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diff --git a/6011-h/6011-h.htm b/6011-h/6011-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..96eaee9 --- /dev/null +++ b/6011-h/6011-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13546 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> +<!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" xml:lang= +"en"> +<head> +<title>The Little Lady of Lagunitas, by Richard Henry +Savage</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + + 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;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Little Lady of Lagunitas, by Richard Henry Savage + +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: The Little Lady of Lagunitas + +Author: Richard Henry Savage + + +Release Date: July, 2004 [EBook #6011] +This file was first posted on October 16, 2002 +Last Updated: June 12, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE LADY OF LAGUNITAS *** + + + + +Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + +<div style="height: 8em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h1>THE LITTLE LADY OF LAGUNITAS</h1> +<h2>A FRANCO-CALIFORNIAN ROMANCE</h2> +<p><br /></p> +<h2>By Richard Henry Savage</h2> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<div class="middle"> +<p><b>Project Gutenberg Editor's Note</b>: There are many French +words in this file which have missing letters or invalid symbols +because the character set in which this file was produced did not +supply letters with the needed diacritic marks. If any reader +with skill in the French language is able to correct all these +problem words, it would be much appreciated. DW</p> +</div> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<p>Forty-two years have passed since California's golden star +first glittered in the flag of the United States of America.</p> +<p>Its chequered history virtually begins with the rush for gold +in '48-'49.</p> +<p>Acquired for the evident purpose of extending slave-holding +territory, it was occupied for years by a multitude of +cosmopolitan "free lances," who swept away the defenceless +Indians, and brutally robbed the great native families, the old +"Dons."</p> +<p>Society slowly made headway against these motley adventurers. +Mad riot, wildest excess, marked these earlier days.</p> +<p>High above the meaner knights of the "revolver and bowie +knife," greater than card sharper, fugitive bravo, or sly wanton, +giant schemers appeared, who throw, yet, dark shadows over the +records of this State.</p> +<p>These daring conspirators dominated legislature and forum, +public office and society.</p> +<p>They spoiled the Mexican, robbed the Indian, and paved the way +for a "Lone Star Republic," or the delivering of the great +treasure fields of the West to the leaders of Secession.</p> +<p>How their designs on this grand domain failed; what might have +been, had the South been more active in its hour of primary +victory and seized the Golden West, these pages may show.</p> +<p>The golden days of the "stars and bars" were lost by the +activity of the Unionists and the mistaken policy at +Richmond.</p> +<p>The utter demoralization of California by the "bonanza era" of +silver discovery, the rise of an invincible plutocracy, and the +second reign of loose luxury are herein set forth.</p> +<p>Scenes never equalled in shamelessness have disgraced the +Halls of State, the Courts, and the mansions of the suddenly +enriched.</p> +<p>The poor have been trampled by these tyrants for twenty +years.</p> +<p>Characters unknown in the social history of any other land, +have been evolved from this golden eddy of crime and +adventure.</p> +<p>Not till all these men and women of incredibly romantic +fortunes have passed away, will a firm social structure rise over +their graves.</p> +<p>Throttled by usurers, torn by gigantic bank wars, its +resources drained by colossal swindles, crouching yet under the +iron rule of upstart land-barons, "dashing journalism," and stern +railroad autocrats, the Californian community has gloomily +struggled along.</p> +<p>Newer States have made a relative progress which shames +California. Its future is yet uncertain.</p> +<p>The native sons and daughters of the golden West are the hope +of the Pacific.</p> +<p>The homemakers may yet win the victory.</p> +<p>Some of the remarkable scenes of the past are herein portrayed +by one who has seen this game of life played in earnest, the +shadowed drama of California.</p> +<p>There is no attempt to refer to individuals, save as members +of well-defined classes, in these pages. This book has absolutely +no political bias.</p> +<p>THE AUTHOR.</p> +<p>NEW YORK CITY, May 15, 1892.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<p><b>CONTENTS</b></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2H_INTR">INTRODUCTION.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2H_4_0002"><b>LAGUNITAS.</b></a></p> +<p><br /></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2H_4_0003"><b>BOOK I. — THE +LAST OF THE DONS BY THE BLUE PACIFIC.</b></a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0001">CHAPTER I. — UNDER +THE MEXICAN EAGLE.—EXIT THE FOREIGNER.—MONTEREY, +1840.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0002">CHAPTER II. — AT THE +PRESIDIO OF SAN FRANCISCO.—WEDDING CHIMES FROM THE MISSION +DOLORES.—LAGUNITAS RANCHO.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0003">CHAPTER III. — A +MISSING SENTINEL.—FREMONT'S CAMP.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0004">CHAPTER IV. — HELD +BY THE ENEMY.—"THE BEAR FLAG."</a></p> +<p><br /></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2H_4_0008"><b>BOOK II. — GOLD +FOR ALL.—A NEW STAR IN THE FLAG.</b></a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0005">CHAPTER V. — THE +GOLDEN MAGNET.—FREE OR SLAVE?</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0006">CHAPTER VI. — +LIGHTING FREEDOM'S WESTERN LAMP.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0007">CHAPTER VII. — THE +QUEEN OF THE EL DORADO.—GUILTY BONDS.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0008">CHAPTER VIII. — +JOAQUIN, THE MOUNTAIN ROBBER.—THE DON'S PERIL.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0009">CHAPTER IX. — THE +STRANGER'S FOOT AT LAGUNITAS. VALOIS' SPANISH BRIDE.</a></p> +<p><br /></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2H_4_0014"><b>BOOK III. — +GOING HOME TO DIXIE: STARS AND STRIPES, OR STARS AND +BARS?</b></a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER X. — A +LITTLE DINNER AT JUDGE HARDIN'S.—THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN +CIRCLE.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0011">CHAPTER XI. — "I'SE +GWINE BACK TO DIXIE."—THE FORTUNES OF WAR.—VAL +VERDE.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0012">CHAPTER XII. — +HOOD'S DAY.—PEACHTREE CREEK.—VALOIS' LAST +TRUST.—DE GRESS' BATTERY.—DEAD ON THE FIELD OF +HONOR.</a></p> +<p><br /></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2H_4_0018"><b>BOOK IV. — A +LOST HEIRESS.—MILLIONS AT STAKE.</b></a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0013">CHAPTER XIII. — +MOUNT DAVIDSON'S MAGIC MILLIONS.—A CALIFORNIA +PLUTOCRACY.—THE PRICE OF A CRIME.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0014">CHAPTER XIV. — A +MARIPOSA BONANZA.—NATALIE DE SANTOS BORN IN +PARIS.—THE QUEEN OF THE EL DORADO JOINS THE GALLIC "FOUR +HUNDRED."</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0015">CHAPTER XV. — AN OLD +PRIEST AND A YOUNG ARTIST.—THE CHANGELINGS.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0016">CHAPTER XVI. — +NEARING EACH OTHER.—THE VALOIS HEIRS.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0017">CHAPTER XVII. — +WEAVING SPIDERS.—A COWARD BLOW.—MARIE BRARD'S +DOOM.</a></p> +<p><br /></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2H_4_0024"><b>BOOK V. — +REAPING THE WHIRLWIND.</b></a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0018">CHAPTER XVIII. — JOE +WOODS SURPRISES A LADY.—LOVE'S GOLDEN NETS.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0019">CHAPTER XIX. — +LOVERS ONCE.—STRANGERS NOW.—FACE TO FACE.</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#link2HCH0020">CHAPTER XX. — JUDGE +HARDIN MEETS HIS MATCH.—A SENATORIAL ELECTION.—IN A +MARIPOSA COURT-ROOM.—THE TRUST FULFILLED AT +LAGUNITAS.</a></p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h1>LAGUNITAS.</h1> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>BOOK I. — THE LAST OF THE DONS BY THE BLUE +PACIFIC.</h2> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER I. — UNDER THE MEXICAN EAGLE.—EXIT THE +FOREIGNER.—MONTEREY, 1840.</h2> +<p>"Caramba! Adios, Seflores!" cried Captain Miguel Peralta, +sitting on his roan charger on the Monterey bluffs. A +white-sailed bark is heading southward for Acapulco. His vaqueros +tossed up their sombreros, shouting, "Vive Alvarado! Muerte los +estrangeros!"</p> +<p>The Pacific binds the hills of California in a sapphire zone, +unflecked by a single sail in sight, save the retreating trader, +which is flitting around "Punta de los Pinos."</p> +<p>It is July, 1840. The Mexican ensign flutters in the plaza of +Monterey, the capital of Alta California.</p> +<p>Miguel Peralta dismounts and crosses himself, murmuring, "Sea +por Dios y la Santissima Virgen."</p> +<p>His duty is done. He has verified the departure of the Yankee +ship. It is crowded with a hundred aliens. They are now +exiles.</p> +<p>Gathered in by General Vallejo, the "pernicious foreigners" +have been held at Monterey, until a "hide drogher" comes into the +port. Alvarado permits her to anchor under the guns of the hill +battery. He then seizes the ship for his use.</p> +<p>Captain Peralta is given the honor of casting out these +Ishmaels of fortune. He views calmly their exit. It is a land +which welcomes not the "Gringo." The ship-master receives a draft +on Acapulco for his impressed service. These pioneer argonauts +are warned (on pain of death) not to return. It is a day of +"fiesta" in Monterey. "Vive Alvarado!" is the toast.</p> +<p>So, when Captain Miguel dashes into the Plaza, surrounded with +his dare-devil retainers, reporting that the vessel is off shore, +the rejoicing is unbounded.</p> +<p>Cannons roar: the yells of the green jacket and yellow scrape +brigade rise on the silent reaches of the Punta de los Pinos. A +procession winds up to the Carmel Mission. Governor Alvarado, his +staff, the leading citizens, the highest families, and the +sefioritas attend a mass of thanksgiving. Attired in light +muslins, with here and there a bright-colored shawl giving a +fleck of color, and silk kerchiefs—fleecy—the ladies' +only other ornaments are the native flowers which glitter on the +slopes of Monterey Bay. Bevies of dark-eyed girls steal glances +at Andres, Ramon, or Jose, while music lends a hallowing charm to +the holy father's voice as he bends before the decorated altar. +Crowds of mission Indians fill the picturesque church. Every +heart is proud. Below their feet sleeps serenely good Fray +"Junipero Serra." He blessed this spot in 1770;—a man of +peace, he hung the bells on the green oaks in a peaceful +wilderness. High in air, to-day they joyously peal out a "Laus +Deo." When the mystery of the mass rehearses the awful sacrifice +of Him who died for us all, a silence broods over the +worshippers. The notes of the choristers' voices slowly die away. +The population leaves the church in gay disorder.</p> +<p>The Bells of the Past throw their spells over the mossy +church—at once triumph, tomb, and monument of Padre +Junipero. Scattered over the coast of California, the padres now +sleep in the Lethe of death. Fathers Kino, Salvatierra, Ugarte, +and sainted Serra left their beautiful works of mercy from San +Diego to Sonoma. With their companions, neither unknown tribes, +lonely coasts, dangers by land and sea, the burning deserts of +the Colorado, nor Indian menaces, prevented the linking together +of these outposts of peaceful Christianity. The chain of missions +across New Mexico and Texas and the Mexican religious houses +stretches through bloody Arizona. A golden circlet!</p> +<p>Happy California! The cross here preceded the sword. No blood +stains the Easter lilies of the sacrifice. The Dons and Donnas +greet each other in stately fashion, as the gathering disperses. +Governor Alvarado gives a feast to the notables. The old families +are all represented at the board. Picos, Peraltas, Sanchez, +Pachecos, Guerreros, Estudillos, Vallejos, Alvarados, De la +Guerras, Castros, Micheltorrenas, the descendants of +"Conquistadores," drink to Mexico. High rises the jovial chatter. +Good aguadiente and mission wine warm the hearts of the fiery +Californian orators. A proud day for Monterey, the capital of a +future Empire of Gold. The stranger is cast out. Gay caballeros +are wending to the bear-baiting, the bull-fights, the "baile," +and the rural feasts. Splendid riders prance along, artfully +forcing their wild steeds into bounds and curvets with the rowels +of their huge silver-mounted spurs.</p> +<p>Dark lissome girls raise their velvety eyes and applaud this +daring horsemanship. Se¤ioritas Luisa, Isabel, and +Panchita lose no point of the display. In a land without +carriages or roads, the appearance of the cavalier, his mount, +his trappings, most do make the man shine before these fair slips +of Mexican blue blood.</p> +<p>Down on the beach, the boys race their half-broken broncos. +These lads are as lithe and lean as the ponies they bestride. +Across the bay, the Sierras of Santa Cruz lift their virgin +crests (plumed with giant redwoods) to the brightest skies on +earth. Flashing brooks wander to the sea unvexed by mill, +unbridged in Nature's unviolated freedom. Far to north and south +the foot-hills stand shining with their golden coats of wild +oats, a memorial of the seeds cast over these fruitful mesas by +Governor Caspar de Portala. He left San Diego Mission in July, +1769, with sixty-five retainers, and first reached the Golden +Gate.</p> +<p>Beyond the Coast Range lies a "terra incognita." A few +soldiers only have traversed the Sacramento and San Joaquin. They +wandered into the vales of Napa and Sonoma, fancying them a +fairyland.</p> +<p>The sparkling waters of the American, the Sacramento, the +Yuba, Feather, and Bear rivers are dancing silently over rift and +ripple. There precious nuggets await the frenzied seekers for +wealth. There are no gold-hunters yet in the gorges of these +crystal streams. Down in Nature's laboratory, radiated golden +veins creep along between feathery rifts of virgin quartz. They +are the treasures of the careless gnomes.</p> +<p>Not till years later will Marshall pick up the first nugget of +gleaming gold in Sutter's mill-race at Coloma. The "auri sacra +fames" will bring thousands from the four quarters of the earth +to sweep away "the last of the Dons."</p> +<p>A lovely land to-day. No axe rings in its forests. No +steamboat threads the rivers. Not an engine is harnessed to man's +use in this silent, lazy realm. The heart of the Sierras is +inviolate. The word "Gold" must be whispered to break the +charm.</p> +<p>The sun climbs to noon, then slowly sinks to the west. It dips +into the silent sea, mirroring sparkling evening stars.</p> +<p>Stretching to Japan, the Pacific is the mysterious World's +End.</p> +<p>Along the brown coast, the sea otter, clad in kingly robes, +sports shyly in the kelp fields. The fur seals stream by unchased +to their misty home in the Pribyloffs. Barking sea-lions clamber +around the jutting rocks. Lazy whales roll on the quiet waters of +the bay, their track an oily wake.</p> +<p>It is the land of siesta, of undreamed dreams, of brooding +slumber.</p> +<p>The barbaric diversions of the day are done. The firing squad +leave the guns. The twang of guitar and screech of violin open +the fandango.</p> +<p>The young cavaliers desert the streets. Bibulous dignitaries +sit in council around Governor Alvarado's table. Mexican cigars, +wine in old silver flagons (fashioned by the deft workers of +Chihuahua and Durango), and carafes of aguadiente, garnish the +board.</p> +<p>The mahogany table (a mark of official grandeur), transported +from Acapulco, is occupied (below the salt) by the young +officers. Horse-racing, cock-fighting, and gambling on the combat +of bear and bull, have not exhausted their passions. Public monte +and faro leave them a few "doubloons" yet. Seated with piles of +Mexican dollars before them, the young heroes enjoy a "lay-out." +All their coin comes from Mexico. Hundreds of millions, in +unminted gold and silver, lie under their careless feet, yet +their "pieces of eight" date back to Robinson Crusoe! This is the +land of "manana!" Had Hernando Cortez not found the treasures of +Mexico, he might have fought his way north, over the Gila Desert, +to the golden hoards of the sprites of the Sierras.</p> +<p>At the banquet fiery Alvarado counselled with General Vallejo. +Flushed with victory, Captain Miguel was the lion of this feast. +He chatted with his compadres.</p> +<p>The seniors talked over the expulsion of the strangers.</p> +<p>Cool advisers feared trouble from France, England, or the +United States. Alvarado's instinct told him that foreigners would +gain a mastery over the Dons, if permitted to enter in numbers. +Texas was an irresistible warning. "Senores," said Alvarado, "the +Russians came in 1812. Only a few, with their Kodiak Indians, +settled at Bodega. Look at them now! They control beautiful +Bodega! They are 800 souls! True, they say they are going, but +only our posts at San Rafael and Sonoma checked them. A fear of +your sword, General!" Alvarado drank to Vallejo.</p> +<p>Vallejo bowed to his Governor. "Senor," said he, "you are +right. I have seen Mexico. I have been a scholar, as well as a +soldier. I knew Von Resanoff's Russian slyness. My father was at +the Presidio in 1807, when he obtained rights for a few fur +hunters. Poor fellow! he never lived to claim his bride, but he +was a diplomat."</p> +<p>"Foreigners will finally outroot us. Here is Sutter, building +his fort on the Sacramento! He's a good fellow, yet I'll have to +burn New Helvetia about his ears some day. Russian or Swiss, +French or Yankee, it's all the same. The 'Gringo' is the worst of +all. Poor Conception de Arguello. She waited long for her dead +Russian lover."</p> +<p>"General, do you think the Yankees can ever attack us by +land?" said Alvarado.</p> +<p>"Madre de Dios! No!" cried Vallejo, "we will drag them at our +horses' tails!"</p> +<p>"Then, I have no fear of them," said Alvarado. "We occupy San +Diego, Santa Barbara, Monterey, and San Francisco, the missions +of San Juan Capistrano, Los Angeles, San Luis Obispo and Santa +Clara, and help to control the Indians, but these home troubles +have stopped their useful growth."</p> +<p>Governor Alvarado sighed. Governor Hijar in 1834 had +desecularized the Catholic missions. Their cattle were stolen, +their harvests and vineyards destroyed. The converts were driven +off to seek new homes among the Utes, Yubas, Feather River, Napa, +and Mohave tribes.</p> +<p>Pious Alvarado crossed himself. He glanced uneasily at Padre +Castillo,—at the board. Only one or two priests were left +at the beautiful settlements clustering around the old mission +churches. To-day these are the only architectural ornaments of +Alta California.</p> +<p>"I doubt the wisdom of breaking up the missions," said +Alvarado, with gloomy brow. A skeleton was at this feast. The +troubled Governor could not see the handwriting on the wall. He +felt California was a priceless jewel to Mexico. He feared +imprudent measures. Lying dormant, California slept since +Cabrillo saw Cape Mendocino in 1542. After he turned his +shattered prows back to Acapulco on June 27, 1543, it was only on +November 10, 1602, that ambitious Viscaino raised the Spanish +ensign at San Diego. He boldly claimed this golden land for +Spain. Since that furtive visit, the lonely coast lay unsettled. +It was only used as a haunt by wild pirates, lurking to attack +the precious Philippine galleons sailing to Acapulco. For one +hundred and sixty-eight years the land was unvisited. Spanish +greed and iron rule satisfied itself with grinding the Mexicans +and turning southward in the steps of Balboa and Pizarro.</p> +<p>Viscaino's neglected maps rotted in Madrid for two centuries. +Fifty-five years of Spanish rule left California undeveloped, +save by the gentle padres who, aided by their escort, brought in +the domestic animals. They planted fruit-trees, grains, and the +grape. They taught the peaceful Indians agriculture. Flax, hemp, +and cotton supplanted the skins of animals.</p> +<p>Alvarado and Vallejo remembered the Spanish war in 1822. At +this banquet of victory, neither thought that, a few years later, +the rule of the Dons would be over; that their familiar places +would know them no more. Just retribution of fate! The Dons drove +out the friars, and recked not their own day was close at +hand.</p> +<p>As the exultant victors stood drinking the toast of the day, +"Muerte los estrangeros," neither crafty statesman, sly priest, +fiery general, wise old Don, nor reckless caballero, could +predict that the foreigners would return in two years. That they +would come under protection of the conquering British flag.</p> +<p>Alvarado was excited by his feuds with Micheltorrena. The +people were divided into clericals and anti-clericals. A time of +"storm and stress" hung over all.</p> +<p>Wise in victory was Captain Miguel Peralta. His campaign +against the foreigners marked the close of his service. Born in +1798, his family were lords of broad lands on the Alamedas of San +Francisco Bay. He was sent to the city of Mexico and educated, +serving in the army of the young republic. Returning to Alta +California, he became a soldier.</p> +<p>Often had he sallied out to drive the warlike Indian toward +the Sacramento. In watching his mustangs and cattle, he rode far +to the slopes of the Sierra Nevadas. Their summits glittered +under the blue skies, crowned with silvery snows, unprofaned by +the foot of man.</p> +<p>A sturdy caballero, courtly and sagacious. His forty-two years +admonished him now to settle in life. When Alvarado was in +cheeriest mood, at the feast, the Captain reminded him of his +promise to release him. This would allow Peralta to locate a new +ten-league-square grant of lands, given him for past services to +the State.</p> +<p>Graciously the Governor accorded the request. Noblesse oblige! +"Don Miguel, is there any reason for leaving us besides your new +rancho?" said Alvarado. The Captain's cheek reddened a little. +"Senor Gobernador, I have served the State long," said he. +"Juanita Castro waits for me at San Francisco. I will lay off my +rancho on the San Joaquin. I move there in the spring."</p> +<p>Alvarado was delighted. The health of Senorita Juanita Castro +was honored by the whole table. They drank an extra bumper for +gallant Don Miguel, the bridegroom.</p> +<p>The Governor was pleased. Powerful Castros and Peraltas +stretched from the Salinas, by San Jose and Santa Clara, to +Martinez; and San Rafael as well as Sonoma. By this clan, both +Sutter's Fort and the Russians could be watched.</p> +<p>This suitable marriage would bring a thousand daring horsemen +to serve under the cool leadership of Don Miguel in case of +war.</p> +<p>Peralta told the Governor he would explore the San Joaquin. He +wished to locate his ranch where he could have timber, wood, +water, game, and mountain air.</p> +<p>Don Miguel did not inform the chief of the state that in +riding from San Diego to Cape Mendocino he had found one +particular garden of Paradise. He had marked this for his home +when his sword would be sheathed in honor.</p> +<p>"I will say, your Excellency," said the Captain, "I fear for +the future. The Yankees are growing in power and are grasping. +They have robbed us of lovely Texas. Now, it is still a long way +for their ships to come around dreary Cape Horn. We had till late +years only two vessels from Boston; I saw their sails shining in +the bay of San Francisco when I was five years old. I have looked +in the Presidio records for the names. The Alexander and the +Aser, August 1st, 1803. Then, they begged only for wood and water +and a little provision. Now, their hide-traders swarm along our +coast. They will by and by come with their huge war-ships. These +trading-boats have no cannon, but they are full of bad rum. Our +coast people will be cleared out. Why, Catalina Islands," +continued the Captain, "were peopled once densely. There are yet +old native temples there. All these coast tribes have perished. +It is even worse since the holy fathers were robbed of their +possessions."</p> +<p>The good soldier crossed himself in memory of the wise padres. +They owned the thousands of cattle, sheep, and horses once +thronging the oat-covered hills. Theirs were the fruits, grains, +and comforts of these smiling valleys, untrodden yet by a foreign +foe.</p> +<p>"Your Excellency, when the Yankee war-ships have come, we +cannot resist them. Our batteries are old and poor, we have +little ammunition. Our arms are out of repair. The machete and +lasso are no match for their well-supplied men-of-war. I shall +locate myself so far in the interior that the accursed Gringos +cannot reach me with their ships or their boats. The trappers who +straggle over the deserts from Texas our horsemen will lasso. +They will bring them in bound as prisoners."</p> +<p>"Miguel, mi compadre," said the Governor, "do you think they +can cross the deserts?" He was startled by Peralta's views of the +future.</p> +<p>"Senor," said the Captain, "I saw the first American who came +overland. The wanderer appeared in 1826. It was the 20th of +December. He was found half starved by our vaqueros. I have his +name here on a piece of paper. I have long carried it, for I was +a guard over him."</p> +<p>Miguel slowly spelled off the detested Yankee name, Jedediah +S. Smith, from a slip of cartridge paper in his bolsa. Glory be +to the name of Smith!</p> +<p>"Where THAT one Yankee found a way, more will come, but we +will meet and fight them. This is our OWN land by the right of +discovery. The good King Philip II. of Spain rightfully claimed +this (from his orders to Viceroy Monterey in 1596). We get our +town name here in his honor. We will fight the English, and these +accursed Yankees. They have no right to be here. This is our +home," cried fiery Miguel, as he pledged the hospitable Governor. +He passed out into the dreaming, starry night. As he listened to +the waves softly breaking on the sandy beach, he thought fondly +of Juanita Castro. He fumbled over the countersign as the +sentinel presented his old flint-lock musket.</p> +<p>Both Governor and Captain sought the repose of their Spartan +pillows. The Captain forgot, in his zeal for Spanish dominion, +that daring Sir Francis Drake, in days even then out of the +memory of man, piloted the "Golden Hind" into Drake's Bay. He +landed near San Francisco in 1578, and remained till the early +months of 1579. Under the warrant of "good Queen Bess" he landed, +and set up a pillar bearing a "fair metal plate" with a picture +of that antiquated but regal coquette. He nailed on the pillar a +"fair struck silver five-pence," saluting the same with discharge +of culverins, much hearty English cheer and nautical jollity. The +land was English—by proscription.</p> +<p>Sir Francis, gallant and courtly, was, like many travellers, +as skilful at drawing the long bow as in wielding the rapier. He +was not believed at home.</p> +<p>Notwithstanding, he tarried months and visited the inland +Indians, bringing home many objects of interest, announcing "much +gold and silver," his voyage was vain. His real discovery was +deemed of no practical value. The robust Indians swarmed in +thousands, living by the watersides in huts, wearing deerskin +cloaks and garments of rushes. Hunters and fishers were they. +They entertained the freebooter, and like him have long since +mouldered to ashes. Along the Pacific Coast great mounds of +shells, marking their tribal seaside feasts, are now frequently +unearthed. Their humble history is shadowed by the passing +centuries. They are only a memory, a shadow on Time's stream. +Good Queen Bess sleeps in the stately fane of Westminster. Sir +Francis's sword is rusted. The "brazen plate" recording that date +and year is of a legendary existence only. "Drake's Bay" alone +keeps green the memory of the daring cruiser. Even in one century +the Spanish, Russian, Mexican, and American flags successively +floated over the unfrequented cliffs of California. Two hundred +years before, the English ensign kissed the air in pride, +unchallenged by the haughty Spaniard.</p> +<p>Miguel Peralta was happy. He had invited all the officials to +attend the nuptials by the Golden Gate. Venus was in the +ascendant. The red planet of Mars had set, he hoped, forever. The +officers and gentry contemplated a frolicsome ride around the +Salinas bend, over the beautiful passes to Santa Clara valley and +the town of Yerba Buena.</p> +<p>Peralta's marriage was an excuse for general love making. A +display of all the bravery of attire and personal graces of man +and maid was in order.</p> +<p>The soldier drifted into the land of dreams haunted by Juanita +Castro's love-lit eyes and rare, shy smile. No vision disturbed +him of the foothold gained in Oregon by the Yankees. They sailed +past the entrance of San Francisco Bay, on the Columbia, in 1797, +but they found the great river of the northwest. They named it +after their gallant bark, said to be the legal property of one +General Washington of America.</p> +<p>The echoes of Revolutionary cannon hardly died away before the +eagle-guided Republic began to follow the star of empire to the +Occident.</p> +<p>Had the listless mariners seen that obscured inlet of the +Golden Gate, they had never braved the icy gales of the Oregon +coast. Miguel Peralta's broad acres might have had another lord. +Bishop Berkeley's prophecy was infallible. A fatal remissness +seemed to characterize all early foreign adventure on Californian +coasts.</p> +<p>Admiral Vancouver in 1793 visited Monterey harbor, and failed +to raise the Union Jack, as supinely as the later British +commanders in 1846. French commanders, technically skilful and +energetic, also ignored the value of the western coast. As a +result of occasional maritime visits, the slender knowledge +gained by these great navigators appears a remarkable +omission.</p> +<p>The night passed on. Breezes sweeping through the pines of +Monterey brought no murmur from the south and east of the thunder +crash of cannon on the unfought fields of Mexico.</p> +<p>No drowsy vaquero sentinel, watching the outposts of Monterey, +could catch a sound of the rumbling wheels and tramping feet of +that vast western immigration soon to tread wearily the old +overland and the great southern route.</p> +<p>The soldier, nodding over his flint-lock as the white stars +dropped into the western blue, saw no glitter of the sails of +hostile Yankee frigates. Soon they would toss in pride at anchor +here, and salute the starry flag of a new sovereignty. The little +twinkling star to be added for California was yet veiled behind +the blue field of our country's banner.</p> +<p>Bright sun flashes dancing over the hills awoke the drowsy +sacristan. The hallowed "Bells of Carmel" called the faithful to +mass.</p> +<p>Monterey, in reverse order of its social grades, rose yawning +from the feast. Fandangos and bailes of the day of victory tired +all. Lazy "mozos" lolled about the streets. A few revellers idly +compared notes of the day's doings.</p> +<p>In front of the government offices, squads of agile horses +awaited haughty riders. A merry cavalcade watched for Captain +Miguel Peralta. He was to be escorted out of the Pueblo by the +"jeunesse doree" of Alta California.</p> +<p>Clad in green jackets buttoned with Mexican dollars, riding +leggings of tiger-cat skin seamed with bullion and fringed with +dollars, their brown faces were surmounted by rich sombreros, +huge of rim. They were decorated in knightly fashion with silver +lace. The young caballeros awaited their preux chevalier. Saddle +and bridle shone with heavy silver mountings. Embossed housings +and "tapadero," hid the symmetry of their deer-like coursers.</p> +<p>Pliant rawhide lassos coiled on saddle horns, gay serapes tied +behind each rider, and vicious machetes girded on thigh, these +sons of the West were the pride of the Pacific.</p> +<p>Not one of them would be dismayed at a seven days' ride to Los +Angeles. A day's jaunt to a fandango, a night spent in dancing, a +gallop home on the morrow, was child's play to these young +Scythians.</p> +<p>Pleasure-loving, brave, and courteous; hospitable, and fond of +their lovely land—they bore all fatigue in the saddle, yet +despised any manual exertion; patricians all, in blood.</p> +<p>So it has been since man conquered the noblest inferior +animal. The man on the horse always rides down and tramples his +brother on foot. Life is simply a struggle for the saddle, and a +choice of the rarest mount in the race. To-day these gay riders +are shadows of a forgotten past.</p> +<p>Before noon Captain Peralta receives the order of the +Governor. It authorizes him to locate his military grant. General +Vallejo, with regret, hands Miguel an order relieving him from +duty. He is named Commandante of the San Joaquin valley, under +the slopes of the undefiled Sierras.</p> +<p>Laden with messages, despatches, and precious letters for the +ranches on the road to the Golden Gate, he departs. These are +entrusted to the veteran sergeant, major-domo and shadow of his +beloved master. Miguel bounds into the saddle. He gayly salutes +the Governor and General with a graceful sweep of his sombrero. +He threads the crowded plaza with adroitness, swaying easily from +side to side as he greets sober friend or demure Donna. He smiles +kindly on all the tender-eyed senoritas who admire the brave +soldier, and in their heart of hearts envy Juanita Castro, the +Rose of Alameda.</p> +<p>Alert and courteous, the future bright before him, Peralta +gazes on the Mexican flag fluttering in the breeze. A lump rises +in his throat. His long service is over at last. He doffs his +sombrero when the guard "turns out" for him. It is the last +honor.</p> +<p>He cannot foresee that a French frigate will soon lie in the +very bay smiling at his feet, and cover the returning foreigner +with her batteries.</p> +<p>In two short years, sturdy old Commodore Jones will blunder +along with the American liners, CYANE and UNITED STATES, and haul +down that proud Mexican ensign. He will hoist for the first time, +on October, 19, 1842, the stars and stripes over the town. Even +though he apologizes, the foreigners will troop back there like +wolves around the dying bison of the west. The pines on Santa +Cruz whisper of a coming day of change. The daybreak of the age +of gold draws near.</p> +<p>Steadily through the live-oaks and fragrant cypress the +bridegroom rides to the wedding. A few days' social rejoicings, +then away to the beautiful forests of his new ranch. It lies far +in the hills of Mariposa. There, fair as a garden of the Lord, +the grassy knolls of the foothills melt into the golden wild-oat +fields of the San Joaquin.</p> +<p>Behind him, to the east, the virgin forest rises to the +serrated peaks of the Nevada. He drops his bridle on his horse's +neck. He dreams of a day when he can visit the unknown +ca¤ons beyond his new home.</p> +<p>Several Ute chiefs have described giant forests of big trees. +They tell of a great gorge of awful majesty; that far toward the +headwaters of the American are sparkling lakes fed by winter +snows.</p> +<p>His escort of young bloods rides behind him. They have had +their morning gymnastics, "a cheval," to edify the laughing +beauties of the baile of last night. The imprisoned rooster, +buried to the neck in soft earth, has been charged on and +captured gaily. Races whiled away their waiting moments.</p> +<p>Then, "adios, se¤oritas," with heart-pangs in chorus. +After a toss of aguardiente, the cigarito is lit. The beaux ride +out for a glimpse of the white cliffs of the Golden Gate. The +sleeping Monterey belles dream yet of yester-even. Nature smiles, +a fearless virgin, with open arms. Each rancho offers +hospitality. Money payments are unknown here yet, in such +matters.</p> +<p>Down the Santa Clara avenue of great willows these friends +ride in the hush of a starry evening. As the mission shows its +lights, musical bells proclaim the vesper service. Their soft +echoes are wafted to the ears of these devotees.</p> +<p>Devoutly the caballeros dismount. They kneel on the tiled +floor till the evening service ends.</p> +<p>Miguel's heart sinks while he thinks of the missions. He bows +in prayer. Neglected vineyards and general decay reign over the +deserted mission lands.</p> +<p>It is years since Hijar scattered the missions, He paralyzed +the work of the Padres. Already Santa Clara's gardens are wasted. +Snarling coyotes prowl to the very walls of the enclosures left +to the Padres.</p> +<p>Priest and acolytes quit the altar. Miguel sadly leaves the +church. Over a white stone on the sward his foot pauses. There +rests one of his best friends—Padre Pacheco—passed +beyond these earthly troubles to eternal rest and peace. The +mandate of persecution can never drive away that dead shepherd. +He rests with his flock around him.</p> +<p>Hijar seized upon the acres of the Church. He came down like +the feudal barons in England. Ghostly memories cling yet around +these old missions.</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "When the lord of the hill, Amundeville, + Made Norman church his prey, + And expelled the friars, one friar still + Would not be driven away." +</pre> +<p>So here the sacred glebe was held by a faithful sentinel. His +gravestone flashed a white protest against violence. In the +struggle between sword and cowl, the first victory is with the +sword; not always the last. Time has its revenges.</p> +<p>Padre Hinojosa, the incumbent, welcomes the Captain. There is +cheer for the travellers. Well-crusted bottles of mission claret +await them. The tired riders seek the early repose of primitive +communities.</p> +<p>Beside the fire (for the fog sweeps coldly over the Coast +Range) the priest and his guest exchange confidences. Captain +Peralta is an official bulletin. The other priest is summoned +away to a dying penitent. The halls of the once crowded residence +of the clergy re-echo strangely the footsteps of the few +servants.</p> +<p>By the embers the man of the sword and he of the gown lament +these days. They are pregnant with trouble. The directing +influence of the Padres is now absent. Peralta confides to +Hinojosa that jealousy and intrigue will soon breed civil +warfare. Micheltorrena is now conspiring against Alvarado. +Peralta seeks a secluded home in the forests of Mariposa. He +desires to gain a stronghold where he can elude both domestic and +foreign foes.</p> +<p>"Don Miguel," the padre begins, "in our records we have notes +of a Philippine galleon, the SAN AUGUSTIN, laden with the spoils +of the East. She was washed ashore in 1579, tempest tossed at the +Golden Gate. Viscaino found this wreck in 1602. Now I have +studied much. I feel that the Americans will gradually work west, +overland, and will rule us. Our brothers destroyed the missions. +They would have Christianized the patient Indians, teaching them +industries. Books tell me even the Apaches were peaceful till the +Spanish soldiers attacked them. Now from their hills they defy +the whole Mexican army." The good priest sighed. "Our work is +ruined. I shall lay my bones here, but I see the trade of the +East following that lonely wrecked galleon, and a young people +growing up. The Dons will go." Bestowing a blessing on his guest, +the padre sought his breviary. Priest and soldier slept in quiet. +To-day the old padre's vision is realized. The treasures of the +East pour into the Golden Gate. His simple heart would have been +happy to know that thousands of Catholics pause reverently at his +tomb covered with the roses of Santa Clara.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER II. — AT THE PRESIDIO OF SAN +FRANCISCO.—WEDDING CHIMES FROM THE MISSION +DOLORES.—LAGUNITAS RANCHO.</h2> +<p>Golden lances pierced the haze over the hills, waking the +padre betimes next morning. Already the sacristan was ringing his +call.</p> +<p>The caballeros were kneeling when the Indian choir raised the +chants. When mass ended, the "mozos" scoured the potrero, driving +in the chargers. Commandante Peralta lingered a half hour at the +priest's house. There, the flowers bloom in a natural tangle.</p> +<p>The quadrangle is deserted; while the soldier lingers, the +priest runs over the broken chain of missions. He recounts the +losses of Mother Church—-seventeen missions in Lower +California, twenty-one all told in Alta California, with all +their riches confiscated. The "pious fund"—monument of the +faithful dead—swept into the Mexican coffers. The struggle +of intellect against political greed looks hopeless.</p> +<p>The friends sadly exchange fears. The bridegroom reminds the +priest that shelter will be always his at the new rancho.</p> +<p>Peralta's plunging roan frets now in the "paseo." After a +blessing, the Commandante briskly pushes over the oak openings, +toward the marshes of the bay. His shadow, the old sergeant, +ambles alongside. Pearly mists rise from the bay. Far to the +northeast Mount Diablo uplifts its peaked summit. From the +western ridges balsamic odors of redwoods float lightly.</p> +<p>Down by the marshes countless snipe, duck, geese, and curlew +tempt the absent sportsman.</p> +<p>The traveller easily overtakes his escort. They have been +trying all the arts of the vaquero. Past hills where startled +buck and doe gaze until they gracefully bound into the covert, +the riders pursue the lonely trail. Devoid of talk, they follow +the shore, sweeping for six hours over the hills, toward the +Mission Dolores. Another hour brings them to the Presidio.</p> +<p>This fort is the only safeguard of the State; a battery of +ship guns is a mere symbol of power.</p> +<p>In the quadrangle two companies of native soldiers and a +detachment of artillery constitute the feeble garrison. Don +Miguel Peralta canters up to the Commandante's residence.</p> +<p>Evening parade is over. Listless sentinels drag over their +posts with the true military laziness.</p> +<p>Peralta is intent upon affairs both of head and heart. His +comrade, the Commandante, sits late with him in sage counsel. A +train follows from Monterey, with stores for the settlement. +Sundry cargoes of gifts for the fair Juanita, which the one +Pacific emporium of Monterey alone could furnish, are moving. +Miguel bears an order for a detail of a sergeant and ten men, a +nucleus of a force in the San Joaquin. Barges and a shallop are +needed to transport supplies up the river. By couriers, +invitations are to be sent to all the clans not represented at +the Monterey gathering.</p> +<p>The priests of the mission must also be visited and prepared +for the wedding. Miguel's heart softens. He thinks of his +bright-eyed Californian bride waiting in her home, soon to be +Seftora Peralta.</p> +<p>In twenty days Don Miguel arranges his inland voyage. While +his assistants speed abroad, he pays visits of ceremony to the +clergy and his lovely bride.</p> +<p>The great day of his life arrives. Clad in rich uniform, he +crosses to the eastern shore. A breeze of morning moves. The +planet of love is on high. It is only the sun tinting the bay +with golden gleams. Never a, steamer yet has ploughed these +silent waters.</p> +<p>Morning's purple folds Tamalpais in a magic mantle. Rolling +surges break on the bar outside the Golden Gate. Don Miguel, +attended by friends, receives his bride, the Rose of Alameda. +Shallops wait. The merry party sails for the western shore. +Fluttering flags decorate this little navy of San Francisco.</p> +<p>Merry laughter floats from boat to boat. The tinkle of the +guitar sounds gaily. Two hours end this first voyage of a new +life.</p> +<p>At the embarcadero of Yerba Buena the party descends. They are +met by a procession of all the notables of the mission and +Presidio. Hardy riders and ladies, staid matrons and blooming +senoritas, have gathered also from Santa Clara, Napa, and Sonoma. +The one government brig is crowded with a merry party from +Monterey.</p> +<p>The broad "camino real" sweeps three miles over sand dunes to +the mission. Past willow-shaded lakes, through stunted live-oak +groves, the wedding cavalcade advances. The poverty of the "mozo" +admits of a horse. Even the humblest admirer of Don Miguel to-day +is in the saddle. No one in California walks.</p> +<p>With courtly grace the warrior rides by his bride. Juanita +Castro is a true Spanish senorita. Blest with the beauty of youth +and the modesty of the Castilian, the Rose of Alameda has the +blush of her garden blossoms on her virgin cheek. She walks a +queen. She rides as only the maids of Alta California can.</p> +<p>The shining white walls of the mission are near. Eager eyes +watch in the belfry whence the chimes proclaim the great event. +To the west the Coast Range hides the blue Pacific. Rolling sand +hills mask the Presidio. East and south the panorama of shore and +mountain frames the jewel of the West, fair San Francisco +bay.</p> +<p>Soldiers, traders, dull-eyed Indians, and joyous retainers +crowd the approaches.</p> +<p>The cortege halts at the official residence. Soon the +dark-eyed bride is arrayed in her simple white robes. Attended by +her friends, Juanita enters the house of the Lord. Don Luis +Castro supports the bride, who meets at the altar her spouse. +Priests and their trains file in. The fateful words are said.</p> +<p>Then the girl-wife on her liege lord's arm enters the +residence of the Padres; a sumptuous California breakfast awaits +the "gente de razon."</p> +<p>Clangor of bells, firing of guns, vivas and popular clamor +follow the party.</p> +<p>The humbler people are all regaled at neighboring "casas."</p> +<p>In the home of the Padres, the nuptial feast makes glad the +gathered notables. The clergy are the life of this occasion. They +know when to lay by the austerity of official robes. From old to +young, all hearts are merry.</p> +<p>Alcaldes, officials, and baronial rancheros—all have +gathered for this popular wedding.</p> +<p>Carrillos, Del Valles, Sepulvedas, Arguellos, Avilas, Ortegas, +Estradas, Martinez, Aguirres and Dominguez are represented by +chiefs and ladies.</p> +<p>Beakers of mission vintages are drained in honor of the brave +and fair. When the sun slopes toward the hills, the leaders +escort the happy couple to the Presidio. The Commandante and his +bride begin their path in life. It leads toward that yet unbuilt +home in the wild hills of Mariposa. With quaint garb, rich +trappings, and its bright color, the train lends an air of +middle-age romance to the landscape.</p> +<p>Knightly blood, customs, and manners linger yet in the "dolce +far niente" of this unwaked paradise of the Occident. Sweetly +sound the notes of the famous sacred mission bell. It was cast +and blessed at far Mendoza in Spain, in 1192. Generations and +tens of generations have faded into shadowy myths of the past +since it waked first the Spanish echoes. Kings and crowns, even +countries, have passed into history's shadowy night since it +first rang out. The cunning artificer, D. Monterei, piously +inscribed it with the name of "San Franisco." Mingled gold and +silver alone were melted for its making. Its sacred use saved the +precious treasure many times from robbers. Six hundred and fifty +years that mellow voice has warned the faithful to prayer. Pride +and treasure of the Franciscans, it followed the "conquistadores" +to Mexico. It rang its peal solemnly at San Diego, when, on July +1, 1769, the cross of the blessed Redeemer was raised. The shores +of California were claimed for God by the apostolic +representative, sainted Friar Junipero Serra. In that year two +babes were born far over the wild Atlantic, one destined to wrap +the world in flame, and the other to break down the mightiest +modern empire of the sword. It was the natal year of Napoleon +Bonaparte, the child imperially crowned by nature, and that iron +chief, Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington.</p> +<p>The old bell sounded its first call to the faithful on San +Francisco Bay, in 1776. It was but a few months after the +American colonists gave to wondering humanity their impassioned +plea for a world's liberty—the immortal Declaration of the +Fourth of July.</p> +<p>No merrier peal ever sounded from its vibrant throat than the +rich notes following Miguel Peralta and his lovely Rose of +Alameda.</p> +<p>Revelry reigns at the Presidio; Commandante Peralta's quarters +are open. Music and brightest eyes mark the closing of this day. +In late watches the sentinels remember the feast as they pace +their rounds, for none are forgotten in largesse.</p> +<p>Fair Juanita learns to love the dainty title of Senora. Light +is her heart as she leaves for the Hills.</p> +<p>Don Miguel's barges already are on the San Joaquin. The cattle +have reached their potreros on the Mariposa. Artificer and "peon" +are preparing a shelter for the lord of the grant.</p> +<p>Donna Juanita waves her hand in fond adieu as the schooner +glides across to Alameda. Here Commandante Miguel has a report of +the arrival of his trains.</p> +<p>From the Castros' home, Juanita rides out toward the San +Joaquin. Great commotion enlivens the hacienda. Pack-trains are +laden with every requisite—tents, hammocks, attendants, +waiting-women and retainers are provided.</p> +<p>Winding out of the meadows of the Alameda, eastwardly over the +Coast Range defiles, the train advances. Even here "los ladrones" +(thieves of animals) are the forerunners of foreign robbers. +Guards watch the bride's slumbers.</p> +<p>Star-lit nights make the journey easy. It is the rainless +summer time; no sound save the congress of the coyotes, or the +notes of the mountain owl, disturbs the dreams of the +campers.</p> +<p>Don Miguel, in happiest mood, canters beside his wife. The +party has its scouts far in advance. Resting places in fragrant +woods, with pure brooks and tender grass, mark the care of the +outriders.</p> +<p>Over the Coast Range Juanita finds a land of delightful +promise. Far away the rich valley of the San Joaquin sweeps. +Rolling hills lie on either side, golden tinted with the ripening +wild oats. Messengers join the party with auspicious reports.</p> +<p>Down the San Joaquin plains the train winds. Here Senora +Peralta is in merry mood; hundreds of stately elk swing tossing +antlers, dashing away to the willows. Gray deer spring over brook +and fallen tree, led by some giant leader. Pigeons, grouse, +doves, and quail cleave the air with sudden alarm. Gorgeous in +his painted plumage, the wood duck whirrs away over the slow +gliding San Joaquin. Swan and wild geese cover the little +islands.</p> +<p>There are morning vocal concerts of a feathered orchestra. +They wake the slumbering bride long before Don Miguel calls his +swarthy retainers to the day's march.</p> +<p>By night, in the valley, the sentinels watch for the yellow +California lions, who delight to prey on the animals of the +train. Wild-cats, lynx, the beaver and raccoon scuttle away +surprised by this invasion of Nature's own game preserves.</p> +<p>It is with some terror that the young wife sees a display of +native horsemanship. Lumbering across the pathway of the train a +huge grizzly bear attracts the dare-devils. Bruin rises on his +haunches; he snorts in disdain. A quickly cast lariat encircles +one paw. He throws himself down. Another lasso catches his leg. +As he rolls and tugs, other fatal loops drop, as skilfully aimed +as if he were only a helpless bullock. Growling, rolling, biting, +and tearing, he cannot break or loosen the rawhide ropes. When he +madly tries to pull in one, the agile horses strain upon the +others. He is firmly entangled. The giant bear is tightly +bound.</p> +<p>Donna Juanita, her lord by her side, laughs at the dreaded +"oso." She enjoys the antics of the horsemen. They sport with +their enemy. After the fun ends, Bruin receives a gunshot. Choice +cuts are added to the camp menu.</p> +<p>The bear, panther, and rattlesnake are the only dangers of the +Californian woods.</p> +<p>Days of travel bring the hills of Mariposa into view. Here the +monarchs of the forest rise in air; their wild harps are swept by +the cool breezes of the Sierras. Tall, stately redwoods, swathed +in rich, soft, fibrous bark, tower to the skies. Brave oaks +spread their arms to shelter the doe and her fawns. The madrona, +with greenest leaf and pungent berry, stands here. Hazels, +willows, and cottonwoods follow the water. Bald knolls are +studded with manzanita, its red berry in harvest now. Sturdy +groves of wild plum adorn the hillsides. Grouse and squirrel +enjoy their annual feast.</p> +<p>The journey is over. When the train winds around a sweeping +range, Don Miguel nears his wife. The San Joaquin is studded with +graceful clumps of evergreen. In its bosom a lake shines like a +diamond. The Don uncovers smilingly. "Mi querida, there lies your +home, Lagunitas," he murmurs.</p> +<p>Sweet Juanita's eyes beam on her husband. She says softly, +"How beautiful!"</p> +<p>It is truly a royal domain. From the lake the ten leagues +square of the Commandante's land are a panorama of varying +beauties. Stretching back into the pathless forests, game, +timber, wood, and building stones are at hand; a never-failing +water supply for thousands of cattle is here. To the front, +right, and left, hill pastures and broad fields give every +variety of acreage.</p> +<p>Blithely the young wife spurs her favorite steed over the +turf. She nears the quarters. The old sergeant is the seneschal +of this domain. He greets the new arrivals.</p> +<p>With stately courtesy the Commandante lifts his bride from her +charger. The hegira is over. The occupation of arranging abodes +for all is the first task. Already the cattle, sheep, and horses +are fattening on the prairie grasses. Peons are sawing lumber. A +detachment is making bricks for the houses. These are one-storied +mansions with wide porches, beloved by the Californians; to-day +the most comfortable homes in the West. Quaintly superstitious, +the natives build so for fear of earthquakes. Corrals, pens, and +sheds have been first labors of the advance guard. The stores and +supplies are all housed.</p> +<p>Don Miguel left the choice of the mansion site to his Juanita. +Together they visit the different points of vantage. Soon the +hacienda rises in solid, fort-like simplicity.</p> +<p>The bride at Lagunitas strives to aid her companion. She shyly +expresses her preferences. All is at her bidding.</p> +<p>Don Miguel erects his ranch establishment in a military style. +It is at once a square stronghold and mansion shaded with ample +porches. Corrals for horses, pens for sheep, make up his +constructions for the first year. Already the herds are +increasing under the eyes of his retainers.</p> +<p>The Commandante has learned that no manual work can be +expected of his Californian followers, except equestrian duties +of guarding and riding.</p> +<p>A flash of mother-wit leads him to bring a hundred mission +Indians from the bay. They bear the brunt of mechanical toil.</p> +<p>Autumn finds Lagunitas Rancho in bloom. Mild weather favors +all. Stores and supplies are brought from San Francisco Bay.</p> +<p>Don Miguel establishes picket stations reaching to the Castro +Rancho.</p> +<p>Save that Juanita Peralta sees no more the glories of the +Golden Gate, her life is changed only by her new, married +relation. A few treasures of her girlhood are the sole reminders +of her uneventful springtime.</p> +<p>Rides through the forests, and canters over the grassy meadows +with her beloved Miguel, are her chiefest pleasures. Some little +trading brings in the Indians of the Sierras. It amuses the young +Donna to see the bartering of game, furs, forest nuts, wild +fruits and fish for the simple stores of the rancho. No warlike +cavaliers of the plains are these, with Tartar blood in their +veins, from Alaskan migration or old colonization. They have not +the skill and mysterious arts of the Aztecs.</p> +<p>These Piute Indians are the lowest order of indigenous tree +dwellers. They live by the chase. Without manufactures, with no +language, no arts, no agriculture, no flocks or herds, these +wretches, clad in the skins of the minor animals, are God's +meanest creatures. They live on manzanita berry meal, pine-nuts, +and grasshoppers. Bows and flint-headed arrows are their only +weapons. They snare the smaller animals. The defenceless deer +yield to their stealthy tracking. The giant grizzly and panther +affright them. They cannot battle with "Ursus ferox."</p> +<p>Unable to cope with the Mexican intruders, these degraded +tribes are also an easy prey to disease. They live without +general intercourse, and lurk in the foothills, or hide in the +ca¤ons.</p> +<p>Juanita finds the Indian women peaceable, absolutely ignorant, +and yet tender to their offspring. The babes are carried in +wicker baskets on their backs. A little weaving and basket-making +comprise all their feminine arts. Rudest skin clothing covers +their stunted forms.</p> +<p>Don Miguel encourages the visits of these wild tribes. He +intends to use them as a fringe of faithful retainers between him +and the Americans. They will warn him of any approach through the +Sierras of the accursed Yankee.</p> +<p>The Commandante, reared in a land without manufactures or +artisans, regarding only his flocks and herds, cherishes his +military pride in firmly holding the San Joaquin for the +authorities. He never turns aside to examine the resources of his +domain. The degraded character of the Indians near him prevents +any knowledge of the great interior. They do not speak the +language of his semi-civilized mission laborers from the Coast +Range. They cannot communicate with the superior tribes of the +North and East. All their dialects are different.</p> +<p>Vaguely float in his memory old stories of the giant trees and +the great gorge of the Yosemite. He will visit yet the glistening +and secret summits of the Sierras.</p> +<p>Weeks run into months. Comfort and plenty reign at Lagunitas. +With his wife by his side, Miguel cons his occasional despatches. +He promises the Seflora that the spring shall see a chapel +erected. When he makes the official visit to the Annual Council, +he will bring a padre, at once friend, spiritual father, and +physician. It is the first sign of a higher life—the little +chapel of Mariposa.</p> +<p>Winter winds sway the giant pines of the forests. Rains of +heaven swell the San Joaquin. The summer golden brown gives way +to the velvety green of early spring.</p> +<p>Juanita meekly tells her beads. With her women she waits the +day when the bell shall call to prayer in Mariposa.</p> +<p>Wandering by Lagunitas, the wife strays in fancy to far lands +beyond the ocean. The books of her girlhood have given her only a +misty idea of Europe. The awe with which she has listened to the +Padres throws a glamour of magic around these recitals of that +fairy world beyond the seas.</p> +<p>Her life is bounded by the social horizon of her family +circle; she is only the chatelaine. Her domain is princely, but +no hope clings in her breast of aught beside a faded middle age. +Her beauty hides itself under the simple robe of the Californian +matron. Visitors are rare in this lovely wilderness. The annual +rodeo will bring the vaqueros together. Some travelling officials +may reach the San Joaquin. The one bright possibility of her life +is a future visit to the seashore.</p> +<p>Spring casts its mantle of wild flowers again over the +hillocks. The rich grass waves high in the potreros; the linnets +sing blithely in the rose-bushes. Loyal Don Miguel, who always +keeps his word, girds himself for a journey to the distant +Presidio. The chapel is finished. He will return with the +looked-for padre.</p> +<p>Leaving the sergeant in command, Don Miguel, with a few +followers, speeds to the seashore. Five days' swinging ride +suffices the soldier to reach tide-water. He is overjoyed to find +that his relatives have determined to plant a family stronghold +on the San Joaquin. This will give society to the dark-eyed +beauty by the Lagunitas who waits eagerly for her Miguel's +return.</p> +<p>At the Presidio the Commandante is feasted. In a few days his +business is over. Riding over to the Mission Dolores, he finds a +missionary priest from Acapulco. He is self-devoted to labor. +Father Francisco Ribaut is only twenty-five years of age. Born in +New Orleans, he has taken holy orders. After a stay in Mexico, +the young enthusiast reaches the shores of the distant +Pacific.</p> +<p>Commandante Miguel is delighted. Francisco Ribaut is of French +blood, graceful and kindly. The Fathers of the mission hasten to +provide the needs of Lagunitas chapel.</p> +<p>The barges are loaded with supplies, councils and business +despatched. Padre Francisco and Don Miguel reach the glens of +Mariposa in the lovely days when bird, bud, and blossom make +Lagunitas a fairyland. In the mind of the veteran but one care +lingers—future war. Already the feuds of Alvarado and +Micheltorrena presage a series of domestic broils. Don Miguel +hears that foreigners are plotting to return to the coast; they +will come back under the protection of foreign war-ships. As his +horse bounds over the turf, the soldier resolves to keep out of +this coming conflict; he will guard his hard-won heritage. By +their camp fire, Padre Francisco has told him of the Americans +wrenching Texas away from Mexico. The news of the world is +imparted to him. He asks the padre if the Gringos can ever reach +the Pacific.</p> +<p>"As sure as those stars slope to the west," says the priest, +pointing to Orion, gleaming jewel-like in the clear skies of the +Californian evening.</p> +<p>The don muses. This prophecy rankles in his heart. He fears to +ask further. He fears these Yankees.</p> +<p>Joy reigns at Lagunitas! A heartfelt welcome awaits the +priest, a rapturous greeting for Don Miguel. The grassy Alamedas +are starred with golden poppies. Roses adorn the garden walks of +the young wife. Her pensive eyes have watched the valley +anxiously for her lord.</p> +<p>Padre Francisco hastens to consecrate the chapel. The Virgin +Mother spreads her sainted arms on high. A school for the Indians +soon occupies the priest.</p> +<p>Months roll around. The peace and prosperity of the rancho are +emulated by the new station in the valley.</p> +<p>Don Miguel rides over the mountains often in the duties of his +position. Up and down the inland basin bronzed horsemen sweep +over the untenanted regions, locating new settlements. San +Joaquin valley slowly comes under man's dominion.</p> +<p>Patriot, pioneer, and leader, the Commandante travels from +Sutter's Fort to Los Angeles. He goes away light-hearted. The +young wife has a bright-eyed girl to fondle when the chief is in +the saddle.</p> +<p>Happiness fills the parents' hearts. The baptism occasions the +greatest feast of Lagunitas. But, from the coast, as fall draws +near, rumors of trouble disturb the San Joaquin.</p> +<p>Though the Russians are about to leave the seacoast, still +Swiss Sutter has taken foothold on the Sacramento. The adherents +of Micheltorrena and Alvarado are preparing for war in the early +spring. To leave Lagunitas is impossible. The Indian tribes are +untrustworthy. They show signs of aggressiveness. Father Ribaut +finds the Indians of the Sierras a century behind those of the +coast. They are devoid of spiritual ideas. Contact with traders, +and association with wild sea rovers, have given the Indians of +the shore much of the groundwork of practical civilization.</p> +<p>To his alarm, Don Miguel sees the Indians becoming +treacherous. He discovers they make voyages to the distant posts, +where they obtain guns and ammunition.</p> +<p>In view of danger, the Commandante trains his men. The old +soldier sighs to think that the struggle may break out between +divided factions of native Californians. The foreigners may gain +foothold in California while its real owners quarrel.</p> +<p>The second winter at Lagunitas gives way to spring. Rapidly +increasing herds need for their care all the force of the +ranch.</p> +<p>From the coast plentiful supplies provided by the Commandante +arrive. With them comes the news of the return of the foreigners. +They are convoyed by a French frigate, and on the demand of the +British consul at Acapulco they are admitted. This is grave +news.</p> +<p>Donna Juanita and the padre try to smooth the gloomy brow of +Don Miguel. All in vain. The "pernicious foreigner" is once more +on the shores of Alta California. The Mexican eagle flutters +listlessly over the sea gates of the great West. The serpent +coils of foreign conspiracy are twining around it.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER III. — A MISSING SENTINEL.—-FREMONT'S +CAMP.</h2> +<p>"Quien Vive!" A sentinel's challenge rings out. The sounds are +borne away on the night wind sweeping Gavilan Peak. No response. +March breezes drive the salty fog from Monterey Bay into the eyes +of the soldier shivering in the silent hours before dawn.</p> +<p>"Only a coyote or a mountain wolf," mutters Maxime Valois. He +resumes his tramp along the rocky ramparts of the Californian +Coast Range. His eyes are strained to pierce the night. He waits, +his finger on the trigger of his Kentucky rifle.</p> +<p>Surely something was creeping toward him from the chaparral. +No: another illusion. Pride keeps him from calling for help. +Three-score dauntless "pathfinders" are sleeping here around +intrepid Fremont.</p> +<p>It is early March in 1846. Over in the valley the herd-guard +watch the animals. "No, not an Indian," mutters the sentinel. +"They would stampede the horses at once. No Mexican would brave +death here," muses Valois.</p> +<p>Only a boy of twenty, he is a veteran already. He feels for +his revolver and knife. He knows he can defy any sneaking +Californian.</p> +<p>"It must be some beast," he concludes, as he stumbles along +the wind-swept path. Maxime Valois dreams of his far-away home on +the "Lower Coast," near New Orleans. He wanders along, half +asleep. This hillside is no magnolia grove.</p> +<p>It is but a year since he joined the great "Pathfinder's" +third voyage over the lonely American Desert. He has toiled +across to the Great Salt Lake, down the dreary Humboldt, and over +the snowy Sierras.</p> +<p>Down by Walker's Lake the "pathfinders" have crept into the +valley of California. As he shields his face from biting winds, +he can see again the panorama of the great plains, billowy hills, +and broad vistas, tantalizing in their deceptive nearness. +Thundering herds of buffalo and all the wild chivalry of the +Sioux and Cheyennes sweep before him. The majestic forests of the +West have darkened his way. The Great Salt Lake, a lonely inland +sea; Lake Tahoe, a beautiful jewel set in snowy mountains; and +its fairy sisters near Truckee—all these pass before his +mental vision.</p> +<p>But the youth is tired. Onward ever, like the "Wandering Jew," +still to the West with Fremont.</p> +<p>Pride and hot southern blood nerve him in conflicts with the +fierce savages. Dashing among the buffalo, he has ridden in many +a wild chase where a single stumble meant death. His rifle has +rung the knell of elk and bear, of wolf and panther.</p> +<p>These varied excitements repaid the long days of march, but +the Louisianian is mercurial. Homeward wander his thoughts.</p> +<p>Hemmed in, with starvation near, in the Sierras, he welcomes +this forlorn-hope march to the sea. Fremont with a picked squad +has swept down to Sutter's Fort to send succor to the remaining +"voyageurs."</p> +<p>But the exploring march to Oregon, and back East by the +southern road, appalls him. He is tired now. He would be free. As +a mere volunteer, he can depart as soon as the frigate PORTSMOUTH +arrives at Monterey. He is tired of Western adventures. Kit +Carson, Aleck Godey, and Dick Owens have taught him their border +lore. They all love the young Southerner.</p> +<p>The party are now on the defensive. Maxime Valois knows that +General Jose Castro has forbidden them to march toward Los +Angeles. Governor Pio Pico is gathering his army to overawe "los +Americanos."</p> +<p>Little does Valois think that the guns of Palo Alto and Resaca +de la Palma will soon usher in the Mexican war. The "pathfinders" +are cut off from home news. He will join the American fleet, soon +expected.</p> +<p>He will land at Acapulco, and ride over to the city of Mexico. +From Vera Cruz he can reach New Orleans and the old Valois +plantation, "Belle Etoile." The magnolias' fragrance call him +back to-night.</p> +<p>Another rustle of the bushes. Clinging to his rifle, he peers +into the gloom. How long these waiting hours! The gleaming stars +have dipped into the far Pacific. The weird hours of the night +watch are ending. Ha! Surely that was a crouching form in the +arroyo. Shall he fire? No. Another deception of night. How often +the trees have seemed to move toward him! Dark beings fancifully +seemed to creep upon him. Nameless terrors always haunt these +night hours.</p> +<p>To be laughed at on rousing the camp? Never! But his inner +nature tingles now with the mysterious thrill of danger. Eagerly +he scans his post. The bleak blasts have benumbed his senses.</p> +<p>Far away to the graceful groves and Gallic beauties of Belle +Etoile his truant thoughts will fly once more. He wonders why he +threw up his law studies under his uncle, Judge Valois, to rove +in this wilderness.</p> +<p>Reading the exploits of Fremont fascinated the gallant +lad.</p> +<p>As his foot falls wearily, the flame of his enthusiasm +flickers very low.</p> +<p>Turning at the end of his post he starts in alarm. Whizz! +around his neck settles a pliant coil, cast twenty yards, like +lightning. His cry for help is only a gurgle. The lasso draws +tight. Dark forms dart from the chaparral. A rough hand stifles +him. His arms are bound. A gag is forced in his mouth. Dragged +into the bushes, his unknown captors have him under cover.</p> +<p>The boy feels with rage and shame his arms taken from his +belt. His rifle is gone. A knife presses his throat. He +understands the savage hiss, "Vamos adelante, Gringo!" The party +dash through the chaparral.</p> +<p>Valois, bruised and helpless, reflects that his immediate +death seems not to be his captors' will. Will the camp be +attacked? Who are these? The bitter words show them to be Jose +Castro's scouts. Is there a force near? Will they attack? All is +silent.</p> +<p>In a few minutes an opening is reached. Horses are there. +Forced to mount, Maxime Valois rides away, a dozen guards around +him. Grim riders in scrapes and broad sombreros are his escort. +The guns on their shoulders and their jingling machetes prove +them native cavalry.</p> +<p>For half an hour Valois is busy keeping his seat in the +saddle. These are no amiable captors. The lad's heart is sad. He +speaks Spanish as fluently as his native French. Every word is +familiar.</p> +<p>A camp-fire flickers in the live-oaks. He is bidden to +dismount. The lair of the guerillas is safe from view of the +"pathfinders."</p> +<p>The east shows glimmers of dawn. The prisoner warms his +chilled bones at the fire. He sees a score of bronzed faces +scowling at him. Preparations for a meal are hastened. A swarthy +soldier, half-bandit, half-Cossack in bearing, tells him roughly +to eat. They must be off.</p> +<p>Maxime already realizes he has been designedly kidnapped. His +capture may provide information for Castro's flying columns. +These have paralleled their movements, from a distance, for +several weeks. Aware of the ferocity of these rancheros, he obeys +instantly each order. He feigns ignorance of the language. +Tortillas, beans, some venison, with water, make up the meal. It +is now day. Valois eats. He knows his ordeal. He throws himself +down for a rest. He divines the journey will be hurried. A score +of horses are here tied to the trees. In a half hour half of +these are lazily saddled. Squatted around, the soldiers keep a +morose silence, puffing the corn-husk cigarette. The leader gives +rapid directions. Valois now recalls his locality as best he can. +Fremont's camp on Gavilan Peak commands the Pajaro, Salinas, and +Santa Clara. A bright sun peeps over the hills. If taken west, +his destination must be Monterey; if south, probably Los Angeles; +and if north, either San Francisco Bay or the Sacramento, the +headquarters of the forces of Alta California.</p> +<p>Dragged like a beast from his post, leaving the lines +unguarded! What a disgrace! Bitterly does he remember his +reveries of the home he may never again see.</p> +<p>The party mounts. Two men lead up a tame horse without bridle. +The leader approaches and searches him. All his belongings fill +the saddle-pouches of the chief. A rough gesture bids him mount +the horse, whose lariat is tied to a guard's saddle. Valois rages +in despair as the guard taps his own revolver. Death on the +slightest suspicious movement, is the meaning of that sign.</p> +<p>With rough adieus the party strike out eastwardly toward the +San Joaquin. Steadily following the lope of the taciturn leader, +they wind down Pacheco Pass. Valois' eyes rove over the beautiful +hills of the Californian coast. Squirrels chatter on the live-oak +branches, and the drumming grouse noisily burst out of their +manzanita feeding bushes.</p> +<p>Onward, guided by distant peak and pass, they thread the +trail. No word is spoken save some gruff order. Maxime's captors +have the hang-dog manner of the Californian. They loll on their +mustangs, lazily worrying out the long hours. A rest is taken for +food at noon. The horses are herded an hour or so and the advance +resumed.</p> +<p>Nightfall finds Valois in a squalid adobe house, thirty miles +from Gavilan Peak. An old scrape is thrown him. His couch is the +mud floor.</p> +<p>The youth sleeps heavily. His last remembrance is the surly +wish of a guard that Commandante Miguel Peralta will hang the +accursed Gringo.</p> +<p>At daybreak he is roused by a carelessly applied foot. The +dejected "pathfinder" begins his second day of captivity. He +fears to converse. He is warned with curses to keep silent. In +the long day Maxime concludes that the Mexicans suspect treachery +by Captain Fremont's "armed exploration in the name of +science."</p> +<p>These officials hate new-comers. Valois had been, like other +gilded youth of New Orleans, sent to Paris by his opulent family. +He knows the absorbing interest of the South in Western matters. +Stern old Tom Benton indicated truly the onward march of the +resistless American. In his famous speech, while the senatorial +finger pointed toward California, he said with true inspiration: +"There is the East; there is the road to India."</p> +<p>All the adventurers of the South are ready to stream to the +West. Maxime knows the jealous Californian officials. The +particulars of Fremont's voyage of 1842 to the Rockies, and his +crossing to California in 1843, are now history. His return on +the quest, each time with stronger parties and a more formidable +armament, is ominous. It warns the local hidalgos that the closed +doors of the West must yield to the daring touch of the +American—-manifest destiny.</p> +<p>The enemy are hovering around the "pathfinders" entrenched on +the hills; they will try to frighten them into return, and drive +them out of the regions of Alta California. Some sly Californian +may even contrive an Indian attack to obliterate them.</p> +<p>Valois fears not the ultimate fate of the friends he has been +torn away from. The adventurous boy knows he will be missed at +daybreak. The camp will be on the alert to meet the enemy. Their +keen-eyed scouts can read the story of his being lassoed and +carried away from the traces of the deed.</p> +<p>The young rover concludes he is to be taken before some +superior officer, some soldier charged with defending Upper +California. This view is confirmed. Down into the valley of the +San Joaquin the feet of the agile mustangs bear the jaded +travellers.</p> +<p>They cross the San Joaquin on a raft, swimming their horses. +Valois sees nothing yet to hint his impending fate. Far away the +rich green billows of spring grass wave in the warm sun. +Thousands of elk wander in antlered armies over the meadows. Gay +dancing yellow antelope bound over the elastic turf. Clouds of +wild fowl, from the stately swan to the little flighty snipe, +crowd the tule marshes of this silent river. It is the hunter's +paradise. Wild cattle, in sleek condition, toss their heads and +point their long, polished horns. Mustangs, fleet as the winds, +bound along, disdaining their meaner brethren, bowing under man's +yoke. At the occasional mud-walled ranches, vast flocks of fat +sheep whiten the hills.</p> +<p>Maxime mentally maps the route he travels. Alas! no chance of +escape exists. At the first open attempt a rifle-ball, or a blow +from a razor-edged machete, would end his earthly wanderings. +Despised, shunned by even the wretched women at the squalid +ranchos, he feels utterly alone. The half-naked children timidly +flee from him. The wicked eyes of his guards never leave him. He +knows a feeling animates the squad, that he would be well off +their hands by a use of the first handy limb and a knotted +lariat. The taciturn chief watches over him. He guards an ominous +silence.</p> +<p>The cavalcade, after seven days, are in sight of the purpled +outlines of the sculptured Sierras. They rise heavenward to the +sparkling crested pinnacles where Bret Harte's poet fancy sees in +long years after the "minarets of snow." Valley oaks give way to +the stately pines. Olive masses of enormous redwoods wrap the +rising foot-hills. Groves of laurel, acorn oak, and madrona +shelter the clinging panther and the grim warden of the Sierras, +the ferocious grizzly bear.</p> +<p>Over flashing, bounding mountain brooks, cut up with great +ledges of blue bed rock, they splash. Here the silvery salmon and +patrician trout leap out from the ripples to glide into the great +hollowed pools, yet the weary cavalcade presses on. Will they +never stop?</p> +<p>Maxime Valois' haggard face looks back at him from the +mirrored waters of the Cottonwood, the Merced, and the Mariposa. +The prisoner sees there only the worn features of his strangely +altered self. He catches no gleam of the unreaped golden harvest +lying under the feet of the wild mustangs. These are the treasure +channels of the golden West.</p> +<p>The mountain gnomes of this mystic wilderness are already in +terror lest some fortunate fool may utter the one magic word, +"Gold." It will call greedy thousands from the uttermost parts of +the earth to break the seals of ages, and burrow far below these +mountain bases. Through stubborn granite wall, tough porphyry, +ringing quartz, and bedded gnarled gneiss, men will grope for the +feathery, fairy veins of the yellow metal.</p> +<p>A feverish quest for gold alone can wake the dreamy "dolce far +niente" of the Pacific. God's fairest realm invites the foot of +man in vain. Here the yellow grains will be harvested, which buy +the smiles of beauty, blunt the sword of justice, and tempt the +wavering conscience of young and old. It will bring the human +herd to one grovelling level—human swine rooting after the +concrete token of power. Here, in later years, the wicked arm of +power will be given golden hammers to beat down all before it. +Here will that generation arise wherein the golden helmet can +dignify the idle and empty pate.</p> +<p>Maxime, now desperate, is ready for any fate. Only let this +long ride cease. Sweeping around the hills, for the first time he +sees the square courtyard, the walled casas of the rancho of +Lagunitas.</p> +<p>By the shores of the flashing mountain lake, with the rich +valley sweeping out before it, it lies in peace. The fragrant +forest throws out gallant flanking wings of embattled trees. It +is the residence of the lord of ten leagues square. This is the +great Peralta Rancho.</p> +<p>In wintering in the San Joaquin, Maxime has often heard of the +fabulous wealth and power of this inland chieftain. Don Miguel +Peralta is Commandante of the San Joaquin. By a fortunate +marriage he is related to Jose Castro, the warlike Commandante +general of Pio Pico—a man of mark now. Thousands of cattle +and horses, with great armies of sheep, are herded by his +semi-military vaqueros. The young explorer easily divines now the +reason of his abduction.</p> +<p>The party dismounts. While the sergeant seeks the major-domo, +Valois' wondering eye gazes on the beauties of lake and forest. +Field and garden, bower and rose-laden trellises lie before him. +The rich autumn sun will ripen here deep-dyed clusters of the +sweet mission grapes. It is a lordly heritage, and yet his +prison. Broad porches surround the plaza. There swinging +hammocks, saddled steeds, and waiting retainers indicate the +headquarters of the Californian Don.</p> +<p>Maxime looks with ill-restrained hatred at his fierce guards. +They squat on the steps and eye him viciously. He is under the +muzzle of his own pistol. It is their day of triumph.</p> +<p>Dragging across the plaza, with jingling spur, trailing +leggings, and sombrero pushed back on his head, the sergeant +comes. He points out Maxime to a companion. The new-comer +conducts the American prisoner to a roughly furnished room. A +rawhide bed and a few benches constitute its equipment. A heavy +door is locked on him. The prisoner throws himself on the hard +couch and sleeps. He is wakened by an Indian girl bringing food +and water. Some blankets are carelessly tossed in by a "mozo." +The wanderer sleeps till the birds are carolling loudly in the +trees.</p> +<p>Hark! a bell! He springs to the window. Valois sees a little +chapel, with its wooden cross planted in front. Is there a priest +here? The boy is of the old faith. He looks for a possible friend +in the padre. Blessed bell of peace and hope!</p> +<p>Sturdy and serious is the major-domo who briskly enters +Valois' room.</p> +<p>"Do you speak Spanish?" he flatly demands in that musical +tongue.</p> +<p>"Yes," says Maxime, without hesitation. He knows no subterfuge +will avail. His wits must guard his head.</p> +<p>"Give me your name, rank, and story," demands the steward.</p> +<p>Valois briefs his life history.</p> +<p>"You will be taken to the Commandante. I advise you not to +forget yourself; you may find a lariat around your neck." With +which admonition the major-domo leaves. He tosses Maxime a bunch +of cigaritos, and offers him a light ere going, with some show of +courtesy.</p> +<p>Valois builds no fallacious hopes on this slender concession. +He knows the strange Mexicans. They would postpone a military +execution if the condemned asked for a smoke.</p> +<p>Facing his fate, Maxime decides, while crossing the plaza, to +conceal nothing. He can honorably tell his story. Foreigners have +been gathering in California for years. The Commandante can +easily test his disclosures, so lying would be useless. He +believes either a British or American fleet will soon occupy +California. The signs of the times have been unmistakable since +the last return of the foreigners. Will he live to see the day? +"Quien sabe?"</p> +<p>Maxime sees a stern man of fifty seated in his official +presence room. Commandante Miguel Peralta is clad in his undress +cavalry uniform. The sergeant captor is in attendance, while at +the door an armed sentinel hovers. This is the wolf's den. Maxime +is wary and serious.</p> +<p>"You are a Yankee, young man," begins the soldier. Maxime +Valois' Creole blood stirs in his veins.</p> +<p>"I am an American, Senor Commandante, from New Orleans. No +Yankee!" he hotly answers, forgetting prudence. Peralta opens his +eyes in vague wonder. No Yankee? He questions the rash prisoner. +Valois tells the facts of Fremont's situation, but he firmly says +he knows nothing of his future plans.</p> +<p>"Why so?" demands Peralta. "Are you a common soldier?" Maxime +explains his position as a volunteer.</p> +<p>A pressing inquest follows. Maxime's frankness touches the +Commandante favorably. "I will see you in a day or so. I shall +hold you as a prisoner till I know if your chief means war. I may +want you as an interpreter if I take the field."</p> +<p>"Sergeant," he commands.</p> +<p>The captor salutes his chief.</p> +<p>"Has this young man told me the truth?"</p> +<p>"As far as I know, Senior Don Miguel," is the reply.</p> +<p>"See that he has all he wants. Keep him watched. If he behaves +himself, let him move around. He is not to talk to any one. If he +tries to escape, shoot him. If he wants to see me, let me +know."</p> +<p>The Commandante lights a Mexican cigar, and signs to the +sergeant to remove his prisoner. Maxime sees a score of soldiers +wandering around the sunny plaza, where a dozen fleet horses +stand saddled. He feels escape is hopeless. As he moves to the +door, the chapel bell rings out again, and with a sudden +inspiration he halts.</p> +<p>"Senior Commandante, can I see the priest?" he asks.</p> +<p>"What for?" sharply demands the officer.</p> +<p>"I am a Catholic, and would like to talk to him."</p> +<p>Don Miguel Peralta gazes in wonder. "A Gringo and a Catholic! +I will tell him to see you."</p> +<p>Valois is reconducted to his abode. He leaves a puzzled +Commandante, who cannot believe that any despised "Gringo" can be +of the true faith. He has only seen the down-east hide traders, +who are regarded as heathen by the orthodox Dons of the +Pacific.</p> +<p>Don Miguel knows not that the mariners from Salem and the +whalers of New England hold different religious views from the +impassioned Creoles of the Crescent City.</p> +<p>The prisoner's eye catches the black robe of the priest +fluttering among the rose walks of the garden. Walking with him +is a lady, while a pretty girl of seven or eight years plays in +the shady bowers.</p> +<p>The sergeant gruffly fulfils the orders of his chief. Maxime +is given the articles needed for his immediate use. He fears now, +at least, a long captivity, but a war may bring his doom suddenly +on him.</p> +<p>There is an air of authority in Miguel Peralta's eye, which is +a guarantee of honor, as well as a personal menace. His detention +will depend on the actions of the besieged Fremont.</p> +<p>Valois prays that bloodshed may not occur. His slender chances +hang now on a peaceable solution of the question of this Yankee +visit.</p> +<p>There have been days in the dreary winter, when Maxime Valois +has tried to divine the future of the magnificent realm he +traverses. His education and birth gave him the companionship of +the scientific subordinates of the party. His services claimed +friendly treatment of the three engineer officers in command. +That the American flag will finally reach the western ocean he +doubts not. Born in the South, waited upon by patrimonial slaves, +he is attached to the "peculiar institution" which throws its +dark shadow on the flag of this country. Already statesmen of the +party have discussed the question of the extension of slavery. +Maxime Valois knows that the line of the Missouri Compromise will +here give a splendid new southern star to the flag south of 36 +deg 30 min. In the long, idle hours of camp chat, he has +laughingly pledged he would bring a band of sable retainers to +this western terra incognita. He dreamed of establishing a great +plantation, but the prison cell shatters these foolish +notions.</p> +<p>He marvels at his romantic year's experience. Was it to +languish in a lonely prison life on the far Pacific, that he left +the gay circle at far-off Belle Etoile? Worn with fatigue, +harassed with loneliness, a prisoner among strangers, Maxime +Valois' heart fails him. Sinking on the couch, he buries his head +in his hands.</p> +<p>No present ray of hope cheers the solitary American. He raises +his eyes to see the thoughtful face of a young priest at the door +of his prison room.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IV. — HELD BY THE ENEMY.—"THE BEAR +FLAG."</h2> +<p>The padre bends searching eyes on the youth as the door opens. +The priest's serious face heightens his thirty-five years. He is +worn by toil as a missionary among the tribes of the +Gila—the Apaches and the wild and brutal Mojaves. Here, +among the Piute hill dwellers, his task is hopeless. This +spiritual soil is indeed stony. Called from the society of Donna +Juanita and his laughing pupil, merry Dolores, he comes to test +the religious faith of the young freebooter—Yankee and +Catholic at once.</p> +<p>Maxime's downcast appearance disarms the padre. Not such a +terrible fire-eater! He savors not of infidel Cape Cod.</p> +<p>"My son, you are in trouble," softly says the padre. It is the +first kind word Maxime has heard. The boy's heart is full, so he +speaks freely to the mild-mannered visitor. Padre Francisco +listens to the recital. His eyes sparkle strangely when Valois +speaks of New Orleans.</p> +<p>"Then you understand French?" cries the padre joyously.</p> +<p>"It is my native tongue," rejoins Valois proudly.</p> +<p>"My name before I took orders was Fran‡ois Ribaut," +says the overjoyed father. "Hold! I must see Don Miguel. I am a +Frenchman myself." He flies over the plaza, his long robe +fluttering behind him. His quickened steps prove a friendly +interest. Maxima's heart swells within him. The beloved language +has unlocked the priestly heart.</p> +<p>In five minutes the curate is back. "Come with me, 'mon +fils,'" he says. Guided by the priest, Maxime leaves his prison, +its unlocked door swinging open. They reach the head of the +square.</p> +<p>By the chapel is Padre Francisco's house, school-room, and +office. A sacristy chamber connects chapel and dwelling.</p> +<p>The missionary leads the way to the chancel, and points to the +altar rails.</p> +<p>"I will leave you," he whispers.</p> +<p>There, on his knees, where the wondering Indians gaze in awe +of the face on the Most Blessed Virgin, Maxime thanks God for +this friend raised up to him in adversity.</p> +<p>He rejoins the missionary on the rose-shaded porch. In +friendly commune he answers every eager query of the padre. The +priest finds Maxime familiar with Paris. It is manna in the +wilderness to this lonely man of God to speak of the beloved +scenes of his youth.</p> +<p>After the Angelus, Maxime rests in the swinging hammock. The +priest confers with the Commandante. His face is hopeful on +returning. "My poor boy," he says, "I gained one favor. Don +Miguel allows me to keep you here. He loves not the American. +Promise me, my son, on the blessed crucifix, that you will not +escape. You must not aid the American troops in any way; on this +hangs your life."</p> +<p>These words show that under the priest's frock beats yet the +gallant heart of the French gentleman. Maxima solemnly promises. +The good father sits under the vines, a happy man.</p> +<p>Day by day the new friends stroll by the lake. Seated where +below them the valley shines in all its bravery of spring, +surrounded with the sighing pines, Padre Francisco tells of the +resentment of the Californians toward all Americans. They are all +"Gringos," "thieving Yankees."