single shake of + her vicious head, and charged with deadly malevolence down on the + impediment before her. An oath, a pistol-shot, horse and highwayman rolled + over in the road, and the next moment Jovita was a hundred yards away. But + the good right arm of her rider, shattered by a bullet, dropped helplessly + at his side. + </p> + <p> + Without slacking his speed he shifted the reins to his left hand. But a + few moments later he was obliged to halt and tighten the saddle-girths + that had slipped in the onset. This in his crippled condition took some + time. He had no fear of pursuit, but looking up he saw that the eastern + stars were already paling, and that the distant peaks had lost their + ghostly whiteness, and now stood out blackly against a lighter sky. Day + was upon him. Then completely absorbed in a single idea, he forgot the + pain of his wound, and mounting again dashed on toward Rattlesnake Creek. + But now Jovita's breath came broken by gasps, Dick reeled in his saddle, + and brighter and brighter grew the sky. + </p> + <p> + Ride, Richard; run, Jovita; linger, O day! + </p> + <p> + For the last few rods there was a roaring in his ears. Was it exhaustion + from loss of blood, or what? He was dazed and giddy as he swept down the + hill, and did not recognize his surroundings. Had he taken the wrong road, + or was this Rattlesnake Creek? + </p> + <p> + It was. But the brawling creek he had swam a few hours before had risen, + more than doubled its volume, and now rolled a swift and resistless river + between him and Rattlesnake Hill. For the first time that night Richard's + heart sank within him. The river, the mountain, the quickening east, swam + before his eyes. He shut them to recover his self-control. In that brief + interval, by some fantastic mental process, the little room at Simpson's + Bar and the figures of the sleeping father and son rose upon him. He + opened his eyes wildly, cast off his coat, pistol, boots, and saddle, + bound his precious pack tightly to his shoulders, grasped the bare flanks + of Jovita with his bared knees, and with a shout dashed into the yellow + water. A cry rose from the opposite bank as the head of a man and horse + struggled for a few moments against the battling current, and then were + swept away amidst uprooted trees and whirling drift-wood. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The Old Man started and woke. The fire on the hearth was dead, the candle + in the outer room flickering in its socket, and somebody was rapping at + the door. He opened it, but fell back with a cry before the dripping + half-naked figure that reeled against the doorpost. + </p> + <p> + “Dick?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Is he awake yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No,—but, Dick?—” + </p> + <p> + “Dry up, you old fool! Get me some whiskey QUICK!” The Old Man flew and + returned with—an empty bottle! Dick would have sworn, but his + strength was not equal to the occasion. He staggered, caught at the handle + of the door, and motioned to the Old Man. + </p> + <p> + “Thar's suthin' in my pack yer for Johnny. Take it off. I can't.” + </p> + <p> + The Old Man unstrapped the pack and laid it before the exhausted man. + </p> + <p> + “Open it, quick!” + </p> + <p> + He did so with trembling fingers. It contained only a few poor toys,—cheap + and barbaric enough, goodness knows, but bright with paint and tinsel. One + of them was broken; another, I fear, was irretrievably ruined by water; + and on the third—ah me! there was a cruel spot. + </p> + <p> + “It don't look like much, that's a fact,” said Dick, ruefully . . . . “But + it's the best we could do. . . . Take 'em, Old Man, and put 'em in his + stocking, and tell him—tell him, you know—hold me, Old Man—” + The Old Man caught at his sinking figure. “Tell him,” said Dick, with a + weak little laugh,—“tell him Sandy Claus has come.” + </p> + <p> + And even so, bedraggled, ragged, unshaven and unshorn, with one arm + hanging helplessly at his side, Santa Claus came to Simpson's Bar and fell + fainting on the first threshold. The Christmas dawn came slowly after, + touching the remoter peaks with the rosy warmth of ineffable love. And it + looked so tenderly on Simpson's Bar that the whole mountain as if caught + in a generous action, blushed to the skies. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS. + </h2> + <p> + She was a Klamath Indian. Her title was, I think, a compromise between her + claim as daughter of a chief, and gratitude to her earliest white + protector, whose name, after the Indian fashion, she had adopted. “Bob” + Walker had taken her from the breast of her dead mother at a time when the + sincere volunteer soldiery of the California frontier were impressed with + the belief that extermination was the manifest destiny of the Indian race. + He had with difficulty restrained the noble zeal of his compatriots long + enough to convince them that the exemption of one Indian baby would not + invalidate this theory. And he took her to his home,—a pastoral + clearing on the banks of the Salmon River,—where she was cared for + after a frontier fashion. + </p> + <p> + Before she was nine years old, she had exhausted the scant kindliness of + the thin, overworked Mrs. Walker. As a playfellow of the young Walkers she + was unreliable; as a nurse for the baby she was inefficient. She lost the + former in the trackless depths of a redwood forest; she basely abandoned + the latter in an extemporized cradle, hanging like a chrysalis to a + convenient bough. She lied and she stole,—two unpardonable sins in a + frontier community, where truth was a necessity and provisions were the + only property. Worse than this, the outskirts of the clearing were + sometimes haunted by blanketed tatterdemalions with whom she had + mysterious confidences. Mr. Walker more than once regretted his indiscreet + humanity; but she presently relieved him of responsibility, and possibly + of bloodguiltiness, by disappearing entirely. + </p> + <p> + When she reappeared, it was at the adjacent village of Logport, in the + capacity of housemaid to a trader's wife, who, joining some little culture + to considerable conscientiousness, attempted to instruct her charge. But + the Princess proved an unsatisfactory pupil to even so liberal a teacher. + She accepted the alphabet with great good-humor, but always as a pleasing + and recurring novelty, in which all interest expired at the completion of + each lesson. She found a thousand uses for her books and writing materials + other than those known to civilized children. She made a curious necklace + of bits of slate-pencil, she constructed a miniature canoe from the + pasteboard covers of her primer, she bent her pens into fish-hooks, and + tattooed the faces of her younger companions with blue ink. Religious + instruction she received as good-humoredly, and learned to pronounce the + name of the Deity with a cheerful familiarity that shocked her + preceptress. Nor could her reverence be reached through analogy; she knew + nothing of the Great Spirit, and professed entire ignorance of the Happy + Hunting-Grounds. Yet she attended divine service regularly, and as + regularly asked for a hymn-book; and it was only through the discovery + that she had collected twenty-five of these volumes and had hidden them + behind the woodpile, that her connection with the First Baptist Church of + Logport ceased. She would occasionally abandon these civilized and + Christian privileges, and disappear from her home, returning after several + days of absence with an odor of bark and fish, and a peace-offering to her + mistress in the shape of venison or game. + </p> + <p> + To add to her troubles, she was now fourteen, and, according to the laws + of her race, a woman. I do not think the most romantic fancy would have + called her pretty. Her complexion defied most of those ambiguous similes + through which poets unconsciously apologize for any deviation from the + Caucasian standard. It was not wine nor amber colored; if anything, it was + smoky. Her face was tattooed with red and white lines on one cheek, as if + a duo-toothed comb had been drawn from cheek-bone to jaw, and, but for the + good-humor that beamed from her small berry-like eyes and shone in her + white teeth, would have been repulsive. She was short and stout. In her + scant drapery and unrestrained freedom she was hardly statuesque, and her + more unstudied attitudes were marred by a simian habit of softly + scratching her left ankle with the toes of her right foot, in moments of + contemplation. + </p> + <p> + I think I have already shown enough to indicate the incongruity of her + existence with even the low standard of civilization that obtained at + Logport in the year 1860. It needed but one more fact to prove the + far-sighted poetical sagacity and prophetic ethics of those sincere + advocates of extermination, to whose virtues I have done but scant justice + in the beginning of this article. This fact was presently furnished by the + Princess. After one of her periodical disappearances,—this time + unusually prolonged,—she astonished Logport by returning with a + half-breed baby of a week old in her arms. That night a meeting of the + hard-featured serious matrons of Logport was held at Mrs. Brown's. The + immediate banishment of the Princess was demanded. Soft-hearted Mrs. Brown + endeavored vainly to get a mitigation or suspension of the sentence. But, + as on a former occasion, the Princess took matters into her own hands. A + few mornings afterwards, a wicker cradle containing an Indian baby was + found hanging on the handle of the door of the First Baptist Church. It + was the Parthian arrow of the flying Princess. From that day Logport knew + her no more. + </p> + <p> + It had been a bright clear day on the upland, so clear that the ramparts + of Fort Jackson and the flagstaff were plainly visible twelve miles away + from the long curving peninsula that stretched a bared white arm around + the peaceful waters of Logport Bay. It had been a clear day upon the + sea-shore, albeit the air was filled with the flying spume and shifting + sand of a straggling beach whose low dunes were dragged down by the long + surges of the Pacific and thrown up again by the tumultuous trade-winds. + But the sun had gone down in a bank of fleecy fog that was beginning to + roll in upon the beach. Gradually the headland at the entrance of the + harbor and the lighthouse disappeared, then the willow fringe that marked + the line of Salmon River vanished, and the ocean was gone. A few sails + still gleamed on the waters of the bay; but the advancing fog wiped them + out one by one, crept across the steel-blue expanse, swallowed up the + white mills and single spire of Logport, and, joining with reinforcements + from the marshes, moved solemnly upon the hills. Ten minutes more and the + landscape was utterly blotted out; simultaneously the wind died away, and + a death-like silence stole over sea and shore. The faint clang, high + overhead, of unseen brent, the nearer call of invisible plover, the lap + and wash of undistinguishable waters, and the monotonous roll of the + vanished ocean, were the only sounds. As night deepened, the far-off + booming of the fog-bell on the headland at intervals stirred the thick + air. + </p> + <p> + Hard by the shore of the bay, and half hidden by a drifting sand-hill, + stood a low nondescript structure, to whose composition sea and shore had + equally contributed. It was built partly of logs and partly of driftwood + and tarred canvas. Joined to one end of the main building—the + ordinary log-cabin of the settler—was the half-round pilot-house of + some wrecked steamer, while the other gable terminated in half of a broken + whale-boat. Nailed against the boat were the dried skins of wild animals, + and scattered about lay the flotsam and jetsam of many years' gathering,—bamboo + crates, casks, hatches, blocks, oars, boxes, part of a whale's vertebrae, + and the blades of sword-fish. Drawn up on the beach of a little cove + before the house lay a canoe. As the night thickened and the fog grew more + dense, these details grew imperceptible, and only the windows of the + pilot-house, lit up by a roaring fire within the hut, gleamed redly + through the mist. + </p> + <p> + By this fire, beneath a ship's lamp that swung from the roof, two figures + were seated, a man and a woman. The man, broad-shouldered and heavily + bearded, stretched his listless powerful length beyond a broken bamboo + chair, with his eyes fixed on the fire. The woman crouched cross-legged + upon the broad earthen hearth, with her eyes blinkingly fixed on her + companion. They were small, black, round, berry-like eyes, and as the + firelight shone upon her smoky face, with its one striped cheek of + gorgeous brilliancy, it was plainly the Princess Bob and no other. + </p> + <p> + Not a word was spoken. They had been sitting thus for more than an hour, + and there was about their attitude a suggestion that silence was habitual. + Once or twice the man rose and walked up and down the narrow room, or + gazed absently from the windows of the pilot-house, but never by look or + sign betrayed the slightest consciousness of his companion. At such times + the Princess from her nest by the fire followed him with eyes of canine + expectancy and wistfulness. But he would as inevitably return to his + contemplation of the fire, and the Princess to her blinking watchfulness + of his face. + </p> + <p> + They had sat there silent and undisturbed for many an evening in fair + weather and foul. They had spent many a day in sunshine and storm, + gathering the unclaimed spoil of sea and shore. They had kept these mute + relations, varied only by the incidents of the hunt or meagre household + duties, for three years, ever since the man, wandering moodily over the + lonely sands, had fallen upon the half-starved woman lying in the little + hollow where she had crawled to die. It had seemed as if they would never + be disturbed, until now, when the Princess started, and, with the instinct + of her race, bent her ear to the ground. + </p> + <p> + The wind had risen and was rattling the tarred canvas. But in another + moment there plainly came from without the hut the sound of voices. Then + followed a rap at the door; then another rap; and then, before they could + rise to their feet, the door was flung briskly open. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said a pleasant but somewhat decided contralto voice, + “but I don't think you heard me knock. Ah, I see you did not. May I come + in?” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. Had the battered figurehead of the Goddess of Liberty, + which lay deeply embedded in the sand on the beach, suddenly appeared at + the door demanding admittance, the occupants of the cabin could not have + been more speechlessly and hopelessly astonished than at the form which + stood in the open doorway. + </p> + <p> + It was that of a slim, shapely, elegantly dressed young woman. A + scarlet-lined silken hood was half thrown back from the shining mass of + the black hair that covered her small head; from her pretty shoulders + dropped a fur cloak, only restrained by a cord and tassel in her small + gloved hand. Around her full throat was a double necklace of large white + beads, that by some cunning feminine trick relieved with its infantile + suggestion the strong decision of her lower face. + </p> + <p> + “Did you say yes? Ah, thank you. We may come in, Barker.” (Here a shadow + in a blue army overcoat followed her into the cabin, touched its cap + respectfully, and then stood silent and erect against the wall.) “Don't + disturb yourself in the least, I beg. What a distressingly unpleasant + night! Is this your usual climate?” + </p> + <p> + Half graciously, half absently overlooking the still embarrassed silence + of the group, she went on: “We started from the fort over three hours ago,—three + hours ago, wasn't it, Barker?” (the erect Barker touched his cap,)—“to + go to Captain Emmons's quarters on Indian Island,—I think you call + it Indian Island, don't you?” (she was appealing to the awe-stricken + Princess,)—“and we got into the fog and lost our way; that is, + Barker lost his way,” (Barker touched his cap deprecatingly,) “and + goodness knows where we didn't wander to until we mistook your light for + the lighthouse and pulled up here. No, no, pray keep your seat, do! Really + I must insist.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing could exceed the languid grace of the latter part of this speech,—nothing + except the easy unconsciousness with which she glided by the offered chair + of her stammering, embarrassed host and stood beside the open hearth. + </p> + <p> + “Barker will tell you,” she continued, warming her feet by the fire, “that + I am Miss Portfire, daughter of Major Portfire, commanding the post. Ah, + excuse me, child!” (She had accidentally trodden upon the bare yellow toes + of the Princess.) “Really, I did not know you were there. I am very + near-sighted.” (In confirmation of her statement, she put to her eyes a + dainty double eyeglass that dangled from her neck.) “It's a shocking thing + to be near-sighted, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + If the shamefaced uneasy man to whom this remark was addressed could have + found words to utter the thought that even in his confusion struggled + uppermost in his mind, he would, looking at the bold, dark eyes that + questioned him, have denied the fact. But he only stammered, “Yes.” The + next moment, however, Miss Portfire had apparently forgotten him and was + examining the Princess through her glass. + </p> + <p> + “And what is your name, child?” + </p> + <p> + The Princess, beatified by the eyes and eyeglass, showed all her white + teeth at once, and softly scratched her leg. + </p> + <p> + “Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “Bob? What a singular name!