lij trie ArmAr4 - ' ^" ^J
HENRY J. ROGERS
UK i.vA) Tin: w .\^
.1 I'lr.^t l-iDiiily
jf TdMijara
"ARGONAUT EDITION" OF
THE WORKS OF BRET HARTE
A FIRST FAMILY OF
TASAJARA
THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE
BY
BRET HARTE
ILLUSTRATED
P. F. COLLIER C3' SON
NEW YORK
Published undc tj.ecu an-athifinfut ailk
the Uuiiohon illfflni Onnpany
Copyright 1891
By BRET IIARTE
Copyright i8?6
By HOUGIITOX, ^IIFFLIX & CO.MPAXY
All rights reserved
DOlNA
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
CHAPTER I.
" It blows," said Joe Wingate.
As if to accent the words of the speaker
a heavy gi;st of wind at that moment shook
the Ioiijt: liii'ht wooden structure which served
as the general store of Sidon settlement, in
Contra Costa. Even after it had passed a
prolonged whistle came through the keyhole,
sides, antl openings of the closed glass front
doors, that served equally for windows, and
filled the canvas ceiling which hid the roof
above like a bellying sail. A wave of en-
thusiastic emotion seemed to be communi-
cated to a line of straw hats and sou-westers
suspended from a cross-beam, and swung
them with every appearance of festive rejoi-
cing, while a few dusters, overcoats, and
"hickory" shirts hanging on the side walls
exhibited such marked though idiotic ani-
mation that it had the effect of a satirical
A Bret Harte v. 22
Z A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
comment on the lazy, purposeless figures of
the four living inmates of the store.
Ned Billing's momentarily raised his head
and shoulders depressed in the back of his
wooden armchair, glanced wearily around,
said, " You bet, it 's no slouch of a storm,"
and then lapsed again with further extended
legs and an added sense of comfort.
Here the third figure, which had been
leaning listlessly against the shelves, putting
aside the arm of a swaying overcoat that
seemed to be emptily embracing him, walked
slowly from behind the counter to the door,
examined its fastenings, and gazed at the
prospect. He was the owner of the store, and
the view was a familiar one, a long stretch
of treeless waste before him meeting an equal
stretch of dreary sky above, and night hover-
ing somewhere between the two. Tliis was
indicated by splashes of darker shadow as if
washed in with india ink, and a lighter low-
lying streak that might have been the liori-
zon, but was not. To the right, on a line
with tlie front door of the store, were several
scattcired, widely dispersed objects, that, al-
though vague in outline, were ligid enougli
in angles to suggest sheds or barns, but cer-
tainly not trees.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAEA. 3
" There 's a heap more wet to come afore
the wind goes down," he said, glancing at
the sky. " Hark to that, now ! "
They listened lazily. There was a faint
murmur from the shingles above ; then sud-
denly the whole window was filmed and
blurred as if the entire prospect had been
wiped out with a damp sponge. The man
turned listlessly away.
" That 's the kind that soaks in ; thar won't
be much teamin' over Tasajara for the next
two weeks, I reckon," said the fourth lounger,
who, seated on a high barrel, was nibbling
albeit critically and fastidiously biscuits
and dried apples alternately from open boxes
on the counter. " It 's lucky you 've got in
your winter stock, Harkutt."
The shrewd eyes of Mr. Harkutt, pro-
prietor, glanced at the occupation of the
speaker as if even his foresight might have
its possible drawbacks, but he said nothing.
" There '11 be no show for Sidon until
you 've got a wagon road from here to the
creek," said Billings languidly, from the
depths of his chair. " But what 's the use
o* talkin' ? Thar ain't energy enough in all
Tasajara to build it. A God-forsaken place,
that two mouths of the year can only be
4 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
reached by a mail-rider once a week, don't
look ez if it was goin' to break its back
haulin' in goods and settlers. I tell ye what,
gentlemen, it makes me sick I " And ap-
parently it had enfeebled him to the extent
of interfering with his aim in that expectora-
tion of disgust against the stove with which
he concluded his sentence.
" Why don't you build it ? " asked Win-
gate, carelessly.
" I would n't on principle," said Billings.
" It 's gov'ment work. What did wo whoop
up things here last spring to elect Kennedy
to the legislation for ? What did I rig up
my shed and a thousand feet of lumber for
benches at the barbecue for ? Why, to get
Kennedy elected and make him get a bill
passed for the road I That 's my share of
building it, if it comes to that. And I only
wish some folks, that blow enough about
what oughter be done to bulge out that ceil-
ing, would only do as much as /have done
for Sidon."
As this remark seemed to have a per-
sonal as well as local application, the store-
keeper diplomatically turned it. " There 's
a good many as dont believe that a road
from here to the creek is going to do any
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 5
good to Sidon. It 's veiy well to say tlie
creek is au emljarcadero, but callin' it so
don't put anougli water into it to float a steam-
boat from the bay, nor clear out the reeds
and tides in it. Even if the State builds
you roads, it ain't got no call to make Tasa-
jara Creek navigable for ye ; and as that
will cost as much as the road, I don't see
where the money 's comin' from for both."
" There 's water enough in front of 'Lige
Curtis's shanty, and his location is only a
mile along the bank," returned Billings.
" AYater enough for him to laze away
his time fishin' when he 's sober, and deep
enough to drown him when he 's drunk," said
Wingate. " If you call that an embarcadero,
you kin buy it any day from 'Lige, title,
possession, and shanty thrown in, for a
demijohn o' whiskey."
The fourth man here distastefully threw
back a half-nibbled biscuit into the box, and
languidly slipped from the barrel to the floor,
fastidiously flicking tlie crumbs from his
clothes as he did so. "' I reckon somebody
'11 get it for nothing, if "Lige don't pull up
mighty soon. He "11 either go off his head
with jim-jams or jump into the creek. He 's
about as near desp"rit as they make 'em,
6 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
and havin' no partner to look after him, and
liini alone in tlie tules, ther' 's no tellin' what
he may do."
Billings, stretched at full length in his
chair, here gurgled derisively. " Desp'rit !
ketch him ! Why, that 's his little game !
He 's jist playin' off his desp'rit condition to
frighten Sidou. Whenever any one asks
him why he don't go to work, whenever he 's
hard up for a drink, whenever he 's had too
much or too little, he 's workin' that desp'rit
dodge, and even talkin' o' killin' himself !
Why, look here," he continued, momentarily
raising himself to a sitting posture in his
disgust, " it was only last week he was over
at Kawlett's trying to raise provisions and
whiskey outer his water rights on the creek !
Fact, sir, had it all written down lawyer-
like on paper. Kawlett did n't exactly see
it in that light, and told him so. Then he
up with the desp'rit dodge and began to work
that. Said if he had to starve in a swamp
like a dog he might as well kill himself at
once, and would too if he could afford the
we])pins. Johnson said it was not a Lad idea,
and offered to lend him his revolver ; Bilson
handed u}) his shot-gun, and left it alongside
of him, and turned his head away considerate-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 7
like and thoughtful while Kawlett handed
him a box of rat pizon over the counter, in
case he preferred suthin' more quiet. Well,
what did l^ige do ? Nothiu' ! Smiled
kinder sickly, looked sorter wild, and shut
up. lie did n't suicide much. No, sir !
He did n't kill himself, not he. Why, old
Bixby and he 's a deacon in good standin'
allowed, in 'Lige's hearin' and for 'Lige's
benefit, that self-destruction was better nor
bad examj)le, and proved it by Scripture
too. And yet 'Lige did notliin' ! Desp'rit !
He 's only desp'rit to laze around and fish all
day off a log in the tulcs^ and soak up with
whiskey, until, betwixt fever an' ague and
the jumps, he kinder shakes hisself free o'
responsibility."'
A long silence followed ; it was somehow
felt that the subject was incongi'uously ex-
citing ; Billings allowed himself to lapse
again behind tlie l)ack of his chair. ]Mean-
time it had grown so dark that the dull glow
of the stove was beginning to outline a faint
halo on the ceiling even while it ])lungcd the
further Ihies of shelves behind the counter
into greater obscurity.
"Time to liglit u]), llarkutt, ain't it?"
said Wingate, tentatively.
8 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
" Well, I was reckoning ez it 's such a
wild night there would n't be any use keep-
in' open, and when you fellows left I 'd just
shut np for good and make things fast,"
said llarkutt, dubiously. Before his guests
had time to fully weigh this delicate hint,
another gust of wind shook the tenement,
and even forced the nnbolted upper part of
the door to yield far enough to admit an
eager current of humid air that seemed to
justify the wisdom of Ilarkutt's suggestion.
Billings slowly and with a sigh assumed a
sitting posture in the chair. The biscuit-
nibbler selected a fresh dainty from the
counter, and Wingate abstractedly walked
to the window and rubbed the glass. Sky
and water had already disappeared behind a
curtain of darkness that was illuminated by
a single point of light the lamp in the
window of some invisible but nearer house
which threw its rays across the glistening
shallows in the road. " Well," said Win-
gate, buttoning up his coat in slow dejection,
" I reckon I oughter be travelin' to help the
old woman do the chores before supper."
He had just recognized the light in his own
dining-room, and knew by that sign that his
long-waiting helpmeet had finally done the
chores herself.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA. 9
" Some folks have it mighty easy," said
Billings, with loug-tlrawn discontent, as ho
struggled to his feet. " You 've only a step
to go, and yer 's me and Peters there "
indicating the biscuit-nibbler, who was be-
ginning to show alarming signs of returning
to the barrel again " hev got to trapse five
times that distance."