</p> +<p>"Be careful, my son, even here. Our wild vaqueros have waylaid +and tortured to death some foreigners. The Diggers, Utes, and +Hill Indians butcher any wanderer. Keep closely under my +protection. Don Miguel adores Donna Juanita, sweet Christian +lady! She will lend me aid; you are thus safe. If your people +leave the Hawk's Peak without a battle, our cavalry will not take +the field; we expect couriers momentarily. Should fighting begin, +Don Miguel will lead his troops. He will then take you as guide +or interpreter; God alone must guard you." The man of peace +crosses himself in sadness. "Meanwhile, I will soften the heart +of Don Miguel."</p> +<p>Maxime learns of the padre's youth. Educated for the Church +after a boyhood spent in Paris, he sailed for Vera Cruz. He has +been for years among the Pacific Indians. He familiarized himself +with the Spanish language and this western life in Mexico. +Stout-hearted Padre Francisco worked from mission to mission till +he found his self-chosen field in California.</p> +<p>The "pathfinder" sees the decadence of priestly influence. +Twenty-one flourishing missions have been secularized by Governor +Hijar since 1834. Now the superior coast tribes are scattered, +and the civilizing work since 1769 is all lost to human progress. +In glowing words Padre Francisco tells of idle farms, confiscated +flocks, and ruined works of utility. Beautiful San Luis Rey is +crumbling to decay. Its bells hang silent. The olive and vine +scatter their neglected fruits. The Padres are driven off to +Mexico. The pious fund is in profane coffers. San Juan Capistrano +shines out a lonely ruin in the southern moonlight. The oranges +of San Gabriel now feed only the fox and coyote. Civil dissension +and wars of ambitious leaders follow the seizure of the missions. +Strangers have pillaged the religious settlements. All is +relapsing into savagery. In a few stations, like Monterey, Santa +Clara, Santa Barbara, and Yerba Buena, a lonely shepherd watches +a diminished flock; but the grand mission system is ruined.</p> +<p>"Does not the Government need the missions?" queries +Maxime.</p> +<p>"Ah! my son, Sonoma and San Rafael are kept up to watch the +Russians at Fort Ross. Sutter menaces us at New Helvetia. I can +see the little cloud of the future, which will break one day in +storm."</p> +<p>"Whence comes it, father?" queries the prisoner.</p> +<p>"From the United States," replies the padre. "Our whole +political system is paralyzed. The Americans have supported the +Texans in battle. That splendid land is dropping away from +Mexico. We will lose this glorious land, and our beloved flag +will go down forever. The Government sleeps, and the people will +be ruined. There are two thousand scattered foreigners here +to-day. They gain daily: we weaken hourly. When your people in +numbers follow such leaders as your gallant captain over the +plains, we will lose this land also."</p> +<p>The padre sighed. His years of hard endeavor are wasted, the +fruits are wanting, his labor is vain.</p> +<p>"Why is not your Government more vigorous?" says the +stranger.</p> +<p>"My son, our pastoral life builds up no resources of this +great land. The young men will not work; they only ride around. +Flocks and herds alone will not develop this paradise. The +distance from Mexico has broken the force of the laws. In +fifty-five years of Spanish rule and twenty-three more of +Mexican, we have had twenty-two different rulers. The old +families have lost their loyalty, and they now fight each other +for supremacy. All is discord and confusion in Alta +California."</p> +<p>"And the result?" questions Maxime.</p> +<p>"Either England or the United States will sweep us off +forever," mourns the padre. He addresses himself to his beads. +Bright sunlight wakes Maxime with the birds. The matin bell rings +out. He rises refreshed by the father's hospitality.</p> +<p>During the day Valois measures the generosity of Padre +Francisco. A few treasured books enable Maxime to amuse himself. +As yet he dares not venture out of the garden.</p> +<p>The sound of clattering hoofs causes the prisoner to drop his +volume. He sits enjoying a flask of ripe claret, for he is broken +down and needs recruiting.</p> +<p>A courier spurs his foam-covered horse up to the Commandante's +porch. Panting and staggering, the poor beast shows the abuse of +a merciless rider. The messenger's heels are adorned with two +inch spiked wheels, bloody with spurring the jaded beast.</p> +<p>Peace or war? Maxime's heart beats violently. He prudently +withdraws. The wild soldiery gather on the plaza. His guards are +there with his own weapons, proudly displayed.</p> +<p>The Southerner chafes in helplessness. Could he but have his +own horse and those weapons, he would meet any two of them in the +open. They are now clamoring against the Gringos. Soon the +courier reappears. All is bustle and shouting. Far away, on the +rich knolls, Maxime sees fleet riders gathering up the horses +nearest the ranch. When Padre Francisco arrives from his morning +lessons, a troop of vaqueros are arrayed on the plaza.</p> +<p>"The news?" eagerly queries Maxime.</p> +<p>"Thanks be to God!" says the padre, "Fremont has broken camp +after five days' stay at the Hawk's Peak. He is moving north. +There has been skirmishing, but no battle. Don Miguel is sending +a company to watch their march, and will attack if they menace +any of our sentinels. The Americans may, however, go into Oregon, +or back over the mountains. The Commandante will keep his main +force in the valley. If they turn back, he will dispute their +passage. You will be kept here."</p> +<p>Valois gazes on the departure. He takes an informal adieu of +those trusty weapons which have been with him in so many scenes +of danger.</p> +<p>The last files sweep down the trail. Lagunitas Lake smiles +peacefully from its bowers. The war clouds have rolled north.</p> +<p>As days glide by, the priest and his youthful charge grow into +each other's hearts. Padre Francisco is young enough still to +have some flowers of memory blossoming over the stone walls of +his indomitable heart. Maxime learns the story of his early life. +He listens to the padre's romantic recitals of the different +lands he has strayed over. Couriers arrive daily with news of +Fremont's whirling march northward. The explorer travels like a +Cossack in simplicity. He rides with the sweep of the old +Tartars. Cool, wary and resolute, the "Pathfinder" manoeuvres to +baffle clumsy Castro. He may yet elude his pursuers, or cut his +way out.</p> +<p>Don Miguel steadily refuses to see Maxime. Through the padre, +Maxime receives any necessary messages or questions.</p> +<p>The Louisianian learns that all the foreigners are in +commotion. Peralta's spies bring rumors of war vessels expected, +both English and American.</p> +<p>In New Helvetia, in Sonoma, at Monterey, and in Yerba Buena, +guided by the most resolute, the aliens are quietly arming; they +are secretly organizing.</p> +<p>March wears away into April. The breath of May is wafted down +in spicy odors from the forests.</p> +<p>Fremont is away hiding where the great Sacramento River +mountains break into the gorgeous canyons of its headwaters. Will +he never turn?</p> +<p>The padre, now unreservedly friendly, tells Maxime that Castro +fears to attack Fremont in the open field. He has sent Indian +runners to stir up the wild Klamath, Snake River, and Oregon +Indians against the Americans. This is serious. Should the +explorers receive a check there, they would retreat; then the +guerillas would cut them off easily.</p> +<p>Padre Francisco fears for the result. He tells Maxime that +bands of fierce vaqueros are riding the roads; they have already +butchered straggling foreigners. A general war of extermination +may sweep from Sonoma to San Diego.</p> +<p>Valois' weary eyes have roved from mountain to valley for many +days. Will he ever regain his liberty? A few morning walks with +the padre, and a stroll by the waters of Lagunitas, are his only +liberties.</p> +<p>The priest is busy daily with the instruction of little +Dolores. The child's sweet, dancing eyes belie her mournful name. +Valois has passed quiet Donna Juanita often in the garden walks. +A light bending of her head is her only answer to the young man's +respectful salutation. She, too, fears and distrusts all +Americans.</p> +<p>The roses have faded from her cheeks too early. It is the hard +lot of the California lady. Though wealth of lands in broad +leagues dotted with thousands of cattle, horses, and sheep is +hers, this daughter of an old feudal house has dreamed away a +lonely life. It is devoid of all social pleasures since she +became the first lady of Lagunitas.</p> +<p>Colorless and sad is her daily life. Denied society by her +isolation, she is yet too proud to associate with her women +dependants.</p> +<p>Her lord is away often in the field. His days are spent +galloping over his broad domains. There is no intellectual life, +no change of day and day. The years have silently buried +themselves, with no crown of happy memories. She left her merry +home at the Alameda shore of the great bay to be the lonely lady +of this distant domain. Her narrow nature has settled into +imitative and mechanical devotion, a sad, cold faith.</p> +<p>Youthful lack of education has not been repaired by any +individual experience of life. Maternity has been a mere physical +epoch of her dreary womanhood. The current of her days in narrow +channels sluggishly flows toward its close.</p> +<p>Even the laughing child runs away from the young "pathfinder." +She furtively peers at him from the shelter of the graceful vines +and rose bowers of her playground.</p> +<p>Maxime has exhausted the slender library of his friend. In the +peaceful evening hours he listens to weird stories of the lonely +land of the Far West—early discovery, zealous monkish +exploration, daring voyages in trackless unknown seas, and the +descent of curious strangers. Bold Sir Francis Drake, Cabrillo, +Viscaino, Portala, the good Junipero Serra of sainted memory, +live again in these recitals.</p> +<p>Day by day passes. No news from the Americans at bay in the +wilds of the Klamath. By courier the Don has heard of Castro's +feeble moves. He toils along with his cavalry, guns, and foot +soldiers, whom Fremont defied from behind the rocky slopes of +Hawk's Peak. The foreigners are all conspiring.</p> +<p>A cloud of government agents are scouring the valleys for aid +to send a column to attack Fremont. It had been a pride of Don +Miguel's military career to assist warlike Vallejo to drive the +foreigners from Monterey in 1840. He is ready for the fray +again.</p> +<p>The Commandante gnashed his teeth when he heard, in 1842, at +Lagunitas, that the strangers had returned. He remembers the +shameful day of October 19, 1842, when the Yankee frigates +covered Monterey with their guns, while Commodore Jones hoisted +the stars and stripes for a day or so. Always before the +English.</p> +<p>Though it was disowned, this act showed how easily the +defenceless coast could be ravaged. Many times did he thank the +Blessed Virgin that his domain was far away in the inland basin. +There his precious herds are safe from the invader.</p> +<p>There is danger for Valois in the Commandante's scowl when the +saddest May day of his life comes. A rider on relay horses hands +him a fateful despatch.</p> +<p>"Curse the Gringos!" He strikes his table till the glasses +ring.</p> +<p>There are five huge Yankee war vessels in Monterey harbor. It +is too true. This time they have come to stay. Padre Francisco +softly makes his exit. He keeps Maxime in cover for a day or +so.</p> +<p>Bit by bit, the details come to light. The SAVANNAH, +PORTSMOUTH, CYANE, LEVANT, and CONGRESS bear the flag of +Commodore Sloat. This force can crush any native army. All +communication by sea with Mexico is now cut off. The Californian +Government is paralyzed.</p> +<p>Worse and worse, the wild Klamath warriors have failed in +their midnight dash on Fremont. He is now swinging down the +valley—a new danger to Maxime.</p> +<p>What means all this? The perplexed Don knows not what to do. +From his outposts come menacing news. The battery of the +PORTSMOUTH commands the town of Yerba Buena. San Diego, too, is +under American guns. The CYANE is victorious there, and the +CONGRESS holds San Pedro. The political fabric is so slight that +its coming fall gives no sign. The veteran Commandante receives +an order to march, with every available man, to join General +Castro. He feels even his own domains are now in danger. He +communes long with the padre. He musters every vaquero for their +last campaign under the Mexican eagle.</p> +<p>Miguel Peralta growls with rage. He learns the English liner +COLLINGWOOD has arrived, a day or so too late—only another +enemy. Still, better temporary English rule than the long reign +of the grasping Yankee. The Don's self-interest, in alarm, is in +the logical right this time.</p> +<p>How shall he protect his property? What will he do with his +family? He knows that behind him the great Sierras wall the awful +depths of the Yosemite. The gloomy forests of the big trees +appall the stray traveller. The Utes are merciless in the day of +their advantage, and the American war vessels cut off all escape +by sea to Mexico. All the towns near the ocean are rendezvous of +defiant foreigners, now madly exultant. To the north is the enemy +he is going out to fight.</p> +<p>Padre Francisco advises him to leave the rancho in his charge. +He begs him to even let the young American prisoner remain.</p> +<p>Lagunitas may be seized, yet private property will be +respected. Young Valois may be a help to considerate treatment. +After council with his frightened spouse, Don Miguel rides off to +the rendezvous near Santa Clara. He curbs his passion from +prudence only, for he was on the point of making Valois a human +tassel for a live-oak limb.</p> +<p>The padre breaths freer.</p> +<p>Day after day elapses. Under a small body-guard both the padre +and Maxime ride the domain in freedom. Juanita Peralta shuts +herself up in the gloomy mansion, where she tells her beads in +the shadow of the coming defeats.</p> +<p>Rich and lovely Lagunitas is yet out of the theatre of action. +Its lonely inhabitants hear of the now rapid march of events, but +only defeated riders wander in with heavy tidings.</p> +<p>Fremont has whirled back once more and controls Suiter's Fort +and Sonoma. The ablest general of California is powerless. +Gallant Vallejo is now a prisoner. His scanty cannons and arms +are all taken. Castro's cavalry are broken up or captured. +Everywhere the foreigners gather for concerted action. It is a +partisan warfare.</p> +<p>Don Miguel's sullen bulletins tell of Castro's futile attempt +to get north of the bay. Since Cabrillo was foiled in landing at +Mendocino in 1543, the first royal flag floating over this "No +Man's Land" was Good Queen Bess's standard, set up in 1579 by +dashing Sir Francis Drake. He landed from the Golden Hind. In +1602 the Spanish ensign floated on December 10 at Monterey; in +1822 the third national ensign was unfurled, the beloved Mexican +eagle-bearing banner. It now flutters to its downfall.</p> +<p>Don Miguel warns the padre that the rude "bear flag" of the +revolted foreigners victoriously floats at Sonoma. It was raised +on July 4, 1846. Castro and Pio Pico are driven away from the +coast. They only hold the Santa Clara valley and the interior. +There is but one depot of arms in the country now; it is a hidden +store at San Juan. Far away in Illinois, a near relative of the +painter and hoister of the "bear flag" is a struggling lawyer. +Todd's obscure boyhood friend, Abraham Lincoln, is destined to be +the martyr ruler of the United States. A new star will shine in +the stars and stripes for California, in a bloody civil war, far +off yet in the mystic future.</p> +<p>In the narrow theatre where the decaying Latin system is +falling, under Anglo-Saxon self-assertion, the stern logic of +events teaches Don Miguel better lessons. His wild riders may as +well sheathe their useless swords as fight against fate.</p> +<p>The first blood is drawn at Petaluma. A declaration of +independence, rude in form, but grimly effective in scope, is +given out by the "bear flag" party. Fremont joins and commands +them. The Presidio batteries at San Francisco are spiked by +Fremont and daring Kit Carson, The cannon and arms of Castro are +soon taken. On July 7, Captain Mervine, with two hundred and +fifty blue-jackets, raises the flag of the United States at +Monterey. Its hills reecho twenty-one guns in salvo from Sloat's +squadron.</p> +<p>On the 8th, Montgomery throws the national starry emblem to +the breeze at the Golden Gates of San Francisco. The old +PORTSMOUTH'S heavy cannon roar their notes of triumph.</p> +<p>Valois remains lonely and inactive at Lagunitas. His priestly +friend warns him that he would be assassinated at any halting +place if he tried to join his friends. In fact, he conceals his +presence from any wayfaring, Yankee-hunting guerillas.</p> +<p>Don Miguel is bound by his military oath to keep the field. A +returning straggler brings the crushing news that the San Juan +military depot has been captured by a smart dash of the American +volunteers under Fremont and Gillespie. And San Diego has fallen +now. The bitter news of the Mexican War is heard from the Rio +Grande. A new sorrow!</p> +<p>Broken-hearted Don Miguel bravely clings to his flag. He +marches south with Castro and Pico, The long weeks wear along. +The arrival of General Kearney, and the occupation of San Diego +and Los Angeles, are the prelude to the last effort made for the +honor of the Mexican ensign. Months drag away. The early winter +finds Don Miguel still missing. Commodore Stockton, now in +command of the powerful fleet, reinforces Fremont and Gillespie. +The battles of San Gabriel and the Mesa teach the wild +Californians what bitter foes their invaders can be. The treaty +of Coenga at last ends the unequal strife. The stars and stripes +wave over the yet unmeasured boundaries of the golden West. The +Dons are in the conquerors' hands. After the fatal day of January +16, 1847, defeated and despairing of the future of his race, +war-worn Miguel Peralta, Commandante no longer, with a few +followers rides over the Tehachape. He descends the San Joaquin +to his imperilled domain.</p> +<p>With useless valor he has thrown himself into the fire of the +Americans at the battles near Los Angeles, but death will not +come to him. He must live to be one of the last Dons. The defeats +of Mexico sadden and embitter him. General Scott is fighting up +to the old palaces of the Montezumas with his ever victorious +army.</p> +<p>In these stormy winter days, when the sheeted rain drives down +from the pine-clad Sierras, Donna Juanita day by day turns her +passive face in mute inquiry to the padre. She has the sense of a +new burden to bear. Her narrow nature contracts yet a little with +a sense of wounded native pride.</p> +<p>In all her wedded years her martial lord has always returned +in victory. Fandango and feast, "baile" and rejoicings, have made +the woodland echoes ring.</p> +<p>The growing Dolores mopes in the lonely mansion. She demands +her absent father daily.</p> +<p>Before the troopers of Lagunitas return with their humbled +chieftain, a squad of mounted American volunteers ride up and +take possession. For the first time in its history the foreigner +is master here, Though personally unknown to these mixed +revolutionists, Maxime Valois is free to go in safety.</p> +<p>While he makes acquaintance with his fellow "patriots," the +advance riders of Don Miguel announce his home-coming. It is a +sad day when the Commandante dismounts at his own door. There is +a sentinel there. He lives to be only a sullen, brooding protest +in the face of an accidental progress.</p> +<p>Standing on his porch he can see the "mozos," under +requisition, gathering up his choicest horses by the fifties. +They are destined for the necessary remount of the victors.</p> +<p>After greeting his patient helpmeet, henceforth to be the +partner of his sorrows, he sends for the padre and his +major-domo. He takes on himself the only dignity left to his +defeated pride, practical self-isolation.</p> +<p>He bears in his bosom this rankling thorn—the hated +Fremont he rode out to bring in a captive, is now "His Excellency +John C. Fremont," the first American governor of California.</p> +<p>With his flocks and herds scattered, his cattle and horses +under heavy requisition, his cup is full. He moodily curses the +Gringo, and wishes that the rifle-ball which wounded him at San +Gabriel had reached the core of his proud old heart.</p> +<p>From all sides come fugitives with news of the Americanization +of the towns. The inland communities are reorganized. His only +friend is the Padre, to whose patient ear he confides the story +of the hopeless campaign. With prophetic pessimism he sees the +downfall of the native families.</p> +<p>Three months have made Larkin, Redding, Ide, Sutter, Semple, +Merritt, Bidwell, Leese, and Lassen the leading men of the day. +The victorious military and naval chiefs, Sloat, Stockton, +Montgomery, Fremont, Kearney, Halleck, and Gillespie are now men +of history. All the functions of government are in the hands of +American army or navy officers. The fall of the beloved Mexican +banner is as light and unmarked as the descent of the drifting +pine-needles torn from the swaying branches of the storm-swept +forest kings around him.</p> +<p>His settled gloom casts a shadow over Lagunitas. The padre has +lost his scholars. The converts of the dull Indian tribes have +fled to the hills, leaving the major-domo helpless. All is in +domestic anarchy. At last the volunteers are leaving.</p> +<p>When the detachment is ready to depart, Maxime Valois is +puzzled. The Mexican War raging, prevents his homeward voyage as +planned. It will be months before the war vessels will sail. If +allowed to embark on them, he will be left, after doubling Cape +Horn, a stranger in the north, penniless. Why not stay?</p> +<p>Yet the shelter of Lagunitas is his no more. The maddened Don +will not see an American on the bare lands left to him. His herds +and flocks are levied on to feed the troops.</p> +<p>Many an hour does the youth confer with Fran‡ois +Ribaut. The priest is dependent on his patron. The Church fabric +is swept away, for Church and state went down together. With only +one friend in the State, Valois must now quit his place of +enforced idleness.</p> +<p>The meagre news tells him the Fremont party is scattered. He +has no claims on the American Government. But Fremont has +blossomed into a governor. He will seek him. Happily, while +Maxime Valois deliberates, the question decides itself. He is +offered the hospitality of an escort back to Santa Clara, from +whence he can reach Monterey, San Francisco, or Los Angeles. In +the new State no present avenues are open to a castaway. His +education is practically useless. He is forced to consider the +question of existence. The utmost Padre Francisco can do is to +provide him horse and gear. A few Mexican dollars for the road +are not lacking. The lot of fate is drawn for him by necessity. +For the present he must be a Californian. He cannot leave until +the future provides the means.</p> +<p>When the vigil of the departure comes, the young man is loath +to leave his friend. In their companionship they have grown dear +to each other.</p> +<p>The camp of the volunteers is ready for the next day's march. +At their last dinner, the simple cheer of the native wine and a +few cigaritos is all the padre can display.</p> +<p>"Maxime, listen. You are young and talented," the padre +begins. "I see a great community growing up here, This is a land +of promise. The termination of the war ends all tumult. Your +fleet holds the coast. Mexico seems to be under the talons of +your eagle. Your nation is aggressive. It is of high mechanical +skill. Your people will pour into this land and build here a +great empire. Your busy Yankees will never be satisfied with the +skeleton wealth of a pastoral life. They will dig, hew, and +build. These bays and rivers will be studded with cities. Go, my +dear friend, to Yerba Buena. I will give you letters to the +fathers of the Mission Dolores. Heaven will direct you after you +arrive. You can communicate with me through them. I shall remain +here as long as my charge continues. If driven out, I shall trust +God to safely guide me to France. When I am worn out, I shall die +in peace under the shadows of Notre Dame."</p> +<p>At the hour of mass Maxime kneels to receive the blessing of +the Church.</p> +<p>The volunteers are in the saddle. It is the man, not the +priest, who embraces the freed "pathfinder." Valois' eyes are dim +with tears as he waves the adieu to the missionary. Not a word +does Don Miguel vouchsafe to the departing squad. The aversion of +the dwellers in Lagunitas is as great as their chief's.</p> +<p>Maxime joins the escort on the trail. Runaway sailors, +voyageurs, stray adventurers are they—queer flotsam on the +sea of human life. He learns from them the current stories of the +day. He can trace in the mysterious verbal "order to return," and +that never-produced "packet" given to Fremont by Gillespie, a +guiding influence from afar. The appearance of the strong fleet +and the hostilities of Captain Fremont are mysteriously +connected. Was it from Washington these wonders were worked? As +they march, unopposed, over the alamedas of San Joaquin, bearing +toward the Coast Range, they pass under overhanging Mount Diablo. +The Louisianian marvels at the sudden change of so many peaceful +explorers into conquering invaders. Valois suspects Senator +Benton of intrigues toward western conquest. He knows not that +somewhere, diplomatically lost between President Polk and +Secretaries Buchanan, Marcy, and Bancroft, is the true story of +this seizure of California. Gillespie's orders were far in +advance of any Mexican hostilities. The fleet and all the actions +of the State, War, and Navy departments prove that some one in +high place knew the Pacific Coast would be subdued and held.</p> +<p>Was it for slavery's added domains these glorious lands were +destined?</p> +<p>Maxime is only a pawn in that great game of which the +annexation of Texas, the Mexican War, and California conquest are +moves.</p> +<p>Wise, subtle, far-seeing, and not over-scrupulous, the leaders +of southern sentiment, with prophetic alarm, were seeking to +neutralize free-State extension in the Northwest. They wished to +link the warmer climes, newly acquired, to the Union by negro +chains. Joying in his freedom, eager to meet the newer phases of +Californian life under the stars and stripes, Valois rides along. +Restored in health, and with the light heart and high hopes of +twenty, he threads the beautiful mountain passes; for the first +time he sees the royal features of San Francisco Bay, locked by +the Golden Gates.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>BOOK II. — GOLD FOR ALL.—A NEW STAR IN THE +FLAG.</h2> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER V. — THE GOLDEN MAGNET.—FREE OR +SLAVE?</h2> +<p>Maxine Valois marvels not that the old navigators missed the +Golden Gate. It was easy to pass the land-locked bay, with its +arterial rivers, the Sacramento and San Joaquin. Fate hung a +foggy curtain on the outside bar. Greenest velvet sward now +carpets the Alameda hills. It is a balmy March day of 1847. The +proceeds of his horse and trappings give the youth less than a +hundred dollars—his whole fortune.</p> +<p>The Louisianian exile, with the world before him, is now a +picture of manly symmetry. Graceful, well-knit physique, dark +hair and eyes, and his soft, impassioned speech, betray the +Franco-American of the Gulf States. While gazing on the glories +of Tamalpais and the wooded mountains of Marin, he notes the +little mission under the Visitacion hills. It's a glorious scene. +All the world's navies can swing at ease in this superb bay. The +only banner floating here is the ensign at the peak of the +frigate Portsmouth. Interior wanderings give him a glimpse of the +vast areas controlled by this noble sheet of water. Young and +ardent, with a superior education, he may be a ruling spirit of +the new State now about to crystallize. His studies prove how +strangely the finger of Fortune points. It turned aside the prows +of Captain Cook, La Perouse, Vancouver, and the great Behring, as +well as the bold Drake, who tarried within a day's sail at his +New Albion. Frenchman, Englishman, and Russian have been tricked +by the fairy goddess of the mist. The Golden Gates in these later +days are locked by the Yankees from the inside.</p> +<p>Leaping from the boat, Valois tosses his scanty gear on the +strand. It is a deep, curving bay, in later years to be covered +with stately palaces of commerce, far out to where the Portsmouth +now lies.</p> +<p>A few huts make up the city of Yerba Buena. Reflecting on his +status, he dares not seek the alcalde, Lieut. Washington Bartlett +of the navy. From his escort he has heard of the many bickerings +which have involved Sloat, Stockton, Fremont, and Kearney.</p> +<p>Trusting to Padre Francisco's letters, he hires a horse of a +loitering half-breed. This native pilots him to the mission.</p> +<p>The priests receive him with open arms. They are glad for news +of their brother of the Sierras. Maxime installs himself as a +guest of the priests. Some current of life will bear him +onward—whither he knows not.</p> +<p>Idle days run into weeks. A motley five or six hundred whites +have gathered. The alcalde begins to fear that the town limits +are crowded.</p> +<p>None of the wise men of the epoch dare to dream that in less +than three years two hundred vessels will lie tossing, deserted +in the bay; that the cove will be filled with ships from the four +corners of the earth in five years.</p> +<p>Frowning hills and rolling sand dunes are to be thrown bodily +into the reentrant bay. They are future coverings for sunken +hulks. Where for twenty square miles coyote and fox now howl at +night, the covert oaks and brambles will be shaved off to give +way to a city, growing like a cloud-land vision.</p> +<p>Active and energetic, Valois coasts down to Monterey. He finds +Fremont gone, already on his way east. His soldier wrists are +bound with the red tape of arrest. The puppet of master minds +behind the scenes, Fremont has been a "pathfinder" for +others.</p> +<p>Riding moodily, chafing in arrest, at the rear of the overland +column, the explorer receives as much as Columbus, Pizarro, or +Maluspina did—only obloquy. It is the Nemesis of disgrace, +avenging the outraged and conquered Californians.</p> +<p>A dark shade of double dealing hangs around the glories of the +capture of California. The methods used are hardly justified, +even by the national blessings of extension to this ocean +threshold of Asian trade. The descent was planned at Washington +to extend the domineering slave empire of the aspiring South. The +secret is out. The way is clear for the surplus blacks of the +South to march in chains to the Pacific under the so-called "flag +of freedom."</p> +<p>Valois discovers at Monterey that no man of the staff of the +"Pathfinder" will be made an official pet, They are all +proscribed. The early fall finds him again under the spell of the +bells of the Mission Dolores. Whither to turn he knows not.</p> +<p>Averse to manual labor, like all Creoles, the lad decides to +seek a return passage on some trader. This will be hardly +possible for months. The Christmas chimes of 1848 sound sadly on +his ears.</p> +<p>With no home ties but his uncle, his memories of the parents, +lost in youth, fade away. He feels the bitterness of being a +stranger in a strange land. He is discouraged with an isolated +western empire producing nothing but hides and tallow. He shares +the general opinion that no agriculture can succeed in this +rainless summer land of California. Hardly a plough goes afield. +On the half-neglected ranchos the owners of thousands of cattle +have neither milk nor butter. Fruits and vegetables are +unattainable. The mission grapes, olives, and oranges have died +out by reason of fourteen years' neglect. The mechanic arts are +absent. What shall the harvest of this idle land be?</p> +<p>Valois knows the interior Indians will never bear the strain +of development. Lazy and ambitionless, they are incapable of +uniting their tribal forces. Alas for them! They merely cumber +the ground.</p> +<p>At the end of January, 1848, a wild commotion agitates the +hamlet of San Francisco. The cry is "Gold! Gold everywhere!" The +tidings are at first whispered, then the tale swells to a loud +clamor. In the stampede for the interior, Maxime Valois is borne +away. He seeks the Sacramento, the Feather, the Yuba, and the +American. He too must have gold.</p> +<p>A general hegira occurs. Incoming ships, little settlements, +and the ranches are all deserted, for a wondrous golden harvest +is being gleaned. The tidings go forth over the whole earth. Sail +and steam, trains of creaking wagons, troops of hardy horsemen, +are all bent Westward Ho! Desertion takes the troops and sailors +from camp and fleet pell-mell to the Sacramento valley. A shabby +excrescence of tent and hut swells Yerba Buena to a town. In a +few months it leaps into a city's rank. Over the prairies, toward +the sandy Humboldt, long emigrant trains are crawling toward the +golden canyons of the Sierras. The restless blood of the Mexican +War pours across the Gila deserts and the sandy wastes of the +Colorado.</p> +<p>The Creole boy learns that he, too, can work with pick, pan, +cradle, rocker, at the long tom, sluice, and in the tunnel drift. +The world is mad for gold. New York and New Orleans pour +shiploads of adventurers in by Panama and Nicaragua. Sailing +vessels from Europe, fleets around the Horn, vessels from Chile, +Mexico, Sandwich Islands, and Australia crowd each other at the +Golden Gates.</p> +<p>In San Francisco six months show ten thousand madmen. Tent, +hut, shanty, shed, even pretentious houses appear. Uncoined +nuggets, glittering gold dust in grains and powder, prove the +harvest is real.</p> +<p>The Indians and lazy Californians are crowded out of the +diggings. The superior minds among the priests and rancheros can +only explain the long ignorance of the gold deposits by the +absolute brutishness of the hill tribes. Their knowledge of +metals was absolutely nothing. Beyond flint-headed spears, their +bows and arrows, and a few mats, baskets, and skin robes, they +had no arts or useful handicraft. Starving in a land of plenty, +their tribal career never lifted itself a moment from the level +of the brute. And yet gold was the Spaniards' talisman.</p> +<p>The Mexican-descended rancheros should have looked for gold. +The traditions even indicated it. Their hold on the land was only +in the footprints of their horses and cattle.</p> +<p>Had the priests ever examined the interior, had a single +military expedition explored the State with care, the surface +gold deposits must have been stumbled on.</p> +<p>It remains an inexplicable fact, that, as early as 1841, gold +was found in the southern part of the State. In 1843, +seventy-five to one hundred ounces of dust were obtained from the +Indians, and sent to Boston via the Sandwich Island trading +ships. Keen old Sir Francis Drake's reports to good Queen Bess +flatly spoke of these yellow treasures. They, too, were ignored. +English apathy! Pouring in from the whole world, bursting in as a +flood of noisy adventurers on the stillness of the lazy land of +the Dons, came the gold hunters of California.</p> +<p>Already, in San Francisco, drinking booth, gambling shop, and +haunts of every villany spring up—the toadstools of a +night.</p> +<p>Women throng in to add the incantations of the daughters of +Sin to this mad hurly-burly. Handsome Mexicans, lithe Chilenas, +escaped female convicts, and women of Australia were reinforced +by the adventuresses of New Orleans, Paris, New York, and +Liverpool—a motley crowd of Paphian dames.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois, reaching Suiter's Fort by a launch, falls in +with a lank Missouri lad. His sole property in the world is a +rifle and his Pike county name of Joe Woods. A late arrival with +a party of Mexican war strays, his age and good humor cause the +Creole to take him as valuable, simply because one and one make +two. He is a good-humored raw lad. Together in the broiling sun, +half buried under bank or in the river-beds, they go through the +rough evolution of the placer miner's art.</p> +<p>The two thousand scattered foreigners of the State are ten +thousand before the year is out. Through the canyons, troops of +gold seekers now wander. Sacramento's lovely crystal waters, +where the silvery salmon leap, are tinged with typical yellow +colors, deepening every month. Tents give way to cabins; pack +trains of mules and horses wind slowly over the ridges. Little +towns dot the five or six river regions where the miners toil, +and only the defeated are idle.</p> +<p>From San Diego to Sonoma the temporary government is +paralyzed. It loses all control except the fulmination of useless +orders.</p> +<p>Local organization occurs by the pressure of numbers. Quaint +names and queer local institutions are born of necessity.</p> +<p>At San Francisco the tower of Babel is duplicated. Polyglot +crowds arrive in the craziest craft. Supplies of every character +pour in. Shops and smiths, workmen of all trades, appear. Already +an old steamboat wheezes on the Sacramento River. Bay Steamers +soon vex the untroubled waters of the harbor. They appear as if +by magic.</p> +<p>A fever by day, a revel by night, San Francisco is a +caravansera of all nations. The Argonauts bring with them their +pistols and Bibles, their whiskey and women, their morals and +murderers. Crime and intrigues quickly crop out. The ready knife, +and the compact code of Colonel Colt in six loaded chapters, are +applied to the settlement of all quarrels.</p> +<p>While Valois blisters his hands with the pick and shovel, a +matchless strain of good blood is also pouring westward. Young +and daring men, even professional scholars, cool merchants, able +artisans, and good women hopeful of a golden future, come with +men finally able to dragoon these varied masses into order.</p> +<p>Regular communications are established, presses set up, and +even churches appear. Post-office, banks, steamer and freight +lines spring up within the year of the reign of gold. Disease +raises its fevered head, and the physician appears by magic. The +human maelstrom settles into an ebb and flood tide to and from +the mines.</p> +<p>All over California keen-eyed men from the West and South +begin to appropriate land. The Eastern and Middle States pilgrims +take up trades and mechanical occupations. All classes contribute +recruits to the scattered thousands of miners. Greedy officials +and sly schemers begin to prey on the vanishing property rights +of the Dons. A strange, unsubstantial social fabric is hastily +reared. It clusters around the western peaks by the Golden +Gate.</p> +<p>Missouri, Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana are sending great +contingents. Mere nearness, with a taste for personal adventure, +causes the southern border element to brave the overland journey. +The northwestern overland travellers are more cautious. They have +longer roads to drag over. They come prepared for farming or +trade, as well as rude mining. As soon as the two lines of +Eastern steamers are established, the Eastern and Middle States +send heavy reinforcements. They are largely traders or permanent +settlers. From the first day, the ambitious, overbearing men of +the slave States take the lead in politics. They look to the +extension of their gloomy "institution," negro slavery.</p> +<p>Valois keeps much to himself. Resolutely he saves his golden +gleanings. He avoids the gambling tables and dance-houses. Joe +Woods works like a horse, from mere acquisitiveness. He fondly +looks back to a certain farm in Missouri, where he would fain +squire it when rich. Public rumor announces the great hegira of +gold seekers. The rush begins. Horse stealing, quarrels over +claims, personal encounters, rum's lunacy, and warring opinion +cause frequent bloody affrays.</p> +<p>Already scattered mounds rudely marked prove the reign of grim +King Death. His dark empire stretches even here unstayed, +unchallenged. Winter approaches; its floods drive the miners out +of the river beds. Joe Woods has aggregated several Pike County +souls, whose claims adjoin those of the two young associates. +Wishing to open communication with Judge Valois at Belle Etoile, +Maxime ceases work. He must recruit for hardships of the next +season. He leaves all in the hands of "partner Joe," who prefers +to camp with his friends, now the "Missouri Company." Valois is +welcome at the Mission Dolores. He can there safely deposit his +splendid savings.</p> +<p>Provided with ample funds of gold dust, in heavy buckskin +sacks, to send up winter supplies, Valois secures his half of the +profits. It is in rudely sealed tin cans of solid gold dust. He +is well armed and in good company. He gladly leaves the human +bee-hive by the terrific gorges of the American River. He has now +learned every trick of the mines. By pack train his treasure +moves down to Sacramento. Well mounted, Maxime is the companion +of a score of similarly fortunate returning miners. Name, +nationality, and previous history of these free lances of fortune +have been dropped, like Christian's bundle, on climbing these +hills. Every man can choose for himself a new life here, under +the spicy breezes of the Sierras. He is a law unto himself.</p> +<p>The young gold hunter sees, amazed, a cantonment of ten +thousand people at the bay. He safely conveys his treasure to the +priests at the mission. They are shaken from slumber of their +religious routine by eager Argonauts. Letters from Padre +Francisco at Lagunitas prove the formation of bands of predatory +Mexicans. These native Californians and Indian vagabonds are +driving away unguarded stock. They mount their fierce banditti on +the humbled Don's best horses. Coast and valley are now deserted +and ungoverned. The mad rush for gold has led the men +northward.</p> +<p>No one dreams as yet of the great Blue Cement lead, which, +from Sierra to Mariposa, is to unbosom three hundred millions +from the beds of the old, covered geologic rivers. Ten thousand +scratch in river bank and bed for surface gold. Priest and +layman, would-be scientist and embryo experts, ignore the yellow +threaded quartz veins buttressing the great Sierras. He would be +a madman now who would think that five hundred millions will be +pounded out of the rusty rocks of these California hills in less +than a score of years.</p> +<p>The toilers have no curiosity as to the origin or mother veins +of the precious metal sought.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois sits under the red-tiled porches of the mission +in January, 1849. He has despatched his first safe consignment of +letters to Belle Etoile. He little cares for the events which +have thrown the exhaustless metal belt of the great West into the +reserve assets of the United States. He knows not it is destined +within fifty years to be the richest land in the world. The dark +schemes of slavery's lord-like statesmen have swept these vast +areas into our map. The plotters have ignored the future colossal +returns of gold, silver, copper, and lead.</p> +<p>Not an American has yet caught the real value of the world's +most extensive forests of pine and redwood. They clothe these +western slopes with graceful, unmutilated pageantry of green.</p> +<p>Fisheries and fields which promise great gains are passed +unnoticed. It is a mere pushing out of boundary lines, under the +political aggression of the South.</p> +<p>Even Benton, cheering the departing thousands Westward, +grumbles in the Senate of the United States, on January 26, 1840. +As the official news of the gold discoveries is imparted, the +wise senators are blind in the sunlight of this prosperity. "I +regret that we have these mines in California," Benton says; "but +they are there, and I am in favor of getting rid of them as soon +as possible." Wise senator!</p> +<p>Neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet is he. He cannot +see that these slighted mines in the future will be the means of +sustaining our country's credit in a great war. This gold and +silver will insure the construction of the overland railroads. +The West and Northwest, sealed to the Union by bands of steel, +will be the mainstay of the land. They will equalize a broader, +grander Union than he ever dreamed of.</p> +<p>Benton little thinks he has found the real solution of the +wearying strife of North and South. Turning the surplus +population of these bitterly opposed sections to the unpeopled +West solves the problem. His son-in-law, Governor Fremont, has +been a future peacemaker as well as a bold pathfinder. For it is +on the track of Fremont that thousands are now tramping west. +Their wheels are bearing the household gods. Civilization to be +is on the move. Gold draws these crowds. The gulfs of the +Carribean, even the lonely straits of Magellan and the far +Pacific, are furrowed now by keels seeking the happy land where +plentiful gold awaits every daring adventurer. Martinet military +governors cannot control this embryo empire. Already in Congress +bills are introduced to admit California into the Union. A rising +golden star glitters in the West; it is soon to gild the flag of +the Union with a richer radiance.</p> +<p>Great leaders of the sovereign people struggle at Washington +in keen debate, inspired by the hostile sections of the Union. +They quarrel over the slavery interests in the great West. Keen +Tom Corwin, loyal Dix, astute Giddings, Douglass the little +giant, and David Wilmot fight freedom's battle with the great +apostle of State rights, Calhoun. He is supported by President +Polk, the facile Secretary of State Buchanan, and that dark +Mississippi man of destiny, Jefferson Davis. The fiery Foote and +all the ardent knights of the day champion the sunny South. +Godlike Daniel Webster pours forth for freedom some of his +greatest utterances. William H. Seward, prophet, seer, statesman, +and patriot, with noble inspirations cheers on freedom's army. +Who shall own bright California, the bond or the free? While +these great knights of our country's round table fight in the +tourney of the Senate over this golden prize, Benton sends back +the "pathfinder" Fremont. He is now freed from the army by an +indignant resignation. He bears a letter to Benton's friends in +the West to organize the civil community and prepare a +constitution.</p> +<p>While Valois watches for news, the buds and blossoms of early +spring call him back to the American River. The bay whitens with +the sails of arriving thousands. Political combinations begin +everywhere. Two years have made Fremont, Kearney, Colonel Mason, +General P. F. Smith, and General Bennett Riley temporary military +governors. Maxime leaves with ample stores; he rejoins the +"Missouri Company," already reaping the golden harvest of the +golden spring.</p> +<p>Sage counsel reaches him from Padre Francisco. He hears with +delight of the youth's success in the mines. The French +missionary, with a natural love of the soil, advises Valois to +buy lands as soon as good titles can be had.</p> +<p>The Mexican War ends in glory to the once despised Gringos. +Already the broad grants of the Dons are coveted by the officials +of the military regency. Several of the officers have already +served themselves better than their country. The entanglements of +a new rule amount to practical confiscation of the lands of the +old chieftains. What they saved from the conqueror is destined +later to fatten greedy lawyers.</p> +<p>The spoliated Church is avenged upon the heirs of those who +worked its temporal ruin. For here, while mad thousands delve for +the gold of their desire, the tramping feet of uncontrolled hosts +are heard at the gates of the Sierras. When the fleets give out +their hordes of male and female adventurers, there is no law but +that of force or duplicity; no principle but self-interest. +Virtue, worth, and desert meekly bow to strength. Wealth in its +rudest form of sacks of uncoined gold dust rules the hour.</p> +<p>The spring days lengthen into summer. Maxime Valois recoils +from the physical toil of the rocky bars of the American. His +nature is aristocratic; his youthful prejudices are averse to +hand work. Menial attendance, though only upon himself, is +degrading to him. The rough life of the mines becomes unbearable. +A Southerner, par excellence, in his hatred of the physical +familiarity of others, he avails himself of his good fortune to +find a purchaser for his interests. The stream of new arrivals is +a river now, for the old emigrant road of Platte and Humboldt is +delivering an unending human current. Past the eastern frontier +towns of Missouri, the serpentine trains drag steadily west; +their camp fires glitter from "St. Joe" to Fort Bridger; they +shine on the summit lakes of the Sierras, where Donner's party, +beset in deepest snows, died in starvation. They were a type of +the human sacrifices of the overland passage. Skeletons dot the +plains now.</p> +<p>By flood and desert, under the stroke of disease, by the +Indian tomahawk and arrow, with every varied accident and mishap, +grim Death has taken his ample toll along three thousand miles. +Sioux and Cheyenne, Ute and Blackfoot, wily Mormon, and every +lurking foe have preyed as human beasts on the caravans. These +human fiends emulate the prairie wolf and the terrific grizzly in +thirst for blood.</p> +<p>The gray sands of the burning Colorado desert are whitening +with the bones of many who escaped Comanche and Apache scalping +knives, only to die of fatigue.</p> +<p>By every avenue the crowd pours in. Valois has extended his +acquaintance with the leading miners. He is aware of the +political organization about to be effected. He has now about +forty thousand dollars as his share of gold dust. An offer of +thirty thousand more for his claim decides him to go to San +Francisco. He is fairly rich. With that fund he can, as soon as +titles settle, buy a broad rancho. His active mind suggests the +future values of the building lots in the growing city.</p> +<p>He completes the rude formalities of his sale, which consist +of signing a bill of sale of his mining claim, and receiving the +price roughly weighed out in gold. He hears that a convention is +soon to organize the State. On September 1, 1849, at Monterey, +the civil fabric of government will be planned out.</p> +<p>Before he leaves he is made a delegate. Early July, with its +tropical heat, is at hand. The camp on the American is agitated +by the necessity of some better form of government. Among others, +Philip Hardin of Mississippi, a lawyer once, a rich miner now, is +named as delegate.</p> +<p>At Sacramento a steamer is loaded to the gunwales with +departing voyagers. Maxime meets some of his fellow delegates +already named. Among them is Hardin of Mississippi. Philip Hardin +is a cool, resolute, hard-faced man of forty. A lawyer of +ability, he has forged into prominence by sheer superiority. The +young Creole is glad to meet some one who knows his beloved New +Orleans. As they glide past the willow-shaded river banks, the +two Southerners become confidential over their cigars.</p> +<p>Valois learns, with surprise, that President Polk sent the +polished Slidell confidentially to Mexico in 1846, and offered +several millions for a cession of California. He also wanted a +quit-claim to Texas. This juggling occurred before General Taylor +opened the campaign on the Rio Grande. In confidential relations +with Sidell, Hardin pushed over to California as soon as the +result of the war was evident. Ambitious and far-seeing, Philip +Hardin unfolds the cherished plan of extending slavery to the +West. It must rule below the line of the thirty-sixth parallel. +Hardin is an Aaron Burr in persuasiveness. By the time the new +friends reach San Francisco, Maxime has found his political +mentor. Ambition spurs him on.</p> +<p>Wonders burst upon their eyes. Streets, business houses and +hotels, dwellings and gaudy places of resort, are spread over the +rolling slopes. Valois has written his friends at the mission to +hold his letters. He hastens away to deposit his treasures and +gain news of the old home in the magnolia land.</p> +<p>Hardin has the promise of the young Louisianian to accompany +him to Monterey. A preliminary conference of the southern element +in the convention is arranged. They must give the embryo State a +pro-slavery constitution. He busies himself with gaining a +thorough knowledge of the already forming cabals. Power is to be +parcelled out, places are to be filled. The haughty Mississippian +cares more for this excitement than digging for mere inert +treasure. His quick eye catches California's splendid golden star +in the national constellation.</p> +<p>Valois finds he must wait the expected letters. He decides to +take no steps as to investment until the civil power is +stable.</p> +<p>With a good mustang he rides the peninsula thoroughly. He +visits the old Presidio on the outskirts of the growing city. He +rides far over the pass of Lake Merced, to where the broken gap +in the coast hills leaves a natural causeway for the railway of +the future.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin, fisher of men, is keeping open house near the +plaza. Already his rooms are the headquarters of the fiery +chivalry of the South. Day by day Valois admires the +self-assertion of the imperious lawyer. The Mississippian has +already plotted out the situation. He is concert with leaders +like himself, who are looking up and drawing in their forces for +the struggle at the convention.</p> +<p>Valois becomes familiar with the heads of the Northern +opposition. Able and sturdy chiefs are already marshalling the +men who come from the lands of the northern pine to meet in the +peaceful political arena the champions of the palmetto land. +Maxime's enthusiasm mounts. The young Southerner feels the pride +of his race burning in his veins.</p> +<p>In his evening hours, under the oaks of the Mission Dolores, +he bears to the calm priests his budget of port and town. He +tells of the new marvellous mines, of the influx of gold hunters. +He cannot withhold his astonishment that the priesthood should +not have discovered the gold deposits. The astute clergy inform +him calmly that for years their inner circles have known of +considerable gold in the possession of the Indians. It was a hope +of the Church that some fortunate turn of Mexican politics might +have restored their sway. Alas! It was shattered in 1834 by the +relentless Hijar.</p> +<p>"Hijo mio!" says an old padre. "We knew since 1838 that gold +was dug at Franscisquita canyon in the south. If we had the old +blessed days of Church rule, we could have quietly controlled +this great treasure field. But this is now the land of rapine and +adventure. First, the old pearl-fishers in the gulf of +California; then the pirates lurking along the coast, watching +the Philippine galleons. When your Americans overran Texas, and +commenced to pour over the plains here, we knew all was lost. +Your people have fought a needless war with Mexico; now they are +swarming in here—a godless race, followed by outcasts of +the whole of Europe. There is no law here but the knife and +pistol. Your hordes now arriving have but one god +alone—gold."</p> +<p>The saddened old padre sighs as he gathers his breviary and +beads, seeking his lonely cloister. He is a spectre of a day that +is done.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VI. — LIGHTING FREEDOM'S WESTERN LAMP.</h2> +<p>Bustling crowds confuse Valois when he rides through San +Francisco next day. One year's Yankee dominion shows a progress +greater than the two hundred and forty-six years of Spanish and +Mexican ownership. The period since Viscaino's sails glittered +off Point Reyes has been only stagnation.</p> +<p>Seventy-three years' droning along under mission rule has +ended in vain repetition of spiritual adjurations to the dullard +Indians. To-day hammer and saw, the shouts of command, the din of +trade, the ships of all nations, and the whistle, tell of the new +era of work. The steam engine is here. The age of faith is past. +"Laborare est orare" is the new motto. Adios, siesta! Enter, +speculation.</p> +<p>Dreamy-eyed senoritas in amazement watch the growing town. +Hundreds are throwing the drifted sand dunes into the shallow bay +to create level frontage. Swarthy riders growl a curse as they +see the lines of city lot fences stretching toward the Presidio, +mission, and potrero.</p> +<p>Inventive Americans live on hulks and flats, anchored over +water lots. The tide ebbs and flows, yet deep enough to drown the +proprietors on their own tracts, purchased at auction of the +alcalde as "water lots."</p> +<p>Water lots, indeed! Twenty years will see these water lots +half a mile inland.</p> +<p>Masonry palaces will find foundations far out beyond where the +old CYANE now lies. Her grinning ports hold Uncle Sam's hushed +thunder-bolts. It is the downfall of the old REGIME.</p> +<p>Shed, tent, house, barrack, hut, dug-out, ship's +cabin—everything which will cover a head from the salt +night fog is in service. The Mexican adobe house disappears. +Pretentious hotels and storehouses are quickly run up in wood. +The mails are taking orders to the East for completed houses to +come "around the Horn." Sheet-iron buildings are brought from +England. A cut stone granite bank arrives in blocks from far-off +China.</p> +<p>Vessels with flour from Chile, goods from Australia, and +supplies from New York and Boston bring machinery and tools. +Flour, saw, and grist mills are provided. Every luxury is already +on the way from Liverpool, Bordeaux, Havre, Hamburg, Genoa, and +Glasgow. These vessels bring swarms of natives of every clime. +They hasten to a land where all are on an equal footing of open +adventure, a land where gold is under every foot.</p> +<p>Without class, aristocracy, history, or social past, +California's "golden days" are of the future.</p> +<p>Strange that in thirty years' residence of the sly Muscovites +at Fort Ross, in the long, idle leisure of the employees of the +Hudson Bay station at Yerba Buena Cove from 1836 to 1846, even +with the astute Swiss Captain Sutter at New Helvetia, all +capacities of the fruitful land have been so strangely +ignored.</p> +<p>The slumber of two hundred and fifty years is over. Frenchman, +Russian, Englishman, what opiate's drowsy charms dulled your +eager eyes so long here? Thousands of miles of virgin lands, +countless millions of treasures, royal forests and hills yet to +grow under harvest of olive and vine—all this the mole-like +eyes of the olden days have never seen.</p> +<p>Even the Mormons acted with the supine ignorance of the +foreigners. They scorned to pick this jewel up. Judicious Brigham +Young from the Great Salt Lake finally sends emissaries to spy +and report. Like the wind his swift messengers go east to divert +strong battalions of the Mormon converts from Europe, under +trusted leaders, to San Francisco. Can he extend his self-built +empire to the Pacific Slope? Brigham may be a new Mahomet, a +newer Napoleon, for he has the genius of both.</p> +<p>Alas! when the Mormon bands arrive, Sam Brannard, their +leader, abandons the new creed of "Mormon" for the newer creed of +"Mammon." He becomes a mercantile giant. The disciples scatter as +gold-seekers. California is lost to the Mormons. Even so! Fate, +providence, destiny, or some cold evolution of necessary order, +draws up the blue curtains of the West. It pins them to our +country's flag with a new, glittering star, "California."</p> +<p>With eager interest Valois joins Philip Hardin. There is a +social fever in the air. His friends are all statesmen in this +chrysalis of territorial development. They are old hands at +political intrigue. They would modestly be senators, governors, +and rulers. They would cheerfully serve a grateful State.</p> +<p>A band of sturdy cavaliers, they ride out, down the bay +shores. They cross the Santa Clara and Salinas valleys toward +Monterey.</p> +<p>Valois' easy means enable him to be a leader of the movement. +It is to give a constitution and laws to the embryo State.</p> +<p>Hardy men from the West and South are taking up lands. Cool +traders are buying great tracts. Temporary officials have eager +eyes fixed on the Mexican grants. At all the landings and along +the new roads, once trails, little settlements are springing up, +for your unlucky argonaut turns to the nearest avocation; inns, +stables, lodging-houses and trading-tents are waited on by men of +every calling and profession. Each wanderer turns to the easiest +way of amassing wealth. The settlers must devise all their own +institutions. The Mexicans idly wrap their serapes around them, +and they avoid all contact with the hated foreigner. Beyond +watching their flocks and herds, they take no part in the +energetic development. Cigarito in mouth, card playing or +watching the sports of the mounted cavaliers are their +occupations. Dismounted in future years, these queer equestrian +natures have never learned to fight the battle of life on foot. +The law of absorption has taken their sad, swarthy visages out of +the social arena.</p> +<p>The cavalcade of Southerners sweeps over the alamedas. They +dash across the Salinas and up to wooded Monterey. There the +first constitutional convention assembles.</p> +<p>Their delighted eyes have rested on the lovely Santa Cruz +mountains, the glorious meadows of Santa Clara, and the great +sapphire bay of Monterey. The rich Pajaro and Salinas valleys lie +waiting at hand. Thinking also of the wondrous wealth of the +Sacramento and San Joaquin, of the tropical glories of Los +Angeles, Philip Hardin cries: "Gentlemen, this splendid land is +for us! We must rule this new State! We must be true to the +South!"</p> +<p>To be in weal and woe "true to the South" is close to the +heart of every cavalier in Philip Hardin's train.</p> +<p>The train arrives at Monterey, swelled by others faithful to +that Southern Cross yet to glitter on dark fields of future +battle.</p> +<p>The treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo closed a bloody Conflict on +February 2, 1848. It is the preamble to a long struggle. It is +destined in the West to be bloodless until the fatal guns trained +on Fort Sumter bellow out their challenge to the great Civil War. +It is only then the mighty pine will swing with a crash against +the palm.</p> +<p>Hardin knows that recruits, true of blood, are hastening to +the new land of El Dorado. As he leads his dauntless followers +into Monterey his soul is high. He sees the beloved South +sweeping in victory westward as proudly as her legions rolled +over the fields of Monterey and Buena Vista.</p> +<p>The convention assembles. All classes are represented on +September 1, 1849. The first legal civil body is convoked west of +the Rockies. Men of thought are here. Men destined to be +world-famous in the unknown future. Settlers, hidalgos, traders, +argonauts, government officials of army and navy, and transient +adventurers of no mean ability. A little press already works with +its magical talking types. A navy chaplain is the Franklin of the +West. Some order and decorum appear. The calm voice of prayer is +heard. The mingled amens of the conquerors thank God for a most +unjustifiable acquisition of the lands of others. They are ours +only by the right of the strong against the weak—the +world's oldest title.</p> +<p>The South leads in representative men. Ready to second the +secret desires of Polk, Buchanan, and Calhoun is the astute and +courtly Gwin, yet to be senator, duke of Sonora, and Nestor of +his clan. Moore of Florida, Jones of Louisiana, Botts, Burnett, +and others are in line. On the Northern side are Shannon, an +adopted citizen; wise Halleck; polished McDougall; gifted Edward +Gilbert, and other distinguished men—men worthy of the day +and hour.</p> +<p>As independent members, Sutter, General Vallejo, Thomas O. +Larkin, Dr. Semple, Wright, Hastings, Brown, McCarver, Rodman S. +Price, Snyder, and others lend their aid. From the first day the +advocates of slavery and freedom battle in oratorical storm. The +forensic conflict rages for days; first on the matter of freedom, +finally on that of boundary.</p> +<p>Freedom's hosts receive a glorious reinforcement in the +arrival of John C. Fremont.</p> +<p>After bitter struggles the convention casts the die for +freedom. The Constitution of the State is so adopted. While the +publicists, led by Fremont and Gwin, seek to raise the fabric of +state, the traders and adventurers, the hosts of miners springing +to life under the chance touch of James W. Marshall's finger, on +January 24, 1848, are delving or trading for gold.</p> +<p>Poor, ill-starred Marshall! He wanders luckless among the +golden fields. He gains no wealth. He toils as yet, unthinking of +his days of old age and lonely poverty. He does not look forward +to being poor at seventy-three years, and dying in 1885 alone. +The bronze monument over his later grave attests no fruition of +his hopes. It only can show the warm-hearted gratitude of +children yet unborn, the Native Sons of the Golden West. Cool old +borderers like Peter Lassen, John Bidwell, P. B. Redding, Jacob +P. Leese, Wm. B. Ide, Captain Richardson, and others are grasping +broad lands as fair as the banks of Yarrow. They permit the +ill-assorted delegates to lay down rules for the present and laws +for the future. The State can take care of itself. +Property-holders appear and aid. Hensley, Henley, Bartlett, and +others are cool and able. While the Dons are solemnly +complimented in the convention, their rights are gracefully +ignored.</p> +<p>The military governor, General Bennett Riley, stands back. He +justly does not throw his sword into the scales. Around him are +rising men yet to be heroes on a grander field of action than the +mud floors of a Monterey adobe. William T. Sherman, the only +Northern American strategist, is a lieutenant of artillery. +Halleck, destined to be commander-in-chief of a million men, is +only a captain of engineers and acting Secretary of State. +Graceful, unfortunate, accomplished Charles P. Stone is a staff +officer. Ball's Bluff and Fort Lafayette are far in the misty +unknown.</p> +<p>The convention adjourns SINE DIE in October 13, 1849. It has +settled the great point of freedom on the Pacific Coast. It +throws out the granite Sierras as an eternal bulwark against +advancing slavery. The black shame is doomed never to cross the +Rockies, and yet the great struggle for the born nobility of +manhood has been led by Shannon, an alien Irishman. The proudest +American blood followed Dr. Gwin's pro-slavery leading. The two +senators named are Gwin and the hitherto unrewarded Fremont. +Wright and Gilbert are the two congressmen. Honest Peter H. +Burnett, on November 13, is elected the first governor of +California. He is chosen by the people, and destined to live to +see nearly fifty years of peaceful prosperity on the golden +coast.</p> +<p>While this struggle is being waged on the Pacific, at +Washington the giant statesmen of those famous ante-bellum days +close in bitter strife. The political future of the great West, +now known to be so rich, is undecided. It is the desperate desire +of the South to keep California out of the Union, unless the part +falling under the Wilmot proviso act south of 36 deg 30 min is +given to slavery.</p> +<p>The national funds to pay for the "Gadsden purchase" will be +withheld unless slavery can be extended. The great struggle +brings out all the olden heroes of the political arena. Benton, +Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Davis, King, Sam Houston, Foote, Seward, +John Bell, and Douglas, are given a golden prize to tourney for. +In that press of good knights, many a hard blow is struck. The +victor and vanquished stand to-day, looming gigantic on the dim +horizon of the past. It is the dark before the dawn of the War of +the Rebellion.</p> +<p>It was before these days of degenerated citizenship, when the +rising tide of gold floats the corrupt millionnaire and +syndicate's agent into the Senate. The senator's toga then +wrapped the shoulders of our greatest men. No bonanza +agents—huge moral deformities of heaped-up gold—were +made senatorial hunchbacks by their accidental millions.</p> +<p>No vulgar clowns dallied with the country's interests in those +old days when Greek met Greek. It was a gigantic duel of six +leaders: Webster, Seward, and Clay, pitted against Calhoun, +Davis, and Foote. Pausing to refresh their strength for the final +struggle, the noise of battle rolled away until the early days of +1850. California was kept out.</p> +<p>The delegates at Monterey hastened home to their exciting +callings. Philip Hardin saw the wished-for victory of the South +deferred. Gnashing his teeth in rage, he rode out of Monterey. +Maxime Valois now is the ardent "Faust" to whom he plays +"Mephisto." His following had fallen away. Hardin, cold, +profound, and deep, was misunderstood at the Convention. He +wished to gain local control. He knew the overmastering power of +the pro-slavery administration would handle the main issue +later—if not in peace, then in war.</p> +<p>As the red-tiled roofs of Monterey fade behind them, Hardin +unbosoms himself to his young comrade. Maxime Valois has been a +notable leader in the Convention. He was eager and loyal to the +South. He extended many acquaintances with the proud chivalry +element of the new State. His short experience of public life +feeds his rising ambition. He determines to follow the law; the +glorious profession which he laid aside to become a pathfinder; +the pathway to every civic honor.</p> +<p>"Valois," says Hardin, "these people are too short-sighted. +Our Convention leaders are failures. We should have ignored the +slavery fight as yet. Thousands of Southern voters are coming to +us within six months from the border States. Our friends from the +Gulf are swarming here. The President will fill all the Federal +offices with sound Southern Democrats. The army and navy will be +in sympathy with us. With a little management we could have got +slavery as far as 36 deg 30 sec. We could work it all over the +West with the power of our party at the North. We could have +controlled the rest of this coast by the Federal patronage, +keeping the free part out of the Union as territories. Then our +balance of power would be stable. It is not a lost game. Wait! +only wait!"</p> +<p>Maxime agrees. Philip Hardin opens the young politician's eyes +with a great confidence.</p> +<p>"Maxime, I have learned to like you and depend on you. I will +give you a proof of it. We of the old school are determined to +rule this country. If Congress admits California as a free State, +there will yet be a Lone Star republic covering this whole coast. +The South will take it by force when we go out."</p> +<p>The Louisianian exclaims, "Secession!"</p> +<p>"Yes, war even. Rather war than the rule of the Northern +mud-sill!" cries Hardin, spurring his horse, instinctively. "Our +leading men at home are in thorough concert day by day. If the +issue is forced on us the whole South will surely go out. But we +are not ready yet. Maxime, we want our share of this great West. +We will fill it with at least even numbers of Southern men. In +the next few years the West will be entirely neutral in case of +war or unless we get a fair division. If we re-elect a Democrat +as President we will save the whole West."</p> +<p>"War," muses Valois, as they canter down the rich slopes +toward the Salinas River, "a war between the men who have pressed +up Cerro Gordo and Chepultepec together! A war between the +descendants of the victorious brothers of the Revolution!" It +seems cold and brutal to the young and ardent Louisianian. An +American civil war! The very idea seems unnatural. "But will the +Yankees fight?" queries Valois. Hardin replies grimly: "I did not +think we would even be opposed in this Convention. They seemed to +fight us pretty well here. They may fight in the field—when +it comes."</p> +<p>For Philip Hardin is a wise man. He never under-estimates his +untried enemy.</p> +<p>Valois smiles. He cannot control a sneer. The men who are +lumber-hewers, dirt-diggers, cod-fishers and factory operatives +will never face the Southern chivalry. He despises the sneaking +Yankees. Traders in a small way arouse all the arrogance of the +planter. He cannot bring any philosophy of the past to tell him +that the straining, leaky Mayflower was the pioneer of the +stately American fleets now swarming on every sea. The little +wandering Boston bark, Otter, in 1796 found her way to +California. She was the harbinger of a mighty future marine +control. The lumbering old Sachem (of the same Yankee borough) in +1822 founded the Pacific hide and tallow trade as an earnest of +the sea control. Where one Yankee shows the way thousands may +follow, yet this Valois ignored in his scorn of the man who +works.</p> +<p>Maxime could not dream that the day could ever come when +thousands of Yankees would swarm over entrenchments, vainly held +by the best blood of the sunny South.</p> +<p>As the two gentlemen ride on, Hardin uses the confidential +loneliness of the trip to prove to the Creole that war and +separation must finally come.</p> +<p>"We want this rich land for ourselves and the South." The +young man's blood was up.</p> +<p>"I know the very place I want!" cries Valois.</p> +<p>He tells Hardin of Lagunitas, of its fertile lands sweeping to +the San Joaquin. He speaks of its grassy, rolling hills and +virgin woods.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin learns of the dashing waters of the Merced and +Mariposa on either side. He hears of the glittering gem-like +Lagunitas sparkling in the bosom of the foot-hills. Valois +recounts the wild legends, caught up from priest and Indian, of +that great, terrific gorge, the Yosemite. Hardin allows much for +the young man's wild fancy. The gigantic groves of the big trees +are only vaguely described. Yet he is thrilled.</p> +<p>He has already seen an emigrant who wandered past Mono Lake +over the great Mono notch in the Sierras. There it rises eleven +thousand feet above the blue Pacific—with Castle Dome and +Cathedral Peak, grim sentinels towering to the zenith.</p> +<p>"It must really be a paradise," muses Hardin.</p> +<p>"It is," cries the Creole; "I intend to watch that region. If +money can make it mine, I will toil to get it."</p> +<p>Philip Hardin, looking through half-closed eyes at Valois, +decides to follow closely this dashing adventurer. He will go +far.</p> +<p>"Valois," he slowly says, "you have seen these native +land-barons at the Convention. A few came in to join us. The rest +are hostile and bitter. They can never stand before us. The whole +truth is, the Mexican must go! We stopped the war a little too +soon here. They are now protected by the treaty, but we will +litigate them out of all their grants. Keep your eye on +Lagunitas. It may come into the market. Gold will be the fool's +beacon here for some time. These great valleys will yet be the +real wealth of the new State. Land is the rock of the wealth to +come. Get land, my boy!" he cries, with the lordly planter's +instinct.</p> +<p>Valois admires the cold self-confidence of the sardonic +Hardin. He opens his heart. He leans upon the resolute +Mississippian.</p> +<p>It takes little to make Maxime joyfully accept Philip Hardin's +invitation to share his office. They will follow the fortunes of +the city by the Golden Gates.</p> +<p>On riding down the Visitacion valley their eyes are greeted +with the sight of the first ocean steamers. A thousand new-comers +throng the streets.</p> +<p>Maxime finds a home in the abode of Hardin. His cottage stands +on a commanding lot, bought some time before.</p> +<p>Letters from "Belle Etoile" delight the wanderer. He learns of +the well-being of his friends. Judge Valois' advice to Maxime +decides him to cast his lot in with the new State. It is soon to +be called California by legal admission.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin is a leader of the embryo bar of the city. +Courts, books, two newspapers and the elements of a mercantile +community are the newest signs of a rapid crystallization toward +order. With magic strides the boundaries of San Francisco +enlarge. Every day sees white-winged sails fluttering. Higher +rises the human tumult. From the interior mines, excited reports +carry away half the arrivals. They are eager to scoop up the +nuggets, to gather the golden dust. New signs attract the eye: +"Bank," "Hotel," "Merchandise," "Real Estate." Every craft and +trade is represented. It is the vision of a night.</p> +<p>Already a leader, Hardin daily extends his influence as man, +politician, and counsellor.</p> +<p>The great game is being played at the nation's capital for the +last sanction to the baptism of the new star in the flag.</p> +<p>California stands knocking at the gates of the Union, with +treasure-laden hands. In Congress the final struggle on admission +drags wearily on. Victorious Sam Houston of Texas, seconded by +Jefferson Davis, fresh laurelled from Buena Vista, urges the +claims of slavery. Foote "modestly" demands half of California, +with a new slave State cut out from the heart of blood-bought +Texas. But the silver voice of Henry Clay peals out against any +extension of slave territory. Proud King of Alabama appeals in +vain to his brethren of the Senate to discipline the two +ambitious freemen of the West, by keeping them out of the +Union.</p> +<p>Great men rally to the bugle notes of their mighty +leaders.</p> +<p>The gallant son of the South, General Taylor, finds +presidential honors following his victories. In formal message he +announces on February 13, 1850, to Congress that the new State +waits, with every detail of first organization, for +admission.</p> +<p>Stern Calhoun, chief of the aspiring Southerners, proudly +claims a readjustment of the sectional equality thus menaced. Who +shall dare to lift the gauntlet thrown down by South Carolina's +mighty chieftain?</p> +<p>In the hush of a listening Senate, Daniel Webster, the lion of +the North, sounds a noble defiance. "Slavery is excluded from +California by the law of nature itself," is his warning +admonition.</p> +<p>With solemn brow, and deep-set eyes, flashing with the light +of genius, he appeals to the noblest impulses of the human heart. +Breathless senators thrill with his inspired words. "We would not +take pains to reaffirm an ordinance of nature," he cries, and, as +his grave argument touches the listeners, he reverently adds, +"nor to re-enact the will of God."</p> +<p>Mighty Seward rises also to throw great New York's gauntlet in +the teeth of slavery.</p> +<p>Taunted with its legal constitutional sanction, he exclaims +grandly, "There is a higher law than the Constitution."</p> +<p>Long years have passed since both the colossus of the North +and the great Governor entered into the unbroken silence of the +grave. Their immortal words ring still down the columned years of +our country's history. They appeal to noble sons to emulate the +heroes of this great conflict. Shall the slave's chains clank +westward? No! Above the din of commoner men, the logic of John +Bell, calm and patriotic, brings conviction. The soaring +eloquence of Stephen A. Douglas claims the Western shores for +freedom.</p> +<p>Haughty Foote and steadfast Benton break lances in the +arena.</p> +<p>Kentucky's greatest chieftain, whose gallant son's life-blood +reddened Buena Vista's field, marshals the immortal defenders of +human liberty. Henry Clay's paternal hand is stretched forth in +blessing over the young Pacific commonwealth. All vainly do the +knights of the Southern Cross rally around mighty Calhoun, as he +sits high on slavery's awful throne.</p> +<p>Cold Davis, fiery Foote, ingenious Slidell, polished and +versatile Soule, ardent King, fail to withstand that mighty trio, +"Webster, Seward, and Clay," the immortal three. The death of the +soldier-President Taylor calms the clamor for a time. The +struggle shifts to the House. Patriotic Vinton, of Ohio, locks +the door on slavery. On the 9th day of September, 1850, President +Millard Fillmore signs the bill which limits the negro hunter to +his cotton fields and cane brakes at home. The representatives of +the new State are admitted. A new golden star shines unpolluted +in the national constellation.</p> +<p>Westward the good news flies by steamer. All the shadows on +California's future are lifted.</p> +<p>While wearied statesmen rest from the bitter warfare of two +long years, from North and South thousands eagerly rush to the +golden land.</p> +<p>The Southern and Border States send hosts of their restless +youths.</p> +<p>From the Northwest sturdy freemen, farmers with families, toil +toward new homes under freedom's newest star. The East and Middle +States are represented by all their useful classes.</p> +<p>The news of California's admission finds Hardin and Valois +already men of mark in the Occidental city.</p> +<p>Disappointed at the issue, Hardin presses on to personal +eminence; he turns his energies to seeking honors in the legal +forum.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois, quietly resuming his studies for the bar, +guards his funds, awaiting opportunity for investment. He burns +the midnight oil in deep studies. The two men wander over the +growing avenues of the Babel of the West. Every allurement of +luxury, every scheme of vice, all the arts of painted siren, glib +knave, and lurking sharper are here; where the game is, there the +hunter follows. Rapidly arriving steamers pour in hundreds. The +camp followers of the Mexican war have streamed over to San +Francisco. The notable arrival of the steamer California brings +crowds of men, heirs to future fame, and good women, the moral +salt of the new city. It also has its New York "Bowery Boys," +Philadelphia "Plug Uglies," Baltimore "Roughs," and Albany +"Strikers."</p> +<p>By day, new occupations, strange callings, and the labor of +organizing a business community, engage all men. The ebb and flow +of going and returning miners excite the daylight hours. From +long wharves, river steamers, laden to the gunwales, steam past +the city shores to Sacramento. At night, deprived of regular +homes, the whole city wanders in the streets, or crowds flashy +places of amusement. Cramped on the hilly peninsula, there are no +social lines drawn between good and bad. Each human being is at +sea in a maelstrom of wild license.</p> +<p>The delegated representatives of the Federal Government soon +arrive. Power is given largely to the Southern element. While +many of the national officials are distinguished and able, they +soon feel the inspiring madness of unrebuked personal +enjoyment.</p> +<p>Money in rough-made octagonal fifty-dollar slugs flows freely. +Every counter has its gold-dust scales. Dust is current by the +ounce, half ounce, and quarter ounce. The varied coins of the +whole world pass here freely. The months roll away to see, at the +end of 1850, a wider activity; there is even a greater +excitement, a more pronounced madness of dissipation. +Speculation, enterprise, and abandonment of old creeds, scruples, +and codes, mark the hour.</p> +<p>The flying year has brought the ablest and most daring moral +refugees of the world to these shores, as well as steady +reinforcements of worthy settlers. Pouring over the Sierras, and +dragging across the deserts, the home builders are spreading in +the interior. The now regulated business circles, extending with +wonderful elasticity, attract home and foreign pilgrims of +character. Though the Aspasias of Paris, New Orleans, and +Australia throng in; though New York sends its worthless +womanhood in floods, there are even now worthy home circles by +the Golden Gate. Church, school, and family begin to build upon +solid foundations. All the government bureaus are in working +order. The Custom House is already known as the "Virginia Poor +House." The Post-Office and all Federal places teem with the +ardent, haughty, and able ultra Democrats of the sunny South. The +victory of the Convention bids fair to be effaced in the +high-handed control of the State by Southern men. As the rain +falleth on the just and unjust, so does the tide of prosperity +enrich both good and bad. Vice, quickly nourished, flaunts its +early flowers. The slower growth of virtue is yet to give golden +harvest of gathered sheaves in thousands of homes yet to be in +the Golden State. Long after the maddened wantons and noisy +adventurers have gone the way of all "light flesh and corrupt +blood," the homes will stand. Sailing vessels stream in from the +ports of the world. On the narrow water-front, Greek and Lascar, +Chinaman and Maltese, Italian and Swede, Russian and Spaniard, +Chileno and Portuguese jostle the men of the East, South, and the +old country. Fiery French, steady German, and hot-headed Irish +are all here, members of the new empire by the golden baptism of +the time.</p> +<p>Knife and revolver, billy and slung-shot, dirk and poniard, +decide the ARGUMENTUM AD HOMINEM.</p> +<p>In the enjoyment of fraternal relations with the leaders of +the dominant party East, Philip Hardin becomes a trusted +counsellor of the leading officials. He sees the forum of justice +opened in the name of Union and State. He ministers at the altars +of the Law. He gains, daily, renown and riches in his able +conduct of affairs.</p> +<p>Hardin's revenue rises. He despises one of the State +judgeships easily at his hand. As his star mounts, his young +neophyte, Maxime Valois, shares his toils and enjoys his +training. Under his guidance he launches out on the sea of that +professional legal activity, which is one continued storm of +contention.</p> +<p>Valois has trusted none of the mushroom banks. He keeps his +gold with the Padres. He makes a number of judicious purchases of +blocks and lots in the city, now growing into stable brick, +stone, and even iron.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VII. — THE QUEEN OF THE EL DORADO.—GUILTY +BONDS.</h2> +<p>In the dreary winter of 1850-51, there are luxurious resting +places for the crowds driven at night from the narrow plank +sidewalks of the Bay City. Rain torrents make the great saloons +and gambling houses the only available shelter.</p> +<p>Running east and west, Sacramento, Clay, Washington, and +Jackson Streets rise in almost impracticable declivity to the +hills. Their tops, now inaccessible, are to be the future eyries +of self-crowned railroad nobs and rude bonanza barons.</p> +<p>Scrubby chaparral, tenanted by the coyote, fox, and sand +rabbit, covers these fringing sand hills. North and south, +Sansome, Montgomery, Kearney, Dupont, Stockton, and a faint +outline of Powell Street, are roadways more or less inchoate. An +embryo western Paris.</p> +<p>Around the plaza, bounded by Clay, Washington, Dupont, and +Kearney, the revelry of night crystallizes. It is the aggregating +sympathy of birds of a feather.</p> +<p>The peculiar unconquered topography makes the handcart, +wheelbarrow, and even the Chinaman's carrying poles, necessary +vehicles of transit.</p> +<p>Water, brought in iron boats from Sausalito, is dragged around +these knobby hills in huge casks on wheels. The precious fluid is +distributed in five-gallon tin buckets, borne on a yoke by the +dealer, who gets a dollar for two bucketfuls. No one finds time +to dig for water. All have leisure to drink, dance, and gamble. +They face every disease, danger, and hardship. They breast the +grizzly-bear-haunted canyons in search of gold. No one will seek +for water. It is the only luxury. The incoming and outgoing +merchandise moves only a few rods from the narrow level city +front. At the long wharves it is transshipped from the deep-water +vessels, across forty feet of crazy wooden pier, to the river +steamers. Lighters in the stream transfer goods to the smaller +vessels beginning to trade up and down the coast.</p> +<p>In the plaza, now dignified by the RAFFINE name of "Portsmouth +Square," the red banners of vice wave triumphant over great +citadels of sin. Virtue is pushed to the distant heights and +knolls. The arriving families, for sheer self-protection, avoid +this devil's maelstrom. It sucks the wide crowd into the maddened +nightly orgies of the plaza.</p> +<p>In the most pretentious buildings of the town, the great +trinity of unlawful pleasures holds high carnival. Day and night +are the same: drink, gaming, and women are worshipped. For the +average resident there is no barrier of old which has not been +burned away in the fever of personal freedom and the flood of +gold.</p> +<p>A motley mass of twenty thousand men and women daily augments. +They are all of full capacity for good and evil. They are bound +by no common ties. They serve no god but pleasure. They fear no +code. With no intention to remain longer than the profit of their +adventures or the pleasures of their wild life last, they catch +the passing moment.</p> +<p>Immense saloons are made attractive by displays of gaudy +luxuries, set out to tempt the purses of the self-made autocrats +of wealth. Gambling houses here are outvying in richness, and +utter wantonness of wasted expense, anything yet seen in America. +They are open always. Haunts abound where, in the pretended +seclusion of a few yards' distance, rich adventurers riot with +the beautiful battalions of the fallen angels. It were gross +profanation to the baleful memories of Phryne, Aspasia, and +Messalina to find, from all the sin-stained leaves of the world's +past, prototypes of these bold, reckless man-eaters. They throng +the softly carpeted, richly tapestried interiors of the gilded +hells of Venus.</p> +<p>Drink and play. Twins steeds of the devil's car on the road to +ruin. They are lashed on by wild-eyed, bright, beautiful demons. +All follow the train of the modern reigning star of the West, +Venus.</p> +<p>Shabby dance-halls, ephemeral Thespian efforts, cheap dens of +the most brutal vice, and dark lairs abound, where sailors, +laborers, and crowding criminals lurk, ready for their human +prey. Their female accomplices are only the sirens watching these +great strongholds of brazen vice. A greater luxury only gilds a +lower form of human abasement. The motley horde, wallowing on the +"Barbary Coast" and in the mongrel thieves' haunts of "Pacific +Street," the entrenched human devils on "Telegraph Hill" are but +natural prey of the coarsest vices.</p> +<p>The ready revolver, Colt's devilish invention, has deluged the +West and South with blood. Murder's prime minister hangs in every +man's belt. Colonel James Bowie's awful knife is a twin of this +monstrous birth. In long years of dark national shame our country +will curse the memory of the "two Colonels." They were typical of +their different sectional ideas. These men gave us the present +coat of arms of San Francisco: the Colt's revolver and the Bowie +knife.</p> +<p>Yes, thousands of yet untenanted graves yawn for the future +victims of these mechanical devices. The skill of the Northern +inventor, and the devilish perfection of the heart-cleaving blade +of the Southern duellist are a shame to this wild age.