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Portfire's host here hastened to explain the origin of the Princess's + title. + </p> + <p> + “Then YOU are Bob.” (Eye-glass.) + </p> + <p> + “No, my name is Grey,—John Grey.” And he actually achieved a bow + where awkwardness was rather the air of imperfectly recalling a forgotten + habit. + </p> + <p> + “Grey?—ah, let me see. Yes, certainly. You are Mr. Grey the recluse, + the hermit, the philosopher, and all that sort of thing. Why, certainly; + Dr. Jones, our surgeon, has told me all about you. Dear me, how + interesting a rencontre! Lived all alone here for seven—was it seven + years?—yes, I remember now. Existed quite au naturel, one might say. + How odd! Not that I know anything about that sort of thing, you know. I've + lived always among people, and am really quite a stranger, I assure you. + But honestly, Mr.—I beg your pardon—Mr. Grey, how do you like + it?” + </p> + <p> + She had quietly taken his chair and thrown her cloak and hood over its + back, and was now thoughtfully removing her gloves. Whatever were the + arguments,—and they were doubtless many and profound,—whatever + the experience,—and it was doubtless hard and satisfying enough,—by + which this unfortunate man had justified his life for the last seven + years, somehow they suddenly became trivial and terribly ridiculous before + this simple but practical question. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you shall tell me all about it after you have given me something to + eat. We will have time enough; Barker cannot find his way back in this fog + to-night. Now don't put yourselves to any trouble on my account. Barker + will assist?” + </p> + <p> + Barker came forward. Glad to escape the scrutiny of his guest, the hermit + gave a few rapid directions to the Princess in her native tongue, and + disappeared in the shed. Left a moment alone, Miss Portfire took a quick, + half-audible, feminine inventory of the cabin. “Books, guns, skins, ONE + chair, ONE bed, no pictures, and no looking-glass!” She took a book from + the swinging shelf and resumed her seat by the fire as the Princess + re-entered with fresh fuel. But while kneeling on the hearth the Princess + chanced to look up and met Miss Portfire's dark eyes over the edge of her + book. + </p> + <p> + “Bob!” + </p> + <p> + The Princess showed her teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Listen. Would you like to have fine clothes, rings, and beads like these, + to have your hair nicely combed and put up so? Would you?” + </p> + <p> + The Princess nodded violently. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to live with me and have them? Answer quickly. Don't look + round for HIM. Speak for yourself. Would you? Hush; never mind now.” + </p> + <p> + The hermit re-entered, and the Princess, blinking, retreated into the + shadow of the whale-boat shed, from which she did not emerge even when the + homely repast of cold venison, ship biscuit, and tea was served. Miss + Portfire noticed her absence: “You really must not let me interfere with + your usual simple ways. Do you know this is exceedingly interesting to me, + so pastoral and patriarchal and all that sort of thing. I must insist upon + the Princess coming back; really, I must.” + </p> + <p> + But the Princess was not to be found in the shed, and Miss Portfire, who + the next minute seemed to have forgotten all about her, took her place in + the single chair before an extemporized table. Barker stood behind her, + and the hermit leaned against the fireplace. Miss Portfire's appetite did + not come up to her protestations. For the first time in seven years it + occurred to the hermit that his ordinary victual might be improved. He + stammered out something to that effect. + </p> + <p> + “I have eaten better, and worse,” said Miss Portfire, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “But I thought you—that is, you said—” + </p> + <p> + “I spent a year in the hospitals, when father was on the Potomac,” + returned Miss Portfire, composedly. After a pause she continued: “You + remember after the second Bull Run—But, dear me! I beg your pardon; + of course, you know nothing about the war and all that sort of thing, and + don't care.” (She put up her eye-glass and quietly surveyed his broad + muscular figure against the chimney.) “Or, perhaps, your prejudices—But + then, as a hermit you know you have no politics, of course. Please don't + let me bore you.” + </p> + <p> + To have been strictly consistent, the hermit should have exhibited no + interest in this topic. Perhaps it was owing to some quality in the + narrator, but he was constrained to beg her to continue in such phrases as + his unfamiliar lips could command. So that, little by little, Miss + Portfire yielded up incident and personal observation of the contest then + raging; with the same half-abstracted, half-unconcerned air that seemed + habitual to her, she told the stories of privation, of suffering, of + endurance, and of sacrifice. With the same assumption of timid deference + that concealed her great self-control, she talked of principles and + rights. Apparently without enthusiasm and without effort, of which his + morbid nature would have been suspicious, she sang the great American + Iliad in a way that stirred the depths of her solitary auditor to its + massive foundations. Then she stopped and asked quietly, “Where is Bob?” + </p> + <p> + The hermit started. He would look for her. But Bob, for some reason, was + not forthcoming. Search was made within and without the hut, but in vain. + For the first time that evening Miss Portfire showed some anxiety. “Go,” + she said to Barker, “and find her. She MUST be found; stay, give me your + overcoat, I'll go myself.” She threw the overcoat over her shoulders and + stepped out into the night. In the thick veil of fog that seemed suddenly + to inwrap her, she stood for a moment irresolute, and then walked toward + the beach, guided by the low wash of waters on the sand. She had not taken + many steps before she stumbled over some dark crouching object. Reaching + down her hand she felt the coarse wiry mane of the Princess. + </p> + <p> + “Bob!” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Bob. I've been looking for you, come.” + </p> + <p> + “Go 'way.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Bob. I want you to stay with me to-night, come.” + </p> + <p> + “Injin squaw no good for waugee woman. Go 'way.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Bob. You are daughter of a chief: so am I. Your father had many + warriors: so has mine. It is good that you stay with me. Come.” + </p> + <p> + The Princess chuckled and suffered herself to be lifted up. A few moments + later and they re-entered the hut, hand in hand. + </p> + <p> + With the first red streaks of dawn the next day the erect Barker touched + his cap at the door of the hut. Beside him stood the hermit, also just + risen from his blanketed nest in the sand. Forth from the hut, fresh as + the morning air, stepped Miss Portfire, leading the Princess by the hand. + Hand in hand also they walked to the shore, and when the Princess had been + safely bestowed in the stern sheets, Miss Portfire turned and held out her + own to her late host. + </p> + <p> + “I shall take the best of care of her, of course. You will come and see + her often. I should ask you to come and see me, but you are a hermit, you + know, and all that sort of thing. But if it's the correct anchorite thing, + and can be done, my father will be glad to requite you for this night's + hospitality. But don't do anything on my account that interferes with your + simple habits. Good by.” + </p> + <p> + She handed him a card, which he took mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “Good by.” + </p> + <p> + The sail was hoisted, and the boat shoved off. As the fresh morning breeze + caught the white canvas it seemed to bow a parting salutation. There was a + rosy flash of promise on the water, and as the light craft darted forward + toward the ascending sun, it seemed for a moment uplifted in its glory. + </p> + <p> + Miss Portfire kept her word. If thoughtful care and intelligent kindness + could regenerate the Princess, her future was secure. And it really seemed + as if she were for the first time inclined to heed the lessons of + civilization and profit by her new condition. An agreeable change was + first noticed in her appearance. Her lawless hair was caught in a net, and + no longer strayed over her low forehead. Her unstable bust was stayed and + upheld by French corsets; her plantigrade shuffle was limited by heeled + boots. Her dresses were neat and clean, and she wore a double necklace of + glass beads. With this physical improvement there also seemed some moral + awakening. She no longer stole nor lied. With the possession of personal + property came a respect for that of others. With increased dependence on + the word of those about her came a thoughtful consideration of her own. + Intellectually she was still feeble, although she grappled sturdily with + the simple lessons which Miss Portfire set before her. But her zeal and + simple vanity outran her discretion, and she would often sit for hours + with an open book before her, which she could not read. She was a favorite + with the officers at the fort, from the Major, who shared his daughter's + prejudices and often yielded to her powerful self-will, to the subalterns, + who liked her none the less that their natural enemies, the frontier + volunteers, had declared war against her helpless sisterhood. The only + restraint put upon her was the limitation of her liberty to the enclosure + of the fort and parade; and only once did she break this parole, and was + stopped by the sentry as she stepped into a boat at the landing. + </p> + <p> + The recluse did not avail himself of Miss Portfire's invitation. But after + the departure of the Princess he spent less of his time in the hut, and + was more frequently seen in the distant marshes of Eel River and on the + upland hills. A feverish restlessness, quite opposed to his usual phlegm, + led him into singular freaks strangely inconsistent with his usual habits + and reputation. The purser of the occasional steamer which stopped at + Logport with the mails reported to have been boarded, just inside the bar, + by a strange bearded man, who asked for a newspaper containing the last + war telegrams. He tore his red shirt into narrow strips, and spent two + days with his needle over the pieces and the tattered remnant of his only + white garment; and a few days afterward the fishermen on the bay were + surprised to see what, on nearer approach, proved to be a rude imitation + of the national flag floating from a spar above the hut. + </p> + <p> + One evening, as the fog began to drift over the sand-hills, the recluse + sat alone in his hut. The fire was dying unheeded on the hearth, for he + had been sitting there for a long time, completely absorbed in the blurred + pages of an old newspaper. Presently he arose, and, refolding it,—an + operation of great care and delicacy in its tattered condition,—placed + it under the blankets of his bed. He resumed his seat by the fire, but + soon began drumming with his fingers on the arm of his chair. Eventually + this assumed the time and accent of some air. Then he began to whistle + softly and hesitatingly, as if trying to recall a forgotten tune. Finally + this took shape in a rude resemblance, not unlike that which his flag bore + to the national standard, to Yankee Doodle. Suddenly he stopped. + </p> + <p> + There was an unmistakable rapping at the door. The blood which had at + first rushed to his face now forsook it and settled slowly around his + heart. He tried to rise, but could not. Then the door was flung open, and + a figure with a scarlet-lined hood and fur mantle stood on the threshold. + With a mighty effort he took one stride to the door. The next moment he + saw the wide mouth and white teeth of the Princess, and was greeted by a + kiss that felt like a baptism. + </p> + <p> + To tear the hood and mantle from her figure in the sudden fury that seized + him, and to fiercely demand the reason of this masquerade, was his only + return to her greeting. “Why are you here? did you steal these garments?” + he again demanded in her guttural language, as he shook her roughly by the + arm. The Princess hung her head. “Did you?” he screamed, as he reached + wildly for his rifle. + </p> + <p> + “I did?” + </p> + <p> + His hold relaxed, and he staggered back against the wall. The Princess + began to whimper. Between her sobs, she was trying to explain that the + Major and his daughter were going away, and that they wanted to send her + to the Reservation; but he cut her short. “Take off those things!” The + Princess tremblingly obeyed. He rolled them up, placed them in the canoe + she had just left, and then leaped into the frail craft. She would have + followed, but with a great oath he threw her from him, and with one stroke + of his paddle swept out into the fog, and was gone. + </p> + <p> + “Jessamy,” said the Major, a few days after, as he sat at dinner with his + daughter, “I think I can tell you something to match the mysterious + disappearance and return of your wardrobe. Your crazy friend, the recluse, + has enlisted this morning in the Fourth Artillery. He's a splendid-looking + animal, and there's the right stuff for a soldier in him, if I'm not + mistaken. He's in earnest too, for he enlists in the regiment ordered back + to Washington. Bless me, child, another goblet broken; you'll ruin the + mess in glassware, at this rate!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard anything more of the Princess, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, but perhaps it's as well that she has gone. These cursed + settlers are at their old complaints again about what they call 'Indian + depredations,' and I have just received orders from head-quarters to keep + the settlement clear of all vagabond aborigines. I am afraid, my dear, + that a strict construction of the term would include your protegee.” + </p> + <p> + The time for the departure of the Fourth Artillery had come. The night + before was thick and foggy. At one o'clock, a shot on the ramparts called + out the guard and roused the sleeping garrison. The new sentry, Private + Grey, had challenged a dusky figure creeping on the glacis, and, receiving + no answer, had fired. The guard sent out presently returned, bearing a + lifeless figure in their arms. The new sentry's zeal, joined with an + ex-frontiersman's aim, was fatal. + </p> + <p> + They laid the helpless, ragged form before the guard-house door, and then + saw for the first time that it was the Princess. Presently she opened her + eyes. They fell upon the agonized face of her innocent slayer, but haply + without intelligence or reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Georgy!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Bob!” + </p> + <p> + “All's same now. Me get plenty well soon. Me make no more fuss. Me go to + Reservation.” + </p> + <p> + Then she stopped, a tremor ran through her limbs, and she lay still. She + had gone to the Reservation. Not that devised by the wisdom of man, but + that one set apart from the foundation of the world for the wisest as well + as the meanest of His creatures. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR. + </h2> + <p> + Before nine o'clock it was pretty well known all along the river that the + two partners of the “Amity Claim” had quarrelled and separated at + daybreak. At that time the attention of their nearest neighbor had been + attracted by the sounds of altercations and two consecutive pistol-shots. + Running out, he had seen, dimly, in the gray mist that rose from the + river, the tall form of Scott, one of the partners, descending the hill + toward the canyon; a moment later, York, the other partner, had appeared + from the cabin, and walked in an opposite direction toward the river, + passing within a few feet of the curious watcher. Later it was discovered + that a serious Chinaman, cutting wood before the cabin, had witnessed part + of the quarrel. But John was stolid, indifferent, and reticent. “Me + choppee wood, me no fightee,” was his serene response to all anxious + queries. “But what did they SAY, John?” John did not sabe. Colonel + Starbottle deftly ran over the various popular epithets which a generous + public sentiment might accept as reasonable provocation for an assault. + But John did not recognize them. “And this yer's the cattle,” said the + Colonel, with some severity, “that some thinks oughter be allowed to + testify ag'in' a White Man! Git—you heathen!” + </p> + <p> + Still the quarrel remained inexplicable. That two men, whose amiability + and grave tact had earned for them the title of “The Peacemakers,” in a + community not greatly given to the passive virtues,—that these men, + singularly devoted to each other, should suddenly and violently quarrel, + might well excite the curiosity of the camp. A few of the more inquisitive + visited the late scene of conflict, now deserted by its former occupants. + There was no trace of disorder or confusion in the neat cabin. The rude + table was arranged as if for breakfast; the pan of yellow biscuit still + sat upon that hearth whose dead embers might have typified the evil + passions that had raged there but an hour before. But Colonel Starbottle's + eye—albeit somewhat bloodshot and rheumy—was more intent on + practical details. On examination, a bullet-hole was found in the + doorpost, and another, nearly opposite, in the casing of the window. The + Colonel called attention to the fact that the one “agreed with” the bore + of Scott's revolver, and the other with that of York's derringer. “They + must hev stood about yer,” said the Colonel, taking position; “not mor'n + three feet apart, and—missed!” There was a fine touch of pathos in + the falling inflection of the Colonel's voice, which was not without + effect. A delicate perception of wasted opportunity thrilled his auditors. + </p> + <p> + But the Bar was destined to experience a greater disappointment. The two + antagonists had not met since the quarrel, and it was vaguely rumored + that, on the occasion of a second meeting, each had determined to kill the + other “on sight.” There was, consequently, some excitement—and, it + is to be feared, no little gratification—when, at ten o'clock, York + stepped from the Magnolia Saloon into the one long straggling street of + the camp, at the same moment that Scott left the blacksmith's shop at the + forks of the road. It was evident, at a glance, that a meeting could only + be avoided by the actual retreat of one or the other. + </p> + <p> + In an instant the doors and windows of the adjacent saloons were filled + with faces. Heads unaccountably appeared above the river-banks and from + behind bowlders. An empty wagon at the cross-road was suddenly crowded + with people, who seemed to have sprung from the earth. There was much + running and confusion on the hillside. On the mountain-road, Mr. Jack + Hamlin had reined up his horse, and was standing upright on the seat of + his buggy. And the two objects of this absorbing attention approached each + other. + </p> + <p> + “York's got the sun,” “Scott'll line him on that tree,” “He's waitin' to + draw his fire,” came from the cart; and then it was silent. But above this + human breathlessness the river rushed and sang, and the wind rustled the + tree-tops with an indifference that seemed obtrusive. Colonel Starbottle + felt it, and in a moment of sublime preoccupation, without looking around, + waved his cane behind him, warningly to all nature, and said, “Shu!” + </p> + <p> + The men were now within a few feet of each other. A hen ran across the + road before one of them. A feathery seed-vessel, wafted from a wayside + tree, fell at the feet of the other. And, unheeding this irony of nature, + the two opponents came nearer, erect and rigid, looked in each other's + eyes, and—passed! + </p> + <p> + Colonel Starbottle had to be lifted from the cart. “This yer camp is + played out,” he said, gloomily, as he affected to be supported into the + Magnolia. With what further expression he might have indicated his + feelings it was impossible to say, for at that moment Scott joined the + group. “Did you speak to me?” he asked of the Colonel, dropping his hand, + as if with accidental familiarity, on that gentleman's shoulder. The + Colonel, recognizing some occult quality in the touch, and some unknown + quantity in the glance of his questioner, contented himself by replying, + “No, sir,” with dignity. A few rods away, York's conduct was as + characteristic and peculiar. “You had a mighty fine chance; why didn't you + plump him?” said Jack Hamlin, as York drew near the buggy. “Because I hate + him,” was the reply, heard only by Jack. Contrary to popular belief, this + reply was not hissed between the lips of the speaker, but was said in an + ordinary tone. But Jack Hamlin, who was an observer of mankind, noticed + that the speaker's hands were cold, and his lips dry, as he helped him + into the buggy, and accepted the seeming paradox with a smile. + </p> + <p> + When Sandy Bar became convinced that the quarrel between York and Scott + could not be settled after the usual local methods, it gave no further + concern thereto. But presently it was rumored that the “Amity Claim” was + in litigation, and that its possession would be expensively disputed by + each of the partners. As it was well known that the claim in question was + “worked out” and worthless, and that the partners, whom it had already + enriched, had talked of abandoning it but a day or two before the quarrel, + this proceeding could only be accounted for as gratuitous spite. Later, + two San Francisco lawyers made their appearance in this guileless Arcadia, + and were eventually taken into the saloons, and—what was pretty much + the same thing—the confidences of the inhabitants. The results of + this unhallowed intimacy were many subpoenas; and, indeed, when the “Amity + Claim” came to trial, all of Sandy Bar that was not in compulsory + attendance at the county seat came there from curiosity. The gulches and + ditches for miles around were deserted. I do not propose to describe that + already famous trial. Enough that, in the language of the plaintiff's + counsel, “it was one of no ordinary significance, involving the inherent + rights of that untiring industry which had developed the Pactolian + resources of this golden land”; and, in the homelier phrase of Colonel + Starbottle, “A fuss that gentlemen might hev settled in ten minutes over a + social glass, ef they meant business; or in ten seconds with a revolver, + ef they meant fun.” Scott got a verdict, from which York instantly + appealed. It was said that he had sworn to spend his last dollar in the + struggle. + </p> + <p> + In this way Sandy Bar began to accept the enmity of the former partners as + a lifelong feud, and the fact that they had ever been friends was + forgotten. The few who expected to learn from the trial the origin of the + quarrel were disappointed. Among the various conjectures, that which + ascribed some occult feminine influence as the cause was naturally + popular, in a camp given to dubious compliment of the sex. “My word for + it, gentlemen,” said Colonel Starbottle, who had been known in Sacramento + as a Gentleman of the Old School, “there's some lovely creature at the + bottom of this.” The gallant Colonel then proceeded to illustrate his + theory, by divers sprightly stories, such as Gentlemen of the Old School + are in the habit of repeating, but which, from deference to the prejudices + of gentlemen of a more recent school, I refrain from transcribing here. + But it would appear that even the Colonel's theory was fallacious. The + only woman who personally might have exercised any influence over the + partners was the pretty daughter of “old man Folinsbee,” of Poverty Flat, + at whose hospitable house—which exhibited some comforts and + refinements rare in that crude civilization—both York and Scott were + frequent visitors. Yet into this charming retreat York strode one evening, + a month after the quarrel, and, beholding Scott sitting there, turned to + the fair hostess with the abrupt query, “Do you love this man?” The young + woman thus addressed returned that answer—at once spirited and + evasive—which would occur to most of my fair readers in such an + exigency. Without another word, York left the house. “Miss Jo” heaved the + least possible sigh as the door closed on York's curls and square + shoulders, and then, like a good girl, turned to her insulted guest “But + would you believe it, dear?” she afterward related to an intimate friend, + “the other creature, after glowering at me for a moment, got upon its hind + legs, took its hat, and left, too; and that's the last I've seen of + either.” + </p> + <p> + The same hard disregard of all other interests or feelings in the + gratification of their blind rancor characterized all their actions. When + York purchased the land below Scott's new claim, and obliged the latter, + at a great expense, to make a long detour to carry a “tail-race” around + it, Scott retaliated by building a dam that overflowed York's claim on the + river. It was Scott, who, in conjunction with Colonel Starbottle, first + organized that active opposition to the Chinamen, which resulted in the + driving off of York's Mongolian laborers; it was York who built the + wagon-road and established the express which rendered Scott's mules and + pack-trains obsolete; it was Scott who called into life the Vigilance + Committee which expatriated York's friend, Jack Hamlin; it was York who + created the “Sandy Bar Herald,” which characterized the act as “a lawless + outrage,” and Scott as a “Border Ruffian”; it was Scott, at the head of + twenty masked men, who, one moonlight night, threw the offending “forms” + into the yellow river, and scattered the types in the dusty road. These + proceedings were received in the distant and more civilized outlying towns + as vague indications of progress and vitality. I have before me a copy of + the “Poverty Flat Pioneer,” for the week ending August 12, 1856, in which + the editor, under the head of “County Improvements,” says: “The new + Presbyterian Church on C Street, at Sandy Bar, is completed. It stands + upon the lot formerly occupied by the Magnolia Saloon, which was so + mysteriously burnt last month. The temple, which now rises like a Phoenix + from the ashes of the Magnolia, is virtually the free gift of H. J. York, + Esq., of Sandy Bar, who purchased the lot and donated the lumber. Other + buildings are going up in the vicinity, but the most noticeable is the + 'Sunny South Saloon,' erected by Captain Mat. Scott, nearly opposite the + church. Captain Scott has spared no expense in the furnishing of this + saloon, which promises to be one of the most agreeable places of resort in + old Tuolumne. He has recently imported two new, first-class + billiard-tables, with cork cushions. Our old friend, 'Mountain Jimmy,' + will dispense liquors at the bar. We refer our readers to the + advertisement in another column. Visitors to Sandy Bar cannot do better + than give 'Jimmy' a call.” Among the local items occurred the following: + “H. J. York, Esq., of Sandy Bar, has offered a reward of $100 for the + detection of the parties who hauled away the steps of the new Presbyterian + Church, C Street, Sandy Bar, during divine service on Sabbath evening + last. Captain Scott adds another hundred for the capture of the miscreants + who broke the magnificent plate-glass windows of the new saloon on the + following evening. There is some talk of reorganizing the old Vigilance + Committee at Sandy Bar.” + </p> + <p> + When, for many months of cloudless weather, the hard, unwinking sun of + Sandy Bar had regularly gone down on the unpacified wrath of these men, + there was some talk of mediation. In particular, the pastor of the church + to which I have just referred—a sincere, fearless, but perhaps not + fully enlightened man—seized gladly upon the occasion of York's + liberality to attempt to reunite the former partners. He preached an + earnest sermon on the abstract sinfulness of discord and rancor. But the + excellent sermons of the Rev. Mr. Daws were directed to an ideal + congregation that did not exist at Sandy Bar,—a congregation of + beings of unmixed vices and virtues, of single impulses, and perfectly + logical motives, of preternatural simplicity, of childlike faith, and + grown-up responsibilities. As, unfortunately, the people who actually + attended Mr. Daws's church were mainly very human, somewhat artful, more + self-excusing than self-accusing, rather good-natured, and decidedly weak, + they quietly shed that portion of the sermon which referred to themselves, + and, accepting York and Scott—who were both in defiant attendance—as + curious examples of those ideal beings above referred to, felt a certain + satisfaction—which, I fear, was not altogether Christian-like—in + their “raking-down.” If Mr. Daws expected York and Scott to shake hands + after the sermon, he was disappointed. But he did not relax his purpose. + With that quiet fearlessness and determination which had won for him the + respect of men who were too apt to regard piety as synonymous with + effeminacy, he attacked Scott in his own house. What he said has not been + recorded, but it is to be feared that it was part of his sermon. When he + had concluded, Scott looked at him, not unkindly, over the glasses of his + bar, and said, less irreverently than the words might convey, “Young man, + I rather like your style; but when you know York and me as well as you do + God Almighty, it'll be time to talk.” + </p> + <p> + And so the feud progressed; and so, as in more illustrious examples, the + private and personal enmity of two representative men led gradually to the + evolution of some crude, half-expressed principle or belief. It was not + long before it was made evident that those beliefs were identical with + certain broad principles laid down by the founders of the American + Constitution, as expounded by the statesmanlike A; or were the fatal + quicksands, on which the ship of state might be wrecked, warningly pointed + out by the eloquent B. The practical result of all which was the + nomination of York and Scott to represent the opposite factions of Sandy + Bar in legislative councils. + </p> + <p> + For some weeks past, the voters of Sandy Bar and the adjacent camps had + been called upon, in large type, to “RALLY!” In vain the great pines at + the cross-roads—whose trunks were compelled to bear this and other + legends—moaned and protested from their windy watch-towers. But one + day, with fife and drum, and flaming transparency, a procession filed into + the triangular grove at the head of the gulch. The meeting was called to + order by Colonel Starbottle, who, having once enjoyed legislative + functions, and being vaguely known as a “war-horse,” was considered to be + a valuable partisan of York. He concluded an appeal for his friend, with + an enunciation of principles, interspersed with one or two anecdotes so + gratuitously coarse that the very pines might have been moved to pelt him + with their cast-off cones, as he stood there. But he created a laugh, on + which his candidate rode into popular notice; and when York rose to speak, + he was greeted with cheers. But, to the general astonishment, the new + speaker at once launched into bitter denunciation of his rival. He not + only dwelt upon Scott's deeds and example, as known to Sandy Bar, but + spoke of facts connected with his previous career, hitherto unknown to his + auditors. To great precision of epithet and directness of statement, the + speaker added the fascination of revelation and exposure. The crowd + cheered, yelled, and were delighted, but when this astounding philippic + was concluded, there was a unanimous call for “Scott!” Colonel Starbottle + would have resisted this manifest impropriety, but in vain. Partly from a + crude sense of justice, partly from a meaner craving for excitement, the + assemblage was inflexible; and Scott was dragged, pushed, and pulled upon + the platform. + </p> + <p> + As his frowsy head and unkempt beard appeared above the railing, it was + evident that he was drunk. But it was also evident, before he opened his + lips, that the orator of Sandy Bar—the one man who could touch their + vagabond sympathies (perhaps because he was not above appealing to them)—stood + before them. A consciousness of this power lent a certain dignity to his + figure, and I am not sure but that his very physical condition impressed + them as a kind of regal unbending and large condescension. Howbeit, when + this unexpected Hector arose from the ditch, York's myrmidons trembled. + </p> + <p> + “There's naught, gentlemen,” said Scott, leaning forward on the railing,—“there's + naught as that man hez said as isn't true. I was run outer Cairo; I did + belong to the Regulators; I did desert from the army; I did leave a wife + in Kansas. But thar's one thing he didn't charge me with, and, maybe, he's + forgotten. For three years, gentlemen, I was that man's pardner!