" More 'n half a mile, if it comes to that,"
said Peters, gloomily. lie paused in putting
on his overcoat as if thinking better of it,
while even the more fortunate and contigu-
ous AVingate languidly lapsed against the
counter again.
The moment was a critical one. Billings
was evidently also regretfully eying the
chair he had just quitted. Harkutt re-
solved on a heroic effort.
" Come, boys," he said, with brisk conviv-
iality, "take a parting drink with me be-
fore you go." Producing a bhiek bottle
from some obscurity boneatli the counter
that smelt strongly of india-rubber boots, he
})laced it with four glasses before his guests.
Each made a feint of holding his jiiass
against the opaque window while filling it,
although nothing could be seen. A sudden
tumult of wind and rain airaiu shook the
10 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
building, but even after it had passed the
glass door still rattled violently.
" Just see what 's loose, Peters," said Bil-
lings ; "you 're nearest it."
Peters, still holding the undrained glass
in his hand, walked slowly towards it.
" It 's suthin' or somebody outside," he
said, hesitatingly.
The three others came eagerly to his side.
Through tlie glass, clouded from within by
their breath, and filmed from without by
the rain, some vague object was moving, and
what seemed to be a mop of tangled hair
was apparently brushing against the ])ane.
Tiie door shook again, but less strongly.
Billings pressed his face against the glass.
''IIol' on," he said in a quick whisper,
" it's 'Lige I " But it was too late. Ilar-
kutt bad already drawn the lower bolt, and
a man stumbled from the outer obscurity
into the darker room.
The inmates drew awa)^ as he leaned back
for a moment against the door that closed
bebind him. Then dimly, but instinctively,
discerning the glass of licpior which Win-
gate still mcclianically held in his hand, ho
reached forward eagei-ly, took it from Win-
gate's surprised and unresisting fingers, and
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. H
ilraliied it at a gulp. The four men laughed
vaguely, but not as cheerfully as they might.
" I was just shutting up," began llarkutt,
dubiously.
" I won't keep you a minit," said the in-
truder, nervously fumbling in the breast
pocket of his hickory shirt. " It 's a matter
of business llarkutt I " But he was
obliged to stop here to wipe his face and
forehead with the ends of a loose handker-
chief tied round his throat. From the ac-
tion, and what could be seen of his pale,
exhausted face, it was evident that the moist-
ure upon it was beads of perspiration, and
not the rain which some abnormal heat of
his body was converting into vapor from
his sodden garments as he stood there.
" I 've got a document here,*' he began
again, producing a roll of paper tremblingly
from his pocket, '' that I 'd like you to glance
over, and perhaps you 'd " His voice, which
had been feverishly exalted, here broke and
rattled with a cougli.
Billings, Wingate, and Peters fell apart
and looked out of the window. " It 's too
dark to read anything now, 'Lige," said Har-
kutt, with evasive good humor, " and 1 ain't
lightin" up to-night.*'
12 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" But I can tell you the substance of it,"
said the man, with a faintness that however
had all the distinctness of a whisper, " if
you '11 just step inside a minute. It 's a
matter of importance and a bargain "
" I reckon we must be goinV' said Bil-
lings to the others, with marked emphasis.
" We 're keepin' Ilarkutt from shuttin' up."'
" Good - night ! " " Good - night ! " added
Peters and Wingate, ostentatiously following
Billings hurriedly through the door. " So
long ! "
The door closed behind them, leaving
Ilarkutt alone with his importunate intruder.
Possibly his resentment at his customers'
selfish al)andonment of him at this moment
develojjcd a vague spirit of op])osition to
them and mitigated his feeling towards 'Lige.
lie groped his way to the counter, struck a
match, and lit a candle. Its feeble rays
faintly illuminated the pale, drawn face of
tlie applicant, set in a tangle of wet, un-
kempt, party-colored hair. It was not tlie
face of an ordinary drunkard ; altliough
tremulous and sensitive from some artificial
excitement, there was no eyn/orgcment or
congestion in the features or complexion. ;d-
beit they were morbid and unhealthy. Tlie
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 13
expression was of a suffering that was as
much mental as physical, and yet in some
vague way appeared unmeaning and un-
heroic.
" 1 want to see you about selling my place
on the creek. I want you to take it off my
hands for a bargain. I want to get quit
of it, at once, for just enough to take me
out o' this. I don't want any profit; only
money enough to get away." His utterance,
which had a certain kind of cultivation,
here grew thick and harsh again, and he
looked eagerly at the bottle which stood on
the counter.
" Look here, 'Lige," said Harkutt, not
unkindly. " It 's too late to do anythin' to-
night. You come in to-morrow." lie would
have added " when you 're sober," but for
a trader's sense of politeness to a possible
customer, and probably some doubt of the
man's actual condition.
" God knows where or what I may be to-
morrow ! It would kill me to go back and
spend another night as the last, if I don't
kill myself on the way to do it."
llarkutt's face darkened grimly. It was
indeed as Billings liad said. The pitiable
weakness of the man's manner not only
14 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
made his desperation inadequate and inef-
fective, but even lent it all the cheapness of
acting. And, as if to accent his simulation
of a part, his fingers, feebly groping in his
shirt bosom, slipped aimlessly and helplessly
from the shining handle of a pistol in his
pocket to wander hesitatingly towards the
bottle on the counter.
Harkutt took the bottle, poured out a
glass of the liquor, and pushed it before his
companion, who drank it eagerly. Whether
it gave him more confidence, or his attention
was no longer diverted, he went on more
collectedly and cheerfully, and with no trace
of his previous desperation in his manner.
" Come, llarkutt, buy my place. It \s a
bargain, I tell you. I "11 sell it cheap. I
only want enough to get away with. Give
me twenty-five dollars and it 's yours. See,
there 's the papers the quitclaim all
drawn up and signed." lie drew the roll
of paper from his pocket again, apparently
forgetful of the adjacent weapon.
" Look here, "Lige," said llarkutt, with a
business-like straightening of his lips, " I
ain't buyin' any land in Tasajara, least of
all yours on the creek. I 've got more in-
vested here already than I '11 ever get back
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAJiA. 15
again. But 1 tell you what I '11 do. You
say you cant go back to your shanty.
AVell, seein' how rough it is outside, and
that the waters of the creek are probably all
over the trail l)y this time, I reckon you 're
about right. Now, there 's five dollars ! "
He laid down a coin sharply on the counter.
' Take that and go over to Kawlett's and
get a bed and some supper. In the mornin'
you may be able to strike up a trade with
somebody else or change your mind.
How did you get here? On your boss? "
-Yes."
"lie ain't starved yet?"
" No ; he can eat gTass. I can't."
Either the liquor or Ilarkutt's practical
unsentimental treatment of the situation
seemed to give him confidence, lie met
Ilarkutt's eye more steadily as the latter
went on. '"You kin turn your boss for the
night into my stock corral next to Kaw-
lett's. It '11 save you payiu' for fodder and
stablin'."
The man took up the coin with a cer-
tain slow gravity which was almost like dig-
nity. " Thank ycni," he said, laying the
paper on the counter. " I "11 leave that as
security."
16 A FIIiST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" Don't want it, 'Lige," said Ilarkutt,
pushing it back.
" I Vl rather leave it."
" But suppose you have a chance to sell
it to somebody at Rawlett's ? " continued
Harkutt, with a precaution that seemed
ironical.
" I don't think there 's much chance of
that."
Pie remained quiet, looking at Ilarkutt
with an odd expression as he rubbed the
edge of the coin that he held between his
fingers abstractedly on the counter. Some-
thing in his gaze rather perhaps the
apparent absence of anytliing in it approxi-
mate to tlie present occasion was begin-
ning^ to affect Ilarkutt with a va^^ue uneasi-
ness. Providentially a resumed onslaught
of wind and rain against the panes effected
a diversion. " Come," he said, with brisk
practicality, " you 'd better hurry on to
Kawlett's l^efore it gets worse. Have your
clothes dried by his fire, take suthin' to eat,
and you '11 be all right." He rubbed his
hands cheerfully, as if summarily disposing
of the situation, and incidentally of all
'Lige's troubles, and v/alkcd with him to the
door. Nevertheless, as the man's look re-
A FIRST FA.'iTILY OF TASA.1AUA. 17
mained uuelianged, lie hesitated a moment
with his hand on the handle, in the liope
that he would say something, even if only to
lepeat his appeal, but he did not. Then
Ilai'kntt opened the door ; the man moved
mechanically out, and at the distance of a
few feet seemed to melt into the rain and
darkness. Ilarkutt remained for a moment
with his face pressed against the glass.
After an interval he thought he heard the
faint splash of hoofs in the shallows of the
road ; he opened the door softly and looked
out.
The light liad disappeared from the near-
est house ; only an uncertain bulk of shape-
less shadows remained. Other remoter and
more vague outlines near the horizon seemed
to have a fuuei'eal suggestion of tombs and
grave mounds, and one a low shed near
the road looked not unlike a halted bioi".
lie hurriedly put up the shutters in a mo-
mentary lulling of the wind, and reentering
the store began to fasten them from within.