</p> +<p>The plaza with impartial liberality yields up its frontages to +saloon, palace of play, and hotels for the fair ministers of His +Satanic Majesty. It is the pride of the enterprising "sports" and +"sharpers," who represent the baccalaureate degree of every known +vice. On the west, the "Adelphi" towers, with its grand gambling +saloon, its splendid "salle a manger," and cosey nooks presided +over by attractive Frenchwomen. Long tables, under crystal +chandeliers, offer a choice of roads to ruin. Monte, faro, rouge +et noir, roulette, rondo and every gambling device are here, to +lure the unwary. Dark-eyed subtle attendants lurk, ready to +"preserve order," in gambling parlance. At night, blazing with +lights, the superb erotic pictures on the walls look down on a +mad crowd of desperate gamesters. Paris has sent its most +suggestive pictures here, to inflame the wildest of human +passions. Nymph and satyr gleam from glittering walls; Venus +approves with melting glances, from costliest frames, the +self-immolation of these dupes of fortune. Every wanton grace of +the artist throws a luxurious refinement of the ideal over the +palace of sin and shame.</p> +<p>Long counters, with splendid mirrors, display richest plate. +They groan with costliest glass, and every dark beverage from +hell's hottest brew. Card tables, and quiet recesses, richly +curtained, invite to self-surrender and seclusion. The softest +music breathes from a full orchestra. Gold is everywhere, in +slugs, doubloons, and heaps of nuggets. Gold reigns here. Silver +is a meaner metal hardly attainable. Bank notes are a flimsy +possibility of the future. Piles of yellow sovereigns and the +coinage of every land load the tables. Sallow, glittering-eyed +croupiers sweep in, with affected nonchalance, this easy-gained +harvest of chance or fraud.</p> +<p>As the evening wears on, these halls fill up with young and +old. The bright face of youth is seen, inflamed with every +burning passion, let loose in the wild uncontrolled West. It is +side by side with the haggard visage of the veteran gamester. +Every race has its representatives. The possession of gold is the +cachet of good-fellowship. Anxious crowds criticise rapid and +dashing play. The rattle of dice, calls of the dealers, shouts of +the attendants ring out. The sharp, hard, ringing voices of the +fallen goddesses of the tables rise on the stifling air, reeking +of smoke and wine. Dressed with the spoils of the East, bare of +bosom, bright of eye, hard of heart, glittering in flashing gems, +and nerved with drink, are these women. The painted sirens of the +Adelphi smile, with curled carmine lips which give the lie to the +bold glances of the wary eyes of those she-devils.</p> +<p>With a hideous past thrown far behind them, they fear no +future. Desperate as to the present, ministering to sin, inciting +to violence, conspiring to destroy body and soul, these beautiful +annihilators of all decency vie in deviltry only with each +other.</p> +<p>They flaunt, by day, toilettes like duchesses' over the muddy +streets; their midnight revels outlast the stars sweeping to the +pure bosom of the Pacific. The nightly net is drawn till no +casting brings new gudgeons. An unparalleled display of wildest +license and maddest abandonment marks day and night.</p> +<p>Across the square the Bella Union boasts similar glories, +equal grandeur, and its own local divinities of the Lampsacene +goddess.</p> +<p>It is but a stone's throw to the great Arcade. From Clay to +Commercial Street, one grand room offers every allurement to +hundreds, without any sign of overcrowding. The devil is not in +narrow quarters.</p> +<p>On the eastern front of the plaza, the pride of San Francisco +towers up: the El Dorado. Here every glory of the Adelphi, +Arcade, and Bella Union is eclipsed. The unrivalled splendor of +rooms, rich decorations, and unexcelled beauty of pictures excite +all. The rare liveliness of the attendant wantons marks them as +the fairest daughters of Beelzebub. The world waves have stranded +these children of Venus on the Pacific shores. Music, recalling +the genius of the inspired masters, sways the varying emotions of +the multitude. The miners' evenings are given up to roaming from +one resort to another. Here, a certain varnish of necessary +politeness restrains the throng of men; they are all armed and in +the flush of physical power; they dash their thousands against +impregnable and exciting gambling combinations at the tables. +With no feeling of self-abasement, leading officials, merchants, +bankers, judges, officers, and professional men crowd the royal +El Dorado. Here they relax the labors of the day with every +distraction known to human dissipation.</p> +<p>Staggering out broken-hearted, in the dark midnight, dozens of +ruined gamesters have wandered from these fatal doors into the +plaza. The nearest alley gives a shelter; a pistol ball crashes +into the half-crazed brain.</p> +<p>Suicide!—the gambler's end! Already the Potter's Field +claims many of these victims. The successful murderers and thugs +linger in the dark shadows of Dupont Street. They crowd +Murderer's Alley, Dunbar's Alley, and Kearney Street.</p> +<p>When the purse is emptied, so that the calculating women +dealers scorn to notice the last few coins, they point +significantly to the outer darkness. "Vamos," is the word. A few +rods will bring the plucked fool to the "Blue Wing," the +"Magnolia," or any one of a hundred drinking dens. Here the +bottle chases away all memories of the night's play.</p> +<p>In utter defiance of the decent community, these temples of +pleasure, with their quick-witted knaves, and garrisons of +bright-eyed bacchanals, ignore the useful day; at night, they +shine out, splendid lighthouses on the path to the dark entrance +of hell. By mutual avoidance, the good and bad, the bright and +dark side of human effort rule in alternation the day and night. +Sin rests in the daytime.</p> +<p>In the barracks, where the serried battalions of crime loll +away the garish day, silence discreetly rules. Sleep and rest +mark the sunlit hours. The late afternoon parade is an +excitant.</p> +<p>All over San Francisco, in its queerly assorted tenancy, +church and saloon, school and opium den, thieves' resort and +budding home, are placed side by side. Vigorous elbowing of the +criminal and base classes finally forces all that is decent into +a semi-banishment. Decency is driven to the distant hills, +crowned with their scrubby oaks. Vice needs the city centre. It +always does.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin is cynical and without family ties. Able by +nature, skilled in books, and a master of human strategy he needs +some broader field for the sweep of his splendid talents than the +narrowed forum of the local courts. Ambition offers no immediate +prize to struggle for. The busy present calls on him for daily +professional effort. Political events point to an exciting +struggle between North and South in the future; but the hour of +fate is not yet on the dial.</p> +<p>In the Southerner's dislike of the contact of others, looking +to his place as a social leader of the political element, Philip +Hardin lives alone; his temporary cottage is planted in a large +lot removed from the immediate danger of fires. His quick wit +tells him they will some day sweep the crowded houses in the +eastern part of the city, as far as the bay. The larger native +oaks still afford a genial shade. Their shadows give the tired +lawyer a few square rods of breathing space. Books and all the +implements of the scholar are his; the interior is crowded with +those luxuries which Hardin enjoys as of right. Deeply drinking +the cup of life, even in his social vices, Philip Hardin aims at +a certain distinction.</p> +<p>Around his table gather the choicest knights-errant of the +golden quest. Maxime Valois here develops a social talent as a +leader of men, guided by the sardonic Mephisto of his young +life.</p> +<p>Still the evening hours hang heavily on the hands of the two +lawyers. When the rapidly arriving steamers bring friends, with +letters or introductions, they have hospitality to dispense. The +great leaders of the South are now systematically colonizing +California. Guests abound at these times at Hardin's board. +Travel, mining, exploration, and adventure carry them away soon; +extensive tours on official duty draw them away. As occupations +increase, men grow unmindful of each other and meet more +rarely.</p> +<p>For the saloons, rude hotels, gaming palaces, and resorts of +covert pleasures are the usual rendezvous of the men of fortune +and power. In such resorts grave intrigues are planned; future +policies are mapped out; business goes on under the laughter of +wild-eyed Maenads; secrets of state are whispered between glass +and glass.</p> +<p>Family circles, cooped up, timid and distant, keep their doors +closed to the general public. No one has yet dared to permanently +set up here their Lares and Penates. The subordination of family +life to externals, and insincerity of social compacts, are +destined to make California a mere abiding place for several +generations. The fibres of ancestry must first knit the living +into close communion with their parents born on these Western +shores. Hardin's domineering nature, craving excitement and +control over others, carries him often to the great halls of +play; cigar in mouth, he stands unmoved; he watches the chances +of play. Nerved with the cognac he loves, he moves quickly to the +table; he astonishes all by the deliberate daring of his play. +His iron nerve is unshaken by the allurements of the painted +dancers and surrounding villains. Towering high above all others, +the gifted Mississippian nightly refreshes his jaded emotions. He +revels in the varying fortunes of the many games he coolly +enjoys. Unheeding others, moving neither right nor left at menace +or danger, Hardin scorns this human circus, struggling far below +his own mental height.</p> +<p>Heartless and unmoved, he smiles at the weaknesses of others. +The strong man led captive in Beauty's train, the bright +intellect sinking under the craze of drink, the weak nature +shattered by the loss of a few thousands at play—all this +pleases him. He sees, with prophetic eye, hundreds of thousands +of future dwellers between the Sierras and the sea. His Southern +pride looks forward to a control of the great West by the haughty +slave-owners.</p> +<p>This Northern trash must disappear! To ride on the top wave of +the future successful community, is his settled determination. +Without self-surrender, he enjoys every draught of pleasure the +cup of life can offer. Without scruple, void of enthusiasm, his +passionless heart is unmoved by the joys or sorrows of others. +His nature is as steady as the nerve with which he guides his +evening pistol practice. The welcome given to Maxime Valois by +him arises only from a conviction of that man's future +usefulness. The general acceptability of the young Louisianian is +undoubted. His blood, creed, and manners prove him worthy of the +old Valois family. Their past glories are well known to Philip +Hardin. "Bon sang ne peut mentir." Hardin's legal position places +him high in the turmoils of the litigations of the great Mexican +grants. Already, over the Sonoma, Napa, Santa Clara, San Joaquin +and Sacramento valleys all is in jeopardy. The old Dons begin to +seek confirmations of the legal lines, to keep the crowding +settlers at bay. The mining, trading, and land-grabbing of the +Americans are pushed to the limits of the new commonwealth. A +backward movement of the poor Mexican natives carries them +between the Americans and the yet powerful land barons of their +own race. Harassed, unfit to work, unable to cope with the +intruders, the native Californians become homeless rovers. They +are bitter at heart. Many, in open resentment, rise on the plains +or haunt the lonely trails. They are now bandits, horse-thieves, +footpads and murderers. True to each other, they establish a +chain of secret refuges from Shasta to San Diego. Every marauder +of their own blood is safe among them from American pursuers.</p> +<p>Every mining camp and all the settlements are beginning to +send refugees of the male foreign criminal classes to join these +wandering Mexican bands.</p> +<p>With riot in the camps, licentiousness ruling the cities, and +murder besetting every path, there is no safety for the present. +California sees no guarantee for the future. Judge Lynch is the +only recognized authority. He represents the rough justice of +outraged camps and infuriated citizens. Unrepressed violent +crimes lead to the retaliatory butchery of vigilance committees. +Innocent and guilty suffer without warrant of law. Foreign +criminal clans herd together in San Francisco for mutual aid. The +different Atlantic cities are separately represented in knots of +powerful villains. Politics, gambling, and the elements of wealth +flourishing in dens and resorts, are controlled by organized +villains. They band together against the good. Only some personal +brawl throws them against each other.</p> +<p>Looking at the dangerous mass of vicious men and women, Valois +determines that the real strength of the land will lie in the +arrivals by the overland caravans. These trains are now filling +the valleys with resolute and honest settlers.</p> +<p>His determination holds yet to acquire some large tract of +land where he may have a future domain. On professional visits to +Sacramento, Stockton, and San Jose he notes the rising of the +agricultural power in the interior. In thought he yearns often +for the beauties of splendid Lagunitas. Padre Ribaut writes him +of the sullen retirement of Don Miguel. He grows more morose +daily. Valois learns of the failing of the sorrow-subdued Donna +Juanita. The girlish beauty of young Dolores is pictured in these +letters. She approaches the early development of her rare beauty. +Padre Francisco has his daily occupation in his church and +school. The higher education of pretty Dolores is his only +luxury. Were it not for this, he would abandon the barren +spiritual field and return to France. Already in the canyons of +the Mariposa, Fresno, and in the great foot-hills, miners are +scratching around the river beds. Hostile settlers are +approaching from the valley the Don's boundaries. These signs are +ominous.</p> +<p>Padre Francisco writes that as yet Don Miguel is sullenly +ferocious. He absolutely refuses any submission of his grant +titles to the cursed Gringos. Padre Francisco has not been able +to convince the ex-commandante of the power of the great United +States. He knows not it can cancel or reject his title to the +thousands of rich acres where his cattle graze and his horses +sweep in mustang wildness. Even from his very boundaries the +plough can now be seen breaking up the breast of the virgin +valley. The Don will take no heed. He is blinded by prejudice. +Maxime promises the good priest to visit him. He wonders if the +savage Don would decline a word. If the frightened, faded wife +would deign to speak to the Americano. If the budding beauty +would now cast roses slyly at him from the bowers of her +childhood.</p> +<p>Maxime's heart is young and warm. He is chilled in his +affections. The loss of his parents made his life lonely. Judge +Valois, his uncle, has but one child, a boy born since Maxime's +departure on the Western adventure. Between Hardin and himself is +a bar of twenty years of cool experience. It indurates and blunts +any gracefulness Hardin's youth ever possessed. If any man of +forty has gained knowledge of good and evil, it is the +accomplished Hardin. He is a law unto himself.</p> +<p>Fearing neither God nor man, insensible to tenderness, Philip +Hardin looks in vain to refresh his jaded emotions by the +every-day diversions of the city by the sea. The daily brawls, +the excited vigilance committee of the first winter session of +popular justice, and partial burning of the city, leave Hardin +unmoved. It is a dismal March night of 1851 when he leaves his +residence for a stroll through the resorts of the town. Valois +listlessly accompanies him. He does not gamble. To the El Dorado +the two slowly saunter. The nightly battle over the heaps of gold +is at its height. At the superb marble counter they are served +with the choicest beverages and regalias of Vuelta Abajos' best +leaf. The human mob is dense. Wailing, passionate music beats +upon the air. There is the cry of lost souls in its under-toned +pathos. Villany and sentiment go hand in hand at the El Dorado. +The songs of old, in voice and symphony, unlock the gates of +memory. They leave the lingerers, disarmed, to the tempting +allurements of beauty, drink, and gaming.</p> +<p>There is an unusual crowd in the headquarters of gilded folly. +Maxime, wandering alone for a few minutes, finds a throng around +a table of rouge et noir. It is crowded with eager gamesters. +Nodding to one and another, he meets many acquaintances—men +have no real friends as yet in this egoistic land. The +Louisianian moves toward the goal whither all are tending. +Jealous glances are cast by women whose deserted tables show +their charms are too well known. All swarm toward a new centre of +attraction. Cheeks long unused to the blush of shame are reddened +with passion, to see the fickle crowd surge around the game +presided over by a new-comer to the sandy shores of San +Francisco. She is an unknown goddess.</p> +<p>"What's all this?" asks Maxime, of a man he knows. He is +idling now, with an amused smile. He catches a glimpse of the +tall form of Philip Hardin in the front row of players, near the +yellow bulwarks of gold.</p> +<p>"Why, Valois, you are behind the times!" is the reply. "Don't +you know the 'Queen of the El Dorado'?"</p> +<p>"I confess I do not," says the Creole. He has been absent for +some time from this resort of men with more gold than brains. +"Who is she? What is she?" continues Maxime.</p> +<p>His friend laughs as he gaily replies, "As to what she is, +walk up to the table. Throw away an ounce, and look at her. It's +worth it. As to who she is, she calls herself Hortense Duval." "I +suppose she has as much right to call herself the daughter of the +moon as to use that aristocratic name." "My dear boy, she is, for +all that—" "Queen Hortense?" "Queen of the El Dorado." He +saunters away, to allow Valois a chance to edge his way into the +front row. There the dropping gold is raked in by this fresh +siren who draws all men to her.</p> +<p>Dressed in robes of price, a young woman sits twirling the +arrow of destiny at the treasure-laden table. Her exquisite form +is audaciously and recklessly exposed by a daring costume. Her +superb arms are bared to the shoulder, save where heavy-gemmed +bracelets clasp glittering badges of sin around her slender +wrists. An indescribable grace and charm is in every movement of +her sinuous body. Her well-poised head is set upon a neck of +ivory. The lustrous dark eyes rove around the circle of eager +betters with languishing velvety glances. A smile, half a sneer, +lingers on the curved lips. Her statuesque beauty of feature is +enhanced by the rippling dark masses of hair crowning her lovely +brows. In the silky waves of her coronal, shines one diamond star +of surpassing richness. In all the pride and freshness of youth +her loveliness is unmarred by the tawdry arts of cosmetic and +make-up. Unabashed by the admiration she compels, she calmly +pursues her exciting calling. The new-comer is well worthy the +rank, by general acclaim, of "Queen of the El Dorado." In no way +does she notice the eager crowd. She is an impartial priestess of +fortune. Maxime waits only to hear her speak. She is silent, save +the monosyllabic French words of the game. Is she Cuban, Creole, +French, Andalusian, Italian, or a wandering gypsy star? A +jewelled dagger-sheath in her corsage speaks of Spain or Italy. +Maxime notes the unaccustomed eagerness with which Hardin +recklessly plays. He seems determined to attract the especial +attention of the divinity of the hour. Hardin's color is unusual. +His features are sternly set. Near him stands "French Charlie," +one of the deadliest gamesters of the plaza. Equally quick with +card, knife, or trigger, the Creole gambler is a man to be +avoided. He is as dangerous as the crouching panther in its +fearful leap.</p> +<p>Hardin, betting on black, seems to win steadily. "French +Charlie" sets his store of ready gold on the red. It is a +reckless duel of the two men through the medium of the golden +arrow, twirled by the voluptuous stranger.</p> +<p>A sudden idea strikes Valois. He notes the ominous sparkle of +"French Charlie's" eye. It is cold as the depths of a +mountain-pool. Is Hardin betting on the black to compliment the +presiding dark beauty? Murmurs arise among the bystanders. The +play grows higher. Valois moves away from the surging crowd, to +wait his own opportunity. A glass of wine with a friend enables +him to learn her history. She has been pursued by "French +Charlie" since her arrival from Panama by steamer. No one knows +if the reigning beauty is Havanese or a French Creole. Several +aver she speaks French and Spanish with equal ease. English +receives a dainty foreign accent from the rosebud lips. Her +mysterious identity is guarded by the delighted proprietors. The +riches of their deep-jawed safes tell of her wonderful luck, +address, or skill.</p> +<p>Charlie has in vain tried to cross the invisible barrier which +fences her from the men around her. To-night he is as unlucky in +his heavy play, as in arousing any passion in that wonderful +beauty of unexplained identity. The management will answer no +questions. This nightly excitement feeds on itself. "French +Charlie" has been drinking deeply. His play grows more unlucky. +Valois moves to the table, to quietly induce Hardin to leave. +Some inner foreboding tells Valois there is danger in the +gambling duel of the two men he watches. As he forces his way in, +Charlie, dashing a last handful of gold upon the red, turns his +ferocious eyes on Hardin. The lawyer calmly waits the turn of the +arrow. Some quick presentiment reaches the mind of the woman. Her +nerves are shaken with the strain of long repression. The arrow +trembles on the line in stopping. The queen's eyes, for the first +time, catch the burning glances of Philip Hardin. "French +Charlie," with an oath, grasps the hand of the woman. She is +raking in his lost coins before paying Hardin's bet. It is his +last handful of gold.</p> +<p>Maddened with drink and his losses, Charlie yields to jealousy +of his victorious neighbor. "French Charlie" roughly twists the +wrist of the woman. With a sharp shriek, she snatches the dagger +from her bosom. She draws it over the back of the gambler's hand. +He howls with pain. Like a flash he tears a knife from his bosom. +He springs around the table toward the woman. With a loud scream, +she jumps back toward the wall. She seeks to save herself, +casting golden showers on the floor, in a rattling avalanche. +Before the ready hireling desperadoes of the haunt can seize +Charlie, the affrighted circle scatters. Valois' eye catches, the +flash of a silver-mounted derringer. Its barking report rings out +as "French Charlie's" right arm drops to his side. His +bowie-knife falls ringing on the floor. A despairing curse is +heard. The Creole gambler snatches, with the other hand, a +pistol. He springs like a lion on Philip Hardin. One step back +Hardin retreats. No word comes from his closed lips. The mate of +the derringer rings out loudly Charlie's death warrant. The +gambler crashes to the floor. His heart's blood floods the +scattered gold. The pistol is yet clenched in his stiffened left +hand. Valois rushes to Hardin. He brushes him aside, and springs +to the side of the "Queen of the El Dorado." She falls senseless +in his arms. In a few moments the motley crowd has been hurried +from the doors. The great entrances are barred. The frightened +women dealers seek their dressing-rooms. All fear the results of +this brawl. Their cheeks are ashy pale under paint and powder. +The treasures are swiftly swept from the gaming tables by the +nimble-witted croupiers. Hardin and Valois are left with the +unconscious fallen beauty. A couple of the lately organized city +police enter and take charge. Even the blood stained gold is +gathered from the floor. Light after light is turned out. The +main hall has at last no tenants but the night watchman and the +police, waiting by the dead gambler. He lies prone on the floor, +awaiting his last judge, the city coroner. This genial official +is sought from his cards and cups, to certify the causes of death +of the outcast of society. A self-demonstrating problem. The +gaping wound tells its story.</p> +<p>Valois is speechless and stunned with the quickness of the +deadly quarrel. He gloomily watches Hardin supporting the +fainting woman. Slowly her eyes unclose. They meet Hardin's in +one long, steadfast, inscrutable glance. She shudders and says, +"Take me away." She covers her siren face with her jewelled +hands, to avoid the sight of the waxy features and stiffening +form of the thing lying there. Ten minutes ago it was the +embodiment of wildest human passion and tiger-like activity. +Vale, "French Charlie."</p> +<p>Hardin has quickly sent for several influential friends. On +their arrival he is permitted to leave, escorted by a policeman. +The shaken sorceress, whose fatal beauty has thrown two +determined men against each other in a sudden duel to the death, +walks at his side. There is a bond of blood sealed between them. +It is the mere sensation of a night; the talk of an idle day. On +the next evening the "El Dorado" is thronged with a great +multitude. It is eager to gaze on the wondrous woman's face, for +which "French Charlie" died. Their quest is vain. Another +daughter of the Paphian divinity presides at the shrine of rouge +et noir. The blood-stains are effaced from the floor. A fresh red +mound in the city cemetery is the only relic of French Charlie. +Philip Hardin, released upon heavy bail, awaits a farcical +investigation. After a few days he bears no legal burden of this +crime. Only the easy load upon his conscience. Although the mark +of Cain sets up a barrier between him and his fellows, and the +murder calls for the vengeance of God, Philip Hardin goes his way +with unclouded brow. His eyes have a strange new light in +them.</p> +<p>The "Queen of the El Dorado" sits no more at the wheel of +fortune. Day succeeds to day. Nightly expectation is balked. Her +absent charms are magnified in description. The memory of the +graceful, dazzling Hortense Duval fades from the men who struggle +around the gaming boards of the great "El Dorado." She never +shows her charming face again in the hall.</p> +<p>The secret of the disappearance of this mysterious sovereign +of chance is known to but few. It is merely surmised by others. +To Maxime Valois the bloody occurrence has borne fruits of +importance. As soon as some business is arranged, the shadowy +barrier of this tragedy divides the two men. Though slight, it is +yet such that Valois decides to go to Stockton. The San Joaquin +valley offers him a field. Land matters give ample scope to his +talents. The investment in lands can be better arranged from +there. The Creole is glad to cast his lot in the new community. +By sympathy, many Southerners crowd in. They gain control of the +beautiful prairies from which the herds of elk and antelope are +disappearing.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin's safety is assured. With no open breach of +friendship between them, Maxime still feels estranged. He visits +the scene of his future residence. His belongings follow him. It +was an intuition following a tacit understanding. Man +instinctively shuns the murderer.</p> +<p>Maxime never asked of the future of the vanished queen of the +El Dorado. In his visits to San Francisco he finds that few cross +Philip Hardin's threshold socially. Even these are never bid to +come again. Is there a hidden queen in the house on the hill? +Rumor says so.</p> +<p>Rising in power, Philip Hardin steadily moves forward. He asks +no favors. He seeks no friends. All unmindful is he of the tattle +that a veiled lady of elegant appearance sometimes walks under +the leafy bowers shading his lovely home.</p> +<p>The excitable populace find new food for gossip. There are +more residences than one in San Francisco, where dreamy luxury is +hidden within the unromantic wooden boxes called residences.</p> +<p>Fair faces gleam out furtively from these casements. At open +doors, across whose thresholds no woman of position ever sets a +foot, wealth stands on guard. Silence seals the portals. The +vassals of gold wait in velvet slippers. The laws of possession +are enforced by the dangers of any trespass on these Western +harems.</p> +<p>While the queen city of the West rises rapidly it is only a +modern Babylon on the hills of the bay. The influx augments all +classes. Every element of present and future usefulness slowly +makes headway against the current of mere adventure. Natural +obstacles yield to patient, honest industry. California begins in +grains, fruits, and all the rich returns of nature, to show that +Ceres, Flora, and Pomona are a trinity of witching good fairies. +They beckon to the world to wander hither, and rest under these +blue-vaulted balmy skies. Near the splendid streams, picturesque +ridges, and lovely valleys of the new State, health and happiness +may be found, even peace.</p> +<p>The State capital is located, drawn by the golden magnet, at +Sacramento. The only conquest left for the dominating Americans, +is the development of this rich landed domain. Here, where the +Padres dreamed over their monkish breviaries, where the nomad +native Californians lived only on the carcasses of their wild +herds, the richest plains on earth invite the honest hand of the +farmer.</p> +<p>The era of frantic dissipation, wildest license, insane +speculation, and temporary abiding wears away. Bower and blossom, +bird and bee, begin to adorn the new homes of the Pacific.</p> +<p>Mighty-hearted men, keen of vision, strong of purpose, appear. +The face of nature is made to change under the resolute attacks +of inventive man. Roads and bridges, wharves and storehouses, +telegraph lines, steamer routes, express and stage systems, banks +and post-offices, courts, churches, marts and halls, all come as +if at magic call. The school-master is abroad. Public offices and +records are in working order. Though the fierce hill Indians now +and then attack the miners, they are driven back toward the great +citadel of the Sacramento River. The huge mountain ranges on the +Oregon border are their last fastnesses.</p> +<p>In every community of the growing State, the law is aided by +quickly executed decrees of vigilance committees. Self-appointed +popular leaders, crafty politicians, scheming preachers, aspiring +editors, and ambitious demagogues crop up. They are the mushroom +growth of the muck-heap of the new civilization.</p> +<p>Hardin gathers up with friendships the rising men of all the +counties. At the newly formed clubs of the city his regular +entertainments are a nucleus of a socio-political organization to +advance the ambitious lawyer and the cause of the South.</p> +<p>Men say he looks to the Senate, or the Supreme Bench. Maxime +Valois, rising in power at Stockton, retains the warmest +confidence of Hardin. He knows the crafty advocate is the +arch-priest of Secession. Month by month, he is knitting up the +web of his dark intrigues. He would unite the daring sons of the +South in one great secret organization, ready to strike when the +hour of destiny is at hand. It comes nearer, day by day. Here, in +this secret cause of the South, Valois' heart and soul go out to +Hardin. He feels the South was juggled out of California. Both he +and his Mephisto are gazing greedily on the wonderful development +of the coast. Even adjoining Arizona and New Mexico begin to fill +up. The conspirators know the South is handicapped in the +irrepressible conflict unless some diversion is made in the West. +They must secure for the states of the Southern Republic their +aliquot share of the varied treasures of the West. The rich spoil +of an unholy war.</p> +<p>Far-seeing and wise is the pupil of Calhoun and Slidell. He is +the coadjutor of the subtle Gwin. Hardin feeds the flame of +Maxime Valois' ardor. The business friendship of the men +continues unabated. They need each other. With rare delicacy, +Valois never refers to the blood-bought "beauty of the El +Dorado." Her graceful form never throws its shadow over the +threshold of the luxurious home of the lawyer. On rare visits to +the residence of his friend, Valois' quick eye notes the evidence +of a reigning divinity. A piano and a guitar, a scarf here, a few +womanly treasures there, are indications of a "manage a deux." +They prove to Maxime that the Egeria of this intellectual king +lingers near her victim. He is still under her mystic spell. +Breasting the tide of litigation in the United States and State +courts, popular and ardent, the Louisianian thrives. He rises +into independent manhood. He is toasted in Sacramento, where in +legislative halls his fiery eloquence distinguishes him. He is +the king of the San Joaquin valley.</p> +<p>Preserving his friendship with the clergy, still warmly allied +to Padre Francisco, Maxime Valois gradually gains an unquestioned +leadership. His friends at New Orleans are proud of this young +pilgrim from "Belle Etoile." Judge Valois hopes that the coming +man will return to Louisiana in search of some bright daughter of +that sunny land, a goddess to share the honors of the younger +branch of the old Valois family. Rosy dreams!</p> +<p>Maxima, satisfied, yet not happy, sees a great commonwealth +grow up around him. Looking under the tides of the political +struggles, he can feel the undertow of the future. It seems to +drag him back to the old Southern land of his birth, "Home to +Dixie."</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII. — JOAQUIN, THE MOUNTAIN ROBBER.—THE +DON'S PERIL.</h2> +<p>The leaders of the San Joaquin meet at the office of +Counsellor Maxime Valois. He is the rising political chief. While +multitudes yet delve for gold, Valois wisely heads those who see +that the miners are merely nomadic. They are all adventurers. The +great men of the coast will be those who control its broad lands, +and create ways of communication. The men who develop +manufactures, start commercial enterprises, and the farmers, will +develop resources of this virgin State. The thousand vocations of +civilization are building up a solid fabric for future +generations.</p> +<p>True, the poet, the story-writer, and the careless stranger +will be fascinated by the heroes of camp and glen. High-booted, +red-shirted, revolver-carrying, bearded argonauts are they, +braving all hardships, enjoying sudden wealth, and leading +romantic lives. Stories of camp and cabin, with brief +Monte-Cristo appearances at San Francisco, are the popular rage. +These rough heroes are led captive, even as Samson was betrayed +by Delilah. The discovery of quartz mining leads Valois to +believe that an American science of geologic mining will be a +great help in the future. Years of failure and effort, great +experience, with associated capital, will be needed for exploring +the deep quartz veins. Their mysterious origin baffles the +scientist.</p> +<p>Long after the individual argonauts have laid their weary +brows upon the drifted pine needles in the deep eternal sleep of +Death, the problem will be solved. When their lonely graves are +landmarks of the Sierras; when the ephemeral tent towns have been +folded up forever, the broad lands of California will support +great communities. To them, these early days will be as unreal as +the misty wreaths clinging around the Sierras.</p> +<p>The romance of the Gilded Age! Each decade throws a deeper +mantle of the shadowy past over the struggles of fresh hearts +that failed in the mad race for gold.</p> +<p>Their lives become, day by day, a mere disjointed mass of +paltry incident. Their careers point no moral, even if they adorn +the future tale. The type of the argonaut itself begins to +disappear. Those who returned freighted with gold to their +foreign homes are rich, and leading other lives far away. Those +who diverted their new-found wealth into industries are +prospering. They will leave histories and stable monuments of +their life-work. But the great band of placer hunters have +wandered into the distant territories of the great West. They +leave their bones scattered, under the Indian's attack, or die on +distant quests. They drop into the stream of unknown fate. No +moral purpose attended their arrival. No high aim directed their +labors. As silently as they came, the rope of sand has sifted +away. Their influence is absolutely nothing upon the future +social life of California. Even later Californian society owes +nothing of its feverish strangeness to these gold hunters. They +toiled in their historic quest. The prosaic results of the +polyglot settlement of the new State are not of their +direction.</p> +<p>The bizarre Western character is due to an admixture of +ill-assorted elements. Not to gold itself or the lust of gold. +The personal history of the gold hunters is almost valueless. No +hallowed memory clings to the miner's grave. No blessing such as +hovers over the soldier, dead under his country's banner.</p> +<p>The early miners fell by the way, while grubbing for gold. +Their ends were only selfish gain. Their gold was a minister of +vilest pleasures. A fool's title to temporary importance.</p> +<p>Among them were many of high powers and great capacity, worthy +of deeds of derring-do, yet it cannot be denied that the +narrowest impulses of human action drove the impetuous explorers +over the high Sierras. Gain alone buried them in the dim +ca¤ons of the Yuba and American. The sturdy citizens +pouring in with their families, seeking homes; those who laid the +enduring foundations of the social fabric, the laws and +enterprises of necessity, pith, and moment, are the real fathers +of the great Golden State. In the rapidity of settlement, all the +manifold labors of civilization began together. Laus Deo! There +were hands, brains, and hearts for those trying hours of the +sudden acquisition of this royal domain.</p> +<p>The thoughtful scholar Nevins, throwing open the first public +school-room to a little nursery-like brood, planted the seeds of +a future harvest, far richer than the output of the river +treasuries.</p> +<p>A farmer's wife toiling over the long plains, caring for two +beehives, mindful of the future, introduced a future wealth, +kinder in prophetic thought, than he who blindly stumbled on a +bonanza.</p> +<p>Humble farmer, honest head of family, intelligent teacher, +useful artisan, wise doctor, and skilled mechanic, these were the +real fathers of the State.</p> +<p>The sailor, the mechanic, and the good pioneer women, these +are the heroes and heroines gratefully remembered now. They +regulated civilization; they stood together against the +gold-maddened floating miners; they fought the vicious +camp-followers.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois, learned in the civil law of his native State, +speaking French and Spanish, soon plunged in the vexatious land +litigation of his generation. Mere casual occupancy gave little +color of title to the commoner Mexicans. Now, the great grant +owners are, one by one, cited into court to prove their holdings; +many are forced in by aggressive squatters.</p> +<p>While gold still pours out of the mines, and the young State +feels a throbbing life everywhere, the native Californians are +sorely pressed between the land-getting and the mining classes. +Wild herds no longer furnish them free meat at will. The mustangs +are driven away from their haunts. Growing poverty cuts off ranch +hospitality. Without courage to labor, the poorer Mexicans, +contemptuously called Greasers, go to the extremes of passive +suffering. All the occupations of the vaqueros are gone. These +desperate Greasers are driven to horse-stealing and robbery.</p> +<p>Expert with lasso, knife, and revolver, they know every trail. +These bandits mount themselves at will from herds of the +new-comers.</p> +<p>The regions of the north, the forests of the Sierras, and the +lonely southern valleys give them safe lurking-places. Wherever +they reach a ranch of their people, they are protected; the +pursuers are baffled; they are misled by the sly hangers-on of +these gloomy adobe houses.</p> +<p>In San Joaquin, the brigands hold high carnival; they sally +out on wild rides across the upper Sacramento. The mining regions +are in terror. Herds of stolen horses are driven by the Livermore +Pass to the south. Cattle and sheep are divided; they are used +for food. Sometimes the brands are skilfully altered by addition +or counterfeit.</p> +<p>Suspicious Mexicans are soon in danger. Short shrift is given +to the horse-thief. The State authorities are powerless in face +of the duplicity of these native residents. They feel they have +been enslaved by the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. The roads +became unsafe. Travellers are subject to a sudden volley from +ambush. The fatal lasso is one trick; the midnight stab, when +lodging in Mexican wayside houses, is another. There is no longer +safety save in the large towns. From San Diego to Shasta, a chain +of criminals leaves a record of bloody deeds. There are broader +reasons than the mere friction of races. The native Californians +are rudely treated in the new courts; their personal rights are +invaded; their homes are not secure; their women are made the +prey of infamous attack.</p> +<p>A deadly feud now rises between the Mexicans and Americans. +These brutal encroachments of the new governing race bring +reprisals in chance duels and secret crimes. This organized +robbery is a return blow. The Americans are forced to travel in +posses. They reinforce their sheriffs. They establish armed +messengers. In town and county they execute suspects by a lively +applied Lynch law.</p> +<p>All that is needed to create a general race-war is a +determined leader.</p> +<p>As months roll on, the record of violence becomes alarming. +Small stations are attacked, many desperate fights occur. Dead +men are weltering in their blood, on all the trails. A scheming +intelligence seems now to direct the bandits. Pity was never in +the Mexican heart. But now unarmed men are butchered while +praying for mercy. Their bodies are wantonly gashed. Droves of +poor, plodding, unarmed Chinese miners are found lying dead like +sheep in rows. Every trail and road is unsafe. Different bodies +of robbers, from five to twenty, operate at the same time. There +is no telegraph here as yet, to warn the helpless settlers. The +following of treasure trains shows that spies are aiding the +bandits.</p> +<p>The leading men of the new State find this scourge unbearable. +Lands are untenanted, cattle and herds are a prey to the robbers. +Private and public reward has failed to check this evil. +Sheriff's posses and occasional lynching parties shoot and hang. +Still the evil grows. It is an insult to American courage. As +1852 is ushered in, there are nearly two hundred and fifty +thousand dwellers in the new State. Still the reign of terror +continues. One curious fact appears. All of the bandits chased +south toward Monterey or Los Angeles are finally driven to bay, +killed, or scattered as fugitives. In the middle regions, the +organization of the Mexican murderers seems to be aided by +powerful friends. They evidently furnish news, supplies, and give +concealment to these modern butchers. They are only equalled by +the old cutthroats of the Spanish main.</p> +<p>A meeting of citizens is called at Stockton. It is privately +held, for fear of betrayal. Maxime Valois is, as usual, in the +van. His knowledge of the country and his renown as a member of +Fremont's party fit him to lead. A secret organization is +perfected. The sheriff of the county is made head of it. He can +use the power of posse and his regular force. The plundered +merchants agree to furnish money as needed. Maxime Valois is +needed as the directing brain. In study over news and maps, the +result proves that the coast and south are only used for the sale +of stock or for refuge.</p> +<p>The extreme north of the State shows no prey, save the +starving Klamath Indians. It is true the robbers never have +cursed the upper mountains. Their control sweeps from Shasta to +Sonoma, from Marysville and Nevada as far as the gates of +Sacramento, and down to the Livermore Pass. Mariposa groans under +their attacks.</p> +<p>Valois concludes this bloody warfare is a logical result of +the unnecessary conquest of California. To lose their nationality +is galling. To see Mexico, which abandoned California, get +$15,000,000 in compensation for the birthright of the Dons is +maddening. It irritates the suspicious native blood. To be ground +down daily, causes continual bickering. Ranch after ranch falls +away under usury or unjust decisions. In this ably planned +brigandage, Valois discerns some young resentful Californian of +good family has assisted. The terrific brutality points also to a +relentless daring nature, aroused by some special wrong.</p> +<p>Valois muses at night in his lonely office. His ready +revolvers are at hand. Even here in Stockton a Mexican, friendly +to the authorities, has been filled with bullets by a horseman. +The assailant was swathed to his head in his scrape. He dashed +away like the wind. There is danger everywhere.</p> +<p>The young lawyer pictures this, the daring bravo—hero by +nature—made a butcher and a fiend by goading sorrows. It +must be some one who knows the Americans, who has travelled the +interior, and has personal wrongs to avenge.</p> +<p>These dark riders strike both innocent and guilty. They kill +without reason, and destroy in mere wantonness. The band has +never been met in its full muster. The general operations are +always the same. It seems to Valois that there are two burning +questions:</p> +<p>First—Who is the leader?</p> +<p>Second—Where is the hiding-place or stronghold?</p> +<p>To paralyze the band, this master intelligence must be +neutralized by death. To finish the work, that stronghold must be +found or destroyed.</p> +<p>There is as yet no concurrent voice as to their leader. Maxime +Valois is positive, however, that the stronghold is not far from +the slopes of Mariposa. The deadly riders seem to disappear, when +driven towards Stockton. They afterwards turn up, as if sure +shelter was near.</p> +<p>But who will hound this fiend to his lair? Valois sends for +the sheriff. They decide to organize a picked corps of men. They +will ride the roads, with leaders selected from veteran Indian +fighters. Others are old soldiers of the Mexican war. The +heaviest rewards are offered, to stimulate the capture of the +bandit chiefs. Valois knows, though, that money will never cause +a Mexican to betray any countryman to the Americans. A woman's +indiscretion, yes, a jealous sweetheart's bitter hatred might +lead to gaining the bandit chief's identity. But gold. Never! The +Mexicans never needed it, save to gamble. Judas is their national +scapegoat.</p> +<p>The sheriff has collated every story of attack. Valois draws +out the personality of the leading actor in this revelry of +death. A superb horseman, of medium size, who handles his +American dragoon revolvers with lightning rapidity. A young man +in a yellow, black-striped scrape. He is always superbly mounted. +He has curling blackest hair. Two dark eyes, burning under bushy +brows, are the principal features. This man has either led the +murderers or been present at the fiercest attacks. In many pistol +duels, he has killed some poor devil in plain sight of his +comrades.</p> +<p>Valois decides to search all towns where Spanish women abound, +for such a romantic figure. This bandit must need supplies and +ammunition. He must visit women, the fandango, and the +attractions of monte. He must have friends to give him news of +treasure movements. Valois watches secretly the Spanish quarters +of all the mountain towns and the great ranchos.</p> +<p>The Louisianian knows that every gambling-shop and dance-house +is a centre of spies and marauders. The throngs of unnoticed +Mexicans, in a land where every traveller is an armed horseman, +enable these robber fiends to mingle with the innocent. The +common language, hatred of the Americans, the hospitality to +criminals of their blood, and the admiration of the sullen +natives for these bravos, prevent any dependence on the Mexican +population.</p> +<p>The pursuers have often failed because of lack of supplies, +and worn-out steeds. The villains are secretly refitted by those +who harbor them. An hour suffices to drive up the "caballada," +and remount the bandits at any friendly interior ranch.</p> +<p>Obstinate silence is all the roadside dwellers' return to +questions.</p> +<p>Valois cons over the bloody record of the last two years. The +desperate crimes begin with Andres Armijo and Tomas Maria +Carrillo. They were unyielding ex-soldiers. Both of these have +been run to earth. Salamon Pico, an independent bandit, of native +blood, follows the same general career. John Irving, a renegade +American, has held the southern part of the State. With his +followers, he murdered General Bean and others. He was only an +outcast foreigner.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois knows that Irving and his band have been +butchered by savage Indians near the Colorado. Yet none of these +have killed for mere lust of blood. This mysterious chieftain who +murders for personal vengeance, is soon known to the determined +Louisianian. In the long trail of tiger-like assassinations, the +robber is disclosed by his unequalled thirst for blood.</p> +<p>"Joaquin Murieta, Joaquin the Mountain Robber, Joaquin the +Yellow Tiger." He flashes out from the dark shades of night, or +the depths of chaparral and forest. His insane butchery proves +Valois to be correct.</p> +<p>Dashing through camps, lurking around towns, appearing in +distant localities, he robs stages, plunders stations, and +personally murders innocent travellers. Express riders are +ambushed. The word "Joaquin," scrawled on a monte card, and +pinned to the dead man's breast, often tells the tale. Lonely men +are found on the trails with the fatal bullet-hole in the back of +the head, shot in surprise. Sometimes he appears with followers, +often alone. Now openly daring individual conflict, then slinking +at night and in silence. Sneak, bravo, and tiger. He is a Turpin +in horsemanship. A fiend in his thirst for blood. A charmed life +seems his. On magnificent steeds, he rides down the fleeing +traveller. He coolly murders the exhausted "Gringo," taunting his +hated race with cowardice. Sweeping from north to south, five +hundred miles, this yellow-clad fiend always keeps the Sacramento +or San Joaquin between him and the coast. Men shudder at the name +of Joaquin Murieta.</p> +<p>Valois sees that the robber chief's permanent haunt is +somewhere in the Sierras. This must be found. The sheriffs of +Placer, Nevada, Sierra, El Dorado, Tuolumne, Calaveras, and +Mariposa counties are in the field with posses. Skirmish after +skirmish occurs. All doubtful men are arrested. Yet the red +record continues. Doubling on the pursuers, hiding, the bandit +whirls from Shasta to Tehama, from Oroville to Sacramento, from +Marysville to Placerville. Stockton, San Andreas, Sonora, and +Mariposa are terrorized. Plundered pack-trains, murdered men, and +robbed wayfarers prove that Joaquin Murieta is ever at work. His +swoop is unerring. The yellow serape, black banded, the dark +scowling face, and the battery of four revolvers, two on his +body, two on his saddle, soon make him known to all the +State.</p> +<p>The Governor offers five thousand dollars State reward for +Joaquin's head. County rewards are also published. Valois watches +all the leading Mexican families. Some wild son or member must be +unaccounted for. No criminal has yet appeared of good blood, save +Tomas Maria Carrillo. But he has been dead a year, shot in his +tracks by a brave man. The bandits hover around Stockton. The +Americans go heavily armed, and only travel in large bodies. +Public rage reaches its climax, when there is found pinned on the +body of a dead deputy-sheriff a printed proclamation of the +Governor of $5,000 for Joaquin's head.</p> +<p>Under the printed words is the scrawl:</p> +<p>"I myself will give ten thousand.</p> +<h3>"JOAQUIN."</h3> +<p>The passions of the Americans break loose. Innocent Mexicans +are shot and hanged; all stragglers driven out.</p> +<p>The San Joaquin valley becomes a theatre of continued +conflict.</p> +<p>"Claudio," another dark chief, ravages the Salinas. He is the +robber king of the coast. The officers find a union between the +coast and inland bandits. Now the manly settlers of the San +Joaquin rise in wrath. Texan rangers, old veterans, heroes of +Comanche and Sioux battles, all swear to hunt Joaquin Murieta to +death.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois takes the saddle. He posts strong forces in the +defiles opening to the coast. A secret messenger leaves for +Monterey. A vigorous attack on the coast bandits drives them +toward the inland passes.</p> +<p>"Claudio" and his followers are killed, after a bitter +hand-to-hand duel. One or two are hanged. Sheriff Cocks is the +hero of the coast. Maxime Valois calls his ablest men +together.</p> +<p>Dividing the main forces into several bodies, a leader is +selected for each squad. Scouts are thrown out. They report daily +to the heads of divisions. The moving forces are ready to close +in and envelop their hated enemy.</p> +<p>Learning of the death of "Claudio," and that a strong body of +Southern settlers is also in the field, Maxime Valois feels the +band of Joaquin is cut off in the square between Placerville and +Sonora, Stockton and the Sierras. It is agreed that the fortunate +division striking the robbers, shall follow the warm trail to the +last man and horse. Reinforcements will push after them.</p> +<p>The sheriff has charge of one, Maxime Valois of another, +Captain Harry Love, a swarthy long-haired Texan ranger, of the +third. Love's magnificent horsemanship, his dark features, +drooping mustache and general appearance, might class him as a +Spaniard. Blackened with the burning sun of the plains, the +deserts, and tropic Mexico, his cavalier locks sweep to his +shoulders. The heavy Kentucky rifle, always carried across his +saddle, proves him the typical frontiersman and ranger. He is a +dead shot. Many a Comanche and guerilla have fallen under the +unerring aim of Harry Love. His agile frame, quickness with the +revolver, and nerve with the bowie-knife, have made him equally +feared at close quarters.</p> +<p>In the dark hours of a spring morning of 1854, the main +command breaks into its three divisions. The sheriff covers the +lines towards the north and San Andreas. Maxime skirts the +Sierras. Harry Love, marching silently and at night, hiding his +command by day, marches towards Sonora. He sweeps around and +rejoins Valois' main body. The net is spread.</p> +<p>Scouts are distributed over this region. The mad wolf of the +Sierras is at last to be hunted to his lair.</p> +<p>The unknown retreat must be in the Sierras. He determines to +throw his own command over the valley towards the unvisited +Lagunitas rancho. Padre Francisco will be there, a good adviser. +Valois, the rich and successful lawyer, is another man from the +penniless prisoner of seven years before. Knowing the hatred of +Don Miguel for the Americans, he has never revisited the place. +Still he would like to meet the beloved padre again. He will not +uselessly enrage the gloomy lord of Lagunitas. Don Miguel is a +hermit now.</p> +<p>Three days' march, skilfully concealed, brings him to the +notched pass, where Lagunitas lies under its sentinel +mountains.</p> +<p>Brooding over the past, thinking of the great untravelled +regions behind the grant, stories from the early life of Don +Miguel haunt the sleepless hours of the anxious young Southern +leader. He lies under the stars, wrapped in his blankets. +Lagunitas, once more!</p> +<p>Up before day, filing through light forest and down the passes +of the foothills, the command threads its way. Valois calls his +leading subordinates together. He arranges the visit to the +ranch. He sends a squad of five to ride down the roads a few +miles, and meet any scouts or vedettes of the other Southern +party. Valois directs his men where to rejoin him. He points out, +a few miles ahead, a rocky cliff, behind which the rolling hills +around Lagunitas offer several hidden approaches to the rancho. +Cautiously leading his men, to avoid a general alarm, he skirts +the woods. The party rides in Indian file, to leave a light trail +only.</p> +<p>Before the frowning cliff is neared, Valois' keen eye sees his +scouts straggling back. They are galloping at rapid speed, making +for the cliff. The whole command, with smoking steeds, soon joins +the scouts. With them are two of Love's outriders. The bandits +are near at hand. For the scouts, riding up all night from Love's +body, have taken the main road. Within ten miles they find +several dead men—the ghastly handiwork of Joaquin. Their +breathless report is soon over. Detaching ten fresh men, with one +of the news-bearers, to join Love and bring him up post-haste, +Maxime Valois orders every man to prepare his girths and arms for +action. Guided by the other scouts, the whole command pricks +briskly over to the concealment of a rolling valley. There is but +one ridge between it, now, and Lagunitas.</p> +<p>Maxime calls up his aids. He gives them his rapid directions. +Only the previous knowledge of the ex-pathfinder enabled him to +throw his men behind the sheltering ridge, unseen from the old +Don's headquarters.</p> +<p>In case of meeting any robbers, the subordinates are to seize +and hold the ranch with ten determined men. He throws the rest +out in a strong line, to sweep east and south, till Love's column +is met. Winding into the glen, Valois takes five men and mounts +the ridge.</p> +<p>He now skilfully nears the crest of the ridge. The main +command is moving slowly, a few hundred yards below. With the +skill of the old scout of the plains, he brings his little squad +up to the shoulder of the ridge to the south of the rancho. +Dismounting, Indian-like, he crawls up to the summit, from which +the beautiful panorama of glittering Lagunitas lies before him. +By his side is a tried friend. A life and death supporter.</p> +<p>Lagunitas again! It is backed by the forest, where swaying +pines are singing the same old song of seven long years ago. His +eye sweeps over the scene.</p> +<p>Quick as a flash, Valois springs back to the horses. Two +mounted cavaliers, followed by a serving man, can be seen smartly +loping away to the southeast. They are bending towards the region +where Love's course, the trail of the bandits, and Maxime's march +intersect. Is it treachery? Some one to warn the robbers!</p> +<p>Not a moment to lose! "Harris," cries Valois to his companion, +"lead the main command over to that mountain. Be ready to strike +any moment. Send Hill and ten men to capture the ranch by moving +over the ridge. Keep every one there. Hold every human inmate. +I'll cut these men off." Away gallops Harris. Valois leads the +four over the other spur. They drop down the eastern slope of the +point. The riders have to pass near. In rapid words he orders +them to throw themselves quickly, at a dead run, ahead of the +travellers. He waits till, six or eight hundred yards away, the +strange horsemen pass the lowest point of the ridge. The first +three scouts are now well across the line of march of the +quick-moving strangers. Then, with a word, "Now, boys, remember!" +Valois spurs his roan out into the open. At a wild gallop he cuts +off the retreat of the horsemen.</p> +<p>Ha! one turns. They are discovered. In an instant the wild +mustangs are racing south. Valois dashes along in pursuit. He has +warned his men to use no firearms till absolutely necessary. He +shouts to his two followers to wait till the last. He would +capture, not kill, these three spies.</p> +<p>Out from the slopes below, the main column, at a brisk trot, +cross the valley. They are led by the quick-eyed scout, who knows +how to throw them on the narrowing suspected region. Love's men +and the band of Joaquin, if here, must soon meet. The three men +in advance ride up at different points. They have seen pursuer +and pursued galloping madly towards them. Instantly the man +following the first rider darts northward, and spurring up a +ridge disappears, followed by two of the three scouts in advance. +The other rider draws up and stands his ground with his servant. +As Valois and his companions ride up, the crack, crack, crack, of +heavy dragoon revolvers is wafted over the ridge. It is now too +late for prudence. The horseman at bay has wheeled. Maxime +recognizes the old Don.</p> +<p>Miguel Peralta is no man to be bearded in his own lair, +unscathed. He spurs his horse back towards the ranch. He fires +rapidly into the three pursuers as he darts by. He is a dangerous +foe yet.</p> +<p>Valois feels a sharp pang in his shoulder. He reels in his +saddle. His revolver lies in the dust. The ringing reports of his +body-guard peal out as they empty their pistols at fleeing horse +and man, The servant runs up, thoroughly frightened.</p> +<p>Don Miguel's best horse has made its last leap. It crashes +down, pinioning the old soldier to the ground. A bullet luckily +has pierced its brain.</p> +<p>Before the old ranchero can struggle to his feet, his hands +are twisted behind his back. A couple of turns of a lariat clamp +his wrists with no fairy band. A cocked pistol pressed against +his head tells him that the game is up.</p> +<p>Valois drops, half fainting, from his horse, while his men +disarm and bind the sullen old Mexican. The blood pouring from +Valois' shoulder calls for immediate bandaging. The two pursuers +of the other fugitive now ride smartly back.</p> +<p>One lags along, with a torn and shattered jaw. His companion +is unhurt. He bears across his saddle bow a well-known emblem, +the yellow and black scrape of Joaquin Murieta. Several ball +holes prove it might have been his shroud. Valois quickly +interrogates the two; after a hasty pistol duel, in which the +flowing serape misled the two practised shots, the fugitive +plunged down a steep slope, with all the recklessness of a +Californian vaquero. It was Joaquin!</p> +<p>When the pursuers reached the trail, it was marked by the +abandoned blanket. A heavy saddle also lay there, cut loose. +Joaquin Murieta was riding away on the wings of the wind, but +unwittingly into the jaws of death. Two or three from the main +body took up the trail. The whole body pushed ahead on the track +of the flying bandit—ready for fight.</p> +<p>With failing energies, Valois directs the unwounded pursuer to +rejoin the column. He sends stern orders to Harris, to spare +neither man nor beast, to follow the trail to the last. Even to +the heart of the gloomy forests, this great human vampire must be +hounded on his lonely ride to death.</p> +<p>In the saddle, held up by his men, Maxime Valois toils slowly +towards Lagunitas. Beside him the wounded scout, pistol in hand, +rides as a body-guard. In charge of growling old Don Miguel, a +man leads him, dismounted, by a lariat. His horse and trappings +lie on the trail, after removing all the arms. He is sullen and +silent. His servant is a mere human animal. Cautiously +approaching, the plaza lies below them. In the square, the horses +of the captors can be seen peacefully grazing. Sentinels are +mounted at several places. Valois at last reenters the old +hacienda, wounded, but in pride, as a conqueror.</p> +<p>He is met at the priest's door by Padre Francisco. Don Miguel +Peralta, the last of the land barons of the San Joaquin, is now a +prisoner in the sacristy of the church. Time has its revenges. +The turns of fortune's wheel. Padre Francisco assembles the +entire population of the home ranch by the clanging of the church +bell. In a few words he explains the reasons of the occupancy. He +orders the hired men to remain in the enclosure under the guard +of the sentinels. He dresses skilfully the wound of Maxime. He +patches up the face of the wounded scout, whose proudest future +boast will be that Joaquin Murieta gave him those honorable +scars.</p> +<p>Maxime, worn and faint, falls into a fevered sleep. His +subordinate holds the ranch, with all the force ready for any +attack. The afternoon wears on. In sleep Valois forgets both the +flying bandit and his fate. The old Don, his eyes filled with +scalding tears, rages in his bonds. Pale, frightened Donna +Juanita clasps her hands in the agony of prayer before the +crucifix in the chapel. Beside her stands Dolores, now a budding +beauty, in radiant womanhood. The dark-eyed young girl is mute. +Her pathetic glances are as shy as a wounded deer's dying gaze. +"The dreaded Americanos."</p> +<p>Over the beautiful hills, fanned by the breezes of sunset, the +softened shadows fall. Twilight brings the hush and rest of early +evening. The stars mirror themselves in the sparkling bosom of +Lagunitas.</p> +<p>Watching the wounded leader, Padre Francisco's seamed, +thoughtful face is very grave. His thin fingers tell the beads of +the rosary. Prayer after prayer passes his moving lips.</p> +<p>The shadow of sorrow, sin, and shame is on Lagunitas. He fears +for the future of the family. There has been foul play. There the +tiger of Sonora has made his lair in the trackless ca¤ons +and rich valleys of the foot-hills. The old Don must have known +all.</p> +<p>Prayers for the dead and dying fall on the silence of the +night. They are roughly broken by the trampling of horses' feet. +The priest is called out by the sentinel. By the dim light of the +stars, he sees two score shadowy horsemen. Between their lines, +several poor wretches are bound and shivering in captivity.</p> +<p>A swarthy figure swings from the saddle. Captain Harry Love +springs across the threshold. Unmindful of the warning of the +priest, he rouses Valois. He cries exultantly, "We have him this +time, squire!" Lying on the portico, tied in the sack, in which +it swung at the ranger's saddle-horn, is the head of Joaquin +Murieta. Valois struggles to his feet. Surrounded by the victors, +by the light of a torch, he gazes on the awful token of victory. +As the timid priest sees the fearful object, he cries, "Joaquin +Carrillo!"</p> +<p>It is indeed he. The disgraced scion of an old and proud line. +The good priest shudders as Harry Love, leaning on the rifle +which sent its ball into Joaquin's heart, calmly says, "That +thing is worth ten thousand dollars to me to-night, Valois!"</p> +<p>Already, swift riders are bringing up the forces of the +sheriff. In the morning the history is known. The converging +columns struck the bandits, who scattered. The work of vengeance +was quick. "Three-fingered Jack," the murderous ancient of the +bandit king, is killed in the camp. Several fugitives are +captured. Several more hung. Joaquin Murieta, exhausted in the +flight of the morning, his horse tired and wounded, drops from +the charger, at a snap shot of the intrepid ranger, Love. The +robber has finished his last ride.</p> +<p>Valois recovers rapidly. He has much to do to stem the +resentment of the pursuers. The head of Joaquin and the hand of +Three-fingered Jack are poor, scanty booty. Not as ghastly as the +half-dozen corpses swinging on Lagunitas' oaks, and ghastly +trophies of a chase of months. The prisoners are lynched. Far and +wide, cowardly avengers butcher suspected Mexicans. California +breathes freely now. Joaquin Murieta Carrillo will weave no more +guerilla plots.</p> +<p>The padre and Valois commune with the frightened lady of the +hacienda. Donna Juanita implores protection. Shy Dolores puts her +slender hand in his, and begs him to protect her beloved +father.</p> +<p>Maxime, in pity for the two women, conceals the history +gathered from honorable Fran‡ois Ribaut. Joaquin played +skilfully upon Don Miguel's hatred of the Americans. He knew of +the lurking places behind Lagunitas. From these interior +fastnesses, known to Don Miguel from early days, Joaquin could +move on several short lines. He thus appeared as if by magic. +With confederates at different places, his scattered bands had a +rendezvous near Lagunitas. His followers mingled with different +communities, and were picked up here and there on his raids. +Special attacks were suggested by treasure movements. The +murdering was not executed by the general banditti, but by +Joaquin alone, and one or two of his special bravos. Examining +the captives, Padre Francisco, by the agency of the Church, +learned that, a few years before, a lovely Mexican girl, to whom +Joaquin was bound by a desperate passion, was the victim of foul +outrage by some wandering American brutes. Her death, +broken-hearted, caused the desperado to swear her grave should be +watered with American blood. Pride of race, and a bitter thirst +for revenge, made Joaquin Murieta what he was,—a human +scourge. His boyhood, spent roaming over the interior, rendered +him matchless in local topography.</p> +<p>It was possible to disguise the fact of supplies being drawn +from Lagunitas. Don Miguel was a great ranchero. As days rolled +on, the plunder of the bandits was brought to the rancho. +Joaquin's mutilated body was a prey to the mountain wolf. The +ghastly evidences of victory were sent to San Francisco, where +they remained for years, a reminder of bloody reprisal.</p> +<p>Padre Francisco saw with fear the rising indignation against +Don Miguel. A clamor for his blood arose. Maxime Valois plead for +the old Commandante. He had really imagined Joaquin's vendetta to +be a sort of lawful war.</p> +<p>The forces began to leave Lagunitas. Only a strong escort body +remained. Valois prepares his departure.</p> +<p>In a last interview, with Padre Francisco present, the lawyer +warned Don Miguel not to leave his hacienda for some time. His +life would surely be sacrificed to the feelings of the Americans. +Thankful for their safety, the mother and sweet girl Dolores +gratefully bid adieu to Maxime. He headed, himself, the last +departing band of the invaders. The roads were safe to all. No +trace of treasures of Joaquin was found. Great was the murmuring +of the rangers. Were these hoards concealed on the rancho? Search +availed nothing. Valois spurs down the road. Lagunitas! He +breathes freer, now that the avengers are balked, at Lagunitas. +They would even sack the rancho. Camping twenty miles away, +Maxime dreams of his Southern home, as the stars sweep +westward.</p> +<p>In the morning, a rough hand rouses him. It is the +sentinel.</p> +<p>"Captain, wake up!"</p> +<p>He springs to his feet. "What is it?" he cries.</p> +<p>"Half the men are gone, sir. They have stolen back to hang the +old Spaniard. They think he has concealed Joaquin's +treasures."</p> +<p>Valois rouses several tired friends.</p> +<p>"My horse!" he yells.</p> +<p>As he springs to the saddle, the sentinel tells him a friend +disclosed the plot. Fear kept him silent till the mutineers stole +away.</p> +<p>"There are yet two hours to day. Is there time?" Maxime +stretches out in the gallop of a skilled plainsman. He must save +the priest and the women at least.</p> +<p>The mutineers will wait till daylight for their swoop. They +are mad with the thirst for the lost treasures of Joaquin.</p> +<p>On, on, with the swing of the prairie wolf, the young leader +gallops. He rides down man after man. As he gallops he thinks of +Se¤ora Juanita, the defenceless priest, the wounded old +Commandante, and the sweet blossoming beauty of the Sierras, +star-eyed young Dolores. They must be saved. On, on!</p> +<p>Day points over the hills as Maxime dashes into the unguarded +plaza of the ranch. There are sounds of shots, yells, and +trampling feet. He springs from his exhausted steed. The doors of +the ranch-house give way. He rushes to the entrance, to find the +rooms empty. In a moment he realizes the facts. He reaches the +priest's house. Beating on the door, he cries: "Open quick! It is +Valois." Springing inside he finds Padre Francisco, his eyes lit +up with the courage of a gallant French gentleman.</p> +<p>"They are all here," he gasps. "Safe?" queries Valois. "Yes." +"Thank God!" Maxime cries. "Quick! Hurry them into the church. +Hold the sacristy door."</p> +<p>Maxime's two or three friends have followed him. The doors are +closed behind them. The heavy adobe walls are shot-proof. The +refuge of the church is gained none too soon.</p> +<p>The mutineers spread through the padre's house. Pouring in +through the sacristy passage, they are faced in the gray dawn by +Valois, his eyes blazing. He holds a dragoon revolver in each +hand. He is a dead shot. Yet the mutineers are fearless.</p> +<p>"Give up the Greaser robber!" is their mad yell.</p> +<p>"Never!" cries Valois. "He is old and foolish, but he shall +not be abused. Let him answer to the law."</p> +<p>"Captain," cries one, "we don't want to hurt you, but we are +going to find Joaquin's plunder."</p> +<p>"The first man who moves over this threshold is a dead man!" +cries Valois.</p> +<p>No one cares to be first, but they rage wildly. They all +gather for a rush. Weapons are ominously clicking. As they come +on, Padre Francisco stands before them, pale and calm in the +morning light.</p> +<p>"Kill me first, my friends," he says. His body covers +Valois.</p> +<p>The knot of desperate men stand back. They cannot shoot an +unarmed priest, yet growling murmurs are heard: "Burn them out," +"Go ahead."</p> +<p>"Shoot the old Greaser."</p> +<p>A sound of trampling hoofs drowns their cries. The main body +of the detachment, stung with shame, have galloped back to rescue +Valois. It is over. The mutineers sullenly retire in a body.</p> +<p>Three hours later the detachment rides off. The rebels have +wandered away. Guarded by the friends of the wild night-ride, +Valois remains at Lagunitas.</p> +<p>Under questioning of the padre, whose honorable French blood +boils at the domain being made a nest of assassins, the Don +describes Joaquin's lurking-places. With one or two mozos, Valois +visits all the old camps of the freebooters, within seventy-five +miles. He leaves his men at Lagunitas for safety. He threads the +fastnesses of the inviolate forests. They stretch from Shasta to +Fresno, the great sugar pines and redwoods of California.</p> +<p>The axe of man has not yet attacked them. No machinery, no +tearing saws are in these early days destroying their noble +symmetry. But they are doomed. Fires and wanton destruction are +yet to come, to leave blackened scars over once lovely areas. Man +mutilates the lovely face of Nature's sweetest sylvan retreats. +Down the great gorge of the Yosemite, Valois rides past the giant +Big Trees of Calaveras. He finds no hidden treasures, no buried +deposits. The camps near Lagunitas disclose only some concealed +supplies. No arms, valuables, and treasures, torn from the +murdered travellers, in the two years' red reign of Joaquin, the +Mountain Tiger.</p> +<p>Valois concludes that Joaquin divided the gold among his +followers. He must have used it largely to purchase assistance +from his spies, scattered through the interior.</p> +<p>The stolen animals were undoubtedly all scattered over the +State. The weapons, saddlery, and gear, booty of the native +horse-thief bands, have been sent as far as Chihuahua in Mexico. +Valuable personal articles were scarce. Few trophies were ever +recovered. The gold-dust was unrecognizable. Valois reluctantly +gives up the search. He returns convinced that mere lust of blood +directed Joaquin Murieta Carrillo.</p> +<p>The bandits under him represented the native discontent. Their +acts were a protest against the brutal Americans. They were +goaded on by the loss of all property rights. This harshness +drove the Indians, decimated, drunken, and diseased, from their +patrimonial lands. It has effected the final ruin of the native +Californians. Frontier greed and injustice have done a shameful +work.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois blushes for his own nation. He realizes that +indigenous dwellers must go to the wall in poverty, to their +death. They go down before the rush of the wolf pack, hunting +gold, always gold.</p> +<p>Taking the precaution to leave men to bear to him any messages +from the padre, Maxime leaves Lagunitas for Stockton. The affairs +of the community call him home. Property, covered by his +investments, has been exposed to fire and flood at Sacramento. +Sari Francisco has been half destroyed by a great conflagration. +These calamities make thousands penniless.</p> +<p>Before he rides away, old Don Miguel comes to say adieu to his +savior, once his prisoner. "Se¤or Americano," he murmurs, +"be pleased to come to my house." Followed by the padre, Valois +enters. There Don Miguel bids Donna Juanita and Dolores thank the +man who saved his life.</p> +<p>"I shall not be here long, Se¤or Abogado," he says; "I +wish you and the padre to watch over my wife and child. YOU are a +'caballero' and 'buen Cristiano.'"</p> +<p>Padre Francisco has proved that the young leader is a true +child of the Church.</p> +<p>The finest horse on the rancho is led to the door. It is +trapped with Don Miguel's state equipment. With a wave of the +hand, he says:</p> +<p>"Se¤or, vayase V. con Dios. That horse will never fail +you. It is the pride of the Lagunitas herds."</p> +<p>Maxime promises to aid in any future juncture. He rides out +from lonely Lagunitas, near which tradition to-day locates those +fabulous deposits, the vanished treasures of Joaquin, the +mountain robber.</p> +<p>A generation glides away. The riches, long sought for, are +never found. This blood-stained gold may lie hidden beneath the +soil of Mariposa, but it is beyond human ken.</p> +<p>There are wild rejoicings at Stockton. Harry Love, splendid in +gayest trappings, is the hero of the hour. The dead mountain +tiger was the last leader of resistance to the Americans. The +humbled Mexicans sink into the condition of wandering helots. The +only possession left is their unconquerable pride, and the +sadness which wraps them in a gloomy mantle.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IX. — THE STRANGER'S FOOT AT LAGUNITAS. VALOIS' +SPANISH BRIDE.</h2> +<p>Through the mines runs a paean of rejoicing. The roads are +free; Joaquin is slain at last. Butcher bravos tire of revenging +past deeds of blood. They slay the helpless Indians, or +assassinate the frightened native Californians. This rude revenge +element, stirred up by Harry Love's exploit, reaches from Klamath +to the Colorado. Yet the unsettled interior is destined to keep +up the sporadic banditti of the valleys for years. Every glen +offers an easy ambush. In the far future only, the telegraph and +railway will finally cut up the great State into localized areas +of civilization.</p> +<p>All the whiskey-drinking and revolver-carrying bravos must be +swept into obscure graves before crime can cease. It becomes, +however, occasional only. While bloody hands are ready, the +plotting brain of Joaquin Murieta never is equalled by any future +bandit.</p> +<p>Coming years bring Francisco Garcia, Sebastian Flores, and the +"Los Manilas" gang, whose seventeen years of bloodshed end +finally at the gallows of Los Angeles. Varrella and Soto, +Tiburcio Vasquez, Santos Lotello, Chavez, and their wild Mexican +brothers, are all destined to die by shot or rope.</p> +<p>"Tom Bell," "Jack Powers," and other American recruits in the +army of villany, have only changed sides in their crimes. All +these wretches merit the deaths awaiting them. The last purely +international element of discord vanishes from the records of +crime.</p> +<p>Wandering Americans aptly learn stage-robbing. They are heirs +of the old riders. The glories of "Black Bart," the lone +highwayman of eighty stage-robberies, and the "train robbers," +are reserved for the future. But Black Bart never takes life. He +robs only the rich.</p> +<p>Valois appreciates that the day has arrived when legal land +spoliation of the Mexicans will succeed these violent quarrels. +Nothing is left to steal but their land. That is the object of +contention between lawyers, speculators, squatters, and the +defenceless owners. Their domains narrow under mortgage, +interest, and legal (?) robbery.</p> +<p>"Vae victis!" The days of confiscation follow the +conquest.</p> +<p>Hydraulic mining, quartz processes, and corporate effort +succeed the earlier mining attempts. Two different forces are now +in full energy of action.</p> +<p>Hills are swept bodily into the river-beds, in the search for +the underlying gold. Rivers and meadows are filled up, sand +covered, and ruined. Forests are thrown down, to rot by +wholesale. Tunnels are blasted out. The face of nature is gashed +with the quest for gold. Banded together for destruction, the +miners leave no useful landmark behind them. All is washed away +and sent seaward in the choking river-channels.</p> +<p>The home-makers, in peaceful campaigns of seed-time and +harvest, develop new treasures. Great interests are introduced. +The gold of field, orchard, and harvest falls into the hands of +the industrious farmers. These are the men whose only weapons are +scythe and sickle. They are the real Fathers of the Pacific. +Roving over the interior, the miners leave a land as nearly +ruined as human effort can render it. In the wake of these +nugget-hunters, future years bring those who make the abandoned +hills lovely with scattered homes. They are now hidden by +orchards, vineyards, and gardens. Peaceful flocks and herds prove +that the Golden Age of California is not to be these wild days of +the barbaric Forty-niner.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois sees the land sweeping in unrivalled beauty to +the Colorado. Free to the snowy peaks of the Sacramento, the rich +plains roll. He knows that there will be here yet,</p> +<p>"Scattered cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along +them shine, With fields which promise corn and wine."</p> +<p>He realizes that transient California must yield to stable +conditions. Some civilized society will succeed the masses as +lacking in fibre as a rope of sand. Already the days of roving +adventure are over. There are wanderers, gamblers, fugitives, +ex-criminals, and outcasts enough within the limits of the new +land. Siren and adventuress, women of nameless history and gloomy +future, yet abound. They throng the shabby temporary camps or +tent cities. He knows there is no self-perpetuation in the mass +of men roving in the river valleys. Better men must yet rule.</p> +<p>A visit to San Francisco and other large places proves that +the social and commercial element is supplied from the Northern, +Eastern, and Middle States. Their professional men will be +predominant also.</p> +<p>In the interior, the farmers of the West and the sagacious +planters of the South control.</p> +<p>As May-day approaches, Valois, at San Francisco in 1853, sees +a procession of growing children. There, thousands of happy young +faces of school-children, appear bearing roses in innocent +hands.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin gives him the details of the coming struggle of +North and South. It is a battle for the coast from Arizona to +Oregon. Lost to England, Russia, and France, lost to the Mormons +by stupidity or neglect, this West is lost to the South by the +defeat of slavery. Industrious farmers come, in fairly equal +numbers, from the Northern and Southern agricultural States. The +people of the Atlantic free States come with their commerce, +capital, and institutions. The fiat of Webster, Clay, and Seward +has placed the guardian angel of freedom at the gates and passes +of California. The Southerner cannot transfer his human slave +capital to the far West. The very winds sing freedom's song on +the wooded heights of the Sierras.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin sighs, as he drains his glass, "Valois, our +people have doomed the South to a secondary standing in the +Union. This fatal blunder in the West ruins us. Benton and +Fremont's precipitancy thwarted our statesmen. This gold, the +votes of these new States, the future commerce, the immense +resources of the West, all are cast in the balance against us. We +must work for a Western republic. We must wait till we can fight +for Southern rights. We will conquer these ocean States. We will +have this land yet."</p> +<p>The legal Mephisto and his pupil are true to the Southern +cause. Neither of them can measure the coming forces of Freedom. +Rosalie Leese, the pioneer white child of California, born in +1838, at Yerba Buena, was the first of countless thousands of +free-born American children. In the unpolluted West the breath of +slavery shall never blight a single human existence. Old Captain +Richardson and Jacob Leese, pioneers of the magic city of San +Francisco, gaze upon the beautiful ranks of smiling +school-children, in happy troops. They have no regrets, like the +knights of slavery, to see their places in life filled by +free-born young pilgrims of life. All hail the native sons and +daughters of the Golden West!</p> +<p>But the Southern politicians forge to the front. The majority +is still with them. They carry local measures. Their hands are +only tied by the admission of California, as a free State. Too +late! On the far borders of Missouri, the contest of Freedom and +Slavery begins. It excites all America. Bleeding Kansas! Hardin +explains that the circle of prominent Southerners, leading +ranchers, Federal officials, and officers of the army and navy, +are relied on for the future. The South has all the courts. It +controls the legislature. It seeks to cast California's voice +against the Union in the event of civil war. As a last resort +they will swing it off in a separate sovereignty—a Lone +Star of the West.</p> +<p>"We must control here as we did in Texas, Valois. When the +storm arises, we will be annexed to the Southern +Confederacy."</p> +<p>Even as he spoke, the generation of the War was ripening for +the sickle of Death. Filled with the sectional glories of the +Mexican war, Hardin could not doubt the final issue.</p> +<p>"Get land, Valois," he cries. "Localize yourself. When this +State is thrown open to slavery, you will want your natural +position. Maxime, you ought to have a thousand field-hands when +you are master at Lagunitas. You can grow cotton there."</p> +<p>Valois muses. He revolves in his mind the "Southern movement." +Is it treason? He does not stop to ask. As he journeys to +Stockton he ponders. Philip Hardin is about to accept a place on +the Supreme Bench of the State. Not to advance his personal +fortunes, but to be useful to his beloved South.</p> +<p>While the banks, business houses and factories are controlled +by Northern men: while the pothouse politicians of Eastern cities +struggle in ward elections, the South holds all the Federal +honors. They govern society, dominate in the legislature and in +the courts. They dictate the general superior intercourses of +men. The ardent Southrons rule with iron hand. They are as yet +only combated by the pens of Northern-born editors, and a few +fearless souls who rise above the meekly bowing men of the free +States.</p> +<p>All see the approaching downfall of lawless pleasure and +vicious license in San Francisco. Slowly the tide of respectable +settlement rises. It bears away the scum of vice, swept into the +Golden Gates in the first rush. The vile community of escaped +convicts and mad adventurers cannot support itself. "The old +order changeth, yielding slowly to the new."</p> +<p>At the head of all public bodies, the gentleman of the South, +quick to avenge his personal honor, aims, with formal "code," and +ready pistol, to dragoon all public sentiment. He is sworn to +establish the superiority of the cavalier.</p> +<p>The first Mayor of San Francisco, a Congressman elect, gifted +editor Edward Gilbert, has already fallen in an affair of honor. +The control of public esteem depends largely on prowess in the +duelling field. Every politician lives up to the code.</p> +<p>Valois ponders over Hardin's advice. Averse to routine +business, fond of a country life, he decides to localize himself. +His funds have increased. His old partner, Joe Woods, is now a +man of wealth at Sacramento. Maxime has no faith in quartz mines. +He has no desires to invest in ship, or factory. He ignores +commerce. To be a planter, a man of mark in the legislature, to +revive the glories of the Valois family, is the lawyer's wish. +While he passes the tule-fringed river-banks, fate is leading him +back to Lagunitas. He has led a lonely life, this brilliant young +Creole. In the unrest of his blood, under the teachings of +Hardin, Valois feels the future may bear him away to unfought +fields. The grandsons of those who fought at New Orleans, may win +victories, as wonderful, over the enemies of that South, even if +these foes are brothers born.</p> +<p>Gliding towards his fate, the puppet of the high gods, Maxime +Valois may dream of the surrender of Fort Sumter, and of the +Southern Cross soaring high in victory. Appomattox is far hidden +beyond battle-clouds of fields yet to come! The long road thither +has not yet been drenched with the mingled blood of warring +brethren. Dreams! Idle dreams! Glory! Ambition! Southern +rights!</p> +<p>At Stockton, Valois receives tidings from Padre Francisco. +Clouds are settling down on Lagunitas. Squatters are taking +advantage of the defenceless old Mexican. If the Don would save +his broad acres, he must appear in the law-courts of the +conquerors.</p> +<p>Alas! the good old days are gone, when the whole State of +California boasted not a single lawyer. These are new conditions. +The train of loyal retainers will never sweep again out of the +gates of Lagunitas, headed by the martial Commandante, in all the +bravery of rank and office. It is the newer day of gain and +greed.</p> +<p>Prospecting miners swarm over Mariposa. The butterflies are +driven from rocky knoll and fragrant bower by powder blasts. The +woods fall under the ringing axe of the squatter. Ignorant of new +laws and strange language; strong only in his rights; weak in +years, devoid of friends, Don Miguel's hope is the sage counsel +of Padre Francisco. The latter trusts to Valois' legal skill.</p> +<p>As adviser, Valois repairs to Lagunitas. Old patents, papers +heavy with antique seal and black with stately Spanish flourish, +are conned over. Lines are examined, witnesses probed, defensive +measures taken.</p> +<p>Maxime sits; catechizes the Don, the anxious Donna Juanita, +and the padre. Wandering by the shores of Lagunitas, Valois notes +the lovely reflection of the sweet-faced Dolores in the crystal +waters. The girl is fair and modest. Fran‡ois Ribaut often +wonders if the young man sees the rare beauty of the Spanish +maiden. If it would come to pass!</p> +<p>Over his beads, the padre murmurs, "It may be well. All well +in time."</p> +<p>The cause drags on slowly. After months, the famous case of +the Lagunitas rancho is fought and won.</p> +<p>But before its last coil has dragged out of the halls of +justice, harassed and broken in spirit, Don Miguel closes his +eyes upon the ruin of his race. Born to sorrow, Donna Juanita is +a mere shade of womanly sorrow. She is not without comfort, for +the last of the Peraltas has placed his child's hand in that of +Maxime Valois and whispered his blessing.