—” + Whether he intended to say more, I cannot tell; a burst of applause + artistically rounded and enforced the climax, and virtually elected the + speaker. That fall he went to Sacramento, York went abroad; and for the + first time in many years, distance and a new atmosphere isolated the old + antagonists. + </p> + <p> + With little of change in the green wood, gray rock, and yellow river, but + with much shifting of human landmarks, and new faces in its habitations, + three years passed over Sandy Bar. The two men, once so identified with + its character, seemed to have been quite forgotten. “You will never return + to Sandy Bar,” said Miss Folinsbee, the “Lily of Poverty Flat,” on meeting + York in Paris, “for Sandy Bar is no more. They call it Riverside now; and + the new town is built higher up on the river-bank. By the by, 'Jo' says + that Scott has won his suit about the 'Amity Claim,' and that he lives in + the old cabin, and is drunk half his time. O, I beg your pardon,” added + the lively lady, as a flush crossed York's sallow cheek; “but, bless me, I + really thought that old grudge was made up. I'm sure it ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + It was three months after this conversation, and a pleasant summer + evening, that the Poverty Flat coach drew up before the veranda of the + Union Hotel at Sandy Bar. Among its passengers was one, apparently a + stranger, in the local distinction of well-fitting clothes and closely + shaven face, who demanded a private room and retired early to rest. But + before sunrise next morning he arose, and, drawing some clothes from his + carpet-bag, proceeded to array himself in a pair of white duck trousers, a + white duck overshirt, and straw hat. When his toilet was completed, he + tied a red bandanna handkerchief in a loop and threw it loosely over his + shoulders. The transformation was complete. As he crept softly down the + stairs and stepped into the road, no one would have detected in him the + elegant stranger of the previous night, and but few have recognized the + face and figure of Henry York of Sandy Bar. + </p> + <p> + In the uncertain light of that early hour, and in the change that had come + over the settlement, he had to pause for a moment to recall where he + stood. The Sandy Bar of his recollection lay below him, nearer the river; + the buildings around him were of later date and newer fashion. As he + strode toward the river, he noticed here a schoolhouse and there a church. + A little farther on, “The Sunny South” came in view, transformed into a + restaurant, its gilding faded and its paint rubbed off. He now knew where + he was; and, running briskly down a declivity, crossed a ditch, and stood + upon the lower boundary of the Amity Claim. + </p> + <p> + The gray mist was rising slowly from the river, clinging to the tree-tops + and drifting up the mountain-side, until it was caught among those rocky + altars, and held a sacrifice to the ascending sun. At his feet the earth, + cruelly gashed and scarred by his forgotten engines, had, since the old + days, put on a show of greenness here and there, and now smiled + forgivingly up at him, as if things were not so bad after all. A few birds + were bathing in the ditch with a pleasant suggestion of its being a new + and special provision of nature, and a hare ran into an inverted + sluice-box, as he approached, as if it were put there for that purpose. + </p> + <p> + He had not yet dared to look in a certain direction. But the sun was now + high enough to paint the little eminence on which the cabin stood. In + spite of his self-control, his heart beat faster as he raised his eyes + toward it. Its window and door were closed, no smoke came from its adobe + chimney, but it was else unchanged. When within a few yards of it, he + picked up a broken shovel, and, shouldering it with a smile, strode toward + the door and knocked. There was no sound from within. The smile died upon + his lips as he nervously pushed the door open. + </p> + <p> + A figure started up angrily and came toward him,—a figure whose + bloodshot eyes suddenly fixed into a vacant stare, whose arms were at + first outstretched and then thrown up in warning gesticulation,—a + figure that suddenly gasped, choked, and then fell forward in a fit. + </p> + <p> + But before he touched the ground, York had him out into the open air and + sunshine. In the struggle, both fell and rolled over on the ground. But + the next moment York was sitting up, holding the convulsed frame of his + former partner on his knee, and wiping the foam from his inarticulate + lips. Gradually the tremor became less frequent, and then ceased; and the + strong man lay unconscious in his arms. + </p> + <p> + For some moments York held him quietly thus, looking in his face. Afar, + the stroke of a wood-man's axe—a mere phantom of sound—was all + that broke the stillness. High up the mountain, a wheeling hawk hung + breathlessly above them. And then came voices, and two men joined them. + </p> + <p> + “A fight?” No, a fit; and would they help him bring the sick man to the + hotel? + </p> + <p> + And there, for a week, the stricken partner lay, unconscious of aught but + the visions wrought by disease and fear. On the eighth day, at sunrise, he + rallied, and, opening his eyes, looked upon York, and pressed his hand; + then he spoke:— + </p> + <p> + “And it's you. I thought it was only whiskey.” + </p> + <p> + York replied by taking both of his hands, boyishly working them backward + and forward, as his elbow rested on the bed, with a pleasant smile. + </p> + <p> + “And you've been abroad. How did you like Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “So, so. How did YOU like Sacramento?” + </p> + <p> + “Bully.” + </p> + <p> + And that was all they could think to say. Presently Scott opened his eyes + again. + </p> + <p> + “I'm mighty weak.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll get better soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Not much.” + </p> + <p> + A long silence followed, in which they could hear the sounds of + wood-chopping, and that Sandy Bar was already astir for the coming day. + Then Scott slowly and with difficulty turned his face to York, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I might hev killed you once.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had.” + </p> + <p> + They pressed each other's hands again, but Scott's grasp was evidently + failing. He seemed to summon his energies for a special effort. + </p> + <p> + “Old man!” + </p> + <p> + “Old chap.” + </p> + <p> + “Closer!” + </p> + <p> + York bent his head toward the slowly fading face. + </p> + <p> + “Do ye mind that morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + A gleam of fun slid into the corner of Scott's blue eye, as he whispered,— + </p> + <p> + “Old man, thar WAS too much saleratus in that bread.” + </p> + <p> + It is said that these were his last words. For when the sun, which had so + often gone down upon the idle wrath of these foolish men, looked again + upon them reunited, it saw the hand of Scott fall cold and irresponsive + from the yearning clasp of his former partner, and it knew that the feud + of Sandy Bar was at an end. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MR THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL + </h2> + <p> + We all knew that Mr. Thompson was looking for his son, and a pretty bad + one at that. That he was coming to California for this sole object was no + secret to his fellow-passengers; and the physical peculiarities, as well + as the moral weaknesses, of the missing prodigal were made equally plain + to us through the frank volubility of the parent. “You was speaking of a + young man which was hung at Red Dog for sluice-robbing,” said Mr. Thompson + to a steerage passenger, one day; “be you aware of the color of his eyes?” + “Black,” responded the passenger. “Ah,” said Mr. Thompson, referring to + some mental memoranda, “Char-les's eyes was blue.” He then walked away. + Perhaps it was from this unsympathetic mode of inquiry, perhaps it was + from that Western predilection to take a humorous view of any principle or + sentiment persistently brought before them, that Mr. Thompson's quest was + the subject of some satire among the passengers. A gratuitous + advertisement of the missing Charles, addressed to “Jailers and + Guardians,” circulated privately among them; everybody remembered to have + met Charles under distressing circumstances. Yet it is but due to my + countrymen to state that when it was known that Thompson had embarked some + wealth in this visionary project, but little of this satire found its way + to his ears, and nothing was uttered in his hearing that might bring a + pang to a father's heart, or imperil a possible pecuniary advantage of the + satirist. Indeed, Mr. Bracy Tibbets's jocular proposition to form a + joint-stock company to “prospect” for the missing youth received at one + time quite serious entertainment. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps to superficial criticism Mr. Thompson's nature was not picturesque + nor lovable. His history, as imparted at dinner, one day, by himself, was + practical even in its singularity. After a hard and wilful youth and + maturity,—in which he had buried a broken-spirited wife, and driven + his son to sea,—he suddenly experienced religion. “I got it in New + Orleans in '59,” said Mr. Thompson, with the general suggestion of + referring to an epidemic. “Enter ye the narrer gate. Parse me the beans.” + Perhaps this practical quality upheld him in his apparently hopeless + search. He had no clew to the whereabouts of his runaway son; indeed, + scarcely a proof of his present existence. From his indifferent + recollection of the boy of twelve, he now expected to identify the man of + twenty-five. + </p> + <p> + It would seem that he was successful. How he succeeded was one of the few + things he did not tell. There are, I believe, two versions of the story. + One, that Mr. Thompson, visiting a hospital, discovered his son by reason + of a peculiar hymn, chanted by the sufferer, in a delirious dream of his + boyhood. This version, giving as it did wide range to the finer feelings + of the heart, was quite popular; and as told by the Rev. Mr. Gushington, + on his return from his California tour, never failed to satisfy an + audience. The other was less simple, and, as I shall adopt it here, + deserves more elaboration. + </p> + <p> + It was after Mr. Thompson had given up searching for his son among the + living, and had taken to the examination of cemeteries, and a careful + inspection of the “cold hic jacets of the dead.” At this time he was a + frequent visitor of “Lone Mountain,”—a dreary hill-top, bleak enough + in its original isolation, and bleaker for the white-faced marbles by + which San Francisco anchored her departed citizens, and kept them down in + a shifting sand that refused to cover them, and against a fierce and + persistent wind that strove to blow them utterly away. Against this wind + the old man opposed a will quite as persistent,—a grizzled, hard + face, and a tall, crape-bound hat drawn tightly over his eyes,—and + so spent days in reading the mortuary inscriptions audibly to himself. The + frequency of Scriptural quotation pleased him, and he was fond of + corroborating them by a pocket Bible. “That's from Psalms,” he said, one + day, to an adjacent grave-digger. The man made no reply. Not at all + rebuffed, Mr. Thompson at once slid down into the open grave, with a more + practical inquiry, “Did you ever, in your profession, come across Char-les + Thompson?” “Thompson be d——d!” said the grave-digger, with + great directness. “Which, if he hadn't religion, I think he is,” responded + the old man, as he clambered out of the grave. + </p> + <p> + It was, perhaps, on this occasion that Mr. Thompson stayed later than + usual. As he turned his face toward the city, lights were beginning to + twinkle ahead, and a fierce wind, made visible by fog, drove him forward, + or, lying in wait, charged him angrily from the corners of deserted + suburban streets. It was on one of these corners that something else, + quite as indistinct and malevolent, leaped upon him with an oath, a + presented pistol, and a demand for money. But it was met by a will of iron + and a grip of steel. The assailant and assailed rolled together on the + ground. But the next moment the old man was erect; one hand grasping the + captured pistol, the other clutching at arm's length the throat of a + figure, surly, youthful, and savage. + </p> + <p> + “Young man,” said Mr. Thompson, setting his thin lips together, “what + might be your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Thompson!” + </p> + <p> + The old man's hand slid from the throat to the arm of his prisoner, + without relaxing its firmness. + </p> + <p> + “Char-les Thompson, come with me,” he said, presently, and marched his + captive to the hotel. What took place there has not transpired, but it was + known the next morning that Mr. Thompson had found his son. + </p> + <p> + It is proper to add to the above improbable story, that there was nothing + in the young man's appearance or manners to justify it. Grave, reticent, + and handsome, devoted to his newly found parent, he assumed the emoluments + and responsibilities of his new condition with a certain serious ease that + more nearly approached that which San Francisco society lacked, and—rejected. + Some chose to despise this quality as a tendency to “psalm-singing”; + others saw in it the inherited qualities of the parent, and were ready to + prophesy for the son the same hard old age. But all agreed that it was not + inconsistent with the habits of money-getting, for which father and son + were respected. + </p> + <p> + And yet, the old man did not seem to be happy. Perhaps it was that the + consummation of his wishes left him without a practical mission; perhaps—and + it is the more probable—he had little love for the son he had + regained. The obedience he exacted was freely given, the reform he had set + his heart upon was complete; and yet, somehow, it did not seem to please + him. In reclaiming his son, he had fulfilled all the requirements that his + religious duty required of him, and yet the act seemed to lack + sanctification. In this perplexity, he read again the parable of the + Prodigal Son,—which he had long ago adopted for his guidance,—and + found that he had omitted the final feast of reconciliation. This seemed + to offer the proper quality of ceremoniousness in the sacrament between + himself and his son; and so, a year after the appearance of Charles, he + set about giving him a party. “Invite everybody, Char-les,” he said, + dryly; “everybody who knows that I brought you out of the wine-husks of + iniquity, and the company of harlots; and bid them eat, drink, and be + merry.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the old man had another reason, not yet clearly analyzed. The fine + house he had built on the sand-hills sometimes seemed lonely and bare. He + often found himself trying to reconstruct, from the grave features of + Charles, the little boy whom he but dimly remembered in the past, and of + whom lately he had been thinking a great deal. He believed this to be a + sign of impending old age and childishness; but coming, one day, in his + formal drawing-room, upon a child of one of the servants, who had strayed + therein, he would have taken him in his arms, but the child fled from + before his grizzled face. So that it seemed eminently proper to invite a + number of people to his house, and, from the array of San Francisco + maidenhood, to select a daughter-in-law. And then there would be a child—a + boy, whom he could “rare up” from the beginning, and—love—as + he did not love Charles. + </p> + <p> + We were all at the party. The Smiths, Joneses, Browns, and Robinsons also + came, in that fine flow of animal spirits, unchecked by any respect for + the entertainer, which most of us are apt to find so fascinating. The + proceedings would have been somewhat riotous, but for the social position + of the actors. In fact, Mr. Bracy Tibbets, having naturally a fine + appreciation of a humorous situation, but further impelled by the bright + eyes of the Jones girls, conducted himself so remarkably as to attract the + serious regard of Mr. Charles Thompson, who approached him, saying + quietly: “You look ill, Mr. Tibbets; let me conduct you to your carriage. + Resist, you hound, and I'll throw you through that window. This way, + please; the room is close and distressing.” It is hardly necessary to say + that but a part of this speech was audible to the company, and that the + rest was not divulged by Mr. Tibbets, who afterward regretted the sudden + illness which kept him from witnessing a certain amusing incident, which + the fastest Miss Jones characterized as the “richest part of the + blow-out,” and which I hasten to record. + </p> + <p> + It was at supper. It was evident that Mr. Thompson had overlooked much + lawlessness in the conduct of the younger people, in his abstract + contemplation of some impending event. When the cloth was removed, he rose + to his feet, and grimly tapped upon the table. A titter, that broke out + among the Jones girls, became epidemic on one side of the board. Charles + Thompson, from the foot of the table, looked up in tender perplexity. + “He's going to sing a Doxology,” “He's going to pray,” “Silence for a + speech,” ran round the room. + </p> + <p> + “It's one year to-day, Christian brothers and sisters,” said Mr. Thompson, + with grim deliberation,—“one year to-day since my son came home from + eating of wine-husks and spending of his substance on harlots.” (The + tittering suddenly ceased.) “Look at him now. Char-les Thompson, stand + up.” (Charles Thompson stood up.) “One year ago to-day,—and look at + him now.” + </p> + <p> + He was certainly a handsome prodigal, standing there in his cheerful + evening-dress,—a repentant prodigal, with sad, obedient eyes turned + upon the harsh and unsympathetic glance of his father. The youngest Miss + Smith, from the pure depths of her foolish little heart, moved + unconsciously toward him. + </p> + <p> + “It's fifteen years ago since he left my house,” said Mr. Thompson, “a + rovier and a prodigal. I was myself a man of sin, O Christian friends,—a + man of wrath and bitterness” (“Amen,” from the eldest Miss Smith),—“but + praise be God, I've fled the wrath to come. It's five years ago since I + got the peace that passeth understanding. Have you got it, friends?” (A + general sub-chorus of “No, no,” from the girls, and, “Pass the word for + it,” from Midshipman Coxe, of the U. S. sloop Wethersfield.) “Knock, and + it shall be opened to you. + </p> + <p> + “And when I found the error of my ways, and the preciousness of grace,” + continued Mr. Thompson, “I came to give it to my son. By sea and land I + sought him far, and fainted not. I did not wait for him to come to me, + which the same I might have done, and justified myself by the Book of + books, but I sought him out among his husks, and—” (the rest of the + sentence was lost in the rustling withdrawal of the ladies). “Works, + Christian friends, is my motto. By their works shall ye know them, and + there is mine.” + </p> + <p> + The particular and accepted work to which Mr. Thompson was alluding had + turned quite pale, and was looking fixedly toward an open door leading to + the veranda, lately filled by gaping servants, and now the scene of some + vague tumult. As the noise continued, a man, shabbily dressed, and + evidently in liquor, broke through the opposing guardians, and staggered + into the room. The transition from the fog and darkness without to the + glare and heat within evidently dazzled and stupefied him. He removed his + battered hat, and passed it once or twice before his eyes, as he steadied + himself, but unsuccessfully, by the back of a chair. Suddenly, his + wandering glance fell upon the pale face of Charles Thompson; and with a + gleam of childlike recognition, and a weak, falsetto laugh, he darted + forward, caught at the table, upset the glasses, and literally fell upon + the prodigal's breast. + </p> + <p> + “Sha'ly! yo' d——d ol' scoun'rel, hoo rar ye!