AVhile thus engaged an inner door behind
the counter opened softly and cautiously,
projecting a l)rigliter light into tlie deserted
apartment from some sacred domestic inte-
rior with the warm and wholesome incense
18 A FJJi.'-rr FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
of cooking. It served to introduce also the
equally agreeable presence of a young girl,
who, after assuring herself of the absence of
every one but the proprietor, idly slippe;!
into the store, and placing her rounded el-
bows, from which her sleeves were uprolled,
upon the counter, leaned lazily upon them,
with both hands supporting lier dimpled
chin, and gazed indolently at him ; so in-
dolently that, with her pretty face once fixed
in this comfortable attitude, she was con-
strained to follow his movements with her
eyes alone, and often at an uncon^fortable
angle. It was evident that she offered the
fhial but charming illustration of the enfee-
bling listlessness of Sidon.
" 80 those loafers have gone at last," she
said, meditatively. ' They '11 take root here
some day. pop. The idea of three strong
men like that lazing round for two mortal
hours doin' nothin'. AVell ! " As if to
emphasize her disgust she threw her whole
weight upon the counter by swinging her
f(;et from the floor to touch the shelves be-
hind her.
^Ir. Ilarkutt only replied by a slight
grunt as he continued to screw on the shut-
ters.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 19
" Want me to help you, dad ? " she said,
without moving.
Mr. Plarkutt muttered something* unintel-
ligible, which, however, seemed to imply a
negative, and her attention here feebly wan-
dered to the roll o paper, and she began
slowly and lazily to read it aloud.
" ' For value received, I hereby sell, as-
sign, and transfer to Daniel D. Ilarkutt all
my right, title, and interest in, and to the
undivided half of, Quarter Section 4, Range
5, Tasajara Township ' hum hum," she
murmured, running liei- eyes to the bottom
of the page. " Why, Lord ! It 's that
"Lige Curtis!" she laughed. "The idea of
him having propei-ty ! Why, dad, you ain't
been that silly ! "
"Put down that paper, miss,"" he said, ag-
grievedly ; " bring the candle here, and help
me to find one of these infernal screws that 's
dropped."
The girl indolently disengaged herself
from the counter and Elijah Curtis's trans-
fer, and brought the candle to her father.
The screw was presently found and the last
fastening secured. " Supper gcttin' cold,
dad,"' she said, with a slight yawn. Her
father sympathetically responded by stretch-
20 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
ing himself from his stooping position, and
the two passed through the private door into
inner domesticity, leaving the already for-
gotten paper lying with other articles of
barter on the counter.
CHAPTER n.
With the closing of the little door be-
hind them they seemed to have shut out the
turmoil and vibration of the storm. The
reason became apparent when, after a few
paces, they descended half a dozen steps to a
lower landing-. This disclosed the fact that
the dwelling part of the Sidon General Store
was quite below the level of the shop and
the road, and on the slope of the solitary
undulation of the Tasajara plain, a little
ravine that fell away to a brawling stream
below. The only arboreous growth of Tasa-
jara clothed its banks in the shape of wil-
lows and alders that set compactly around
the quaint, irregular dwelling which strag-
gled down the ravine and looked upon a
slo])c of bracken and foliage on either side.
The transition from the black, treeless, storm-
swept plain to this sheltered declivity was
striking and suggestive. From the opposite
bank one miglit fancy that the youthful ami
original dwelling had ambitiously mounted
22 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS A J ABA.
the crest, but, appalled at the dreary pros-
pect be^^ond, had gone no further; while
from the road it seemed as if the fastidious
proi)rietor had tried to draw a line between
the vulgar trading-post, with which he was
obliged to face the coarser civilization of
the place, and the privacy of his domestic
life. The real fact, however, was that the
ravine furnished wood and water ; and as
Nature also provided one wall of the house,
as in the well-known example of abori-
ginal cave dwellings, its peculiar construc-
tion commended itself to Sidon on the
ground of involving little labor.
Howbeit, from the two open windows of
the sitting-room which they had entered only
the faint pattering of dripping boughs and a
slight murmur from the swollen brook indi-
cated the storm that shook the upper i)lain,
and the cool breath of laurel, syringa, and
alder was wafted through the neat a])art-
ment. Passing through that })leasant I'ural
atmosphere they entered the kitchen, a much
larger room, which appeared to serve occa-
sionally as a dining-room, and where supper
was already laid out. A stout, comfortable-
looking woman who liad. liowevcr, a singu-
larly permanent expression of pained sympa-
A FIRST FAMllA' OF TASAJAUA. 23
tliy iipon her face welcomed tbeiu in tones
of gentle commiseration.
" Ah, there you be, you two ! Now sit ye
right down, dears ; do. You nuist bo tired
out : and you, Phemie, love, draw up by your
poor father. There that *s right. You '11
be better soon."
There was certainly no visible sign of
suffering or exliaustion on tlie part of either
father or daughter, nor the slightest apparent
earthly reason why they should be expected
to exhibit any. ])ut, as already intimated, it
was part of Mrs. llarkutt's generous idiosyn-
crasy to look upon all humanity as suffering
and toiling : to be petted, humored, condoled
with, and fed. It had, in the course of years,
imparted a singidarly caressing sadness to her
voice, and given her the habit of ending her
sentences with a melancholy cooing and an
unintelligible murmur of agreement. It was
undoubtedly sincere and sympathetic, but at
times inappropriat(> and distressing. It had
lost her the friendship of the one humorist of
Tasajara, whose best jokes she had received
with such heartfelt commiseration and such
paini^l appreciation of the evident labor
involved as to reduce him to silence.
Accustomed as Mr. llarkutt was to his
24 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
wife's peciiliarity, lie was not above assuming
a certain slightly fatigued attitude befitting
it. " Yes," he said, with a vague sigh,
" where 's Clemmie ? "
" Lyin' down since dinner ; she reckoned
she would n't get up to supper," she returned
soothingly. " Phemie 's goin' to take her up
some sass and tea. The poor dear child
wants a change."
" She wants to go to 'Frisco, and so do I,
pop," said Phemie, leaning her elbow half
over her father's plate. " Come, pop, say
do, just for a week."
" Only for a week," murmured the com-
miserating Mrs. Harkutt.
" Perhaps," responded Harkutt, with
gloomy sarcasm, " ye would n't mind telliu'
me how you 're goin' to get there, and where
the money 's coniin' from to take you ?
There 's no teamin' over Tasajara till the
rain stops, and no money comin' in till the
ranchmen can move their stuff. There ain't
a hundred dollars in all Tasajara ; at least
there ain't been the first red cent of it paid
across my counter for a fortnit ! Perhaps if
you do go you would n't mind takin' me and
the store along with ye, and leavin' us
there."
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 25
" Yes, deal*," said Mrs. Ilarkutt, with
sympathetic but shameless tergiversation.
" Don't bother your poor father, Phemie,
love; don't you see he's just tired out?
And you 're not eatin' anything, dad."
As Mr. Ilarkutt was uneasily conscious
that he had been eating heartily in spite of
his financial difficulties, he turned the sub-
ject abruptly. " ^^'llere 's John Milton ? "
Mrs. Ilarkutt shaded her eyes with her
hand, and gazed meditatively on the floor be-
fore the fire and in the chimney corner for
her only son, baptized under that historic
title. " He was here a minit ago," she said
doubtfully. " I really can't think where he 's
gone. But," assuringly, " it ain't far."
" He 's skipped with one o' those story-
])ooks he 's borrowed," said Phemie. " He 's
always doin' it. Like as not he 's reading
with a candle in the wood-shed. We "11 all
be burnt up some night."
" But he "s got through his chores," inter-
posed ]\lrs. Harkutt deprecatingly.
*' Yes," continued Harkutt, aggrievedly,
" but instead of goin' to bed, or addin' up
bills, or takiu' count o' stock, or even doiu'
sums or suthin' useful, he 's ruiniu' his eyes
and wastiu' his time over trash." He rose
26 A FIJiST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
and walked slowly into the sitting-room,
followed by his daughter and a murmur of
commiseration from his wife. But Mrs.
llarkutt's ministration for the present did
not pass beyond her domain, the kitchen.
" I reckon ye ain't expectin' anybody to-
night, Phemie ? " said Mr. llarkutt, sinking
into a chair, and placing his slippered feet
against the wall.
" No," said Phemie, " unless something
possesses that sappy little Parndee to make
one of his visitations. John Milton says that
out on the road it blows so you can't stand
up. It 's just like that idiot Parmlee to be
blown in here, and not have strength of mind
enough to get away again."
Mr. llarkutt smiled. It was that arch
yet approving, severe yet satisfied smile with
which the deceived male parent usually re-
ceives any depreciation of the ordinary young
man by his daughters. Euphemia was no
giddy thing to be carried away by young
men's attentions, not she ! Sitting back
comfortably in his rocking-chair, he said,
" Play something."
The young girl went to the closet and took
from the toj) .shelf an excessively ornamented
accordion, the o])ulent gift of a reckless
A FlliST FAMILY OF TASAJAUA. 27
admirer. It was so inordinately decorated,
so gorgeous in the blaze of papier inache,
niotlier-of-pearl, and tortoise-shell on keys and
keyboard, and so ostentatiously radiant in
the pink silk of its bellows that it seemed to
overawe the plainly furnished room with its
splendors. " You ought to keep it on the
table in a glass vase, Phemie," said her father
admiringly.
" And have him think I worshiped it !
Not me, indeed ! He 's conceited enough
already," she returned, saucily.
Mr. llarkutt again smiled his approbation,
then deliberately closed his ej^es and threw
his head back in comfortable anticipation of
the coming strains.