</p> +<p>"You will be good to my little Dolores, amigo mio," murmurs +the old man. He loves the man whose lance has been couched in his +behalf. The man who saved his life and lands.</p> +<p>Padre Francisco is overjoyed. He noted the drawing near of the +young hearts. A grateful flash, lighting the shining eyes of +Dolores, told the story to Maxime. His defence of her father, his +championship of the family cause, his graceful demeanor fill +sweet Dolores' idea of the perfect "caballero."</p> +<p>The priest with bell, book, and candle, gives all the honors +of the Church to the last lord of Lagunitas. Hard by the chapel, +the old ranchero rests surrounded by the sighing forest. It is +singing the same unvarying song, breathing incense from the +altars of nature over the stout soldier's tomb.</p> +<p>He has fought the fight of his race in vain. When the roses' +leaves drift a second time on the velvet turf, Maxime Valois +receives the hand of Dolores from her mother. The union is +blessed by the invocation of his priestly friend. It is a simple +wedding. Bride and groom are all in all to each other. There are +none of the Valois, and not a Peralta to join in merrymaking.</p> +<p>Padre Francisco and Donna Juanita are happy in the knowledge +that the shy bird of the mountains is mated with the falcon-eyed +Creole. He can defend the lordly heritage of Lagunitas. So, in +the rosy summer time, the foot of the stranger passes as master +over the threshold of the Don's home. The superb domain passes +under the dominion of the American. One by one the old holdings +of the Californian families pass away. The last of the Dons, +sleeping in the silence of the tomb, are spared the bitterness of +seeing their quaint race die out. The foreigner is ruling within +their gates. Their unfortunate, scattered, and doomed children +perish in the attrition of a newer civilization.</p> +<p>Narrow-minded, but hospitable; stately and loyal; indifferent +to the future, suspicious of foreigners, they are utterly unable +to appreciate progress. They are powerless to develop or guard +their domains. Abandoned by Mexico, preyed on by squatters, these +courtly old rancheros are now a memory of the past.</p> +<p>This wedding brings life to Lagunitas. The new suzerain +organizes a working force. It is the transition period of +California. Hundreds of thousands of acres only wait for the +magic artesian well to smile in plenty. Valois gathers up the +reins. Only a few pensioners remain. The nomadic cavalry of the +natives has disappeared. The suggestion of "work" sets them "en +route." They drift towards the Mexican border. The flocks and +herds are guarded by corps of white attendants. The farm succeeds +the ranch.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois gives his wife her first sight of the Queen +City. The formalities of receiving the "patent" call him to San +Francisco.</p> +<p>Padre Francisco remains with Donna Juanita. The new rule is +represented by "Kaintuck," an energetic frontiersman, whose vast +experience in occasional warfare and frequent homicide is a +guarantee of finally holding possession. This worthy left all his +scruples at home in Kentucky, with his proper appellation. He is +a veteran ranger.</p> +<p>As yet the lands yield no regular harvests. The +ten-leagues-square tract produces less fruit, garden produce, and +edibles, than a ten-acre Pennsylvania field in the Wyoming. But +the revenue is large from the cattle and horses. The cattle are +as wild as deer. The horses are embodiments of assorted "original +sin," and as agile as mountain goats. Valois knows, however, the +income will be ample for general improvements.</p> +<p>His policy matures. He encourages the settlement of +Southerners. He rents in subdivisions his spare lands.</p> +<p>The Creole, now a landlord, hears the wails of short-sighted +men. They mourn the green summers, the showery months of the +East. Moping in idleness, they assert that California will +produce neither cereal crops, fruits, nor vegetables. Prophets, +indeed! The golden hills look bare and drear to strangers' eyes. +The brown plains please not.</p> +<p>In the great realm, apples, potatoes, wheat, corn, the general +cereals and root crops are supposed to be impossible productions. +Gold, wild cattle, and wilder mustangs are the returns of El +Dorado. Cultivation is in its infancy.</p> +<p>The master departs with the dark-eyed bride. She timidly +follows his every wish. Dolores has the education imparted by +gentle Padre Francisco. It makes her capable of mentally +expanding in the experiences of the first journey. The gentle +refinement of her race completes her charms.</p> +<p>To the bride, the steamer, the sights of the bay, crowded with +shipping, and the pageantry of the city are dazzling. The +luxuries of city life are wonders. Relying on her husband, she +glides into her new position. Childishly pleased at the jewels, +ornaments, and toilets soon procured in the metropolis, Donna +Dolores Valois is soon one of Eve's true daughters, arrayed like +the lily.</p> +<p>Months roll away. The stimulus of a brighter life develops the +girl wife into a sweetly radiant woman.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois rejoins Philip Hardin. He is now a judge of the +Supreme Court. Stormy days are these of 1855 and the spring of +1856.</p> +<p>Deep professional intrigues busy Valois. Padre Francisco and +"Kaintuck" announce the existence of supposed quartz mines on the +rancho. Valois will not pause in his occupations to risk +explorations.</p> +<p>For the Kansas strife, the warring of sections, and the +growing bitterness of free and slave State men make daily life a +seething cauldron. Southern settlers are pouring into the +interior. They shun the cities. In city and country, squatter +wars, over lot and claim, excite the community. San Francisco is +a hotbed of politicians and roughs of the baser sort. While the +Southerners generally control the Federal and State offices, +Hardin feels the weakness in their lines has been the +journalistic front of their party. Funds are raised. Pro-slavery +journals spring into life. John Nugent, Pen Johnston, and O'Meara +write with pens dipped in gall, and the ready pistol at hand. +Tumult and fracas disgrace bench, bar, legislature, and general +society. The great wars of Senators Gwin and Broderick precede +the separation of Northern and Southern Democrats. As the summer +of 1856 draws on, corruption, violence, and sectional hatred +bitterly divide all citizens. School and Church, journal and +law-giver, work for the right. The strain on the community +increases. While the coast and interior is dotted with cities and +towns, and the Mint pours out floods of ringing gold coins, there +is no confidence. Farm and factory, ship and wagon train, new +streets, extension of the city and material progress show every +advancement. But a great gulf yawns between the human wave of old +adventurers, and the home-makers, now sturdily battling for the +inevitable victory.</p> +<p>The plough is speeding in a thousand furrows everywhere. +Cattle and flocks are being graded and improved. Far-sighted men +look to franchise and public association. The day dawns when the +giant gaming hells, flaunting palaces of sin, and the violent +army of miscreants must be suppressed.</p> +<p>Everywhere, California shows the local irritation between the +buccaneers of the first days, and the resolute, respectable +citizens. The latter are united in this local cause, though soon +to divide politically on the battle-field.</p> +<p>Driven from their lucrative vices of old, the depraved +element, at the polls, overawes decency. San Francisco's long +wooden wharves, its precipitous streets, its crowded haunts of +the transient, and its flashy places of low amusement harbor a +desperate gang. They are renegades, deserters, and scum of every +seaport—graduates of all human villany. Aided by +demagogues, the rule of the "Roughs" nears its culmination. Fire +companies, militia, train bands, and the police, are rotten to +the core. In this upheaval, affecting only the larger towns, the +higher classes are powerless.</p> +<p>Cut off, by the great plains, from the central government, the +State is almost devoid of telegraphs and has but one little +railroad. It has hostile Indians yet on its borders. The Chinese +come swarming in like rats. The situation of California is +critical.</p> +<p>Personal duels and disgraceful quarrels convulse high life. +The lower ranks are ruled only by the revolver. The criminal +stalks boldly, unpunished, in the streets.</p> +<p>The flavor of Americanism is no leaven to this ill-assorted +population. The exciting presidential campaign, in which Fremont +leads a new party, excites and divides the better citizens of the +commonwealth.</p> +<p>Though the hills are now studded with happy homes and the +native children of the Golden West are rising in promise, all is +unrest. A local convulsion turns the anger of better elements +into the revolution of the Vigilance Committee of 1856. James +Casey's pistol rang out the knell of the "Roughs" when he +murdered the fearless editor of the leading journal.</p> +<p>Valois, uninterested in this urban struggle, returns to +Lagunitas. His domain rewards his energy.</p> +<p>All is peace by the diamond lake. Senora Dolores, her tutor, +Padre Francisco, and the placid Duenna Juanita make up a pleasant +home circle. It is brightened by luxuries provided by the new +lord. Maxime Valois' voice is heard through the valleys. He +travels in support of James Buchanan, the ante-bellum President. +For is not John C. Breckinridge, the darling son of the South, as +vice-president also a promise of Southern success?</p> +<p>San Francisco throws off its criminals by a spasmodic effort. +The gallows tree has borne its ghastly fruit. Fleeing "Roughs" +are self-expatriated. Others are unceremoniously shipped abroad. +The Vigilance Committee rules. This threshing out of the chaff +gives the State a certain dignity. At least, an effort has been +made to purge the community. All in all, good +results—though a Judge of the Supreme Court sleeps in a +guarded cell as a prisoner of self-elected vindicators of the +law.</p> +<p>When the excitement of the presidential election subsides, +Maxime Valois joins the banquets of the Democratic victors. The +social atmosphere is purer. Progress marks the passing months. +The State springs forward toward the second decade of its +existence. There is local calm, while the national councils +potter over the Pacific railways. Valois knows that the great day +of Secession approaches. The Sons of the South will soon raise +the banner of the Southern Cross. He knows the purposes of the +cabinet, selected by the conspirators who surround Buchanan. +Spring sees the great departments of the government given over to +those who work for the South. They will arrange government +offices, divide the army, scatter the navy, juggle the treasury +and prepare for the coming storm. The local bitterness heightens +into quarrels over spoils. Judge Philip Hardin, well-versed in +the Secession plots, feeds the ever-burning pride of Valois. From +Kansas, from court and Congress, from the far East, the murmur of +the "irrepressible conflict" grows nearer. Maxime Valois is in +correspondence with the head of his family. While at Lagunitas, +the Creole pushes on his works of improvement. He dreams at night +strange dreams of more brilliant successes. Of a new flag and the +triumph of the beloved cause. He will be called as a trusted +Southron into the councils of the coast. Will they cut it off +under the Lone Star flag? This appeals to his ambition.</p> +<p>There are omens everywhere. The Free-State Democrats must be +suppressed. The South must and shall rule.</p> +<p>He often dreams if war and tumult will ever roll, in flame and +fire, over the West. The mists of the future veil his eyes. He +waits the signal from the South. All over California, the wealth +of the land peeps through its surface gilding. There are no +clouds yet upon the local future. No burning local questions at +issue here, save the aversion of the two sections, distrustful of +each other.</p> +<p>It needs only the mad attack of John Brown upon Virginia's +slave-keepers to loose the passions of the dwellers by the +Pacific. Martyr or murderer, sage or fanatic, Brown struck the +blows which broke the bonds of the brotherhood of the Revolution. +From the year 1858, the breach becomes too great to bridge. +Secretly, Southern plans are perfected to control the West. While +the conspiracy slowly moves on, the haughtiness of private +intercourse admits of no peaceable reunion. Active correspondence +between officials, cool calculations of future resources, and the +elevation to prominent places of men pledged to the South, are +the rapid steps of the maturing plans. On the threshold of +war.</p> +<p>For the senators, representatives, and agents in Washington +confidentially report that the code of honor is needed to +restrain the Northerners under personal dragooning. Yankee +self-assertion comes at last.</p> +<p>Around the real leaders of thought their vassals are ranged. +Davis, Toombs, Breckinridge, Yancey, Pryor, Wigfall, Wise, and +others direct. Herbert, Keith, Lamar, Brooks, and a host of +cavaliers are ready with trigger and cartel. The tone at +Washington gives the keynote to the Californian agents of the +Southern Rights movement. There are not enough Potters, Wades, +and Landers, as yet. The Northern mind needs time to realize the +deliberation of Secession.</p> +<p>The great leaders of the free States are dead or in the gloomy +retirement of age. Webster and Clay are no more. There are yet +men of might to fight under the banners streaming with the +northern lights of freedom. Douglas, Bell, Sumner, Seward, and +Wade are drawing together. Grave-faced Abraham Lincoln moves out +of the background of Western woods into the sunrise glow of +Liberty's brightest day.</p> +<p>On the Pacific coast, restraint has never availed. Here, +ancestry and rank go for naught. Here, men meet without class +pride. The struggle is more equal.</p> +<p>California's Senator, David C. Broderick, was the son of an +humble New York stone-cutter. He grapples with his wily +colleague, Senator Gwin.</p> +<p>It is hammer against rapier. Richard and Saladin. Beneath the +banners of the chieftains the free lances of the Pacific range +themselves. Neither doubts the courage of the opposing forces. +The blood of the South has already followed William Walker, the +gray-eyed man of destiny, to Sonora and Nicaragua. They were a +splendid band of modern buccaneers. Henry A. Crabbe found that +the Mexican escopetas are deadly in the hands of the maddened +inhabitants of Arispe. Raousset de Boulbon sees his Southern +followers fall under machete and revolver in northern Mexico. The +Southern filibusters are superbly reckless. All are eager to +repeat the glories of Texas and Mexico. They find that the +Spanish races of Central America have learned bitter lessons from +the loss of Texas. They know of the brutal conquest of +California. The cry of "Muerte los Americanos!" rings from Tucson +to Darien. The labors of conquest are harder now for the +self-elected generalissimos of these robber bands. "Extension of +territory" is a diplomatic euphemism for organized descents of +desperate murderers. The wholesome lessons of the slaughter in +Sonora, the piles of heads at Arispe, and the crowded graves of +Rivas and Castillo, with the executions in Cuba, prove to the +ambitious Southrons that they will receive from the Latins a +"bloody welcome to hospitable graves."</p> +<p>As the days glide into weeks and months, the thirst for blood +of the martial generation overcrowding the South is manifest. On +the threshold of grave events the leaders of Southern Rights +restrain further foreign attempts. The chivalry is now needed at +home. Foiled in Cuba and Central America, restrained by the +general government from a new aggressive movement on Mexico, they +decide to turn their faces to the North. They will carve out a +new boundary line for slavery.</p> +<p>The natural treasury of the country is an object of especial +interest. To break away peaceably is hardly possible. But slavery +needs more ground for the increasing blacks. It must be toward +the Pacific that the new Confederacy will gain ground. Gold, sea +frontage, Asiatic trade, forests and fisheries,—all these +must come to the South. It is the final acquisition of +California. It was APPARENTLY for the Union, but REALLY for the +South, that the complacent Polk pounced upon California. He waged +a slyly prepared war on Mexico for slavery.</p> +<p>As the restraints of courtesy and fairness are thrown off at +Washington, sectional hostilities sweep over to the Western +coast. The bitterness becomes intense. Pressing to the front, +champions of both North and South meet in private encounters. +They admit of neither evasion nor retreat.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois is ready to shed his blood for the land of the +palmetto. But he will not degrade himself by low intrigue or +vulgar encounter.</p> +<p>He learns without regret of the extinction of the filibusters +in Sonora, on the Mexican coast, Cuba, and Central America. He +knows it is mad piracy.</p> +<p>Valois sorrows not when William Walker's blood slakes the +stones of the plaza at Truxillo. A consummation devoutly to be +wished.</p> +<p>It is for the whole South he would battle. It is the glorious +half of the greatest land on the globe. For HER great rights, +under HER banner, for State sovereignty he would die. On some +worthy field, he would lead the dauntless riflemen of Louisiana +into the crater of death.</p> +<p>THERE, would be the patriot's pride and the soldier's guerdon +of valor. He would be in the van of such an uprising. He scorns +to be a petty buccaneer, a butcher of half-armed natives, a rover +and a robber. In every scene, through the days of 1859, Valois +bears himself as a cavalier. Personal feud was not his +object.</p> +<p>In the prominence of his high position, Valois travels the +State. He confers with the secret councils at San Francisco. He +is ready to lead in his regions when needed. The dark cabal of +Secession sends out trusty secret agents, even as Gillespie and +Larkin called forth the puppets of Polk, Buchanan and Marcy to +action. Valois hopes his friends can seize California for the +South. Fenced off from Oregon and the East by the Sierras, there +is the open connection with the South by Arizona.</p> +<p>A few regiments of Texan horse can hold this great gold-field +for the South. Valois deems it impossible for California to be +recaptured if once won. He knows that Southern agents are ready +to stir up the great tribes of the plains against the Yankees. +The last great force, the United States Navy, is to be removed. +Philip Hardin tells him how the best ships of the navy are being +dismantled, or ordered away to foreign stations. Great frigates +are laid up in Southern navy-yards. Ordnance supplies and +material are pushed toward the Gulf. Appropriations are expended +to aid these plans. The leaders of the army, now scattered under +Southern commanders, are ready to turn over to the South the +whole available national material of war. Never dreaming of aught +but success, Valois fears only that he may be assigned to Western +duties. This will keep him from the triumphal marches over the +North. He may miss the glories of that day when Robert Toombs +calls the roll of his blacks at Bunker Hill Monument. In the +prime of life and vigor of mind, he is rich. He has now a tiny +girl child, gladdening sweet Senora Dolores. His domain blossoms +like the rose. Valois has many things to tie him to San Joaquin. +His princely possessions alone would satisfy any man. But he +would leave all this to ride with the Southern hosts in their +great northward march. Dolores sits often lonely now, on the +porch of the baronial residence which has grown up around the +Don's old adobe mansion. Her patient mother lies under the roses, +by the side of Don Miguel.</p> +<p>Padre Francisco, wearied of the mental death in life of these +lonely hills, has delayed his return to France only by the +appeals of Maxime Valois. He wants a friend at Lagunitas if he +takes the field. If he should be called East, who would watch +over his wife and child? Fran‡ois Ribaut, a true Frenchman +at heart, looks forward to some quiet cloister, where he can see +once more the twin towers of Notre Dame. The golden dome of the +Invalides calls him back. He sadly realizes that his life has +been uselessly wasted. The Indians are either cut off, chased +away, or victims of fatal diseases. The Mexicans have fallen to +low estate. Their numbers are trifling. He has no flock. He is +only a lonely shepherd. With the Americans his gentle words avail +nothing. The Catholics of the cities have brought a newer Church +hierarchy with them. "Home to France," is his longing now.</p> +<p>In the interior, quarrels bring about frequent personal +encounters between political disputants. The Northern +sympathizers, stung by jeer, and pushed to the wall, take up +their weapons and stand firm—a new fire in their eyes. The +bravos of slavery meet fearless adversaries. In the cities, the +wave of political bitterness drowns all friendly impulses. Every +public man takes his life in his hand. The wars of Broderick and +Gwin, Field and Terry, convulse the State. Lashed into imprudence +by each other's attacks, David C. Broderick and David S. Terry +look into each other's pistols. They stand face to face in the +little valley by Merced Lake. Sturdy Colton, and warm-hearted Joe +McKibbin, second the fearless Broderick. Hayes and the chivalric +Calhoun Benham are the aids of the lion-hearted Terry. It is a +meeting of giants. Resolution against deadly nerve. Brave even to +rashness, both of them know it is the first blood of the fight +between South and North. Benham does well as, with theatrical +flourish, he casts Terry's money on the sod. The grass is soon to +be stained with the blood of a leader. This is no mere money +quarrel. It is a duel to the death; a calm assertion of the fact +that neither in fray, in the forum, nor on the battle-field, will +the North go back one inch. It is high time.</p> +<p>Broderick, the peer of his superb antagonist, knows that the +pretext of Terry's challenge is a mere excuse. It is first blood +in the inevitable struggle for the western coast. With no delay, +the stout-hearted champions, friends once, stand as foes in +conflict. David Terry's ball cuts the heart-strings of a man who +had been his loving political brother. His personal friend once +and a gallant comrade. Broderick's blood marks the fatal +turning-off of the Northern Democrats from their Southern +brothers. As Terry lowers his pistol, looking unpityingly at the +fallen giant, he does not realize he has cut the cords tying the +West to the South. It was a fatal deed, this brother's murder. It +was the mistake of a life, hitherto high in purpose. The +implacable Terry would have shuddered could he have looked over +the veiled mysteries of thirty years to come. It was beyond human +ken. Even he might have blenched at the strange life-path fate +would lead him over. Over battle-fields where the Southern Cross +rises and falls like Mokanna's banner, back across deserts, to +die under the deadly aim of an obscure minion of the government +he sought to pull down. After thirty years, David S. Terry, +judge, general, and champion of the South, was destined to die at +the feet of his brother-judge, whose pathway inclined Northwardly +from that ill-starred moment.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois saw in the monster memorial meeting on the +plaza, that the cause of the South was doomed in the West. While +Baker's silver voice rises in eulogy over Broderick, the +Louisianian sees a menace in the stern faces of twenty thousand +listeners. The shade of the murdered mechanic-senator hovers at +their local feast, a royal Banquo, shadowy father of political +kings yet to be.</p> +<p>The clarion press assail the awful deed. Boldly, the opponents +of slavery draw out in the community. There is henceforth no room +for treason on the Western coast. Only covert conspiracy can +neutralize the popular wave following Broderick's death. +Dissension rages until the fever of the Lincoln campaign excites +the entire community. The pony express flying eastward, the +rapidly approaching telegraph, the southern overland mail with +the other line across the plains, bring the news of Eastern +excitement. Election battles, Southern menace, and the tidings of +the triumph of Republican principles, reach the Pacific. Abraham +Lincoln is the elected President.</p> +<p>Valois is heavy-hearted when he learns of the victory of +freedom at the polls. He would be glad of some broad question on +which to base the coming war. His brow is grave, as he realizes +the South must now bring on at moral disadvantage the conflict. +The war will decide the fate of slavery. Broderick's untimely +death and the crushing defeat of the elections are bad omens. It +is with shame he learns of the carefully laid plots to seduce +leading officers of the army and navy. The South must bribe over +officials, and locate government property for the use of the +conspirators. It labors with intrigue and darkness, to prepare +for what he feels should be a gallant defiance. It should be only +a solemn appeal to the god of battles.</p> +<p>He sadly arranges his personal affairs, to meet the +separations of the future. He sits with his lovely, graceful +consort, on the banks of Lagunitas. He is only waiting the +throwing-off of the disguise which hides the pirate gun-ports of +the cruiser, Southern Rights. The hour comes before the roses +bloom twice over dead Broderick, on the stately slopes of Lone +Mountain.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>BOOK III. — GOING HOME TO DIXIE: STARS AND STRIPES, OR +STARS AND BARS?</h2> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER X. — A LITTLE DINNER AT JUDGE +HARDIN'S.—THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN CIRCLE.</h2> +<p>The rain drips drearily around Judge Hardin's spacious +residence in San Francisco. January, 1861, finds the sheltering +trees higher. The embowered shade hides to-night an unusual +illumination. Winter breezes sigh through the trees. Showers of +spray fall from acacia and vine. As the wet fog drives past, the +ship-lights on the bay are almost hidden. When darkness brings +out sweeping lines of the street-lamps, many carriages roll up to +the open doors.</p> +<p>A circle of twenty or thirty intimates gathers in the great +dining-room. At the head of the table, Hardin welcomes the chosen +representatives of the great Southern conspiracy in the West. His +residence, rarely thrown open to the public, has grown with the +rise of his fortunes. Philip Hardin must be first in every +attribute of a leading judge and publicist. Lights burn late here +since the great election of 1860. Men who are at the helm of +finance, politics, and Federal power are visitors. Editors and +trusted Southrons drop in, by twos and threes, secretly. There is +unwonted social activity.</p> +<p>The idle gossips are silent. These visitors are all men, +unaccompanied by their families. Woman's foot never crosses this +threshold. In the wings of the mansion, a lovely face is +sometimes seen at a window. It is a reminder of the stories of +that concealed beauty who has reigned years in the mansion on the +hill.</p> +<p>Is it a marriage impending? Is it some great scheme? Some new +monetary institution to be launched?</p> +<p>These vain queries remain unanswered. There is a mystic +password given before joining the feast. Southerners, tried and +true, are the diners. Maxime Valois sits opposite his associate. +It is not only a hospitable welcome the Judge extends, but the +mystic embrace of the Knights of the Golden Circle. In feast and +personal enjoyment the moments fly by. The table glitters with +superb plate. It is loaded with richest wines and the dainties of +the fruitful West. The board rings under emphatic blows of men +who toast, with emphasis, the "Sunny South." In their flowing +cups, old and new friends are remembered. There is not one glass +raised to the honor of the starry flag which yet streams out +boldly at the Golden Gate.</p> +<p>The feast is of conspirators who are sworn to drag that flag +at their horses' heels in triumph. Men nurtured under it.</p> +<p>Judge Hardin gives the signal of departure for the main hall. +In an hour or so they are joined by others who could not attend +the feast.</p> +<p>The meeting of the Knights of the Golden Circle proceeds with +mystic ceremony. The windows, doors, and avenues are guarded. In +the grounds faithful brothers watch for any sneaking spy. Every +man is heavily armed. It would be short shrift to the foe who +stumbles on this meeting of deadly import.</p> +<p>It is the supreme moment to impart the last orders of the +Southern leaders. The Washington chiefs assign the duties of +each, in view of the violent rupture which will follow Lincoln's +inauguration.</p> +<p>Fifty or sixty in number, these brave and desperate souls are +ready to cast all in jeopardy. Life, fortune, and fame. They +represent every city and county of California.</p> +<p>Hardin, high priest of this awful propaganda, opens the +business of the session with a cool statement of facts. Every man +is now sworn and under obligation to the work. Hardin's eye +kindles as he sees these brothers of the Southern Cross. Each of +them has a dozen friends or subordinates under him. To them these +tidings will be only divulged under the awful seal of the death +penalty. There are scores of army and navy officers with high +civil officials on the coast whose finely drawn scruples will +keep them out until the first gun is fired, Then these powerful +allies, freed by resignation, can come in. They are holding +places of power and immense importance to the last. The Knights +are wealthy, powerful, and desperate.</p> +<p>As Valois hears Hardin's address, he appreciates the labor of +years, in weaving the network which is to hold California, +Arizona, and New Mexico for the South. Utah and Nevada are +untenanted deserts. The Mormon regions are neutral and only +useful as a geographical barrier to Eastern forces. Oregon and +Washington are to be ignored. There the hardy woodsmen and rugged +settlers represent the ingrained "freedom worship" of the +Northwest. They are farmers and lumbermen. All acknowledge it +useless to tempt them out of the fold. Oregon's star gleams now +firmly fixed in the banner of Columbia. And the great Sierras +fence them off.</p> +<p>The speaker announces that each member of the present circle +will be authorized, on returning, to organize and extend the +circles of the Order. Notification of matters of moment will be +made by qualified members, from circle to circle. Thus, orders +will pass quickly over the State. The momentous secrets cannot be +trusted to mail, express, or the local telegraphs.</p> +<p>Hardin calls up member after member, to give their views. The +general plan is discussed by the circle. Keen-eyed secretaries +note and arrange opinions and remarks.</p> +<p>Hardin announces that all arrangements are made to use all +initiated members going East as bearers of despatches. They are +available for special interviews, with the brothers who are in +every large Northern city and even in the principal centres of +Europe.</p> +<p>Ample funds have been forthcoming from the liberal leaders of +the local movement. Millions are already promised by the branches +at the East.</p> +<p>Wild cheers hail Judge Hardin's address. He outlines the +policy, so artfully laid out, for the cut-off Western contingent. +In foaming wine, the fearless coterie pledges the South till the +rafters ring again. The "Bonnie Blue Flag" rings out, as it does +in many Western households, with "Dixie's" thrilling strains.</p> +<p>The summing up of Hardin is concise: "We are to hold this +State until we have orders to open hostilities. Our numbers must +not be reduced by volunteers going East. Our presence will keep +the Yankee troops from going East. We want the gold of the mines +here, to sustain our finances. We have as commanding General, +Albert Sidney Johnston, the ideal soldier of America, who will +command the Mississippi. Lee, Beauregard, and Joe Johnston will +operate in the East. The fight will be along the border lines. We +will capture Washington, and seize New York and Philadelphia. A +grand Southern army will march from Richmond to Boston. Another +from Nashville to Cincinnati and Chicago. Johnston will hold on +here, until forced to resign. Many officers go with him. We shall +know of this, and throw ourselves on the arsenals and forts here, +capturing the stores and batteries. The militia and independent +companies will come over to us at once. With Judge Downey, a +Democratic governor, no levies will be called out against us. The +navy is all away, or in our secret control. Once in possession of +this State, we will fortify the Sierra Nevada passes. We are +prepared. Congress has given us $600,000 a year to keep up the +Southern overland mail route. It runs through slave-holding +territory to Arizona. Every station and relay has been laid out +to suit us. We will have trusty friends and supplies, clear +through Arizona and over the Colorado. At the outbreak, we will +seize the whole system. It is the shortest and safest line."</p> +<p>Hardin, lauding the skilful plans of a complacent Cabinet +officer, did not know that the Southern idea was to connect +Memphis direct with Los Angeles.</p> +<p>It was loyal John Butterfield of New York, who artfully bid +for a DOUBLE service from Memphis and St. Louis, uniting at Fort +Smith, Arkansas, and virtually defeated this sly move of +slavery.</p> +<p>Judge Hardin, pausing in pride, could not foresee that Daniel +Butterfield, the gallant son of a loyal sire, would meet the +chivalry of the South as the Marshal of the greatest field of +modern times—awful Gettysburg!</p> +<p>While Hardin plotted in the West, Daniel Butterfield in the +East personally laid out every detail of this great service, so +as to checkmate the Southern design, were the Mississippi given +over to loyal control.</p> +<p>The afterwork of Farragut and Porter paralyzed the Southern +line of advance; and on the Peninsula, at Fredericksburg, at +Resaca and Chancellorsville, Major-General Daniel Butterfield met +in arms many of the men who listened to Hardin's gibes as to the +outwitted Yankee mail contractors.</p> +<p>Hardin, complacent, and with no vision of the awful fields to +come, secure in his well-laid plans, resumes:</p> +<p>"Thus aided through Arizona we will admit a strong column of +Texan dragoons. We shall take Fort Yuma, Fort Mojave, and the +forts in Arizona, as well as Forts Union and Craig in New Mexico. +We will then be able to control the northern overland road. We +will hold the southern line, and our forces will patrol Arizona. +Mexico will furnish us ports and supplies.</p> +<p>"Should the Northerners attempt to push troops over the +plains, we will attack them, in flank, from New Mexico. We can +hold, thus, New Mexico, Arizona, southern Utah, and all of +California, by our short line from El Paso to San Diego. We are +covered on one flank by Mexico."</p> +<p>The able brethren are ready with many suggestions. Friendly +spies in the Department at Washington have announced the intended +drawing East of the regular garrisons. It is suggested that the +forts, and in fact the whole State, be seized while the troops +are in transit.</p> +<p>Another proposes the fitting out of several swift armed steam +letters-of-marque from San Francisco, to capture the enormous +Yankee tonnage now between China, Cape Horn, Australia, and +California. The whaling fleet is the object of another. He +advises sending a heavily armed revenue cutter, when seized, to +the Behring Sea to destroy the spring whalers arriving from +Honolulu too late for any warning, from home, of the +hostilities.</p> +<p>A number of active committees are appointed. One, of veteran +rangers, to select frontiersmen to stir up the Indians to attack +the northern overland mail stations. Another, to secretly confer +with the officers of the United States Mint, Custom-House, and +Sub-Treasury. Another, to socially engage the leading officers of +the army and navy, and win them over, or develop their real +feelings. Every man of mark in the State is listed and +canvassed.</p> +<p>The "high priest" announces that the families of those +detailed for distant duty will be cared for by the general +committee. Each member receives the mystic tokens. Orders are +issued to trace up all stocks of arms and ammunition on the +coast.</p> +<p>The seizure of the Panama Railroad, thus cutting off quick +movement of national troops, is discussed. Every man is ordered +to send in lists of trusty men as soon as mustered into the new +mystery. Convenient movements of brothers from town to town are +planned out. Only true sons of the sunny South are to be +trusted.</p> +<p>In free converse, the duty of watching well-known Unionists is +enjoined upon all. Name by name, dangerous men of the North are +marked down for proscription or special action. "Removal," +perhaps.</p> +<p>With wild cheers, the Knights of the Golden Circle receive the +news that the South is surely going out. The dream long dear to +the Southern heart! Any attempt of the senile Buchanan to +reinforce the garrisons of the national forts will be the signal +for the opening roar of the stolen guns. They know that the +inauguration of Lincoln on March 4, 1861, means war without +debate. He dare not abandon his trust. He will be welcomed with a +shotted salute across the Potomac.</p> +<p>When the move "en masse" is made, the guests, warmed with wine +and full of enthusiasm, file away. Hardin and Valois sit late. +The splashing rain drenches the swaying trees of the Judge's +hillside retreat.</p> +<p>Lists and papers of the principal men on both sides, data and +statistics of stock and military supplies, maps, and papers, are +looked at. The deep boom of the Cathedral bell, far below them, +beats midnight as the two friends sit plotting treason.</p> +<p>There is something mystical in the exact hour of midnight. The +rich note startles Hardin. Cold, haughty, crafty, and able, his +devotion to the South is that of the highest moral courage. It is +not the exultation which culminates rashly on the battle-field. +These lurid scenes are for younger heroes.</p> +<p>His necessary presence in the West, his age and rank, make him +invaluable, out of harness. His scheming brain is needed, not his +ready sword.</p> +<p>He pours out a glass of brandy, saying, "Valois, tell me of +our prospects here. You know the interior as well as any man in +the State."</p> +<p>Maxime unburdens his mind. "Judge, I fear we are in danger of +losing this coast. I have looked over the social forces of the +State. The miners represent no principle. They will cut no figure +on either side. They would not be amenable to discipline. The +Mexicans certainly will not sympathize with us. We are regarded +as the old government party. The Black Republicans are the +'liberals.' The natives have lost all, under us. We will find +them fierce enemies. We cannot undo the treatment of the Dons." +Hardin gravely assents.</p> +<p>"Now, as to the struggle. Our people are enthusiastic and +better prepared. The nerve of the South will carry us to early +victory. The North thinks we do not mean fight. Our people may +neglect to rush troops from Texas over through Arizona. We should +hold California from the very first. I know the large cities are +against us. The Yankees control the shipping and have more money +than we. We should seize this coast, prey on the Pacific fleets, +strike a telling blow, and with Texan troops (who will be useless +there) make sure of the only gold-yielding regions of America. +Texas is safe. We hold the Gulf at New Orleans. Yankee gunboats +cannot reach the shallow Texas harbors. Unless we strike boldly +now, the coast is lost forever. If our people hold the Potomac, +the Ohio, and the Missouri (after a season's victories), without +taking Cincinnati and Washington, and securing this coast, we +will go down, finally, when the North wakes up. Its power is +immense. If Europe recognizes us we are safe. I fear this may not +be."</p> +<p>"And you think the Northerners will fight," says Hardin.</p> +<p>"Judge," replies Valois, "you and I are alone. I tell you +frankly we underestimate the Yankees. From the first, on this +coast we have lost sympathy. They come back at us always. +Broderick's death shows us these men have nerve." Valois +continues: "That man is greater dead than alive. I often think of +his last words, 'They have killed me because I was opposed to a +corrupt administration and the extension of slavery.'"</p> +<p>Hardin finishes his glass. "It seems strange that men like +Broderick and Terry, who sat on the bench of the Supreme Court (a +senator and a great jurist), should open the game. It was +unlucky. It lost us the Northern Democrats. We would have been +better off if Dave Terry had been killed. He would have been a +dead hero. It would have helped us."</p> +<p>Valois shows that, in all the sectional duels and killings on +the coast, the South has steadily lost prestige. The victims were +more dangerous dead than alive. Gilbert, Ferguson, Broderick, and +others were costly sacrifices.</p> +<p>Hardin muses: "I think you are right, Maxime, in the main. Our +people are in the awkward position of fighting the Constitution, +and the old flag is a dead weight against us. We must take the +initiative in an unnecessary war. This Abe Lincoln is no mere mad +fool. I will send a messenger East, and urge that ten thousand +Texan cavalry be pushed right over to Arizona. We must seize the +coast. You are right! There is one obstacle, Valois, I cannot +conquer."</p> +<p>"What is that?" says Maxime.</p> +<p>"It is Sidney Johnston's military honor," thoughtfully says +Hardin. "He is no man to be played with. He will not act till he +has left the old army regularly. He will wait his commission from +our confederacy. He will then resign and go East."</p> +<p>"It will be too late," cries Valois. "We will be forgotten, +and so lose California."</p> +<p>"The worst is that the coast will stand neutral," says +Hardin.</p> +<p>"Now, Judge," Valois firmly answers, "I have heard to-night +talk of running up the 'bear flag,' 'the lone star,' 'the +palmetto banner,' or 'the flag of the California Republic,' on +the news of war. I hope they will not do so rashly."</p> +<p>"Why?" says Hardin.</p> +<p>"I think they will swing under the new flags on the same +pole," cries Valois, pacing the room. "If there is failure here, +I shall go East. Judge Valois offers me a Louisiana regiment. If +this war is fought out, I do not propose to live to see the +Southern Cross come down."</p> +<p>The Creole pauses before the Judge, who replies, "You must +stay here; we must get California out of the Union."</p> +<p>"If we do not, then the cause lies on Lone Mountain," says +Valois, pointing westward toward the spot where a tall shaft +already bears Broderick's name.</p> +<p>Hardin nods assent. "It was terrific, that appeal of Baker's," +he murmurs.</p> +<p>Both felt that Baker (now Senator from Oregon) would call up +the mighty shade of the New York leader. Neither could foresee +the career of the eulogist of Broderick, after his last matchless +appeals to an awakening North. That denunciation in the Senate +sent the departing Southern senators away, smarting under the +scorpion whip of his peerless invective. Baker was doomed to come +home cold in death from the red field of Ball's Bluff, and lie on +the historic hill, beside his murdered friend.</p> +<p>The plotters in the cold midnight hours then, the glow of +feeling fading away, say "Good-night." They part, looking out +over twinkling lights like the great camps soon to rise on +Eastern plain and river-bank. Will the flag of the South wave in +TRIUMPH HERE? Ah! Who can read the future?</p> +<p>Cut off from the East, the excited Californians burn in high +fever. The grim dice of fate are being cast. Slowly, the Northern +pine and Southern palm sway toward the crash of war. As yet only +journals hurl defiance at each other. Every day has its duties +for Hardin and Valois; they know that every regimental mess-room +is canvassed; each ship's ward-room is sounded; officers are +flattered and won over; woman lends her persuasive charms; high +promised rank follows the men who yield.</p> +<p>In these negotiations, no one dares to breed discontent among +the common soldiers and sailors. It is madness to hope to turn +the steady loyalty of the enlisted men. They are as true in both +services as the blue they wear. Nice distinctions begin at the +epaulet. Hardin and Valois are worn and thoughtful. The popular +tide of feelings is not for the South. Separation must be +effective, to rouse enthusiasm. The organization of the Knights +of the Golden Circle proceeds quickly, but events are +quicker.</p> +<p>The seven States partly out of the Union; the yet unfinished +ranks of the Southern Confederacy; the baffling questions of +compromise with the claims and rights of the South to national +property are agitated. The incredulous folly of the North and the +newspaper sympathy of the great Northern cities drag the whole +question of war slowly along. In the West (a month later in +news), the people fondly believe the bonds of the Union will not +be broken.</p> +<p>Many think the South will drop out quietly. Lincoln's policy +is utterly unknown. Distance has dulled the echo of the hostile +guns fired at the STAR OF THE WEST by armed traitors, on January +9, at Charleston.</p> +<p>Jefferson Davis's shadowy Confederacy of the same fatal date +is regarded as only a temporary menace to the Union. The great +border States are not yet in line.</p> +<p>Paltering old President Buchanan has found no warrant to draw +the nation's sword in defence of the outraged flag.</p> +<p>Congress is a camp of warring enemies. Even the conspirators +cling to their comfortable chairs.</p> +<p>It is hard to realize, by the blue Pacific, that the flag is +already down. No one knows the fatal dead line between "State" +and "Union."</p> +<p>So recruits come in slowly to the Knights of the Golden +Circle, in California. Secession is only a dark thunder-cloud, +hanging ominously in the sky. The red lightning of war lingers in +its sulphury bosom.</p> +<p>Hardin, Valois, and the Knights toil to secure their ends. +They know not that their vigorous foes have sent trusted +messengers speeding eastward to secure the removal of General +Albert Sidney Johnston. There is a Union League digging under +their works!</p> +<p>The four electoral votes of California cast for Lincoln tell +him the State is loyal. An accidental promotion of Governor +Latham to the Senate, places John G. Downey in the chair of +California. If not a "coercionist," he is certainly no "rebel." +The leaders of the Golden Circle feel that chivalry in the West +is crushed, unless saved by a "coup de main." McDougall is a war +senator. Latham, ruined by his prediction that California would +go South or secede alone, sinks into political obscurity. The +revolution, due to David Terry's bullet, brought men like Phelps, +Sargent, T. W. Park, and John Conness to the front. Other +Free-State men see the victory of their principles with joy. +Sidney Johnston is the last hope of the Southern leaders. The old +soldier's resignation speeds eastward on the pony express. Day by +day, exciting news tells of the snapping of cord after cord. +Olden amity disappears in the East. The public voice is +heard.</p> +<p>The mantle of heroic Baker as a political leader falls upon +the boy preacher, Thomas Starr King. He boldly raises the song of +freedom. It is now no time to lurk in the rear. Men, hitherto +silent; rally around the flag.</p> +<p>The "Union League" grows fast, as the "Golden Circle" extends. +All over California, resolute men swear to stand by the flag. +Stanford and Low are earning their governorships. From pulpit and +rostrum the cry of secession is raised by Dr. Scott and the legal +meteor Edmund Randolph, now sickening to his death. Randolph, +though a son of Virginia, with, first, loyal impulses, sent +despatches to President Lincoln that California was to be turned +over to the South. He disclosed that Jefferson Davis had already +sent Sidney Johnston a Major-General's commission. Though he +finally follows the course of his native State, Randolph rendered +priceless service to the Union cause in the West. General Edward +V. Sumner is already secretly hurrying westward. He is met at +Panama by the Unionist messengers. They turn back with him. In +every city and county the Unionists and Southerners watch each +other. While Johnston's resignation flies eastward, Sumner is +steaming up the Mexican coast, unknown to the conspirators.</p> +<p>In the days of March and April, 1861, one excited man could +have plunged the Pacific Coast into civil warfare. All +unconscious of the deadly gun bellowing treason on April 12th at +Charleston, as the first shell burst over Sumter, the situation +remained one of anxious tension in California. The telegraph is +not yet finished. On April 19th, General Sumner arrived +unexpectedly. He was informed of local matters by the loyalists. +General Sidney Johnston, astonished and surprised, turned over +his command at once. Without treasonable attempt, he left the +Golden Gate. When relieved, he was no longer in the service. +Speeding over the Colorado deserts to Texas, the high-minded +veteran rode out to don the new gray uniform, and to die in the +arms of an almost decisive victory at Shiloh.</p> +<p>Well might the South call that royal old soldier to lead its +hosts. Another half hour of Albert Sidney Johnston at Shiloh, and +the history of the United States might have been changed by his +unconquered sword. Lofty in his aims, adored by his subordinates, +he was a modern Marshal Ney. The Southern cypress took its +darkest tinge around his untimely grave. Sidney Johnston had all +the sterling qualities of Lee, and even a rarer magnetism of +character.</p> +<p>Honor placed one fadeless wreath upon his tomb. He would not +play the ignoble part of a Twiggs or a Lynde. He offered a +stainless sword to the Bonnie Blue Flag.</p> +<p>The gravity of his farewell, the purity of his private +character, the affection of his personal friends, are tributes to +the great soldier. He nearly crushed the Union army in his +tiger-like assault at Shiloh. By universal consent, the ablest +soldier of the "old army," he was sacrificed to the waywardness +of fate. Turns of Fortune's wheel.</p> +<p>California was stunned by the rapidity of Sumner's grasp of +the reins of command. Before the Knights of the Golden Circle +could move, the control of the State and the coast was lost to +them forever. Forts and arsenals, towns and government +depositories, navy-yards and vessels, were guarded.</p> +<p>Following this action of Sumner, on May 10th the news of +Sumter, and the uprising of the North, burst upon friend and foe +in California. The loyal men rallied in indignation, overawing +the Southern element. The oath of fealty was renewed by +thousands. California's star was that day riveted in the flag. An +outraged people deposed Judge Hardy, who so feebly prosecuted the +slayer of Broderick. Every avenue was guarded. Conspiracy fled to +back rooms and side streets. Here were no Federal wrongs to +redress. On the spot where Broderick's body lay, under Baker's +oratory, the multitude listened to the awakened patriots of the +West. The Pacific Coast was saved.</p> +<p>The madness of fools who fluttered a straggling "bear flag," +"palmetto ensign," or "lone star," caused them to flee in +terror.</p> +<p>Stanley, Lake, Crockett, Starr King, General Shields, and +others, echoed the pledges of their absent comrades in New York. +Organization, for the Union, followed. Even the maddest +Confederate saw the only way to serve the South was to sneak +through the lines to Texas. The telegraph was completed in +October, 1861. The government had then daily tidings from the +loyal sentinels calling "All's well," on fort and rampart, from +San Juan Island to Fort Yuma.</p> +<p>Troops were offered everywhere. The only region in California +where secessionists were united was in San Joaquin.</p> +<p>While public discussion availed, Hardin and Valois listened to +Thornton, Crittenden, Morrison, Randolph, Dr. Scott, Weller, +Whitesides, Hoge, and Nugent. But the time for hope was past. The +golden sun had set for ever. Fifteen regiments of Californian +troops, in formation, were destined to hold the State. They +guarded the roads to Salt Lake and Arizona. The arsenals and +strongholds were secured. The chance of successful invasion from +Texas vanished. It was the crowning mistake of the first year of +secession, not to see the value of the Pacific Coast. From the +first shot, the Pacific Railroad became a war measure. The iron +bands tied East and West in a firm union.</p> +<p>Gwin's departure and Randolph's death added to the Southern +discomfiture. No course remained for rebels but to furtively join +the hosts of treason. Flight to the East.</p> +<p>In the wake of Sidney Johnston went many men of note. Garnett, +Cheatham, Brooks, Calhoun, Benham, Magruder, Phil Herbert, and +others, with Dan Showalter and David Terry, each fresh from the +deadly field of honor. Kewen, Weller, and others remained to be +silenced by arrest. All over the State a hegira commenced which +ended in final defeat. Many graves on the shallow-trenched +battle-fields were filled by the Californian exiles. Not in honor +did these devoted men and hundreds of their friends leave the +golden hills. Secretly they fled, lest their romantic quest might +land them in a military prison. Those unable to leave gave aid to +the absent. Sulking at home, they deserted court and mart to +avoid personal penalties.</p> +<p>It was different with many of the warm-hearted Californian +sons of the South who were attached to the Union. Cut off in a +distant land, they held aloof from approving secession. Grateful +for the shelter of the peaceful land in which their hard-won +homes were made, it was only after actual war that the ties of +blood carried them away and ranged them under the Stars and Bars. +When the Southern ranks fell, in windrows, on the Peninsula, +hundreds of these manly Californians left to join their brethren. +They had clung to the Union till their States went out one by +one. They sadly sought the distant fields of action, and laid +down their lives for the now holy cause.</p> +<p>The attitude of these gallant men was noble. They scorned the +burrowing conspirators who dug below the foundations of the +national constitution. These schemers led the eager South into a +needless civil war.</p> +<p>The holiest feelings of heredity dragged the Southerners who +lingered into war. It was a sacrifice of half of the splendid +generation which fought under the Southern Cross.</p> +<p>When broken ranks appealed for the absent, when invaded States +and drooping hopes aroused desperation, the last California +contingents braved the desert dangers. Indian attack and Federal +capture were defied, only to die for the South on its sacred +soil. "Salut aux braves!" The loyalists of California were +restrained from disturbing the safe tenure of the West by +depleting the local Union forces. Abraham Lincoln saw that the +Pacific columns should do no more than guard the territories +adjacent. To hold the West and secure the overland roads was +their duty. To be ready to march to meet an invasion or quell an +uprising. This was wisdom.</p> +<p>But the country called for skilled soldiers and representative +men to join the great work of upholding the Union. A matchless +contingent of Union officers went East.</p> +<p>California had few arms-bearing young Americans to represent +its first ten years of State existence. But it returned to the +national government men identified with the Pacific Coast, who +were destined to be leaders of the Union hosts.</p> +<p>Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, Thomas, Halleck, Hancock, Hooker, +Keyes, Naglee, Baker, Ord, Farragut (the blameless Nelson of +America), Canby, Fremont, Shields, McPherson, Stoneman, Stone, +Porter, Boggs, Sumner, Heintzelman, Lander, Buell, with other old +residents of the coast, drew the sword. Wool, Denver, Geary, and +many more, whose abilities had been perfected in the struggles of +the West, took high rank.</p> +<p>Where the young were absent (by reason of the infancy of the +State), these men were returned to the government. They went with +a loyalty undimmed, in the prime of their powers. Even the +graceful McClellan was identified with the Pacific Railway +survey. Around the scenes of their early manhood, the halo of +these loyal men will ever linger, and gild the name of "Pioneer." +It can never be forgotten that without the stormy scenes of +Western life, without the knowledge of the great golden empire +and the expansion of powers due to their lessons on plain and +prairie, many of these men would have relapsed into easy +mediocrity.</p> +<p>The completed telegraph, military extension of lines, and the +active Union League, secured California to the Union.</p> +<p>The gigantic game of war rolled its red pageantry over Eastern +fields. Bull Run fired the Southern heart. Hardin and Valois +learned the Southern Government would send a strong expedition to +hold New Mexico and Arizona. Local aid was arranged by the +Knights of the Golden Circle to, at last, seize California. It +was so easy to whip Yankees. The Knights were smiling.</p> +<p>At the risk of their lives, two Southern messengers reached +San Francisco. One by Panama. The other crossed Arizona and +examined the line of march. He rode, warning sympathizers to +await the Confederate flag, which now waved in triumph at +Munson's Hill, in plain sight of the guarded capitol.</p> +<p>Valois fears this Western raid may be too late. For the Navy +Department reinforces the Pacific fleet. Valois explains to +Hardin that his prophecy is being realized. The Confederates, +with more men than are needed, hold their lines of natural +defence. The fruits of Bull Run are lost. While letters by every +steamer come from Northern spies, Washington friends, and +Southern associates, the journals tell them of the deliberate +preparation of the North for a struggle to the death. The giant +is waking up.</p> +<p>Valois mourns the madness of keeping the flower of the South +inactive. A rapid Northern invasion should humble the +administration. The ardent Texans should be thrown at once into +California, leaving New Mexico and Arizona for later +occupation.</p> +<p>There is no reason why the attack should not be immediate. +Under the stimulus of Bull Run the entire Southern population of +California would flock to the new standard. Three months should +see the Confederate cavalry pasturing their steeds in the +prairies of California.</p> +<p>The friends sicken at the delay, as weary months drag on. +Sibley's Texans should be now on the Gila. They have guides, +leaders, scouts, and spies from the Southern refugees pouring +over the Gila. Every golden day has its gloomy sunset. Hardin's +brow furrows with deep lines. His sagacity tells him that the +time has passed for the movement to succeed.</p> +<p>And he is right. Sibley wearies out the winter in Texas. The +magnet of Eastern fields of glory draws the fiery Texans across +the Mississippi. The Californian volunteers are arming and +drilling. They stream out to Salt Lake. They send the heavy +column of General Carleton toward El Paso.</p> +<p>The two chiefs of the Golden Circle are unaware of the +destination of Carleton. Loyalty has learned silence. There are +no traitor department clerks here, to furnish maps, plans, and +duplicate orders.</p> +<p>Canby in New Mexico, unknown to the secessionists of +California, aided by Kit Carson, gathers a force to strike Sibley +in flank. It is fatal to Californian conquest. Hardin and Valois +learn of the lethargy of the great Confederate army, flushed with +success. Sibley's dalliance at Fort Bliss continues.</p> +<p>The "army of New Mexico," on September 19, 1861, is only a few +hundreds of mounted rangers and Texan youth under feeble +Sibley.</p> +<p>From the first, Jefferson Davis's old army jealousies and +hatred of able men of individuality, hamstring the Southern +cause. A narrow-minded man is Davis, the slave of inveterate +prejudice. With dashing Earl Van Dorn, sturdy Ben Ewell, and +dozens of veteran cavalry leaders at his service, knowing every +foot of the road, he could have thrown his Confederate column +into California. Three months after Sumter's fall, California +should have been captured. Davis allows an old martinet to ruin +the Confederate cause in the Pacific.</p> +<p>The operation is so easy, so natural, and so necessary, that +it looks like fatuity to neglect the golden months of the fall of +1861.</p> +<p>Especially fitted for bold dashes with a daring leader, the +Texans throw themselves, later, uselessly against the flaming +redoubts of Corinth. They are thrown into mangled heaps before +Battery Robinett, dying for the South. Their military +recklessness has never been surpassed in the red record of +war.</p> +<p>Though gallant in the field, President Jefferson Davis, seated +on a throne of cotton, gazes across the seas for England's help. +He craves the aid of France. He allows narrow prejudice to blind +him to any part of the great issue, save the military pageantry +of his unequalled Virginian army. It is the flower of the South, +and moves only on the sacred soil of Virginia. Davis, restrained +by antipathies, haughty, and distant, is deaf to the thrilling +calls of the West for that dashing column. It would have gained +him California. Weakness of mind kept him from hurling his +victorious troops on Washington, or crossing the Ohio to divide +the North while yet unprepared. Active help could then be looked +for from Northern Democrats. But he masses the South in +Virginia.</p> +<p>As winter wears on the movement of Carleton's and Canby's +preparations are disclosed by Southern friends, who run the +gauntlet with these discouraging news.</p> +<p>Sibley lingered with leaden heels at Fort Bliss. The +Confederate riders are not across the Rio Grande. Valois grows +heartsick.</p> +<p>Broken in hopes, wearied with plotting, mistrusted by the +community, Hardin knows the truth at last. The words, "Too late!" +ring in his ears.</p> +<p>It will be only some secret plot which can now hope to succeed +in the West.</p> +<p>Davis and Lee are wedded to Virginia. The haughty selfishness +of the "mother of presidents" demands that every interest of the +Confederacy shall give way to morbid State vanity. Virginia is to +be the graveyard of the gallant Southern generation in arms.</p> +<p>Every other pass may be left unguarded. The chivalry of the +Stars and Bars must crowd Virginia till their graves fill the +land. Unnecessarily strong, with a frontier defended by rivers, +forests, and chosen positions, it becomes Fortune's sport to +huddle the bulk of the Confederate forces into Lee's army.</p> +<p>It allows the Border, Gulf, and Western States to fall a prey +to the North. The story of Lee's ability has been told by an +adoring generation. The record of his cold military selfishness +is shown in the easy conquests of the heart of the South. Their +natural defenders were drafted to fill those superb legions, +operating under the eyes of Davis and controlled by the slightest +wish of imperious Lee.</p> +<p>Albert Sidney Johnston, Beauregard, and the fighting +tactician, Joe Johnston, were destined to feel how fatal was the +military favoritism of Jefferson Davis. Davis threw away +Vicksburg, and the Mississippi later, to please Lee. All for +Virginia.</p> +<p>Stung with letters from Louisiana, reproaching him for +inaction while his brethren were meeting the Northern invaders, +Valois decides to go East. He will join the Southern defence. For +it is defence—not invasion—now.</p> +<p>Directing Hardin to select a subordinate in his place, Valois +returns to Lagunitas. He must say farewell to loving wife and +prattling child. Too well known to be allowed to follow +Showalter, Terry, and their fellows over the Colorado desert, he +must go to Guaymas in Mexico. He can thus reach the Confederates +at El Paso. From thence it is easy to reach New Orleans. Then to +the front. To the field.</p> +<p>Valois feels it would be useless for him to go via Panama. The +provost-marshal would hold him as a "known enemy."</p> +<p>With rage, Valois realizes a new commander makes latent +treason uncomfortable in California. He determines to reach El +Paso, and hurl the Texans on California. Should he fail, he heads +a Louisiana regiment. His heart tells him the war will be long +and bloody. Edmund Randolph's loyalty, at the outbreak, prevented +the seizure of California. Sibley's folly and Davis's +indifference complete the ruin of the Western plan of action.</p> +<p>"Hardin, hold the Knights together. I will see if I can stop a +Yankee bullet!" says Valois. He notifies Hardin that he intends +to make him sole trustee of his property in his absence.</p> +<p>Hardin's term on the bench has expired. Like other Southerners +debarred from taking the field, he gives aid to those who go. The +men who go leave hostages behind them. The friendship of years +causes Yalois to make him the adviser of his wife in property +matters. He makes him his own representative. "Thank Heaven!" +cries Valois, "my wife's property is safe. No taint from me can +attach to her birthright. It is her own by law."</p> +<p>Valois, at Lagunitas, unfolds to the sorrowing padre his +departure for the war. Safe in the bosom of the priest, this +secret is a heavy load. Valois gains his consent to remain in +charge of Lagunitas. The little girl begins to feebly walk. Her +infant gaze cannot measure her possessions.</p> +<p>Lovely Dolores Valois listens meekly to her husband's plans. +Devoted to Maxime, his will is her only law. The beautiful dark +eyes are tinged with a deeper lustre.</p> +<p>Busied with his affairs, Maxime thinks of the future as he +handles his papers. Fran‡ois Ribaut is the depositary of +his wishes. Dolores is as incapable as her child in business. +Will God protect these two innocents?</p> +<p>Valois wonders if he will return in defeat like Don Miguel. +Poor old Don! around his tomb the roses creep,—his gentle +Juanita by his side.</p> +<p>He hopes the armies of the West will carry the banner, now +flying from Gulf to border, into the North. There the legendary +friends of the South will hail it.</p> +<p>Alas! pent up in California, Maxime hears not the murmurs of +the Northern pines, breathing notes of war and defiance. The +predictions of the leaders of the conspiracy are fallacious. Aid +and comfort fail them abroad. North of Mason and Dixon's line the +sympathizers are frightened.</p> +<p>In his heart he only feels the tumult of the call to the +field. It is his pride of race. Tired, weary of the crosses of +fortune, he waits only to see the enemy's fires glittering from +hill and cliff.</p> +<p>With all his successes, the West has never been his home. +Looking out on his far-sweeping alamedas, his thoughts turn +fondly back to his native land. He is "going home to Dixie."</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XI. — "I'SE GWINE BACK TO DIXIE."—THE +FORTUNES OF WAR.—VAL VERDE.</h2> +<p>The last weeks of Maxime Valois' stay at Lagunitas drift away. +Old "Kaintuck" has plead in vain to go. He yields to Valois' +orders not to dream of going with him. His martial heart is +fired, but some one must watch the home. Padre Fran‡ois +Ribaut has all the documents of the family, the marriage, and +birth of the infant heir. He is custodian also of the will of +Donna Dolores. She leaves her family inheritance to her child, +and failing her, to her husband. The two representatives of the +departing master know that Philip Hardin will safely guide the +legal management of the estate while its chieftain is at the +wars.</p> +<p>Donna Dolores and the priest accompany Valois to San +Francisco. He must leave quietly. He is liable to arrest. He +takes the Mexican steamer, as if for a temporary absence.</p> +<p>It costs Maxime Valois a keen pang of regret, as he rides the +last time over his superb domain. He looks around the plaza, and +walks alone through the well-remembered rooms. He takes his seat, +with a sigh, by his wife's side, as the carriage whirls him down +the avenues. The orange-trees are in bloom. The gardens show the +rare beauties of midland California. As far as the eye can reach, +the sparkle of lovely Lagunitas mirrors the clouds flaking the +sapphire sky. Valois fixes his eyes once more upon his happy +home. Peace, prosperity, progress, mining exploration, social +development, all smile through this great interior valley of the +Golden State. No war cloud has yet rolled past the "Rockies." It +is the golden youth of the commonwealth. The throbbing engine, +clattering stamp, whirling saw, and busy factory, show that the +homemakers are moving on apace, with giant strides. No fairer +land to leave could tempt a departing warrior. But even with a +loved wife and his only child beside him, the Southerner's heart +"turns back to Dixie."</p> +<p>Passing rapidly through Stockton, where his old friends vainly +tempt him to say, publicly, good-by, he refrains. No one must +know his destination. No parting cup is drained.</p> +<p>In San Francisco, Philip Hardin, in presence of Valois' wife +and the padre, receives his powers of attorney and final +directions. Letters, remittances, and all communications are to +be sent through a house in Havana. The old New Orleans family of +Valois is well known there. Maxime will be able, by +blockade-runners and travelling messengers, to obtain his +communications.</p> +<p>The only stranger in San Francisco who knows of Maxime's +departure is the old mining partner, Joe Woods. He is now a +middle-aged man of property and vigor. He comes from the interior +to say adieu to his friend. "Old times" cloud their eyes. But the +parting is secret. Federal spies throng the streets.</p> +<p>At the mail wharf the Mexican steamer, steam up, is ready for +departure. The last private news from the Texan border tells of +General Sibley's gathering forces. Provided with private +despatches, and bundles of contraband letters for the cut-off +friends in the South, Maxime Valois repairs to the steamer. +Several returning Texans and recruits for the Confederacy have +arrived singly. They will make an overland party from Guaymas, +headed by Valois. Valois, under the orders of the Golden Circle, +has been charged with important communications. Unknown to him, +secret agents of the government watch his departure. He has +committed no overt act. He goes to a neutral land.</p> +<p>The calm, passionless face of Padre Fran‡ois Ribaut +shows a tear trembling in his eye. He leads the weeping wife +ashore from the cabin. The last good-by was sacred by its silent +sorrow. Valois' father's heart was strangely thrilled when he +kissed his baby girl farewell, on leaving the little party. Even +rebels have warm hearts.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin's stern features relax into some show of feeling +as Valois places his wife's hands in his. That mute adieu to +lovely Dolores moves him. "May God deal with you, Hardin, as you +deal with my wife and child," solemnly says Valois. The lips of +Fran‡ois Ribaut piously add "Amen. Amen."</p> +<p>Padre Francisco comes back to the boat. With French +impulsiveness, he throws himself in Valois' arms. He whispers a +friend's blessing, a priest's benediction.</p> +<p>The ORIZABA glides out past two or three watchful cruisers +flying the Stars and Stripes. The self-devoted Louisianian loses +from sight the little knot of dear ones on the wharf. He sees the +flutter of Dolores' handkerchief for the last time. On to Dixie! +Going home!</p> +<p>Out on the bay, thronged with the ships of all nations, the +steamer glides. Its shores are covered with smiling villages. +Happy homes and growing cities crown the heights. Past grim +Alcatraz, where the star flag proudly floats on the Sumter-like +citadel, the boat slowly moves. It leaves the great metropolis of +the West, spreading over its sandy hills and creeping up now the +far green valleys. It slips safely through the sea-gates of the +West, and past the grim fort at the South Heads. There, casemate +and barbette shelter the shotted guns which speak only for the +Union.</p> +<p>Valois' heart rises in his throat as the sentinel's bayonet +glitters in the sunlight. Loyal men are on the walls of the fort. +Far away on the Presidio grounds, he can see the blue regiments +of Carleton's troops, at exercise, wheel at drill. The sweeping +line of a cavalry battalion moves, their sabres flash as the +lines dash on. These men are now his foes. The tossing breakers +of the bar throw their spray high over bulwarks and guard. In +grim determination he watches the last American flag he ever will +see in friendship, till it fades away from sight. He has now +taken the irrevocable step. When he steps on Mexican soil, he +will be "a man without a country." Prudential reasons keep him +aloof from his companions until Guaymas is reached. Once ashore, +the comrades openly unite. Without delay the party plunges into +the interior. Well armed, splendidly mounted, they assume a +semi-military discipline. The Mexicans are none too friendly. +Valois has abundant gold, as well as forty thousand dollars in +drafts on Havana, the proceeds of Lagunitas' future returns +advanced by Hardin.</p> +<p>Twenty days' march up the Yaqui Valley, through Arispe, where +the filibusters died with Spartan bravery, is a weary jaunt. But +high hopes buoy them up. Over mesa and gorge, past hacienda and +Indian settlement, they climb passes until the great mountains +break away. Crossing the muddy Rio Grande, Valois is greeted by +old friends. He sees the Confederate flag for the first time, +floating over the turbulent levies of Sibley, still at Fort +Bliss.</p> +<p>Long and weary marches; dangers from bandit, Indian, and +lurking Mexican; regrets for the home circle at Lagunitas, make +Maxime Valois very grave. Individual sacrifices are not +appreciated in war-time. As he rides through the Confederate +camp, his heart sinks. The uncouth straggling plainsmen, without +order or regular equipment, recall to him his old enemies, the +nomadic Mexican vaqueros.</p> +<p>There seems to be no supply train, artillery, or regular +stores. These are not the men who can overawe the compact +California community. Far gray rocky sandhills stretch along the +Texan border. Over the Rio Grande, rich mountain scenery delights +the eye. It instantly recalls to Valois the old Southern dream of +taking the "Zona Libre." Tamaulipas, Coahuila, and Nueva Leon +were coveted as a crowning trophy of the Mexican war. Dreams of +olden days.</p> +<p>Received kindly by General Sibley, the Louisianian delivers +his letters, despatches, and messages. After rest and +refreshment, he is asked to join a council of war. There are +fleet couriers, lately arrived, who speak of Carleton's column +being nearly ready to cross the Colorado. When the General +explains his plan of attacking the Federal forces in New Mexico, +and occupying Arizona, Valois hastens to urge a forced march down +to the fertile Gila. He trusts to Canby timidly holding on to +Fort Union and Fort Craig. Alas, Sibley's place of recruiting and +assembly has been ill chosen! The animals, crowded on the bare +plains, suffer for lack of forage. Recruits are discouraged by +the dreary surroundings. The effective strength has not visibly +increased in three months. The Texans are wayward. A strong +column, well organized, in the rich interior of Texas, full of +the early ardor of secession might have pushed on and reached the +Gila. But here is only a chafing body of undisciplined men. They +are united merely by political sentiment.</p> +<p>General Sibley urges Valois to accompany him in his forward +march. He offers him a staff position, promising to release him, +then to move to the eastward. Valois' knowledge of the frontier +is invaluable, and he cannot pass an enemy in arms. Maxime +Valois, with fiery energy, aids in urging the motley command +forward. On February 7, 1862, the wild brigade of invasion +reaches the mesa near Fort Craig. The "gray" and "blue" meet here +in conflict, to decide the fate of New Mexico and Arizona. Feeble +skirmishing begins. On the 2lst of February, the bitter conflict +of Val Verde shows Valois for the first time—alas, not the +last!—the blood of brothers mingled on a doubtful field. It +is a horrid fight. A drawn battle.</p> +<p>Instead of pushing on to Arizona, deluded by reports of local +aid, Sibley straggles off to Santa Fe and Albuquerque. Canby +refits his broken forces under the walls of strong Fort Union. +Long before the trifling affairs of Glorietta and Peralta, +Valois, disgusted with Sibley, is on his way east. He will join +the Army of the West. His heart sickens at the foolish incapacity +of the border commander. The Texan column melts away under +Canby's resolute advance. The few raiders, who have ridden down +into Arizona and hoisted the westernmost Confederate flag at +Antelope Peak, are chased back by Carleton's strong column. The +boasted "military advance on California" is at an end. Carleton's +California column is well over the Colorado. The barren fruits of +Val Verde are only a few buried guns of McRea's hard-fought +battery. The gallantry of Colonel Thos. P. Ochiltree, C.S.A., at +Val Verde, under the modest rank of "Captain," is the only +remembered historic incident of that now forgotten field. The +First Regiment and one battalion of the Second California +Volunteer Cavalry, the Fifth California Infantry, and a good +battery hold Arizona firmly. The Second Battalion, Second +California Cavalry, the Fifth California Cavalry, and Third +California Infantry, under gallant General Pat Connor, keep Utah +protected. They lash the wild Indians into submission, and +prevent any rising.</p> +<p>General Canby and Kit Carson's victorious troops keep New +Mexico. They cut the line of any possible Confederate advance. +Only Sibley's pompous report remains now to tell of the fate of +his troops, who literally disbanded or deserted. An inglorious +failure attends the dreaded Texan attack.</p> +<p>The news, travelling east and west, by fugitives, soon +announce the failure of this abortive attempt. The golden +opportunity of the fall of 1861 never returns.</p> +<p>The Confederate operations west of the Rio Grande were only a +miserable and ridiculous farce. Valois, leaving failure behind +him, learns on nearing the Louisiana line, that the proud Pelican +flag floats no longer over the Crescent City. It lies now +helpless under the guns of fearless Farragut's fleet. So he +cannot even revisit the home of his youth. Maxime Valois smuggles +himself across the Mississippi. He joins the Confederates under +Van Dorn. He is a soldier at last.</p> +<p>Here in the circling camps of the great Army of the West, +Maxime Valois joins the first Louisiana regiment he meets. He +realizes that the beloved Southern Confederacy has yet an +unbeaten army. A grand array. The tramp of solid legions makes +him feel a soldier, not a sneaking conspirator. He is no more a +guerilla of the plains, or a fugitive deserter of his adopted +State.</p> +<p>The capture of New Orleans seals the Mississippi. The +Confederacy is cut in twain. It is positive now, the only help +from the golden West will be the arrival of parties of +self-devoted men like himself. They come in squads, bolting +through Mexico or slipping through Arizona. Some reach Panama and +Havana, gaining the South by blockade runners. He opens mail +communication with Judge Hardin, via Havana. He succeeds in +exchanging views with the venerable head of his house at New +Orleans. It is all gloomy now. Old and despondent, the New +Orleans patriarch has sent his youthful son away to Paris. Armand +is too young to bear arms. He can only come home and do a +soldier's duty later. By family influence, Maxime Valois finds +himself soon a major in a Louisiana regiment. He wears his gray +uniform at the head of men already veterans. Shiloh's disputed +laurels are theirs. They are tigers who have tasted blood. In the +rapidly changing scenes of service, trusting to chance for news +of his family, Maxime Valois' whole nature is centred upon the +grave duties of his station. Southern victories are hailed from +the East. The victorious arms of the Confederacy roll back +McClellan's great force. Bruised, bleeding, and shattered from +the hard-fought fields of the Peninsula, the Unionists recoil. +The stars of the Southern Cross are high in hope's bright field. +Though Richmond is saved for the time, it is at a fearful cost. +Malvern Hill shakes to its base under the flaming cannon, +ploughing the ranks of the dauntless Confederates, as the Army of +the Potomac hurls back the confident legions of Lee, Johnston, +and Jackson. The Army of the Potomac is decimated. The bloody +attrition of the field begins to wear off these splendid lines +which the South can never replace. Losses like those of Pryor's +Brigade, nine hundred out of fifteen hundred in a single +campaign, would appall any but the grim Virginian soldiers. They +are veterans now. They learn the art of war in fields like Seven +Pines and Fair Oaks. Even Pryor, as chivalric in action as +truculent in debate, now admits that the Yankees will fight. +Fredericksburg's butchery is a victory of note. All the year the +noise of battle rolls, while the Eastern war is undecided, for +the second Manassas and awful Antietam balance each other. Maxime +Valois feels the issue is lost. When the shock of battle has been +tried at Corinth, where lion-like Rosecrans conquers, when the +glow of the onset fades away, his heart sinks. He knows that the +iron-jointed men of the West are the peers of any race in the +field.</p> +<p>Ay! In the West it is fighting from the first. Donelson, +Shiloh, and Corinth lead up to the awful death shambles of Stone +River, Vicksburg, and Chickamauga. These are scenes to shake the +nerve of the very bravest.</p> +<p>Heading his troops on the march, watching the thousand baleful +fires of the enemy at night, when friend and foe go down in the +thundering crash of battle, Valois, amazed, asks himself, "Are +these sturdy foes the Northern mudsills?"</p> +<p>For, proud and dashing as the Louisiana Tigers and Texan +Rangers prove, steady and vindictive the rugged Mississippians, +dogged and undaunted the Georgians, fierce the +Alabamans—the honest candor of Valois tells him no human +valor can excel the never-yielding Western troops. Their iron +courage honors the blue-clad men of Iowa, Michigan, and the Lake +States. No hired foreigners there; no helot immigrants these men, +whose glittering bayonets shine in the lines of Corinth, as +steadily as the spears of the old Tenth Roman +Legion—Caesar's pets.</p> +<p>With unproclaimed chivalry and a readiness to meet the foe +which tells its own story, the Western men come on. Led by Grant, +Sherman, Rosecrans, Sheridan, Thomas, McPherson, and Logan, they +press steadily toward the heart of the Confederacy. The rosy +dreams of empire in the great West fade away. Farragut, Porter, +and the giant captain, Grant, cut off the Trans-Mississippi from +active military concert with the rest of the severed +Confederacy.</p> +<p>To and fro rolls the red tide of war. Valois' soldierly face, +bronzed with service, shows only the steady devotion of the +soldier. He loves the cause—once dear in its +promise—now sacred in its hours of gloomy peril and +incipient decadence. Gettysburg, Vicksburg, and Port Hudson are +terrible omens of a final day of gloom. Letters from his wife, +reports from Judge Hardin, and news from the Western shores give +him only vague hints of the future straggling efforts on the +Pacific. The only comforting tidings are that his wife and child +are well, by the peaceful shores of Lagunitas. The absence of +foreign aid, the lack of substantial support from the Northern +sympathizers, and the slight hold on the ocean of the new +government, dishearten him. The grim pressure everywhere of the +Northern lines tells Valois that the splendid chivalry of the +Southern arms is being forced surely backward. Sword in hand, his +resolute mind unshaken, the Louisianian follows the Stars and +Bars, devoted and never despairing. "Quand meme."</p> +<p>In the long silent days at Lagunitas, the patient wife learns +much from the cautious disclosures of Padre Francisco. Her +soldier husband's letters tell her the absent master of Lagunitas +is winning fame and honor in a dreadful conflict. It is only +vaguely understood by the simple Californian lady.</p> +<p>Her merry child is rapidly forgetting the self-exiled father. +Under the bowers of Lagunitas she romps in leafy alley and shady +bower.</p> +<p>Judge Hardin, grave-faced, cautious, frugal of speech, visits +the domain several times. In conference with Padre Francisco and +the vigilant "Kaintuck," he adjusts the accumulating business +affairs.</p> +<p>Riding over the billowing fields, mounting the grassy hills, +threading the matchless forests of uncut timber, he sees all. He +sits plotting and dreaming on the porch by the lake side. +Thousands of horses and cattle, now crossed and improved, are +wealth wandering at will on every side. Hardin's dark eyes grow +eager and envious. He gazes excitedly on this lordly domain. +Suppose Valois should never come back. This would be a royal +heritage. He puts the maddening thought away. Within a few miles, +mill and flume tell of the tracing down of golden quartz lodes. +The pick breaks into the hitherto undisturbed quartz ledges of +Mariposa gold. Is there gold to be found here, too? Perhaps.</p> +<p>Only an old prating priest, a simple woman, and an infant, +between him and these thousands of rich acres, should Valois be +killed.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin becomes convinced of final defeat, as 1863 draws +to a close. The days of Gettysburg and Vicksburg ring the knell +of the Confederacy. Even the prestige of Chancellorsville, with +its sacred victory sealed with Stonewall Jackson's precious +blood, was lost in the vital blow delivered when the columns of +Longstreet and Pickett failed to carry the heights of +Gettysburg.</p> +<p>The troops slain on that field could never be replaced. +Boyhood and old age, alone, were left to fill the vacant ranks. +Settling slowly down, the gloomy days of collapse approach.</p> +<p>While Lee skilfully faced the Army of the Potomac, and the +Confederacy was drained of men to hold the "sacred soil," the +Western fields were lit up by the fierce light of Grant and +Sherman's genius. Like destroying angels, seconded by Rosecrans, +Thomas, and McPherson, these great captains drew out of the smoke +of battle, gigantic figures towering above all their rivals.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois bitterly deplored the uselessness of the war in +the trans-Mississippi section of the Confederacy. It is too late +for any Western divisions to affect the downward course of the +sacred cause for which countless thousands have already died.</p> +<p>The Potomac armies of the Union, torn with the dissensions of +warring generals, wait for the days of the inscrutable Grant and +fiery Philip Sheridan. In the West, the eagle eye of Rosecrans +has caught the weakness of the unguarded roads to the heart of +the Confederacy.</p> +<p>Stone River and Murfreesboro' tell of the wintry struggle to +the death for the open doors of Chattanooga. Though another shall +wear the laurels of victory, it is the proud boast of Rosecrans +alone to have divined the open joint in the enemy's harness. He +points the way to the sea for the irresistible Sherman. While the +fearless gray ranks thin day by day, in march and camp, Valois +thinks often of his distant home. Straggling letters from Philip +Hardin tell him of the vain efforts of the cowed secessionists of +the Pacific Coast. Loyal General George Wright holds the golden +coast. Governor and Legislature, Senators and Congressmen, are +united. The press and public sentiment are now a unit against +disunion or separation.</p> +<p>Colonel Valois looked for some effective action of the Knights +of the Golden Circle on the Pacific. Alas, for the gallant exile! +Impending defeat renders the secret conspirators cautious. In the +cheering news that wife and child are well, still guarded by the +sagacious Padre Fran‡ois, Valois frets only over the +consecutive failures of Western conspiracy. Folly and fear make +the Knights of the Golden Circle a timid band. The "Stars and +Stripes" wave now, unchallenged, over Arizona and New Mexico. The +Texans at Antelope Peak never returned to carry the "Stars and +Bars" across the Colorado. Vain boasters!</p> +<p>While Bragg toils and plots to hurl himself on Rosecrans in +the awful day of Chickamauga, where thirty-five thousand dying +and wounded are offered up to the Moloch of Disunion, Valois +bitterly reads Hardin's account of the puerile efforts on the +Pacific. It is only boys' play.</p> +<p>All energy, every spark of daring seems to have left the men +who, secure in ease and fortune, live rich and unharassed in +California. Their Southern brethren in the ranks reel blindly in +the bloody mazes of battle, fighting in the field. A poor +Confederate lieutenant attempts a partisan expedition in the +mountains of California. He is promptly captured. The boyish plan +is easily frustrated. Bands of resolute marauders gather at +Panama to attack the Californian steamers, gold-laden. The +vigilance of government agents baffles them. The mail steamers +are protected by rifle guns and bodies of soldiers. Loyal +officers protect passengers from any dash of desperate men +smuggled on board. Secret-service spies are scattered over all +the Western shores. Mails, telegraphs, express, and the growing +railway facilities, are in the hands of the government. It is +Southern defeat everywhere.</p> +<p>Valois sadly realizes the only help from the once enthusiastic +West is a few smuggled remittances. Here and there, some quixotic +volunteer makes his way in. An inspiring yell for Jeff Davis, +from a tipsy ranchero, or incautious pothouse orator, is all that +the Pacific Coast can offer.</p> +<p>The Confederate flag never sweeps westward to the blue +Pacific, and the stars and bars sink lower day by day. As the +weakness of American commerce is manifest on the sea, Colonel +Valois forwards despairing letters to California. He urges +attacks from Mexico, Japan, Panama, or the Sandwich Islands, on +the defenceless ships loaded with American gold and goods. +Unheeded, alas! these last appeals. Unfortunately, munitions of +war are not to be obtained in the Pacific. The American fleets, +though poor and scattered, are skilfully handled. Consuls and +diplomats everywhere aid in detecting the weakly laid plans of +the would-be pirates.</p> +<p>Still Valois fumes, sword in hand, at the pusillanimity of the +Western sympathizers. They are rich and should be arming. Why do +they not strike one effective blow for the cause? One gun would +sink a lightly built Pacific liner, or bring its flag down. +Millions of gold are being exported to the East from the treasure +fields of the West. Though proud of the dauntless, ragged gray +ranks he loves, Valois feels that the West should organize a +serious attack on some unprotected Federal interest, to save the +issue. But the miserable failure of Sibley has discouraged +Confederate Western effort. The Confederate Californian grinds +his teeth to think that one resolute dash of the scattered tens +of thousands lying in camp, uselessly, in Arkansas and Texas, +would even now secure California. Even now, as the Confederate +line of battle wastes away, desperate Southern men dream of +throwing themselves into Mexico as an unwelcome, armed +immigration. This blood is precious at home.