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush—sit down!—hush!” said Charles Thompson, hurriedly + endeavoring to extricate himself from the embrace of his unexpected guest. + </p> + <p> + “Look at 'm!” continued the stranger, unheeding the admonition, but + suddenly holding the unfortunate Charles at arm's length, in loving and + undisguised admiration of his festive appearance. “Look at 'm! Ain't he + nasty? Sha'ls, I'm prow of yer!” + </p> + <p> + “Leave the house!” said Mr. Thompson, rising, with a dangerous look in his + cold, gray eye. “Char-les, how dare you?” + </p> + <p> + “Simmer down, ole man! Sha'ls, who's th' ol' bloat? Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, man; here, take this!” With nervous hands, Charles Thompson filled + a glass with liquor. “Drink it and go—until to-morrow—any + time, but—leave us!—go now!” But even then, ere the miserable + wretch could drink, the old man, pale with passion, was upon him. Half + carrying him in his powerful arms, half dragging him through the circling + crowd of frightened guests, he had reached the door, swung open by the + waiting servants, when Charles Thompson started from a seeming stupor, + crying,— + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” + </p> + <p> + The old man stopped. Through the open door the fog and wind drove chilly. + “What does this mean?” he asked, turning a baleful face on Charles. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—but stop—for God's sake. Wait till to-morrow, but not + to-night. Do not—I implore you—do this thing.” + </p> + <p> + There was something in the tone of the young man's voice, something, + perhaps, in the contact of the struggling wretch he held in his powerful + arms; but a dim, indefinite fear took possession of the old man's heart. + “Who,” he whispered, hoarsely, “is this man?” + </p> + <p> + Charles did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Stand back, there, all of you,” thundered Mr. Thompson, to the crowding + guests around him. “Char-les—come here! I command you—I—I—I—beg + you—tell me WHO is this man?” + </p> + <p> + Only two persons heard the answer that came faintly from the lips of + Charles Thompson,— + </p> + <p> + “YOUR SON.” + </p> + <p> + When day broke over the bleak sand-hills, the guests had departed from Mr. + Thompson's banquet-halls. The lights still burned dimly and coldly in the + deserted rooms,—deserted by all but three figures, that huddled + together in the chill drawing-room, as if for warmth. One lay in drunken + slumber on a couch; at his feet sat he who had been known as Charles + Thompson; and beside them, haggard and shrunken to half his size, bowed + the figure of Mr. Thompson, his gray eye fixed, his elbows upon his knees, + and his hands clasped over his ears, as if to shut out the sad, entreating + voice that seemed to fill the room. + </p> + <p> + “God knows I did not set about to wilfully deceive. The name I gave that + night was the first that came into my thought,—the name of one whom + I thought dead,—the dissolute companion of my shame. And when you + questioned further, I used the knowledge that I gained from him to touch + your heart to set me free; only, I swear, for that! But when you told me + who you were, and I first saw the opening of another life before me—then—then—O, + sir, if I was hungry, homeless, and reckless, when I would have robbed you + of your gold, I was heart-sick, helpless, and desperate, when I would have + robbed you of your love!” + </p> + <p> + The old man stirred not. From his luxurious couch the newly found prodigal + snored peacefully. + </p> + <p> + “I had no father I could claim. I never knew a home but this. I was + tempted. I have been happy,—very happy.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and stood before the old man. “Do not fear that I shall come + between your son and his inheritance. To-day I leave this place, never to + return. The world is large, sir, and, thanks to your kindness, I now see + the way by which an honest livelihood is gained. Good by. You will not + take my hand? Well, well. Good by.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to go. But when he had reached the door he suddenly came back, + and, raising with both hands the grizzled head, he kissed it once and + twice. + </p> + <p> + “Char-les.” + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Char-les!” + </p> + <p> + The old man rose with a frightened air, and tottered feebly to the door. + It was open. There came to him the awakened tumult of a great city, in + which the prodigal's footsteps were lost forever. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW. + </h2> + <p> + The latch on the garden gate of the Folinsbee Ranch clicked twice. The + gate itself was so much in shadow that lovely night, that “old man + Folinsbee,” sitting on his porch, could distinguish nothing but a tall + white hat and beside it a few fluttering ribbons, under the pines that + marked the entrance. Whether because of this fact, or that he considered a + sufficient time had elapsed since the clicking of the latch for more + positive disclosure, I do not know; but after a few moments' hesitation he + quietly laid aside his pipe and walked slowly down the winding path toward + the gate. At the Ceanothus hedge he stopped and listened. + </p> + <p> + There was not much to hear. The hat was saying to the ribbons that it was + a fine night, and remarking generally upon the clear outline of the + Sierras against the blue-black sky. The ribbons, it so appeared, had + admired this all the way home, and asked the hat if it had ever seen + anything half so lovely as the moonlight on the summit. The hat never had; + it recalled some lovely nights in the South in Alabama (“in the South in + Ahlabahm” was the way the old man heard it), but then there were other + things that made this night seem so pleasant. The ribbons could not + possibly conceive what the hat could be thinking about. At this point + there was a pause, of which Mr. Folinsbee availed himself to walk very + grimly and craunchingly down the gravel-walk toward the gate. Then the hat + was lifted, and disappeared in the shadow, and Mr. Folinsbee confronted + only the half-foolish, half-mischievous, but wholly pretty face of his + daughter. + </p> + <p> + It was afterward known to Madrono Hollow that sharp words passed between + “Miss Jo” and the old man, and that the latter coupled the names of one + Culpepper Starbottle and his uncle, Colonel Starbottle, with certain + uncomplimentary epithets, and that Miss Jo retaliated sharply. “Her + father's blood before her father's face boiled up and proved her truly of + his race,” quoted the blacksmith, who leaned toward the noble verse of + Byron. “She saw the old man's bluff and raised him,” was the directer + comment of the college-bred Masters. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the subject of these animadversions proceeded slowly along the + road to a point where the Folinsbee mansion came in view,—a long, + narrow, white building, unpretentious, yet superior to its neighbors, and + bearing some evidences of taste and refinement in the vines that clambered + over its porch, in its French windows, and the white muslin curtains that + kept out the fierce California sun by day, and were now touched with + silver in the gracious moonlight. Culpepper leaned against the low fence, + and gazed long and earnestly at the building. Then the moonlight vanished + ghostlike from one of the windows, a material glow took its place, and a + girlish figure, holding a candle, drew the white curtains together. To + Culpepper it was a vestal virgin standing before a hallowed shrine; to the + prosaic observer I fear it was only a fair-haired young woman, whose + wicked black eyes still shone with unfilial warmth. Howbeit, when the + figure had disappeared he stepped out briskly into the moonlight of the + high-road. Here he took off his distinguishing hat to wipe his forehead, + and the moon shone full upon his face. + </p> + <p> + It was not an unprepossessing one, albeit a trifle too thin and lank and + bilious to be altogether pleasant. The cheek-bones were prominent, and the + black eyes sunken in their orbits. Straight black hair fell slantwise off + a high but narrow forehead, and swept part of a hollow cheek. A long black + mustache followed the perpendicular curves of his mouth. It was on the + whole a serious, even Quixotic face, but at times it was relieved by a + rare smile of such tender and even pathetic sweetness, that Miss Jo is + reported to have said that, if it would only last through the ceremony, + she would have married its possessor on the spot. “I once told him so,” + added that shameless young woman; “but the man instantly fell into a + settled melancholy, and hasn't smiled since.” + </p> + <p> + A half-mile below the Folinsbee Ranch the white road dipped and was + crossed by a trail that ran through Madrono hollow. Perhaps because it was + a near cut-off to the settlement, perhaps from some less practical reason, + Culpepper took this trail, and in a few moments stood among the rarely + beautiful trees that gave their name to the valley. Even in that uncertain + light the weird beauty of these harlequin masqueraders was apparent; their + red trunks—a blush in the moonlight, a deep blood-stain in the + shadow—stood out against the silvery green foliage. It was as if + Nature in some gracious moment had here caught and crystallized the gypsy + memories of the transplanted Spaniard, to cheer him in his lonely exile. + </p> + <p> + As Culpepper entered the grove he heard loud voices. As he turned toward a + clump of trees, a figure so bizarre and characteristic that it might have + been a resident Daphne—a figure over-dressed in crimson silk and + lace, with bare brown arms and shoulders, and a wreath of honeysuckle—stepped + out of the shadow. It was followed by a man. Culpepper started. To come to + the point briefly, he recognized in the man the features of his respected + uncle, Colonel Starbottle; in the female, a lady who may be briefly + described as one possessing absolutely no claim to an introduction to the + polite reader. To hurry over equally unpleasant details, both were + evidently under the influence of liquor. + </p> + <p> + From the excited conversation that ensued, Culpepper gathered that some + insult had been put upon the lady at a public ball which she had attended + that evening; that the Colonel, her escort, had failed to resent it with + the sanguinary completeness that she desired. I regret that, even in a + liberal age, I may not record the exact and even picturesque language in + which this was conveyed to her hearers. Enough that at the close of a + fiery peroration, with feminine inconsistency she flew at the gallant + Colonel, and would have visited her delayed vengeance upon his luckless + head, but for the prompt interference of Culpepper. Thwarted in this, she + threw herself upon the ground, and then into unpicturesque hysterics. + There was a fine moral lesson, not only in this grotesque performance of a + sex which cannot afford to be grotesque, but in the ludicrous concern with + which it inspired the two men. Culpepper, to whom woman was more or less + angelic, was pained and sympathetic; the Colonel, to whom she was more or + less improper, was exceedingly terrified and embarrassed. Howbeit the + storm was soon over, and after Mistress Dolores had returned a little + dagger to its sheath (her garter), she quietly took herself out of Madrono + Hollow, and happily out of these pages forever. The two men, left to + themselves, conversed in low tones. Dawn stole upon them before they + separated: the Colonel quite sobered and in full possession of his usual + jaunty self-assertion; Culpepper with a baleful glow in his hollow cheek, + and in his dark eyes a rising fire. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the general ear of Madrono Hollow was filled with rumors + of the Colonel's mishap. It was asserted that he had been invited to + withdraw his female companion from the floor of the Assembly Ball at the + Independence Hotel, and that, failing to do this, both were expelled. It + is to be regretted that in 1854 public opinion was divided in regard to + the propriety of this step, and that there was some discussion as to the + comparative virtue of the ladies who were not expelled; but it was + generally conceded that the real casus belli was political. “Is this a + dashed Puritan meeting?” had asked the Colonel, savagely. “It's no Pike + County shindig,” had responded the floor-manager, cheerfully. “You're a + Yank!” had screamed the Colonel, profanely qualifying the noun. “Get! you + border ruffian,” was the reply. Such at least was the substance of the + reports. As, at that sincere epoch, expressions like the above were + usually followed by prompt action, a fracas was confidently looked for. + </p> + <p> + Nothing, however, occurred. Colonel Starbottle made his appearance next + day upon the streets with somewhat of his usual pomposity, a little + restrained by the presence of his nephew, who accompanied him, and who, as + a universal favorite, also exercised some restraint upon the curious and + impertinent. But Culpepper's face wore a look of anxiety quite at variance + with his usual grave repose. “The Don don't seem to take the old man's + set-back kindly,” observed the sympathizing blacksmith. “P'r'aps he was + sweet on Dolores himself,” suggested the sceptical expressman. + </p> + <p> + It was a bright morning, a week after this occurrence, that Miss Jo + Folinsbee stepped from her garden into the road. This time the latch did + not click as she cautiously closed the gate behind her. After a moment's + irresolution, which would have been awkward but that it was charmingly + employed, after the manner of her sex, in adjusting a bow under a dimpled + but rather prominent chin, and in pulling down the fingers of a neatly + fitting glove, she tripped toward the settlement. Small wonder that a + passing teamster drove his six mules into the wayside ditch and imperilled + his load, to keep the dust from her spotless garments; small wonder that + the “Lightning Express” withheld its speed and flash to let her pass, and + that the expressman, who had never been known to exchange more than rapid + monosyllables with his fellow-man, gazed after her with breathless + admiration. For she was certainly attractive. In a country where the + ornamental sex followed the example of youthful Nature, and were prone to + overdress and glaring efflorescence, Miss Jo's simple and tasteful raiment + added much to the physical charm of, if it did not actually suggest a + sentiment to, her presence. It is said that Euchre-deck Billy, working in + the gulch at the crossing, never saw Miss Folinsbee pass but that he + always remarked apologetically to his partner, that “he believed he MUST + write a letter home.” Even Bill Masters, who saw her in Paris presented to + the favorable criticism of that most fastidious man, the late Emperor, + said that she was stunning, but a big discount on what she was at Madrono + Hollow. + </p> + <p> + It was still early morning, but the sun, with California extravagance, had + already begun to beat hotly on the little chip hat and blue ribbons, and + Miss Jo was obliged to seek the shade of a bypath. Here she received the + timid advances of a vagabond yellow dog graciously, until, emboldened by + his success, he insisted upon accompanying her, and, becoming slobberingly + demonstrative, threatened her spotless skirt with his dusty paws, when she + drove him from her with some slight acerbity, and a stone which haply fell + within fifty feet of its destined mark. Having thus proved her ability to + defend herself, with characteristic inconsistency she took a small panic, + and, gathering her white skirts in one hand, and holding the brim of her + hat over her eyes with the other, she ran swiftly at least a hundred yards + before she stopped. Then she began picking some ferns and a few + wild-flowers still spared to the withered fields, and then a sudden + distrust of her small ankles seized her, and she inspected them narrowly + for those burrs and bugs and snakes which are supposed to lie in wait for + helpless womanhood. Then she plucked some golden heads of wild oats, and + with a sudden inspiration placed them in her black hair, and then came + quite unconsciously upon the trail leading to Madrono Hollow. + </p> + <p> + Here she hesitated. Before her ran the little trail, vanishing at last + into the bosky depths below. The sun was very hot. She must be very far + from home. Why should she not rest awhile under the shade of a madrono? + </p> + <p> + She answered these questions by going there at once. After thoroughly + exploring the grove, and satisfying herself that it contained no other + living human creature, she sat down under one of the largest trees, with a + satisfactory little sigh. Miss Jo loved the madrono. It was a cleanly + tree; no dust ever lay upon its varnished leaves; its immaculate shade + never was known to harbor grub or insect. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at the rosy arms interlocked and arched above her head. She + looked down at the delicate ferns and cryptogams at her feet. Something + glittered at the root of the tree. She picked it up; it was a bracelet. + She examined it carefully for cipher or inscription; there was none. She + could not resist a natural desire to clasp it on her arm, and to survey it + from that advantageous view-point. This absorbed her attention for some + moments; and when she looked up again she beheld at a little distance + Culpepper Starbottle. + </p> + <p> + He was standing where he had halted, with instinctive delicacy, on first + discovering her. Indeed, he had even deliberated whether he ought not to + go away without disturbing her. But some fascination held him to the spot. + Wonderful power of humanity! Far beyond jutted an outlying spur of the + Sierra, vast, compact, and silent. Scarcely a hundred yards away, a + league-long chasm dropped its sheer walls of granite a thousand feet. On + every side rose up the serried ranks of pine-trees, in whose close-set + files centuries of storm and change had wrought no breach. Yet all this + seemed to Culpepper to have been planned by an all-wise Providence as the + natural background to the figure of a pretty girl in a yellow dress. + </p> + <p> + Although Miss Jo had confidently expected to meet Culpepper somewhere in + her ramble, now that he came upon her suddenly, she felt disappointed and + embarrassed. His manner, too, was more than usually grave and serious; and + more than ever seemed to jar upon that audacious levity which was this + giddy girl's power and security in a society where all feeling was + dangerous. As he approached her she rose to her feet, but almost before + she knew it he had taken her hand and drawn her to a seat beside him. This + was not what Miss Jo had expected, but nothing is so difficult to + predicate as the exact preliminaries of a declaration of love. + </p> + <p> + What did Culpepper say? Nothing, I fear, that will add anything to the + wisdom of the reader; nothing, I fear, that Miss Jo had not heard + substantially from other lips before. But there was a certain conviction, + fire-speed, and fury in the manner that was deliciously novel to the young + lady. It was certainly something to be courted in the nineteenth century + with all the passion and extravagance of the sixteenth; it was something + to hear, amid the slang of a frontier society, the language of + knight-errantry poured into her ear by this lantern-jawed, dark-browed + descendant of the Cavaliers. + </p> + <p> + I do not know that there was anything more in it. The facts, however, go + to show that at a certain point Miss Jo dropped her glove, and that in + recovering it Culpepper possessed himself first of her hand and then her + lips. When they stood up to go Culpepper had his arm around her waist, and + her black hair, with its sheaf of golden oats, rested against the breast + pocket of his coat. But even then I do not think her fancy was entirely + captive. She took a certain satisfaction in this demonstration of + Culpepper's splendid height, and mentally compared it with a former flame, + one lieutenant McMirk, an active, but under-sized Hector, who subsequently + fell a victim to the incautiously composed and monotonous beverages of a + frontier garrison. Nor was she so much preoccupied but that her quick + eyes, even while absorbing Culpepper's glances, were yet able to detect, + at a distance, the figure of a man approaching. In an instant she slipped + out of Culpepper's arm, and, whipping her hands behind her, said, “There's + that horrid man!” + </p> + <p> + Culpepper looked up and beheld his respected uncle panting and blowing + over the hill. His brow contracted as he turned to Miss Jo: “You don't + like my uncle!” + </p> + <p> + “I hate him!” Miss Jo was recovering her ready tongue. + </p> + <p> + Culpepper blushed. He would have liked to enter upon some details of the + Colonel's pedigree and exploits, but there was not time. He only smiled + sadly. The smile melted Miss Jo. She held out her hand quickly, and said + with even more than her usual effrontery, “Don't let that man get you into + any trouble. Take care of yourself, dear, and don't let anything happen to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Jo intended this speech to be pathetic; the tenure of life among her + lovers had hitherto been very uncertain. Culpepper turned toward her, but + she had already vanished in the thicket. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel came up panting. “I've looked all over town for you, and be + dashed to you, sir. Who was that with you?” + </p> + <p> + “A lady.” (Culpepper never lied, but he was discreet.) + </p> + <p> + “D—m 'em all! Look yar, Culp, I've spotted the man who gave the + order to put me off the floor” (“flo” was what the Colonel said) “the + other night!” + </p> + <p> + “Who was it?” asked Culpepper, listlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Jack Folinsbee.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the son of that dashed nigger-worshipping psalm-singing Puritan + Yankee. What's the matter, now? Look yar, Culp, you ain't goin' back on + your blood, ar' ye? You ain't goin' back on your word? Ye ain't going down + at the feet of this trash, like a whipped hound?” + </p> + <p> + Culpepper was silent. He was very white. Presently he looked up and said + quietly. “No.” + </p> + <p> + Culpepper Starbottle had challenged Jack Folinsbee, and the challenge was + accepted. The cause alleged was the expelling of Culpepper's uncle from + the floor of the Assembly Ball by the order of Folinsbee. This much + Madrono Hollow knew and could swear to; but there were other strange + rumors afloat, of which the blacksmith was an able expounder. “You see, + gentlemen,” he said to the crowd gathered around his anvil, “I ain't got + no theory of this affair, I only give a few facts as have come to my + knowledge. Culpepper and Jack meets quite accidental like in Bob's saloon. + Jack goes up to Culpepper and says, 'A word with you.' Culpepper bows and + steps aside in this way, Jack standing about HERE.” (The blacksmith + demonstrates the position of the parties with two old horseshoes on the + anvil.) “Jack pulls a bracelet from his pocket and says, 'Do you know that + bracelet?' Culpepper says, 'I do not,' quite cool-like and easy. Jack + says, 'You gave it to my sister.' Culpepper says, still cool as you + please, 'I did not.' Jack says, 'You lie, G-d d-mn you,' and draws his + derringer. Culpepper jumps forward about here” (reference is made to the + diagram) “and Jack fires. Nobody hit. It's a mighty cur'o's thing, + gentlemen,” continued the blacksmith, dropping suddenly into the abstract, + and leaning meditatively on his anvil,—“it's a mighty cur'o's thing + that nobody gets hit so often. You and me empties our revolvers sociably + at each other over a little game, and the room full and nobody gets hit! + That's what gets me.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Thompson,” chimed in Bill Masters, “there's another and a + better world where we shall know all that and—become better shots. + Go on with your story.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, some grabs Culpepper and some grabs Jack, and so separates them. + Then Jack tells 'em as how he had seen his sister wear a bracelet which he + knew was one that had been given to Dolores by Colonel Starbottle. That + Miss Jo wouldn't say where she got it, but owned up to having seen + Culpepper that day. Then the most cur'o's thing of it yet, what does + Culpepper do but rise up and takes all back that he said, and allows that + he DID give her the bracelet. Now my opinion, gentlemen, is that he lied; + it ain't like that man to give a gal that he respects anything off of that + piece, Dolores. But it's all the same now, and there's but one thing to be + done.” + </p> + <p> + The way this one thing was done belongs to the record of Madrono Hollow. + The morning was bright and clear; the air was slightly chill, but that was + from the mist which arose along the banks of the river. As early as six + o'clock the designated ground—a little opening in the madrono grove—was + occupied by Culpepper Starbottle, Colonel Starbottle, his second, and the + surgeon. The Colonel was exalted and excited, albeit in a rather imposing, + dignified way, and pointed out to the surgeon the excellence of the + ground, which at that hour was wholly shaded from the sun, whose steady + stare is more or less discomposing to your duellist. The surgeon threw + himself on the grass and smoked his cigar. Culpepper, quiet and + thoughtful, leaned against a tree and gazed up the river. There was a + strange suggestion of a picnic about the group, which was heightened when + the Colonel drew a bottle from his coat-tails, and, taking a preliminary + draught, offered it to the others. “Cocktails, sir,” he explained with + dignified precision. “A gentleman, sir, should never go out without 'em. + Keeps off the morning chill. I remember going out in '53 with Hank + Boompirater. Good ged, sir, the man had to put on his overcoat, and was + shot in it. Fact.” + </p> + <p> + But the noise of wheels drowned the Colonel's reminiscences, and a rapidly + driven buggy, containing Jack Folinsbee, Calhoun Bungstarter, his second, + and Bill Masters, drew up on the ground. Jack Folinsbee leaped out gayly. + “I had the jolliest work to get away without the governor's hearing,” he + began, addressing the group before him with the greatest volubility. + Calhoun Bungstarter touched his arm, and the young man blushed. It was his + first duel. + </p> + <p> + “If you are ready, gentlemen,” said Mr. Bungstarter, “we had better + proceed to business. I believe it is understood that no apology will be + offered or accepted. We may as well settle preliminaries at once, or I + fear we shall be interrupted. There is a rumor in town that the Vigilance + Committee are seeking our friends the Starbottles, and I believe, as their + fellow-countryman, I have the honor to be included in their warrant.” + </p> + <p> + At this probability of interruption, that gravity which had hitherto been + wanting fell upon the group. The preliminaries were soon arranged and the + principals placed in position. Then there was a silence. + </p> + <p> + To a spectator from the hill, impressed with the picnic suggestion, what + might have been the popping of two champagne corks broke the stillness. + </p> + <p> + Culpepper had fired in the air. Colonel Starbottle uttered a low curse. + Jack Folinsbee sulkily demanded another shot. + </p> + <p> + Again the parties stood opposed to each other. Again the word was given, + and what seemed to be the simultaneous report of both pistols rose upon + the air. But after an interval of a few seconds all were surprised to see + Culpepper slowly raise his unexploded weapon and fire it harmlessly above + his head. Then, throwing the pistol upon the ground, he walked to a tree + and leaned silently against it. + </p> + <p> + Jack Folinsbee flew into a paroxysm of fury. Colonel Starbottle raved and + swore. Mr. Bungstarter was properly shocked at their conduct. “Really, + gentlemen, if Mr. Culpepper Starbottle declines another shot, I do not see + how we can proceed.” + </p> + <p> + But the Colonel's blood was up, and Jack Folinsbee was equally implacable. + A hurried consultation ensued, which ended by Colonel Starbottle taking + his nephew's place as principal, Bill Masters acting as second, vice Mr. + Bungstarter, who declined all further connection with the affair. + </p> + <p> + Two distinct reports rang through the Hollow. Jack Folinsbee dropped his + smoking pistol, took a step forward, and then dropped heavily upon his + face. + </p> + <p> + In a moment the surgeon was at his side. The confusion was heightened by + the trampling of hoofs, and the voice of the blacksmith bidding them flee + for their lives before the coming storm. A moment more and the ground was + cleared, and the surgeon, looking up, beheld only the white face of + Culpepper bending over him. + </p> + <p> + “Can you save him?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say. Hold up his head a moment, while I run to the buggy.” + </p> + <p> + Culpepper passed his arm tenderly around the neck of the insensible man. + Presently the surgeon returned with some stimulants. + </p> + <p> + “There, that will do, Mr. Starbottle, thank you. Now my advice is to get + away from here while you can. I'll look after Folinsbee. Do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + Culpepper's arm was still round the neck of his late foe, but his head had + drooped and fallen on the wounded man's shoulder. The surgeon looked down, + and, catching sight of his face, stooped and lifted him gently in his + arms. He opened his coat and waistcoat. There was blood upon his shirt, + and a bullet-hole in his breast. He had been shot unto death at the first + fire. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT. + </h2> + <p> + As the enterprising editor of the “Sierra Flat Record” stood at his case + setting type for his next week's paper, he could not help hearing the + woodpeckers who were busy on the roof above his head. It occurred to him + that possibly the birds had not yet learned to recognize in the rude + structure any improvement on nature, and this idea pleased him so much + that he incorporated it in the editorial article which he was then doubly + composing. For the editor was also printer of the “Record”; and although + that remarkable journal was reputed to exert a power felt through all + Calaveras and a greater part of Tuolumne County, strict economy was one of + the conditions of its beneficent existence. + </p> + <p> + Thus preoccupied, he was startled by the sudden irruption of a small roll + of manuscript, which was thrown through the open door and fell at his + feet. He walked quickly to the threshold and looked down the tangled trail + which led to the high-road. But there was nothing to suggest the presence + of his mysterious contributor. A hare limped slowly away, a green-and-gold + lizard paused upon a pine stump, the woodpeckers ceased their work. So + complete had been his sylvan seclusion, that he found it difficult to + connect any human agency with the act; rather the hare seemed to have an + inexpressibly guilty look, the woodpeckers to maintain a significant + silence, and the lizard to be conscience-stricken into stone. + </p> + <p> + An examination of the manuscript, however, corrected this injustice to + defenceless nature. It was evidently of human origin,—being verse, + and of exceeding bad quality. The editor laid it aside. As he did so he + thought he saw a face at the window. Sallying out in some indignation, he + penetrated the surrounding thicket in every direction, but his search was + as fruitless as before. The poet, if it were he, was gone. + </p> + <p> + A few days after this the editorial seclusion was invaded by voices of + alternate expostulation and entreaty. Stepping to the door, the editor was + amazed at beholding Mr. Morgan McCorkle, a well-known citizen of Angelo, + and a subscriber to the “Record,” in the act of urging, partly by force + and partly by argument, an awkward young man toward the building. When he + had finally effected his object, and, as it were, safely landed his prize + in a chair, Mr. McCorkle took off his hat, carefully wiped the narrow + isthmus of forehead which divided his black brows from his stubby hair, + and with an explanatory wave of his hand toward his reluctant companion, + said, “A borned poet, and the cussedest fool you ever seed!” + </p> + <p> + Accepting the editor's smile as a recognition of the introduction, Mr. + McCorkle panted and went on: “Didn't want to come! 'Mister Editor don't + went to see me, Morg,' sez he. 