It is to be regretted that in brilliancy,
finish, and oven cheerfulness of quality they
were not u}) to the suggestions of the keys
and keyboard. The most discreet and cau-
tious eifort on the part of the young per-
former seemed only to produce startlingly
imexpected, but instantly su})})ressed com-
})laints from the instrument. accom})anied by
impatient interjections of "No, no," from the
girl herself. Nevertheless, with her pretty
eyebrows knitted in some charming distress
of memory, her little mouth lialf open be-
28 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
tween an apologetic smile and the exertion of
working the bellows, with her white, rounded
arms partly lifted up and waving before her,
she was j^leasantly distracting to the eye.
Gradually, as the scattered strains were mar-
shaled into something like an air, she began
to sing also, glossing over the instrumental
weaknesses, filling in certain dropj^ed notes
and omissions, and otherwise assisting the
ineffectual accordion with a youthful but not
unmusical voice. The song was a lugubrious
religious chant ; under its influence the house
seemed to sink into greater quiet, permitting
in the intervals the murmur of the swollen
creek to appear more distinct, and even the
far moaning of the wind on the plain to be-
come faintly audible. At last, having fairly
mastered the instrument, Pliemie got into the
full swing of the chant. Unconstrained by
any criticism, carried away by the sound of
her own voice, and perhaps a youthful love
for mere uproar, or possibly desirous to
drown her father's voice, which had unex-
pectedly joined in with a discomposing bass,
the conjoined utterances seemed to threaten
the frail structure of their dwelling, even as
the gale had distended the store behind
tliem. "When they ceased at last it was in an
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 29
accession of dii})ping from the apparently
stirred leaves outside. And then a voice,
evidently from the moist depths of the abyss
below, called out,
" Hullo, there ! "
Phemie put down the accordion, said,
" ^Vho 's that now ? " went to the window,
lazily leaned her elbows on the sill, and
peered into the darkness. Nothing was to
be seen ; the open space of dimly outlined
landscape had that blank, uncommunicative
impenetrability with which Nature always
confronts and surprises us at such moments.
It seemed to Phemie that she was the only
human being present. Yet after the feeling
had passed she fancied she heard the w^ash
of the current against some object in the
stream, half stationary and half resisting.
'' Is any one down there ? Is that you,
Mr. Parmlee ? " she called.
There was a pause. Some invisible au-
ditor said to another, " It 's a young lady."
Then the first voice rose again in a more
deferential tone : " Are we anywhere near
Sidon?''
'* This is Sidon," answered Ilarkutt, who
had risen, and was now quite obliterating his
daughter's outline at the window.
30 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" Tliauk you," said the voice. " Can we
land anywhere here, on this bank ? "
" Run down, pop ; they 're strangers," said
the girl, with excited, almost childish eager-
ness.
" Hold on," called out Harkutt, " I '11 be
thar in a moment ! " He hastily thrust his
feet into a pair of huge boots, clapped on an
oilskin hat and waterproof, and disappeared
through a door that led to a lower staircase.
Phemie, still at the window, albeit with a
newly added sense of self -consciousness, hung
out breathlessly. Presently a beam of light
from the lower depths of the house shot out
into the darkness. It was her father with a
bull's-eye lantern. As he held it up and
clambered cautiously down the bank, its rays
fell upon the turbid rushing stream, and
what appeared to be a rough raft of logs
held with diflieulty against the bank by two
men witli long poles. In its centre was a
roll of blankets, a valise and saddle-bags,
and the shining brasses of some odd-looking
instruments.
As Mr. Harkutt, supporting himself by a
willo^v brancli that overliung the current,
held up the lantern, the two men rapidly
transferred their freifrht from the raft to the
A F/KST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 31
bank, and leaped ashore. The action gave
an impulse to tlie raft, which, no longer held
in position by the poles, swung broadside to
the current and was instantly swept into the
darkness.
Not a word had been spoken, but now
the voices of the men rose freely together.
Piieniie listened with intense ex})ectation.
The explanation was simple. They were
surveyors who had been caught by the over-
flow on Tasajara plain, had abandoned their
horses on the bank of Tasajara Creek, and
with a hastily constructed raft had intrusted
themselves and their instruments to the cur-
rent. "But," said Ilarkutt quickly, "there
is no connection between Tasajara Creek and
this stream."'
The two men laughed. " There is nov',""
said one of tliem.
" But Tasajara Creek is a part of the bay,"
said the astonislied Ilarkutt. "and this stream
rises inland and only runs into the bay four
miles lower down. And I don't see how "
" You "re almost twelve feet lower here
than Tasajara Creek." said the first man,
with a certain professional authority, " and
that 's ?/'////. There *s mon; water than Ta-
sajara Creek can carry, and it 's seeking the
32 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
bay this way. Look," he continued, taking
the lantern from Harkutt's hand and casting-
its rays on the stream, " that 's salt drift
from the upper bay, and part of Tasajara
Creek 's running by your house now ! Don't
be alarmed," he added reassuringly, glancing
at the staring storekeeper. " You 're all
right here ; this is only the overflow and will
find its level soon."
But Mr. Ilarkutt remained gazing ab-
stractedly at the smiling speaker. From the
window above the impatient Phemie was
wondering why he kept the strangers waiting
in the rain while he talked about things that
were perfectly plain. It was so like a man !
" Then there 's a waterway straight to Ta-
sajara Creek ? " he said slowly.
" There is, as long as this flood lasts," re-
turned the first speaker promptly ; " and a
cuttinij through the bank of two or three
hundred yards would make it permanent.
Well, what "s the matter with that ? "
" Xothiu'," said Ilarkutt hurriedly. " I
am only consideriu' ! But come in, dry
yourselves, and take suthin'."
The light over the rushing water was with-
drawn, and the whole prospect sank back
into profound darkness. Mr. Ilarkutt had
A FIRZT FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA. 33
disappeared with his guests. Tlien there
was the familiar shuffle of his feet on the
staircase, followed by other more cautious
footsteps that grew delicately and even cour-
teously deliherate as they approached. At
which the young girl, in some new sense of
decorum, drew in her pretty head, glanced
around the room quickly, reset the tidy on
her father's chair, placed the resplendent ac-
cordion like an ornament in the exact centre
of the table, and then vanished into the hall
as Mr. Ilarkutt entered with the strangers.
Tliey were both of the same age and ap-
pearance, but the principal speaker was evi-
dently the superior of his companion, and
although their attitude to each other was
equal and familiar, it could be easily seen
that he was the leader, lie had a smooth,
beardless face, with a critical expression of
eye and mouth that might have been fas-
tidious and supercilious but for the kindly,
humorous perception that tempered it. Ilis
quick eye swept the apartniout and then
fixed itself upon tlie accordion, but a smile
lit up his face as he said quietly,
" I hope we have n't frightened the musi-
cian away. It was bad enough to have in-
terrupted the young ladv."
B Bret Harte " v. 22
DONATED GOO;^
r4ir JTI { CORPS ARA
3-4 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" No, no," said Mr. Harkutt, who seemed
to have lost his abstraction in the nervousness
of hospitality. " I reckon she 's only lookin'
after her sick sister. But come into the
kitchen, both of you, straight off, and while
you 're dry in' your clothes, mother '11 fix you
suthin' hot."
" We only need to change our boots and
stockings ; we 've some dry ones in our pack
downstairs," said the first sjwaker hesitat-
ingly.
" I '11 fetch 'em up and you can change in
the kitchen. The old woman won't mind,"
said Ilarkutt reassuringly. " Come along."
lie led the way to the kitchen ; the two
strangers exchanged a glance of humorous
perplexity and followed.
The quiet of the little room was once more
unbroken. A far-off connniserating murmur
indicated that Mrs. Ilarkutt was receiving
her guests. The cool breath of the wet
leaves witliout slightly stirred the white dim-
ity cnrtains, and somewhere from the dark-
ened eaves there was a still, somnolent drip.
Presently a hurried whisper and a lialf -laugh
appeared to be su])pressed in the outer pas-
sage or hall. Tliere was another moment of
hesitati(jn and the door opened suddenly and
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 35
ostentatiously, disclosing Pliemie, with a
tailor and slighter young woman, her elder
sister, at her side. Perceiving that the room
was empty, they both said " Oh ! " yet with
a certain artificiality of manner that was
evidently a Imgering trace of some previous
formal attitude they had assumed. Then
without further speech they each selected a
chair and a position, having first shaken out
their dresses, and gazed silently at each
other.
It may be said briefly that sitting thus
in spite of their unnatural attitude, or per-
haps rather because of its suggestion of a
photographic pose they made a striking
picture, and strongly accented their separate
peculiarities. They were both pretty, but
the taller girl, apparently the elder, had an
iileal refinement and regularity of feature
which was not only unlike Pliemie, but
gratuitously unlike the rest of her family,
and as hopelessly and even wantonly incon-
sistent with her surroundings as was the
elaborately ornamented accordion on the
centre-table. She was one of those occa-
sional ci'i^atures, e])is()(lical in the South and
West, who might liave been stamped with
some vague ante-natal impression of a mother
36 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
given to over-sentimental contemplation of
books of beauty and albums ratlier than
the family features ; offspring of tyjjical men
and women, and yet themselves incongruous
to any known local or even general type.
The long swan - like neck, tendriled hair,
swimming eyes, and small patrician head,
had never lived or moved before in Tasajara
or the AVest, nor perhaps even existed except
as a personified " Constancy," '' Meditation,"
or the "Baron's Bride," in mezzotint or
copperplate. Even the girl's common pink
print dress with its high sleeves and shoulders
could not conventionalize these original out-
lines ; and the hand that rested stifdy on the
back of her chair, albeit neither over- white
nor well kept, looked as if it had never held
anything but a lyre, a rose, or a good book.