</p> +<p>Stung by the taunts of Eastern friends, at last Philip Hardin +and his co-workers stir to some show of action.</p> +<p>Peacefully loading in San Francisco harbor for Mexico, a heavy +schooner is filled with the best attainable fittings for a +piratical cruise.</p> +<p>The J.W. Chapman rises and falls at the wharves at half +gun-shot from the old U.S. frigate CYANE. Her battery could blow +the schooner into splinters, with one broadside. Tackle and gear +load the peaceful-looking cases of "alleged" heavy merchandise. +Ammunition and store of arms are smuggled on board. Mingling +unsuspectedly with the provost guard on the wharves, a determined +crew succeed in fitting out the boat. Her outward "Mexican +voyage" is really an intended descent on the treasure +steamers.</p> +<p>Disguised as "heavy machinery," the rifled cannons are loaded. +When ready to slip out of the harbor, past the guard-boats, the +would-be pirate is suddenly seized. The vigilant Federal +officials have fathomed the design. Some one has babbled. Too +much talk, or too much whiskey.</p> +<p>Neatly conceived, well-planned, and all but executed, it was a +bold idea. To capture a heavy Panama steamer, gold-laden; to +transfer her passengers to the schooner, and land them in Mexico; +and, forcing the crew to direct the vessel, to lie in wait for +the second outgoing steamer, was a wise plan. They would then +capture the incoming steamer from Panama, and ravage the coast of +California.</p> +<p>With several millions of treasure and three steamers, two of +them could be kept as cruisers of the Confederacy. They could +rove over the Pacific, unchallenged. Their speed would be their +safety.</p> +<p>Mexican and South American ports would furnish coal and +supplies. The captured millions would make friends everywhere. +The swift steamers could baffle the antiquated U.S. war vessels +on the Pacific. A glorious raid over the Pacific would end in +triumph in India or China.</p> +<p>These were the efforts and measures urged by Valois and the +anxious Confederates of the East.</p> +<p>It was perfectly logical. It was absolutely easy to make an +effective diversion by sea. But some fool's tongue or spy's keen +eye ruins all.</p> +<p>When, months after the seizure of the CHAPMAN, Valois learns +of this pitiful attempt, he curses the stupid conspirators. They +had not the brains to use a Mexican or Central American port for +the dark purposes of the piratical expedition. Ample funds, +resolute men, and an unprotected enemy would have been positive +factors of success. Money, they had in abundance. Madness and +folly seem to have ruled the half-hearted conspirators of +California. An ALABAMA or two on the Pacific would have been most +destructive scourges of the sea. The last days of opportunity +glide by. The prosaic records of the Federal Court in California +tell of the evanescent fame of Harpending, Greathouse, Rubery, +Mason, Kent, and the other would-be buccaneers. The "Golden +Circle" is badly shattered.</p> +<p>Every inlet of the Pacific is watched, after the fiasco of the +Chapman. She lies at anchor, an ignoble prize to the sturdy old +Cyane. It is kismet.</p> +<p>Maxime Valois mourns over the failure of these last plans to +save the "cause." Heart-sick, he only wonders when a Yankee +bullet will end the throbbings of his unconquerable heart. All is +dark.</p> +<p>He fears not for his wife and child. Their wealth is secured. +He loses, from day to day, the feelings which tied him once to +California.</p> +<p>The infant heiress he hardly knows. His patient, soft-eyed +Western wife is now only a placid memory. Her gentle nature never +roused the inner fires of his passionate soul. Alien to the +Pacific Coast, a soldier of fortune, the ties into which he +drifted were the weavings of Fate. His warrior soul pours out its +devotion in the military oath to guard to the last the now ragged +silken folds of his regimental banner, the dear banner of +Louisiana. The eyes of the graceful Creole beauties who gave it +are now wet with bitter tears. Beloved men are dying vainly, day +by day, under its sacred folds. Even Beauty's spell is vain.</p> +<p>The wild oats are golden once more on the hills of Lagunitas; +the early summer breezes waft stray leaf and blossom over the +glittering lake in the Mariposa Mountains. Heading the tireless +riflemen of his command, Valois throws himself in desperation on +the Union lines at Chickamauga. Crashing volley, ringing +"Napoleons," the wild yell of the onset, the answering cheers of +defiance, sound faintly distant as Maxime Valois drops from his +charger. He lies seriously wounded in the wild rush of Bragg's +devoted battalions. He has got his "billet."</p> +<p>For months, tossing on a bed of pain, the Louisianian is a +sacred charge to his admiring comrades. Far in the hills of +Georgia, the wasted soldier chafes under his absence from the +field. The beloved silken heralds of victory are fluttering far +away on the heights of Missionary Ridge. His faded eye brightens, +his hollow cheek flushes when the glad tidings reach him of the +environment of Rosecrans. His own regiment is at the front. He +prays that he may lead it, when it heads the Confederate advance +into Ohio. For now, after Chickamauga's terrific shock, the tide +of victory bears northward the flag of his adoration. Months have +passed since he received any news of his Western domain. No +letters from Donna Dolores gladden him. Far away from the red +hills of Georgia, in tenderness his thoughts, chastened with +illness, turn to the dark-eyed woman who waits for him. She prays +before the benignant face of the Blessed Virgin for her warrior +husband. Alas, in vain!</p> +<p>Silent is Hardin. No news comes from Padre Francisco. Nothing +from his wife. Valois trusts to the future. The increasing +difficulty of contraband mails, hunted blockade-runners, and +Federal espionage, cut off his home tidings.</p> +<p>His martial soul thrilled at the glories of Chickamauga, +Valois learns that California has shown its mettle on the +fiercest field of the West. Cheatham, Brooks, and fearless Terry +have led to the front the wild masses of Bragg's devoted +soldiery. These sons of California, like himself, were no mere +carpet knights. On scattered Eastern fields, old friends of the +Pacific have drawn the sword or gallantly died for Dixie. Garnett +laid his life down at Rich Mountain. Calhoun Benham was a hero of +Shiloh. Wild Philip Herbert manfully dies under the Stars and +Bars on the Red River.</p> +<p>The stain of cold indifference is lifted by these and other +self-devoted soldiers who battle for the South.</p> +<p>With heavy sighs, the wounded colonel still mourns for the +failure to raise the Southern Cross in the West. Every day proves +how useless have been all efforts on the Pacific Coast. Virginia +is now the "man eater" of the Confederacy. Valois is haunted with +the knowledge that some one will retrace the path of Rosecrans. +Some genius will break through the open mountain-gates and cut +the Confederacy in twain. It is an awful suspense.</p> +<p>While waiting to join his command, he hungers for home news. +Grant, the indomitable champion of the North, hurls Bragg from +Missionary Ridge. Leaping on the trail of the great army, which +for the first time deserts its guns and flags, the blue-clad +pursuers press on toward Chattanooga. They grasp the iron gate of +the South with mailed hand.</p> +<p>The "Silent Man of Destiny" is called East to measure swords +with stately Lee. He trains his Eastern legions for the last +death-grapple. On the path toward the sea, swinging out like +huntsmen, the columns of Sherman wind toward Atlanta. Bluff, +impetuous, worldly wise, genius inspired, Sherman rears day by +day the pyramid of his deathless fame. Confident and steady, bold +and untiring, fierce as a Hannibal, cunning as a panther, old +Tecumseh bears down upon the indefatigable Joe Johnston. Now +comes a game worthy of the immortal gods. It is played on bloody +fields. The crafty antagonists grapple in every cunning of the +art of war. Rivers of human blood make easy the way. The serpent +of the Western army writhes itself into the vitals of the torn +and bleeding South. Everywhere the resounding crash of arms. +Alas, steadfast as Maxime Valois' nature may be, tried his +courage as his own battle blade, the roar of battle from east to +west tells him of the day of wrath! The yells and groans of the +trampled thousands of the Wilderness, are echoed by the +despairing chorus of the dying myriads of Kenesaw and Dalton. A +black pall hangs over a land given up to the butchery of +brothers. Mountain chains, misted in the blue smoke of battle, +rise unpityingly over heaps of unburied dead from the Potomac to +the Mississippi. Maxime Valois knows at last the penalty of the +fatal conspiracy. A sacrificed generation, ruined homes, and the +grim ploughshare of war rives the fairest fields of the Land of +the Cypress.</p> +<p>Fearless and fate-defying, under ringing guns, crashing +volley, and sweeping charge, the Southern veterans only close up +the devoted gray ranks. They are thinning with every conflict, +where Lee and Johnston build the slim gray wall against the +resistless blue sea sweeping down.</p> +<p>There is no pity in the pale moon. The cold, steady stars +shine down on the upturned faces of the South's best and bravest. +No craven blenching when the tattered Stars and Bars bear up in +battle blast. And yet the starry flag crowns mountain and rock. +It sweeps through blood-stained gorges and past battle-scarred +defile. Onward, ever southward. The two giant swordsmen reel in +this duel of desperation. Sherman and Johnston may not be +withheld. The hour of fate is beginning to knell the doom of the +cause. Southern mothers and wives have given up their unreturning +brave as a costly sacrifice on the altar of Baal. Valois, once +more in command, a colonel now, riding pale and desperate, before +his men, sees their upturned glances. The dauntless ranks, filing +by, touch his heroic heart. He fears, when Atlanta's refuge +receives the beaten host, that the end is nigh.</p> +<p>Bereft of news from his home, foreseeing the final collapse in +Virginia, assured that the sea is lost to the South, the +colonel's mood is daily sadder. His hungry eyes are wolfish in +their steady glare. Only a soldier now. His flag is his altar of +daily sacrifice.</p> +<p>Port after port falls, foreign flatterers stand coldly aloof, +empty magazines and idle fields are significant signs of the end. +Useless cotton cannot be sent out or made available, priceless +though it be. The rich western Mississippi is now closed as a +supply line for the armies. The paper funds of the new nation are +mere tokens of unpaid promises, never to be redeemed.</p> +<p>Never to falter, not to shun the driving attacks of the +pursuing horse or grappling foot, to watch his battle-flag +glittering in the van, to lead, cheer, hope, inspire, and madly +head his men, is the second nature of Valois. He has sworn not to +see his flag dishonored.</p> +<p>It never occurs to him to ask WHERE his creed came from. His +blood thrills with the passionate devotion which blots out any +sense of mere right and wrong. His motto is "For Dixie's Land to +Death."</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XII. — HOOD'S DAY.—PEACHTREE +CREEK.—VALOIS' LAST TRUST.—DE GRESS' +BATTERY.—DEAD ON THE FIELD OF HONOR.</h2> +<p>A lantern burns dimly before the tent of Colonel Valois on the +night of July 21, 1864. Within the lines of Atlanta there is +commotion. Myriad lights flicker on the hills. A desperate army +at bay is facing the enemy. Seven miles of armed environment +mocks the caged tigers behind these hard-held ramparts. Facing +north and east, the gladiators of the morrow lie on their arms, +ready now for the summons to fall in, for a wild rush on +Sherman's pressing lines. It is no holiday camp, with leafy +bowers and lovely ladies straying in the moonlight. No dallying +and listening to Romeos in gray and gold. No silver-throated +bugles wake the night with "Lorena." No soft refrain of the +"Suwanee River" melts all the hearts. It is not a gala evening, +when "Maryland, my Maryland," rises in grand appeal. The now +national "Dixie" tells not of fields to be won. It is a dark +presage of the battle morrow. Behind grim redan and salient, the +footsore troops rest from the day's indecisive righting. The +foeman is not idle; all night long, rumbling trains and busy +movements tell that "Uncle Billy Sherman" never sleeps. His blue +octopus crawls and feels its way unceasingly. The ragged gray +ranks, whose guns are their only pride, whose motto is "Move by +day; fight always," are busy with the hum of preparation.</p> +<p>It is a month of horror. North and South stand aghast at the +unparalleled butchery of the Wilderness and Spottsylvania. The +awful truth that Grant has paved his bloody way to final victory +with one hundred thousand human bodies since he crossed the +Rapidan, makes the marrow cold in the bones of the very bravest. +Sixty thousand foes, forty thousand friends, are the astounding +death figures. As if the dark angel of death was not satisfied +with a carnage unheard of in modern times, Johnston, the old +Marshal Ney of the Confederacy, gives way, in command of the +Southern army covering Atlanta, to J.B. Hood. He is the Texan +lion. Grizzled Sherman laughs on the 18th of July, when his spies +tell him Johnston is relieved. "Replenish every caisson from the +reserve parks; distribute campaign ammunition," he says, briefly. +"Hood would assault me with a corporal's guard. He will fight by +day or night. I know him," Uncle Billy says.</p> +<p>The great Tecumseh feels a twinge as he whips out this +verdict. Hood's tactics are fearful. There are thousands of mute +witnesses of his own fatal rashness lying at Kenesaw, whose +tongues are sealed in death. On that sad clay, Sherman out-Hooded +Hood. But the blunt son of Ohio is right. He is a demi-god in +intellect, and yet he has the intuition of femininity. He has +caught Hood's fighting character at a glance.</p> +<p>There's no time to chaffer over the situation. McPherson, the +pride of the army, Thomas, the Rock of Chickamauga, and wary +Schofield, draw in the great Union forces. Gallant Howard is in +this knightly circle. "Black Jack" Logan, the "Harry Monmouth" of +this coming field, connects on the 19th. There has been hot work +to-day. Firing in Thomas's front tells the great strategist that +Hood has tasted blood. Enough!</p> +<p>Sherman knows how that mad Texan will throw his desperate men +to the front, in the snapping, ringing zone of fire and flame. +Hooker receives the shock of the onset, reinforced by heavy +batteries, whose blazing guns tear lightning-rent lanes through +the Confederates. Not a second to lose. The gray swarms are +pouring on like mountain wolves.</p> +<p>Fighting sharp and hot, the Union lines reach the strong +defences of Peachtree Creek. Here Confederate Gilmer's +engineering skill has prepared ditch and fraise, abattis and +chevaux-de-frise, with yawning graves for the soon-forgotten +brave.</p> +<p>McPherson, Schofield, Howard, Hooker, and Palmer are all in +line, deployed with strong reserves.</p> +<p>Anxious Sherman sends clouds of orderly officers and scouts, +right and left. Hood's defiant volleys die away. Will the rush +come to-day? No; the hours wear away. The night brings quiet +along the lines. Though a red harvest lies on the field, it is +not the crowning effort of the entire enemy. It is only a +rattling day of uneasy, hot-tempered fight.</p> +<p>But the awful morrow is to come. Sherman soon divines the +difficulty of fathoming the Texan's real designs. Hood is +familiar with the ground. Drawing back to the lines of Atlanta, +Hood crouches for a desperate spring. The ridges of the red clay +hills, with little valleys running to the Chattahoochee in the +west, and Ocmulgee in the east, cover his manoeuvres. Corn and +cotton patches, with thick forests between, lie along the +extended front. A tangled undergrowth masks the entire movements +of the lurking enemy.</p> +<p>Tireless Sherman, expectant of some demoniac rush, learns that +the array before him is under Hood, Hardee, and the audacious +cavalry leader, Wheeler. Stewart's and Smith's Georgian levies +are also in line.</p> +<p>Every disposition is made by the wary antagonists. Sherman, +eagle-eyed and prompt to join issue, gains a brief repose before +the gray of morning looses the fires of hell. McPherson, young +and brilliant, whose splendid star is in its zenith, firmly holds +his exposed lines along the railroad between two valleys. In his +left and rear, the forest throws out dark shades to cover friend +and foe. Between the waiting armies, petty murder stays its +hands. The stars sweep to the west, bringing the last morning to +thousands. They are now dreaming, perhaps, of the homes they will +never see. A thrill of nervous tension keeps a hundred thousand +men in vague, dumb expectancy. The coming shock will be terrible. +No one can tell the issue.</p> +<p>As the worn Confederate sentinel drags up and down before the +tent of Colonel Valois, he can see the thoughtful veteran +sitting, his tired head resting on a wasted hand.</p> +<p>Spirit and high soul alone animate now the Louisiana colonel. +Hope has fled. Over his devoted head the sentinel stars swing, +with neither haste nor rest, toward the occident. They will shine +on Lagunitas, smiling, fringed with its primeval pines.</p> +<p>In her sleep, perhaps his little girl calls for him in vain. +He is doomed not to hear that childish voice again.</p> +<p>A bundle of letters, carelessly tossed down at head-quarters, +have been carried in his bosom during the day's scattering fight. +They are all old in their dates, and travel-worn in following the +shifting positions of his skeleton regiment. They bring him, at +last, nearly a year's news.</p> +<p>Suddenly he springs to his feet, and his voice is almost a +shriek. "Sentinel, call the corporal." In a moment, Valois, with +quivering lip, says, "Corporal, ask Major Peyton to be kind +enough to join me for a few moments."</p> +<p>When his field-officer approaches, anticipating some important +charge of duty, sword and revolver in hand, the ghastly face of +Valois alarms him.</p> +<p>"Colonel!" he cries. Valois motions him to be seated.</p> +<p>"Peyton," begins Valois, brokenly, "I am struck to the +heart."</p> +<p>He is ashy pale. His head falls on his friend's bosom.</p> +<p>"My wife!" He needs not finish. The open letters tell the +story. It is death news.</p> +<p>The major clasps his friend's thin hands.</p> +<p>"Colonel, you must bear up. We are fallen on sad, sad days." +His voice fails him. "Remember to-morrow; we must stand for the +South."</p> +<p>The chivalric Virginian's voice sounds hollow and strange. He +sought the regiment, won over by Valois' lofty courage and stern +military pride. To-morrow the army is to grapple and crush bold +Sherman. It will be a death struggle.</p> +<p>Yes, out of these walls, a thunderbolt, the heavy column, +already warned, was to seek the Union left, and strike a +Stonewall Jackson blow. Its march will be covered by the friendly +woods. The keen-eyed adjutants are already warning the captains +of every detail of the attack. Calm and unmoved, the gaunt +centurions of the thinned host accepted the honorable charges of +the forlorn hope. Valois' powder-seasoned fragment of the army +was a "corps d'elite." Peyton wondered, as he watched his +suffering colonel, if either would see another sparkling +jewel-braided night.</p> +<p>The blow of Hood must be the hammer of Thor.</p> +<p>"To-morrow, yes, to-morrow," mechanically replied Valois. "I +will be on duty to-morrow."</p> +<p>"To-night, Peyton," he simply said, "I must suffer my last +agony. My poor Dolores! Gone—my wife."</p> +<p>The tears trickled through his fingers as he bowed his +graceful head.</p> +<p>"And my little Isabel," he softly said; "she will be an +orphan. Will God protect that tender child?" Valois was talking +to himself, with his eyes fixed on the dark night-shadows hiding +the Federal lines. A stern, defiant gaze.</p> +<p>Peyton shivered with a nervous chill.</p> +<p>"Colonel, this must not be." In the silence of the brooding +night, it seems a ghastly call from another world, this message +of death.</p> +<p>Valois proudly checks himself.</p> +<p>"Peyton, I have few friends left in this land now. I want you +to look these letters over." He hands him several letters from +Hardin and from the priest. With tender delicacy, his hands close +on the last words of affection from the gentle dark-eyed wife, +who brought him the great dowry of Lagunitas, and gave him his +little Isabel.</p> +<p>Peyton reads the words, old in date but new in their crushing +force of sorrow to the husband. Resting on the stacked arms in +front of his tent, the colors of Louisiana and the silken shreds +of the Stars and Bars wait for the bugles of reveille calling +again to battle.</p> +<p>Dolores dying of sudden illness, cut off in her youthful +prime, was only able to receive the last rites of the Church, to +smile fondly in her last moments, as she kisses the picture of +the absent soldier of the Southern Cross. Fran‡ois Ribaut, +the French gentleman, writes a sad letter, with no formula of the +priest. He knows Maxime Valois is face to face with death, in +these awful days of war. A costly sacrifice on the altar of +Southern rights may be his fate at any moment.</p> +<p>It is to comfort, not admonish, to pledge every friendly +office, that the delicate-minded padre softens the blow. Later, +the priest writes of the lonely child, whose tender youth wards +off the blow of the rod of sorrow.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin's letter mainly refers to the important business +interests of the vast estate. The possibility of the orphanage of +Isabel occurs. He suggests the propriety of Colonel Valois' +making and forwarding a new will, and constituting a guardianship +of the young heiress. In gravest terms of friendship, he reminds +Valois to indicate his wishes as to the child, her nurture and +education. The fate of a soldier may overtake her surviving +parent any day.</p> +<p>Other unimportant issues drop out of sight. Hardin has told of +the last attempt to fit out a schooner at a secluded lumber +landing in Santa Cruz County. They tried to smuggle on board a +heavy gun secretly transported there. An assemblage of desperate +men, gathering in the lonely woods, were destined to man the +boat. By accident, the Union League discovers the affair. Flight +is forced on the would-be pirates.</p> +<p>Valois' lip curls as he tells Peyton of the utter prostration +of the last Confederate hope beyond the Colorado. All vain and +foolish schemes.</p> +<p>"I wish your advice, Major," he resumes. In brief summing up, +he gives Peyton the outline of his family history and his general +wishes.</p> +<p>A final result of the hurried conclave is the hasty drawing up +of a will. It is made and duly witnessed. It makes Philip Hardin +guardian of the heiress and sole executor of his testament. His +newly descended property he leaves to the girl child, with +directions that she shall be sent to Paris. She is to be educated +to the time of her majority at the "Sacred Heart." There in that +safe retreat, where the world's storms cannot reach the +defenceless child, he feels she will be given the bearing and +breeding of a Valois. She must be fitted for her high +fortunes.</p> +<p>He writes a fond letter to Father Francisco, to whom he leaves +a handsome legacy, ample to make him independent of all pecuniary +cares. He adjures that steadfast friend to shield his darling's +childhood, to follow and train her budding mind in its +development. He informs him of every disposition, and sends the +tenderest thanks for a self-devotion of years.</p> +<p>The farewell signature is affixed. Colonel Valois indites to +Judge Philip Hardin a letter of last requests. It is full of +instructions and earnest appeal. When all is done, he closes his +letter. "I send you every document suggested. My heart is sore. I +can no longer write. I will lead my regiment to-morrow in a +desperate assault. If I give my life for my country, Hardin, let +my blood seal this sacred bond between you and me. I leave you my +motherless child. May God deal with you and yours as you shall +deal with the beloved little one, whose face I shall never +see.</p> +<p>"If I had a thousand lives I would lay them down for the flag +which may cover me to-morrow night. Old friend, remember a dying +man's trust in you and your honor."</p> +<p>When Peyton has finished reading these at Colonel Valois' +request, his eyes are moist. To-night the bronzed chief is as +tender as a woman. The dauntless soul, strong in battle scenes, +is shaken with the memories of a motherless little one. She must +face the world alone, God's mercy her only stay.</p> +<p>Colonel Valois, who has explained the isolation of the child, +has left his estate in remainder to the heirs of Judge Valois, of +New Orleans.</p> +<p>Old and tottering to his tomb is that veteran jurist. The +possible heir would be Armand, the boy student, cut off in Paris. +No home-comings now. The ports are all closed.</p> +<p>When all is prepared, Colonel Valois says tenderly: "Peyton, I +have some money left at Havana. I will endorse these drafts to +you, and give you a letter to the banker there. You can keep them +for me. I want you to ride into Atlanta and see these papers +deposited. Let there be made a special commission for their +delivery to our agent at Havana. Let them leave Atlanta at once. +I want no failure if Sherman storms the city. I will not be alive +to see it."</p> +<p>Awed by the prophetic coolness of Valois' speech, Peyton sends +for his horse. He rides down to the town, where hundreds on +hundreds of wounded sufferers groan on every side. Thousands +desperately wait in the agony of suspense for the morrow's awful +verdict. He gallops past knots of reckless merry-makers who jest +on the edge of their graves. Henry Peyton bears the precious +packet and delivers it to an officer of the highest rank. He is +on the eve of instant departure for the sea-board. Cars and +engines are crowded with the frightened people, flying from the +awful shock of Hood's impending assault.</p> +<p>This solemn duty performed, the Major rejoins Colonel Valois +at a gallop. Lying on his couch, Valois' face brightens as he +springs from his rest. "It is well. I thank you," he simply says. +He is calm, even cheerful. The bonhomie of his race is manifest. +"Major Peyton," he says, pleasantly, "I would like you to +remember the matters of this evening. Should you live through +this war the South will be in wild disorder. I have referred to +your kindness, in my letter to Hardin and in a paper I have +enclosed to him. It is for my child. You will have a home at +Lagunitas if you ever go to California."</p> +<p>He discusses a few points of the movement of the morrow. There +is no extra solemnity in going under fire. They have lived in a +zone of fire since Sherman's pickets crossed the open, months +ago. But this supreme effort of Hood marks a solemn epoch. The +great shops and magazines of Atlanta, the railroad repair works, +foundries and arsenals, the geographical importance, studied +fortifications, and population to be protected, make the city a +stronghold of ultimate importance to the enfeebled South.</p> +<p>If the Northern bayonets force these last doors of Georgia, +then indeed the cause is desperate.</p> +<p>When midnight approached, Colonel Valois calmly bade his +friend "Good-night." Escorting him to his tent, he whispers, +"Peyton, take your coffee with me to-morrow. I will send for +you."</p> +<p>Slumber wraps friend and foe alike. All too soon the gray dawn +points behind the hills. There is bustle and confusion. Shadowy +groups cluster around the waning fires long before daybreak. The +gladiators are falling into line. Softly, silently, day steals +over the eastern hills. Is it the sun of Austerlitz or of +Waterloo?</p> +<p>Uneasy picket-firing ushers in the battle day. Colonel Valois +and Major Peyton share their frugal meal. The rattle of picket +shots grows into a steady, teasing firing. Well-instructed +outpost officers are carrying on this noisy mockery.</p> +<p>Massed behind the circling lines of Atlanta, within the radius +of a mile and a half, the peerless troops who DOUBT Hood's +ability, but who ADORE his dauntless bravery, are silently massed +for the great attack.</p> +<p>The officers of Valois' regiment, summoned by the adjutant, +receive their Colonel's final instructions. His steady eye turns +fondly on the men who have been his comrades, friends, and +devoted admirers. "Gentlemen," he says, "we will have serious +work to-day. I shall expect you to remember what Georgia hopes +from Louisiana."</p> +<p>Springing to his saddle, he doffs his cap as the head of the +regiment files by, in flank movement. The lithe step, steady +swing, and lightly poised arms proclaim matchless veterans. They +know his every gesture in the field. He is their idol.</p> +<p>As Peyton rides up, he whispers (for the colors have passed), +"Henry, if you lead the regiment out of this battle, I ask you +never to forget my last wishes." The two friends clasp hands +silently. With a bright smile, whose light lingers as he spurs +past the springy column, he takes the lead, falcon-eyed, riding +down silently into the gloomy forest-shades of death.</p> +<p>A heavy mass of troops, pushing out in swift march, works +steadily to the Union left, and gains its ground rapidly. The +Seventeenth Corps of Blair, struck in flank, give way. The +Sixteenth Union Corps of Dodge are quickly rushed up. The enemy +are struck hard. Crash and roar of battle rise now in deafening +clamor. Away to the unprotected Union rear ride the wild troopers +of Wheeler. The whole left of Sherman's troops are struck at +disadvantage. They are divided, or thrown back in confusion +toward Decatur. The desperate struggle sways to and fro till late +in the day. With a rush of Hood's lines, Murray's battery of +regular artillery is captured. The Stars and Bars sweep on in +victory.</p> +<p>Onward press the Confederate masses in all the pride of early +victory. The Fifteenth Corps, under Morgan L. Smith, make a +desperate attempt to hold on at a strong line of rifle pits. The +seething gray flood rolls upon them and sends them staggering +back four hundred yards. Over two cut-off batteries, the deadly +carnage smites blue and gray alike. Charge and countercharge +succeed in the mad struggle for these guns. Neither side can use +them until a final wave shall sweep one set of madmen far +away.</p> +<p>With desperate valor, Morgan L. Smith at last claims the +prize. His cheering troops send double canister from the regained +batteries into the gray columns of attack. General Sherman, at a +deserted house, where he has made his bivouac, paces the porch +like a restless tiger. The increasing firing on the left, tells +him of this heavy morning attack. A map spread on a table catches +his eye from time to time. The waiting crowd of orderlies and +staff officers have, one by one, dashed off to reform the lines +or strengthen the left. While the firing all along the line is +everywhere ominous, the roar on the left grows higher and higher. +Out from the fatal woods begin to stream weary squads of the +wounded and stragglers. The floating skulkers hover at the edge +of the red tide of conflict.</p> +<p>Ha! A wounded aide dashes up with tidings of the ominous gap +on the left. That fearful sweep of Wheeler's cavalry to the rear +is known at last by the fires of burning trains. With a few brief +words of counsel, and a nod of his stately head, McPherson, the +splendid light of battle on his brow, gallops away to reform +these broken lines. The eye of the chief must animate his +corps.</p> +<p>Hawk-eyed Sherman watches the glorious young general as he +turns into the forest. A grim look settles on the general's face. +He runs his eye over the map. As the tiger's approach is heralded +by the clatter of the meaner animals, so from out that forest the +human debris tell of Hood's battle hammer crashing down on that +left "in air." Is there yet time to reform a battle, now fighting +itself in sudden bloody encounters? All is at haphazard. A sigh +of relief. McPherson is there. His ready wit, splendid energy, +and inspiring presence are worth a thousand meaner souls, in the +wild maelstrom of that terrible July day.</p> +<p>Old Marshal Tecumseh, with unerring intuition, knows that the +creeping skirmishers have felt the whole left of his position. +With the interior lines and paths of the forest to aid, if +anything has gone wrong, if gap or lap has occurred, then on +those unguarded key-points and accidental openings, the desperate +fighters of the great Texan will throw their characteristic +fierceness. Atlanta's tall chimneys rise on the hills to the +west. There, thousands, with all at stake, listen to the rolling +notes of this bloody battle. High in the air, bursting shells +with white puffs light up the clouds of musketry smoke. Charging +yells are borne down the wind, with ringing answering cheers. The +staccato notes of the snapping Parrotts accentuate the battle's +din.</p> +<p>Sherman, with cloudy brow, listens for some news of the +imperilled left wing. Is the iron army of the Tennessee to fail +him now? Seven miles of bayonets are in that great line, from +left to right, headed by McPherson, Schofield, and Thomas, the +flower of the Union Army.</p> +<p>Looking forward to a battle outside Atlanta, a siege, or a +flanking bit of military chesswork, the great Union commander is +dragged now into a purely defensive battle. Where is +McPherson?</p> +<p>Sherman has a quarter of an hour of horrible misgiving. He saw +the mad panic of the first Bull Run. He led the only compact body +of troops off that fatal field himself. It was his own brigade. +In his first-fought field, he showed the unshakable nerve of +Macdonald at Wagram. But he has also seen the fruits of the wild +stampede of McCook and Crittenden's divisions since at +Chickamauga. It tore the laurels from Rosecrans' brow. Is this to +be a panic? Rosecrans' defeat made Sherman the field-marshal of +the West.</p> +<p>At Missionary Ridge, even the invincibles of the South fled +their lines in sudden impulse, giving up an almost impregnable +position. The haughty old artillerist, Braxton Bragg, was forced +to officially admit that stampede. He added a few dozen corpses +to his disciplinary "graveyards," "pour encourager les autres." +Panic may attack even the best army.</p> +<p>Is it panic now swelling on the breeze of this roaring fight? +Fast and far his hastily summoned messengers ride. To add a +crowning disaster to the confusion of the early morning death +grapple, the sun does not touch the meridian before a bleeding +aide brings back McPherson's riderless horse. Where is the +general? Alas, where?</p> +<p>Dashing far ahead of his staff and orderlies, tearing from +wood to wood, to close in the fatal gap and reface his +lines—a volley from a squad of Hood's pickets drops the +great corps commander, McPherson, a mangled corpse, in the +forest. No such individual loss to either army has happened since +Stonewall Jackson's untimely end at Chancellorsville.</p> +<p>His rifled body is soon recovered. With super-human efforts it +is borne to the house in the clearing and laid at General +Sherman's feet.</p> +<p>Lightning flashes of wit traverse Sherman's brain. Every rebel +straggler is instantly searched as he is swept in. The invaluable +private papers of General McPherson, the secret orders, and +campaign plans are found in the haversack of one of the captured +skirmishers. These, at least, are safe.</p> +<p>With this blow, comes the news of the Seventeenth Corps being +thrown back, far out of its place, by the wild rush of Hood's +braves. All goes wrong. The day is lost.</p> +<p>Will it be a Bull Run?</p> +<p>No! The impetuous Logan tears along his lines. "Black Jack's" +swarthy face brings wild cheers from the men, who throw +themselves madly on the attacking lines, seeking vengeance. The +Fifteenth Corps' rifles are sounding shotted requiem salvos for +their lost leader. The Seventeenth holds on and connects. The +Sixteenth Corps, struck heavily in flank by the victorious +Confederates, faces into line of battle to the left. It grimly +holds on, and pours in its leaden hail. Smith's left flank +doubled back, joining Leggett, completes the reformed line. From +high noon till the darkness of the awful night, a general +conflict rages along the whole front. War in its grim horror.</p> +<p>Sherman, casting a wistful glance on the body of McPherson, +stands alert. He is as bristling as a wild boar at bay. Sherman +at his best.</p> +<p>Is this their worst? No, for at four in the afternoon, a +terrific sally from Atlanta throws the very flower of the +assailants on the bloody knoll, evermore to be known as +"Leggett's Hill." There is madness and demoniac fury in the way +those gray columns struggle for that ridge.</p> +<p>In vain does Hood send out his bravest stormers to crown the +wished-for position of Leggett.</p> +<p>Sherman is as sure of Atlanta now, as if his eagles towered +over its domes. Drawing to the left the corps of Wood, massing +Schofield with twenty heavy guns playing on Hood's charging +columns, Sherman throws Wood, backed by John A. Logan's +victorious veterans, on the great body of the reeling assailants. +The final blow has met its stone wall, in the lines of Leggett. +The blue takes up the offensive, with wild cheers of triumph. +They reach "Uncle Billy's" ears.</p> +<p>Some decisive stroke must cut the tangle of the involved +forces. When Hood sees that his devoted troops have not totally +crushed the Union left, when his columns reel back from Leggett's +Hill, mere fragments, he knows that even his dauntless men cannot +be asked to try again that fearful quest. It is checkmate!</p> +<p>But Wheeler is still careering in destruction around Sherman's +rear parks, and ravaging his supplies. Hood persists in his +desperate design to pierce the Union lines somewhere. He throws +away his last chance of keeping an army together. His fiery valor +bade him defend Atlanta from the OUTSIDE. He now sends a last +thunderbolt crashing on the Decatur road.</p> +<p>During the day Valois' regiment has been thrown in here and +there. The stern colonel gazes with pride on the seasoned +fighters at their grim work.</p> +<p>But it is after four when Colonel Valois is ordered to mass +his regiment, followed by the last reserve, and lead it to the +front in the supreme effort of this awful day. His enemy in front +is a Union battery, which has been a flail to the Southern +army.</p> +<p>In dozens of encounters the four heavy twenty-pound Parrotts +of De Gress have been an object of the maddest attack. Superbly +handled, in the best equipment, its high power, long range, and +dashing energy have given to this battery the rank in the West, +which John Pelham's light artillery gained under Lee's eyes in +Virginia. The pride of Sherman's artillery is the famous battery +of De Gress. To-day it has been dealing out death incessantly, at +half musket-range. It has swept rank on rank of the foes away. +Now, with the frenzy of despair, General Hood sends a forlorn +column to pierce the Union lines, carry the road, and take those +renowned guns. A lull betokens the last rush.</p> +<p>Riding to the front, Colonel Valois reins up beside Major +Peyton. There is only time for a few last directions. A smile +which haunts Peyton for many a long day, flashes on Maxime +Valois' stern lips. He dashes on, waving his sword, and cries in +his ringing voice,</p> +<p>"Come on, boys, for Louisiana!"</p> +<p>Springing like panthers into the open, the closed ranks bound +toward the fated guns at a dead run. Ha! There was a crashing +salvo. Now, it is load and fire at will. Right and left, fire +pours in on the guns, whose red flashes singe the very faces of +the assailants. Peyton's quick eye sees victory wavering. Dashing +towards the guns he cheers his men. As he nears the battery the +Louisiana color-bearer falls dead. Henry Peyton seizes the +Pelican flag, and dashes on over friends, dead and dying, as his +frightened steed races into the battery.</p> +<p>There, every horse is down. The guns are now silent. A knot of +men, with clubbed rammers, bayonet thrusts, and quick revolver +shots, fight for the smoking cannon. A cheer goes up. De Gress's +guns are taken. Peyton turns his head to catch a glimpse of +Colonel Valois. Grasping the star-spangled guidon of the battery +with his bridle hand, Valois cuts down its bearer.</p> +<p>A wild yell rises as a dozen rebel bayonets are plunged into a +defiant fugitive, for he has levelled his musket point-blank and +shot Valois through the heart.</p> +<p>The leader's frightened charger bounds madly to the front, and +the Louisiana colonel falls heavily to the ground.</p> +<p>Clasped in his clenched hands, the silken folds of the +captured battery flag are dyed with his blood. A dozen willing +arms raise the body, bearing it to one side, for the major, +mindful of the precious moments, yells to "swing the guns and +pass the caissons." In a minute, the heavy Parrotts of De Gress +are pouring their shrapnel into the faces of the Union troops, +who are, three hundred yards away, forming for a rush to +recapture them.</p> +<p>As the cannon roar their defiance to the men who hold them +dear, Peyton bends over Maxime Valois. The heart is stilled +forever. With his stiffening fingers clutching his last trophy, +the "Stars and Stripes," there is the light of another world +shining on the face of the dead soldier of the Southern Cross. +Before sending his body to the rear, Henry Peyton draws from +Valois' breast a packet of letters. It is the last news from the +loved wife he has rejoined across the shadowy river. United in +death. Childish Isabel is indeed alone in the world. A rain of +shrieking projectiles and bursting shells tells of the coming +counter-charge.</p> +<p>Drawing back the guns by hand to a cover for the infantry, and +rattling the caissons over a ridge to screen the ammunition +boxes, the shattered rebel ranks send volleys into the faces of +the lines of Schofield, now coming on at a run.</p> +<p>The captured Parrotts ring and scream. One over-heated gun of +the battery bursts, adding its horrors to the struggle. Logan's +men are leaping over the lines to right and left, bayoneting the +gunners. The Louisianians give way and drift to the rear. The +evening shadows drop over crest, wood, and vale. When the first +stars are in the skies Hood's shattered columns stream back into +Atlanta. The three guns of De Gress have changed hands again. +Even the bursted piece falls once more under the control of the +despairing Union artillery captain. He has left him neither men, +horses, fittings, nor harness available—only three +dismantled guns and the wreck of his fourth piece. But they are +back again! Sherman's men with wildest shouts crowd the field. +They drive the broken remnants of the proud morning array under +the guns of the last lines of the doomed city. Dare-devil Hood +has failed. The desperate dash has cost ten thousand priceless +men. The brief command of the Texan fighter has wrecked the +invaluable army of which Joe Johnston was so mindful.</p> +<p>McPherson, who joined the subtlety of Stonewall to the superb +bearing of Sidney Johnston, a hero born, a warrior, and great +captain to be, lies under the stars in the silent chambers of the +Howard House.</p> +<p>General Sherman, gazing on his noble features, calm in death, +silently mourns the man who was his right hand. Thomas, +Schofield, Howard, Logan, and Slocum stand beside the dead +general. They bewail the priceless sacrifice of Peachtree +Creek.</p> +<p>In the doomed city of Atlanta, there is gloom and sadness. +With the fragments of the regiment which adored him, a shattered +guard of honor, watching over him with yet loaded guns, in charge +of the officers headed by Major Peyton, the body of Maxime Valois +rests within the Southern lines.</p> +<p>For the dear land of his birth he had abandoned the fair land +of his choice. With the captured banner of his country in his +hand, he died in the hour of a great personal triumph, "under the +Stars and Bars." Game to the last.</p> +<p>High-souled and devoted, the son of Louisiana never failed the +call of his kinsmen. He carried the purest principles to the +altar of Secession.</p> +<p>Watching by the shell from which the dauntless spirit had fled +in battle and in storm, Henry Peyton feels bitterly that the fate +of Atlanta is sealed. He knows the crushing of their weak lines +will follow. He can picture Sherman's heavy columns taking city +after city, and marching toward the blue sea.</p> +<p>The end is approaching. A gloomier darkness than the night of +the last battle broods over the Virginian. With pious reverence, +he hastens to arrange the few personal matters of his chief. He +knows not the morrow. The active duties of command will soon take +up all his time. He must keep the beloved regiment together.</p> +<p>For, of the two or three companies left of a regiment "whose +bayonets were once a thousand," Henry Peyton is the colonel now. +A "barren honor," yet inexpressibly dear to him.</p> +<p>In the face of the enemy, within the lines held hard by the +reorganizing fragments of yesterday's host, the survivors bury +the brave leader who rode so long at their head. Clad in his +faded gray, the colonel lies peacefully awaiting the great +Reveille.</p> +<p>When the sloping bayonets of the regiment glitter, for the +last time, over the ramparts their generous blood has stained in +fight, as the defeated troops move away, many a stout heart +softens as they feel they are leaving alone and to the foe the +lost idol of their rough worship.</p> +<p>Major Peyton preserves for the fatherless child the personal +relics of his departed friend. Before it is too late, he +despatches them to the coast, to be sent to Havana, to await +Judge Hardin's orders at the bankers'. The news of the fate of +Colonel Valois, and the last wishes of the dead Confederate, are +imparted in a letter to Judge Hardin by Peyton.</p> +<p>In the stern realities of the last retreat, fighting and +marching, after the winter snows have whitened the shot-torn +fields around Atlanta; sick of carnage and the now useless +bloodshed, Colonel Peyton leads his mere detachment to the final +scene of the North Carolina surrender. Grant's iron hand has +closed upon Petersburg's weakened lines. Sheridan's invincible +riders, fresh from the Shenandoah, have shattered the steadfast +at Five Forks.</p> +<p>Gloomy days have fallen, also, on the cause in the West. The +despairing valor of the day at Franklin and the assault on +Nashville only needlessly add to the reputation for frantic +bravery of the last of the magnificent Western armies of the +Confederacy. Everywhere there are signs of the inevitable end. +With even the sad news of Appomattox to show him that the great +cause is irretrievably lost, there are bitter tears in Henry +Peyton's eyes when he sees the flags of the army he has served +with, lowered to great Sherman in the last surrender.</p> +<p>The last order he will ever give to them turns out for +surrender the men whose reckless bravery has gilded a "Lost +Cause" with a romantic halo of fadeless glory. Peyton sadly +sheathes the sword he took from Maxime Valois' dead hands. +Southward, he takes his way. Virginia is now only a graveyard and +one vast deserted battle-field. The strangers' bayonets are +shining at Richmond. He cannot revisit the scenes of his boyhood. +A craving seizes him for new scenes and strange faces. He yearns +to blot out the war from his memory. He dreams of Mexico, Cuba, +or the towering Andes of South America. His heart is too full to +linger near the scenes where the red earth lies heaped over his +brethren of the sword. Back to Atlanta he travels, with the +returning fragments of the men who are now homeward bound. All is +silent now. From wood and hill no rattling fire wakes the +stillness of these days. The blackened ruins and the wide swath +cut by Sherman tell him how true was the prediction that the men +of the Northwest would "hew their way to the Gulf with their +swords." He finds the grave of Valois, when dismantled and +crippled Atlanta receives him again. Standing there, alone, the +pageantry of war has rolled away. The battle-fields are covered +with wild roses. The birds nest in the woods where Death once +reigned supreme. High in the air over Atlanta the flag of the +country waves, on the garrison parade, with not a single star +erased.</p> +<p>On his way to a self-appointed exile, the Virginian has seen +the wasted fields, blackened ruins, and idle disheartened +communities of the conquered, families brought to misery, and the +young arms-bearing generation blotted out. Hut and manor-house +have been licked up by the red torch of war. The hollow-eyed +women, suffering children, and dazed, improvident negroes, wander +around aimlessly. Bridges, mills and factories in ruins tell of +the stranger's torch, and the crashing work of the artillery. +Tall, smokeless chimneys point skywards as monuments of +desolation.</p> +<p>Bowed in defeat, their strongholds are yet occupied by the +blue-coated victors. All that is left of the Southern communities +lingers in ruined homes and idle marts. They now are counting the +cost of attempted secession, in the gloom of despair.</p> +<p>The land is one vast graveyard. The women who mourn husbands +and lovers stray over fields of strife, and wonder where the +loved one sleeps. Friend and foe, "in one red burial blent," are +lying down in the unbroken truce of death.</p> +<p>Atlanta's struggle against the restless Sherman has been only +wasted valor, a bootless sacrifice. Her terrific sallies, +lightning counter-thrusts, and final struggles with the +after-occupation, can be traced in the general desolation, by +every step of the horrible art of war.</p> +<p>Here, by the grave of his intrepid comrade, Henry Peyton +reviews the past four years. His scars and wasted frame tell him +of many a deadly fray, and the dangers of the insane fight for +State rights.</p> +<p>The first proud days of the war return. Hopes that have failed +long since are remembered. The levy and march to the front, the +thousand watch-fires glittering around the unbroken hosts, whose +silken-bordered banners tell of the matchless devotion of the +women clinging blindly to the cause.</p> +<p>Peyton thinks now of the loved and lost who bore those flags, +to-day furled forever, to the front, at Bull Run, Shiloh, the +Seven Days, Groveton, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, +Chickamauga, and Spottsylvania.</p> +<p>The foreign friends in Europe, the daring rovers of the sea +who carried the Stars and Bars from off New York to Singapore and +far Behring Straits. What peerless leaders. Such deep, sagacious +statesmen. The treasures of the rich South, the wealth of King +Cotton, all wasted uselessly. A popular devotion, which deeply +touched the magnanimous Grant in the supreme hour of victory, has +been lavished on the altar of the Confederacy where Davis, Lee, +and Jackson were enthroned. Fallen gods now, but still majestic +and yet revered.</p> +<p>Peyton thinks with an almost breaking heart of all these +sacrifices for the Lost Cause. By his friend's grave he feels +that an awful price has been paid for the glories of the +short-lived Confederacy.</p> +<p>The noble-hearted Virginian dares not hope that there may yet +be found golden bands of brotherhood to knit together the +children of the men who fought under gray and blue. Frankly +acknowledging the injustice of the early scorn of the Northern +foe, he knows, from glances cast backward over the storied +fields, the vigor of the North was under-estimated. The men of +Donelson, Antietam, Stone River, Vicksburg, awful Gettysburg, of +Winchester, and Five Forks, are as true and tried as ever swung a +soldier's blade.</p> +<p>He has seen the country's flag of stars stream out bravely +against the tide of defeat. If American valor needs a champion +the men who saw the "Yankees" at Seven Pines, Gaines Mill, +Marye's Heights, and holding in fire and flame the batteries of +Corinth and Knoxville, will swear the embittered foes were worthy +of each other.</p> +<p>The defeated Confederate veteran, as he plucks a rose from the +grass growing over the gallant Valois, bitterly remembers the +useless sacrifices of the whole Southern army to the "Virginia +policy." A son of the "old State" himself, he can feel now, in +the sorrow and silence of defeat, that the early triumphs of the +war were wasted. The great warlike generation was frittered away +on the Potomac.</p> +<p>Devoted to Lee, he still mourns the lost months of the fall of +'61, when, flushed with triumph, the Confederates could have +entered Washington. Then Maryland would have risen "en masse." +Foreign lands would have been won over. An aggressive policy even +in 1862, after the Peninsula, might have changed the final +result. The dead Californian's regrets for the abandonment of all +effort in the Pacific, the cutting-off and uselessness of the +great trans-Mississippi region, all return to him in vain +sorrow.</p> +<p>By Maxime Valois' grave, Peyton wonders if the +battle-consecrated blood of the sons has washed away the sins of +the fathers. He knows not of the brighter days, when the past +shall seem a vision of romance. When our country will smile in +peace and brotherhood, from ocean to ocean. Sadly he uncovers his +head. He leaves Maxime Valois lying in the proud silence of the +soldier's grave—"dead on the field of honor."</p> +<p>To New Orleans Colonel Peyton repairs. On making search, he +finds that Judge Valois has not survived the collapse of the +Confederacy. His only son is abroad, in Paris. The abandoned +plantations and family property are under the usual load of debt, +taxes, and all the legal confusion of a change of rulers.</p> +<p>Peyton thanks the dead soldier in his heart for the +considerable legacy of his unused balances. He is placed beyond +immediate necessity. He leaves the land where the Southern Cross +met defeat. He wishes to wander over Cuba, Mexico, and toward the +West. At Havana, he finds that the documents and articles +forwarded by the agents to Judge Hardin have been duly sent +though never acknowledged.</p> +<p>The letters taken from Colonel Valois' body he seals in a +packet. He trusts that fate may lead him some day westward. They +are too precious to risk. He may some day tell the little lady of +Lagunitas, of the gallant father whose thoughts, before his last +battle, were only for the beloved "little one." She is confided, +as a trust, from the dying to Judge Hardin. She is surely safe in +the sheltering care of Valois' oldest friend. A "Southern +gentleman."</p> +<p>Peyton for years can bring back the tender solemnity of Maxime +Valois' face, as he reads his charge to Hardin.</p> +<p>"And may God deal with you and yours, as you deal with me and +mine."</p> +<p>The devoted father's appeal would touch a heart of stone.</p> +<p>The folly of not beginning active war in the West; the madness +of not seizing California at the outset; the rich prizes of the +Pacific left ungathered, for has not Semmes almost driven Yankee +ships from the sea with the Alabama, and does not Waddell, with +the cockle-shell Shenandoah, burn and destroy the entire Pacific +whaling fleet? The free-booter sails half around the world, +unchallenged, after the war. Oh, coward Knights of the Golden +Circle! Fools, and blind, to let California slip from your +grasp!</p> +<p>Maxime Valois was right. Virginian rule ruined the +Confederacy. Too late, too late!</p> +<p>Had Sidney Johnston lived; had Robert E. Lee been willing to +leave sacred Virginia uncovered for a fortnight in the days +before he marshalled the greatest army the Southerners ever +paraded, and invaded the North boldly, a peace would have +resulted.</p> +<p>Peyton thinks bitterly of the irreparable loss of Sidney +Johnston. He recalls the death of peerless Jackson. Jackson, +always aggressive, active, eager to reach for the enemy, and ever +successful.</p> +<p>Wasted months when the prestige was with the South, the fixed +determination of Lee to keep the war in Virginia, and Davis's +deadly jealousy of any leading minds, seem to have lost the +brightest chances of a glorious success.</p> +<p>Peyton condemns the military court of Davis and the intrenched +pageantry of Lee's idle forces. The other armies of the +Confederacy fought, half supplied, giving up all to hold the +Virginia lines. He cannot yet realize that either Sherman or +Grant might have baffled Sidney Johnston had he lived. Lee was +self-conscious of his weakness in invasion. He will not own that +Philip Sheridan's knightly sword might have reached the crest of +the unconquered Stonewall Jackson.</p> +<p>Vain regret, shadowy dreams, and sad imaginings fill Colonel +Peyton's mind. The thrilling struggles of the Army of the West, +its fruitless victories, and unrewarded heroism make him proud of +its heroes. Had another policy ruled the Confederate military +cabinet, success was certain. But he is now leaving his friend's +grave.</p> +<p>The birds are singing in the forest. As the sun lights up the +dark woods where McPherson died, into Henry Peyton's war-tried +soul enters the peace which broods over field and +incense-breathing trees. Far in the East, the suns of future +years may bring happier days, when the war wounds are healed. The +brothers of the Union may find a nobler way to reach each other's +hearts than ball or bayonet. But he cannot see these gleams of +hope.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>BOOK IV. — A LOST HEIRESS.—MILLIONS AT +STAKE.</h2> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII. — MOUNT DAVIDSON'S MAGIC +MILLIONS.—A CALIFORNIA PLUTOCRACY.—THE PRICE OF A +CRIME.</h2> +<p>Philip Hardin's library in San Francisco is a place for quiet +labors. A spider's parlor. September, 1864, hides the enchanted +interior with deeper shades from the idle sight-seer.</p> +<p>Since the stirring days of 1861, after the consecutive +failures of plot, political scheme, and plan of attack, the +mysterious "chief of the Golden Circle" has withdrawn from public +practice. A marked and dangerous man.</p> +<p>It would be an insult to the gallant dead whose blood watered +the fields of the South, for Philip Hardin to take the "iron-clad +oath" required now of practitioners.</p> +<p>Respected for his abilities, feared by his adversaries, +shunned for his pro-secession views, Philip Hardin walks alone. +No overt act can be fastened on him, Otherwise, instead of gazing +on Alcatraz Island from his mansion windows, he might be behind +those frowning walls, where the 15-inch Columbiads spread their +radial lines of fire, to cross those of the works of Black Point, +Fort Point, and Point Blunt. Many more innocent prisoners toil +there. He does not wish to swell their number. Philip Hardin +dares not take that oath in open court. His pride prevents, but, +even were he to offer it, the mockery would be too patent.</p> +<p>A happy excuse prevents his humiliation. Trustee of the vast +estate of Lagunitas, he has also his own affairs to direct. It is +a dignified retirement.</p> +<p>Another great passion fills his later days. Since the +wandering Comstock and Curry, proverbially unfortunate +discoverers, like Marshall, pointed to hundreds of millions for +the "silver kings," along Mount Davidson's stony, breast, he +gambles daily. The stock board is his play-room.</p> +<p>The mining stock exchange gives his maturer years the wilder +excitements of the old El Dorado.</p> +<p>Washoe, Nevada Territory, or the State of Nevada, the new +"Silverado" drives all men crazy. A city shines now along the +breast of the Storey County peaks, nine thousand feet above the +sea. The dulness of California's evolution is broken by the rush +to Washoe. Already the hardy prospectors spread out in that great +hunt for treasure which will bring Colorado, Idaho, and Montana, +crowned aspirants, bearing gifts of gold and silver, to the gates +of the Union. The whole West is a land of hidden treasures.</p> +<p>Speculation's mad fever seized on Hardin from the days of +1860. Shares, stocks, operations, schemes, all the wild devices +of hazard, fill up his days with exciting successes and damning +failures.</p> +<p>His name, prestige, and credit, carry him to the front. As in +the early days, his cool brain and nerve mark him as a desperate +gamester. But his stakes are now gigantic.</p> +<p>Secure in his mansion house, with private wires in his study, +he operates through many brokers and agents. His interrupted law +business is transferred to less prominent Southern advocates.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin's fine hand is everywhere. Reliable dependants, +old prospecting friends and clients, keep him informed by private +cipher of every changing turn of the brilliant Virginia City +kaleidoscope.</p> +<p>Hardin gambles for pleasure, for vanity, and for excitement. +Led on by his desire to stand out from the mass of men, he throws +his fortune, mixed with the funds of Lagunitas, into the +maelstrom of California Street. Success and defeat alternate.</p> +<p>It is a transition time. While war rages in the East, the +California merchant kings are doubling fortunes in the cowardly +money piracy known as California's secession. The "specific +contract act" is the real repudiation of the government's lawful +money. This stab in the back is given to the struggling Union by +the well-fed freedom shriekers of the Union League. They howl, in +public, over their devotion to the interests of the land.</p> +<p>The future railroad kings of the Pacific, Stanford, Hopkins, +Crocker, Huntington, Colton, and their allies, are grasping the +gigantic benefits flowing from the Pacific Railroad, recommended +by themselves as a war measure. Heroes.</p> +<p>The yet uncrowned bonanza kings are men of obscure employment, +or salaried miners working for wages which would not in a month +pay their petty cash of a day in a few years.</p> +<p>Quiet Jim Flood, easy O'Brien, sly Jones, sturdy Mackay, and +that guileless innocent, "Jim Fair," are toiling miners or +"business men." Their peculiar talents are hidden by the +obscurity of humdrum, honest labor.</p> +<p>Hands soon to sway the financial sceptre, either mix the +dulcet cocktail, swing the pick, or else light with the miner's +candle the Aladdin caves to which they grope and burrow in daily +danger, deep hidden from public view. These "silver kings" are +only in embryo.</p> +<p>These two groups of remarkable men, the future railroad +princes, and the budding bonanza kings, represent cunning, +daring, energy, fortitude, and the remarkable powers of +transition of the Western resident.</p> +<p>The future land barons are as yet merely sly, waiting +schemers. They are trusting to compound interest, rotten +officials, and neglected laws to get possession of ducal domains. +The bankers, merchant princes, and stock operators are writing +their names fast in California's strange "Libro d'oro." All is +restlessness. All is a mere waiting for the turbid floods of +seething human life to settle down. In the newer discoveries of +Nevada, in the suspense of the war, the railroads are yet only +half finished, croaked at mournfully by the befogged Solons of +the press. All is transition.</p> +<p>It is only when the first generation of children born in +California will reach maturity in the 'eighties; only when the +tide of carefully planned migration from North and South, after +the war, reaches the West, that life becomes regular. Only when +the railways make the new State a world's thoroughfare, and the +slavery stain is washed from our flag, that civilization plants +the foundations of her solid temples along the Pacific.</p> +<p>There is no crystallization until the generation of mere +adventurers begin to drop into graves on hillside and by the sea. +The first gold-seekers must pass out from active affairs before +the real State is honestly builded up.</p> +<p>No man, not even Philip Hardin, could foresee, with the +undecided problems of 1860, what would be the status of +California in ten years, as to law, finance, commerce, or +morals.</p> +<p>A sudden start might take the mass of the people to a new +Frazer River or another Australia. They might rush to the wilds +of some frontier treasury of nature, now unknown.</p> +<p>Even Philip Hardin dared not dream that humble bar-keepers +would blossom out into great bank presidents, that signatures, +once potent only on the saloon "slate," would be smiled on by +"friend Rothschild" and "brother Baring." The "lightning changes" +of the burlesque social life of Western America begin to appear. +It is a wild dream that the hands now toiling with the pick or +carrying the miner's tin dinner-pail, would close in friendship +on the aristocratic palm of H.R.H. Albert Edward, the Prince of +Wales. The "chambermaid's own" romances would not dare to predict +that ladies bred to the broom and tub or the useful omnipotent +"fry pan," would smile on duchesses, crony with princesses, or +regulate their visiting lists by the "Almanach de Gotha."</p> +<p>Their great magician is Gold. In power, in pleasing witchery +of potent influence; insidious flattery of pleasure; in +remorseless persecution of the penniless, all wonders are its +work. Ariel, Mephisto, Moloch, thou, Gold! King Gold! and thy +brother, Silver!</p> +<p>While Philip Hardin speculated from his lofty eyrie, the San +Francisco hills are now covered with the unsubstantial palaces of +the first successful residents. He dared not dream that the +redwood boxes called mansions, in which the wealthy lived in the +days of '60, would give way to the lordly castles of "Nob +Hill."</p> +<p>These castles, whether of railroad tyrant, bonanza baron, or +banking conspirator, were yet castles in the air.</p> +<p>Perched in lofty isolation now, they architecturally dominate +the meaner huts below. Vulgar monuments of a social upheaval +which beggars the old stories of fairy changelings, of Sancho +Panza, of "Barney the Baron," or "Monte Cristo."</p> +<p>In the days of '60, Philip Hardin is too busy with plot and +scheme, with daily plunging, and dreaming over the fate of +Lagunitas, to notice the social elevation of the more aspiring +male and female adventurers. The rising tide of wealth grows. +Judicious use of early gained riches, trips to Europe, furtive +lessons, the necessities of the changed station, and an unlimited +cheek and astounding adaptability change the lucky men and women +whom fortune's dower has ennobled. They are all now "howling +swells."</p> +<p>Some never reach as high as the "Monarchs of Mount Davidson," +who were pretty high up at the start, nearly a mile and a half. +In many cases, King Midas's Court shows very fairly scattered +promotions.</p> +<p>Society's shoddy geometry gives a short-cut for "my lady's +maid" to become "my lady." She surely knows "how to dress." The +lady who entertains well, in some cases does so with long +experience as a successful professional cook.</p> +<p>Some who dropped into California with another woman's husband, +forget, while rolling in their carriages, that they ever had one +of their own. Children with no legal parents have not learned the +meaning of "filius nullius." From the bejewelled mass of +vigorous, keen upstarts, now enriched by stocks, the hardy +children of the great bonanzas, rises the chorus, "Let the past +rest. We have passed the gates of Gold."</p> +<p>To the "newer nobility of California," is given local golden +patents. They cover modest paternal names and many shady personal +antecedents.</p> +<p>In a land without a past, the suddenly enriched speculators +reign in mart and parlor. They rule society and the Exchange. In +a great many cases, a judicious rearrangement of marriage proves +that the new-made millionnaires value their recently acquired +"old wines" and "ancient pictures," more than their aging wives. +They bring much warmth of social color into the local breezy +atmosphere of this animated Western picture, these new +arrangements of Hymen.</p> +<p>Hardin, plunging into the general madness of stock +speculation, destined to reign for twenty years, keeps his own +counsel. He sneers not at the households queened over by the +"Doubtful Loveliness" of the "Rearranged Aristocracy of the +Pacific." He has certain twinges when he hears the laughing girl +child at play in the bowers of his park. While the ex-queen of +the El Dorado, now a marvel of womanly beauty, gazes on that +dancing child, she cannot yet see, among the many flashing gems +loading her hands, the plain circlet of a wedding ring.</p> +<p>No deeper consecration than the red blood of the murdered +gambler ever sealed the lawless union of the "Chief of the Golden +Circle" with the peerless "Empress of Rouge et Noir."</p> +<p>Her facile moods, restrained passions, blind devotion, and +self-acquired charms of education, keep Philip Hardin strangely +faithful to a dark bond.</p> +<p>Luxury, in its most insidious forms, woos to dreamy enjoyment +the not guileless Adam and Eve of this hidden western +Paradise.</p> +<p>There is neither shame nor the canker of regret brooding over +these "children of knowledge," who have tasted the clusters of +the "Tree of Life."</p> +<p>Within and without, it is the same. Philip Hardin is not the +only knave and unpunished murderer in high place. His "Gulnare" +is not the only lovely woman here, who bears unabashed the burden +of a hideous past. A merit is peculiar to this guilty, +world-defying pair. They seek no friends, obtrude on no external +circles, and parade no lying sham before local +respectability.</p> +<p>It is not so with others. The bench, the forum, the highest +places, the dazzling daily displays of rough luxury, are thronged +by transformed "Nanas" and resolute climbers of the social +trapeze. The shameless motto flaunts on their free-lance banners, +golden-bordered:</p> +<p>"Pour y parvenir."</p> +<p>Philip Hardin smiles, on the rare occasions when he enters the +higher circles of "society," to see how many fair faces light up, +in strange places, with a smile of recognition. How many rosy +lips are closed with taper fingers, hinting, "Don't ask me how I +got here; I AM! here!"</p> +<p>In his heartless indifference to the general good, he greets +the promoted "ladies" with grave courtesy. It is otherwise with +the upstart men. His pride of brain and life-long station makes +him haughtily indifferent to them. He will not grovel with these +meaner human clods.</p> +<p>A sardonic grin relaxes his dark visage as he sees them go +forth to "shine" in the East and "abroad."</p> +<p>Why should not the men of many aliases, the heroes of brawl +and murder, of theft and speculation, freely mix with the more +polished money sharks swarming in the Eastern seas of financial +piracy?</p> +<p>"Arcades ambo!" Bonanza bullion rings truer than the paper +millions of shoddy and petroleum. The alert, bright free-lances +of the West are generally more interesting than the "shoddy" +magnates or "contract" princes of the war. They are, at least, +robust adventurers; the others are only money-ennobled Eastern +mushrooms.</p> +<p>The Western parvenu is the more picturesque. The cunning +railroad princes have, at least, built SOMETHING. It is a nobler +work than the paper constructions of Wall Street operators. It +may be jeered, that these men "builded better than they knew." +Hardin feels that on one point they never can be ridiculed, even +by Eastern magnate, English promoter, or French financier. They +can safely affirm they grasped all they could. They left no +humble sheaf unreaped in the clean-cut fields of their work. They +took all in sight.</p> +<p>Hardin recognizes the clean work of the Western money +grabbers, as well and truly done. The railroad gang, bonanza +barons, and banking clique, sweep the threshing floor. Nothing +escapes them.</p> +<p>He begins to feel, in the giant speculations of 1862 and 1863, +that luck can desert even an old gamester, at life's exciting +table. He suffers enormously, yet Lagunitas's resources are +behind him.</p> +<p>In the long fight of the street, victory perches with the +strongest battalions. Philip Hardin cannot know that men toiling +by the day in obscure places now, will yet exchange cigars with +royal princes. They will hobnob with the Hapsburgs. They will +enter racing bets in the jewelled notebooks of grand dukes. They +copy the luxuries, the inborn vices of the blue blood of Europe's +crowned Sardanapalian autocrats.</p> +<p>From saloon to salon, from kitchen to kirmess, from the faro +table to the Queen's drawing-room, from the canvas trousers of +the miner to Poole's creations, from the calico frock of the +housemaid to Worth's dazzling masterpieces, from making omelets +to sneering at operas, the great social lightning-change act goes +on.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin loves his splendid home, where the foot of +Hortense Duval sinks in the tufted glories of Persia and the +Wilton looms. He does not marvel to see ex-cattle-drovers, +promoted waiters, lucky lemonade-sellers, and Pike County +discoverers, buying gold watch-chains by the pound. They boast +huge golden time-pieces, like young melons. Their diamond cluster +pins are as resplendent as crystal door-knobs.</p> +<p>Fair hands, fresh from the healthful contact of washing-soda, +wave recognition to him from coupe or victoria. In some cases +these are driven by the millionnaire himself, who insists on +"holding the ribbons."</p> +<p>The newspapers, in the recherche society columns, refer to the +grandeur of the "Gold Hill" outfit, the Virginia City "gang," the +Reese River "hummers," or the Eberhardt "crowd." These are the +Golden Horde.</p> +<p>These lucky children of fortune mingle with the stock-brokers, +who, resplendent in attire, and haughty of demeanor, fill the +thousand offices of speculation. They disdain the meaner element, +as they tool their drags over the Cliff Road to bathe in +champagne, and listen to the tawdry Phrynes and bedraggled +Aspasias who share their vulture feast of the moment.</p> +<p>It is a second descent of male and female harpies. Human +nature, loosened from long restraint by the war, has flooded the +coast with the moral debris of the conflict. It is a reign of the +Bacchanals.</p> +<p>"After all," thinks Philip Hardin, as he sees these dazzling +rockets rise, with golden trails, into the social darkness of the +Western skies, "they are really the upper classes here. Their +power of propulsion to the zenith is inherent in themselves. If +they mingle, in time, with the aristocratic noblesse of Europe, +they may infuse a certain picturesque element." Hardin realizes +that some of the children of these millionnaires of a day will +play at school with young princes, their girls will marry titles, +and adorn their smallest belongings with excrescent coronets and +coats of arms, won in the queer lottery of marriage.</p> +<p>"It is well," the cold lawyer muses. "After all, many of the +aristocracy of Europe are the descendants of expert +horse-thieves, hired bravos, knights who delighted to roast the +merchant for his fat money-bags, or spit the howling peasant on +their spears. Many soft-handed European dames feel the fiery +blood burning in their ardent bosoms. In some cases, a reminder +of the beauty whose easy complaisance caught a monarch's smile +and earned an infamous title. Rapine, murder, lust, oppression, +high-handed bullying, servile slavishness in every vile +abandonment, have bred up delicate, dreamy aristocrats. Their +ancestors, by the two strains, were either red-handed marauders, +or easy Delilahs."</p> +<p>The God-given title to batten in luxury, is one which depends +now on the possession of golden wealth. It finally burns its +gleaming pathway through every barrier.</p> +<p>With direct Western frankness, the Pacific "jeunesse doree" +will date from bonanza or railroad deal. Spoliated don, stolen +franchise, giant stock-job, easy political "coup de main," +government lands scooped in, or vast tracts of timber stolen +under the law's easy formalities, are their quarterings. Whiskey +sellers, adventuresses, and the minor fry of fighting henchmen, +make up the glittering train of these knights. The diamond-decked +dames of this "Golden Circle" exclaim in happy chorus, as they +sit in the easy-chairs of wealth's thronging courts:</p> +<p>"This is the way we long have sought, And mourned because we +found it not."</p> +<p>But riding behind Philip Hardin is the grim horseman, Care. He +mourns his interrupted political career. The end of the war +approaches. His spirited sultana now points to the lovely child. +Her resolute lips speak boldly of marriage.</p> +<p>Hardin wonders if any refluent political wave may throw him up +to the senate or the governor's chair. His powers rust in +retirement. He fears the day when his stewardship of Lagunitas +may be at an end.</p> +<p>He warily determines to get rid of Padre Francisco as soon as +possible. The death of Donna Dolores places all in his hands. As +he confers with the quick-witted ex-queen of the El Dorado, he +decides that he must remove the young Mariposa heiress to San +Francisco. It is done. Philip Hardin cannot travel continually to +watch over a child.</p> +<p>"Kaintuck" and the sorrowing padre alone are left at +Lagunitas. The roses fall unheeded in the dead lady's bower. On +this visit, when Hardin takes the child to the mansion on the +hill, he learns the padre only awaits the return of Maxime +Valois, to retire to France. Unaware of the great strength of the +North and East, the padre feels the land may be held in the +clutches of war a long period. He would fain end his days among +the friends of his youth. As he draws toward old age, he yearns +for France. Hardin promises to assist the wishes of the old +priest.</p> +<p>After Padre Francisco retires to the silent cottage by the +chapel, Hardin learns from "Kaintuck" a most momentous secret. +There are gold quartz mines of fabulous richness on the Lagunitas +grant. Slyly extracting a few tons of rock, "Kaintuck" has had +these ores worked, and gives Philip Hardin the marvellous +results.</p> +<p>Hardin's dark face lights up: "Have you written Colonel Valois +of this?" "Not a word," frankly says "Kaintuck."</p> +<p>"Judge, I did not want to bring a swarm of squatters over our +lines. I thought to tell you alone, and you could act with +secrecy. If they stake off claims, we will have a rush on our +hands."</p> +<p>Hardin orders the strictest silence. As he lies in the guest +chamber of Lagunitas, Philip Hardin is haunted all night by a +wild unrest. If Lagunitas were only his. There is only Valois +between him and the hidden millions in these quartz veins. Will +no Yankee bullet do its work?</p> +<p>The tireless brain works on, as crafty Philip Hardin slumbers +that night. Visions of violence, of hidden traps, of well-planned +crime, haunt his dreams. Only "Kaintuck" knows. Secretly, bit by +bit, he has brought in these ores. They have been smuggled out +and worked, with no trace of their real origin. No one knows but +one. Though old "Kaintuck" feels no shadow over his safety, the +sweep of the dark angel's wing is chilling his brow. He knows too +much.</p> +<p>When Hardin returns to San Francisco he busies himself with +Lagunitas. His brow is dark as he paces the deck of the Stockton +steamer. Hortense Duval has provided him with a servant of great +discretion to care for the child. Marie Berard is the typical +French maid. Deft, neat-handed, she has an eye like a hawk. Her +little pet weaknesses and her vices give spice to an otherwise +colorless character.</p> +<p>The boat steams down past the tule sloughs. Hardin's cigar +burns late on the deck as he plots alone.</p> +<p>When he looks over his accumulated letters, he seizes eagerly +a packet of papers marked "Havana." Great God!</p> +<p>He has read of Sherman's occupation of Atlanta. The struggle +of Peachtree Creek brought curses on Tecumseh's grizzled head. +Now, with a wildly beating heart, he learns of the death of +Colonel Valois among the captured guns of De Gress. As the last +pages are scanned, he tears open the legal documents. The cold +beads stand out on his brow. He is master now. The king is +dead!</p> +<p>He rings for Madame Duval. With shaking hand, he pours a +draught from the nearest decanter. He is utterly unnerved. The +prize is at last within his grasp. It shall be his alone!</p> +<p>Lighting a fresh cigar he paces the room, a human tiger. There +is but one frail girl child between him and Lagunitas, with its +uncoined millions. He must act. To be deep and subtle as a +thieving Greek, to be cold and sneaking as an Apache, to be as +murderous as a Malay creeping, creese in hand, over the bulwarks +of a merchantman,—all that is to be only himself. Power is +his for aye.</p> +<p>But to be logically correct, to be wise and safe in secret +moves. Time to think? Yes. Can he trust Hortense Duval? Partly. +He needs that devilish woman's wit of hers. Will he tell her all? +No. Professional prudence rules. A dark scheme has formulated +itself in his brain, bounding under the blow of the brandy.</p> +<p>He will get Hortense out of the State, under the pretext of +sending the colonel's child to Paris. The orphan's education must +be brilliant.</p> +<p>He will have no one know of the existence of Valois' mine. If +"Kaintuck" were only gone. Yes! Yes! the secret of the mines. If +the priest were only in France and locked up in his cloister. The +long minority of the child gives time to reap the golden +harvest.</p> +<p>A sudden thought: the child may not live! His teeth chatter. +As he paces the room, Hortense enters. She sees on his face the +shadow of important things.</p> +<p>"What has happened, Philip?" she eagerly asks.</p> +<p>"Sit down, Hortense. Listen to me," says Hardin, as he sees +the doors all secure.</p> +<p>Her heart beats fast. Is this the end of all? She has feared +it daily.</p> +<p>"How would you like to live in Paris?" he ejaculates.</p> +<p>He watches her keenly, pacing to and fro. A wild hope leaps +up. Will he retire, and live his days out abroad? Is the marriage +to come at last?</p> +<p>"Philip, I don't understand you," she murmurs. Her bosom +heaves within its rich silks, under its priceless laces. The +sparkling diamonds in her hair glisten, as she gazes on his +inscrutable face. Is this heaven or hell? Paradise or a lonely +exile? To have a name at last for her child?</p> +<p>"Colonel Valois was killed at the battles near Atlanta. I have +just received from the Havana bankers the final letters of Major +Peyton, his friend." Hardin speaks firmly.</p> +<p>"Under the will, that child Isabel inherits the vast property. +She must be educated in France. Some one must take care of +her."</p> +<p>Hortense leans over, eagerly. What does he mean? "There is no +one but me to look after her. The cursed Yankees will probably +devastate the South. I dare not probate his will just now. There +is confiscation and all such folly."</p> +<p>Philip Hardin resumes his walk. "I do not wish to pay heavy +war taxes and succession tax on all this great estate. I must +remain here and watch it. I must keep the child's existence and +where-abouts quiet. The courts could worry me about her removal. +Can I trust you, Hortense?" His eyes are wolfish. He stops and +fixes a burning glance on her. She returns it steadily.</p> +<p>"What do you wish me to do?" she says, warily.</p> +<p>It will be years and years she must remain abroad.</p> +<p>"Can I trust you to go over with that child, and watch her +while I guard this great estate? You shall have all that money +and my influence can do for you. You can live as an independent +lady and see the great world."</p> +<p>She rises and faces him, a beautiful, expectant goddess. +"Philip, have I been true to you these years?"</p> +<p>He bows his head. It is so! She has kept the bond.</p> +<p>"Do I go as your wife?" Her voice trembles with eagerness.</p> +<p>"No. But you may earn that place by strictly following my +wishes." He speaks kindly. She is a grand woman after all. Bright +tears trickle through her jewelled fingers. She has thrown +herself on the fauteuil. The woman of thirty is a royal beauty, +her youthful promise being more than verified. She is a queen of +luxury.</p> +<p>"Listen to me, Hortense," says Hardin, softly. He seats +himself by her side and takes the lovely hands in his. His +persuasive voice flows like honey. "I am now surrounded by +enemies. I am badly compromised. I am all tied up. I fear the +Union League, the government spies, and the damned Yankee +officers here. One foolish move would utterly ruin me. If you +will take this child you can take any name you wish. No one knows +you in Paris. I will have the bankers and our Southern friends +vouch for you in society. I will support you, so you can move +even in the Imperial circles. If you are true to me, in time I +will do as you wish. I dare not now." He is plausible, and knows +how to plead. This woman, loving and beloved, cannot hold +out.</p> +<p>"Think of our child, Philip," cries Hortense, as she throws +herself on his breast. He is moved and yet he lies.</p> +<p>"I do at this very moment, Hortense. I am not a rich man, for +I have lost much for the South. These Yankee laws keep me out of +court. I dare not get in their power. If I hold this estate, I +will soon be able to settle a good fortune on Irene. I swear to +you, she shall be my only heiress except yourself. You can take +Irene with you and give her a superb education. You will be doing +a true mother's duty. I will place such a credit and funds for +you that the future has no fears. When I am free to act, 'when +this foolish war is over,' I can come to you. Will you do as I +wish?"</p> +<p>"Philip, give me till to-morrow to think. I have only you in +the world." The beautiful woman clings to him. He feels she will +yield. He is content to wait.</p> +<p>While they talk, the two children chatter under the window in +childish glee.</p> +<p>"Hortense, you must act at once! to-morrow! The steamer leaves +in three days. I wish you to go by Panama direct to France. New +York is no place for you. I will have much to arrange. I will +give you to-night. Now leave me, for I have many papers to draw +up."</p> +<p>In her boudoir, Hortense Duval sits hours dreaming, her eyes +fixed on vacancy. All the hold she has on Hardin is her daily +influence, and HIS child. To go among strangers. To be alone in +the world. And yet, her child's future interests. While Hardin +paces the floor below, or toils at his cunningly worded papers, +she feels she is in the hands of a master.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin's late work is done. By the table he dreams over +the future. Hortense will surely work his will. He will divest +himself of the priest. He must open these mines. He will get rid +of "Kaintuck;" but how?</p> +<p>Dark thoughts come to him. He springs up aghast at the clatter +when his careless arm brushes off some costly trifles. With the +priest gone forever and the child in Paris, he has no stumbling +block in his way but "Kaintuck." There are ways; yes, +ways.——!——!——!——!</p> +<p>"He must go on a journey; yes, a long, long journey." Hardin +stops here, and throwing himself on his couch, drifts out on the +sea of his uneasy dreams.</p> +<p>Morning proves to him Hortense is resigned; an hour's conclave +enlightens her as to the new life. Every contingency will be met. +Hortense, living in wealth's luxurious retirement, will be +welcomed as Madame Natalie de Santos, everywhere. A wealthy young +widow, speaking French and Spanish, with the best references. She +will wear a discreet mask of Southern mystery, and an +acknowledged relationship to families of Mexico and California. +Her personal appearance, tact, and wealth will be an appropriate +dower to the new acquisition of the glittering Capital of +Pleasure. She is GOOD ENOUGH for Paris.</p> +<p>Rapidly, every preparation moves on. The luggage of Madame de +Santos is filled with the varied possessions indicating years of +elegance. Letters to members of the Confederate court circle at +Paris are social endorsements. Wealth will do the rest.</p> +<p>Hardin's anxiety is to see the heiress lodged at the "Sacred +Heart" at Paris. In his capacity as guardian, he delegates sole +power to Madame Natalie de Santos. She alone can control the +little lady of Lagunitas. With every resource, special attentions +will be paid to the party, from Panama, on the French line. The +hegira consists of the two children, Marie Berard, and the +nameless lady, soon to be rebaptized "Natalie de Santos." Not +unusual in California,—!—a golden butterfly.</p> +<p>Vague sadness fills Hortense Duval's heart as she wanders +through her silent mansion, choosing these little belongings +which are dear to her shadowed heart. They will rob a Parisian +home of suspicious newness. The control of the heiress as well as +their own child, the ample monetary provision, and the social +platform arranged for her, prove Hardin's devotion. It is the +best she can do.</p> +<p>True, he cannot now marry with safety. He has promised to +right that wrong in time.</p> +<p>There has been no want of tenderness in his years of devotion. +Hortense Duval acknowledges to herself that he dares not own her +openly, as his wife, even here. But in Paris, after a year or so. +Then he could come, at least as far as New York. He could meet +her, and by marriage, legitimize his child. Her child. The +tiger's darling.</p> +<p>A sudden thought strikes her. Some other woman!—Some one +of REAL station and blood. Ah, no! She shivers slightly as she +paces the room. No corner of the earth could hide him from her +vengeance if he betrays her.</p> +<p>The dinner of the last evening is a serious feast. As Hortense +ministers to the dark master of the house, she can see he has not +fully disclosed his ultimate plans. It is positive the child must +be hidden away at Paris from all. Hardin enjoins silence as to +the future prospects of the orphan. The little one has already +forgotten her father. She is rapidly losing all memories of her +sweet mother.</p> +<p>In the silence of these last hours, Philip Hardin speaks to +the woman who has been his only intimate in years.</p> +<p>"Hortense, I may find a task for you which will prove your +devotion," he begins with reluctance.</p> +<p>"What is it, Philip?" she falters.</p> +<p>He resumes. "I do not know how far I may be pushed by trouble. +I shall have to struggle and fight to hold my own. I am safe for +a time, but I may be pushed to the wall. Will you, for the sake +of our own child, do as I bid you with that Spanish brat?"</p> +<p>At last she sees his gloomy meaning. Is it murder? An orphan +child!</p> +<p>"Philip," she sobs, "be careful! For MY SAKE, for YOUR OWN." +She is chilled by his cold designs.</p> +<p>"Only at the last. Just as I direct, I may wish you to control +the disappearance of that young one, who stands between me and +our marriage."</p> +<p>She seizes his hands: "Swear to me that you will never deceive +me."</p> +<p>"I do," he answers huskily.