'Milt,' sez I, 'he do; a borned poet like + you and a gifted genius like he oughter come together sociable!' And I + fetched him. Ah, will yer?” The born poet had, after exhibiting signs of + great distress, started to run. But Mr. McCorkle was down upon him + instantly, seizing him by his long linen coat, and settled him back in his + chair. “Tain't no use stampeding. Yer ye are and yer ye stays. For yer a + borned poet,—ef ye are as shy as a jackass rabbit. Look at 'im now!” + </p> + <p> + He certainly was not an attractive picture. There was hardly a notable + feature in his weak face, except his eyes, which were moist and shy and + not unlike the animal to which Mr. McCorkle had compared him. It was the + face that the editor had seen at the window. + </p> + <p> + “Knowed him for fower year,—since he war a boy,” continued Mr. + McCorkle in a loud whisper. “Allers the same, bless you! Can jerk a rhyme + as easy as turnin' jack. Never had any eddication; lived out in Missooray + all his life. But he's chock full o' poetry. On'y this mornin' sez I to + him,—he camps along o' me,—'Milt!' sez I, 'are breakfast + ready?' and he up and answers back quite peert and chipper, 'The breakfast + it is ready, and the birds is singing free, and it's risin' in the dawnin' + light is happiness to me!' When a man,” said Mr. McCorkle, dropping his + voice with deep solemnity, “gets off things like them, without any call to + do it, and handlin' flapjacks over a cookstove at the same time,—that + man's a borned poet.” + </p> + <p> + There was an awkward pause. Mr. McCorkle beamed patronizingly on his + protege. The born poet looked as if he were meditating another flight,—not + a metaphorical one. The editor asked if he could do anything for them. + </p> + <p> + “In course you can,” responded Mr. McCorkle, “that's jest it. Milt, + where's that poetry!” + </p> + <p> + The editor's countenance fell as the poet produced from his pocket a roll + of manuscript. He, however, took it mechanically and glanced over it. It + was evidently a duplicate of the former mysterious contribution. + </p> + <p> + The editor then spoke briefly but earnestly. I regret that I cannot recall + his exact words, but it appeared that never before, in the history of the + “Record,” had the pressure been so great upon its columns. Matters of + paramount importance, deeply affecting the material progress of Sierra, + questions touching the absolute integrity of Calaveras and Tuolumne as + social communities, were even now waiting expression. Weeks, nay, months, + must elapse before that pressure would be removed, and the “Record” could + grapple with any but the sternest of topics. Again, the editor had noticed + with pain the absolute decline of poetry in the foot-hills of the Sierras. + Even the works of Byron and Moore attracted no attention in Dutch Flat, + and a prejudice seemed to exist against Tennyson in Grass Valley. But the + editor was not without hope for the future. In the course of four or five + years, when the country was settled,— + </p> + <p> + “What would be the cost to print this yer?” interrupted Mr. McCorkle, + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “About fifty dollars, as an advertisement,” responded the editor with + cheerful alacrity. + </p> + <p> + Mr. McCorkle placed the sum in the editor's hand. “Yer see thet's what I + sez to Milt, 'Milt,' sez I, 'pay as you go, for you are a borned poet. + Hevin no call to write, but doin' it free and spontaneous like, in course + you pays. Thet's why Mr. Editor never printed your poetry.'” + </p> + <p> + “What name shall I put to it?” asked the editor. + </p> + <p> + “Milton.” + </p> + <p> + It was the first word that the born poet had spoken during the interview, + and his voice was so very sweet and musical that the editor looked at him + curiously, and wondered if he had a sister. + </p> + <p> + “Milton; is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “Thet's his furst name,” exclaimed Mr. McCorkle. + </p> + <p> + The editor here suggested that as there had been another poet of that name— + </p> + <p> + “Milt might be took for him! Thet's bad,” reflected Mr. McCorkle with + simple gravity. “Well, put down his hull name,—Milton Chubbuck.” + </p> + <p> + The editor made a note of the fact. “I'll set it up now,” he said. This + was also a hint that the interview was ended. The poet and patron, arm in + arm, drew towards the door. “In next week's paper,” said the editor, + smilingly, in answer to the childlike look of inquiry in the eyes of the + poet, and in another moment they were gone. + </p> + <p> + The editor was as good as his word. He straight-way betook himself to his + case, and, unrolling the manuscript, began his task. The woodpeckers on + the roof recommenced theirs, and in a few moments the former sylvan + seclusion was restored. There was no sound in the barren, barn-like room + but the birds above, and below the click of the composing-rule as the + editor marshalled the types into lines in his stick, and arrayed them in + solid column on the galley. Whatever might have been his opinion of the + copy before him, there was no indication of it in his face, which wore the + stolid indifference of his craft. Perhaps this was unfortunate, for as the + day wore on and the level rays of the sun began to pierce the adjacent + thicket, they sought out and discovered an anxious ambushed figure drawn + up beside the editor's window,—a figure that had sat there + motionless for hours. Within, the editor worked on as steadily and + impassively as Fate. And without, the born poet of Sierra Flat sat and + watched him as waiting its decree. + </p> + <p> + The effect of the poem on Sierra Flat was remarkable and unprecedented. + The absolute vileness of its doggerel, the gratuitous imbecility of its + thought, and above all the crowning audacity of the fact that it was the + work of a citizen and published in the county paper, brought it instantly + into popularity. For many months Calaveras had languished for a sensation; + since the last vigilance committee nothing had transpired to dispel the + listless ennui begotten of stagnant business and growing civilization. In + more prosperous moments the office of the “Record” would have been simply + gutted and the editor deported; at present the paper was in such demand + that the edition was speedily exhausted. In brief, the poem of Mr. Milton + Chubbuck came like a special providence to Sierra Flat. It was read by + camp-fires, in lonely cabins, in flaring bar-rooms and noisy saloons, and + declaimed from the boxes of stagecoaches. It was sung in Poker Flat with + the addition of a local chorus, and danced as an unhallowed rhythmic dance + by the Pyrrhic phalanx of One Horse Gulch, known as “The Festive Stags of + Calaveras.” Some unhappy ambiguities of expression gave rise to many new + readings, notes, and commentaries, which, I regret to state, were more + often marked by ingenuity than delicacy of thought or expression. + </p> + <p> + Never before did poet acquire such sudden local reputation. From the + seclusion of McCorkle's cabin and the obscurity of culinary labors, he was + haled forth into the glowing sunshine of Fame. The name of Chubbuck was + written in letters of chalk on unpainted walls, and carved with a pick on + the sides of tunnels. A drink known variously as “The Chubbuck + Tranquillizer,” or “The Chubbuck Exalter,” was dispensed at the bars. For + some weeks a rude design for a Chubbuck statue, made up of illustrations + from circus and melodeon posters, representing the genius of Calaveras in + brief skirts on a flying steed in the act of crowning the poet Chubbuck, + was visible at Keeler's Ferry. The poet himself was overborne with + invitations to drink and extravagant congratulations. The meeting between + Colonel Starbottle of Siskyion and Chubbuck, as previously arranged by our + “Boston,” late of Roaring Camp, is said to have been indescribably + affecting. The Colonel embraced him unsteadily. “I could not return to my + constituents at Siskyion, sir, if this hand, which has grasped that of the + gifted Prentice and the lamented Poe, should not have been honored by the + touch of the godlike Chubbuck. Gentlemen, American literature is looking + up. Thank you, I will take sugar in mine.” It was “Boston” who indited + letters of congratulations from H. W. Longfellow, Tennyson, and Browning, + to Mr. Chubbuck, deposited them in the Sierra Flat post-office, and + obligingly consented to dictate the replies. + </p> + <p> + The simple faith and unaffected delight with which these manifestations + were received by the poet and his patron might have touched the hearts of + these grim masters of irony, but for the sudden and equal development in + both of the variety of weak natures. Mr. McCorkle basked in the popularity + of his protege, and became alternately supercilious or patronizing toward + the dwellers of Sierra Flat; while the poet, with hair carefully oiled and + curled, and bedecked with cheap jewelry and flaunting neck-handkerchief, + paraded himself before the single hotel. As may be imagined, this new + disclosure of weakness afforded intense satisfaction to Sierra Flat, gave + another lease of popularity to the poet, and suggested another idea to the + facetious “Boston.” + </p> + <p> + At that time a young lady popularly and professionally known as the + “California Pet” was performing to enthusiastic audiences in the interior. + Her specialty lay in the personation of youthful masculine character; as a + gamin of the street she was irresistible, as a negro-dancer she carried + the honest miner's heart by storm. A saucy, pretty brunette, she had + preserved a wonderful moral reputation even under the Jove-like advances + of showers of gold that greeted her appearance on the stage at Sierra + Flat. A prominent and delighted member of that audience was Milton + Chubbuck. He attended every night. Every day he lingered at the door of + the Union Hotel for a glimpse of the “California Pet.” It was not long + before he received a note from her,—in “Boston's” most popular and + approved female hand,—acknowledging his admiration. It was not long + before “Boston” was called upon to indite a suitable reply. At last, in + furtherance of his facetious design, it became necessary for “Boston” to + call upon the young actress herself and secure her personal participation. + To her he unfolded a plan, the successful carrying out of which he felt + would secure his fame to posterity as a practical humorist. The + “California Pet's” black eyes sparkled approvingly and mischievously. She + only stipulated that she should see the man first,—a concession to + her feminine weakness which years of dancing Juba and wearing trousers and + boots had not wholly eradicated from her wilful breast. By all means, it + should be done. And the interview was arranged for the next week. + </p> + <p> + It must not be supposed that during this interval of popularity Mr. + Chubbuck had been unmindful of his poetic qualities. A certain portion of + each day he was absent from town,—“a communin' with natur',” as Mr. + McCorkle expressed it,—and actually wandering in the mountain + trails, or lying on his back under the trees, or gathering fragrant herbs + and the bright-colored berries of the Marzanita. These and his company he + generally brought to the editor's office, late in the afternoon, often to + that enterprising journalist's infinite weariness. Quiet and + uncommunicative, he would sit there patiently watching him at his work + until the hour for closing the office arrived, when he would as quietly + depart. There was something so humble and unobtrusive in these visits, + that the editor could not find it in his heart to deny them, and accepting + them, like the woodpeckers, as a part of his sylvan surroundings, often + forgot even his presence. Once or twice, moved by some beauty of + expression in the moist, shy eyes, he felt like seriously admonishing his + visitor of his idle folly; but his glance falling upon the oiled hair and + the gorgeous necktie, he invariably thought better of it. The case was + evidently hopeless. + </p> + <p> + The interview between Mr. Chubbuck and the “California Pet” took place in + a private room of the Union Hotel; propriety being respected by the + presence of that arch-humorist, “Boston.” To this gentleman we are + indebted for the only true account of the meeting. However reticent Mr. + Chubbuck might have been in the presence of his own sex, toward the fairer + portion of humanity he was, like most poets, exceedingly voluble. + Accustomed as the “California Pet” had been to excessive compliment, she + was fairly embarrassed by the extravagant praises of her visitor. Her + personation of boy characters, her dancing of the “champion jig,” were + particularly dwelt upon with fervid but unmistakable admiration. At last, + recovering her audacity and emboldened by the presence of “Boston,” the + “California Pet” electrified her hearers by demanding, half jestingly, + half viciously, if it were as a boy or a girl that she was the subject of + his flattering admiration. + </p> + <p> + “That knocked him out o' time,” said the delighted “Boston,” in his + subsequent account of the interview. “But do you believe the d——d + fool actually asked her to take him with her; wanted to engage in the + company.” + </p> + <p> + The plan, as briefly unfolded by “Boston,” was to prevail upon Mr. + Chubbuck to make his appearance in costume (already designed and prepared + by the inventor) before a Sierra Flat audience, and recite an original + poem at the Hall immediately on the conclusion of the “California Pet's” + performance. At a given signal the audience were to rise and deliver a + volley of unsavory articles (previously provided by the originator of the + scheme); then a select few were to rush on the stage, seize the poet, and, + after marching him in triumphal procession through town, were to deposit + him beyond its uttermost limits, with strict injunctions never to enter it + again. To the first part of the plan the poet was committed, for the + latter portion it was easy enough to find participants. + </p> + <p> + The eventful night came, and with it an audience that packed the long + narrow room with one dense mass of human beings. The “California Pet” + never had been so joyous, so reckless, so fascinating and audacious + before. But the applause was tame and weak compared to the ironical + outburst that greeted the second rising of the curtain and the entrance of + the born poet of Sierra Flat. Then there was a hush of expectancy, and the + poet stepped to the foot-lights and stood with his manuscript in his hand. + </p> + <p> + His face was deadly pale. Either there was some suggestion of his fate in + the faces of his audience, or some mysterious instinct told him of his + danger. He attempted to speak, but faltered, tottered, and staggered to + the wings. + </p> + <p> + Fearful of losing his prey, “Boston” gave the signal and leaped upon the + stage. But at the same moment a light figure darted from behind the + scenes, and delivering a kick that sent the discomfited humorist back + among the musicians, cut a pigeon-wing, executed a double-shuffle, and + then advancing to the foot-lights with that inimitable look, that + audacious swagger and utter abandon which had so thrilled and fascinated + them a moment before, uttered the characteristic speech: “Wot are you + goin' to hit a man fur, when he's down, s-a-a-y?” + </p> + <p> + The look, the drawl, the action, the readiness, and above all the + downright courage of the little woman, had its effect. A roar of + sympathetic applause followed the act. “Cut and run while you can,” she + whispered hurriedly over her one shoulder, without altering the other's + attitude of pert and saucy defiance toward the audience. But even as she + spoke the poet tottered and sank fainting upon the stage. Then she threw a + despairing whisper behind the scenes, “Ring down the curtain.” + </p> + <p> + There was a slight movement of opposition in the audience, but among them + rose the burly shoulders of Yuba Bill, the tall, erect figure of Henry + York of Sandy Bar, and the colorless, determined face of John Oakhurst. + The curtain came down. + </p> + <p> + Behind it knelt the “California Pet” beside the prostrate poet. “Bring me + some water. Run for a doctor. Stop!! CLEAR OUT, ALL OF YOU!” + </p> + <p> + She had unloosed the gaudy cravat and opened the shirt-collar of the + insensible figure before her. Then she burst into an hysterical laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Manuela!” + </p> + <p> + Her tiring-woman, a Mexican half-breed, came toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Help me with him to my dressing-room, quick; then stand outside and wait. + If any one questions you, tell them he's gone. Do you hear? HE's gone.