Even the few sprays of wild jessamine which
she had placed in the coils of her waving
hair, although a local fasliion, became her as
a special ornament.
The two girls kept tlieir constrained and
artificially elaborated attitude for a few mo-
ments, accompanied by the murn^au' of voices
in the kit(;hen, the monotonous drip of the
eaves before the window. :ind the far-off
sough of the wind. Then Phemie suddenly
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 37
broke into a constrained giggle, wliicli she
however quickly smothered as she had the
accordion, and with the same look of mis-
chievous distress.
" I 'm astonished at you, Phemie," said
Clementina in a deep contralto voice, which
seemed even deeper from its restraint. " You
don't seem to have any sense. Anybody 'd
think you never had seen a stranger be-
fore."
" Saw him before you did," retorted
Phemie pertly. But here a pushing of chairs
and shuffling of feet in the kitchen checked
her. Clementina fixed an abstracted gaze
on the ceiling; Phemie regarded a leaf on
the window sill with photographic rigidity as
the door opened to the strangers and her
father.
The look of undisguised satisfaction which
lit tlie young men's faces relieved Mr.
Ilarkutt's awkward introduction of any em-
barrassment, and almost before Pliemie was
fully aware of it, she found herself talking
rapidly and in a high key with Mr. Lawrence
Grant, the surveyor, while her sister was
equally, altliough more sedately, occupied
with ]Mr. Stephen liice, his assistant. But
the enthusiasm of the strangers, and the desire
88 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS A JAR A.
to please and be pleased was so genuine and
contagious that presently the accordion was
brought into requisition, and Mr. Grant
exhibited a surprising faculty of accompani-
ment to Mr. Rice's tenor, in which both the
girls joined.
Then a game of cards with partners fol-
lowed, into which the rival parties introduced
such delightful and shameless obviousness of
cheating, and displayed such fascinating and
exaggerated partisanship that the game
resolved itself into a hilarious melee, to which
peace v/as restored only by an exhibition of
tricks of legerdemain with the cards by the
young surveyor. All of which ]Mr. Ilarkutt
supervised patronizingly, with occasional fits
of abstraction, from his rocking-chair ; and
later Mrs. Ilarkutt from her kitchen thresh-
old, wiping her arms on her apron and com-
miseratingly observing that she " declared,
the young folks looked better already."
r)ut it was here a more dangerous element
of mystery and suggestion was added by
Mr. Lawrence Grant in the telling of Miss
Eu])lu!mia"s fortune from the cards before
him, and that young lady, pink with excite-
ment, fluttered lior liUle liands not unlike
timid birds over the cards to be drawn, taking
A FIRST FAMILY OF TAHAJARA. 39
them from him with an audible twitter of
anxiety and great doubts whether a certain
" fair-haired gentleman " was in hearts or
diamonds.
" Here are two strangers," said Mr. Grant,
with extraordinary gravity laying down the
cards, " and here is a ' journey ; ' this is ' un-
expected news,' and this ten of diamonds
means ' great wealth ' to you, which you see
follows the advent of the two strangers and
is some way connected with them."
*' Oil, indeed," said the young lady with
great pertness and a toss of her head. " I
su])])osc they 've got the money with them."
'' No, though it reaches you through them,"
he answered with unflinching solemnity.
" Wait a bit, I have it I 1 see, I 've made a
mistake with tliis card. It signifies a journey
or a road. Queer ! is n't it, Steve ? It 's
the roady
' It is queer," said Rice with equal grav-
ity ; ' but it 's so. The road, sure ! " Xever-
tholess lie looked up into the large eyes of
Clementina with a certain confidential air of
truthfulness.
' You see, ladies," continued the surveyor,
appealing to them with unabashed rigidity of
feature, ' the cards don"t lie ! Luckily we
40 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
are in a position to corroborate them. The
road in question is a secret kno^yn only to us
and some capitalists in San Francisco. In
fact even they don't know that it is feasible
until lue report to them. But I don't mind
telling you now, as a slight return for your
charming hospitality, that the road is a rail-
road from Oakland to Tasajara Creek of
which we 've just made the preliminary sur-
vey. So you see what the cards mean is this :
You 're not far from Tasajara Creek ; in fact
with a very little expense your father could
connect this stream with the creek, and have
a icateru'cty straight to the railroad terminus.
That 's the wealth the cards promise ; and if
your father knows how to take a hint he can
make his fortune ! "
It was impossible to say which was the
most dominant in the face of the speaker,
the expression of assumed gravity or the
twinkling of humor in his eyes. The two
girls with superior feminine perception di-
vined that there was much truth in what he
said, albeit they did n't entirely understand
it, and what they did understand except
the man's gocd-humored motive was not
particularly interesting. In fact they were
slightly disappointed. What had promised
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 41
to be an audaciously flirtatious declaration,
and even a mischievous suggestion of mar-
riage, had resolved itself into something
absurdly practical and business-like.
Not so Mr. Ilarkutt. lie quickly rose
from his chair, and, leaning over the table,
vith his eyes fixed on the card as if it really
signified the railroad, repeated quickly :
'" Kailroad, eh ! What 's that ? A railroad
to Tasajara Creek ? Ye don't mean it !
That is it ain't a stive thing ? "
" Perfectly sure. The money is ready in
San Francisco now, and by this time next
year "
" A railroad to Tasajara Creek ! " con-
tinued Ilarkutt hurriedly. " What part of
it ? Where ? "
" At the cmharcadero naturally," re-
sponded Grant. '' Tliere is n't but the one-
place for the terminus. There "s an old
shanty there now belongs to somebody."
" Why, pop I " said Phemie with sudden
recollection, ' ain't it 'Lige Curtis's house ?
The land he offered""
" Hush ! " said liei- father.
" You know, the one written in that bit of
paper," contir.ui'd tlu' iuiKircnt Piiemie.
"Hush! will you? God A'mighty ' are
42 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
you goin' to mind me ? Are you goin' to
keep up your jabber when I 'm speakin' to
the gentlemen ? Is that your manners ?
^Vhat next, I wonder ! "
The sudden and unexpected passion of
the speaker, the incomprehensible change in
his voice, and the utterly disproportionate ex-
aggeration of his attitude towards his daugh-
ters, enforced an instantaneous silence. The
rain began to drip audibly at the window,
the rush of the river sounded distinctly from
without, even the shaking of the front jjart
of tlie dwelling by the distant gale became
perceptible. An angry flash sprang for an
instant to the young assistant's eye, but it
met the cautious glance of his friend, and
together both discreetly sought the table.
The two girls alone remained white and col-
lected. " Will you go on with my fortune,
Mr. Grant?" said Phemie quietly.
A certain respect, perhaps not before ob-
servable, was suggested in the surveyor's
tone as he smilingly replied, " Certainly, I
was only waiting for you to show your con-
fidence in me," and took up the cards.
Mr. llarkutt coughed. "It looks as if
that blamed wind liad blown suthin' loose in
the store," he said affectedly. " 1 reckon
.1 r/R>ST FA.U/Ly OF TASAJARA. 4^3
I '11 go and see." He hesitated a luonicut
and then disappeared in the passage. Yet
even here he stood irresolute, looking at tlie
closed door behind him, and passing his hand
over his still flushed face. Presently he
slowly and abstractedly ascended the flight
of steps, entered the smaller passage that
led to the back door of the shop and opened
it.
lie was at first a little startled at the halo
of light from the still glowing stov^e, whicli
the greater obscurity of t!:e long room liad
heightened rather than diuiinishcd. Then
he })assod behind the counter, but here the
box of biscuits which occupied the centre
and cast a shadow over it compelled him to
grope vaguely for what he sought. Then
he sto]i])ed suddenly, the paper he had just
found (lro])ping from his fingers, and said
sharj)ly,
^' Who's there'?"
"Me, pop."
'-John :\Iilton?"
" Yes, sir."
" AVhat the devil arc you doin' there,
sir ? "
'' Itcadin'."
It was true. The boy was half rccliuing
44 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASA.TARA.
in a most distorted posture on two chairs, his
figure in deep shadow, but his book was
raised above his head so as to catch the red
glow of the stove on the printed page.
Even then his father's angry interruption
scarcely diverted his preoccupation ; he
raised himself in his chair mechanically,
with his eyes still fixed on his book. Seeing
which his father quickly regained the paper,
but continued his objurgation.
" How dare you ? Clear off to bed, will
3"0u ! Do you hear me ? Pretty goin's on,"
he added as if to justify his indignation.
" Sneakin' in here and and lyin' 'round
at this time o' night ! ^Vhy, if I had n't
come in hero to "
" What ? " asked the boy mechanically,
catching vaguely at the unfinished sentence
and staring automatically at the paper in his
father's hand.
"Nothin', sir! Go to bed, I tell you!
Will 3"ou ? Wliat are you standin' gawpin'
at ? " continued Ilarkutt furiously.