</p> +<p>"On the cross," she sternly says, flashing before his startled +eyes a jewelled crucifix. "I will obey you—I swear it on +this—as long as you are true." She presses her ashy lips on +the cross.</p> +<p>He kisses it. The promise is sealed.</p> +<p>In a few hours, Hortense Duval, from the deck of the swift +Golden Gate, sees the sunlight fall for the last time, in long +years, on San Francisco's sandy hills.</p> +<p>With peculiar adroitness, in defence of her past, for the sake +of her future position, she keeps her staterooms; only walking +the decks with her maid occasionally at night. No awkward +travelling pioneer must recognize her as the lost "Beauty of the +El Dorado." A mere pretence of illness is enough.</p> +<p>When safely out of the harbor of Colon, on the French steamer, +she is perfectly free. Her passage tickets, made out as Madame de +Santos, are her new credentials.</p> +<p>She has left her old life behind her. Keen and self-possessed, +with quiet dignity she queens it on the voyage. When the French +coast is reached, her perfect mastery of herself proves she has +grown into her new position.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin has whispered at the last, "I want you to get +rid of your maid in a few months. It is just as well she should +be out of the way."</p> +<p>When out of Hardin's influence, reviewing the whole situation, +Hortense, in her real character, becomes a little fearful. What +if he should drop her? Suppose he denies her identity. He can +legally reclaim the "Heiress of Lagunitas." Hortense Duval well +knows that Philip Hardin will stop at nothing. As the French +coast nears, Hortense mentally resolves NOT to part with Marie +Berard. Marie is a valuable witness of the past relations. She is +the only safeguard she has against Hardin's manifold schemes. So +far there is no "entente cordiale" between mistress and maid. +They watch each other.</p> +<p>By hazard, as the children are brought out, ready for the +landing, Hortense notices the similarity of dress, the speaking +resemblance of the children. Marie Berard, proud of their +toilettes, remarks, "Madame, they are almost twins in looks."</p> +<p>Hortense Duval's lightning mind conceives a daring plan. She +broods in calm and quiet, as the cars bear her from Havre to +Paris. She must act quickly. She knows Hardin may use more ways +of gaining information than her own letters. His brain is +fertile. His purse, powerful.</p> +<p>Going to an obscure hotel, she procures a carriage. She drives +alone to the Convent of the Sacre Coeur. With perfect +tranquillity she announces her wishes. The Mother Superior, +personally, is charmed with Madame de Santos. A mere mention of +her banking references is sufficient. Blest power of gold!</p> +<p>Madame Natalie de Santos is in good humor when she regains her +apartment. On the next morning, after a brief visit to her +bankers, who receive her "en princesse," she drives alone with +her OWN child to the Sacred Heart. While the little one prattles +with some engaging Sisters, Hortense calmly registers the +nameless child of sin as ISABEL VALOIS, THE HEIRESS OF LAGUNITAS. +A year's fees and payments are made. A handsome "outfit +allowance" provides all present needs suited to the child's +station. Arranging to send the belongings of the heiress to the +convent, Hortense Duval buries her past forever in giving to her +own child the name and station of the heiress of Lagunitas. To +keep a hold on Hardin she will place the other child where that +crafty lawyer can never find her. Her bosom swells with pride. +Now, at last, she can control the deepest plans of Philip Hardin. +But if he should demand their own child? He has no legal power +over the nameless one—not even here. Marriage first. After +that, the secret. It is a MASTER STROKE.</p> +<p>Hortense Duval thinks only of her own child. She cares nothing +for the dead Confederate under the Georgia pines. Gentle Dolores +is sleeping in the chapel grounds at Lagunitas. Isabel Valois has +not a friend in the world!</p> +<p>But, Marie Berard must be won and controlled. Why not? It is +fortune for her to be true to her liberal mistress. Berard knows +Paris and has friends. She will see them. If the maid be +discharged, Hortense loses her only witness against Hardin; her +only safeguard. As Madame de Santos is ushered to her rooms, she +decides to act at once, and drop forever her past. But Marie?</p> +<p>Marie Berard wonders at the obscure hotel. Her brain finds no +reason for this isolation. "Ah! les modes de Paris." Madame will +soon emerge as a lovely vision.</p> +<p>In the years of her service with Hortense Duval, Marie has +quietly enriched herself. She knows the day of parting comes in +all unlawful connections. Time and fading charms, coldness and +the lassitude of habit, eat away the golden chain till it drops +off. "On se range enfin."</p> +<p>The "femme de chambre" knows too much to ever think of +imposing on Judge Hardin. He is too sly. It is from Madame de +Santos the golden stream must flow.</p> +<p>Self-satisfied, Marie Berard smiles in her cat-like way as she +thinks of a nice little house in Paris. Its income will support +her. She will nurse this situation with care. It is a gold +mine.</p> +<p>There is no wonderment in her keen eyes when Madame de Santos +returns without the child she took away. A French maid never +wonders. But she is astonished when her mistress, calling her, +calmly says, pointing to the lonely orphan:</p> +<p>"Marie, I wish you to aid me to get rid of this child. Do you +know any one in Paris whom we can trust?"</p> +<p>"Will Madame kindly explain?" the maid gasps, her visions of +that snug house becoming more definite.</p> +<p>"Sit down, Marie," the newly christened Madame de Santos +commands. "I will trust you. You shall be richly rewarded."</p> +<p>The Frenchwoman's eyes glitter. The golden shower she has +longed for, "Auri sacra fames."</p> +<p>"You may trust me perfectly, Madame."</p> +<p>"I wish you to understand me fully. We must act at once. I +will see no friends till this girl is out of the way. Then I +shall at once arrange my household."</p> +<p>"Does the young lady not go to the convent?" says the +astonished servant, a trifle maliciously.</p> +<p>"Certainly not," coldly says Hortense. "My own child shall be +the heiress of that fortune. She is already at the Sacred +Heart."</p> +<p>Marie Berard's keen eye sees the plot. An exchange of +children. The nameless child shall be dowered with millions. Her +own future is assured.</p> +<p>"Does any one know of this plan?" the maid eagerly asks.</p> +<p>"Only you and I," is the response.</p> +<p>Ah! Revenge on her stately tyrant lover. The maid dreams of a +golden shower. That snug hotel. It is a delicious moment. "What +do you wish me to do, Madame?" Marie is now cool.</p> +<p>"Find a place, at once, where the child can be well treated in +a 'bourgeois' family. I want you to place her as if she were your +own. I wish no one to ever see me or know of me in this +matter."</p> +<p>The maid's eyes sparkle. Fortune's wheel turns. "And I shall +be—" she pauses.</p> +<p>"You may be suspected to be the mother. No one can learn +anything from the child. I wish her to be raised in +ignorance."</p> +<p>Madame de Santos is a genius in a quiet way. It is true, the +prattling heiress, on the threshold of a new life, speaks only +Spanish and a little English. She has forgotten her father. Even +now her mother fades from her mind. A few passing months will +sweep away all memories of Lagunitas. The children are nearly the +same age, and not dissimilar.</p> +<p>"And the Judge?" murmurs the servant.</p> +<p>"I will take care of that," sharply says Hortense.</p> +<p>"Madame, it is a very great responsibility," begins the sly +maid, now confidante. There is a strong sharp accent on the +"very."</p> +<p>"I will pay you as you never dreamed of being paid." Madame +Natalie is cool and quiet. Gold, blessed gold!</p> +<p>"It is well. I am yours for life," says Marie Berard. The two +women's eyes meet. They understand one another. Feline, +prehensile nerves.</p> +<p>Then, action at once. Hortense hands the woman a package of +bank-notes. "Leave here as if for a walk. Take a 'fiacre' on the +street, and go to your friends. You tell me you have some +discreet ones. Tell them you have a child to take care of. Say no +more. They will guess the rest. I want the child to be left +to-morrow morning. After your return we can arrange her present +needs. The rest you can provide through your friends. I want you +to see the child once a week, not oftener. Go."</p> +<p>In ten minutes Marie Berard is rolling away to her advisers. +Her letter has already announced her arrival. She knows her +Paris. If a French maid has a heart history, hers is a succession +of former Parisian scenes.</p> +<p>Madame Natalie de Santos closes the doors. While her emissary +is gone she examines the child thoroughly. Not a single blemish +or peculiar mark on the girl, save a crossed scar on her left +arm, between the wrist and elbow. Some surgical operation of +trifling nature has left a mark in its healing, which will be +visible for many years.</p> +<p>Making careful mental note, the impatient woman awaits her +servant's return.</p> +<p>Seated, she watches the orphan child trifling with her +playthings. Hortense Duval feels no twinge of conscience. Her own +child shall be lifted far beyond the storms of fate. If Hardin +acts rightly, all is well. If he attempts to betray her, all the +better. She will guard the heiress of Mariposa with her life. She +shall become a "bourgeoise."</p> +<p>Should Hardin die before he marries her, the base-born child +is then sure of the millions. She will make her a woman of the +world. When the great property is safely hers, then she can trust +HER OWN daughter.</p> +<p>As to the poor orphan, buried in Paris, educated as a +"bourgeoise," she will never see her face, save perhaps, as a +passing stranger. The child can be happy in the solid comforts of +a middle-class family. It is good enough for her.</p> +<p>And Marie Berard. She needs her, at all cost, as a protection, +the only bulwark against any dark scheme of Hardin's. Her tool, +and her one witness.</p> +<p>Ten years in the mansion on the hills of San Francisco have +given her an insight into Philip Hardin's desperate moves on the +chessboard of life. Love, faith, truth, she dares not expect. A +lack of fatherly tenderness to the child he has wronged; his +refusal to put a wedding ring on her own finger, tell her the +truth. She knows her hold is slight. But NOW the very millions of +Lagunitas shall fight against him. Move for move in the play. +Blow for blow, if it comes to a violent rupture.</p> +<p>Hortense Duval might lose her hold on cold Philip Hardin. The +scheming beauty smiles when she thinks how true Marie Berard will +be to the new Madame de Santos. A thorough adventuress, she can +count on her fellow-conspirator. Two smart women, with a solid +golden bond, united against a distant, aging man.</p> +<p>Marie returns, her business-like manner showing no change. "I +have found the family," she says. "They will take the child at +once."</p> +<p>In the evening every arrangement is made for an early +departure. It is a rare day's work.</p> +<p>Marie Berard conducts the friendless child to its new home, in +the morning hours. The luggage and belongings are despatched. All +is over. Safe at last.</p> +<p>Free to move, as soon as the maid returns, Hortense at once +leaves her modest quarters. The bills are all paid. Their +belongings are packed as for departure. To the Hotel Meurice, by +a roundabout route, mistress and maid repair. Hortense Duval is +no more. A new social birth.</p> +<p>Madame de Santos, in superb apartments, proceeds to arrange +her entree into future social greatness. A modern miracle.</p> +<p>No one has seen the children together in Paris. On the steamer +not a suspicion was raised. Natalie de Santos breathes freely. A +few days of preparation makes Madame "au fait" in the newest +fashions. Her notes, cartes de visite, dazzling "batterie de +toilette," and every belonging bear crest, monogram, and initial +of the new-born Senora Natalie.</p> +<p>Securely lodged in an aristocratic apartment, Madame de Santos +receives her bankers, and the members of the Southern circle, to +whom the Judge has given her the freemasonry of his influence. +Madame de Santos is now a social fact, soon to find her old life +a waning memory. The glittering splendors of the court gaieties +are her everyday enjoyments.</p> +<p>Keenly watching all Californians, protected by her former +retirement, her foreign appearance and glamour of wealth impose +on all. She soon almost forgets herself and that dark past before +the days of the El Dorado. She is at last secure within wealth's +impregnable ramparts, and defies adverse fate.</p> +<p>An apartment on the Champs Elysees is judiciously chosen by +her bankers. Marie Berard, with her useful allies, aids in the +selection of the exquisite adornment. Her own treasures aid in +the "ensemble."</p> +<p>The servants, the equipage of perfect appointment, all her +surroundings bespeak the innate refinement of the woman who has +for long years pleased even the exacting Hardin.</p> +<p>Natalie de Santos has not neglected to properly report by +telegraph and mail to the guardian of the person and future +millions of Col. Valois' only child.</p> +<p>Her attitude toward society is quiet, dignified, without haste +or ostentation. A beautiful woman, talented, free, rich, and "a +la mode," can easily reach the social pleasures of that gaudy set +who now throng the Tuileries.</p> +<p>There is not a care on Natalie de Santos' mind. Her own child +is visited, with a growing secret pleasure. She thrives in the +hands of the gentle ladies of the Sacred Heart.</p> +<p>Regularly, Marie Berard brings reports of the other child, +whose existence is important for the present.</p> +<p>Madame de Santos, discreetly veiled, finds time to observe the +location and movements of the orphan. Marie Berard's selection +has been excellent.</p> +<p>"Louise Moreau" is the new name of the changeling heiress, now +daily becoming more contented in her new home.</p> +<p>Aristide Dauvray has a happy household. A master decorative +workman, only lacking a touch of genius to be a sculptor, his +pride is in his artistic handiwork. His happiness in his good +wife Josephine. His heart centres in his talented boy.</p> +<p>To educate his only son Raoul, to be able to develop his +marked talent as an artist, has been Aristide's one ambition. The +proposition to take the girl, and the liberal payments promised, +assure the artistic future of Raoul. Marie Berard has appreciated +that the life of this orphan child is the measure of her own +golden fortunes. Good Josephine becomes attached to the shy, +sweet little wanderer, who forgets, day by day, in the new life +of Cinderella, her babyish glimpses of any other land.</p> +<p>Natalie de Santos is safe. Pressing her silken couch, she +rests in splendor. Her letters from Hardin are clear, yet not +always satisfactory. Years of daily observance have taught her to +read his character. As letter after letter arrives she cons them +all together. Not a word of personal tenderness. Not an +expression which would betray any of their secrets. With no +address or signature, they are full only in directions. He is +called for a length of time to Lagunitas, to put the estate in +"general order."</p> +<p>Removed from the sway of Hardin, Natalie relies upon herself. +Her buoyant wings bear her on in society. Recognized as an +opponent of the North, she meets those lingering Southern +sympathizers who have little side coteries yet in glittering +Paris.</p> +<p>Adulation of her beauty and sparkling wit fires her genius. +Her French is classic. The sealed book of her youth gives no hint +of where her fine idiom came from. Merrily Marie Berard recounts +to the luxurious social star the efforts of sly dames and +soft-voiced messieurs to fathom the "De Santos'" past.</p> +<p>Marie Berard is irreproachable; never presuming. She can +wait.</p> +<p>Madame Natalie's stormy past has taught her to trust no one. +It is her rule from the first that no one shall see Isabel +Valois, the pet of the Sacred Heart Convent, but herself. Little +remains in a month or two, with either child, of its cradle +memories. The months spent by the two girls in mastering a new +language are final extinguishers of the past.</p> +<p>Without undue affectation of piety, Madame de Santos gives +liberally. The good nuns strive to fit the young heiress for her +dazzling future.</p> +<p>Keenly curious of the dangers of the situation, Natalie writes +Hardin that she has sent her own child away to a country +institution, to prevent awkward inquiry. As months roll on, drawn +in by the whirlpool of pleasure, Natalie de Santos' letters +become brief. They are only statements of affairs to her absent +"financial agent."</p> +<p>Hardin's letters are acknowledgments of satisfactory news, and +directions regarding the education of the child. He does not +refer to the future of the woman who ruled his home so long. No +tenderness for his own child appears. He is engrossed in +BUSINESS, and she in PLEASURE. Avarice is the gentlemanly passion +of his later years. "Royal days of every pleasure" for the +brilliant woman; she, ambitious and self-reliant, lives only for +the happy moments.</p> +<p>And yet, as Natalie de Santos sweeps from palace ball or the +opera, she frames plans as to the future control of Hardin. To +keep the child he fears, where his agency can reach her, is her +aim. To place the child he would ignore, where millions will +surround her, is her ambition. With Marie Berard as friend, +confidante, agent, and spy, she can keep these two children +apart. Hortense Duval and Natalie Santos can defy the world.</p> +<p>Distrust of Hardin always burns in her breast. Will he dare to +attempt her life; to cut off her income; to betray her? When the +work of years is reflected in her own child's graces and charms, +will the man now aging ever give its mother the name of wife? Her +fears belie her hopes.</p> +<p>She must guard her own child, and conceal the other. He may +live and work out his schemes. If he acts well, she will be ready +to meet him. If not, the same.</p> +<p>But she has sworn in her heart of hearts, the orphan shall +live. If necessary to produce her, she alone knows her hiding +place. If fortune favors, the properties shall descend to her own +child.</p> +<p>The year 1865 opens with the maddest gaieties. Though France +is drained of men and treasure for a foolish war in Mexico, +glittering streets, rich salons, mad merry-makings and imperial +splendor do not warn gay Lutetia she is tottering toward the +dawning war-days of gloom. The French are drunk with +pleasure.</p> +<p>Marie Berard has now a nice little fund of ringing napoleons +securely invested, and that hoard is growing monthly. Natalie de +Santos gives freely, amply. The maid bides her time for a great +demand. She can wait.</p> +<p>A rare feminine genius is Natalie de Santos. The steady +self-poise of her nature prevents even a breath of scandal. +Frank, daring, and open in her pleasures, she individualizes no +swain, she encourages no one sighing lover. Her name needs no +defence save the open record of her social life. A solid, +undisturbed position grows around her. The dear-bought knowledge +of her youth enables her to read the vapid men and women around +her.</p> +<p>As keen-eyed as a hawk, Madame Natalie watches the scholar of +the Sacred Heart. She takes good care, also, to verify the +substantial comfort and fair education of little Louise +Moreau.</p> +<p>With silent lips she moves among the new associates of her +later days. Madame de Santos' position moves toward +impregnability, as the months roll on. A "lionne" at last.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV. — A MARIPOSA BONANZA.—NATALIE DE +SANTOS BORN IN PARIS.—THE QUEEN OF THE EL DORADO JOINS THE +GALLIC "FOUR HUNDRED."</h2> +<p>Philip Hardin's days are busy after the steamer bears away his +"Ex-Queen of the El Dorado." There are his tangled finances to +arrange; giant speculations to follow up. The Lagunitas affairs +are pressing. That hidden mine!</p> +<p>Hardin sets his house in order. The establishment is reduced. +He has, now, peace for his schemes. No petticoat rule now. No +prying eyes. As the winter rain howls among his trees, he +realizes that the crash of the Confederacy will bring back clouds +of stragglers from the ruin yet to come. He must take legal +possession of Lagunitas. He has a good reason. Its hidden gold +will give him power.</p> +<p>His public life is only cut off for a time. Gold is potent; +yes, omnipotent! He can bide his time. He must find that mine. He +has now two points to carry in his game. To rid himself of the +padre is easy, in time. To disembarrass himself of old "Kaintuck" +is another thing.</p> +<p>His face grows bitter as he thinks of the boundless wealth to +be reached in Lagunitas's glittering quartz beds. The property +must remain in his care.</p> +<p>If the heiress were to die, the public administrator might +take it. He knows he is not popular. His disloyalty is too well +known. Besides, Valois' death is not yet officially proven. He +has kept his counsel. No one has seen the will. But the returning +wave of Confederates may bring news. The dead colonel was of too +great local fame to drop unheeded into his grave.</p> +<p>His carefully prepared papers make him the representative of +Colonel Valois. He is legal guardian of the child. He will try +and induce "Kaintuck" to quit the rancho. Then he will be able to +open the mines. If the Confederacy totters to its fall, with the +control of that wealth he may yet hold the highest place on the +coast.</p> +<p>Dreaming over his cigar, he knows that legislatures can be +bought, governors approached, and high positions gained, by the +adroit use of gold. Bribery is of all times and places.</p> +<p>Telegraphing to "Kaintuck" to meet him near Stockton, at the +station, with a travelling carriage, the Judge revolves plans to +rid himself of this relic of the Valois r‚gime.</p> +<p>His stay at Lagunitas will be for some weeks. He has now +several agents ready to open up the mines.</p> +<p>A liberal use of the income of Lagunitas has buoyed up his +sinking credit. But his stock-gambling has been desperately +unlucky. Hardin revolves in his mind the displacement of old +"Kaintuck." The stage sweeps down the San Joaquin to the station, +where his team awaits him. An unwonted commotion greets him +there. His arrival is opportune. In the room which is the office, +bar, and billiard-room of the little hostelry, poor old +"Kaintuck" lies dying, when the Judge dismounts. It is the hand +of fate.</p> +<p>During the hours of waiting, a certain freedom, induced by +copious draughts of fiery Bourbon, caused the old foreman to +injudiciously "Hurrah for Jeff Davis." He gave free vent to his +peculiar Southern opinions.</p> +<p>A sudden quarrel with a stranger results in a quick resort to +weapons. Benumbed with age and whiskey, the old trapper is shot +while tugging at his heavy "Colt."</p> +<p>Before the smoke cleared away the stranger was far away. +Dashing off, he spurred his horse at full speed into the +chaparral. No one dared, no one cared, to follow a desperate man +riding for his life.</p> +<p>Hardin orders every attention to the sufferer. Old "Kaintuck" +is going out alone on the dark river.</p> +<p>Hardin, steeled to scenes like this, by an exciting life, +blesses this opportune relief. "Kaintuck" is off his hands +forever. Before the Judge leaves, a rude examination by a justice +precedes the simple obsequies of the dead ranger.</p> +<p>One more red mound by the wayside. A few pencilled words on a +shingle mark the grave, soon to be trampled down by the feet of +cattle and horses. So, one by one, many of the old pioneers leave +the theatre of their aimless lives.</p> +<p>The Judge, happy at heart, bears a grave face. He drives into +Lagunitas. Its fields looked never so fair. Seated in the mansion +house, with every luxury spread out before him, his delighted eye +rests on the diamond lake gleaming in the bosom of the fair +landscape. It already seems his own.</p> +<p>He settles in his easy-chair with an air of conscious +lordship. Padre Francisco, studiously polite, answers every deft +question. He bears himself with the self-possession of a man +merely doing his duty.</p> +<p>Does the priest know of the hidden gold mines? No. A few +desultory questions prove this. "Kaintuck's" lips are sealed +forever in death. The secret is safe.</p> +<p>Padre Francisco does not delay his request to be allowed to +depart. As he sips his ripe Mission claret, he tells Judge Hardin +of the desire of years to return to France. There are now no +duties here to hold him longer. He desires to give the Judge such +family papers as are yet in his charge. He would like practical +advice as to his departure. For he has grown into his quiet +retreat and fears the outer world.</p> +<p>With due gravity the lawyer agrees in the change. He requests +the padre to permit him to write his San Francisco agent of the +arrival of the retiring missionary.</p> +<p>"If you will allow me," he says, "my agent shall furnish your +passage to Paris and arrange for all your wants."</p> +<p>Padre Francisco bows. It is, after all, only his due.</p> +<p>"When will you wish to leave?" queries Hardin.</p> +<p>"To-morrow, Judge. My little affairs are in readiness."</p> +<p>During the evening the light of the good priest glimmers late +in the lonely little sacristy. The chapel bell tolls the last +vespers, for long years, at Lagunitas.</p> +<p>All the precious family papers are accepted by the Judge when +the padre makes ready for his departure. The priest, with +faltering voice, says early mass, with a few attendants. +Delivering up the keys of the sacristy, chapel, and his home to +the Judge, he quietly shares the noonday meal.</p> +<p>If there is sadness in his heart his placid face shows it not. +He sits in the lonely room replete with memories of the past.</p> +<p>He is gone for a half hour, after the wily Judge lights his +cigar, to contemplate the rich domain which shall be his, from +the porch of the old home. When the priest returns, it is from +the graves of the loved dead. He has plucked the few flowers +blooming there. They are in his hand.</p> +<p>His eyes are moist with the silent tears of one who mourns the +useless work of long years. They have been full of sadness, +separation, spiritual defeat, and untimely death. Even Judge +Hardin, merciless as he is, feels compassion for this lonely man. +He has asked nothing of him. The situation is delicate.</p> +<p>"Can I do anything for you, Father Francisco?" says Hardin, +with some real feeling. He is a gentleman "in modo." The priest +may be penniless. He must not go empty-handed.</p> +<p>"Nothing, thank you, save to accept my adieux and my fondest +blessing for the little Isabel."</p> +<p>He hands Judge Hardin the address of the religious house to +which he will retire in Paris.</p> +<p>"I will deliver to your agent the other papers and +certificates of the family. They are stored for safety at the +Mission Dolores church."</p> +<p>"My agent will have orders to do everything you wish," remarks +the Judge, as the carriage drives up for the priest.</p> +<p>Hardin arises, with a sudden impulse. The modest pride of this +grave old French gentleman will not be rudely intruded on. He +must not, he shall not, go away entirely empty-handed. The lawyer +returns with an envelope, and hands it to the padre.</p> +<p>"From the colonel," he says. "It is an order for ten thousand +dollars upon his San Francisco bankers."</p> +<p>"I will be taken care of by those who sent me here," simply +remarks the padre.</p> +<p>Hardin flushes.</p> +<p>"You can use it, father, in France, for the poor, for the +friendless; you will find some worthy objects."</p> +<p>The priest bows gravely, and presses the hand of the lawyer. +With one loving look around the old plaza, the sweeping forest +arches, and the rolling billows of green, he leaves the lonely +lake gleaming amid its wooded shores. Its beauty is untouched by +the twenty long years since first he wandered by its shores. A +Paradise in a forest. His few communicants have said adieu. There +is nothing to follow him but the incense-breathing murmurs of the +forest branches, from fragrant pine and stately redwood, sighing, +"Go, in God's name."</p> +<p>Their wind-wafted voices speak to him of the happy past. The +quiet, saddened, patient padre trusts himself as freely to his +unknown future, as a child in its mother's cradling arms. In his +simple creed, "God is everywhere."</p> +<p>So Fran‡ois Ribaut goes in peace to spend a few quiet +days at the Mission Dolores church. He will then follow the wild +ocean waves back to his beloved France. "Apres vingt ans." A +month sees him nearing the beloved shores.</p> +<p>Walking the deck, he thinks often of that orphan child in +Europe. He remembers, strangely, that the Judge had neglected to +give him any clew to her present dwelling. Ah! he can write. Yes, +but will he be answered? Perhaps. But Judge Hardin is a cunning +old lawyer.</p> +<p>Disembarrassed of the grave priest, Hardin at once sends +orders for his prospectors. A new man appears to superintend the +grant.</p> +<p>It is with grim satisfaction he reflects that the hand of fate +has removed every obstacle to his control. His fiery energy is +shown by the rapidity with which hundreds of men swarm on ditch +and flume. They are working at mill and giant water-wheels. They +are delving and tracing the fat brown quartz, gold laden, from +between the streaks of rifted basalt and porphyry.</p> +<p>There is no one to spy, none to hinder now. Before the +straggling veterans of Lee and Johnston wander back to the golden +West, the quartz mine of Lagunitas yields fabulous returns.</p> +<p>The legacy of "Kaintuck" was wonderful. The golden bars, run +out roughly at the mine, represented to Hardin the anchor of his +tottering credit. They are the basis of a great fortune, and the +means of political prestige.</p> +<p>When the crash came, when the Southern flags were furled in +the awful silence of defeat and despair, the wily lawyer, safe in +Lagunitas, was crowning his golden fortunes.</p> +<p>Penniless, broken in pride and war-worn, the survivors of the +men whom he urged into the toils of secession, returned sadly +home, scattering aimlessly over the West. Fools of fortune.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin, satisfied with the absence of the infant +heiress, coldly stood aloof from the ruin of his friends.</p> +<p>As the months ran on, accumulating his private deposits, Judge +Hardin, engrossed in his affairs, grew indifferent even to the +fate of the woman he had so long cherished. His unacknowledged +child is naught to him.</p> +<p>It was easy to keep the general income and expenses of the +ranch nearly even in amount.</p> +<p>But the MINE was a daily temptation to the only man who knew +its real ownership. It must be his at any cost. Time must show +the way. He must have a title.</p> +<p>Hardin looked far into the future. His very isolation and +inaction was a proof of no overt treason. With the power of this +wealth he might, when a few years rolled away, reach lofty civic +honors. Young at sixty, as public men are considered, he wonders, +looking over the superb estate, if a high political marriage +would not reopen his career. In entertaining royally at San +Francisco and Sacramento, with solid and substantial claims in +society, he may yet be able to place his name first in the annals +of the coast. A senator. Why not? Ambition and avarice.</p> +<p>With prophetic insight, he knows that sectional rancor will +not long exist in California. Not really, in the war, a divided +community, a debatable land, there will be thousands of able, +hardy men, used to excitement, spreading over the West. It is a +land of easy and liberal opinion. Business and the mine's affairs +cause him to visit San Francisco frequently. He reaches out for +all men as his friends. Seated in his silent parlors, walking +moodily through the beautiful rooms, haunted with memories of the +splendid "anonyma" whose reign is yet visible, he dreams of his +wasted past, his lonely future. Can he repair it? Enveloped in +smoke wreaths, from his portico he surveys the thousand twinkling +city lights below. He is careless of the future movements of his +Parisian goddess.</p> +<p>It cost Philip Hardin no heart-wrench to part with voluptuous +Hortense Duval. Partners in a crime, the stain of "French +Charlie's" blood crimsoned their guilty past. An analytical, +cold, all-mastering mind, he had never listened to the heart. He +supposed Hortense to be as chilly in nature as himself. Yet she +writes but seldom. Taught by his profession to dread silence from +a woman, he casually corresponds with several trusted friends of +the Confederate colony in France. What is her mystery? Madame +Natalie de Santos is now a personage. The replies tell him of her +real progress in the glittering ranks of the capital, and her +singularly steady life. As the months roll on, he becomes a +little anxious. She is far too cool and self-contained to suit +him. He wishes women to lean on him and to work his will. Does +she intend to establish a thorough position abroad, and claim +some future rights? Has she views of a settlement? Who knows?</p> +<p>Hardin sees too late, that in the control of both children, +and her knowledge of his past, she is now independent of his mere +daily influence. The millions of Lagunitas mine cannot be hidden. +If he recalls the heiress, will "Natalie de Santos" be as easily +controlled as "Hortense Duval"?</p> +<p>And his own child, what of her? Hardin dares not tie himself +up by acknowledging her claims. If he gives a large sum to the +girl, it will give his "sultana" a powerful weapon for the +future.</p> +<p>Is she watching him through spies? She betrays no anxiety to +know anything, save what he imparts. He dare not go to Paris, for +fear of some public scandal and a rupture. He must confirm his +position there. What new friends has she there?</p> +<p>Ah! He will wait and make a final settlement of a handsome +fortune on the child. He will provide a future fixed income for +this new social star, now, at any rate, dependent on her +obedience. Reports, in due form, accompany the occasional +communications forwarded from the "Sacred Heart" as to the +heiress. This must all be left to time.</p> +<p>With a deep interest, Hardin sees the cessation of all +hostilities, the death of Lincoln, the disbandment, in peace, of +the great Union armies.</p> +<p>Bayonets glitter no more upon the crested Southern heights. +The embers of the watchfires are cold, gray ashes now. The lonely +bivouac of the dead is the last holding of the foughten +fields.</p> +<p>While the South and East is a graveyard or in mourning, +strange to say, only a general relief is felt in the West. The +great issue easily drops out of sight. There are here no local +questions, no neighborhood hatreds, no appealing graves. Happy +California! happy, but inglorious. The railway approaches +completion. A great activity of scientific mining, enterprises of +scope and local development, urge the Western communities to +action. The bonanza of Lagunitas gives Judge Hardin even greater +local prominence. He establishes his residence at the old home in +the Sierras.</p> +<p>With no trusted associates, he splits and divides the funds +from the mine, placing them in varied depositories. He refrains +from an undue appearance of wealth or improvement at the rancho +itself. No one knows the aggregates, the net returns, save +himself. Cunning old robber.</p> +<p>To identify himself with the interior and southern part of the +State, he enters the higher body of the Legislature. His great +experience and unflagging hospitalities make him at once a +leader.</p> +<p>Identified with State and mining interests, he engages public +attention. He ignores all contention, and drops the question of +the Rebellion. A hearty welcome from one and all, proves that his +commanding talents are recognized.</p> +<p>There are no relatives, no claims, no meddlesome legatees to +question the disposition of Colonel Valois' estate. His +trusteeship is well known, and his own influence is pre-eminent +in the obscure District Court having control of the legal +formalities.</p> +<p>Hardin is keenly watchful of all returning ex-Confederates who +might have been witnesses of Maxime Valois' death. They do not +appear. His possession is unchallenged. His downy couch grows +softer daily.</p> +<p>He has received the family papers left by the departing padre. +They are the baptismal papers of the little heiress. The last +vouchers.</p> +<p>Hardin, unmoved by fear, untouched by sympathy, never thinks +of the lowly grave before the ramparts of Atlanta. The man lies +there, who appealed to his honor, to protect the orphaned child, +but he is silent in death.</p> +<p>He decides to quietly strip the rancho of its great metallic +wealth. He will hold the land unimproved, to be a showing in +future years should trouble come as to the settlement of the +estate.</p> +<p>With the foresight of the advocate, Hardin fears the Valois +heirs of New Orleans. He must build up his defensive works in +that quarter. From several returned "Colonels" and "Majors" he +hears of the death of old Judge Valois.</p> +<p>The line of the family is extinct, save the boy in Paris, who +has been lost sight of. A wandering artist.</p> +<p>A sudden impulse seizes him. He likes not the ominous silence +of Natalie as to important matters.</p> +<p>Selecting one of his law clerks (now an employee of the +estate), he sends him to Paris, amply supplied with funds, to +look up the only scion left of the old family. He charges his +agent to spare neither money nor time in the quest. A full and +detailed report of Madame de Santos' doings and social +surroundings is also ordered.</p> +<p>"Mingle in the circles of travelling Americans, spend a little +money, and find out what you can of her private life," are his +orders. He says nothing of the heiress.</p> +<p>In the gay season of 1866, Hardin, still bent on the golden +quest in the hills, reads with some astonishment, the careful +"precis" of his social spy. He writes:</p> +<p>"I have searched Paris all over. The old Confederate circles +are scattered now. They are out of favor at the imperial court. +Even Duke Gwin, the leader of our people, has departed. His +Dukedom of Sonora has gone up with our Confederacy. From one or +two attaches of the old Confederate agency, I learned that the +boy Armand Valois is now sixteen or seventeen years old, if +living. He was educated in one of the best schools here, and is +an artist by choice. When his father died he was left without +means. I understand he intended to make a living by selling +sketches or copying pictures. I have no description of him. There +are thousands of young students lost in this maze. I might walk +over him in the Louvre and not know him. If you wish me to +advertise in the journals I might do so."</p> +<p>"Fool," interjects Hardin, as he reads this under the vines at +Lagunitas. "I don't care to look up an heir to Lagunitas. One is +enough."</p> +<p>"Now for Madame de Santos: I have by some effort worked into +the circle of gayety, where I have met her. She is royally +beautiful. I should say about thirty-five. Her position is fixed +as an 'elegante." Her turnout in the Bois is in perfect taste. +She goes everywhere, entertains freely, and, if rumor is true, is +very rich. She receives great attention, as they say she is +guardian of a fabulously wealthy young girl at one of the +convents here.</p> +<p>"Madame de Santos is very accomplished, and speaks Spanish, +French, and English equally well. I have made some progress in +her acquaintance, but since, by accident, she learned I was from +California she has been quite distant with me. No one knows her +past, here. It is supposed she has lived in Mexico, and perhaps +California. The little feminine 'Monte Cristo' is said to be +Spanish or Mexican. Madame Santos' reputation is absolutely +unblemished. In all the circle of admirers she meets, she favors +but one. Count Ernesto de Villa Rocca, an Italian nobleman, is +quite the 'ami de maison.'</p> +<p>"I have not seen the child, save at a distance. Madame permits +no one to meet her. She only occasionally drives her out, and +invariably alone with herself.</p> +<p>"She visits the convent school regularly. She seems to be a +vigilant wide-awake woman of property. She goes everywhere, +opera, balls, theatres, to the Tuileries. She is popular with +women of the best set, especially the French. She sees very few +Americans. She is supposed to be Southern in her sympathies. Her +life seems to be as clear as a diamond. She has apparently no +feminine weaknesses. If there is a sign of the future, it is that +she may become 'Countess de Villa Rocca.' He is a very fine +fellow, has all the Italian graces, and has been in the 'Guardia +Nobile.' He is desperately devoted to Madame, and to do him +justice, is an excellent fellow, as Italian counts go.</p> +<p>"By the way, I met old Colonel Joe Woods here. He entertained +me in his old way. He showed me the sights. He has become very +rich, and operates in New York, London, and Paris. He is quite a +swell here. He is liberal and jolly. Rather a change from the +American River bar, to the Jockey Club at Paris. He sends you +remembrances.</p> +<p>"I shall wait your further orders, and return on telegraph. I +cannot fathom the household mysteries of the Madame. When all +Paris says a woman is 'dead square,' we need not probe deeper. +There is no present sign of her marrying Villa Rocca, but he is +the first favorite."</p> +<p>"So," muses the veteran intriguer Hardin, as he selects a +regalia, "my lady is wary, cautious, and blameless. Danger +signals these. I must watch this Villa Rocca. Is he a 'cavalier +servente'? Can he mean mischief? She would not marry him, I +know," he murmurs.</p> +<p>The red danger signal's flash shows to Hardin, Marie Berard +standing by the side of Natalie and the two girls. Villa Rocca is +only a dark shade of the background as yet.</p> +<p>He smiles grimly.</p> +<p>The clicking telegraph key invokes the mysterious cable. For +two days Judge Philip paces his room a restless wolf.</p> +<p>His prophetic mind projects the snares which will bring them +all to his feet. He will buy this soubrette's secrets.</p> +<p>A French maid's greed and Punic faith can be counted on +always.</p> +<p>With trembling fingers he tears open the cipher reply from his +spy. He reads with flaming eyes:</p> +<p>"Have seen girl; very knowing. Says she can tell you something +worth one hundred thousand francs. Will not talk now. Money +useless at present. She wants your definite instructions, and +says, wait. Cable me orders."</p> +<p>Hardin peers through the grindstone, and evolves his orders. +He acts with Napoleon's rapidity. His answer reads:</p> +<p>"Let her alone. Tell her to notify Laroyne & Co., 16 Rue +Vivienne, when ready to sell her goods. Wait orders."</p> +<p>Hardin revolves in his busy brain every turn of fortune's +wheel.</p> +<p>Has Natalie an intrigue?</p> +<p>Is she already secretly married? Is the heiress of Lagunitas +dead?</p> +<p>The labors of his waking hours and the brandy bottle only tell +him of an unfaithful woman's vagaries; a greedy lover's plots, or +the curiosity of the dark-eyed maid, whose avarice is above her +fidelity.</p> +<p>Bah! she will tattle. No woman can resist it; they all +talk.</p> +<p>But this Italian cur; he must be watched.</p> +<p>The child! Pshaw; she is a girl in frocks. But Villa Rocca is +a needy man of brains and nerve; he must be foiled.</p> +<p>Now, what is her game? Hardin must acknowledge that she is +true to her trust, so far.</p> +<p>The Judge walks over to his telegraph office, for there is a +post, telegraph, and quite a mining settlement now on the +Lagunitas grant.</p> +<p>He sends a cable despatch to Paris to his agent, briefly:</p> +<p>"Stop work. Report acceptable. Come back. Take your time +leisurely, East. Well pleased."</p> +<p>He does not want any misplaced zeal of his spy to alarm +Natalie. As the year 1866 rolls on, the regular reports, business +drafts and details as to Isabel Valois are the burden of the +correspondence. Natalie's heart is silent. Has she one? She has +not urged him to come back; she has not pressed the claims of her +child. His agent returns and amplifies the general reports, but +he has no new facts.</p> +<p>The clerk drops into his usual life. He is not curious as to +the Madame. "Some collateral business of the Judge, probably," is +his verdict.</p> +<p>While the stamps rattle away in the Lagunitas quartz mills, +Judge Hardin takes an occasional run to the city by the bay. The +legislative season approaches. Senator Hardin's rooms at the +Golden Eagle are the centre of political power. Railroads are +worming their way into politics. Franchises and charters are +everywhere sought. Over the feasts served by Hardin's colored +retainers, he cements friendships across old party lines.</p> +<p>As Christmas approaches in this year, the Judge receives a +letter from Natalie de Santos which rouses him from his bed of +roses. He steadies his nerves with a glass of the best cognac, as +he reads this fond epistle:</p> +<p>I have waited for you to refer to the future of our child. I +will not waste words. If you wished to make me happy, you would +have, before now, provided for her. I do not speak of myself. You +have been liberal enough to me. I am keeping up the position you +indicated. My child is now old enough to ask meaning questions, +to be informed of her place in the world and to be educated for +it. You spoke of a settlement for her. If anything should happen +to me, what would be her future? Isabel will be of course, in the +future, a great lady. There is nothing absolutely my own. I am +dependent on you. What I asked you, Philip, you have not given +me: the name of wife. It is for her, not for myself, I asked it. +I have made myself worthy of the position I would hold. You know +our past. I wish absolutely now, to know my child's destiny. If +you will not do the mother justice, what will you do for the +child? Whose name shall she bear? What shall she have?</p> +<p>Philip, I beg you to act in these matters and to remember +that, if I once was Hortense Duval, I now am NATALIE DE +SANTOS.</p> +<p>Danger signals. Red and flaring they burn before Hardin's +steady eyes. What does she mean? Is her last clause a threat? +Woman! Perfidious woman!</p> +<p>Hardin tosses on a weary couch several nights before he can +frame a reply. It is not a money question. In his proud position +now, forming alliances daily with the new leaders of the State, +he could not stoop to marry this woman. Never. To give the child +a block sum of money would be only to give the mother more power. +To settle an income on her might be a future stain on his name. +Shall he buy off Natalie de Santos? Does she want money alone? If +he did so, would not Villa Rocca marry her and he then have two +blackmailers on his hands? To whom can he trust Isabel Valois if +he breaks with Natalie? The girl is growing, and may ask leading +questions. She must be kept away. In a few years she not only +will be marriageable, but at eighteen her legal property must be +turned over.</p> +<p>And to give up the Lagunitas quartz lead? Hardin's brow is +gloomy. He uses days for a decision. The letter makes him very +shaky in his mind. Is the "ex-Queen of the El Dorado" ready to +strike a telling blow?</p> +<p>He remembers how tiger-like her rage when she drew her dagger +over the hand of "French Charlie." She can strike at need, but +what will be her weapon now?</p> +<p>He sets the devilish enginery of his brain at work. His answer +to Natalie de Santos is brief but final:</p> +<p>"You may trust my honor. I shall provide a fund as soon as I +can, to be invested as you direct, either in your name or the +other. You can impart to the young person what you wish. In the +meantime you should educate her as a lady. If you desire an +additional allowance, write me. I have many burdens, and cannot +act freely now. Trust me yet awhile."</p> +<p>Philip Hardin feels no twinge as he seals this letter. No +voice from the grave can reach him. No proof exists in Natalie de +Santos' hands to verify her story.</p> +<p>As for Lagunitas, and orphan Isabel, he pores over every paper +left by the unsuspicious Padre Francisco. He smiles grimly. It +was a missionary parish. Its records have been all turned over to +him. He quietly destroys the whole mass of papers left at +Lagunitas by the priest. As for the marriage papers of her +parents and certificate of baptism of Isabel, he conceals them, +ready for destruction at a moment's notice.</p> +<p>He will wait till the seven years elapse before filing legal +proof of Maxime Valois' death.</p> +<p>Securing from the papers of the old mansion house, materials, +old in appearance, he quietly writes up a bill of sale of the +quartz lead known as the Lagunitas mine, to secure the forty +thousand dollars advanced by him to Maxime Valois, dated back to +1861. Days of practice enable him to imitate the signature of +Valois. He appends the manual witness of "Kaintuck" and "Padre +Francisco." They are gone forever; one in the grave, one in a +cloister.</p> +<p>This paper he sends quietly to record. It attracts no +attention. "Kaintuck" is dead. Valois sleeps his last sleep. From +a lonely cell in a distant French monastery, Padre Francisco will +never hear of this.</p> +<p>As for Isabel Valois, he has a darker plot than mere theft and +forgery, for the future.</p> +<p>The years to come will strengthen his possession and drown out +all possible gossip.</p> +<p>Natalie de Santos must hang dependent on his bounty. He will +not arm her with weapons against himself. He knows she will not +return to face him in California. His power there is too great. +If she dares to marry any one, her hold on him is lost. She must +lie to hide her past. Hardin smiles, for he counts upon a woman's +vanity and love of luxury. The veteran lawyer sums up the +situation to himself. She is powerless. She dares not talk. Time +softens down all passions. When safe, he will give the child some +funds, but very discreetly.</p> +<p>And to bury the memory of Maxime Valois forever is his +task.</p> +<p>Broadening his political influence, Hardin moves on to public +prominence. He knows well he can bribe or buy judge and jury, +suppress facts, and use the golden hammer in his hands, to beat +down any attack. Gold, blessed gold!</p> +<p>The clattering stamps ring out merry music at Lagunitas as the +months sweep by.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XV. — AN OLD PRIEST AND A YOUNG +ARTIST.—THE CHANGELINGS.</h2> +<p>As a thoroughfare of all nations, nothing excels the matchless +Louvre. Though the fatal year of 1870 summons the legions of +France under the last of the Napoleons to defeat, Paris, queen of +cities, has yet to see its days of fire and flame. The Prussians +thunder at its gates. It is "l'annee terrible." Dissension and +rapine within. The mad wolves of the Commune are yet to rage over +the bloody paths of the German conqueror.</p> +<p>Yet a ceaseless crowd of strangers, a polyglot procession of +all ages and sexes, pours through these wonderful halls of +art.</p> +<p>In the sunny afternoons of the battle year, an old French +priest wanders through these noble galleries. Pale and bowed, +Francois Ribaut dreams away his waning hours among the priceless +relics of the past. These are the hours of release from rosary +and breviary. The ebb and flow of humanity, the labors of the +copyists, the diverse types of passing human nature, all interest +the padre.</p> +<p>He has waited in vain for responses to his frequent letters to +Judge Hardin. Perhaps the Judge is dead. Death's sickle swings +unceasingly. The little heiress may have returned to her western +native land. He waits and marvels. He finally sends a last letter +through the clergy at Mission Dolores. To this he receives a +response that they are told the young lady has returned to +America and is being educated in the Eastern States.</p> +<p>With a sigh Fran‡ois Ribaut abandons all hopes of +seeing once more the child he had baptized, the orphaned daughter +of his friend. She is now far from him. He feels assured he will +never cross the wild Atlantic again.</p> +<p>Worn and weary, waiting the approach of old age, he yet +participates, with a true Frenchman's patriotism, in the sorrows +of "l'annee terrible." Nothing brightens the future! Human nature +itself seems giving way.</p> +<p>All is disaster. Jacques Bonhomme's blood waters in vain his +native fields. Oh, for the great Napoleon! Alas, for the days of +1805!</p> +<p>As he wanders among the pictures he makes friendly +acquaintance with rising artist and humble imitator. The old +padre is everywhere welcome. His very smile is a benediction.</p> +<p>He pauses one day at the easel of a young man who is copying a +Murillo Madonna. Intent upon his work, the artist politely +answers, and resumes his task. Spirited and artistic in +execution, the copy betokens a rare talent.</p> +<p>Day after day, on his visits, the padre sees the glowing +canvas nearing completion. He is strangely attracted to the +resolute young artist.</p> +<p>Dark-eyed and graceful, the young painter is on the threshold +of manhood. With seemingly few friends or acquaintances, he works +unremittingly. Padre Francisco learns that he is a +self-supporting art-student. He avows frankly that art copying +brings him both his living and further education.</p> +<p>Fran‡ois Ribaut is anxious to know why this ardent +youth toils, when his fellows are in the field fighting the +invaders. He is astonished when the young man tells him he is an +American.</p> +<p>"You are a Frenchman in your language and bearing," says the +priest doubtfully.</p> +<p>The young artist laughs.</p> +<p>"I was educated here, mon pere, but I was born in Louisiana. +My name is Armand Valois."</p> +<p>The old priest's eyes glisten.</p> +<p>"I knew an American named Valois, in California. He was a +Louisianan also."</p> +<p>The youth drops his brush. His eyes search the padre's face. +"His name?" he eagerly asks.</p> +<p>"He was called Maxime Valois," says the priest, Sadly. "He +went into the Southern war and was killed."</p> +<p>The artist springs from his seat. Leading the priest to a +recessed window-seat, he says, quietly:</p> +<p>"Mon pere, tell me of him. He was my cousin, and the last of +my family. I am now the only Valois."</p> +<p>Padre Francisco overstays his hour of relaxation. For the +artist learns of the heroic death of his gallant kinsman, and all +the chronicles of Lagunitas.</p> +<p>"But you must come to me. I must see you often and tell you +more," concludes the good old priest. He gives Armand his +residence, a religious establishment near Notre Dame, where he +can spend his days under the shadows of the great mystery-haunted +fane.</p> +<p>Armand tells the priest his slender history.</p> +<p>Left penniless by his aged father's death, the whirlwind of +the Southern war swept away the last of his property. Old family +friends, scattered and poor, cannot help him. He has been his own +master for years. His simple annals are soon finished. He tells +of his heart comrade, Raoul Dauvray (his senior a few years), now +fighting in the Army of the Loire. The priest learns that the +young American remained, to be a son in the household, while +Raoul, a fellow art-student of past years, has drawn his sword +for France.</p> +<p>Agitated by the discovery, Padre Francisco promises to visit +the young man soon. It seems all so strange. A new romance! Truly +the world is small after all. Is it destiny or chance?</p> +<p>In a few weeks, Fran‡ois Ribaut is the beloved of that +little circle, where Josephine Dauvray is the household ruler. +Priest and youth are friends by the memory of the dead soldier of +the Confederacy. Armand writes to New Orleans and obtains full +details of the death, in the hour of victory, of the gallant +Californian. His correspondent says, briefly, "Colonel Henry +Peyton, who succeeded your relative in command of the regiment, +left here after the war, for Mexico or South America. He has +never been heard from. He is the one man who could give you the +fullest details of the last days of your kinsman—if he +still lives."</p> +<p>Thundering war rolls nearer the gates of Paris. The horrible +days of approaching siege and present danger, added to the gloom +of the national humiliation, make the little household a sad one. +Padre Francisco finds a handsome invalid officer one day at the +artist's home. Raoul Dauvray, severely wounded, is destined to +months of inaction. There is a brother's bond between the two +younger men. Padre Francisco lends his presence to cheer the +invalid. Father and mother are busied with growing cares, for the +siege closes in.</p> +<p>The public galleries are now all closed. The days of +"decheance" are over. France is struggling out of the hands of +tyranny under the invaders' scourge into the nameless horrors of +the Commune.</p> +<p>It is impossible to get away, and unsafe to stay. The streets +are filled with the mad unrest of the seething population. By the +side of the young officer of the Garde Mobile, Fran‡ois +Ribaut ministers and speeds the recovery of the chafing warrior. +Thunder of guns and rattle of musketry nearer, daily, bring fresh +alarms. Armand Valois has thrown away the palette and is at last +on the ramparts with his brother artists, fighting for France. +The boy has no country, for his blood is as true to the Lost +Cause as the gallant cousin who laid down his life at Atlanta. He +can fight for France, for he feels he has no other country now. +It has been his foster-mother.</p> +<p>Bright and helpful, demure and neat-handed, is the little +nurse, who is the life of the household. Padre Francisco already +loves the child. "Louise Moreau" is a pretty, quiet little maiden +of twelve. Good Josephine Dauvray has told the priest of the +coming of the child. He listens to the whole story. He sighs to +think of some dark intrigue, behind the mask of this poor child's +humble history. He gravely warns Josephine to tell him all the +details of this strange affair. The motherly care and protection +of Josephine has rendered the shy child happy. She knows no home +but her little nest with the Dauvrays. Her education is suited to +her modest station in life. The substantial payments and furtive +visits of the woman who is responsible for her, tell the priest +there is here a mystery to probe.</p> +<p>Josephine casts down her eyes when PŠre Fran‡ois +asks her sternly if she has not traced the woman who is the only +link between her charge and the past. Interest against duty.</p> +<p>"I have followed her, mon pere, but I do not know her home. +She comes irregularly, sometimes on foot, sometimes in a +carriage. I have always lost all traces. She must have friends +here, but I cannot find them, for she was sent to us by others to +give this child a home."</p> +<p>"This must be looked into," murmurs the priest.</p> +<p>He interrogates the soldier and also Armand when he returns +from the lines, as the siege drags slowly on. They know nothing +save the fact of the child's being friendless. It may be right; +it may be wrong. "Voila tout." It's the way of Paris.</p> +<p>The priest is much disturbed in mind. Since his conversations +with Armand Valois he feels a vague unrest in his heart as to the +young artist's rights in Lagunitas. Does none of that great +estate go to Armand? Is this equitable? There must be some share +of the domain, which would legally descend to him. In the days of +the convalescence of Raoul Dauvray, the two friends of the +soldier-artist, now waiting the orders for the great attack, +commune as to his rights. It would not be well to disturb him +with false hopes.</p> +<p>The gentle old priest tells Raoul the whole story of +Lagunitas.</p> +<p>"Mon pere," says the sculptor, "I think there is something +wrong with the affairs of that estate. This great Judge may wish +you out of the way. He may wish to keep Armand out of his rights. +He is deceiving you. It would be well, when brighter days come, +that Armand should go to the western land and see this man."</p> +<p>"But he is poor," Raoul sighs, "and he cannot go."</p> +<p>"If he writes to the 'avocat,' the man will be on his +guard."</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois takes many a pinch of snuff. He +ponders from day to day. When the fatal days of the surrender of +Paris come, Armand returns saddened and war-worn, but safe. The +victorious columns of the great German "imperator" march under +the Arc de Triomphe. Their bayonets shine in the Bois de +Boulogne. Thundering cannon at Versailles bellow a salute to the +new-crowned Emperor of Germany.</p> +<p>The days of the long siege have been dreadful. Privation, the +streams of wounded, and the dull boom of the guns of the forts +are sad witnesses of the ruin of war.</p> +<p>When to the siege and the shame of surrender, the awful scenes +of the Commune are added, each day has a new trial. Raoul is well +enough to be out, now. The two young men guard the household. +Aristide Dauvray is gloomily helpless at his fireside. Armand +busies himself in painting and sketching. PŠre +Fran‡ois' visits are furtive, for the priest's frock is a +poor safeguard now. Already the blood of the two murdered French +generals, Lecomte and Clement-Thomas, cries to heaven for +vengeance against rash mutiny.</p> +<p>Raoul Dauvray foresees the downfall of the socialistic mob. +After consultation, he decides to take a place where he can +protect the little household when the walls are stormed. He +escapes by night to the lines of the Versaillese.</p> +<p>For, maddened Paris is now fighting all France. In his +capacity of officer, he can at once insure the personal safety of +his friends when the city is taken.</p> +<p>The red flag floats on the Hotel de Ville. The very streets +are unsafe. Starvation faces the circle around Aristide Dauvray's +hearth. Mad adventurers, foolish dreamers, vain "bourgeois" +generals, head the Communists. Dombrowski, Cluseret, Flourens, +the human tigers Ferre and Lullier, Duval, Bergeret, and Eudes, +stalk in the stolen robes of power. Gloomy nights close sad and +dreary days. From Issy and Vanvres huge shells curve their airy +flight, to carry havoc from French guns into French ranks.</p> +<p>Hell seems to have vomited forth its scum. Uncanny beings lurk +at the corners. Wild with cognac and absinthe, the unruly mob +commits every wanton act which unbridled wickedness can suggest. +Good men are powerless, and women exposed to every insult. Public +trade is suspended. Robbery and official pillage increase. The +creatures of a day give way quickly to each other. Gallant +Rossell, who passed the Prussian lines to serve France, +indignantly sheathes his sword. He is neither a Nero nor a +mountebank.</p> +<p>Alas, for the talented youth! a death volley from his old +engineer troops awaits him at the Buttes de Chaumont. To die the +dishonored death of a felon, a deserter!</p> +<p>Alas, for France: bright of face and hard of heart! Tigress +queen, devouring your noblest children.</p> +<p>While Thiers proclaims the law, he draws around him the wreck +of a great army. A bloody victory over demented brethren hangs +awful laurels on the French sword: De Gallifet, Vinoy, Ducrot, +L'Admirault, Cissey, D'Aurelle de Palladines, Besson and +Charrette surround the unlucky veteran, Marshal McMahon, Duc de +Magenta. General Le Flo, the Minister of War, hurls this great +army against the two hundred and fifty-two battalions of National +Guards within the walls of Paris. These fools have a thousand +cannon.</p> +<p>Down in the Bois de Boulogne, the fighting pickets pour +hissing lead into the bosoms of brothers. From the heights where +the brutal Prussian soldiery grinned over the blackened ruins of +the ill-starred Empress Eugenie's palace of St. Cloud, the cannon +of the Versaillese rain shot and shell on the walls of +defenceless Paris.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois is a blessing in these sad and +weary days. Clad "en bourgeois," he smuggles in food and +supplies. He cheers the half-distracted Josephine. Armand Valois +keeps the modest little maiden Louise, fluttering about the home +studio which he shares with Raoul. Their casts and models, poor +scanty treasures, make their modest sanctum a wonder to the girl. +Her life's romance unfolds. Art and dawning love move her placid +soul. The days of wrangling wear away. An occasional smuggled +note from Raoul bids them be of cheer. Once or twice, the face of +Marie Berard is seen at the door for a moment.</p> +<p>Thrusting a packet of notes in Josephine's hand, she bids her +guard the child and keep her within her safe shelter.</p> +<p>The disjointed masses of Communists wind out on April 3d of +the terrible year of '71, to storm the fortified heights held by +the Nationalists.</p> +<p>Only a day before, at Courbevoie, their bayonets have crossed +in fight. Mont Valerien now showers shells into Paris. Bergeret, +Duval, and Eudes lead huge masses of bloodthirsty children of the +red flag, into a battle where quickening war appalls the timid +Louise. It makes her cling close to Armand. The human family +seems changed into a pack of ravening wolves. Pouring back, +defeated and dismayed, the Communists rage in the streets. The +grim fortress of Mont Valerien has scourged the horde of +Bergeret. Duval's column flees; its defeated leader is promptly +shot by the merciless Vinoy. Fierce De Gallifet rages on the +field—his troopers sabring the socialists without +quarter.</p> +<p>Flourens' dishonored body lies, riddled with bullets, on a +dung heap at St. Cloud.</p> +<p>Eudes steals away, to sneak out and hide his "loot" in foreign +lands. Red is the bloody flail with which McMahon thrashes out +Communism.</p> +<p>The prisoned family, joined by PŠre Fran‡ois, +now a fugitive, day by day shudder at the bedlam antics and reign +of blood around them.</p> +<p>Saintly Archbishop Darboy dies under the bullets of the +Communists. His pale face appeals to God for mercy.</p> +<p>Vengeance is yet to come. The clergy are now hunted in the +streets! Plunder and rapine reign! Orgies and wild wassail hold a +mocking sway in the courts of death. Unsexed women, liberated +thieves, and bloodthirsty tramps prey on the unwary, the wounded, +or the feeble. On April 30th, the great fort of Issy falls into +the hands of the government. Blazing shells rain, in the murky +night air, down on Paris. Continuous fighting from April 2d until +May 21st makes the regions of Auteuil, Neuilly, and Point du Jour +a wasted ruin.</p> +<p>Frenzied fiends drag down the Colonne Vendome where the great +Corsican in bronze gazed on a scene of wanton madness never +equalled. Not even when drunken Nero mocked at the devastation of +the imperial city by the Tiber, were these horrors rivalled.</p> +<p>Down the beautiful green slopes into the Bois de Boulogne, the +snaky lines of sap and trench bring the octopus daily nearer to +the doomed modern Babylon. Flash of rifle gun and crack of +musketry re-echo in the great park. It is now shorn of its lovely +trees, where man and maid so lately held the trysts of love. A +bloody dew rains on devoted Paris.</p> +<p>A fateful Sunday is that twenty-first of May when the +red-mouthed cannon roar from dawn till dark. At eventide, the +grim regulars bayonet the last defenders of the redoubts at the +Point du Jour gates. The city is open to McMahon.</p> +<p>The lodgment once made, a two nights' bombardment adds to the +horrors of this living hell.</p> +<p>On the twenty-third, Montmartre's bloody shambles show how +merciless are the stormers. Dombrowski lies dead beside his +useless guns. All hope is lost. Murder and pillage reign in +Paris.</p> +<p>Behind their doors, barricaded with the heavier furniture, the +family of Aristide Dauvray invoke the mercy of God. They are led +by PŠre Fran‡ois, who thinks the awful Day of +Judgment may be near. Humanity has passed its limits. Fiends and +furies are the men and women, who, crazed with drink, swarm the +blood-stained streets.</p> +<p>In their lines, far outside, the stolid Prussians joke over +their beer, as they learn of the wholesale murder finishing red +Bellona's banquet. "The French are all crazy." They laugh.</p> +<p>The twenty-fourth of May arrives. Paris is aflame. Battle +unceasing, storm of shell, rattle of rifles, and cannon balls +skipping down the Champs Elysees mark this fatal day. A deep tide +of human blood flows from the Madeleine steps to the Seine. The +river is now filled with bodies. Columns of troops, with heavy +tramp and ringing platoon volleys, disperse the rallying squads +of rebels, or storm barricade after barricade. Squadrons of +cavalry whirl along, and cut down both innocent and guilty.</p> +<p>After three awful days more, the six thousand bodies lying +among the tombs of PŠre la Chaise tell that the last +stronghold of the Commune has been stormed. Belleville and Buttes +de Chaumont are piled with hundreds of corpses. The grim +sergeants' squads are hunting from house to house, bayoneting +skulking fugitives, or promptly shooting any persons found +armed.</p> +<p>The noise of battle slowly sinks away. Flames and smoke soar +to the skies: the burnt offering now; the blood offering is +nearly over.</p> +<p>Thirty superb palaces of the municipality are in flames. Under +Notre Dame's sacred roof, blackened brands and flooded petroleum +tell of the human fiends' visit.</p> +<p>The superb ruins of the Tuileries show what imperial France +has been. Its flaming debris runs with streams of gold, silver, +and melted crystal.</p> +<p>Banks, museums, and palaces have been despoiled. Boys and old +crones trade costly jewels in the streets for bread and rum. The +firing parties are sick of carnage.</p> +<p>Killing in cold blood ceases now, from sheer mechanical +fatigue.</p> +<p>On the twenty-eighth, a loud knocking on the door of the house +brings Aristide Dauvray to the door. A brief parley. The +obstructions are cleared. Raoul is clasped in his father's arms. +Safe at last. Grim, bloody, powder-stained, with tattered +clothes, he is yet unwounded. A steady sergeant and half-dozen +men are quickly posted as a guard. They can breathe once more. +This help is sadly needed. In a darkened room above, little +Louise Moreau lies in pain and silence.</p> +<p>Grave-faced PŠre Fran‡ois is the skilful nurse +and physician. A shell fragment, bursting through a window, has +torn her tender, childish body.</p> +<p>Raoul rapidly makes Armand and his father known to the nearest +"poste de garde." He obtains protection for them. His own troops +are ordered to escort drafts of the swarming prisoners to the +Orangery at Versailles. Already several thousands of men, women, +and children, of all grades, are penned within the storied walls. +Here the princesses of France sported, before that other great +blood frenzy, the Revolution, seized on the Parisians.</p> +<p>With a brief rest, he tears himself away from a mother's arms, +and departs for the closing duties of the second siege of Paris. +The drawing in of the human prey completes the work.</p> +<p>Safe at last! Thank God! The family are able to look out to +the light of the sun again. They see the glittering stars of +night shine calmly down on the slaughter house, the charnel of +"Paris incendie." The silence is brooding. It seems unfamiliar +after months of siege, and battle's awful music.</p> +<p>In a few days the benumbed survivors crawl around the streets. +Open gates enable provisions to reach the half-famished dwellers +within the walls. Over patched bridges, the railways pour the +longed-for supplies into Paris. Fair France is fruitful, even in +her year of God's awful vengeance upon the rotten empire of +"Napoleon the Little."</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois lingers by the bedside of the +suffering girl. She moans and tosses in the fever of her wound. +Her mind is wandering.</p> +<p>A slender, girlish arm wanders out of the coverlid often. She +lies, with flushed cheeks and eyes strangely bright.</p> +<p>Tenderly replacing the innocent's little hands under the +counterpane, Fran‡ois Ribaut starts with sudden +surprise.</p> +<p>He fastens his gaze eagerly on the poor girl's left arm.</p> +<p>Can there be two scars like this?</p> +<p>The sign of the cross.</p> +<p>He is amazed. The little Spanish girl, from whose baby arm he +extracted a giant poisonous thorn, bore a mark like this,—a +record of his own surgery.</p> +<p>At far Lagunitas, he had said, playfully to Dolores +Valois:</p> +<p>"Your little one will never forget the cross; she will bear it +forever."</p> +<p>For the incision left a deep mark on baby Isabel Valois' +arm.</p> +<p>The old priest is strangely stirred. He has a lightning flash +of suspicion. This girl has no history; no family; no name. Who +is she?</p> +<p>Yet she is watched, cared for, and, even in the hours of +danger, money is provided for her. Ah, he will protect this poor +lamb. But it is sheer madness to dream of her being his lost one. +True, her age is that of the missing darling. He kneels by the +bed of the wounded innocent, and softly quavers a little old +Spanish hymn. It is a memory of his Californian days.</p> +<p>Great God! her lips are moving; her right hand feebly marks +his words, and as he bends over the sufferer, he hears "Santa +Maria, Madre de Dios."</p> +<p>Fran‡ois Ribaut falls on his knees in prayer. This +nameless waif, in her delirium, is faltering words of the cradle +hymns, the baby lispings of the heiress of Lagunitas.</p> +<p>A light from heaven shines upon the old priest's brow.</p> +<p>Is it, indeed, the heiress!</p> +<p>He can hear his own heart beat.</p> +<p>The wearied, hunted priest feels the breezes from the singing +pines once more on his fevered brow. Again he sees the soft dark +eyes of Dolores as they close in death, beautiful as the last +glances of an expiring gazelle. Her dying gaze is fixed on the +crucifix in his hand.</p> +<p>"I will watch over this poor lonely child," murmurs the old +man, as he throws himself on his knees, imploring the protection +of the Virgin Mother mild.</p> +<p>Sitting by the little sufferer, softly speaking the language +of her babyhood, the padre hears word after word, uttered by the +girl in the "patois" of Alta California.</p> +<p>And now he vows himself to a patient vigil over this +defenceless one. Silence, discretion, prudence. He is yet a +priest.</p> +<p>He will track out this mysterious guardian.</p> +<p>In a week or so, a normal condition is re-established in +conquered Paris. Though the yellowstone houses are pitted with +the scourge of ball and mitraille, the streets are safe. +Humanity's wrecks are cleared away. Huge, smoking ruins tell of +the mad barbarity of the floods of released criminals. The gashed +and torn beauties of the Bois de Boulogne; battered +fortifications, ruined temples of Justice, Art, and Commerce, and +the blood-splashed corridors of the Madeleine are still eloquent +of anarchy.</p> +<p>The reign of blood is over at last, for, in heaps of shattered +humanity, the corses of the last Communists are lying in awful +silence in the desecrated marble wilderness of PŠre la +Chaise.</p> +<p>The heights of Montmartre area Golgotha. Trade slowly opens +its doors. The curious foreigner pokes, a human raven, over the +scenes of carnage. Disjointed household organizations rearrange +themselves. The railway trains once more run regularly. Laughter, +clinking of glasses, and smirking loiterers on the boulevards +testify that thoughtless, heartless Paris is itself once more. +"Vive la bagatelle."</p> +<p>Fran‡ois Ribaut at last regains his home of religious +seclusion. Louise is convalescent, and needs rest and quiet. +There is no want of money in the Dauvray household. The liberal +douceurs of Louise Moreau's mysterious guardian, furnish all +present needs.</p> +<p>"Thank God!" cries Pere Francois, when he remembers that he +has the fund intact, which he received from the haughty +Hardin.</p> +<p>He can follow the quest of justice. He has the means to trace +the clouded history of this child of mystery. A nameless girl who +speaks only French, yet in her wandering dreams recalls the +Spanish cradle-hymns of lost Isabel.</p> +<p>Already the energy of the vivacious French is applied to the +care of what is left, and the repair of the damages of the reign +of demons. The rebuilding of their loved "altars of Mammon" +begins. The foreign colony, disturbed like a flock of gulls on a +lonely rock, flutters back as soon as the battle blast is over. +Aristide Dauvray finds instant promotion in his calling. The +hiding Communists are hunted down and swell the vast crowd of +wretches in the Orangery.</p> +<p>Already, all tribunals are busy. Deportation or death awaits +the leaders of the revolt.</p> +<p>Raoul Dauvray, whose regiment is returned from its fortnight's +guard duty at Versailles, is permitted to revisit his family. +Peace now signed—the peace of disgrace—enables the +decimated Garde Mobile to be disbanded. In a few weeks, he will +be a sculptor again. A soldier no more. France needs him no +longer in the field.</p> +<p>By the family Lares and Penates the young soldier tells of the +awful sights of Versailles. The thousand captured cannon of the +Communists, splashed with human blood, the wanton ruin of the +lovely grounds of the Bois, dear to the Parisian heart, and all +the strange scenes of the gleaning of the fields of death show +how the touch of anarchy has seared the heart of France. Raoul's +adventures are a nightly recital.</p> +<p>"I had one strange adventure," says the handsome soldier, +knocking the ashes from his cigar. "I was on guard with my +company in command of the main gate of the Orangery, the night +after the crushing of these devils at Montmartre. The field +officer of the day was away. Among other prisoners brought over, +to be turned into that wild human menagerie, was a beautiful +woman, richly dressed. She was arrested in a carriage, escaping +from the lines with a young girl. Their driver was also arrested. +He was detained as a witness.</p> +<p>"She had not been searched, but was sent over for special +examination. She was in agony. I tried to pacify her. She +declared she was an American, and begged me to send at once for +the officers of the American Legation. It was very late. The best +I could do was to give her a room and put a trusty sergeant in +charge. I sent a messenger instantly to the American Legation +with a letter. She was in mortal terror of her life. She showed +me a portmanteau, with magnificent jewels and valuables. I calmed +her terrified child. The lady insisted I should take charge of +her jewels and papers. I said:</p> +<p>"'Madame, I do not know you.'</p> +<p>"She cried, 'A French officer is always a gentleman.'</p> +<p>"In the morning before I marched off guard, a carriage with a +foreign gentleman and one of the attach‚s of the United +States Embassy, came with a special order from General Le +Fl“ for her release. She had told me she was trying to get +out of Paris with her child, who had been in a convent. It was +situated in the midst of the fighting and had been cut off. +Passing many fearful risks, she was finally arrested as +'suspicious.'</p> +<p>"She persists in saying I saved her life. She would have been +robbed, truly, in that mad whirl of human devils penned up there +under the chassepots of the guards on the walls. Oh! it was +horrible."</p> +<p>The young soldier paused.</p> +<p>"She thanked me, and was gracious enough not to offer me a +reward. I am bidden to call on her in a few days, as soon as we +are tranquil, and receive her thanks.</p> +<p>"I have never seen such beauty in woman," continues the +officer.</p> +<p>"A Venus in form; a daughter of the South, in +complexion,—and her thrilling eyes!"</p> +<p>Gentle Louise murmurs, "And the young lady?"</p> +<p>"A Peri not out of the gates of Paradise," cries the +enthusiastic artist.</p> +<p>"What is she? who is she?" cried the circle. Even PŠre +Fran‡ois lifted his head in curiosity. Raoul threw two +cards on the table. A dainty coronet with the words,</p> +<p>{Madame Natalie de Santos, 97 Champs Elysees.}</p> +<p>appeared on one; the other read,</p> +<p>{Le Comte Ernesto Villa Rocca, Jockey Club.}</p> +<p>"And you are going to call?" said Armand.</p> +<p>"Certainly," replies Raoul. "I told the lady I was an artist. +She wishes to give me a commission for a bust of herself. I hope +she will; I want to be again at my work. I am tired of all this +brutality."</p> +<p>That looked-for day comes. France struggles to her feet, and +loads the Teuton with gold. He retires sullenly to where he shows +his grim cannons, domineering the lovely valleys of Alsace and +the fruitful fields of Lorraine.</p> +<p>Louise Moreau is well now. The visits of her responsible +guardian are resumed. Adroit as a priest can be, PŠre +Fran‡ois cannot run down this visitor. Too sly to call in +others, too proud to use a hireling, in patience the priest bides +his time.</p> +<p>Not a word yet to the fair girl, who goes singing now around +the house. A few questions prove to Fran‡ois Ribaut that +the girl has no settled memory of her past. He speaks, in her +presence, the language of the Spaniard. No sign of understanding. +He describes his old home in the hills of Mariposa. The placid +child never raises her head from her sewing.</p> +<p>Is he mistaken? No; on her pretty arm, the crucial star still +lingers.</p> +<p>"How did you get that mark, my child?" he asks placidly.</p> +<p>"I know not, mon pŠre; it has been there since I can +remember."</p> +<p>The girl drops her eyes. She knows there is a break in her +history. The earliest thing she can remember of her childhood is +sailing—sailing on sapphire seas, past sculptured hills. +Long days spent, gazing on the lonely sea-bird's flight.</p> +<p>The priest realizes there is a well-guarded secret. The +regular visitor does not speak TO the child, but OF her.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois has given Josephine his orders, +but there is no tripping in the cold business-like actions of the +woman who pays.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois is determined to take both the +young men into his confidence. He will prevent any removal of +this child, without the legal responsibility of some one. If they +should take the alarm? How could he stop them? The law! But how +and why?</p> +<p>Raoul Dauvray is in high spirits. After his regiment is +disbanded, he is not slow to call at the splendid residence on +the Champs Elys‚es. In truth, he goes frequently.</p> +<p>The splendors of that lovely home, "Madame de Santos'" +gracious reception, and a royal offer for his artistic skill, +cause him to feel that she is indeed a good fairy.</p> +<p>A modelling room in the splendid residence is assigned him. +Count Villa Rocca, who has all an Italian's love of the arts, +lingers near Natalie de Santos, with ill-concealed jealousy of +the young sculptor. To be handsome, smooth, talented, +jealous—all this is Villa Rocca's "m‚tier." He is a +true Italian.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI. — NEARING EACH OTHER.—THE VALOIS +HEIRS.</h2> +<p>Paris is a human hive. Thousands labor to restore its beauty. +The stream of life ebbs and flows once more on the boulevards. +The galleries reopen. Armand labors in the Louvre. He finished +the velvet-eyed Madonna, copied after Murillo's magic hand. He +chafes under Raoul's laurels. The boy would be a man. Every day +the sculptor tells of the home of the wealthy Spaniard. The girl +is at her convent again. Raoul meets Madame Natalie "en ami de +maison."</p> +<p>He tells of Count Villa Rocca's wooing. Marriage may crown the +devotion of the courtly lover.</p> +<p>The bust in marble is a success. Raoul is in the flush of +glory. His patroness directs him to idealize for her "Helen of +Troy."</p> +<p>Armand selects as his next copy, a grand inspiration of +womanly beauty. He, too, must pluck a laurel wreath.</p> +<p>Under the stress of emulation, his fingers tremble in nervous +ardor. He has chosen a subject which has myriad worshippers.</p> +<p>Day by day, admirers recognize the true spirit of the +masterpiece.</p> +<p>Throngs surround the painter, who strains his artistic +heart.</p> +<p>A voice startles him, as the last touches are being laid +on:</p> +<p>"Young man, will you sell this here picture?"</p> +<p>"That depends," rejoins Armand. His use of the vernacular +charms the stranger.</p> +<p>"Have you set a price?" cries the visitor, in rough Western +English.</p> +<p>"I have not as yet," the copyist answers.</p> +<p>He surveys the speaker, a man of fifty years, whose dress and +manner speak of prosperity in efflorescent form.</p> +<p>The diamond pin, huge watch-chain, rich jewelled buttons, and +gold-headed cane, prove him an American Croesus.</p> +<p>"Well, when it's done, you bring it to my hotel. Everyone +knows me. I will give you what you want for it. It's way up; +better than the original," says the Argonaut, with a leer at its +loveliness.</p> +<p>He drops his card on the moist canvas. The nettled artist +reads,</p> +<p>{{Colonel Joseph Woods, California. Grand Hotel.}}</p> +<p>on the imposing pasteboard.</p> +<p>The good-humored Woods nods.</p> +<p>"Yes sir, that's me. Every one in London, Paris, and New York, +knows Joe Woods.</p> +<p>"Good at the bank," he chuckles.</p> +<p>"What's your name?" he says abruptly.</p> +<p>Armand rises bowing, and handing his card to the stranger:</p> +<p>"Armand Valois."</p> +<p>Woods whistles a resounding call. The "flaneurs" start in +astonishment.</p> +<p>"Say; you speak English. By heavens! you look like him. Did +you ever know a Colonel Valois, of California?" He gazes at the +boy eagerly.</p> +<p>"I never met him, sir, but he was the last of my family. He +was killed in the Southern war."</p> +<p>"Look here, young man, you pack up them there paint-brushes, +and send that picture down to my rooms. You've got to dine with +me to-night, my boy. I'll give you a dinner to open your +eyes."</p> +<p>The painter really opens his eyes in amazement.</p> +<p>"You knew my relative in California?"</p> +<p>"We dug this gold together," the stranger almost shouts, as he +taps his huge watch-chain. "We were old pardners," he says, with +a moistened eye.</p> +<p>There was a huskiness in the man's voice; not born of the +mellow cognac he loved.</p> +<p>No; Joe Woods was far away then, in the days of his sturdy +youth. He was swinging the pick once more on the bars of the +American River, and listening to its music rippling along under +the giant pines of California.</p> +<p>The young painter's form brought back to "Honest Joe" the +unreturning brave, the chum of his happiest days.</p> +<p>Armand murmurs, "Are you sure you wish this picture?"</p> +<p>"Dead sure, young man. You let me run this thing. Now, I won't +take 'no.' You just get a carriage, and get this all down to my +hotel. You can finish it there. I've got to go down to my bank, +and you be there to meet me. You'll have a good dinner; you bet +you will. God! what a man Valois was. Dead and gone, poor +fellow!</p> +<p>"Now, I'm off! don't you linger now."</p> +<p>He strides to his carriage, followed by a crowd of "valets de +place." All know Joe Woods, the big-souled mining magnate. He +always leaves a golden trail.</p> +<p>Armand imagines the fairy of good luck has set him dreaming. +No; it is all true.</p> +<p>He packs up his kit, and sends for a coupe. Giving orders as +to the picture, he repairs to the home of the Dauvrays for his +toilet. He tells PŠre Fran‡ois of his good +fortune.</p> +<p>"Joe Woods, did you say," murmurs the priest. "He was a friend +of Valois. He is rich. Tell him I remember him. He knows who I +am. I would like to see him."</p> +<p>There is a strange light in Fran‡ois Ribaut's eye. Here +is a friend; perhaps, an ally. He must think, must think.</p> +<p>The old priest taps his snuff-box uneasily.</p> +<p>In a "cabinet particulier" of the Grand Hotel restaurant, +Woods pours out to the young man, stories of days of toil and +danger; lynching scenes, gambling rows, "shooting scrapes," and +all kaleidoscopic scenes of the "flush days of the Sacramento +Valley."</p> +<p>Armand learns his cousin's life in California. He imparts to +the Colonel, now joyous over his "becassine aux truffes" and +Chambertin, the meagre details he has of the death of the man who +fell in the intoxicating hour of victory on fierce Hood's +fiercest field.</p> +<p>Colonel Joe Woods drains his glass in silence.</p> +<p>"My boy," he suddenly says, "Valois left an enormous estate; +don't you come in anywhere?"</p> +<p>"I never knew of his will," replies Armand. "I want you, +Colonel, to meet my old friend PŠre Fran‡ois, who +was the priest at this Lagunitas. He tells me, a Judge Hardin has +charge of all the property."</p> +<p>Joe Woods drops the knife with which he is cutting the tip of +his imperial cigar.</p> +<p>"By Heavens! If that old wolf has got his claws on it, it's a +long fight. I'll see your Padre. I knew him. Now, my boy," says +Colonel Joe, "I've got no wife, and no children," he adds +proudly.</p> +<p>"I'll take you over to California with me, and we'll see old +Hardin. I'm no lawyer, but you ought to hear of the whole +details. We'll round him up. Let's go up to my room and look at +your picture."</p> +<p>Throwing the waiter a douceur worthy of his financial grade, +the new friends retire to the Colonel's rooms.</p> +<p>Here the spoils of the jeweler, the atelier, and studio, are +strangely mingled. Joe Woods buys anything he likes. A decanter +of Bourbon, a box of the very primest Havanas, and a +business-like revolver, lying on the table, indicate his free and +easy ways.</p> +<p>Letters in heaps prove that "mon brave Colonel Woods" is even +known to the pretty free-lances who fight under the rosy banner +of Venus Victrix.</p> +<p>In hearty terms, the Californian vents his enthusiasm.</p> +<p>"By the way, my boy, I forgot something." He dashes off a +check and hands it to the young painter.</p> +<p>"Tell me where to send for a man to frame this picture in good +shape," he simply says.</p> +<p>He looks uneasily at the young man, whose senses fail him when +he sees that the check is for five thousand francs.</p> +<p>"Is that all right?" he says cheerfully, nudging Armand in the +ribs. "Cash on delivery, you know. I want another by and by. I'll +pick out a picture I want copied. I'm going to build me a +bachelor ranch on Nob Hill: Ophir Villa." He grins over some pet +"deal" in his favorite Comstock. Dulcet memories.</p> +<p>For Colonel Joe Woods is a man of "the Golden Days of the +Pacific." He too has "arrived."</p> +<p>The boy murmurs his thanks. "Now look here, I've got to run +over to the Cafe Anglais, and see some men from the West. You +give me your house number. I'll come in and see the padre +to-morrow evening.</p> +<p>"Stay; you had better come and fetch me. Take dinner with me +to-morrow, and we'll drive down in a hack."</p> +<p>The Colonel slips his pistol in its pocket, winks, takes a +pull at the cocktail of the American, old Kentucky's silver +stream, and grasps his gold-headed club. He is ready now to meet +friend or foe.</p> +<p>Joy in his heart, good humor on his face, jingling a few +"twenties," which he carries from habit, he grasps a handful of +cigars, and pushes the happy boy out of the open door.