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman did as she was bade. In a few moments the audience had + departed. Before morning so also had the “California Pet,” Manuela, and—the + poet of Sierra Flat. + </p> + <p> + But, alas! with them also had departed the fair fame of the “California + Pet.” Only a few, and these it is to be feared of not the best moral + character themselves, still had faith in the stainless honor of their + favorite actress. “It was a mighty foolish thing to do, but it'll all come + out right yet.” On the other hand, a majority gave her full credit and + approbation for her undoubted pluck and gallantry, but deplored that she + should have thrown it away upon a worthless object. To elect for a lover + the despised and ridiculed vagrant of Sierra Flat, who had not even the + manliness to stand up in his own defence, was not only evidence of + inherent moral depravity, but was an insult to the community. Colonel + Starbottle saw in it only another instance of the extreme frailty of the + sex; he had known similar cases; and remembered distinctly, sir, how a + well-known Philadelphia heiress, one of the finest women that ever rode in + her kerridge, that, gad, sir! had thrown over a Southern member of + Congress to consort with a d——d nigger. The Colonel had also + noticed a singular look in the dog's eye which he did not entirely fancy. + He would not say anything against the lady, sir, but he had noticed—And + here haply the Colonel became so mysterious and darkly confidential as to + be unintelligible and inaudible to the bystanders. + </p> + <p> + A few days after the disappearance of Mr. Chubbuck a singular report + reached Sierra Flat, and it was noticed that “Boston,” who since the + failure of his elaborate joke had been even more depressed in spirits than + is habitual with great humorists, suddenly found that his presence was + required in San Francisco. But as yet nothing but the vaguest surmises + were afloat, and nothing definite was known. + </p> + <p> + It was a pleasant afternoon when the editor of the “Sierra Flat Record” + looked up from his case and beheld the figure of Mr. Morgan McCorkle + standing in the doorway. There was a distressed look on the face of that + worthy gentleman that at once enlisted the editor's sympathizing + attention. He held an open letter in his hand, as he advanced toward the + middle of the room. + </p> + <p> + “As a man as has allers borne a fair reputation,” began Mr. McCorkle + slowly, “I should like, if so be as I could, Mister Editor, to make a + correction in the columns of your valooable paper.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Editor begged him to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “Ye may not disremember that about a month ago I fetched here what so be + as we'll call a young man whose name might be as it were Milton—Milton + Chubbuck.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Editor remembered perfectly. + </p> + <p> + “Thet same party I'd knowed better nor fower year, two on 'em campin' out + together. Not that I'd known him all the time, fur he war shy and strange + at spells and had odd ways that I took war nat'ral to a borned poet. Ye + may remember that I said he was a borned poet?” + </p> + <p> + The editor distinctly did. + </p> + <p> + “I picked this same party up in St. Jo., takin' a fancy to his face, and + kinder calklating he'd runn'd away from home,—for I'm a married man, + Mr. Editor, and hev children of my own,—and thinkin' belike he was a + borned poet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said the editor. + </p> + <p> + “And as I said before, I should like now to make a correction in the + columns of your valooable paper.” + </p> + <p> + “What correction!” asked the editor. + </p> + <p> + “I said, ef you remember my words, as how he was a borned poet.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “From statements in this yer letter it seems as how I war wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” + </p> + <p> + “She war a woman.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE CHRISTMAS GIFT THAT CAME TO RUPERT. + </h2> + <p> + A STORY FOR LITTLE SOLDIERS. + </p> + <p> + It was the Christmas season in California,—a season of falling rain + and springing grasses. There were intervals when, through driving clouds + and flying scud, the sun visited the haggard hills with a miracle, and + death and resurrection were as one, and out of the very throes of decay a + joyous life struggled outward and upward. Even the storms that swept down + the dead leaves nurtured the tender buds that took their places. There + were no episodes of snowy silence; over the quickening fields the farmer's + ploughshare hard followed the furrows left by the latest rains. Perhaps it + was for this reason that the Christmas evergreens which decorated the + drawing-room took upon themselves a foreign aspect, and offered a weird + contrast to the roses, seen dimly through the windows, as the southwest + wind beat their soft faces against the panes. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the Doctor, drawing his chair closer to the fire, and looking + mildly but firmly at the semicircle of flaxen heads around him, “I want it + distinctly understood before I begin my story, that I am not to be + interrupted by any ridiculous questions. At the first one I shall stop. At + the second, I shall feel it my duty to administer a dose of castor-oil, + all around. The boy that moves his legs or arms will be understood to + invite amputation. I have brought my instruments with me, and never allow + pleasure to interfere with my business. Do you promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said six small voices, simultaneously. The volley was, + however, followed by half a dozen dropping questions. + </p> + <p> + “Silence! Bob, put your feet down, and stop rattling that sword. Flora + shall sit by my side, like a little lady, and be an example to the rest. + Fung Tang shall stay, too, if he likes. Now, turn down the gas a little; + there, that will do,—just enough to make the fire look brighter, and + to show off the Christmas candles. Silence, everybody! The boy who cracks + an almond, or breathes too loud over his raisins, will be put out of the + room?” + </p> + <p> + There was a profound silence. Bob laid his sword tenderly aside, and + nursed his leg thoughtfully. Flora, after coquettishly adjusting the + pocket of her little apron, put her arm upon the Doctor's shoulder, and + permitted herself to be drawn beside him. Fung Tang, the little heathen + page, who was permitted, on this rare occasion, to share the Christian + revels in the drawing-room, surveyed the group with a smile that was at + once sweet and philosophical. The light ticking of a French clock on the + mantel, supported by a young shepherdess of bronze complexion and great + symmetry of limb, was the only sound that disturbed the Christmas-like + peace of the apartment,—a peace which held the odors of evergreens, + new toys, cedar-boxes, glue, and varnish in an harmonious combination that + passed all understanding. + </p> + <p> + “About four years ago at this time,” began the Doctor, “I attended a + course of lectures in a certain city. One of the professors, who was a + sociable, kindly man,—though somewhat practical and hard-headed,—invited + me to his house on Christmas night. I was very glad to go, as I was + anxious to see one of his sons, who, though only twelve years old, was + said to be very clever. I dare not tell you how many Latin verses this + little fellow could recite, or how many English ones he had composed. In + the first place, you'd want me to repeat them; secondly, I'm not a judge + of poetry, Latin or English. But there were judges who said they were + wonderful for a boy, and everybody predicted a splendid future for him. + Everybody but his father. He shook his head doubtingly, whenever it was + mentioned, for, as I have told you, he was a practical, matter-of-fact + man. + </p> + <p> + “There was a pleasant party at the Professor's that night. All the + children of the neighborhood were there, and among them the Professor's + clever son, Rupert, as they called him,—a thin little chap, about as + tall as Bobby there, and as fair and delicate as Flora by my side. His + health was feeble, his father said; he seldom ran about and played with + other boys, preferring to stay at home and brood over his books, and + compose what he called his verses. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we had a Christmas-tree just like this, and we had been laughing + and talking, calling off the names of the children who had presents on the + tree, and everybody was very happy and joyous, when one of the children + suddenly uttered a cry of mingled surprise and hilarity, and said, 'Here's + something for Rupert; and what do you think it is?' + </p> + <p> + “We all guessed. 'A desk'; 'A copy of Milton'; 'A gold pen'; 'A rhyming + dictionary? 'No? what then?' + </p> + <p> + “'A drum!' + </p> + <p> + “'A what?' asked everybody. + </p> + <p> + “'A drum! with Rupert's name on it?' + </p> + <p> + “Sure enough there it was. A good-sized, bright, new, brass-bound drum, + with a slip of paper on it, with the inscription, 'FOR RUPERT.' + </p> + <p> + “Of course we all laughed, and thought it a good joke. 'You see you're to + make a noise in the world, Rupert!' said one. 'Here's parchment for the + poet,' said another. 'Rupert's last work in sheepskin covers,' said a + third. 'Give us a classical tune, Rupert,' said a fourth; and so on. But + Rupert seemed too mortified to speak; he changed color, bit his lips, and + finally burst into a passionate fit of crying, and left the room. Then + those who had joked him felt ashamed, and everybody began to ask who had + put the drum there. But no one knew, or if they did, the unexpected + sympathy awakened for the sensitive boy kept them silent. Even the + servants were called up and questioned, but no one could give any idea + where it came from. And, what was still more singular, everybody declared + that up to the moment it was produced, no one had seen it hanging on the + tree. What do I think? Well, I have my own opinion. But no questions! + Enough for you to know that Rupert did not come down stairs again that + night, and the party soon after broke up. + </p> + <p> + “I had almost forgotten those things, for the war of the Rebellion broke + out the next spring, and I was appointed surgeon in one of the new + regiments, and was on my way to the seat of war. But I had to pass through + the city where the Professor lived, and there I met him. My first question + was about Rupert. The Professor shook his head sadly. 'He's not so well,' + he said; 'he has been declining since last Christmas, when you saw him. A + very strange case,' he added, giving it a long Latin name,—'a very + singular case. But go and see him yourself,' he urged; 'it may distract + his mind and do him good?' + </p> + <p> + “I went accordingly to the Professor's house, and found Rupert lying on a + sofa, propped up with pillows. Around him were scattered his books, and, + what seemed in singular contrast, that drum I told you about was hanging + on a nail, just above his head. His face was thin and wasted; there was a + red spot on either cheek, and his eyes were very bright and widely opened. + He was glad to see me, and when I told him where I was going, he asked a + thousand questions about the war. I thought I had thoroughly diverted his + mind from its sick and languid fancies, when he suddenly grasped my hand + and drew me toward him. + </p> + <p> + “'Doctor,' said he, in a low whisper, 'you won't laugh at me if I tell you + something?' + </p> + <p> + “'No, certainly not,' I said. + </p> + <p> + “'You remember that drum?' he said, pointing to the glittering toy that + hung against the wall. 'You know, too, how it came to me. A few weeks + after Christmas, I was lying half asleep here, and the drum was hanging on + the wall, when suddenly I heard it beaten; at first, low and slowly, then + faster and louder, until its rolling filled the house. In the middle of + the night, I heard it again. I did not dare to tell anybody about it, but + I have heard it every night ever since.' + </p> + <p> + “He paused and looked anxiously in my face. 'Sometimes,' he continued, 'it + is played softly, sometimes loudly, but always quickening to a long-roll, + so loud and alarming that I have looked to see people coming into my room + to ask what was the matter. But I think, Doctor,—I think,' he + repeated slowly, looking up with painful interest into my face, 'that no + one hears it but myself.' + </p> + <p> + “I thought so, too, but I asked him if he had heard it at any other time. + </p> + <p> + “'Once or twice in the daytime,' he replied, 'when I have been reading or + writing; then very loudly, as though it were angry, and tried in that way + to attract my attention away from my books.' + </p> + <p> + “I looked into his face, and placed my hand upon his pulse. His eyes were + very bright, and his pulse a little flurried and quick. I then tried to + explain to him that he was very weak, and that his senses were very acute, + as most weak people's are; and how that when he read, or grew interested + and excited, or when he was tired at night, the throbbing of a big artery + made the beating sound he heard. He listened to me with a sad smile of + unbelief, but thanked me, and in a little while I went away. But as I was + going down stairs, I met the Professor. I gave him my opinion of the case,—well, + no matter what it was. + </p> + <p> + “'He wants fresh air and exercise,' said the Professor, 'and some + practical experience of life, sir?' The Professor was not a bad man, but + he was a little worried and impatient, and thought—as clever people + are apt to think—that things which he didn't understand were either + silly or improper. + </p> + <p> + “I left the city that very day, and in the excitement of battle-fields and + hospitals, I forgot all about little Rupert, nor did I hear of him again, + until one day, meeting an old classmate in the army, who had known the + Professor, he told me that Rupert had become quite insane, and that in one + of his paroxysms he had escaped from the house, and as he had never been + found, it was feared that he had fallen in the river and was drowned. I + was terribly shocked for the moment, as you may imagine; but, dear me, I + was living just then among scenes as terrible and shocking, and I had + little time to spare to mourn over poor Rupert. + </p> + <p> + “It was not long after receiving this intelligence that we had a terrible + battle, in which a portion of our army was surprised and driven back with + great slaughter. I was detached from my brigade to ride over to the + battle-field and assist the surgeons of the beaten division, who had more + on their hands than they could attend to. When I reached the barn that + served for a temporary hospital, I went at once to work. Ah, Bob,” said + the Doctor, thoughtfully taking the bright sword from the hands of the + half-frightened Bob, and holding it gravely before him, “these pretty + playthings are symbols of cruel, ugly realities. + </p> + <p> + “I turned to a tall, stout Vermonter,” he continued very slowly, tracing a + pattern on the rug with the point of the scabbard, “who was badly wounded + in both thighs, but he held up his hands and begged me to help others + first who needed it more than he. I did not at first heed his request, for + this kind of unselfishness was very common in the army; but he went on, + 'For God's sake, Doctor, leave me here; there is a drummer-boy of our + regiment—a mere child—dying, if he isn't dead now. Go, and see + him first. He lies over there. He saved more than one life. He was at his + post in the panic this morning, and saved the honor of the regiment.' I + was so much more impressed by the man's manner than by the substance of + his speech, which was, however, corroborated by the other poor fellows + stretched around me, that I passed over to where the drummer lay, with his + drum beside him. I gave one glance at his face—and—yes, Bob—yes, + my children—it WAS Rupert. + </p> + <p> + “Well! well! it needed not the chalked cross which my brother-surgeons had + left upon the rough board whereon he lay to show how urgent was the relief + he sought; it needed not the prophetic words of the Vermonter, nor the + damp that mingled with the brown curls that clung to his pale forehead, to + show how hopeless it was now. I called him by name. He opened his eyes—larger, + I thought, in the new vision that was beginning to dawn upon him—and + recognized me. He whispered, 'I'm glad you are come, but I don't think you + can do me any good.' + </p> + <p> + “I could not tell him a lie. I could not say anything. I only pressed his + hand in mine, as he went on. + </p> + <p> + “'But you will see father, and ask him to forgive me. Nobody is to blame + but myself. It was a long time before I understood why the drum came to me + that Christmas night, and why it kept calling to me every night, and what + it said. I know it now. The work is done, and I am content. Tell father it + is better as it is. I should have lived only to worry and perplex him, and + something in me tells me this is right.' + </p> + <p> + “He lay still for a moment, and then, grasping my hand, said,— + </p> + <p> + “'Hark!' + </p> + <p> + “I listened, but heard nothing but the suppressed moans of the wounded men + around me. 'The drum,' he said faintly; 'don't you hear it? The drum is + calling me.' + </p> + <p> + “He reached out his arm to where it lay, as though he would embrace it. + </p> + <p> + “'Listen,' he went on, 'it's the reveille. There are the ranks drawn up in + review. Don't you see the sunlight flash down the long line of bayonets? + Their faces are shining,—they present arms,—there comes the + General; but his face I cannot look at, for the glory round his head. He + sees me; he smiles, it is—” And with a name upon his lips that he + had learned long ago, he stretched himself wearily upon the planks, and + lay quite still. + </p> + <p> + “That's all. No questions now; never mind what became of the drum. Who's + that snivelling? Bless my soul, where's my pill-box?” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mrs. Skaggs's Husbands and Other +Stories, by Bret Harte + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MRS. 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