Tlio boy regained his feet slowly and
passed his father, biit not without noticing
with the same listless yet ineffaceable per-
ception of cliildliood that lie was hurriedly
concealing the paper in his pocket. With
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 45
the same youthful incousequence, wondering
at this more than at the interruption, which
was no novel event, he went slowly out of
the room.
llarkutt listened to the retreating tread
of liis bare feet in the passage and then
carefully locked the door. Taking the paper
from his pocket, and borrowing the idea he
had just objurgated in his son, he turned it
towards the dull glow of the stove and at-
tempted to read it. But perhaps lacking
the patience as well as the keener sight of
youtli, he was forced to relight the candle
which he had left on the coimter, and repe-
rused the pajier. Yes I there was certainly no
mistake I Here was the actual description
of tlie ])voperty which the surveyor had just
indicated as the future terminus of the new
railroad, and here it was conveyed to him
Daniel llarkutt! What wa,s that? Some-
body knocking ? What did this continual
interruption mean? An odd superstitious
fear now mingled with his irritation.
The sound ap])cared to come from the
front shutters. It suddenly occurred to iiim
tliat tlie light miglit be visible tlirough the
crevices. He hurriedly extinguished it, and
went to the door.
46 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
"Who's there?"
" Me, Peters. Want to speak to you."
Mr. Harkutt with evident reluctance drew
the bolts. The wind, still boisterous and
besieging, did the rest, and precipitately pro-
pelled Peters through the carefully guarded
opening. But his surprise at finding him-
self in the darkness seemed to forestall any
explanation of his visit.
" Well," he said with an odd mingling of
reproach and suspicion. " I declare I saw
a light here just this minit ! That "s queer."
" Yes, I put it out just now. I was goin'
away," replied Harkutt, with ill-disguised
impatience.
" What I been here ever since ? "
" Xo," said Harkutt curtly.
" Well, I want to speak to ye about 'Lige.
Seein' the candle shinin' through the chinks
I thought he might be still with ye. If ho
ain't, it looks bad. Light up, can't ye ! 1
want to show you something."
There was a peremptoriness in his tone
that struck Harkutt disagreeably, but observ-
ing that he was carrying something in his
hand, he somewdiat nervously re-lit the can-
dle and faced him. Peters had a hat in his
hand. It was 'Lige's 1
A FIIi.ST FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA. 41
" "Bout an hour after we fellers left liere,"
said Peters, " 1 heard the rattliii' of hoofs
on the road, and then it seemed to stop just
by my house. I went out with a lantern,
and, darn my skin ! if there war n't 'Lige's
hoss, the saddle empty, and Lige nowhere !
I looked round and called him but no-
thing were to be seen. Thinkin' he miglit
have slipped off tho' ez a general rule
drunken men don't, and he is a good rider
I followed down the road, lookin' for him.
1 kept on follerin' it down to your run, half
a mile below."
''But," began Ilarkutt, with a cpiiek ner-
vous laugh, ** you don't reckon that because
of that he "'
"Hold on!" said Peters, grimly pi^oduc-
ing a revolver from his side-pocket with the
stock and barrel clogged and streaked with
mud. ' 1 found titat too, and look ! one
barrel discharged ! And," he added hur-
riedly, as approaching a climax, " look ye,
what I nat'rally took for wet from the
rain inside that hat was blood ! "
'"Nonsense!" said Ilarkutt, putting the
hat aside with a new fastidiousness. " You
don't thiidv"
"' 1 think,'" said Peters, lowering his voice.
48 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
"I think, by God! he 's hin and done
it!''
"No!"
" Sure ! Oil, it 's all very well for Bil-
lings and the rest of that conceited crowd to
sneer and sling their ideas of 'Lige gen'rally
as they did jess now here, but I 'd like 'em
to see ihatr It was difficult to tell if Mr.
Peters' triumphant delight in confuting his
late companions' theories had not even
usurped in his mind the importance of the
news he brought, as it had of any human
sympathy with it.
" Look here," returned Ilarkutt earnestly,
yet with a singularly cleared brow and a
more natural manner. " You ought to take
them things over to Squire Kerby's, right
off, and show 'em to him. You kin tell him
how you left 'Lige here, and say that I can
prove by my daughter that he went away
about ten minutes after, at least, not more
than fifteen." Like all unprofessional hu-
manity, Mr. Ilarkutt had an exaggerated
conception of the majesty of unimportant
detail in the eye of the law. " I 'd go with
you myself," he added quickly, "but I've
got company strangers here."
" IIow did lie look wlien he left, kinder
wild*^" suggested Peters.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA. 49
Ilarkutt had begun to feel the prudence
of present reticence. " Well," he said, cau-
tiously, '^you saw how he looked."
" You was n't rough with him ? that
might have sent him oft", you know," said
Peters.
" No," said Harkutt, forgetting himself in
a quick indignation, " no, I not only treated
him to another drink, but gave him " he
stopped siuldenly and awkwardly.
"Eh?" said Peters.
"Some good advice, you know," said
Ilarkutt, hastily. " But come, you 'd bet-
ter hurry over to the squire's. You know
you 've made the discovery ; yoiir evidence
is important, and there 's a law that obliges
you to give information at once."
The excitement of discovery and the tri-
umph over his disputants being spent, Peters,
after the Sidon fashion, evidently did not
relish activity as a duty. " You know," he
said dubiously, " he might n't be dead, after
aU."
Ilarkutt became a trifle distant. " You
know your own opinion of the thing,'" he
replied after a pause. " You 've circumstan-
tial evidence enough to see the squire, and
set others to work on it; and," he added
50 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
significantly, " you 've done your share then,
and can wipe your hands of it, eh? "
" That 's so," said Peters, eagerly. " I '11
just run over to the squire."
" And on account of the women folks, you
know, and the strangers here, 1 11 say nothin'
about it to-night," added Harkutt.
Peters nodded his head, and taking up the
hat of the unfortunate Elijah with a certain
hesitation, as if he feared it had already lost
its dramatic intensity as a witness, disap-
peared into the storm and darkness again.
A lurking gust of wind lying in ambush
somewhere seemed to swoop down on him as
if to prevent further indecision and whirl him
away in the direction of the justice's house ;
and Mr. Ilarkutt shut tlie door, bolted it,
and walked aimlessly back to the counter.
From a slow, deliberate and cautious man,
he seemed to have changed within an hour
to an irresolute and capricious one. He took
the paper from his pocket, and, unlocking
the money drawer of his counter, folded into
a small compass that which now seemed to
be the last testament of Elijah Curtis, and
])laeed it in a recess. Then he went to the
back door and paused, then returned, re-
opened the mou'jy diawer, took out the
A FIIL-^r FA.\f!Ly OF TASA.IARA. 51
paper and again buttoned it in Lis liip
pocket, standing by the stove and staring
abstractedly at the dull glow of the fire.
lie even went through the mechanical pro-
cess of raking down the ashes, solely to
gain time and as an excuse for delaying
some other necessary action.
lie was thinking what he should do. Had
the cpiestion of his right to retain and malvc
use of that paper been squarely offer('d to
him an hour ago, he would without doubt
have decided that he ought not to keep it.
Even now, looking at it as an abstract prin-
ciple, he did not deceive himself in the least.
But Nature has the reprehensible ha])it of
not })resenting these questions to us squarely
and fairly, and it is remarkable that in
most (-)f our offending the abstract principle
is never the direct issue. islv. liarlcutt
w\as conscious of having been unwillingly
led step by step into a difficult, not to say
dishonest, situation, and against his own
seeking. He had never asked Elijah to sell
him the property ; he had distinctly declined
it : it had even been forced upon him as se-
curity for the })itta]U'c he so freely gave him.
This })rovcd (to himself) that he himself
was honest ; it was only the circumstances
62 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
tliLit were queer. Of course if Eli j all had
lived, he, Harkutt, might have tried to drive
some bargain with him before the news of
the railroad survey came out for that was
only business. But now that Elijah was
dead, who would be a penny the worse or
better but himself if he chose to consider the
whole thing as a lucky speculation, and his
gift of fiv^e dollars as the price he paid for
it? Nobody coidd think that he had calcu-
lated upon 'Lige's suicide, any more than
that the property would become valuable.
In fact if it crane to that, if "Lige had really
contemplated killing himself as a hopeless
bankrupt after taking Ilarkutt's money as
a loan, it was a swindle on his Ilarkutt's
good-nature. He worked himself into a
rage, which he felt was innately virtuous, at
this tyranny of cold principle over his own
warm-hearted instincts, but if it came to the
/.7?/;, he 'd stand by law and not sentiment.
He'd just let them by which he vaguely
liieaut the world, Tasajara, and possibh; his
own corisciencc see tliat he Vwi;-; n't a senti-
mcntfd fool, and lie M freeze on to that pa})er
and lliat property !
(^nly he ought lo have spolccn out before.
IIo oiiglit to have told the surveyor at once
A FlJiST FAMILY OF TASA.IARA. 53
that lie <)^\^lO(l the land. lie ought to have
said: " Why, that 's my laiul. I bought it
of tli:it drunken 'Ligc Curtis for a song and
out of charity." Yes, that was the only real
trouble, and that came from his own good-
ness, his own extravagant sense of justice
and right, his own cursed good-nature.
Yet, on second thoughts, he did n't know
why he was obliged to tell the surveyor.
Time enough when the company wanted to
buy the land. As soon as it was setthnl that
"Lige was dead he "d openly claim tlic pro}^-
crty. But what if he Vvas n't dead ? or they
could n't find his body ? or he had orJy dis-
appeared ? Ilis plain, matter-of-fact face
contracted and darkened. Of course he
could n't ask the company to wait for him to
settle that point. lie had the jiower to dis-
pose of the property under that paper, and
he should do it. If "Lige turned uj), tliat
v/as another matter, and he and Lige could
ari'angc it between tlicm. lie was quite arm
here, and oddly enough quite relieved in
getting rid of what a])peared only a simple
([uestion of detail. He never suspected that
lie was contemplating the one irretrievable
ste]), and summarily dismissing the whole
ethical question.