</p> +<p>"Oh! never mind that; I've got a French fellow sleeping around +here somewhere," he cries, as Armand signals the sanctum is +unlocked. "He always turns up if any one but HIMSELF tries to +steal anything. He's got a patent on that," laughs the "Croesus +of the American River."</p> +<p>Armand paints no stroke the next day. He confers with +PŠre Fran‡ois. He is paralyzed when the cashier of +the "Credit Lyonnais" hands him five crisp one-thousand-franc +notes. Colonel Joe Woods' check is of international potency. It +is not, then, a mere dream.</p> +<p>When the jovial Colonel is introduced to the family circle he +is at home in ten minutes. His good nature carries off easily his +halting French. He falls into sudden friendship with the young +soldier-sculptor. He compliments Madame Josephine. He pleases the +modest Louise, and is at home at once with Padre Francisco.</p> +<p>After a friendly chat, he says resolutely:</p> +<p>"Now, padre, you and I want to have a talk over our young +friend here. Let us go up to his room a little."</p> +<p>Seated in the boy's studio, Woods shows the practical sense +which carried him to the front in the struggle for wealth.</p> +<p>"I tell you what I'll do," he says. "I'm going out to the +coast in a month or so. I'll look this up a little. If I want our +young friend here, I'll send you a cable, and you can start him +out to me. My banker will rig him out in good style. Just as well +he comes under another name. See? Padre, you take a ride with me +to-morrow. We will talk it all over."</p> +<p>The Californian's questions and sagacity charm the padre. He +is now smoking one of those blessed "Imperiales." An innocent +pleasure.</p> +<p>They rise to join the circle below. A thought animates the +priest.</p> +<p>Yes, he will confer with the clear-headed man and tell him of +the child below, whose pathway is unguarded by a parent's +love.</p> +<p>Around the frugal board Colonel Joe enters into the family +spirit. He insists on having Raoul come to him for a conference +about his portraiture in marble.</p> +<p>"I have just finished a bust of Madame de Santos, the +beautiful Mexican lady," remarks Raoul.</p> +<p>Colonel Joe bounds from his chair. "By hokey, young man, you +are a bonanza. Do you know her well?" he eagerly asks.</p> +<p>The sculptor tells how he saved her from the bedlam horrors of +the Orangery.</p> +<p>The miner whistles. "Well, you control the stock, I should +say. Now, she's the very woman, Gwin, and Erlanger, and old +Slidell, and a whole lot told me about. I want you to take me up +there," he says.</p> +<p>"I will see Madame de Santos to-morrow," remarks Raoul, +diplomatically.</p> +<p>"Tell her I'm a friend of her Southern friends. They're +scattered now. Most of them busted," says Wood calmly. "I must +see her. See here, padre; we'll do the thing in style. You go and +call with me, and keep me straight." The priest assents.</p> +<p>In gayest mood the Colonel bids Raoul come to him for this +most fashionable call. Claiming the padre for breakfast and the +ride of the morrow, he rattles off to his rooms, leaving an +astounded circle.</p> +<p>Golden claims to their friendly gratitude bound them +together.</p> +<p>Colonel Joe has the "dejeuner a deux" in his rooms. He says, +"More homelike, padre, you know," ushering the priest to the +table. Under the influence of Chablis, the Californians become +intimate.</p> +<p>Raoul arrives with news that Madame de Santos will be pleased +to have the gentlemen call next day in the afternoon. After an +arrangement about the bust, the horses, champing before the +doors, bear the elders to the Bois, now beginning to abandon its +battle-field appearance.</p> +<p>Long is their conference on that ride. PŠre +Fran‡ois is thoughtful, as he spends his evening hour at +dominoes with Aristide Dauvray. His eyes stray to fair Louise, +busied with her needle. At last, he has a man of the world to +lean on, in tracing up this child's parentage. Raoul and Armand +are deep in schemes to enrich Joe's queer collection, the nucleus +of that "bachelor ranch," "Ophir Villa."</p> +<p>In all the bravery of diamonds and goldsmithing the Westerner +descends from his carriage, at the doors of Madame de Santos, +next day.</p> +<p>Pale-faced, aristocratic PŠre Fran‡ois is a foil +to the "occidental king." Mind and matter.</p> +<p>Waiting for the Donna, the gentlemen admire her salon.</p> +<p>Pictures, objets d'art, dainty bibelots, show the elegance of +a queen of the "monde."</p> +<p>"Beats a steamboat," murmurs Colonel Joe, as the goddess +enters the domain.</p> +<p>There is every grace in her manner. She inquires as to mutual +friends of the "Southern set." Her praises of Raoul are justified +in the beautiful bust, a creation of loveliness, on its Algerian +onyx pedestal.</p> +<p>Colonel Joe Woods is enchanted. He wonders if he has ever seen +this classic face before.</p> +<p>"I drive in the Bois," says madame, with an arch glance.</p> +<p>She knows the Californian is a feature of that parade, with +his team. Paris rings with Colonel Joe's exploits.</p> +<p>"No poor stock for me," is Colonel Joe's motto.</p> +<p>With a cunning glance in his eyes, the miner asks: "Were you +ever in California, madame?"</p> +<p>Her lips tremble as she says, "Years ago I was in San +Francisco."</p> +<p>Colonel Joe is thoughtful. His glance follows madame, who is +ringing a silver bell.</p> +<p>The butler bows.</p> +<p>"I shall not drive this afternoon," she says.</p> +<p>With graceful hospitality, she charms PŠre +Fran‡ois. Chat about the Church and France follows.</p> +<p>The gentlemen are about to take their leave. Madame de Santos, +observing that PŠre Fran‡ois speaks Spanish as well +as French, invites him to call again. She would be glad to +consult him in spiritual matters.</p> +<p>Colonel Joe speaks of California, and asks if he may be of any +service.</p> +<p>"I have no interests there," the lady replies with +constraint.</p> +<p>Passing into the hall, PŠre Fran‡ois stands +amazed as if he sees a ghost.</p> +<p>"What's the matter, padre?" queries Colonel Joe as they enter +their carriage.</p> +<p>"Did you see that maid who passed us as we left the salon?" +remarks the padre.</p> +<p>"Yes, and a good-looking woman too," says the Californian.</p> +<p>"That woman is the guardian of Louise Moreau," the padre +hastily replies.</p> +<p>"Look here! What are you telling me?" cries the Colonel.</p> +<p>"There's some deviltry up! I'm sorry I must leave. But how do +you know?" he continues.</p> +<p>The priest tells him about artful Josephine, whose womanly +curiosity has been piqued. He has seen this person on her visits. +Useless to trace her. Entering an arcade or some great shop, she +has baffled pursuit. Through the Bois, the friends commune over +this mystery.</p> +<p>"I'll fix you out," says Woods, with a shout. "I've got a +fellow here who watched some people for me on a mining deal. I'll +rip that household skeleton all to pieces. We'll dissect it!"</p> +<p>He cries: "Now, padre, I'm a-going to back you through this +affair," as they sit in his rooms over a good dinner. Colonel Joe +has sent all his people away. He wants no listeners. As he pours +the Cliquot, he says, "You give me a week and I'll post you. +Listen to me. You can see there is an object in hiding that +child. Keep her safely guarded. Show no suspicion. You make +friends with the lady. Leave the maid dead alone. Take it easy, +padre; we'll get them. I'll tell my bankers to back you up. I'll +take you down; I'll make you solid.</p> +<p>"All I fear is they will get frightened and take her off. You +people have got to watch her. They'll run her off, if they +suspect. Poor little kid.</p> +<p>"It's strange," says the miner; "they could have put this poor +little one out of the way easy. But they don't want that. Want +her alive, but kept on the quiet. I suppose there's somebody +else," he mutters.</p> +<p>"By Jove! that's it. There's property or money hanging on her +existence. Now, padre, I'll talk plain. You priests are pretty +sly. You write your people about this child. I'll see you have +money. My banker will work the whole municipality of Paris for +you.</p> +<p>"That's it; we've got it." The miner's fist makes the glasses +rattle, as he quaffs his wine.</p> +<p>"Don't lose sight of her a minute. Don't show your hand."</p> +<p>The priest rolls home in Joe's carriage. He busies himself the +next days with going to the bank, conferring with his fellows, +and awaking the vigilance of Josephine.</p> +<p>It is left to the priest and his ally from the ranks of +"Mammon" to follow these tangled threads. The younger men know +nothing, save the injunctions to Josephine.</p> +<p>Ten days after this visit, Colonel Joe, who has run over to +London, where he closed some financial matters of note, sends +post-haste to PŠre Fran‡ois this note:</p> +<p>"Come up, padre. I've got a whole history for you. It will +make your eyes open. I want you to talk to the detective."</p> +<p>Even the Californian's horses are not quick enough to-day for +the priest.</p> +<p>Ushered in, he finds Colonel Joe on the broad grin.</p> +<p>Accepting a cigar, his host cries, "We've struck it rich. A +mare's nest. Now, Vimont, give my friend your report."</p> +<p>Joe Woods smokes steadily, as Jules Vimont reads from his +note-book:</p> +<p>"Madame Natalie de Santos arrived in Paris with two young +girls, one of whom is at the Sacre-Coeur under the name of Isabel +Valois; the other is the child who is visited by Marie Berard, +her maid. She is called Louise Moreau."</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois listens to this recital. The +detective gives a description of the beautiful stranger, and at +length.</p> +<p>Joe interrogates. The priest gravely nods until the recital is +finished. Vimont shuts his book with a snap and disappears, at a +nod from the miner. The friends are alone.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois is silent. His face is pale. Joe +is alarmed at his feeling. Forcing a draught of Bourbon on the +padre, Joe cries, "What is the matter?"</p> +<p>"I see it now," murmurs the priest. "The children have been +changed. For what object?"</p> +<p>He tells Woods of the proofs gained in days of Louise's +illness.</p> +<p>"Your little friend is the heiress of Lagunitas?" Woods +asks.</p> +<p>"I am sure of it. We must prove it."</p> +<p>"Leave that to me," bursts out Joe, striding the room, puffing +at his cigar.</p> +<p>"How will you do it?" falters the priest.</p> +<p>"I will find the father of the other child," Joe yells. "I am +going to California. I will root up this business. I have a copy +of Vimont's notes. You write me all you remember of this history. +Meanwhile, not a word. No change in your game. You make foothold +in that house on the Elysees.</p> +<p>"There was no railroad when these people came here. I will get +the lists of passengers and steamer reports, I have friends in +the Pacific Mail."</p> +<p>Joe warms up. "Yes, sir. I'll find who is responsible for that +extra child. The man who is, is the party putting up for all this +splendor here. I think if I can stop the money supplies, we can +break their lines. I think my old 'companero,' Judge Hardin, is +the head-devil of this deal.</p> +<p>"It's just like him.</p> +<p>"Now, padre, I have got something to amuse me. You do just as +I tell you, and we'll checkmate this quiet game.</p> +<p>"We are not on the bedrock yet, but we've struck the vein. +Don't you say a word to a living soul here.</p> +<p>"I'll have that maid watched, and tell Vimont to give you all +the particulars of her cuttings-up.</p> +<p>"She's not the master-mind of this. She has never been to the +convent. There's a keynote in keeping these girls apart. I think +our handsome friend, Madame de Santos, is playing a sharp game." +In two days he has vanished.</p> +<p>In his voyage to New York and to the Pacific, Joe thinks over +every turn of this intrigue. If Hardin tries to hide Armand +Valois' fortune, why should he dabble in the mystery of these +girls?</p> +<p>Crossing the plains, where the buffalo still roam by +thousands, Woods meets in the smoking-room many old friends. A +soldierly-looking traveller attracts his attention. The division +superintendent makes Colonel Peyton and Colonel Woods acquainted. +Their friendship ripens rapidly. Joe Woods, a Southern +sympathizer, has gained his colonelcy by the consent of his +Western friends. It is a brevet of financial importance. Learning +his friend is a veteran of the "Stars and Bars," and a Virginian, +the Westerner pledges many a cup to their common cause. To the +battle-torn flag of the Confederacy, now furled forever.</p> +<p>As the train rattles down Echo Canyon, Peyton tells of the +hopes once held of a rising in the West.</p> +<p>Woods is interested. When Peyton mentions "Maxime Valois," the +Croesus grasps his hand convulsively.</p> +<p>"Did you serve with him?" Joe queries with eagerness. "He was +my pardner and chum."</p> +<p>"He died in my arms at Peachtree Creek," answers Peyton.</p> +<p>Joe embraces Peyton. "He was a game man, Colonel."</p> +<p>Peyton answers: "The bravest man I ever saw. I often think of +him, in the whirl of that struggle for De Gress's battery. Lying +on the sod with the Yankee flag clutched in his hand, its silk +was fresh-striped with his own heart's blood. The last sound he +heard was the roar of those guns, as we turned them on the +enemy."</p> +<p>"God! What a fight for that battery!" The Californian listens, +with bated breath, to the Virginian. He tells him of the youthful +quest for gold.</p> +<p>The war brotherhood of the two passes in sad review. Peyton +tells him of the night before Valois' death.</p> +<p>Joe Woods' eyes glisten. He cries over the recital. An eager +question rises to his lips. He chokes it down.</p> +<p>As Peyton finishes, Woods remarks:</p> +<p>"Peyton, I am going to get off at Reno, and go to Virginia +City. You come with me. I want to know about Valois' last +days."</p> +<p>Peyton is glad to have a mentor in the West. He has gained +neither peace nor fortune in wandering under the fringing palms +of Latin America.</p> +<p>Toiling up the Sierra Nevada, Woods shows Peyton where Valois +won his golden spurs as a pathfinder.</p> +<p>"I have a favor to ask of you, Peyton," says Joe. "I want to +hunt up that boy in Paris. I'm no lawyer, but I think he ought to +have some of this great estate. Now, Hardin is a devil for +slyness. I want you to keep silent as to Valois till I give you +the word. I'll see you into some good things here. It may take +time to work my game. I don't want Hardin to suspect. He's an +attorney of the bank. He counsels the railroad. He would spy out +every move."</p> +<p>"By the way, Colonel Woods," Peyton replies, "I have the +papers yet which were found on Valois' body. I sealed them up. +They are stained with his blood. I could not trust them to +chances. I intended to return them to his child. I have never +examined them."</p> +<p>Joe bounds from his seat. "A ten-strike! Now, you take a look +at them when we reach 'Frisco.' If there are any to throw a light +on his affairs, tell me. Don't breathe a word till I tell you. I +will probe the matter. I'll break Hardin's lines, you bet." The +speculator dares not tell Peyton his hopes, his fears, his +suspicions.</p> +<p>San Francisco is reached. Peyton has "done the Comstock." He +is tired of drifts, gallery, machinery, miners, and the +"laissez-aller" of Nevada hospitality. The comfort of Colonel +Joe's bachelor establishment places the stranger in touch with +the occidental city.</p> +<p>Received with open arms by the Confederate sympathizers, +Peyton is soon "on the stock market." He little dreams that Joe +has given one of his many brokers word to carry a stiff account +for the Virginian. Pay him all gains, and charge all losses to +the "Woods account."</p> +<p>Peyton is thrilled with the stock gambling of California +Street. Every one is mad. Servants, lawyers, hod carriers, +merchants, old maids, widows, mechanics, sly wives, thieving +clerks, and the "demi-monde," all throng to the portals of the +"Big Board." It is a money-mania. Beauty, old age, callow +boyhood, fading manhood, all chase the bubble values of the +"kiting stocks."</p> +<p>From session to session, the volatile heart of San Francisco +throbs responsive to the sliding values of these paper "stock +certificates."</p> +<p>Woods has departed for a fortnight, to look at a new ranch in +San Joaquin. He does not tell Peyton that he lingers around +Lagunitas. He knows Hardin is at San Francisco. A few hours at +the county seat. A talk with his lawyer in Stockton completes +Joe's investigations. No will of Maxime Valois has ever been +filed. The estate is held by Hardin as administrator after +"temporary letters" have been renewed. There are no accounts or +settlements. Joe smiles when he finds that Philip Hardin is +guardian of one "Isabel Valois," a minor. The estate of this +child is nominal. There is no inventory of Maxima Valois' estate +on file. County courts and officials are not likely to hurry +Judge Philip Hardin.</p> +<p>On the train to San Francisco, Woods smokes very strong cigars +while pondering if he shall hire a lawyer in town.</p> +<p>"If I could only choose one who would STAY bought when I +BOUGHT> him, I'd give a long price," Joe growls. With recourse +to his great "breast-pocket code," the Missourian runs over man +after man, in his mind. A frown gathers on his brow.</p> +<p>"If I strike a bonanza, I may have to call in some counsel. +But I think I'll have a few words with my friend Philip +Hardin."</p> +<p>Woods is the perfection of rosy good-humor, when he drags +Hardin away from his office next day to a cosey lunch at the +"Mint."</p> +<p>"I want to consult you, Judge," is his excuse. Hardin, now +counsel for warring giants of finance, listens over the terrapin +and birds, to several legal posers regarding Joe's affairs. Woods +has wide influence. He is a powerful friend to placate. Hardin, +easy now in money matters, looks forward to the United States +Senate. Woods can help. He is a tower of strength.</p> +<p>"They will need a senator sometime, who knows law, not one of +those obscure MUD-HEADS," says Hardin to himself.</p> +<p>Colonel Joe finishes his Larose. He takes a stiff brandy with +his cigar, and carelessly remarks:</p> +<p>"How's your mine, Judge?"</p> +<p>"Doing well, doing well," is the reply.</p> +<p>"Better let me put it on the market for you. You are getting +old for that sort of bother."</p> +<p>"Woods, I will see you by and by. I am trustee for the Valois +estate. He left no will, and I can't give a title to the ranch +till the time for minor heirs runs out. So I am running the mine +on my own account. Some outside parties may claim heirship."</p> +<p>"Didn't he leave a daughter?" says Woods.</p> +<p>"There is a girl—she's East now, at school; but, between +you and me, old fellow, I don't know if she is legitimate or not. +You know what old times were."</p> +<p>Colonel Joe grins with a twinge of conscience. He has had his +"beaux-jours."</p> +<p>"I will hold on till the limitation runs out. I don't want to +cloud the title to my mine, with litigation. It comes through +Valois."</p> +<p>"You never heard of any Eastern heirs?" Joe remarks, gulping a +"stiffener" of brandy.</p> +<p>"Never," says Hardin, reaching for his hat and cane. "The +Judge died during the war. I believe his boy died in Paris. He +has never turned up. New Orleans is gone to the devil. They are +all dead."</p> +<p>"By the way, Judge, excuse me." Woods dashes off a check for +Hardin. "I want to retain you if the 'Shooting Star' people fool +with my working the 'Golden Chariot;' I feel safe in your +hands."</p> +<p>Even Hardin can afford to pocket Joe's check. It is a prize. +Golden bait, Joseph.</p> +<p>Woods says "Good-bye," floridly, to his legal friend. He takes +a coupe at the door. "Cute old devil, Hardin; I'll run him down +yet," chuckles the miner. Joe is soon on his way to the Pacific +Mail Steamship office.</p> +<p>Several gray-headed officials greet the popular +capitalist.</p> +<p>He broaches his business. "I want to see your passenger lists +for 1865." He has notes of Vimont's in his hand. While the +underlings bring out dusty old folios, Joe distributes his pet +cigars. He is always welcome.</p> +<p>Looking over the ancient records he finds on a trip of the +Golden Gate, the following entries:</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Madame de Santos, + Miss Isabel Valois, + Marie Berard and child. +</pre> +<p>He calls the bookkeeper. "Can you tell about these +people?"</p> +<p>The man of ink scans the entry. He ponders and says:</p> +<p>"I'll tell you who can give you all the information, Colonel +Joe. Hardin was lawyer for this lady. He paid for their passages +with a check. We note these payments for our cash references. +Here is a pencil note: 'CK Hardin.' I remember Hardin coming +himself."</p> +<p>"Oh, that's all right!" says the Argonaut.</p> +<p>An adjournment of "all hands," to "renew those pleasing +assurances," is in order.</p> +<p>"Ah, my old fox!" thinks Woods. "I am going to find out who +gave Marie Berard that other child. But I won't ask YOU. YOUR +TIME IS TOO VALUABLE, Judge Philip Hardin."</p> +<p>He gives his driver an extra dollar at the old City Hall.</p> +<p>Joe Woods thinks he is alone on the quest. He knows not that +the Archbishop's secretary is reading some long Latin letters, +not three blocks away, which are dated in Paris and signed +Fran‡ois Ribaut. They refer to the records of the Mission +Dolores parish. They invoke the aid of the all-seeing eye of the +Church as to the history and rights of Isabel Valois.</p> +<p>PŠre Ribaut humbly begs the protection of his Grace for +his protege, Armand Valois, in case he visits California.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin, in his office, weaving his golden webs, +darkened here and there with black threads of crime, is deaf to +the cry of conscience. What is the orphaned girl to him? A mere +human puppet. He hears not the panther feet of the avengers of +wrong on his trail. Blind insecurity, Judge Hardin.</p> +<p>Woods has seized Captain Lee, and taken him out of his sanctum +to the shades of the "Bank Exchange."</p> +<p>The great detective captain, an encyclopedia of the unwritten +history of San Francisco, regards Woods with a twinkle in his +gray eye. The hunted, despairing criminal knows how steady that +eye can be. It has made hundreds quail.</p> +<p>Lee grins over his cigar. Another millionaire in trouble. +"Some woman, surely." The only question is "What woman?"</p> +<p>The fair sex play a mighty part in the mysteries of San +Francisco.</p> +<p>"Lee, I want you to hunt up the history of a woman for me," +says the old miner.</p> +<p>The captain's smile runs all over his face. "Why, Colonel +Joe!" he begins.</p> +<p>"Look here; no nonsense!" says Joseph, firmly. "It's a little +matter of five thousand dollars to you, if you can trace what I +want."</p> +<p>There is no foolishness in Lee's set features. He throws +himself back, studying his cigar ash. That five thousand dollars +is an "open sesame."</p> +<p>"What's her name?"</p> +<p>Joseph produces his notes.</p> +<p>"Do you remember Hardin sending some people to Panama, in +'65?" begins the Colonel. "Two women and two children. They +sailed on the GOLDEN GATE."</p> +<p>"Perfectly," says the iron captain, removing his cigar. "I +watched these steamers for the government. He was a Big Six in +the K.G.C., you remember, Colonel Joe?"</p> +<p>Joe winces; that Golden Circle dinner comes back, when he, +too, cheered the Stars and Bars.</p> +<p>"I see you do remember," says Lee, throwing away his cigar. +"Now be frank, old man. Tell me your whole game."</p> +<p>Woods hands him the list of the passengers. He is keenly eying +Lee.</p> +<p>"Who was that Madame de Santos?" he says eagerly.</p> +<p>"Is it worth five thousand to know?" says the detective, +quietly.</p> +<p>"On the dead square," replies Joe, "Cash ready."</p> +<p>"Do you remember the 'Queen of the El Dorado'?" Lee simply +says.</p> +<p>"Here! Great God, man!" cries Lee, for Joe Woods' fist comes +down on the table. Flying cigars, shattered glasses, and foaming +wine make a rare havoc around.</p> +<p>"By God!" shouts the oblivious Joe," the woman Hardin killed +'French Charlie' for."</p> +<p>"The same," says Lee, steadily, as he picks some splintered +glass out of his goatee. "Joe, you can add a suit of clothes to +that check."</p> +<p>"Stop your nonsense," says the happy Joe, ringing for the +waiter to clear away the wreck of his cyclonic fist. "The clothes +are O.K."</p> +<p>"Where did she come from to take that boat?" demands +Woods.</p> +<p>"From Hardin's house," says Lee.</p> +<p>A light breaks in on Colonel Joe's brain.</p> +<p>"And that woman with her?"</p> +<p>"Was her maid, who stayed with her from the time she left the +El Dorado, and ran the little nest on the hill. The mistress +never showed up in public."</p> +<p>"And the child who went with the maid?" Joe's voice +trembles.</p> +<p>"Was Hardin's child. Its mother was the 'Queen of the El +Dorado.'"</p> +<p>Woods looks at Lee.</p> +<p>"Can you give me a report, from the time of the killing of +'French Charlie' down to the sailing?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I can," says the inscrutable Lee.</p> +<p>"Let me have it, to-morrow morning. Not a word to Hardin."</p> +<p>"All right, Colonel Joe," is the answer of silent Lee.</p> +<p>Joseph chokes down his feelings, orders a fresh bottle of +wine, some cigars, and calls for pen and ink.</p> +<p>While the waiter uncorks the wine, Joe says: "What do you pay +for your clothes, Lee?"</p> +<p>"Oh, a hundred and fifty will do," is the modest answer. "That +carries an overcoat."</p> +<p>Joe laughs as he beautifies a blank check with his order to +himself, to pay to himself, five thousand one hundred and fifty +dollars, and neatly indorses it, "Joseph Woods." "I guess that's +the caper, Captain," he says. This "little formality" over, the +wine goes to the right place THIS TIME.</p> +<p>"Now I don't want to see you any more till I get your +reminiscences of that lady," remarks Joe, reaching for his +gold-headed club.</p> +<p>"On time, ten o'clock," is the response of the police +captain.</p> +<p>"Have you seen her since, Joe? She was a high stepper," muses +the Captain. He has been a great connoisseur of loveliness. Many +fair ones have passed under his hands in public duty or private +seance.</p> +<p>"That's my business," sturdy Joe mutters, with an unearthly +wink. "You give me back my check, old man, and I'll tell you what +<i>I</i> know."</p> +<p>Lee laughs. "I'm not so curious, Colonel."</p> +<p>They shake hands, and the gray old wolf goes to his den to +muse over what has sent Joe Woods on a quest for this "fallen +star."</p> +<p>Lee wastes no time in mooning. The check is a "pleasing +reality." The memories of Hortense Duval are dearer to Joe than +to him. His pen indites the results of that watchful espionage +which covers so many unread leaves of private life in San +Francisco.</p> +<p>There is an innocent smile on Woods' face when he strolls into +his own office and asks Peyton to give him the evening in quiet. +Strongly attracted by the Virginian, Woods has now a double +interest in his new friend.</p> +<p>In the sanctum, Woods says, "Peyton, I am going to tell you a +story, but you must first show me the papers you have kept so +long of poor Valois."</p> +<p>Peyton rises without a word. He returns with a packet.</p> +<p>"Here you are, Woods. I have not examined them yet. Now, what +is it?"</p> +<p>"You told me Valois made a will before he died, Peyton," +begins Woods.</p> +<p>"He did, and wrote to Hardin. He wrote to the French priest at +his ranch."</p> +<p>Woods starts. "Ha, the damned scoundrel! Go on; go on." Joe +knows PŠre Fran‡ois never got that letter. "I read +those documents. His letter of last wishes to Hardin. When I was +in Havana, I found Hardin never acknowledged the papers."</p> +<p>Woods sees it all. He listens as Peyton tells the story.</p> +<p>"We have to do with a villain," says Joe. "He destroyed the +papers or has hidden them. Colonel, open this packet." Joe's +voice is solemn.</p> +<p>With reverent hand, Peyton spreads the papers before the +miner. There are stains upon them. Separating them, he arranges +them one by one. Suddenly he gives a gasp.</p> +<p>"My God! Colonel Joe, look there!"</p> +<p>Woods springs to his side.</p> +<p>It is a "message from the dead."</p> +<p>Yes, lying for years unread, between the last letters of his +wife and the tidings of her death, is an envelop addressed:</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Major Henry Peyton, + Fourteenth Louisiana Inf'y, + C.S.A." +</pre> +<p>Tears trickle through Peyton's fingers, as he raises his head, +and breaks the seal.</p> +<p>"Read it, Major," says Woods huskily. He is moved to the core +of his heart. It brings old days back.</p> +<p>Peyton reads:</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Atlanta—In the field, + July 21, 1864. +</pre> +<p>My Dear Peyton:—I am oppressed with a strange unrest +about my child! I do not fear to meet death to-morrow. I feel it +will take me away from my sadness. I am ready. Our flag is +falling. I do not wish to live to see it in the dust. But I am a +father. As I honor you, for the brotherhood of our life together, +I charge you to watch over my child. Hardin is old; something +might happen to him. I forgot a second appointment in the will; I +name you as co-executor with him. Show him this. It is my dying +wish. He is a man of honor. I have left all my estate to my +beloved child, Isabel Valois. It is only right; the property came +by my marriage with my wife, her dead mother. In the case of the +death of my child, search out the heirs of Judge Valois and see +the property fairly divided among them. Hardin is the soul of +honor, and will aid you in all. I desire this to be a codicil to +my will, and regarded as such. I could not ask you to ride out +again for me this wild night before my last battle.</p> +<p>The will you witnessed, is the necessary act of the death of +my wife. If you live through the war, never forget</p> +<p>Your friend and comrade, MAXIME VALOIS.</p> +<p>P.S. If you go to California, look up Joe Woods. He is as true +a man as ever breathed, and would be kind to my little girl. +Padre Francisco Ribaut married me at Lagunitas to my Dolores. +Good-bye and good-night. M.V. — The men gaze at each other +across the table, touched by this solemn voice sweeping down the +path of dead years. That lonely grave by the lines of Atlanta +seemed to have opened to a dead father's love. Peyton saw the +past in a new light. Valois' reckless gallantry that day was an +immolation. His wife's death had unsettled him.</p> +<p>Joe Woods' rugged breast heaved in sorrow as he said, "Peyton, +I will stand by that child. So help me, God! And he thought of me +at the last—he thought of me!" The old miner chokes down a +rising sob. Both are in tears.</p> +<p>"Look here, Colonel!" said Woods briskly. "This will never do! +You will want to cheer up a little, for your trip, you know."</p> +<p>"Trip?" says the wondering Virginian.</p> +<p>"Why, yes," innocently remarks Joseph Woods. "You are going to +New Orleans to look up about the Valois boy. Then you are to see +those bankers at Havana, and get proof before the Consul-General +about the documents. I want you to send your affidavit to me. +I've got a lawyer in New York, who is a man. I'll write him. You +can tell him all. I'm coming on there soon. After you get to New +York from Havana, you will go to Paris and stay there till I +come."</p> +<p>Peyton smiles even in his sadness. "That's a long journey, but +I am yours, Colonel. Why do I go to Paris?"</p> +<p>"You are going to answer the letter of that dead man," +impressively remarks Joseph.</p> +<p>"How?" murmurs Peyton.</p> +<p>"By being a father to his lonely child and watching over her. +There's two girls there. You can keep an eye on them both. I'll +trap this old scoundrel here. You've got to leave this town. He +might suspect YOU when I start MY machinery.</p> +<p>"I'll plow deep here. I'll meet you in New York. Now, I want +you to take to-morrow's train. I'll run your stock account, +Colonel Henry," Woods remarks, with a laugh.</p> +<p>The next day, Peyton speeds away on his errand after receiving +the old miner's last orders. His whispered adieu was: "I'm going +to stand by my dead pardner's kid, for he thought of me at the +last."</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII. — WEAVING SPIDERS.—A COWARD +BLOW.—MARIE BRARD'S DOOM.</h2> +<p>Peyton's good-bye rings in Woods' ears as the train leaves. +The boxes and parcels forced on the Confederate veteran, are +tokens of his affection. The cognac and cigars are of his own +selection. Joe's taste in creature comforts is excellent, and +better than his grammar.</p> +<p>On the ferry, Joe surveys San Francisco complacently from the +steamer.</p> +<p>"I've got those documents in the vaults. I'll have Peyton's +evidence. I rather fancy Captain Lee's biography will interest +that dame in Paris. I will prospect my friend Hardin's +surroundings. He must have some devil to do his dirty work. I +will do a bit of 'coyote work' myself. It's a case of dog eat +dog, here."</p> +<p>Joseph classes all underhand business as "coyote work." He +appreciates the neatness with which that furtive Western beast +has taken his boots, soap, his breakfast and camp treasures under +his nose.</p> +<p>Invincible, invisible, is the coyote.</p> +<p>"By Heavens! I'll make that old wolf Hardin jump yet!" Joseph +swears a pardonable oath.</p> +<p>After writing several telling letters to the Padre and Vimont, +he feels like a little stroll. He ordered Vimont to guard Louise +Moreau at any cost. "No funny business," he mutters.</p> +<p>"If she's the girl, that scoundrel might try to remove her +from this world," thinks Joseph. "As for the other girl, he's got +a tiger cat to fight in the 'de Santos.'"</p> +<p>Colonel Woods beams in upon the clerks of Judge Hardin. That +magnate is absent. The senatorial contest is presaged by much +wire-pulling.</p> +<p>"I don't see the young man who used to run this shebang," +carelessly remarks the Croesus.</p> +<p>"Mr. Jaggers is not here any longer," smartly replies his pert +successor, to whom the fall of Jaggers was a veritable +bonanza.</p> +<p>"What's the matter with him?" says Woods. "I wanted him to do +a job of copying for me."</p> +<p>The incumbent airily indicates the pantomime of conveying the +too frequent Bourbon to his lips.</p> +<p>"Oh, I see! The old thing," calmly says Woods. "Fired out for +drinking."</p> +<p>The youth nods. "He is around Montgomery Street. You 'most +always will catch him around the 'old corner' saloon."</p> +<p>Joseph Woods is familiar with that resort of bibulous lawyers. +He wanders out aimlessly.</p> +<p>While Barney McFadden, the barkeeper, surveys Colonel Joseph +swallowing his extra cocktail, he admires himself in the mirror. +He dusts off his diamond pin with a silk handkerchief.</p> +<p>"Jaggers! Oh, yes; know him well. In back room playing pedro. +Want him?"</p> +<p>Woods bows. The laconic Ganymede drags Jaggers away from his +ten-cent game.</p> +<p>Impelled by a telegraphic wink, Barney deftly duplicates the +favorite tipple of the Californian. The Golden State has been +sustained in its growth, by myriads of cocktails. It is the State +coat of arms.</p> +<p>"Want to see me? Certainly, Colonel." Jaggers is aroused.</p> +<p>In a private room, Jaggers wails over his discharge. His +pocket is his only fear. Otherwise, he is in Heaven. His life +now, is all "Cocktails and poker!" "Poker and cocktails!" It +leaves him little time for business. Woods knows his man—a +useful tool.</p> +<p>"Look here, Jaggers; I know your time is valuable." Jaggers +bows gravely; he smells a new twenty-dollar piece; it will extend +his "cocktail account." "I want you to do some business for me." +Jaggers looks stately.</p> +<p>"I'm your man, Colonel," says Jaggers, who is, strange to say, +very expert in his line. The trouble with Jaggers is, the saloon +is not near enough to Judge Hardin's office. The OFFICE should be +in the SALOON. It would save useless walking.</p> +<p>"I want you to search a title for me," says Colonel Joe, from +behind a cloud of smoke. Jaggers sniffs the aroma. Joseph hands +him several "Excepcionales."</p> +<p>Jaggers becomes dignified and cool. "Is there money in it, +Colonel?" he says, with a gleam of his ferret eyes.</p> +<p>"Big money," decisively says Woods.</p> +<p>"I'm very busy now," objects Jaggers. He thinks of his +ten-cent ante in that pedro game.</p> +<p>"I want you to give me your idea of the title to the Lagunitas +mine. I am thinking of buying in," continues Joe. "I'll give you +five hundred dollars, in cold twenties, if you tell me what you +know."</p> +<p>"How soon?" Jaggers says, with a gasp.</p> +<p>"Right off!" ejaculates Woods, banging the bell for two more +cocktails.</p> +<p>Jaggers drains the fiery compound. He whispers with burning +breath in Woods' ears:</p> +<p>"Make it a cool thousand, and swear you'll look out for me. +I'll give the thing dead away. You know what a son-of-a-gun +Hardin is?"</p> +<p>Woods bows. He DON'T know, but he is going to find out. "I'll +give you a job in my mine (the Golden Chariot), as time-keeper. +You can keep drunk all your life, except at roll-call. If Hardin +hunts you up there, I'll have the foreman pitch him down the +shaft. Is this square?"</p> +<p>"Honor bright!" says Jaggers, extending his palm. "Honor +bright!" says Joseph, who dares not look too joyous.</p> +<p>Jaggers muses over another cocktail. "You go to the bank, and +get a thousand dollars clean stuff. Give me a coup‚. I'll +give you the things you want, in half an hour. I've got 'em +stowed away. Don't follow me!"</p> +<p>Woods nods, and throws him a double-eagle. "I'll be here when +you come back. Keep sober till we're done. I'll give you a pass +to Virginia City, so you can finish your drunk in high altitudes. +It's healthier, my boy!" Joe winks.</p> +<p>Jaggers is off like a shot. Colonel Joseph walks two blocks to +the bank. He returns with fifty yellow double-eagles.</p> +<p>"Got to fight coyote style to catch a coyote!" is the murmur +of Colonel Woods to his inward monitor. "It's for the fatherless +kid."</p> +<p>"Barney," impressively says Joseph, "make me a good cocktail +this time! Send 'em in, ANY WAY, when that young man returns. His +life is insured. <i>I</i> have to work for a living. Make one for +yourself. YOU are responsible."</p> +<p>Barney's chef d'oeuvre wins a smile from the genial son of +Missouri. As the last drops trickle down his throat, Jaggers +enters. He has had external cocktails. He is flushed, but +triumphant.</p> +<p>"Colonel, you're a man of honor. There's your stuff." He +throws an envelope on the table.</p> +<p>Joseph Woods opens the packet. "Just count that, young man, +while I look at these."</p> +<p>He peruses the papers handed him, with interest. Jaggers +follows him.</p> +<p>"This is all you have. Anything else in the office?" says +Woods.</p> +<p>"Not a scratch. Colonel, I thought they would come in handy." +Jaggers' work is done.</p> +<p>"Take care of your money, my lad. It is yours," says Woods. He +rings for Barney, and indites a note to his foreman at the +"Golden Chariot." "You better get up there, to-night, Jaggers," +he says, handing him the note and a pass. "Your appointment is +only good for that train. You give that note to Hank Daly. He'll +supply you all the whiskey you want, free. By the way, the boys +up there play poker pretty well. Now you keep cool, or you'll get +shot as well as lose your money. Don't you forget to stay there, +if it's ten years till I want you. Daly will have orders for +you.</p> +<p>"If you come back here, Hardin will kill you like a dog, if he +finds this out."</p> +<p>"And you?" murmurs Jaggers, who is imbibing the stirrup +cup.</p> +<p>"Oh, I'll look out for that!" remarks cheerful Joe Woods. +Armed with substantial "persuaders," Jaggers leaves with an agent +of Barney's. He has orders to see Jaggers and his "baggage," +started for Virginia City.</p> +<p>Jaggers beams. Joe Woods never drops a friend. His future +smiles before him. Exit Jaggers.</p> +<p>Woods reads the documents. One is a press copy of a letter +dated January, 1864, addressed to Colonel Maxime Valois, from +Hardin, asking him to sell him the quartz claims on the Lagunitas +grant.</p> +<p>The answer of Valois is written while recovering from his +wounds. It reads:</p> +<p>"TALLULAH, GEORGIA, March 1, 1864.</p> +<p>"MY DEAR HARDIN: I have your letter, asking me to sell you the +quartz leads on the Lagunitas grant. I am still suffering from my +wound, and must be brief.</p> +<p>"I cannot do this. My title is the title of my wife. I have no +right to dispose of her property by inheritance, without her +consent. She has my child to look after. As the ranch income may +fail some day, I will not cut off her chances to sell. It is her +property. I would not cloud it. I will join my regiment soon. If +the war ends and I live to return, I will arrange with you. I +have no power to do this, now, as my wife would have to join in +the sale. I will not ask her to diminish the value of the tract. +I leave no lien on this property. My wife and child have it free +from incumbrance if I die.</p> +<p>"Address me at Atlanta, Georgia.</p> +<h3>"YOURS, MAXIME VALOIS."</h3> +<p>"I think I hold four aces now, Mr. Philip Hardin," says Woods, +contemplating himself in the mirror over the bar as he settles +with the gorgeous Barney.</p> +<p>"By the way," remarks Woods, "Barney; if that young man owes +you a bill, send it around to my office." Barney escorts his +visitor to the door, bowing gratefully. Woods departs in a +quandary.</p> +<p>"I guess I'll gather up all my documents, and take a look over +things. New York is the place for me to get a square +opinion."</p> +<p>When Woods reaches New York he meets Peyton, successful in his +tour for evidence. On consultation with Judge Davis, his adviser, +Woods sends Peyton to Tallulah. It is likely Valois' papers may +be found, for the Colonel "joined" hurriedly on the last advance +of Sherman. Colonel Joseph imparts his ideas to his counsel. A +certified copy of the transfer recorded by Hardin, of the +Lagunitas mine, is sent on by Jaggers, directed in his trip by +Hank Daly from the mine.</p> +<p>In five days a despatch from Tallulah gladdens the miner, who +longs for Paris:</p> +<p>"Found and examined baggage. Original letter in my hands. +Coming with all. Many other papers.</p> +<h3>"PEYTON."</h3> +<p>On the Virginian's arrival Judge Davis instructs the friends. +Woods insists on Peyton taking joint charge of the quest for the +orphan's fortune.</p> +<p>"Hardin is responsible under his trusteeship. You can't force +Peyton on him as co-executor. He has concealed the will. A suit +now would warn the villain and endanger the child's life. Take +the certified copy of the transfer to Paris. Get the priest's +deposition that the document is forged; then guard the girl as if +she were your life. In a few years the heiress will be entitled +to claim her estate. Keep the child near Paris, but change her +residence often. Watch the maid and Madame de Santos. Follow them +to California. Produce the girl you claim to be the heiress. I +will give you a letter to an advocate in Paris, who will close up +the proof. Beware of Hardin! If he suspects, the child's life may +be in danger!"</p> +<p>"I'll kill him myself if there is any foul play!" roars Joe +Woods.</p> +<p>"My dear Colonel, that would not bring the child back," +remarks Judge Davis, smiling at his handsome counsel fee. "Count +on me! Use the cable."</p> +<p>On the Atlantic the guardians agree on their duties. "I will +interview Madame de Santos when I close some business in London," +says Woods grimly.</p> +<p>Peyton, with credentials to Padre Francisco, speeds from +Liverpool to Paris. He arrives none too soon.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin's villany strikes from afar!</p> +<p>Judge Hardin, passing the county seat, on his way to the mine, +looks in to obtain his annual tax papers. A voluble official +remarks:</p> +<p>"Going to sell your mine, Judge?"</p> +<p>"Certainly not, sir," replies the would-be Senator, with +hauteur.</p> +<p>"Excuse me. You sent for certified copies of the title. We +thought you were putting it on the market."</p> +<p>Hardin grows paler than his wont. Some one has been on the +trail. He asks no questions. His cipher-book is at San Francisco. +Who is on the track? He cannot divine. The man applying was a +stranger who attracted no attention. The Judge telegraphs to the +mine for his foreman to come to San Francisco. He returns to his +house on the hill. From his private safe he extracts the last +letters of Natalie de Santos.</p> +<p>Since her urgent appeal, she has been brief and cold. She is +waiting. Is this her stroke? He will see. Has anyone seen the +child and made disclosures? His heart flutters. He must now +placate Natalie. The child must be quickly removed from Paris. He +dare not give a reason. No, but he can use a bribe.</p> +<p>After several futile attempts he pens this cipher:</p> +<p>Remove child instantly to Dresden. Telegraph your address on +arrival. Definite settlement as you wished. Remember your +promise. Directions by mail. Imperative.</p> +<h3>PHILIP.</h3> +<p>Hardin chafes anxiously before a reply reaches him. When he +reads it, he rages like a fiend. It clearly reads:</p> +<p>I will not obey. Marry me first. Come here. Keep your oath. I +will keep my promise. A settlement on the other child is no +safeguard to me. She must have a name. Letters final. Useless to +telegraph. HORTENSE.</p> +<p>When Hardin's rage subsides, he reviews the situation in his +palace. He is safe for years from an accounting, yet it is coming +on. If he brings the heiress to California, it will precipitate +it. Secret plans for the Senate of the United States are now +maturing. Marriage with Hortense. Impossible. His friends urge +his giving his name to an ambitious lady of the "blue blood" of +his Southern home. She is a relative of the head of the +Democratic capitalists. This is a "sine qua non." The lady has +claims on these honors. It has been a secret bargain to give his +hand in return for that seat. Hortense talks madness. Never.</p> +<p>As for facing her, he dare not. He has established her. She is +too subtle to risk herself out of the lines she has found safe. +Who can be the "Deus ex machina"?</p> +<p>Ah, that Italian meddler, Villa Rocca! Hardin weaves a scheme. +He will wait her letters. If the Italian is his enemy, he will +lure him to California and then——</p> +<p>Ah, yes, till then, patience—the patience of the tiger +crouching at the water-pool for his coming prey.</p> +<p>Peyton loses no time in Paris. He reaches the home of Aristide +Dauvray. He is welcomed by the circle. The young artists are busy +with brush and modelling tool. Woods' patronage has been a +blessing. The fame of his orders has been extended by the +exhibition of the works ordered by him. His bankers have directed +the attention of the travelling Americans to the young man.</p> +<p>Louise Moreau is no longer a bud, but an opening rose. So fair +is she, so lovely, that Armand feels his heart beat quicker when +the girl nears his canvas to admire his skill. By the direction +of PŠre Fran‡ois, she leaves the house no more for +her lessons. There is a secret guard of loving hearts around +her.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois meets Peyton with open arms. They +are to be joint guardians over the innocent child of destiny.</p> +<p>At Peyton's hotel, the men commune. It is not strange that the +ex-Confederate is comfortably settled opposite the Dauvray +mansion! In an exchange of opinion with the able Josephine, it is +agreed that one of the young men or the Colonel shall be always +at hand.</p> +<p>Woods meditates a "coup de maetre." He intends, on his +arrival, to remove the girl Louise where no malignity of Hardin +can reach her, to some place where even Marie B‚rard will +be powerless. He will force some one to show a hand. Then, God +keep the villain who leaves his tree to fight in the open! It is +war to the death. Woods directs Peyton to use his bankers and the +police, telegraphing him at London. He has a fear they have been +followed to Europe. The bankers understand that Peyton and the +priest are Woods' ambassadors.</p> +<p>Marie B‚rard comes no more to the home of her charge. +Her letters are sent by a commissionaire. Peyton reads in this a +danger signal. The soldier is on the watch for treachery. His +quiet habits are easily satisfied. He has his books, daily +journals, and also French lessons from charming Louise.</p> +<p>It is sunny splendor at the house on the Champs Elys‚es, +where Natalie de Santos moves in her charmed circle of luxury. +While Peyton waits for the "Comstock Colonel," an anxious woman +sits in her queenly boudoir.</p> +<p>Natalie's beauty is ravishing. The exquisite elegance of her +manner is in keeping with the charms of the shining loveliness +which makes her a cynosure in the "Bois."</p> +<p>Face to face with a dilemma, the fair "chƒtelaine" racks +her brain for a new expedient. Her woman's wit is nonplussed.</p> +<p>Villa Rocca DEMANDS, URGES, PLEADS, SUES for marriage. Is it +love? Of all her swains he is the only one who touches her heart. +At his approach, her tell-tale pulse beats high. She dare not yet +quit Hardin. There is a campaign before her. To force Hardin to +marry her, even secretly, is the main attack. He is now old. +Then, to establish her daughter as the heiress of Lagunitas. +After Hardin's death, marriage with Villa Rocca. That is the +goal. But how to restrain his lover-like ardor.</p> +<p>She smiles at her reflection in the glass. She knows "the +fatal gift of beauty." It is another woman than the "queen of the +gambling hell" who smiles back at her. The pearls on her neck +rise and fall. Hardin! Ah, yes; his possible treachery! Would he +dare to take the convent pupil away from her? Perhaps.</p> +<p>A devilish smile plays on her lips. She will let him steal his +own child; the other, the REAL Lady of Lagunitas, he never shall +know. Gods! If he should be aware of it. It must be prevented. +Whom can she trust? No one.</p> +<p>Villa Rocca? Triumph shines in her eyes! She must definitely +promise him marriage in these happy years, and give him the child +as a gage. He can hide her in his Italian hills. He really has a +bit of a castle under the olive-clad hills of Tuscany.</p> +<p>But Marie B‚rard. She must outwit that maid. When the +child is gone, Marie's power ceases. No one will ever believe +her. A few thousand francs extra will satisfy the greedy +soubrette.</p> +<p>Seizing her pen, she sends a note to the club where baccarat +and billiards claim Villa Rocca's idle hours. He meets her in the +Bois de Boulogne, now splendid in transplanted foliage. His +coup‚ dismissed, they wander in the alleys so dear to +lovers. There is triumph in her face as they separate. A night +for preparation; next day, armed with credentials in "billets de +banque," Villa Rocca will lure the girl to her mysterious +guardian who will be "sick" near Paris. Once under way, Villa +Rocca will not stop till the girl is in his Italian manor.</p> +<p>With bounding heart, he assents. He has now Natalie's promise +to marry him. They are one in heart.</p> +<p>"I am yours to the death," he says.</p> +<p>While Natalie sips her chocolate next morning, a carriage +draws up before Aristide Dauvray's home. Josephine is busied with +the household. Louise, singing like a lark, gayly aids her +foster-mother. Aristide is far away. He toils at the new +structures of beauty. Arm in arm, the young artists are taking a +long stroll.</p> +<p>A gentleman of elegant appearance descends, with anxious +visage. The peal of the bell indicates haste. Josephine receives +her visitor. He curtly explains his visit. The guardian of Louise +Moreau needs her instant presence. She is ill, perhaps dying. In +her excitement, Josephine's prudence is forgotten. To lose the +income from the child, to hazard the child's chances of property. +"But the child must go: at once!" Josephine is awed and flurried. +As she hastily makes preparation, a ray of suspicion darts +through her mind. Who is this messenger?</p> +<p>"I think I had better accompany you," cries Josephine. Then, +"her house," to be left to only one feeble old servant.</p> +<p>"Ah, ciel! It is terrible."</p> +<p>"Madame, we have no time to lose. It is near the train time. +We will telegraph. You can follow in two hours," the stranger +remarks, in silken voice.</p> +<p>The visitor urges. The girl is cloaked and bonneted. Josephine +loses her head. "One moment,"—she rushes for her hat and +wrap; she will go at once, herself.</p> +<p>As she returns, there is a muffled scream at the door of the +coup‚.</p> +<p>"Mon Dieu!" Josephine screams. "My child! my Louise!" The +coup‚ door is closing.</p> +<p>A strong voice cries to the driver, "Allez vite!"</p> +<p>As "Jehu" is about to lash his horses, an apparition glues him +to his seat.</p> +<p>A gray-haired man points an ugly revolver at his head.</p> +<p>"Halt!" he says. The street is deserted. Villa Rocca opens the +door. A strong hand hurls him to the gutter. Louise is urged from +the coach. She is in her home again!</p> +<p>Peyton turns to grasp the man, who picks himself from the +gutter. He is ten seconds too late. The carriage is off like a +flash; it turns the corner at a gallop. Too cool to leave the +fort unguarded, Peyton enters the salon. He finds Josephine +moaning over Louise, who has fainted.</p> +<p>In a half-hour, PŠre Fran‡ois and the young men +are a bodyguard on duty. Peyton drives to the bank, and +telegraphs Woods at London:</p> +<p>"Come instantly! Attempt to abduct, prevented by me! Danger! +PEYTON."</p> +<p>The next night, in the rooms of the miner, the padre and +Peyton hold a council of war. An engine waits at the "Gare du +Nord." When sunlight gilds once more Notre Dame, Peyton enters +the car with a lady, clad in black. A maid, selected by Joseph +Vimont, is of the party. "Monsieur Joseph" himself strolls into +the depot. He jumps into the cab with the engineer. "Allons!" +They are off.</p> +<p>From forty miles away a few clicks of the telegraph flash the +news to Woods. The priest knows that Peyton and his ward are +safely "en route." "TrŠs bien!"</p> +<p>It is years before the light foot of Louise Moreau presses +again the threshold of her childhood's home. In a sunny chateau, +near Lausanne, a merry girl grows into a superb "Lady of the +Lake." She is "Louise Moreau," but Louise "en reine." She rules +the hearts of gentle Henry Peyton and the "autocrat of the Golden +Chariot." It is beyond the ken of "Natalie de Santos," or Philip +Hardin, to pierce the mystery of that castle by the waters of the +Swiss lake.</p> +<p>Visions of peace lend new charms to the love of the +pure-souled girl who wanders there.</p> +<p>Louise is not always alone by Leman's blue waters. Colonel +Peyton is a thoughtful, aging man, saddened by his fiery +past.</p> +<p>He sees nothing. He dreams of the flag which went down in +battle and storm. The flag of which Father Ryan sang—"in +fond recollection of a dead brother"—the ill-fated stars +and bars:</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Furl that banner, for 'tis weary, + Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary. + Furl it, fold it, it is best; + For there's not a man to wave it— + And there's not a sword to save it— + And there's not one left to lave it + In the blood which heroes gave it; + And its foes now scorn and brave it; + Furl it, hide it; let it rest." +</pre> +<p>But younger and brighter eyes than his own, dimmed with battle +smoke, look love into each other. Louise and Armand feel the +throbbing whispers of the lake in their own beating hearts.</p> +<p>Far above them there, the silver peaks lift unsullied altars +to the God of nature, life, and love.</p> +<p>And as the rosy flush of morning touches the Jungfrau, as the +tender light steals along the sunlit peaks of the Alps, so does +the light of love warm these two young hearts. Bounding pulse and +melting accent, blush of morning on rosy peak and maiden's cheek, +tell of the dawning day of light and love.</p> +<p>Shy and sweet, their natures mingle as two rivulets flowing to +the sea. Born in darkness and coldness, to dance along in warmth +and sunlight, and mingle with that great river of life which +flows toward the unknown sea.</p> +<p>In days of bliss, in weeks of happiness, in months of heart +growth, the two children of fortune drink in each other's eyes +the philter of love. They are sworn a new Paul and Virginia, to +await the uncertain gifts of the gods. The ardor of Armand is +reflected in the tender fidelity of graceful Louise, who is a +radiant woman now.</p> +<p>While this single car flies out of Paris, a "mauvais quart +d'heure" awaits Ernesto de Villa Rocca, at the hands of +Natalie.</p> +<p>Bounding from her seat, she cries, "Imbecile fool, you have +ruined both of us! The girl is lost now!"</p> +<p>In an hour the Italian evolves a new plan. Marie B‚rard +shall herself find and abduct the child! The Comte de Villa Rocca +will escort them to the Italian tower, where Natalie's dangerous +ward will be lost forever to Hardin.</p> +<p>But Marie must now be placated! Natalie de Santos smiles as +she points to a plump pocket-book.</p> +<p>"A magic sceptre, a magnetic charm, my dear Count." Her very +voice trickles with gold.</p> +<p>While Ernesto Villa Rocca and his promised bride dine in the +lingering refinement of a Parisian table, they await the return +of the baffled Marie. The maid has gone to arrange the departure +of Louise. No suspicion must be awakened! Once under way, then +silence!—quietly enforced. Ah, chloroform!</p> +<p>There was no etiquette in the sudden return of the pale-faced +maid; she dashed up, in a carriage, while the lovers dallied with +the dessert.</p> +<p>"Speak, Marie! What has happened?" cries Natalie, with a +sinking heart.</p> +<p>"Madame, she is gone! Gone forever!"</p> +<p>Madame de Santos bounds to the side of the defeated woman. "If +you are lying, beware!" she hisses. Her hand is raised. There is +a dagger flashing in the air. Villa Rocca wrests it from the +raging woman's hand. "No folly, Madame! She speaks the +truth!"</p> +<p>Marie stubbornly tells of her repulse. Josephine was "not +alone!" Blunt Aristide elbowed her out of the house, saying:</p> +<p>"Be off with you! The girl is gone! If you want to know where +she is, apply to the police. Now, don't show your lying face here +again! I will have you arrested! You are a child stealer! You and +your ruffian had better never darken this door. Go!"</p> +<p>Natalie de Santos sinks back in her chair. Her teeth are +chattering. A cordial restores her nerves. Count Villa Rocca +lingers, moody and silent.</p> +<p>What powerful adversary has baffled them?</p> +<p>"Marie, await me in my room!" commands Natalie. In five +minutes the roll of rubber-tired wheels proves that madame and +the count have gone out. "To the opera?" "To the theatre?" The +sly maid does not follow them. Her brain burns with a mad thirst +for vengeance. Her hoard must now be completed. "Has she been +tricked?" "Thousand devils, no!"</p> +<p>Softly moving over the driveway, Natalie eagerly pleads with +Villa Rocca. Her perfumed hair brushes his cheek. Her eyes gleam +like diamonds, as they sweep past the brilliantly lighted temples +of pleasure. She is Phryne and Aspasia to-night.</p> +<p>Villa Rocca is drunk with the delirium of passion. His mind +reels.</p> +<p>"I will do it," he hoarsely murmurs. Arrived at the "porte +cochŠre," the count lifts his hat, as madame reenters her +home.</p> +<p>There is a fatal glitter in Natalie's eyes, as she enters +alone her robing room.</p> +<p>When madame is seated in the freedom of a wonderful "robe de +chambre," her face is expectant, yet pleasant. Marie has +fulfilled every duty of the evening.</p> +<p>"You may go, Marie. I am tired. I wish to sleep," remarks the +lady, nonchalantly.</p> +<p>"Will madame pardon me?"</p> +<p>Marie's voice sounds cold and strange. Ah, it has come, then! +Natalie has expected this. What is the plot?</p> +<p>Natalie looks her squarely in the eyes. "Well?" she says, +sharply.</p> +<p>"I hope madame will understand that I close my duties here +to-night!" the maid slowly says.</p> +<p>"Indeed?" Madame lifts her eyebrows.</p> +<p>"I would be glad to be permitted to leave the house +to-morrow."</p> +<p>"Certainly, Marie!" quietly rejoins Natalie. "You may leave +when you wish. The butler will settle your account. I shall not +ring for you to-morrow." She leans back. Checkmate!</p> +<p>"Will madame excuse me?" firmly says the maid, now defiantly +looking her mistress in the eyes. "The butler can probably not +settle my little account."</p> +<p>"What is it?" simply asks Madame de Santos.</p> +<p>"It is one hundred thousand francs," firmly replies the +woman.</p> +<p>"I shall not pay it! decidedly not!" the lady answers.</p> +<p>"Very good. Judge Hardin might!"</p> +<p>The maid moves slowly to the door.</p> +<p>"Stay!" commands Natalie. "Leave my house before noon +to-morrow. You can come here with any friend you wish at this +hour to-morrow night. You will have your money. How do you wish +it?"</p> +<p>"In notes," the maid replies, with a bow. She walks out of the +room. She pauses at the threshold. "Will madame ask Georgette to +look over the property of madame?"</p> +<p>"Certainly. Send her to me!"</p> +<p>Marie B‚rard leaves her world-wearied mistress, forever, +and without a word.</p> +<p>When the other maid enters, madame finds need for the +assistant. "You may remain in my apartment and occupy the maid's +couch. I may want you. I am nervous. Stay!"</p> +<p>The under-maid is joyous at her promotion. Madame de Santos +sleeps the sleep of the just. Happy woman!</p> +<p>Marie B‚rard rages in her room, while her mistress +sleeps in a bed once used by a Queen of France.</p> +<p>The ticking clock drives her to madness. She throws it into +the court-yard.</p> +<p>Spurned! foiled! baffled!</p> +<p>Ah, God! She will have both fortunes. She remembers that +little paper of years ago.</p> +<p>Yes, to find it now. Near her heart. By the candle, she reads +the cabalistic words:</p> +<p>"Leroyne & Co., 16 Rue Vivienne."</p> +<p>Was it an imprudence to speak of Hardin? No, it was a mere +threat. Marie's cunning eyes twinkle. She will get this money +here quietly. Then, to the bank—to the bank! Two fortunes +at one "coup."</p> +<p>But she must see Jules! Jules Tessier! He must help now; he +must help. And how? He is at the Caf‚ Ney.</p> +<p>Yet she has often slipped out with him to the "bals de +minuit." A friend can replace him; servants keep each others' +secrets. Victory!</p> +<p>She must see him at once. Yes, Jules will guide her. He can go +to the bank, after she has received her money. And then the +double payment and vengeance on madame!</p> +<p>Like lightning, she muffles herself for the voyage. A +coup‚, ten minutes, and above all—a silent exit. All +is safe; the house sleeps. She steals to her lover. Jules Tessier +starts, seeing Marie in the ante-room at the Caf‚ Ney. +There are, even here, curious spies.</p> +<p>Marie's eyes are flashing; her bosom heaves. "Come instantly, +Jules! it is the hour. My coup‚ is here."</p> +<p>"Mon Dieu, in an instant!" The sly Jules knows from her shaken +voice the golden hoard is in danger.</p> +<p>In a few moments he is by her side in the coup‚. "Where +to?" huskily asks the head-waiter.</p> +<p>"To the 'bal de minuit.' We can talk there."</p> +<p>"Allons! au Jardin Bullier," he cries.</p> +<p>Before the "fiacre" stops, Jules has an idea of the situation. +Ah! a grand "coup." Jules is a genius!</p> +<p>Seated in a bosky arbor, the two talk in lowest tones over +their chicken and Burgundy.</p> +<p>There is a noisy party in the next arbor, but a pair of dark +Italian eyes peer like basilisks through the leaves of the tawdry +shade. The lovers are unconscious of the listener.</p> +<p>With joint toil, the pair of lovers prepare a letter to +Leroyne & Co., bankers, 16 Rue Vivienne.</p> +<p>Marie's trembling hand draws the paper from her bosom. She +knows that address by heart.</p> +<p>"Give it to me, Marie," he pleads, "for safety." A FRENCHWOMAN +can deny her lover nothing.</p> +<p>"Now, listen, 'ma cherie,'" Jules murmurs. "You get the one +treasure. To-morrow I go to the bank, the telegraph, you +understand, but not till you have the other money safe." Her eyes +sparkle. A double fortune! A double revenge! A veritable "coup de +Machiavelli."</p> +<p>"And I must go, dearest. I wait for you to-morrow. You get +your money; then I am off to the bank, and we will secure the +rest. Bravo!"</p> +<p>Jules snaps his fingers at the imbeciles. He sees the "Hotel +Tessier" rising in cloudland.</p> +<p>"Press this proud woman hard now. Be careful. I will pay the +coup‚; we might be followed."</p> +<p>While Jules is absent, Marie dreams the rosy dreams of +fruition. Love, avarice, revenge!</p> +<p>Down through the entrance, they saunter singly. Both are +Parisians. After a square or two brings them to night's +obscurity, parting kisses seal the dark bond; Judge Hardin shall +pay after madame; Marie's velvet hand grips Jules' palm in a +sinful compact.</p> +<p>Home by the usual way, past Notre Dame, and Jules will +discreetly watch her safety till she reaches the omnibus.</p> +<p>She knows not when she reaches Notre Dame that Tessier lies +behind her, stunned upon the sidewalk, his pockets rifled, and +his senses reeling under brutal blows. Her heart is blithe, for +here, under the shade of Notre Dame, she is safe. Twenty steps +bring her to the glaring street. Yet the avenger has panther +feet.</p> +<p>Out of the shadow, in a moment, she will be. "Oh, God!" the +cry smothers in her throat. Like lightning, stab after stab in +her back paralyzes her.</p> +<p>Bubbling blood from her quivering lips, Marie falls on her +face. A dark shadow glides away, past buttress and vaulted +door.</p> +<p>Is it Villa Rocca's ready Italian stiletto?</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>BOOK V. — REAPING THE WHIRLWIND.</h2> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII. — JOE WOODS SURPRISES A +LADY.—LOVE'S GOLDEN NETS.</h2> +<p>When a cab is halted, the horses shying at a prostrate body, +knots of street loungers gather at the cries of the discoverers +of Marie B‚rard's body. The "sergents de ville" raise the +woman. Her blood stains the sidewalk, in the shadow of the Church +of Christ. Twinkling lights flicker on her face. A priest passing +by, walks by the stretcher. He is called by his holy office to +pray for the "parting soul."</p> +<p>It is PŠre Fran‡ois. He has been in Notre Dame. +To the nearest hospital the bearers trudge. It is only a few +rods. When the body is examined, the pale face is revealed. +PŠre Fran‡ois clasps his hands.</p> +<p>It is, indeed, the mysterious guardian of Louise, stabbed and +dying. It is the hand of fate!</p> +<p>Breathing faintly, the poor wretch lies prone. There is no +apparent clue to her assailant. She is speechless. It has not +been robbery; her valuables are intact. Hastily anointing her, +PŠre Fran‡ois departs. He promises to return in the +morning. He hastens to the nearest cabstand, and whirls away to +Colonel Woods' hotel. Whose hand has dealt this blow? The +financier is startled at the priest's face. Joseph has been +jocular since the safe departure of Louise.</p> +<p>He listens. A prodigious whistle announces his feelings. +"Padre," says he, "if that Frenchwoman is alive to-morrow, you +must see her. Find out all she knows. I'll turn out at daybreak, +and watch Madame Santos' house myself. I think that handsome 'she +devil' had something to do with this.</p> +<p>"Got done with the maid. No more use for her. Now, my dear +friend, I will be here to-morrow when you show up. We will +interview the madame. She's the spider in this game."</p> +<p>Woods sleeps like a man in a tossing storm. He knows from the +padre's repeated visits at the Santos mansion that dying Marie +holds the secret of these two children's lives. If she could only +talk.</p> +<p>All night the miner battles for Valois' unknown child.</p> +<p>Up with the lark, Joe sends his "French fellow" for detective +Vimont. "Voila! un grand procŠs."</p> +<p>Vimont sees gold ahead.</p> +<p>By eight o'clock, ferret eyes are watching the Santos mansion, +the home of discreet elegance.</p> +<p>A stunning toilet is made by Joseph, in the vain hope of +impressing the madame. He will face this Lucrezia Borgia "in his +raiment of price." He has a dim idea, that splendid garb will +cover his business-like manner of coming to "first +principles."</p> +<p>A happy man is he at his well-ordered d‚jeuner, for +though Joe is no De Rohan or Montmorency, yet he eats like a lord +and drinks like a prince of the blood. He is the "first of his +family"—a golden fact.</p> +<p>He revenges himself daily for the volunteer cuisine of the +American River. Often has he laughed over haughty Valois' +iron-clad bread, his own flinty beans, the slabs of pork, cooked +as a burnt offering by slow combustion. Only one audacious Yankee +in the camp ever attempted a pie. That was a day of crucial +experiment, a time of bright hopes, a period of sad failure.</p> +<p>Vimont reports at noon. A visit from Villa Rocca of a +half-hour. Sauntering up the Elys‚es, after his departure, +the count, shadowed carefully, strolled to his club. He seemed to +know nothing. The waxen mask of Italian smoothness fits him like +a glove. He hums a pleasant tune as he strolls in. The morning +journals? Certainly; an hour's perusal is worthy the attention of +the elegant "flƒneur." Ah! another murder. He enjoys the +details.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois enters the colonel's rooms, with +grave air. While Vimont frets over his cigar, in the courtyard, +the story of Marie B‚rard is partly told.</p> +<p>She will not live through the night. At her bedside, Sisters +of Charity twain, tell the beads and watch the flickering pulse +of the poor lost girl. The police have done their perfunctory +work. They are only owls frightened by sunlight. Fools! Skilful +fools! She knows nothing of her assailant. Her feeble motions +indicate ignorance. She must have rest and quiet. The saddened +PŠre Fran‡ois can not disguise from Woods that he +suspects much. Much more than the police can dream in their +theories.</p> +<p>What is it? Hopes, fears, the rude story of a strange life, +and upon it all is the awful seal of the confessional. For, Marie +B‚rard has unfolded partly, her own life-story. Joe Woods +clasps the padre's hands.</p> +<p>"You know which of these children is a million-heiress, and +which a pauper?"</p> +<p>The padre's eyes are blazing. He is mute. "Let us trust to +God. Wait, my friend," says PŠre Fran‡ois solemnly. +Before that manly voice, the miner hushes his passionate +eagerness. Violence is vain, here.</p> +<p>It seems to him as if the dead mother of an orphan child had +placed her hand upon his brow and said: "Wait and hope!"</p> +<p>Monte Cristo's motto once more.</p> +<p>The padre eyes the Comstock colonel under his thin lashes.</p> +<p>"My friend"—his voice trembles—"I can tell you +nothing yet, but I will guide you. I will not see you go +wrong."</p> +<p>"Square deal, padre!" roars Joseph, with memories of gigantic +poker deals. Irreverent Joe.</p> +<p>"Square deal," says the priest, solemnly, as he lays an honest +man's hand in that of its peer. He knows the Californian force of +this appeal to honor. Joseph selects several cigars. He fusses +with his neckgear strangely.</p> +<p>"Vamos, amigo," he cries, in tones learned from the muleteers +of the far West.</p> +<p>Once in the halls of "Madame de Santos," Colonel Joe is the +pink of Western elegance. The acute sense of the Missourian lends +him a certain dignity, in spite of his gaudy attire.</p> +<p>Under fire, this Western pilgrim can affect a "sang froid" +worthy of Fontenoy.</p> +<p>Radiant in white clinging "crˆpe de Chine," her +"prononc‚e" beauty unaccentuated by the baubles of the +jeweller, Madame de Santos greets the visitors.</p> +<p>A blue circle under her eyes tells of a vigil of either love +or hate. Speculation is vain. The "monde" has its imperial +secrets.</p> +<p>Who can solve the equation of womanhood? Colonel Joseph is +effusive in his cheery greeting. "My dear madame, I am glad to be +in Paris once more." He would charm this sphinx into life and +warmth. Foolish Joseph.</p> +<p>"We all are charmed to see you safely returned," murmurs the +madame. The padre is studying the art treasures of the +incomparable "Salon de Santos."</p> +<p>"I have some messages from a friend of yours," continues +Joseph, strangely intent upon the narrow rim of his hat.</p> +<p>"Ah, yes! Pray who remembers me so many years?"</p> +<p>Joseph fires out the answer like a charge of canister from a +Napoleon gun: "Philip Hardin."</p> +<p>The lady's lips close. There is a steely look in her eyes. Her +hand seeks her heaving bosom. Is there a dagger there?</p> +<p>"Useless, my lady." There are two men here. The padre is +intent upon a war picture of D‚taille. His eyes catch a +mirror showing the startled woman.</p> +<p>"And—what—did—Mr.—Philip—Hardin +say?" the lady gasps.</p> +<p>"He asked me if you remembered Hortense Duval, the Queen of +the El—" Natalie reels and staggers, as if shot.</p> +<p>"By God, Lee was right!" cries Woods. He catches her falling +form. The first and only time he will ever hold her in his +arms.</p> +<p>"Padre, ring the bell!" cries the excited miner.</p> +<p>The clock ticks away noisily in the hall. The wondering +servants bear madame to her rooms. All is confusion. A fainting +fit.</p> +<p>"Let's get out of here," whispers Woods, frightened by his own +bomb-shell.</p> +<p>"Stay till we get a message of formality," murmurs the +diplomatic padre. "It would look like violence or insult to leave +abruptly. No one here must suspect." Joe nods gloomily and wipes +his brows.</p> +<p>The stately butler soon expresses the regrets of madame. "A +most unforeseen affair, an assault upon one of her discharged +servants, has tried her nerves. Will Colonel Woods kindly excuse +madame, who will send him word when she receives again?"</p> +<p>"Colonel Woods will decidedly excuse madame." He returns to +his hotel. He grieves over the dark shadows cast upon her +suffering loveliness. "By the gods! It's a shame SHE IS WHAT SHE +IS," he murmurs to his cigar. Ah, Joseph! entangled in the nets +of Delilah.</p> +<p>In a few days the spacious apartments of Colonel Woods have +another tenant. Bag and baggage he has quietly departed for the +Pacific Slope. PŠre Fran‡ois runs on to Havre. He +waves an adieu from the "quai." It would not be possible to prove +that Colonel Joe has not gone to Switzerland. That is not the +question, however. But the padre and the colonel are now sworn +allies. Joseph is the bearer of a letter to the Archbishop of +California. It carries the heart and soul of PŠre +Fran‡ois. The great Church acts now.</p> +<p>"My dear old friend," says Woods in parting, "I propose to +keep away from Paris for a couple of years and watch Philip +Hardin's handling of this great estate. Peyton will bring the +girl on, when her coming of age calls for a legal settlement of +the estate. I don't want to strike that woman down until she +braves me.</p> +<p>"I'm going to lure Madame de Santos over to California. If she +wants to watch me, I will be on deck every time there. I'll bring +Peyton and Louise Moreau over to San Francisco. I will never lose +sight of that child. Judge Davis shall now run my whole game. I +don't ask you who killed that woman, padre, but I will bet the de +Santos knows the hand which struck the blow.</p> +<p>"By leaving you, Vimont, to watch her, you may be yet able to +catch our man. We'll let her bring forward the heiress of +Lagunitas, whom she stowed away in the convent. Don't spare the +cash, padre. You can use what you want from my bankers. They will +cable me at once, at your wish. Good-bye." Joe Woods is off. His +mind is bent on a great scheme.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois thinks of the unavenged murder of +the poor maid-servant. She is now sleeping the last sleep in +PŠre la Chaise. Paris has its newer mysteries already, to +chase away her memory—only one more unfortunate.</p> +<p>Joe gets news after his arrival at the Golden Gate. "I will +tell you, my dear friend, that a large sum of money was due to +this woman from Madame de Santos. She was to have it the next +day. I can not see who would kill her to prevent her getting +money from a prosperous mistress. She was making her a final +present on leaving her service. Madame de Santos openly admits +she intended to give her a considerable sum of money. She has +acted with commendable kindness as to her funeral. All is quiet. +The police are baffled." This is the priest's letter.</p> +<p>"I cannot, at present, reveal to you all I learned from the +dying penitent. I need a higher permission. I have given you an +order to receive the original Valois marriage papers, and the +baptismal and birth certificates of Isabel Valois. She is the +only child of Maxime and Dolores Valois. Louise Moreau is the +real heiress, in my opinion, but we must prove it. I shall come +to San Francisco to watch the sequel of the guardianship of the +rightful heiress.</p> +<p>"One person ALONE can now positively swear to this child. I +shall watch that defiant woman, until she goes to +California."</p> +<p>High life in Paris rolls on golden wheels as always. Ernesto +Villa Rocca is a daily visitor at the Santos residence. A change +has been inaugurated by the death of Marie B‚rard.</p> +<p>There is a lovely girl there now, whose beauty shines out even +by the side of Natalie the peerless. The heiress is at home. Not +even to Villa Rocca does Natalie confide herself. The +disappearance of Louise Moreau startles her yet. The sudden death +of Marie brings her certain advantages in her once dangerous +position. She has no fear to boldly withdraw the blooming Isabel +Valois, so called, from the "Sacre Coeur," now she has learned +that the legal control of the child can only be taken from her by +Hardin himself. He will never dare to use open force as regards +her. No! fear will restrain him. The dark bond of the past +prevents.</p> +<p>But by fraud or artifice, yes! To defeat any possible scheme, +she surrounds the young girl with every elegance of instruction +and accomplishment. She watches her like a tigress guarding its +young, But by her side, in her own home, the young "claimant" +will be surely safe. Hardin fears any public denouncement of his +schemes. Open scandal is worse than secret crime, in the high +circles he adorns.</p> +<p>Count Ernesto Villa Rocca does not plead immediately for +madame's hand. Wise Italian. "Chi va piano va sano." Since the +fateful evening when he promised to do a certain deed of blood +for Natalie, his ardor has chilled a little. "Particeps +criminis." He revolves the whole situation. With cool Italian +astuteness, he will wait a few months, before linking himself to +the rich lady whose confidential maid was so mysteriously +murdered. There has been no hesitation, on his part, to accept a +large sum of money from Natalie. Besides, his eye rests with +burning admiration on the young girlish beauty. Her loveliness +has the added charms of untold millions, in her future fortune. A +prize. Does he dare? Ernesto Villa Rocca cannot fathom the +mysterious connection between the guardian siren and her charge. +Would he be safe to depend upon Madame de Santos' fortune? He +knows not. Has not the young girl a greater value in his +eyes?</p> +<p>Seated in the boudoir of Natalie, with bated breath, Villa +Rocca has told Natalie what he expects as a reward for freeing +her from Marie.</p> +<p>Natalie hails the expiration of the minority of the "daughter +of the Dons." The millions will now fall under her own control. +Power!—social power! concrete power!</p> +<p>The most urgent appeals to her from Hardin cannot make her +leave France. Hardin storms. He threatens. He implores. He cannot +leave California and go to France himself. The wily wretch knows +that Natalie THERE will have a local advantage over him. Month +after month glides away. Swordplay only. Villa Rocca, dallying +with Natalie, gloats over the beauties of the ward.</p> +<p>Armand Valois, by invitation of Colonel Peyton, has decided to +spend a year or so in Switzerland and Germany, painting and +sketching. Louise Moreau soons becomes a proficient amateur +artist. She wanders on the lovely shores of the lake, with the +gifted young American. Love weaves its golden web. Joined heart +and soul, these children of fortune whisper their love by the +throbbing bosom of the lake.</p> +<p>It is with the rare genius of her sly nature, a happy thought, +that Madame de Santos requests the chivalric Raoul Dauvray to +instruct her own ward in modelling and sketching. It will keep +her mind busy, and content the spirited girl. She must save her +from Villa Rocca. Dauvray is also a painter of no mean talent. A +studio is soon arranged. The merry girl, happy at her release +from convent walls, spends pleasant hours with the ex-Zouave. +Drifting, drifting daily down happy hours to the knowledge of +their own ardent feelings.</p> +<p>Natalie absolutely debars all other visitors from meeting her +young ward. Only her physician and PŠre Fran‡ois +can watch these studio labors. She fears Hardin's emissaries +only.</p> +<p>Many visits to the studio are made by Villa Rocca. He is a +lover of the "beaux-arts."</p> +<p>The days fly by pleasantly. Natalie is playing a cool game +now. PŠre Fran‡ois and Raoul Dauvray are ever in +her charmed circle. She dare not refuse the friendship of the +inscrutable priest. She watches, cat-like, for some sign or token +of the absent Louise Moreau. Nothing. Colonel Joseph's sagacity +has arranged all communication from the Swiss lakes, through his +trusted banker. It is a blind trail.</p> +<p>Vimont, eying Natalie and Villa Rocca keenly, reports that he +cannot fathom their relations. Guilty lovers? No. There is no +obstacle at all to their marriage. Then why not a consummation? +"Accomplices?" "In what crime?" "Surely none!" The count is of +station undoubted. A member of the Jockey Club. Natalie de Santos +speaks frankly to PŠre Fran‡ois of her obligations +to the dead woman. That mysterious assailant still defies the +famed police of Paris.</p> +<p>Yet around Madame de Santos a web of intrigue is woven, which +even her own keen eyes do not ferret out.</p> +<p>Strange woman-heart. Lonely and defiant, yet blind, she thinks +she guards her control of the budding heiress, "Isabel Valois." +Waiting?</p> +<p>In the studio, handsome Raoul Dauvray bends glowing eyes on +the clay which models the classic beauty of Isabel Valois. The +sabre scar on his bronzed face burns red as he directs the +changes of his lovely model. Neither a Phryne nor an Aphrodite, +but "the Unawakened Venus."</p> +<p>A dreamy light flickers in her eyes, as she meets the burning +gaze of an artist lover.</p> +<p>Fighting hard against the current, the heiress of millions +affects not to understand.</p> +<p>It is "Monsieur Raoul," "Mademoiselle Isabel;" and all the +while, their hearts beat in unison.</p> +<p>Raoul, soldier-artist, Frenchman, and lover, dissembles when +Villa Rocca is present. There is a strange constraint in the +girl's dark eyes, as her idle hands cross themselves, in +unconscious pose, when they are alone.</p> +<p>"Lift your eyes a little, mademoiselle. Look steadily at me," +is his gentle request. He can hear the clock tick as if its beat +was the fail of a trip hammer.</p> +<p>When even his fastidious task can no longer delay, he says, as +the afternoon sun gilds the dome of the Invalides, throwing down +his graver, "Je n'en puis plus, mademoiselle. It is finished. I +will release you now."</p> +<p>As Raoul throws the cloth over the clay model, Isabel passes +him with a gasp, and gazes with set face from the window.</p> +<p>His bursting heart holds him back. There is no longer an +excuse.</p> +<p>"And I shall see you no more, Monsieur Raoul?" the heiress of +millions softly says.</p> +<p>"Not till this is in marble, mademoiselle. A poor artist does +not mingle in your own gay world."</p> +<p>"But a soldier of France is welcome everywhere," the girl +falters.</p> +<p>A mist rises to Raoul's eyes. He bears the cross of the Legion +of Honor on his breast. The perfume from her hair is blown across +his face. "Les violettes de Parme." The artist sinks in the +soldier.</p> +<p>Springing to the window, the girl's assenting hand, cold as +ice, is clasped in his palm.</p> +<p>"Isabel!" he cries. She trembles like a leaf. "May the soldier +ask what the artist would not dare?" He is blind with +passion.</p> +<p>The lovely dark-eyed girl turns a splendid face upon him, her +eyes filled with happy tears, and cries:</p> +<p>"Captain, you saved my life!"</p> +<p>The noisy clock ticks away; the only sound beside its clang is +the beating hearts which close in love's first embrace, when the +soldier knows he has won the heart of the Pearl of Paris.</p> +<p>"Your rank, your millions, your guardian! The Count Villa +Rocca, my enemy!" he hoarsely whispers.</p> +<p>The clinging beauty hands him the ribbon from her throat.</p> +<p>"Claim me with this!" she cries as his arms enfold her.</p> +<p>The dream of young love; first love; true love.</p> +<p>Every obstacle fades away: Lagunitas' millions; proud +guardian; scheming duenna; watchful Villa Rocca. The world is +naught to the two whose arms bind the universe in love's golden +circle,</p> +<p>Raoul murmurs to the glowing maiden in his arms:</p> +<p>"And can you trust me?"</p> +<p>The splendid beauty clasps him closer, whispering softly:</p> +<p>"A Spanish girl loves once and to the death."</p> +<p>"But, darling," she falters, as her arms cling closer, "we +must wait and hope!"</p> +<p>A letter from Philip Hardin arrives, in the gayest midwinter +of a rejuvenated Paris. The time for decisive action has arrived. +Natalie revolves every clause of Hardin's proposition in her +mind.</p> +<p>In less than a year the now blooming Isabel will be eighteen +years of age. The accounting—</p> +<p>Hardin is trying now to cut the legal Gordian knot. His letter +reads as follows:</p> +<p>I have determined to make you a proposition which should close +all our affairs. It should leave no cause for complaint. I need +Isabel Valois here, You will not trust yourself in America with +our past relations unsettled. I shall not force you, but I must +do my duty as guardian.</p> +<p>You are worthy of a settlement. No one knows you here now. +Marry Villa Rocca. Come here with Isabel. I will give you jointly +a fortune which will content you. I will settle upon your child +the sum of one hundred thousand dollars, to be paid over to her +use when of age. If you marry Villa Rocca now, I will give him +the drafts for the child's money. If you decide to marry him, you +may ask him to visit me here, as your agent. I will show him +where your own property is located, to the extent of half a +million dollars. This is to be turned over to you and him +jointly, when you are man and wife. This will satisfy his honor +and his rank. Otherwise, I shall soon cease my remittances. You +may not be willing to do as I wish, but the heiress must be +returned to me, or you and your child will remain without +means.</p> +<p>Your marriage will be my safeguard and your own establishment. +Tell Villa Rocca any story of your life; I will confirm and prove +it. I shall name my bankers as trustee to join with any person +you name for your child. The principal to be paid over to her on +her marriage, to her own order. She can take any name you choose, +except mine. If this is satisfactory, cable to me, "Accepted; +agent coming." Send a letter by your agent, with a private +duplicate to me, with your wishes. HARDIN.</p> +<p>Natalie stands face to face with a life's decision. Can she +trust Villa Rocca? By the dark bond of crime between them she +must. A poor bond of crime. And the millions of Lagunitas. To +yield them up. A terrible temptation.</p> +<p>In her boudoir, Villa Rocca sums up with lightning flashes, +the merits of this proposition. It is partly unfolded to him by +the woman, who holds his pledge to marry her. "She must settle +her affairs." It is a good excuse. He smiles, as he says:</p> +<p>"Madonna mia, in whose name will this property be placed, if I +make you Countess Villa Rocca?"</p> +<p>"In our joint names, with benefit to the survivor," she +replies.</p> +<p>"If arranged in even sums on each of us, with a reversion to +me, if you die childless, I will accept. I will go to California, +and bring the deposit for the missing child. I can make every +arrangement for your lawyer. We can go over together and marry +there, when you restore the heiress next year to her guardian." A +bargain, a compact, and a bond of safety. It suits both.</p> +<p>The lady despatches to Hardin her acceptance of his proposal. +In preparing a letter to the Judge she gives her "fianc‚" +every instruction. She permits him to mail the duplicate, +carefully compared.</p> +<p>In a week, Count Ernesto is tossing on the billows of the +Atlantic. He is a fashionable Columbus. He is sufficiently warned +to be on his guard in conversation with the wily Hardin. Natalie +is far-seeing.</p> +<p>Villa Rocca laughed as he embraced his future bride. "Trust an +Italian, in finesse, cara mia."</p> +<p>It is arranged between the two that Hardin is to have no hint +of the character, appearance, or whereabouts of the child who +receives the bounty. The letter bears the name of "Irene Duval" +as the beneficiary of the fund. A system of correspondence is +devised between them. Villa Rocca, using his Italian consul at +San Francisco as a depositary, will be sure to obtain his +letters. He will write to a discreet friend in Paris. Perhaps a +spy on herself, Natalie muses.</p> +<p>Still she must walk hand in hand with Villa Rocca, a new +sharer of her secret. But HE dare not talk.</p> +<p>When these two have said their last adieux, when Natalie sums +up her lonely thoughts, she feels, with a shudder for the future, +that not a shade of tenderness clings around this coming +marriage. Mutual passion has dissipated itself. There is a +self-consciousness of meeting eyes which tells of that dark work +under the gloomy buttresses of Notre Dame. Murder—a heavy +burden!</p> +<p>Can they trust each other? They MUST. The weary secret of +unpunished crime grows heavier, day by day. In losing a tyrant, +in the maid, will she not gain a colder master in the man she +marries? Who knows?</p> +<p>Natalie Santos realizes that she has no legal proof whose hand +struck that fatal blow. But Villa Rocca can expose her to Hardin. +A fatal weakness. The anxious woman realizes what her false +position and idle luxury cost in heartache. It is life!</p> +<p>The roses turn to ashes on her cheeks as she paces her lonely +rooms. Restless and weary in the Bois, she is even more dull and +"distraite" in society. The repression of her secret, the daily +presence of the daughter she dares not own, all weary her heart +and soul. She feels that her power over Hardin will be gone +forever when the heiress enters upon her rights. Has the child +learned to love another? Her life is barren, a burning waste.</p> +<p>Money, with its myriad luxuries, must be gained by the +marriage with Villa Rocca. To see her child inherit an honored +name, and in possession of millions, will be revenge enough upon +Philip Hardin. He never shall know the truth while he lives. Once +recognized, Isabel Valois cannot be defeated in her fortune. +Marie is dead. The only one who might wish to prove the change of +the two children, Hardin himself, knows not. He must take her +word. She is invincible.