54 A FIRST FAMILY OF TA,SAJAIiA.
He turned away from tlie stove, oj^ened
the back door, and walked with a more de-
teriinned step through the passage to the
sitting-room. But here he halted again on
the threshold with a quick return of his old
habits of caution. The door was slightly
open ; apparently his angry outbreak of an
hour ago had not affected the spirits of his
daughters, for he could hear their hilarious
voices mincrlinff with those of the stran<rers.
They were evidently still fortune-telling, but
this time it was the prophetic and divining
accents of Mr. liice addressed to Clemeutina
whicli were now plainly audible.
" 1 see heaps of money and a great many
friends in the change that is coming to you.
Dear me I how many suitors I But I cannot
promise you any marriage as brilliant as my
friend has just offered your sister. You
may be certain, however, that you '11 liave
your own choice in this, as you have in all
things."
" Thank you for nothing," said Clemen-
tina's voice. "But what are those horrid!
black cards beside them? that's trouble,
I 'm sure."
" Not for you. thougli near you. Perhaps
some one you don't care much for and don't
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 55
understand will have a heap of troul)l(3 on
your account, yes, on account of these very
riches ; see, he follows the ten of diamonds.
It may be a suitor ; it may be some one now
in the house, perhaps."
" He means himself, Miss Clementina,"
struck in Grant's voice laughingly.
'' You 're not listening. Miss Ilarkutt,"
said Rice with half-serious reproach. " Per-
haps you know who it is ? "
But Miss Clementina's reply was simply a
hurried recognition of her father's pale face
that hero suddenly confronted her with the
opening door.
"Why, it's father!"
CHAPTER III.
In his strange mental condition even the
change from Ilarkutt's feeble candle to the
outer darkness for a moment blinded Elijah
Curtis, yet it was part of that mental condi-
tion that he kept moving- steadily forward as
in a trance or dream, though at first pur-
poselessly. Then it occurred to him that he
was really looking for his liorse, and that the
animal was not there. This for a moment
confused and frightened him, first with tlio
supposition that he had not brought him at
all, but that it was part of his delusion ;
secondly, with the conviction that without
his horse he could neither proceed on the
course suggested by Ilarkutt, nor take
another more vague one that was dimly in
his mind. Yet in his hopeless vacillation it
seemed a relief that now neither was practi-
cable, and that lie need do notliing. Per-
haps it was a mysterious })rovidence !
The exphination, however, was much
sim])ler. The hoVse liad been taken by the
A yiJiST FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA. 57
luxurious and indolent Billings unknown to
his companions. Ov^ercome at the dreadful
l)rospect of walking- home in that weather,
this perfect product of lethargic Sidon had
artfully allowed Peters and Wingate to pre-
cede him, and, cautiously unloosing the
tethered animal, had safely j^assed them in
the darkness. AVhen he gained his own in-
closure he had lazily dismounted, and, with
a sharp cut on the mustang's Iiaunches, sent
him galloping back to rejoin his master, with
what result has been already told by the un-
suspecting Peters in the 2)receding cha})ter.
Yet no conception of this possibility en-
tered 'Lige Curtis's alcoholized conscious-
ness, part of whose morbid ])hantasy it was
to distort or exaggerate all natural phenom-
ena, lie had a vague idea that he could not
go back to Harkutt's ; already his visit
seemed to have happened long, long ago,
and could not be re})eated. He would walk
on, cnwra]iped in this uncom})romising dark-
ness whicli concealed everything, suggested
everything, and was responsible for every-
thing.
It was very dark, for the wind, having
hdled, no longer thinned the veil of clouds
above, nor dissipated a steaming mist that
68 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AH AJAR A.
appeared to rise from the sodden plain.
Yet he moved easily through the darkness,
seeming to be ujjheld by it as something
tangible, upon which he might lean. At
times he thought he heard voices, not a
particular voice he was thinking of, but
strange voices of course unreal to his
})resent fancy. And then he heard one of
these voices, unlike any voice in Sidon, and
very faint and far off, asking if it " was an}--
where near Sidon ? " evidently some one
lost like himself. lie answered in a voice
that seemed quite as unreal and as faint, and
turned in the direction from which it came.
There was a lio-ht moviui? like a will-o'-the-
wis}) far before him, yet below him as if
coming out of the depths of the earth. It
must be fancy, but he would see ah !
He had fallen violently forward, and at
the same moment felt his revolver leap from
his breast pocket like a living thing, and an
instant after explode upon the rock where it
struck, blindingly illuminating the declivity
down which he was plunging. The sulphur-
ous sting of burning powder was in his eyes
and nose, yet in that swift revealing flash he
had time to clutch the stems of a trailing
vine beside him, but not to save his head
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 59
from sharp contact with the same rocky
ledge that had caught his pistol. The pain
and shock gave way to a sickening sense of
warmth at the roots of his hair. Giddy
and faint, his fingers relaxed, he felt himself
sinking, with a languor that was half acqui-
escence, down, down, until, with another
shock, a wild gasping for air, and a swift re-
action, he awoke in the cold, rushing water !
Clear and perfectly conscious now, though
frantically fighting for existence with the
current, he could dimly see a floating black
object shooting by the shore, at times strik-
ing the projections of the bank, until in its
recoil it swung half round and drifted broad-
side on towards him. lie was near enough
to catch the frayed ends of a trailing rope
that fastened the structure, which seemed to
be a few logs, together. With a convul-
sive effort he at last gained a footing upon
it, and then fell faintinij alonir its lenofth.
It was the raft which the surveyors from the
emharcadcro had just abandoned.
He did not know this, nor would he have
thought it otherwise strange that a raft
might be a part of the drift of the overflow,
even had he been entirely conscious : but liis
senses were failing, though he was still able
60 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAEA.
to keep a secure position on the raft, and to
vaguely believe that it would carry him to
some relief and succor. How long he lay un-
conscious lie never knew ; in his after-recol-
lections of that night, it seemed to have been
haunted by dreams of passing dim banks
and strange places ; of a face and voice that
had been pleasant to him ; of a terror com-
ing upon him as he appeared to be nearing a
place like that home that he had abandoned
in the lonely tules. lie was roused at last by
a violent headache, as if his soft felt hat had
been changed into a tightening crov/n of iron.
Lifting his hand to his head to tear olf its
covering, he was surprised to find that he
wa;; wearing no hat, but that his matted hair,
stiffened and dried with blood and ooze, was
clinging like a cap to his skull in the hot
morning sunlight. His eyelids and lashes
were glued together and weighted down by
the same sanguinar}^ plaster. He crawled to
the edge of his frail raft, not without difft-
culty, for it oscillated and rocked strangely,
and dipjK'd his hand in tlie current. AVhen
he had cleared his eyes he lifted them witli a
slioeli of amazement. Creeks, banks, and
p>lain liad disappeared ; he was alone on a
bend of the tossing bay of San Francisco !
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAUA. Gl
His first and only sense cleared by fast-
ing and quickened by reaction was one of
infinite relief. lie was not only free from
the vague terrors of the preceding days and
nights, but his whole past seemed to be lost
and sunk forever in this illimitable expanse.
.he low plain of Tasajara, with its steadfast
monotony of light and shadow, had sunk b(!-
neath another level, but one that glistened,
sparkled, was instinct with varying life, and
moved and even danced below him. The
low palisades of regularly recurring tulcs that
had fenced in, impedetl, but never relieved
tlie blankness of his horizon, were forever
swallowed up behind him. All trail of past
degradation, all record of pain and suffering,
all foot})rints of his wandering and misguided
feet were smoothly wiped out in that ol)lit-
erating sea. lie was physically hel})lcss,
and he felt it ; he was in danger, and he
knew it, but he was free !
Hap])ily there was but little wind and the
sea was slight. The raft was still intact so
far as he could judge, but even in his igno-
rance he knew it would scarcely stand the
surges of tlie lower bay. Like most Cali-
foruians who liad passed the straits of
Carquinez at night in a steamer, he did not
62 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
recognize the locality, nor even the distant
peak of Tamalpais. There were a few
dotting sails that seemed as remote, as
uncertain, and as unfriendly as sea birds.
The raft was motionless, almost as motion-
less as he was in his cramped limbs and sun-
dried, stiffened clothes. Too weak to keep
an upright position, without mast, stick,
or oar to lift a signal above tliat vast ex-
panse, it seemed impossible for him to
attract attention. Even his pistol was
gone.
Suddenly, in an attempt to raise himself,
he was struck by a flasli so l)linding that
it seemed to pierce his aching eyes and brain
and turned him sick. It appeared to come
from a crevice between the logs at the fur-
tlier end of the raft. Creeping painfully
towards it he saw that it was a triangular
sli]i of highly polished metal that he liad
hitherto overlooked. He did not know that
it was a "flashing" mirror used in topogra-
pliical observation, which had slipped from
t]i(! surveyors' instruments when they aban-
doned the raft, l)ut liIs excited faculties in-
stinctively detected its value to him. He
llficd It. and, lacing the sun. raised it at
different anules v>itli his feclde arms. But
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. G3
the effort was too much for him ; the raft
presently seemed to be whirling with his
movement, and he again fell.