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois becomes a greater comfort to her +daily. The graceful priest brings with him an air of peace into +the gaudy palace on the Elys‚es. She softens daily.</p> +<p>Raoul Dauvray has finished the artistic labors of his +commissions. He is now only an occasional visitor. If he has the +love of the heiress he dares not claim her yet. The fiery Zouave +chafes in vain. Natalie holds him off. PŠre +Fran‡ois whispers, "Wait and hope!"</p> +<p>With the blindness of preoccupation, Natalie sees not how the +tendrils of "first love" have filled the girl's heart. The young +soldier-artist rules that gentle bosom. Love finds its ways of +commune. Marriage seems impossible for years. Isabel must mount +her "golden throne" before suitors can come to woo. A sculptor! +The idea is absurd.</p> +<p>Not a single trace is left of "Louise Moreau." Natalie's lip +curls as she fathoms the motive of the girl's disappearance. +Friends of Marie B‚rard's have probably secreted her, as a +part of the old scheme of blackmail upon her. Did the secret die +with her? It is fight now. She muses: "Now they may keep her. The +seal of the grave is on the only lips which could tell the story +of Lagunitas." Villa Rocca even, does not know who the child was! +His evidence would be valueless.</p> +<p>If—yes, if the Dauvray household should seek to fathom +the history of the waif, how like an everyday history is the +story in reply:</p> +<p>"Marie B‚rard wished to disembarrass herself of her +fatherless child. She yet wished to hold some claim on the future +in its behalf. That explains Louise Moreau's motives." There is a +high wall of defence around her whole position. Her own child +dead; but where, or how? She must invent. Walls have been scaled, +my Lady of the Castle Dangerous. The enemy is mining under your +defences, in silence.</p> +<p>With Villa Rocca's nerve and Italian finesse, even Hardin can +be managed. If HE should die, then the dark secret of her child's +transformation is safe forever!</p> +<p>Days fly by. Time waits for no aching hearts. There is a smile +of satisfaction on the lovely face of Natalie. She peruses the +letters from Hardin and the count. They announce the arrangement +of the dower for the absent "Irene Duval." Villa Rocca is in San +Francisco. The count forwards one set of the drafts, without +comments. He only says he will bring the seconds, and thirds of +exchange himself, He is going to come "home."</p> +<p>He announces his departure to the interior with Judge Hardin. +He wishes to see the properties and interests held for Madame de +Santos by her lawyer.</p> +<p>In a month he will be on his homeward way; Judge Hardin has +loyally played his part. Villa Rocca's letters prove his respect +for a bride who brings him a half million. The letters warm +visibly. Even an Italian count can be impressed by solid wealth. +Natalie de Santos's lips curl in derision of man. Her clouded +history is now safe. Yes, the golden glitter of her ill-gotten +fortune will cover all inquiry as to the late "Se¤or de +Santos," of shadowy memory. She IS safe!</p> +<p>It is only a fair exchange of courtesy. She has not +investigated the family stories of the noble Villa Rocca.</p> +<p>Cool, suave, polished; accepted at the clubs as a man of the +world; an adept with rapier and pistol; Ernesto Villa Rocca bears +his social coronet as bravely as the premier duke of +France—always on guard!</p> +<p>"Does she love this man?" Natalie looks in her glass. From +girlhood she has been hunted for her beauty. Now a fortune, +title, and the oblivion of years will aid her in reigning as a +mature queen. A "mondaine" with no entanglements. Paradise +opens.</p> +<p>Liberal in works of charity, the adventuress can glide easily +into religion. Once her feet firmly planted, she will "assume +that virtue, if she have it not."</p> +<p>"And then—and after all!" The last tableau before the +curtain falls. The pall of sable velvet. Natalie shudders. She +remakes her toilet and drives to the opera.</p> +<p>"After all, social life is but a play." Her heart beats high +with pride. Villa Rocca's return with the funds will be only a +prelude to their union. But how to insure the half million? +"How?"</p> +<p>The count's greed and entire union in interest with her will +surely hold him faithful,</p> +<p>She will marry Ernesto as soon as he returns. She can trust +him with the heiress until the property is settled on the married +lovers.</p> +<p>Hardin, when Jules Tessier's addled brains are restored by +careful nursing, receives a document from Leroyne & Co., +which rouses his inmost soul.</p> +<p>Jules Tessier, handsome brute, chafes under the loss of the +double blackmail. "Two hundred thousand francs," and his +Marie.</p> +<p>To add to his anguish, he knows not where or under what name, +Marie has deposited her own golden hoard. The "Hotel Tessier" has +gone to Cloudland with the other "chateaux en Espagne"—the +two payments are lost! Jules rages at knowing that even the +savings of murdered Marie are lost to him. Even if found, they +cannot be his by law. The ruffians who robbed him of everything, +have left no trace.</p> +<p>The two weeks passed tossing on a hospital bed, have been lost +to the police. Dimly Jules remembers the sudden assault. Crashing +blows raining down upon him! Not a scrap of paper is left. The +fatal letter to Leroyne & Co. is gone.</p> +<p>The police question the artful Jules.</p> +<p>He holds the secret of Leroyne & Co. to himself.</p> +<p>He may yet get a handsome bribe to tell even the meagre facts +he knows. Marie B‚rard's case is one of the reigning +sensations. Her lips are now sealed in death.</p> +<p>The baffled police only see in the visit to the "bal de +minuit," a bourgeois intrigue of ordinary character.</p> +<p>Jules dares not tell all. He fears the stern French law. +Tossing on his bed of pain, his only course is to secretly visit +Leroyne & Co.</p> +<p>The bereaved lover feels that the parties who followed him, +were directed by some malign agency which is fraught with future +danger for him.</p> +<p>The poniard of darkness may reach his heart, if he betrays his +designs.</p> +<p>Strongly suspecting Natalie de Santos, yet he knows her +revenge struck through meaner hands than her own.</p> +<p>He has no proof. Not a clue. Villa Rocca is to him unknown. He +fears to talk.</p> +<p>He hobbles forth to his vocation, and dares not even visit +Marie's grave.</p> +<p>Spies may track him as on that fatal night. And even Leroyne's +bank may be watched.</p> +<p>He must take this risk, for his only reward lies in that +mysterious address.</p> +<p>Jules, in workman's blouse, spends an hour with the +grave-faced banker of the Rue Vivienne.</p> +<p>When he emerges, he has ten one-thousand-franc notes in his +waist-lining and the promise of more.</p> +<p>The banker knows the whole story of Jules' broken hopes; of +the promised reward; the double crime.</p> +<p>He directs Jules Tessier to further await orders at the +caf‚, and to ignore the whole affair.</p> +<p>A significant hint about going forth at night makes Jules +shudder. And the cipher cablegram gives Hardin the disjointed +facts of Marie's death! His one ally gone. Her lips sealed +forever.</p> +<p>Musing in his library, Hardin's clear head unravels this +intrigue. The Paris police know not the past history of the +actors in this drama. Jules is simply greedy and thick-headed. +Leroyne & Co. are passionless bankers.</p> +<p>But Hardin gathers up the knotted threads and unravels +all.</p> +<p>Accustomed to weigh evidence, to sift facts, his clear mind +indicates Natalie de Santos as the brain, Villa Rocca as the +striking assassin of this plot.</p> +<p>It is all aimed at him.</p> +<p>"Ah, yes!" the chafing lawyer muses, as he walks the legal +quarter-deck of his superb library. "Villa Rocca and Natalie are +lovers. The girl tried to blackmail them. She was trapped and put +out of the way.</p> +<p>"Marie B‚rard dead—one dangerous ally gone. Villa +Rocca and Natalie are the only two who know all. Her mind is his +now.</p> +<p>"Ah, I have it!" with a devilish sneer. "I will separate these +two billing and cooing lovers. If I get Villa Rocca here, he will +never get back to France.</p> +<p>"When he is out of the way, Natalie can prove nothing.</p> +<p>"If she comes here I will treat her story as that of an insane +woman."</p> +<p>Hardin draws a glass with shaking hand.</p> +<p>"Yes; a private asylum."</p> +<p>As for the heiress, there are plans in his mind he dare not +whisper.</p> +<p>Illegitimacy and other reasons may bar her rights. The heiress +knows nothing and she has not a paper.</p> +<p>Some outsider must fight this case.</p> +<p>In Hardin's dreams he sees his enemies at his feet. On Ernesto +Villa Rocca's handsome face is the pallor of death. Lagunitas and +its millions are his by right of power and cunning.</p> +<p>Marie B‚rard's avenger is thousands of miles away from +her grave, and his cunning plan already woven to ensnare the +Italian when off his guard. Yet Hardin's blood boils to feel that +"the secret for a price" is buried in Marie B‚rard's grave. +Toss as he may, his dreams do not discover the lost secret. Even +Philip Hardin may meet a Nemesis.</p> +<p>Villa Rocca, slain by a well-contrived accident, died for a +secret he knew not.</p> +<p>His own hand slew the woman who knew alone of the changelings, +save the bright and defiant ex-queen of the El Dorado.</p> +<p>Dark memories hover around some of the great mines of the +Pacific. Giant stock operations resulted from a seeming +accidental fire. A mine filled with water by mysterious breakage +of huge pumps. Hoisting machinery suddenly unmanageable; dashing +to their doom unsuspecting wretches. Imprisoned miners, walled up +in rich drifts, have died under stifling smoke, so that their +secrets would die with them.</p> +<p>Grinning Molochs of finance have turned markets on these +ghastly tricks.</p> +<p>Madame de Santos may never suspect how a steel spike adroitly +set could cut a rope and dash even a noble Villa Rocca to his +doom, carrying down innocent men as a mask to the crime.</p> +<p>In the clear sky of Natalie's complacency, a lightning stroke +of the gods brings her palace of delight crashing down around +her. Nemesis!</p> +<p>The telegraph flashes across the prairies, far beneath the +Atlantic; the news of Villa Rocca's death arrives. Hardin's cable +is brief. It is all-sufficient. Her trembling limbs give way. She +reads:</p> +<h3>SAN FRANCISCO.</h3> +<p>Count Ernesto killed while visiting a mine, with friends. +Accident of hoisting machinery. I was not there. Leave to-night +for the place. Telegraph your wishes. Remain. Wait my reports. +Write fully in a few days.</p> +<h3>HARDIN.</h3> +<p>She is all alone on earth. This is a crushing blow. No one to +trust. None to advise, for she has leaned on Ernesto. Her mind +reels under this blow. PŠre Fran‡ois is her only +stay. The sorrow of these days needs expression.</p> +<p>Villa Rocca's gay letters continue to arrive. They are a +ghastly mockery of these hours. Hardin can cast her off now, and +claim the heiress.</p> +<p>Hardin's full account dispels any suspicion of foul play. +After a visit to the interior, the count went to see some +interesting underground workings. By a hazard of mining life, a +broken rope caused the death of the visitor, with several +workmen, and a mine superintendent who was doing the honors. +Death waited at the foot of the shaft for the noble stranger.</p> +<p>Hundreds of days, on thousands of trips like this, the princes +of the Comstock have risked their own lives in the perils of the +yawning pits. These dark holes blown out of the mountain rocks +have their fearful death-rolls to show.</p> +<p>It is the revenge of the gnomes. Every detail points to a +frank explanation. Journals and reports, with letters from the +Italian consul, lifted the sad tragedy above any chance of crime +or collusion. It is kismet.</p> +<p>Hardin's letter was manly. In it, he pledged his honor to +carry out the agreement, advising Natalie to select a friend to +accompany her to California with the heiress, as soon as she +could travel. His banker had orders to supply funds.</p> +<p>"I suggest, in view of this untimely accident, you would +sooner have your funds settled on you in Europe. It shall be as +you wish. You may rely on me," so ran the closing lines.</p> +<p>The parted strands of the hoisting cable cannot reveal whether +it was cut or weakened, yet Hardin knows. It was his devilish +masterpiece.</p> +<p>Days of sadness drag down the self-reliant adventuress. Whom +can she trust now? Dare she confide in PŠre +Fran‡ois?</p> +<p>A simple envelope addressed in a scrawling hand, and +postmarked San Francisco, drives all sorrow from her heart. The +tiger is loosened in her nature. She rages madly. A newspaper +slip contains the following, in flaming prominence:</p> +<h3>"THE UNITED STATES SENATE.</h3> +<p>"The choice of the Legislature for U. S. Senator will +undoubtedly fall upon that distinguished jurist Judge Hardin, who +is now supported by the railroad kings and leading financiers of +the coast.</p> +<p>"It is rumored that Judge Hardin will, in the event of his +election, contract a matrimonial alliance with one of our leaders +of society. His bride will entertain extensively in the national +capital."</p> +<p>A paper bears pithy advice:</p> +<p>"Come out and strike for your rights. You will find a friend +to back you up. Don't delay."</p> +<p>Natalie recognizes Joe Woods in this. He is the only man +knowing half the secret. Tossing on her pillow, the Queen of the +El Dorado suffers the tortures of the Inferno. Now is the time to +strike Hardin. Before the great senatorial contest. Before this +cruel marriage. She will boldly claim a secret marriage. The +funds now in the Paris bank are safe. She can blast his career. +If she does not take the heiress out, her chances vanish. And +once there, what will not Hardin do? What is Woods' motive? +Jealousy. Revenge. Hatred.</p> +<p>Ah, the priest! She will unbosom herself to PŠre +Fran‡ois. She will urge him to accompany her and the girl +to San Franciso. He will be a "background." And his unrivalled +calmness and wisdom. PŠre Fran‡ois only knows her +as the "‚l‚gante" of the Champs Elys‚es. She +feels that Woods has been wisely discreet.</p> +<p>Summoning the ecclesiastic, Madame de Santos tells the story +of her claims upon Hardin.</p> +<p>The old Frenchman passes his rosary beads, with a clinking +sound, as he listens to the half-truths told him.</p> +<p>"And your child?" he queries.</p> +<p>"I have placed her secretly where Hardin cannot reach her. She +will be produced if needed."</p> +<p>There is a peculiar smile in the priest's face. "Madame, I +will accompany you on one condition."</p> +<p>"Name it," cries the siren, "I will furnish money, and every +comfort for you. It shall be my duty to reward you."</p> +<p>The priest bows gravely.</p> +<p>"I wish to have a resolute man with our party. My young +friend, Raoul Dauvray, has a lion's courage. Let him go with us. +I do not wish Judge Hardin to know of my presence in San +Francisco. Dauvray will guard you with his life."</p> +<p>"I agree to your wishes!" says madame thoughtfully. And loyal +Raoul will fight for her and his hoped-for bride. In a month +there is a notable departure from Paris. Madame de Santos, +Mademoiselle Isabel Valois, with their maids, and Raoul, "en +cavalier." On the same steamer, PŠre Fran‡ois +travels. He affects no intimacy with the distinguished voyagers. +His breviary takes up all his time. Arrived at New York, +PŠre Fran‡ois leaves for San Francisco several days +in advance of the others.</p> +<p>It is singular that he goes no farther than Sacramento. The +legislature is about to assemble. Joseph Woods, as State senator, +is launched in political life. The robust miner laughs when he is +asked why he accepts these cheap honors.</p> +<p>"I'm not too old to learn some new tricks," he cheerfully +remarks. His questions soon exhaust PŠre Fran‡ois' +stock of answers.</p> +<p>A day's conference between the friends leads to a series of +Napoleon-like mandates of the mining Croesus. Telegraph and cable +bear abroad to the shores of the Lake of Geneva the summons which +brings Peyton, with Armand Valois and the lovely blooming "Louise +Moreau," secretly to the Pacific. Natalie knows nothing of these +pilgrims. Quietly reaching San Francisco, by a local train, +PŠre Fran‡ois becomes again Padre Francisco. He +rests his weary head under the hallowing sounds of the +well-remembered bells of the past at the Mission Dolores.</p> +<p>Natalie de Santos rubs her eyes in wonder at the queen city of +the West, with its conquered hills and vanished sand-dunes. +Whirled away to a secure quiet retreat in a convent, selected by +PŠre Fran‡ois, the heiress and her young guardian +are safe from even Hardin's wiles.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois at New York has conferred a day +with Judge Davis, and bids his new charge be calm and trust to +his own advice. Isabel Valois is in a maze of new impressions, +and bewildered by a strange language.</p> +<p>Bravely attired, and of a generous port, Raoul Dauvray +installs himself in one of the palatial hotels which are the +pride of the occidental city. Colonel Joseph Woods is +conspicuously absent.</p> +<p>When the fatigue of travel is over, Natalie de Santos quietly +summons Philip Hardin to the interview she dreads. She has been +prepared by PŠre Fran‡ois for this ordeal. Yet her +tiger blood leaps up in bubbling floods. She will at last face +the would-be traitor, and upbraid him. Oh, for one resolute +friend!</p> +<p>It is in another convent that lovely "Isabel Valois" is +concealed. The heiress longs to burst her bonds. Is not Raoul +near her? Assured of a necessity for patience, the wayward beauty +bides her time. Every day the roses she caresses, whisper to her +of the ardent lover who sighs near her in vain.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin steels himself to face the woman he intends to +trick and deceive at the very last. There are such things as +insane asylums in California, if she makes any hubbub.</p> +<p>But he has a "coup d'‚tat" in his mind. The old schemer +will bring Natalie to terms. Flattery first; fear afterwards.</p> +<p>"And they are face to face once more."</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX. — LOVERS ONCE.—STRANGERS +NOW.—FACE TO FACE.</h2> +<p>Ushered into a private room, the soulless Hardin's iron nerves +fail him. His heart leaps up wildly when royal "Madame de Santos" +approaches silently. Heavens! Her startling beauty is only +mellowed with time. Another woman than the Hortense Duval of old +stands before him. A goddess.</p> +<p>She has grown into her new r“le in life.</p> +<p>"Hortense!" he eagerly cries, approaching her.</p> +<p>"Spare me any further deceit, Philip," she coldly replies. +Seating herself, she gazes at him with flaming eyes! She is a +queen at bay!</p> +<p>He is startled. A declaration of war. No easy mastery now.</p> +<p>"Where is your charge?" Hardin queries.</p> +<p>"Where you will not see her, until we understand each other," +rejoins the determined woman. Her steady glance pierces his very +soul. Memories of old days thrill his bosom.</p> +<p>"What do you mean by all this?" Hardin's nerve returns. He +must not yield to mortal.</p> +<p>The woman who queened it over his home, extends a jewelled +hand with an envelop. "Explain this," she sharply cries.</p> +<p>The Judge reads it. It is the announcement of his double +senatorial and matrimonial campaign.</p> +<p>"Is there any foundation for that report?" Madame de Santos +deliberately asks.</p> +<p>"There is," briefly rejoins the lawyer. He muses a moment. +What devil is awakened in her now? This is no old-time pleading +suppliant.</p> +<p>"Then you will not see Isabel until you have settled with me +and provided the funds promised before the death of the +count."</p> +<p>"Ah!" sneers the old advocate; "I understand you NOW, madame. +Blood money!"</p> +<p>"Partly," remarks Madame de Santos. "I also insist upon your +giving up this marriage."</p> +<p>Hardin springs from his chair. Age has robbed him of none of +his cold defiance. He will crush her.</p> +<p>"You dare to dream of forcing me to marry you?" His eyes have +the glitter of steel.</p> +<p>"You need not give up the senate, but you must marry me, +privately, and give your own child a name. Then I will leave, +with the funds you will provide. You can separate from me +afterward by the mere lapse of time. There will be no publicity +needed."</p> +<p>"Indeed!" Hardin snarls, "A nice programme, You have had some +meddling fool advise you; some later confidant; some +protector."</p> +<p>"Exactly so, Judge," replies the woman, her bosom heaving in +scorn and defiance. "We have lived together. We are privately +married now by law! Philip, you know the nameless girl you have +never asked for is your own child."</p> +<p>Hardin paces the floor in white rage. He gazes sternly in her +eyes. She regards his excited movements, glaring with defiant +eyes. A tigress at bay.</p> +<p>"I will end this here, madame! In two weeks Isabel Valois will +be eighteen. If she is not forthcoming I will invoke the law. If +I am forced to fight you, you will not have a cent from me. I +will never marry you! I decline to provide for you or yours, +unless you yield this girl up. You must leave the country before +the senatorial election. That is my will."</p> +<p>Natalie faces her old lover. Tyrant of her heart once, he is +now a malignant foe!</p> +<p>"Philip Hardin," she pleads, "look out of that window. You can +see the house my child was born in—YOUR home, OUR home! +Philip, give that child a name; I will leave you in peace +forever!" There is the old music in her velvet voice.</p> +<p>"Never!" cries the Judge. "Give up the girl you took away. +Leave at once. I will secure your fortune. You cannot force me. +You never could. You cannot now!" He glares defiance to the +death.</p> +<p>His eyes tell the truth. He will not yield,</p> +<p>"Then God help you, Philip," the woman solemnly says. "You +will never reach the Senate! You will never live to marry another +woman!"</p> +<p>"Do you threaten me, you she-devil?" snarls Hardin, alarmed at +the settled, resolute face. "I have a little piece of news for +you which will block your game, my lady. There is no proof of the +legitimacy of the child, Isabel Valois. A claim has already been +filed by a distant Mexican relative of the Peraltas. The suit +will come up soon. If the girl is declared illegitimate, you can +take her back to France, and keep her as a beggar. You are in my +hands!" He chuckles softly.</p> +<p>"Philip Hardin, you are a liar and a monster. This is your +conspiracy. Now, show yourself a thief, also." Natalie retorts. +The words cut the proud man like a lash.</p> +<p>He seizes her jewelled wrist. He is beside himself.</p> +<p>"Beware," she hisses. "By the God who made me, I'll strike you +dead."</p> +<p>He recoils.</p> +<p>She is once more the queen of the El Dorado. Her ready knife +is flashing before his eyes. "You have a fearful reckoning to +answer. You will meet your match yet at the game of Life!" she +cries.</p> +<p>But, Natalie de Santos is stunned by his devilish plot to rob +the despoiled orphan even of her name. He reads her face. "I will +give you a day to think this over. I will come to-morrow." +Hardin's voice rings with ill-concealed triumph.</p> +<p>"Not ten minutes will you give me. I tell you now I will crush +you in your hour of victory, if I die to do it. Once more, will +you marry me and give your child a name?" She rises and paces +room, a beautiful fury.</p> +<p>"You have your answer," he coldly replies.</p> +<p>"Then, may the plundered orphan's curse drag you down to the +hell you merit," is Natalie's last word as she walks swiftly out +of the door. She is gone.</p> +<p>He is alone. Somethings rings with dull foreboding in his ears +as his carriage rolls away. An orphan's curse! A cold clammy +feeling gnaws at his heart. An orphan's curse!</p> +<p>Ah! from the tomb of buried years the millionaire hears the +voice of Maxime Valois and shudders:</p> +<p>"May God deal with you as you deal with my child."</p> +<p>At home, in his library, where the silken rustling of that +woman's dress has thrilled him in bygone years, the old Judge +drinks a glass of cognac and slowly recovers his mental +balance.</p> +<p>Through smoke-clouds he sees the marble chamber of the Senate +of the Great Republic. He must move on to the marriage, he has +deferred until the election. It is a pledge of twenty votes in +joint ballot.</p> +<p>As for the girl Isabel, why, there is no human power to prove +her legitimacy now. That priest. Bah! Dead years ago. Silence has +rolled the stone over his tomb.</p> +<p>Hardin has foreseen for years this quarrel with Natalie de +Santos. But she can prove absolutely nothing. He will face her +boldly. She is ALONE in the world. He can tear the veil aside and +blacken her name.</p> +<p>And yet, as evening falls, his spirit sinks within him. He can +not, will not, marry the woman who has defied him. What devil, +what unseen enemy put her on his track again? If he had never +trusted her. Ah, too late; too late!</p> +<p>Secretly he had laid his well-devised mines. The judge in +Mariposa is weighted down with a golden bribe. The court +officials are under his orders. But who is the unknown foe +counselling Natalie? He cannot fathom it. Blackmail! Yes, +blackmail.</p> +<p>In three days Hardin is at Sacramento. His satellites draw up +their cohorts for the senatorial struggle. If the legislature +names him senator, then his guardianship will be quickly settled +before the Mariposa Court. There, the contest will be +inaugurated, which will declare Isabel Valois a nameless child of +poverty. This is the last golden lock to the millions of +Lagunitas, The poor puppet he has set up to play the contestant +is under his control. He had wished to see Natalie homeward bound +before this denouement. It must be. He muses. Kill her! Ah, no; +too dangerous. He must FOIL her.</p> +<p>But her mad rage at his coming marriage. Well, he knew the +ambitious and stately lady who aspired to share his honors would +condone the story of his early "bonnes fortunes." What could +lonely Natalie do at the trial? Nothing. He has the Court in his +pocket. He will brave her rage.</p> +<p>Hardin writes a final note, warning the woman he fears, to +attend with the heiress on the day of the calling for his +accounting.</p> +<p>Marvels never cease. He tears open the answer, after two +sleepless nights. She simply replies that the young Lady of +Lagunitas will be delivered to him on the appointed day. He +cannot read this riddle. Is it a surrender in hopes of golden +terms? He knows not of PŠre Fran‡ois' advice.</p> +<p>He smiles in complacent glee. He has broken many a weak +woman's nerve: she is only one more.</p> +<p>While he ponders, waiting that reply, Natalie Santos, with +heavy heart, tells the priest the story of her tryst with her old +lover.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois smiles thoughtfully. He answers: +"Be calm. You will be protected. Trust to me. I will confer with +our advisers. Not a word to Isabel of impending trouble."</p> +<p>The little court-house at Mariposa is not large enough for the +crowd which pours in to see the Lady of Lagunitas when the fated +day approaches. It is the largest estate in the country. A number +of strangers have arrived. They are targets for wild rumors. +Several grave-looking arrivals are evidently advocates. There is +"law" in their very eyebrows.</p> +<p>Raoul Dauvray escorts Madame de Santos and the girl whose +rumored loveliness is famous already. Philip Hardin, with several +noted counsel, is in readiness. PŠre Fran‡ois is +absent. There is an elderly invalid, with an Eastern party of +strangers, who resembles him wonderfully.</p> +<p>On the case being reached, there is a busy hum of preparation. +One or two professional-looking men of mysterious identity +quietly take their places at the bar. In the clerk's offices +there is also a bevy of strangers. By a fortuitous chance, the +stalwart form of Colonel Joe Woods illuminates the dingy +court-room. His business is not on the calendar, He sits idly +playing with a huge diamond ring until the "matter of the +guardianship of Isabel Valois" is reached.</p> +<p>Several lawyers spring to their feet at once. A queer gleam is +in Joe Woods' eye as he nods carelessly to Hardin. They are both +Knights of the Golden Circle.</p> +<p>Judge Hardin's counsel opens the case, Hardin passes Natalie +in the court-room, with one last look of warning and menace. +There is no quiver to her eyelids. The graceful figure of a +veiled young girl is beside her.</p> +<p>When Hardin's advocate ceases, counsel rises to bring the +contest for the heirship of Lagunitas to the judicial notice of +the Court.</p> +<p>The Judge is asked to stay the confirmation of the guardian's +accounts and reports. His Honor blandly asks if the young lady is +in court.</p> +<p>"Let Isabel Valois take the stand," is the direction.</p> +<p>Judge Hardin arises and passing to Natalie Santos, whose +glittering eyes are steadily fixed on his, in an inscrutable +gaze, leads the young lady beside her to the stand. Natalie has +whispered a few words of cheer.</p> +<p>All eyes are fixed upon the beautiful stranger, who is +removing a veil from a face of the rarest loveliness. There is a +sensation.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin rises to his feet, ghastly pale, as Joseph Woods +quietly leads up to the platform a slight, girlish form. It is +another veiled woman, who quietly seats herself beside the +claimant.</p> +<p>There is amazement in the court-room, "His Honor," with a +startled glance at Judge Hardin, who is gazing vacantly at the +two figures before him, says, "Which of these young ladies is +Miss Isabel Valois?"</p> +<p>A voice is heard. It is one of the strange counselors +speaking.</p> +<p>Hardin hears the words, as if each stabbed him to the +heart.</p> +<p>"Your Honor, we are prepared to show that the last young lady +who has taken the stand, is Miss Isabel Valois."</p> +<p>There is consternation in the assembly. Hardin's veins are +knotted on his forehead. He stares blankly at the two girls. His +eyes turn to Natalie de Santos. She is gazing as if the grave had +given up its dead. Her cheeks whiten to ashes. PŠre +Fran‡ois, Henry Peyton, and Armand Valois enter and seat +themselves quietly by the side of the man who is speaking. What +does this all mean? No one knows. The lawyer resumes.</p> +<p>"We will show your Honor, by the evidence of the priest who +baptized her, and by the records of the church, that this young +lady is the lawful and only child of Maxime Valois and Dolores +Peralta. We have abundant proof to explain the seeming paradox. +We are in a position to positively identify the young lady, and +to dispose of the contest raised here to-day, as to the marriage +of the parents of the real heiress."</p> +<p>Philip Hardin has sprung to his lawyers. They are amazed at +the lovely apparition of another Isabel Valois. At the bidding of +the Court, Louise Moreau's gentle face appears.</p> +<p>"And who is the other young lady, according to your theory?" +falters the astounded judge, who cannot on the bench receive the +support of his Mephistopheles.</p> +<p>"We will leave that to be proved, your Honor! We will prove +OUR client to be Isabel Valois. We will prove the other lady not +to be. It remains for the guardian, who produces her, to show who +she may be." The lawyer quietly seats himself.</p> +<p>There is a deadlock. There is confusion in court. Side by side +are seated two dark-eyed girls, in the flush of a peerless young +womanhood. Lovely and yet unlike in facial lines, they are both +daughters of the South. Their deep melting eyes are gazing, in +timid wonder, at each other. They are strangers.</p> +<p>"What is the name of your witness?" the judge mechanically +questions. The lawyer calmly answers, "Fran‡ois Ribaut +(known in religion as 'Padre Francisco'), who married the father +and mother of this young lady, and also baptized her."</p> +<p>A faint sob from Natalie breaks the silence. Her eyes are +filled with sudden tears. She knows the truth at last. The priest +has risen. Hardin looks once more upon that pale countenance of +the padre which has haunted his dreams so long. "Is it one from +the dead?" he murmurs. But, with quick wit, his lawyer demands to +place on the witness stand, the lady charged with the nurture of +"Isabel Valois." Philip Hardin gazes wolfishly at the royal +beauty who is sworn. A breathless silence wraps the room.</p> +<p>The preliminary questions over, while Hardin's eyes rove +wildly over the face of the woman he has cast off, the direct +interrogatory is asked:</p> +<p>"Do you know who this young lady is?" says the attorney, with +a furtive prompting from Hardin. "I do!" answers the lady, with +broken voice.</p> +<p>Before another question can be asked, the colleagues of +Hardin's leading lawyer hold a whispered colloquy with their +chief.</p> +<p>There is a breathless silence in the court. The principal +attorney for the guardian asks the Court for a postponement of +two weeks.</p> +<p>"We were prepared to meet an inquiry into the legitimacy of +the ward of our client. This production of another claimant to +the same name, is a surprise to us. On account of the gravity of +this matter, we ask for a stay."</p> +<p>No objection is heard. His Honor, anxious himself to have time +to confer with the would-be senator, adjourns the hearing for two +weeks.</p> +<p>Before Hardin could extricate himself from the circle of his +advisers, the long-expected girl he has seen for the first time +has disappeared with Madame de Santos. He has no control over her +now. Too late!</p> +<p>His blood is bounding through his veins. He has been juggled +with. By whom? Natalie, that handsome fiend. And yet, she was +paralyzed at the apparition of the second beauty, who has also +vanished.</p> +<p>He must see Natalie at once before she can frame a new set of +lies. After all, the MINE is safe.</p> +<p>As he strides swiftly across the plaza, the thought of the +senatorial election, and the lady whom he has to placate, presses +on his mind.</p> +<p>As for the election, he will secure that. If Natalie attempts +exposure, he will claim it to be a blackmail invention of +political enemies. Ha! Money! Yes, the golden arguments of +concrete power. He will use it in floods of double eagles.</p> +<p>He will see Natalie on her way to Paris before the second +hearing. Yes, and send some one out of the State to watch her as +far as New York. He must buy her off.</p> +<p>A part of the money in hand; the rest payable at Paris to her +own order. She must be out of the way.</p> +<p>Mariposa boasts two hotels. The avoidance of Hardin's friends +brings all the strangers, perforce, together in the other. They +have been strangely private in their habits.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin's brow is set. It is no time for trifling. He +sends his name up to Madame de Santos. She begs to be excused. +"Would Judge Hardin kindly call in the evening?"</p> +<p>This would be after a council of war of his enemies. It must +be prevented. He pens a few words on a scrap of paper, and waits +with throbbing pulses,</p> +<p>"Madame will receive him." As he walks upstairs, he realizes +he has to face a reckoning with Joe Woods. He will make that +clumsy-headed Croesus rue the day. And yet Woods is in the State +Senate, and may oppose his election.</p> +<p>With his eyes fixed on the doors of Natalie's apartment, he +does not notice Woods gazing at him, from the end of the hall, in +the open door of the portico.</p> +<p>Natalie motions him to a seat as he enters. He looks at her in +amazement. She is not the same woman who entered that +court-house. He speaks. The sound of his own voice makes him +start.</p> +<p>"What is all this devil's tomfoolery? Explain it to me. Are +you mad?" His suppressed feelings overmaster him. He gives way to +an imprudent rage.</p> +<p>"Are you ready to marry me? Are you ready to keep the oath you +swore to stand by me?" Her dark eyes burn into his heart. She is +calm, but intense in her demand.</p> +<p>"Tell me the truth or I'll choke it out of you," he hisses, +grasping her rudely.</p> +<p>His rashness breaks the last bond between them. A shriek from +the struggling woman echoes through the room.</p> +<p>The door flies open.</p> +<p>Hardin is hurled to the wall, reeling blindly.</p> +<p>The energetic voice of Joe Woods breaks the silence. "You are +a mean dog, but, by God, I did not think you'd strangle a +woman."</p> +<p>Hardin has struggled to his feet. In his hand, flashes a +pistol.</p> +<p>Joe Woods smiles.</p> +<p>"Trying the old El Dorado dodge, Judge, won't work. Sit down +now. Listen to me. Put up that shooting iron, or I'll nail you to +the wall."</p> +<p>His bowie knife presses a keen point to Hardin's breast. It is +checkmate.</p> +<p>Natalie Santos is buried in the cushions of her chair. She is +sobbing wildly. Shuffling feet are at the door. The fracas has +been overheard.</p> +<p>Joe Woods quietly opens it. He speaks calmly. "The lady has +fainted. It's all right. Go away."</p> +<p>Through the door a girl's lovely face is seen, in frightened +shyness. "I'll send for you, miss, soon," Colonel Joe remarks, +with awkward sympathy.</p> +<p>He seats himself nonchalantly.</p> +<p>"Now, Hardin, I've got a little account to settle with you. +I'll give you all the time you want. But I'll say right here +before this lady, I know you are under an obligation to treat her +decently.</p> +<p>"I remember her at the El Dorado!"</p> +<p>Hardin springs to his feet. Natalie raises her tearful +eyes.</p> +<p>"Keep cool, Judge," continues the speaker. "You used to take +care of her. Now I'm a-going to advise her in her little private +affairs. I want you to let her severely alone. I want you to +treat her as she deserves; like a woman, not a beast. You can +finish this interview with her. I'm a-going out. If you approach +her after this, without my presence or until she sends for you, +I'll scatter your brains with my old six-shooter. I shall see she +gets a square deal. She's not going to leave California till this +whole business is cleared up. You hear me." Joe's mood is +dangerous.</p> +<p>"Now go ahead with your palaver, madame. I'm not going to +leave the house. I know my business, and I'll stand by you as +long as my name is Joe Woods. When you're done I want you to see +me, and see my lawyer."</p> +<p>There is silence. Natalie's eyes give the stalwart miner a +glance of unutterable thankfulness.</p> +<p>She has met a man at last.</p> +<p>Her bosom heaves with pride, her eyes beam on rough old Joe. +Woods has taken out an unusually long cigar. He lights it at the +door, and leisurely proceeds to smoke it on the upper +veranda.</p> +<p>When his foot-fall dies away, Hardin essays to speak. His lips +are strangely dry. He mutters something, and the words fail him. +Natalie interrupts, with scorn: "Curse you and your money, you +cowardly thief. You have met your match at last. I trusted to +your honor. Your hands were on my throat just now. I have but one +word to say to you now. Go, face that man out there!" Hardin is +in a blind rage.</p> +<p>His legal vocabulary finds no ready phrase of adieu. His foot +is on the top stair. Joe Woods says carelessly:</p> +<p>"Judge, you and I had better have a little talk to-night." Ah, +his enemy! He knows him at last. Hardin hoarsely mutters: "Where? +when?"</p> +<p>"When you please," says Woods.</p> +<p>"Ten, to-night; your room. I'll bring a friend with me." +Hardin nods, and passes on, crossing the square to his hotel. He +must have time for thought; for new plans; for revenge; yes, +bloody revenge.</p> +<p>Colonel Joseph Woods spends an hour in conference with Peyton +and Father Fran‡ois. Their plans are all finished.</p> +<p>Judge Davis, who is paralyzed by the vehemence of California +character, caresses his educated whiskers. He pets his +eye-glasses, while the three gentlemen confer. He is essentially +a man of peace. He fears he may become merely a "piece of man" in +case the appeal to revolvers, or mob law, is brought into this +case. They do things differently in New York.</p> +<p>While the two lovely girls are using every soothing art of +womanly sympathy to care for Natalie, it begins to dawn upon each +of them that their futures are strangely interlinked. The +presence of Madame de Santos seals their lips. They long for the +hour when they can converse in private. They know now that the +redoubtable Joe Woods has TWO fatherless girls to protect instead +of ONE.</p> +<p>Natalie Santos, lying on her couch, watches these young +beauties flitting about her room. "Does the heiress, challenged +in her right, dream of her real parentage?" A gleam of light +breaks in on the darkness of her sufferings. Why not peace and +the oblivion of retirement for her, if her child's future is +assured in any way? Why not?</p> +<p>Looking forward hopefully to a conference with Colonel Joe, +she fears only the clear eyes of old Padre Francisco. "Shall she +tell him all?" In these misgivings and vain rackings of the mind, +she passes the afternoon. She yields to her better angel, and +gives the story of her life to the patient priest.</p> +<p>Armand Valois and Raoul Dauvray have a blessed new bond of +brotherhood. They are both lovers. With Padre Francisco, they are +a guard of honor, watching night and day the two heiresses.</p> +<p>They share the secret consciousness of Natalie de Santos that +Joe Woods has in store some great stroke.</p> +<p>Judge Davis, Peyton, and the resolute Joe are the only calm +ones in the settlement. For, far and wide the news runs of racy +developments. In store, saloon, and billiard lounging-place, on +the corners, and around the deserted court-room, knots of +cigar-smoking scandal-mongers assuage their inward cravings by +frequent resort to the never-failing panacea—whiskey. Wild +romances are current, in which two great millionaires, two sets +of lawyers, duplicate heiresses, two foreign dukes, the old padre +and the queenly madame are the star actors in a thrilling local +drama, which is so far unpunctuated by the crack of the +revolver.</p> +<p>It is a struggle for millions, and the clash of arms will +surely come.</p> +<p>There has been no great issue ever resolved in Mariposa before +the legal tribunal, which has not added its corpses to the +mortuary selections lying in queer assortment on the red clay +hillsides.</p> +<p>"Justice nods in California while the pistols are being +drawn."</p> +<p>Hardin, closeted with his lawyers, suspends their eager +plotting, to furtively confer in private with the judge.</p> +<p>When the first stars sweep into the blue mountain skies, and a +silver moon rises slowly over the pine-clad hills, Joseph Woods +summons all his latent fascinations to appease Madame Natalie de +Santos. The sturdy Missourian has had his contretemps with Sioux +and Pawnee. He has faced prairie fires, stampeded buffalo herds, +and met dangers by flood and field. Little personal discussions +with horse thieves, some border frays, and even a chance +encounter on a narrow trail with a giant grizzly, have tried his +nerve. But he braces with a good stiff draught of cognac now. He +fears the wily and fascinating Natalie. He is at heart a would-be +lady's man. Roughness is foreign to his nature, but he will walk +the grim path of duty.</p> +<p>When he thinks of flinching, there rises on his memory the +lonely grave where Peyton laid Maxime Valois to rest on the +bloody field of Peachtree Creek, with the stars and bars lying +lightly on his gallant breast. And he calmly enters the presence +of the once famous siren.</p> +<p>There is a mute entreaty in her eyes, as she motions him to a +seat.</p> +<p>Joseph toys nervously with the huge diamond, which is a badge +"de rigueur" of his rank and grade as a bonanza king.</p> +<p>"I do not wish to agitate or distress you, madame," begins +Joe, and his voice is very kind.</p> +<p>"I broke out a little on Hardin; all bluff, you know. Just to +show him a card. Now will you trust and let me help you? I mean +to bring you out all right. I can't tell you all I know. I am +going to fight Hardin on another quarrel. It will be to the +death. I can just as well square your little account too, if you +will trust me. Will you let me handle your movements, up to the +legal issue. After that you are free. I'll give you the word of +an honest man, you shall not suffer. Will you trust me?"</p> +<p>Joe's big eyes are looking very appealingly in hers.</p> +<p>Without a word, she places her hand in his. "I am yours until +that time, but spare me as much as you can—the old +histories, you know," her voice falters. She is a woman, after +all.</p> +<p>"Now see here, madame! I swear to you I am the only private +man in California who knows your secret, except Hardin, now. I +got it in the days long past. No one shall know your identity." +He fixes a keen glance on her: "Is there anyone else you wish to +spare?" he softly says.</p> +<p>"Yes." She is sobbing now. "It is my child. Don't let her know +that awful past."</p> +<p>Joseph's eyes are filled with manly sorrow. He whispers with +eagerness:</p> +<p>"Her father is"—</p> +<p>"Philip Hardin," falters the woman, whose stately head is now +bowed in her hands.</p> +<p>"I'll protect that child. She shall never want a friend, if +you do one thing," Joe falters.</p> +<p>Natalie raises a white face to his.</p> +<p>"What is it?" she huskily whispers.</p> +<p>"Will you swear, in open court, which of these two girls is +your own child, if I ask you to?" He is eager and pleading.</p> +<p>She reads his very soul. She hesitates. "And you will protect +the innocent girl, against his wrath?" There is all a mother's +love in her appeal.</p> +<p>"Both of you. I swear it. You shall not want for money or +protection," Joe solemnly says.</p> +<p>"Then, I will!" Natalie firmly answers.</p> +<p>He springs to her side.</p> +<p>"Does Hardin know which girl is his daughter?"</p> +<p>"He does not!" Natalie says slowly.</p> +<p>There is a silence; Joe can hear his own heart beat. Victory +at last.</p> +<p>"I have nothing to ask you, except to see no one but myself, +Padre Francisco, or my lawyer. If Hardin wants to see you, I'll +be present. Now I am going to see him to-night. You will be +watched over night and day. I am going to have every precaution +taken. I shall be near you always. Rest in safety. I think I can +save you any opening up of the old days.</p> +<p>"I will see you early."</p> +<p>Her hands clasp his warmly! She says: "Colonel, send +PŠre Fran‡ois to me. I will tell him all you need +to know. He will know what to keep back."</p> +<p>"That's right," cries Joseph, warmly. "I know how to handle +Hardin now. You can bank on the padre. He's dead game."</p> +<p>"And your reward?" Natalie whispers, with bowed head.</p> +<p>A wild thought makes the blood surge to Joe's brain. He slowly +stammers, "My reward?" His eyes tell him he must make no mistake. +A flash of genius.</p> +<p>"You will square my account, madame, if you make no objection +to the immediate marriage of your daughter to Dauvray. He's a +fine fellow for a Frenchman, and she shall never know this story. +She'll have money enough. I'll see to that." Joe's voice is +earnest.</p> +<p>Natalie's arms are stretched to him in thanks. "In God's name, +be it, my noble friend."</p> +<p>Joe dares not trust himself longer.</p> +<p>He retires, leaving Natalie standing, a splendid statue, with +shining, hopeful eyes. Her blessing follows him; sin-shadowed +though she be, it reaches the Court of Heaven.</p> +<p>Natalie, in silent sorrow, sees her labor of years brushed +away. Her child can never be the heiress of Lagunitas. Fate has +brought the gentle Louise Moreau to the very threshold of her old +home. It is Providence. Destiny. The all-knowing PŠre +Fran‡ois reveals to her how strangely the life-path of the +heiress has been guarded. "My daughter," the priest solemnly +says, "be comforted. Right shall prevail. Trust me, trust Colonel +Woods. Your child may fall heir yet to a name and to her own +inheritance. The ways of Him who pardons are mysterious." He +leaves her comforted and yet not daring to break the seal of +silence to the lovely claimants.</p> +<p>While PŠre Fran‡ois confers with Natalie, as the +moon sails high in heaven over the fragrant pines, Woods and +Peyton exchange a few quiet words over their cigars.</p> +<p>By the repeater which Joe consults it is now a quarter of ten. +The two gentlemen stroll over the grassy plaza. By a singular +provincial custom each carries a neat navy revolver, where a hand +could drop easily on it. Joe also caresses his favorite knife in +his overcoat pocket.</p> +<p>In five minutes they are seated with Philip Hardin in his +room. There is an air of gloomy readiness in Hardin which shows +the unbending nature of the man. He is alone. Woods frankly says: +"Judge Hardin, I wish you to know my friend, Mr. Henry Peyton. If +anything should happen to me, he knows all my views. He will +represent me. As you are alone, I will ask Mr. Peyton to wait for +me below."</p> +<p>Henry Peyton bows and passes downstairs, where he is regarded +as an archangel of the enemy. For the Hardin headquarters are +loyal to their great chief. The man who controls the millions of +Lagunitas is surrounded by his loyal body-guard at Mariposa.</p> +<p>When the two men are alone, Woods waits for Hardin to speak. +He is silent. There is a gulf between them which never can be +bridged. Joseph feels he is no match for Hardin in chicanery, but +he has his little surprise in store for the lawyer. It is an +armed truce.</p> +<p>"Hardin, I've come over to-night to talk a little politics +with you," begins Joseph. His eye is glued on the Judge's, who +steadily returns the glance.</p> +<p><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr /> +<p><a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"></a></p> +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XX. — JUDGE HARDIN MEETS HIS MATCH.—A +SENATORIAL ELECTION.—IN A MARIPOSA COURT-ROOM.—THE +TRUST FULFILLED AT LAGUNITAS.</h2> +<p>"You need not trouble yourself about my political aspirations, +sir," haughtily remarks Hardin, glaring at the stolid visitor, +who calmly continues.</p> +<p>"I don't allow no trouble, Jedge," Woods drawls. "I'll play my +cards open. I run this here joint convention, which makes or +breaks you. I'm dead-flat plain in my meaning. I can burst up +your election as United States Senator, unless you and me can +make 'a deal.'"</p> +<p>"Your terms?" sneers Hardin, with a glance at Joe's hand in +his pocket, "Toujours pret" is Joseph's motto.</p> +<p>"Oh, my terms! I'll be open, Jedge. I leave this here lawsuit +between us, to our lawyers. I will fight you fair in that. You +will find me on the square."</p> +<p>"Do you threaten me, sir?" demands Hardin.</p> +<p>"Now, make your own game." Joe's brow darkens. "Hardin, I want +you to hear me out; you can take it then, in any shape you want +to. Fight or trade." Woods' old Missouri grit is aroused.</p> +<p>"Go on," says Hardin, with a rising gorge.</p> +<p>"You're talking marriage." Joe's sneer maddens Hardin. "I tell +you now to settle old scores with the lady whom I found in your +hands to-night. If you don't, you're not going to the +Senate."</p> +<p>Hardin gathers himself. Ah, that hand in the pocket!</p> +<p>"Don't make a mistake, Jedge," coldly interjects Woods. "Drop +that gun. We're no bravos."</p> +<p>"I positively decline to have any bargain with you on my +private matters. After you leave this room, you can look out for +yourself, if you cross my path," hisses the Judge, his face pale +and ghastly.</p> +<p>"Now, Jedge," Joe snaps out, "watch your own scalp. Hardin, +I'll not dodge you. You are going on the wrong road. We split +company here. But there's room enough in California for you and +me. As for any 'shooting talk,' it's all bosh. You will get in a +hot corner, unless you hear me out. I tell you now, to +acknowledge your child by that woman. Save your election; save +yourself, old man.</p> +<p>"She'll go off to France, but you've got to give her child a +square name and a set-out."</p> +<p>"Never!" yells Hardin, forgetting himself, as with blind rage +he points to the door.</p> +<p>"All right," says Joseph, coolly. "You'll never be senator +till you send for me. You have fair warning. My cards are face-up +on the table." Hardin, speechless with rage, sees him +disappear.</p> +<p>Peyton and Joe Woods walk over the silent plaza, with the +twinkling stars sweeping overhead. They exchange but few words. +They seek the rest of their pillows. Joe's prayers consist of +reloading his revolvers.</p> +<p>The last watcher in Mariposa is Hardin, the hate of hell in +his heart. A glass of neat brandy is tossed off. He throws +himself heavily on the bed. The world is a torment to him now. +"On to Sacramento" is his last thought. Money, in hoards and +heaps, will drown this rich booby's vain interference. For, +legislatures sell senatorial honors in California openly like +cabbage in a huckster's wagon, only at higher prices.</p> +<p>Before the gray squirrels are leaping on the madronas and +nutty oaks next dawn of day, Hardin is miles away towards the +State capital. His legal forces remain. He takes one trusty +agent, to distribute his golden arguments.</p> +<p>When Woods leisurely finishes his breakfast he strolls under +the pines with PŠre Fran‡ois. There are also two +youthful couples. They are reading lessons, not of law, but of +love, in each other's shining eyes as they wander in the lonely +forest paths.</p> +<p>Seated by a dashing mountain brook which runs past the town, +PŠre Fran‡ois gravely informs Joe that Natalie de +Santos has given him the dark history of her chequered life. +Though the seal of the confessional protects it, he has her +consent to supply Woods and Judge Davis with certain facts. Her +sworn statements will verify these if needed.</p> +<p>After a long interview with Madame de Santos, Colonel Joseph +follows Hardin to Sacramento. He has one or two resolute friends +with him as a guard against the coarse Western expedient of +assassination. He knows Hardin's deft touches of old.</p> +<p>As the stage rattles around dizzy heights, below massy cliffs, +swinging under the forest arches, the Missouri champion reasons +out that Hardin's hands are tied personally as regards a bloody +public quarrel, by the coming senatorial fight. To pluck the +honors of the Senate at last from a divided State, is a testimony +to the lawyer's great abilities. Joe thinks, with a sigh of +regret, that some mere animated money-bag may sit under the white +dome, and misrepresent the sovereign State of California. "Well, +if Hardin won't bend, he's got to break." The miner puffs his +cigar in search of wisdom.</p> +<p>Single-minded and unswerving, Woods goes directly to his +splendid rooms at the "Golden Eagle," on reaching Sacramento.</p> +<p>The capital city of the State is crowded with legislators and +attach‚s. The lobby banditti, free lances, and camp +followers of the annual raid upon the pockets of the people are +on guard. While his meal is being served in his parlor, he +indites a note to Hardin's political Mark Antony. It will rest +with him to crown a triumph or deliver his unheard oration over +the body of a politically dead Caesar. The billet reads:</p> +<p>"I want you instantly, on a matter deciding Hardin's election. +You can show him this."</p> +<p>In half an hour, over burgundy and the ever-flowing champagne, +Woods, feeling his visitor in good humor, fires his first gun. He +begins with half-shut eyes, in a genial tone:</p> +<p>"Harris, I have sent for you to tell you Hardin and me have +locked horns over some property. Now I won't vote for him, but +I'll hold off my dogs. I won't work against him if he signs a +sealed paper I'm goin' to give you. If he don't, I'll open out, +and tell an old yarn to our secret nominating caucus. I am +solidly responsible for the oration. He will be laid out. It +rests only with his friends then, to spread this scandal. He has +time to square this. It does not hang on party interests. I am a +man of my word, you know. Now, I leave it to you to consider if +he has any right to ask his friends to back him in certain +defeat. See him quick. If he tells you to hear the story from me, +I will tell you all. If he flies the track, I am silent until the +caucus. THEN, I will speak, if I'm alive. If I am dead, my pard +will speak for me. My death would seal his utter ruin. I can +stand the consequences. He has got to come up to the captain's +office and settle." The astounded Harris gloomily muses while +Woods quietly inscribes a few lines on a sheet of paper. He seals +the envelop, and hands it to Senator Harris.</p> +<p>"I won't leave this camp, Harris, till I get your answer," +calmly remarks Joseph. He refuses to waste more words in +explanation. "See Hardin," is his only phrase. "It's open war +then between him and me."</p> +<p>Harris, with a very grave face, enters the private rooms of +Judge Hardin at the Orleans Hotel.</p> +<p>Hardin listens, with scowling brow as black as night. He tears +open the envelop! His faithful henchman wonders what can bring +night's blackness to Judge Hardin's face.</p> +<p>The lines are a careful acknowledgment of the paternity of the +girl child of "Natalie de Santos," born at San Francisco and now +about eighteen years of age. It closes with a statement of her +right to inherit as a lawful heiress from him.</p> +<p>"I will shoot that dog on sight, if he carries out this +threat," deliberately says Hardin.</p> +<p>"Judge," coldly replies his lieutenant, "does this note refer +to public affairs, or to party interests?"</p> +<p>"Private matters!" replies Hardin, his eyes flashing.</p> +<p>"Then, let me say, I will keep silent in this matter. I shall +ask you to name some other man to handle your candidacy before +the Legislature. Joe Woods is honest, and absolutely of iron +nerve. You can send for any of your other friends, and choose a +man to take my place. I won't fight Joe. Woods never lied in his +life.</p> +<p>"If you will state that you have adjusted this difference with +him, I am at your service. Let me know your decision soon. He +waits for me. In all else, I am yours, as a friend, but I will +not embroil the State now for a mere private feud. Send for me, +Judge, when you have decided."</p> +<p>In the long and heated conferences of the night, before the +sun again pours its shimmering golden waves on the parched plains +of Sacramento, Hardin finds no one who will face the mysterious +situation.</p> +<p>Harris finds the patient Joe playing seven-up with a couple of +friends, and his pistols on the table.</p> +<p>"All right, Harris; let him think it over." Joe nods, and +continues his game.</p> +<p>Calmly expectant, when Harris sends his name up next morning, +Joe Woods is in very good humor. The gathering forces are anxious +for the hour when a solemn secret party caucus shall name the man +to be officially balloted in as Senator of the United States for +six years. The term is not to begin for three months, but great +corporations, the banks, with their heaped millions, and all the +mighty high-priests of the dollar-god, need that sense of +security which Hardin's ability will give to their different +schemes. Their plans can be safely laid out then.</p> +<p>In simple straightforwardness, Harris hands Woods a sealed +envelop, without a word.</p> +<p>In the vigils of one awful night, Philip Hardin knows that he +must fence off the maddened woman who seems to have a mysterious +hold upon his destiny at this crisis. What force impels her?</p> +<p>Hardin has enjoined Harris to have Woods repeat his pledge of +"non-opposition."</p> +<p>"Did you see the Jedge sign this here paper?" says Woods +dryly, as he inspects the signature. His face is solemn.</p> +<p>"I did," Harris answers.</p> +<p>"Then just write your name here as witness," Joseph briskly +says, handing him a pen, and covering the few lines of the +document, leaving only Philip Hardin's well-known signature +visible.</p> +<p>Harris hesitates. Joe's eyes are blazing; no foolery now! +Harris quietly signs. The name of Joseph Woods is added, at once, +with the date.</p> +<p>"Harris," says Joseph, "you're a man of honor. I pledge you +now I will not make public the nature of this document. Hardin +can grab for the Senate now, if you boys can elect him. I'll not +fight him."</p> +<p>Harris retires in silence. The day is saved. Though the +election is within three days, Joseph Woods finds private +business so pressing that his seat is vacant, when Philip Hardin +is declared Senator-elect. The pledge has been kept. Not a rumor +of the secret incident reaches the public. The cautious Joseph is +grateful for not being obliged to shorten Hardin's life.</p> +<p>Fly as fast as Hardin may to Mariposa, Joe Woods is there +before him. The telegraph bears to every hamlet of the Golden +State the news of the senatorial choice.</p> +<p>Philip Hardin, seated on the porch of the old mansion at +Lagunitas, reads the eulogies crowding the columns of fifty +journals.</p> +<p>From San Diego to Siskiyou one general voice hails the +new-made member of that august body, who are now so rapidly +giving America "Roman liberties."</p> +<p>The friend of Mammon, nurtured in conspiracy, skilled in +deceit, Hardin, the hidden Mokanna, grins behind his silver +veil.</p> +<p>His deep-laid plans seem all safe now. The local meshes of his +golden net hold the District Judge firmly. It will be easy to +postpone, to weary out, to harass this strange faction. He has +stores of coin ready. They are the heaped-up reserves of his +"senatorial ammunition." And yet Joe Woods, that burly meddling +fool. To placate Natalie! To induce her to leave at once for +Paris! How shall this be done? Ha! The marriage is her dream in +life! He is elected now. He fears not her Southern rival. The +ambitious political lady aspirant! He can explain to her now in +private, To give Natalie an acknowledgment of a private marriage +will content her. Then his bought Judge can quietly grant a +separation for desertion, after Natalie has returned to France. +She will care nothing for the squabble over the acres of +Lagunitas, if well paid. As for the priest, he may swear as +strongly as he likes. The girl will surely be declared +illegitimate. He has destroyed all the papers. Valois' will is +never to see the light. If deception has been practiced he cares +not. Senatorial privilege raises him too high for the voice of +slander.</p> +<p>He has the golden heart of these hills now to himself.</p> +<p>Yes, he will fool the priest and divide his enemies. The money +for Natalie will be deposited in Paris banks. The principal to be +paid her in one year, on condition of never again coming to the +United States. Long before that time he will be legally free and +remarried. Hardin rubs his hands in glee. Neither reporter nor +the public will ever see the divorce proceedings. That is easily +handled in Mariposa.</p> +<p>In his local legal experience, he has many times seen wilder +schemes succeed. Spanish grants have been shifted leagues to suit +the occasion. Boundaries are removed bodily. Witnesses are +manufactured under golden pressure. The eyes of Justice are +blinded with opaque weights of the yellow treasure.</p> +<p>But he must work rapidly. It is now only a short week to the +trial. The court-house and records are regularly watched. Not a +move indicates any prying into the matter beyond the mere +identity of the heiress. But who has set up the other +claimant?</p> +<p>It would be madness for Natalie to raise this quarrel! Some +schemers have imposed a strange girl on the other party. Hardin +recalls Natalie's wild astonishment at the apparition of another +"Isabel Valois."</p> +<p>And the second girl did not even know who Natalie was. What +devil's work is this?</p> +<p>Hardin decides to "burn his ships." Alone in the home of the +Peraltas, he prepares for a campaign "… l'outrance." That +crafty priest might know too much. The evening before his +departure he burns up every paper at the ranch which would cause +any remark, even in case of his death. Next morning, as he rides +out of Lagunitas, he gazes on the fair domain. The last thing he +sees is the chapel cross. A chill suddenly strikes him. He +gallops on. Rapidly journeying to Mariposa, he installs himself +in the headquarters of his friends. His ablest counsel has +provided the bought Judge, with full secret instructions to meet +every contingency.</p> +<p>Sober and serious in final judgment, Philip Hardin quickly +summons a discreet friend. He requests a last personal interview +with Natalie de Santos. The ambassador is received by +good-humored Joe Woods. He declines an interview, by the lady's +orders, unless its object is stated.</p> +<p>Hardin requests that some friend other than the Missouri +miner, may be named to represent Natalie.</p> +<p>His eyes gleam when the selection is made of PŠre +Fran‡ois. Just what he would wish.</p> +<p>It lacks now but three days of the final hearing. An hour +after the message, Hardin and the priest are seated, in quiet +commune. There are no papers. There is no time lost, none to +lose. No witnesses, no interlopers.</p> +<p>Hardin opens his proposals. The priest seems tractable. "I do +not wish to refer to any present legal matters. I speak only of +the past. I will refer only to the future of 'Madame de Santos.' +You may say to her that if she will grant me a brief interview, I +feel I can make her a proposition she will accept, as very +advantageous. In justice to her, I cannot communicate its +details, even to you. But if she wishes to advise with you, I +have no objection to giving you the guarantees of my provision +for her future. You shall know as much of our whole arrangement +as she wishes you to. She can have you or other friends, in an +adjoining room. You can be called in to witness the papers, and +examine the details."</p> +<p>The grave priest returns in half an hour. Hardin ponders +uneasily. The priest plays an unimpassioned part. "Madame de +Santos will receive Judge Hardin on his terms, with the +condition, that if there is any exciting difference, Judge Hardin +will retire at once, and not renew his proposals." Hardin +accepts. Now for work.</p> +<p>Side by side, the new-made senator and the old priest walk +across the plaza. Success smiles on Hardin.</p> +<p>Local quid-nuncs mutter "Compromise," as they seek the +spiritual consolation of the Magnolia Saloon and Palace +Varieties. Is there to be no pistol practice after all?</p> +<p>Alas, these degenerate days! The camp has lost its glory. +Betting has been two to one that Colonel Joe Woods riddles the +Judge before the trial is over.</p> +<p>Now these bets will be off. A fraud on the innocent public. +The decadence of Mariposa.</p> +<p>Yet, Hardin is not easy. In the first struggle of his life +with a priest, Hardin feels himself no match for his passionless +antagonist. The waxen mask of the Church hides the inner soul of +the man.</p> +<p>Only when PŠre Fran‡ois turns his searching gaze +on the Judge, parrying every move, does the lawyer feel how the +immobility of the clergyman is proof against his wiles and +professional ambushes.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois conducts Hardin into the room +whence Natalie dismissed him, in her roused but sadly wounded +spirit. She is there, waiting. Her face is marble in pallor.</p> +<p>With a grave bow, the old ecclesiastic retires to an adjoining +room and leaves them alone. There is a writing table.</p> +<p>"Madame, to spare you discussion," Hardin remarks seriously, +"I will write on two sheets of paper what I ask and what I offer. +You may confer with your adviser. I will retire. You can add to +either anything you propose. We can then, at once, observe if we +can approach each other."</p> +<p>Natalie's stately head bows assent in silence. In five minutes +Hardin hands her the two sheets.</p> +<p>Natalie's face puzzles him. Calm and unmoved, she looks him +quietly in the eyes, as if in a mute farewell. She has simply +uttered monosyllables, in answer to his few explanations.</p> +<p>Hardin walks up and down upon the veranda, while Natalie, the +priest, and Colonel Joe scan the two sheets. His heart beats +quickly while the trio read his proposals.</p> +<p>They are simple enough. What he gets and what he gives. Madame +de Santos is to absent herself from the trial. She is to leave +Isabel Valois, her charge, with the priest. She is to be silent +as to the entire past.</p> +<p>Hardin's lawyers are to stipulate, in case of Isabel Valois +being defeated in any of her rights, she shall be free to receive +a fund equal to that settled on the absent child of Natalie. Her +freedom comes with her majority in any case.</p> +<p>Judge Hardin offers, on the other hand:</p> +<p>To give a written recognition of the private marriage, and to +fully legalize the absent Irene.</p> +<p>To admit her to his succession, and to surrender all control +to the mother.</p> +<p>On condition of Natalie de Santos ceasing all marital claims +and disappearing at once, she is to receive five hundred thousand +dollars, in bankers' drafts to her order in Paris, six months +after the legal separation.</p> +<p>Hardin's tread re-echoes on the porch. His mind is busied. Is +he to have a closing career of unsullied honor in the Senate? He +is yet in a firm, if frosty age. A dignified halo will surround +his second marriage. It is better thus. Peace and silence at any +cost. And Lagunitas' millions to come. The mine—his +dear-bought treasure. It is coming, Philip Hardin. Peace and +rest? it will be peace and silence. He starts! The black-robed +priest is at the door. Father Fran‡ois has now resumed his +soutane.</p> +<p>"Will you kindly enter?" he says.</p> +<p>Hardin, with unmoved face, seats himself opposite Natalie. +PŠre Fran‡ois remains.</p> +<p>"I will accept your terms, Judge Hardin," she steadily says, +"with the addition that the advice of Judge Davis be at my +service regarding the papers, and that I leave to-morrow for San +Francisco.</p> +<p>"You are to send an agent, also. The money to be transferred +by telegraph, payable absolutely to me at Paris, by my bankers, +at the appointed time. Your agent may accompany me to the +frontier of the State. I will leave as soon as the bankers +acknowledge the transfer.</p> +<p>"In case of any failure on your part, the obligation to keep +silent ceases. I retain the marriage papers."</p> +<p>Hardin bows his head. The priest is silent. In a few moments, +the senator-elect says:</p> +<p>"I agree to all." His senatorial debut pictures itself in his +mind.</p> +<p>Madame de Santos rises, "I authorize PŠre +Fran‡ois to remain with you, on my behalf. Let the papers +be at once prepared. I am ready to leave to-morrow morning. I +only insist the two papers which would affect my child, be +duplicated, and both witnessed by our lawyers."</p> +<p>Hardin bows assent. Natalie de Santos walks toward the door of +her rooms. Her last words fall on his ear: "PŠre +Fran‡ois will represent me in all." She is going. Hardin +springs to the door: "And I shall see you again?" His voice +quivers slightly. Old days throng back to his memory. "Is it for +ever?" His iron heart softens a moment.</p> +<p>"I pray God, never! Philip Hardin, you are dead to me. The +past is dead. I can only think of you with your cruel grasp on my +throat!" She is gone.</p> +<p>As the door closes, Hardin buries his face in his hands. +Thoughts of other days are rending his heart-strings.</p> +<p>Before three hours, the papers are all executed. The morning +stage takes Natalie de Santos, with the priest, and guarded by +Armand Valois, away from the scene of the coming legal +battle.</p> +<p>In the early gray of the dawn, Philip Hardin only catches a +glimpse of a muffled form in a coach. He will see the mother of +his child no more. With a wild dash, the stage sweeps away. It is +all over.</p> +<p>His agent, in a special conveyance, is already on the road. He +has orders to telegraph the completion of the transfer. He is to +verify the departure for New York, of the ex-queen of the El +Dorado.</p> +<p>On the day of the hearing, the court-house is crowded. +PŠre Fran‡ois and Armand Valois have not yet +returned. Both sides have received, by telegraph, the news of the +completion of the work. By stipulation, the newly-acknowledged +marriage is not to be made public.</p> +<p>Hardin, pale and thoughtful, enters the court with his +supporters. There is but one young lady present. With her, +Peyton, Judge Davis, and Joseph Woods are seated. Raoul Dauvray +seats himself quietly between the two parties.</p> +<p>When the case is reached, there is the repression of a deathly +silence. Hardin, by the advice of his lawyers, will stand +strictly on the defensive. He has decided to acknowledge his +entire readiness to close his guardianship. He will leave the +heirship to be finally adjusted by the Court. The Court is under +his thumb.</p> +<p>His senatorial duties call for this relief. It will take +public attention from the unpleasant matter. Rid of the burden of +the ranch, still the "bonanza of Lagunitas" will be his, as +always.</p> +<p>The great lawyer he relies on states plausibly this entire +willingness to such a relief, and requests the Court to appoint a +successor to the distinguished trustee. Hardin feels that he has +now covered his past with a solid barrier. Safe at last. No +living man can roll away the huge rock from the "tomb of the dead +past." It would need a voice from the grave. He can defy the +whole world. No thought of his dead friend haunts him.</p> +<p>When the advocate ceases speaking, while the Judge ponders +over the disputed heirship, and the contest as to the legitimacy +of Maxime Valois' child, when clearly identified, Judge Davis +rises quietly to address the Court. Philip Hardin feels a slight +chill icing down his veins, as he notes the gravity of the +Eastern lawyer's manner. Is there a masked battery?</p> +<p>"Your Honor," begins Davis, "we oppose any action tending to +discharge or relieve the present guardian of Isabel Valois.</p> +<p>"A most important discovery of new matters in the affairs of +this estate, makes it my duty to lay some startling facts before +your Honor."</p> +<p>There is a pause. Hardin's heart flutters madly. He sees a +stony look gather on Joe Woods' face. There is a peculiar +grimness also in the visage of the watchful Peyton. Everyone in +the room is on the alert. Crowding to the front, Hardin is +elbowed by a man who seats himself in a chair reserved by Judge +Davis.</p> +<p>His eyes are blinded for a moment. Great Heavens! It is his +old law-clerk. The wily and once hilarious Jaggers.</p> +<p>He is here for some purpose. That devil Woods' work.</p> +<p>Hardin's hand clutches a revolver in his pocket. He glares +uneasily at Joe Woods, at Peyton, at the ex-clerk. He +breathlessly waits for the solemn voice of Davis:</p> +<p>"We propose, your Honor, to introduce evidence that the late +Maxime Valois left a will. We propose to prove that the estate +has been maladministered. We will prove to your Honor that a +gigantic fraud has been perpetrated during the minority of the +child of Colonel Valois. The most valuable element of the estate, +the Lagunitas mine, has been fraudulently enjoyed by the +administrator."</p> +<p>Hardin springs to his feet. He is forced into his chair by his +counsel. There is the paleness of death on his face, but murder +lurks in his heart. Away with patience now. A hundred eyes are +gazing in his direction. The Judge is anchored, in amazement, on +the bench. Woods and Peyton are facing Hardin, with steady +defiance.</p> +<p>As he struggles to rise, he feels his blood boiling like +molten iron.</p> +<p>He has been trapped by this devil, Woods. Davis resumes: "I +shall show your Honor, by the man who held Colonel Valois in his +arms on the battlefield as he lay dying, that a will was duly +forwarded to the guardian and administrator, who concealed it. I +will also prove, your Honor, that Colonel Valois repeated that +will in a document taken from his dead body, in which he +acknowledged his marriage, and the legitimacy of his true child. +I will file these papers, and prove them by testimony of the +gallant officer who buried him, and who succeeded to his +regiment."</p> +<p>A deep growl from Hardin is heard. He knows now who Peyton is. +What avenging fiends are on his track? But the mine, the mine is +safe. Always the mine, The deeds will hold. Davis resumes, his +voice ringing cold and clear:</p> +<p>"I shall also prove by documents, concealed by the +administrator, that Maxime Valois never parted with the title to +the Lagunitas mine; that the millions have been stolen, which it +has yielded. I will bring in the evidence of the clerk who +received these last letters from the absent owner in the field, +that they are genuine. They state his utter inability to sell the +mine, as the whole property belonged to his wife."</p> +<p>There is a blood-red film before Hardin's eyes now. Prudence +flies after patience. It is his Waterloo. All is lost, even +honor.</p> +<p>"I venture to remind your Honor, that even if the daughter, +whom I produce here, is proved illegitimate, that she takes the +whole property, including the mine, as the legal heir of her +mother, under the laws of California." A murmur is suppressed by +the clerk's hammer.</p> +<p>There is an awful silence as Judge Davis adds: "I will further +produce before your Honor, Armand Valois, the only other heir of +the decedent, to whom the succession would fall by law. He is +named in the will I will establish, made twelve hours before the +writer was killed at the battle of Peachtree Creek.</p> +<p>"I am aware," Judge Davis concludes, "that some one has forged +the titles to the Lagunitas mine. I will prove the forgery to +have been executed in the interest of Philip Hardin, the +administrator, whom I now formally ask you to remove pending this +trial, as a man false to his trust. He has robbed the orphan +daughter of his friend. He deceived the man who laid his life +down for the cause of the South, while he plotted in the safe +security of distant California homes. Colonel Valois was robbed +by his trusted friend."</p> +<p>A mighty shudder shakes the crowd. Men gaze at each other, +wildly. The blinking Judge is dazed on the bench he pollutes. +Before any one can draw a breath in relief, Hardin, bending +himself below the restraining arms, springs to his feet and +levels a pistol full at Joe Woods' breast.</p> +<p>"You hound!" he yells. His arm is struck up; Raoul Dauvray has +edged every moment nearer the disgraced millionaire. The +explosion of the heavy pistol deafens those near. When the smoke +floats away, a gaping wound tells where its ball crashed through +Hardin's brain. Slain by his own hand. Dead and disgraced. The +senatorial laurels never touch his brow!</p> +<p>In five minutes the court is cleared. An adjournment to the +next day is forced by the sudden tragedy. The wild mob are +thronging the plaza.</p> +<p>Silent in death lies the man who realized at last how the +awful voice of the dead Confederate called down the vengeance of +God on the despoiler of the orphan.</p> +<p>The telegraph, lightning-winged, bears the news far and wide. +By the evening PŠre Fran‡ois and Armand Valois +return. In a few hours Natalie de Santos turns backward. The +swift wheels speeding down the Truckee are slower than the +electric spark bearing to the ex-queen of the El Dorado, the wife +of a day, the news of her legal widowhood.</p> +<p>Henry Peyton brings back the traveller, whose presence is now +absolutely needed.</p> +<p>A lonely grave on the red hillside claims the last remains of +the dark Chief of the Golden Circle. Few stand by its yawning +mouth, to see the last of the man whose name has been just hailed +everywhere with wild enthusiasm.</p> +<p>Unloved, unhonored, unregretted, unshriven, with all his +imperfections on his head, he waits the last trump. Alone in +death, as in life.</p> +<p>In the brief and formal verification of all these facts, the +Court finds an opportunity to at once establish the identity of +the heiress of Lagunitas. For, there is no contest now.</p> +<p>In formal devotion to the profession, Hardin's lawyer +represents the estate of the dark schemer.</p> +<p>The legal tangles yield to final proofs.</p> +<p>There is a family party at Lagunitas once more. Judge Davis +and Peyton guard the interests of the girl who has only lost the +millions of Lagunitas to inherit a fortune from the father who +scorned to even gaze upon her face. Joseph Woods joyfully guides +the beautiful heiress of the domain, who kneels besides the grave +of Dolores Peralta, her unknown mother, with her lover by her +side. The last of the Valois stand there, hand in hand. She is +Louise Moreau no more.</p> +<p>PŠre Fran‡ois is again in his old home by the +little chapel, where twenty years ago he raised his voice in the +daily supplication for God's sinful children.</p> +<p>While Raoul Dauvray and Armand ride in voyages of discovery +over the great domain, the two heiresses are happy with each +other. There is no question between them. They are innocent of +each other's sorrows. They now know much of the shadowy past with +its chequered romance. The transfer of all the mine and its +profits to the young girl, who finds the domain in the hills a +fairyland, is accomplished.</p> +<p>Judge Davis hies himself away to the splendid excitement of +his Eastern metropolitan practise. His "honorarium" causes him to +have an added and tender feeling for the all-conquering Joe +Woods. Henry Peyton is charged with the general supervision of +the Lagunitas estate. He is aided by a mine superintendent +selected by that wary old Argonaut, Joe.</p> +<p>Natalie de Santos leaves the refuge of lovely Lagunitas in a +few weeks. There is a shadow resting on her heart which will +never be lifted. In vain, beside the old chapel, seated under the +giant rose-vines, PŠre Fran‡ois urges her to +witness the marriage of her daughter. Under the care of Joseph +Woods, she leaves for San Francisco. Her daughter, who is soon to +take a rightful name, learns from PŠre Fran‡ois the +agreed-on reasons of her absence. Natalie will not make a dark +background to the happiness to come. Silence and expiation await +her beyond the surges of the Atlantic.</p> +<p>Joseph Woods and PŠre Fran‡ois have buried all +awkward references to past history. Irene Dauvray will never know +the story of the lovely "Queen of the El Dorado."</p> +<p>There are no joy bells at Lagunitas on the day when the old +priest unites Armand and Isabel Valois in marriage. The same +solemn consecration gives gallant Raoul Dauvray, the woman he +adores. It is a sacrament of future promise. Peyton and Joe Woods +are the men who stand in place of the fathers of these two +dark-eyed brides. It is a solemn and tender righting of the old +wrongs. A funeral of the past—a birth of a brighter day, +for all.</p> +<p>The load of care and strife has been taken from the shoulders +of the three elders, who gravely watch the four glowing and +enraptured lovers.</p> +<p>In a few weeks, Raoul Dauvray and his bride leave for San +Francisco. Fittingly they choose France for their home. In San +Francisco, Joseph Woods leads the young bride through the silent +halls of the old house on the hill. The Missourian gravely bids +the young wife remember that it was here her feet wandered over +the now neglected paths.</p> +<p>Joseph Woods convoys the departing voyagers to the border of +the State. The ample fortune secured to them, will engage his +occasional leisure in advice as to its local management.</p> +<p>Natalie de Santos goes forth with them. Her home in Paris +awaits her. The Golden State knows her no more. Her feet will +never wander back to the shores where her stormy youth was +passed.</p> +<p>A lover's pilgrimage to beloved Paris and the old castle by +the blue waters of Lake Geneva claims the Lord and Lady of +Lagunitas. For, they will return to dwell in the mountains of +Mariposa. Before they cross the broad Atlantic, they have a +sacred duty to perform. It is to visit the grave of the soldier +of the Lost Cause and lay their wreaths upon the turf which +covers his gallant breast.</p> +<p>The old padre sits on the porch of his house at Lagunitas. He +waits only for the last solemn act. Henry Peyton is to follow the +travellers East, and remove the soldier of the gray to the little +chapel grounds of Lagunitas.</p> +<p>When Padre Francisco has seen the master come home, and raised +his weakening voice in requiem over the friend of his youth, he +will seek once more his dear Paris, and find again his cloistered +home near Notre Dame.</p> +<p>He has, as a memorial of mother and daughter, a deed of the +old home of Philip Hardin. It is given to the Church for a +hospital. It is well so. None of the living ever wish to pass +again its shadowed portals.</p> +<p>While waiting the time for their departure, the priest and +Henry Peyton watch the splendid beauties of Lagunitas, in +peaceful brotherhood. The man of war and the servant of peace are +drawn towards each other strangely.</p> +<p>The Virginian often gazes on the sword of Maxime Valois, +hanging now over the hearthplace he left in his devotion to the +Lost Cause. He thanks God that the children of the old blood are +in the enjoyment of their birthright.</p> +<p>Padre Francisco, telling his beads, or whiling an hour away +with his breviary, begins to nod easily as the lovely summer days +deepen in splendor. He is an old man now, yet his heart is +touched with the knowledge of God's infinite mercy as he looks +over the low wall to where the roses bloom around: the grave of +Dolores Valois.</p> +<p>He hopes to live yet to know, that gallant father and patient +mother will live over again in the happy faces of the children of +their orphaned child.</p> +<p>In the United States of America, at this particular juncture, +no happier man than Colonel and State Senator Joseph Woods can be +found. His mines are unfailing in their yield; his bachelor +bungalow, in its splendor, will extinguish certain ambitious +rivals, and he is freed from the nightmare of investigating the +tangled web of the mysterious struggle for the millions of +Lagunitas. He is confirmed in his resolve to remain a +bachelor.</p> +<p>"I have two home camps now, one in Paris and one in +California, where I am a sort of a brevet father. I won't be +lonely," Joe merrily says.</p> +<p>Joseph's cheery path in life is illuminated by his gorgeous +diamonds, and roped in with his massive watch-chains. More +precious than the gold and gems is the rough and ready manhood of +the old Argonaut. He seriously thinks of eschewing the carrying +of weapons, and abandoning social adventures, becoming staid and +serene like Father Fran‡ois.</p> +<p>He often consoles himself in his loneliness by the thought +that Henry Peyton is also a man without family. "I will capture +Peyton when he gets the young people in good shape, and they are +tired of Paris style," Joe muses. "He's a man and a brother, and +we will spend our old days in peace together."</p> +<p>One haunting, sad regret touches Colonel Joe's heart. He +learns of the intention of Natalie to spend her days in +retirement and in helping others.</p> +<p>Thinking of her splendid beauty, her daring struggle for her +friendless child's rights, and all that is good of the only woman +he ever could have desperately loved, he guards her secret in his +breast. He dare not confess to his own heart that if there had +been an honorable way, he would fain have laid his fortune at the +feet of the peerless "Queen of the El Dorado."</p> +<p>Fran‡ois Ribaut, walking the deck of the steamer, gazes +on the great white stars above him. The old man is peaceful, and +calmly thankful. The night breezes moan over the lonely Atlantic! +As the steamer bravely dashes the spray aside, his heart bounds +with a new happiness. Every hour brings the beloved France nearer +to him. Looking back at the life and land he leaves behind him, +the old priest marvels at the utter uselessness of Philip +Hardin's life. Apples of Sodom were all his treasures. His wasted +gifts, his dark schemes, his sly plans, all gone for naught. +Blindly driven along in the darkness of evil, his own hand pulled +down his palace of sin on his head. And even "French Charlie" was +avenged by the murderer's self-executed sentence. "Vengeance is +mine, saith the Lord; I will repay." The innocent and helpless +have wandered past each dark pitfall dug by the wily Hardin, and +enjoy their own. PŠre Fran‡ois, with his eyes cast +backward on his own life path, feels that he has not fought the +good fight in vain. His gentle heart throbs in sympathy, filled +with an infinite compassion for the lonely Natalie de Santos. +Sinned against and sinning. A free lance, with only her love for +her child to hallow and redeem her. Her own plans, founded in +guile, have all miscarried. Blood stains the gold bestowed on her +by Philip Hardin's death. Her life has been a stormy sea. Yet, to +her innocent child, a name and fortune have been given by the +hand of Providence. In turning away her face from the vain and +glittering world she has adorned, the chase and plaything of men, +one pure white flower will bloom from the red ashes of her dead +life. The unshaken affection of the child for whom she struggled, +who can always, in ignorance of the dark past, lift happy eyes to +hers and call her in love, by the holy name of mother. With bowed +head and thankful heart, Padre Francisco's thoughts linger around +beautiful Lagunitas. Its groves and forest arches, its mirrored +lake, its smiling beauties and fruitful fields, return to him. +The old priest murmurs: "God made Lagunitas; but man made +California what it has been."</p> +<p>A land of wild adventure, of unrighted wrongs. A land of sad +histories, of many shattered hopes. Fierce waves of adventurers +swept away the simple early folk. Lawless license, flaunting +vice, and social disorganization made its early life as a State, +one mad chaos.</p> +<p>The Indians have perished, rudely despoiled. The old Dons have +faded into the gray mists of a dead past. The early Argonauts +have lived out the fierce fever of their wild lives. To the old +individual freebooters, a new order of great corporate monopolies +and gigantic rough-hewn millionaires succeeds. There is always +some hand on the people's throat in California. Yet the star of +hope glitters.</p> +<p>Slowly, through all the foamy restless waves of transient +adventurers the work of the homebuilders is showing the dry land +decked with the olive branches of peace.</p> +<p>The native sons and daughters of the Golden West, bright, +strong, self-reliant and full of promise, are the glittering-eyed +young guardians of the Golden Gate. Born of the soil, with life's +battle to fight on their native hills, may they build around the +slopes of the Pacific, a State great in its hearths and homes. +The future shines out. The gloomy past recedes. The sunlight of +freedom sparkles on the dreamy lake of Lagunitas!</p> +<div style="height: 6em;"><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Lady of Lagunitas, by +Richard Henry Savage + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE LADY OF LAGUNITAS *** + +***** This file should be named 6011-h.htm or 6011-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/1/6011/ + + +Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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