" Ahoy there ! "
The voice was close upon in his very
ears. lie opened his eyes. The sea still
stretched emptily before him ; the dotting
sails still unchanged and distant. Yet a
strange shadow lay upon the raft. He
turned his head with difficulty. On the op-
posite side so close upon him as to be al-
most over his head the great white sails
of a schooner hovered above him like the
wings of some enormous sea bird. Then
a heavy boom swung across the raft, so low
that it would have swept him away had he
been in an upright position ; the sides of
the vessel grazed the raft and she fell slowly
off. A terrible fear of abandonment took
possession of him ; he tried to speak, but
could not. The vessel moved further away,
but the raft followed ! He could see now it
was being held by a boat-hook, could see
the odd, eager curiosity on two faces that
were raised above the taffrail, and witli tliat
sense of relief his eyes again closed in un-
consciousness.
G-i A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
A feeling o chilliness, followed by a grate-
ful sensation of drawing closer under some
warm covering, a stinging taste in his mouth
of fiery liquor and the aromatic steam of hot
coffee, were his first returning sensations.
His head and neck were swathed in coarse
bandages, and his skin stiffened and smart-
ing with soap. He was lying in a rude
berth under a half -deck from which he could
see the sky and the bellying sail, and pres-
ently a bearded face filled with rough and
practical concern that peered down upon him.
" IIulloo ! comin' round, eh? Hold on ! "
The next moment the stranger had leaped
down beside Elijah, He seemed to be an
odd minfrling' of the sailor and rancliero
with the shrev/dness of a seaport trader.
"IIulloo, boss! What was it? A free
fight, or a wash-out ? "
" A wash-out ! " ^ Elijah grasped the
idea as an inspiration. Yes, his cabin had
been inundated, he had taken to a raft,
had becai knocked off twice or thrice, and
had lost everytliing even his revolver !
The man looked relieved. " Then it ain't
^ A niinin<j term for the temporary inundation of a
claim l)y flood ; also used for tlio sterilizing effect of flood
on fertile soil.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAHA. 65
a free fight, nor havin' your crust busted
and bein' robbed by beach combers, eh ? "
" No," said Elijah, with his first faint
smile.
" Glad o' that," said the man bluntly.
" Then thar ain't no police business to tie
up to in 'Frisco ? We were stuck thar a
week once, just because we chanced to pick
up a feller who 'd been found gagged and
then thrown overboard by wharf thieves.
Had to dance attendance at court thar and
lost our trip." He stopped and looked half-
pathetically at the prostrate Elijah. " Look
yer ! ye ain't just dyin' to go ashore now and
see yer friends and send messages, are ye ? "
Elijah shuddered inwardly, but outwardly
smiled faintly as he replied, " No ! "
" And the tide and wind jest scrvin' us
now, ye would n't mind keepin' straight on
with us this trip ? "
" Where to ? " asked Elijah.
" Santy Barbara."
"No," said Elijah, after a moment's
pause. " I "11 go with you."
The man leaped to his feet, lifted his head
above the u})per deck, sliouted " Let her go
free, Jerry I " and then turned gratefully to
his passenger. " Look yer ! A wash-out is
C Bret liarte v. 22
66 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
a wash-out, I reckon, put it any way you
like ; it don't put anything back into the
land, or anything back into your pocket
afterwards, eh ? No ! And yer well out of
it, pardner ! Now there 'b a right smart
chance for locatin' jest back of Santy Bar-
bara, where thar ain't no God-forsaken tulen
to overflow ; and ez far oz the land and
licker lies ye ' need n't take any water in
yours ' ef ye don't want it. You kin start
fresh thar, pardner, and brail up. What 's
the matter with you, old man, is only fever
'n' agur ketched in them tulin^ ! I kin see
it in your eyes. Now you hold on whar
you be till 1 go forrard and see everything
taut, and then 1 "11 come back and we '11
have a talk,"
And they did. The result of which was
that at the end of a week's tossing and sea-
sickness, Elijuli Curtis was landed at Santa
l)arl)ara, pale, thin, but self-contained and
resolute. And having found favor in the
eyes of the skipper of the Kitty ll;n\]v,
general trader, lumber-dealer, and ranch-
man, a we(;k later he was located on tlic
skip])er's land and installed in the skip])er"s
service. And from that day, for five years
Sidon and Tasajara knew him no more.
CHAPTER IV.
It was part of tlio functions of John
Milton Harkutt to take down the early
morning- shutters and sweep out the store for
his father each day before going to school.
It was a peculiarity of this performance that
he was apt to linger over it, partly from the
fact that it put off the evil hour of lessons,
partly that he imparted into the process a
purely imaginative and romantic element
gathered from his latest novel-reading. In
this ho was usually assisted by one or two
school-fellows on their way to school, who
always envied him his superior menial occu-
pation. To go to school, it was felt, was a
connnon calamity of boyhood that called into
})lay only the simplest forms of evasion,
whereas to take down actual shutters in a
hona fide store, and wield a real broom that
raised a palpal)le cloud of dust, was some-
tliing that really taxed the noblest exertions.
And it was the morning after the arrival of
the strangers that John Milton stood on the
()8 A FJJiST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
veranda of the store ostentatiously examin-
ing the horizon, with his hand shading his
eyes, as one of his companions appeared.
" Hollo, Milt ! wot yer doin' ? "
John Milton started dramatically, and then
violently dashed at one of tlie shutters and
began to detach it. " Ha ! " he said hoarsely.
'' Clear the ship for action ! Open the
ports ! On deck there ! Steady, you lub-
bers ! " In an instant his enthusiastic school-
fellow was at his side attacking another
shutter. " A long, low schooner bearing
down upon us ! Lively, lads, lively ! " con-
tinued John Milton, desisting a moment to
take another dramatic look at the distant
plain. " How does she head now?" he de-
manded fierce;!}'.
" Sou' by sou'east, sir," responded the
other boy, frantically dancing before the
window. " But she '11 weather it."
They each then wrested another shutter
away, violently depositing them, as they ran
to and fro, in a rack at the corner of the
veranda. Added to an extraordinary and
unnecessary clattering with their feet, they
accom])ani(Hl their movements with a singular
hissing sound, supposed to indicate in one
breath the fury of the elements, the bustle
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAJiA. 69
of the eager crew, and the wild excitement
of the e()uiiii<^ conflict. When the last shut-
ter was cleared away, John Milton, with the
cry " Man the starboard guns ! " dashed into
the store, whoso floor was marked by the
muddy footprints of yesterday's buyers,
seized a broom and began to sweep violently.
A cloud of dust arose, into which his com-
panion at once precipitated himself with
another broom and a loud hung ! to indicate
the somewhat belated sound of cannon. For
a few seconds the two boys plied their brooms
desperately in that stifling atmosphere,
accompanying each long sweep and puff o.*^
dust out of the open door with tlie report of
explosions and loud Ju/s ! of defiance, until
not only the store, but the veranda was ob-
scured with a cloud which the morning sun
struggled vainly to pierce. In the midst of
this tumult and dusty confusion happily
unheard and unsuspected in the secluded do-
mestic interior of the building a shrill
little voice arose from the road.
" Think you 're mighty smart, don't
ye-"
The two naval heroes stopped in their
imaginary fury, and, as the dust of conflict
cleared away, recognized little Johnny Peters
70 A FIRUT FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
gazing at them with mingled inquisitiveness
and envy.
" Guess ye don't know what happened
down the run last night," he continued im-
patiently. " 'Lige Curtis got killed, or killed
hisself ! Blood all over the rock down thar.
Seed it, myseff. Dad picked up his six-
shooter, one barrel gone off. My dad was
the first to fmd it out, and he 's bin to Squire
Kerby tellin' him."
The two companions, albeit burning with
curiosity, affected indifference and pre-
knowledge.
"Dad sez your father druv 'Lige outer the
store lass night ! Dad sez your father 's
'sponsible. Dad sez your father cz good ez
killed him. Dad sez the squire '11 set the
constable on your father. Yah ! " But
here the small insulter incontinently fled,
pursued by both the boys. Nevertheless,
wlien he had made good his escape, John
IVIilton showed neither a disposition to take
up lii.s former nautical role, nor to follow his
companion to visit the sanguinary scene of
Klijah"s disappearance, lie walked slowly
back to the store and contiimed his work of
swee})!ng and putting in order with an al)-
stracted regularity, and no trace of his
former exuberant spirits.
A FIIiST FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA. 71
The first one of those instinctive fears
which are conunon to imaginative children,
and often assume the functions of premoni-
tion, had taken possession of him. The
oddity of his father's manner the evening be-
fore, which had only half consciously made
its indelible impression on his sensitive fancy,
had recurred to him with Johnny Peters's
speech, lie had no idea of literally accept-
ing the boy's charges ; he scarcely under-
stood their gravity ; but he had a miserable
feeling that his father's anger and excitement
last night was because he had been dis-
covered hunting in the dark for that paper
of 'Lige Curtis's. It tvas 'Lige Curtis's
])a})er, for he had seen it lying there. A
sudden dreadful conviction came over him
that he must never, never let any one know
that he had seen his father take up that
])aper ; that he must never admit it, even to
Iiim. It was not the boy's first knowledge of
that attitude of hypocrisy which the gi'own-
u}) world assumes towards childhood, and in
whicli the innocent victims eventually acqui-
esce with a iNIachiavellian subtlety that at
last avenges them, but it was his first
knowledge that tliat hy})0('risy might not
be so innocent. His father had concealed
72 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
something from him, because it was not
right.
But i childhood does not forget, it seldom
broods and is not above being diverted. And
the two surveyors of whose heroic advent
in a raft John Milton had only heard that
morning with their traveled ways, their
strange instruments and stranger talk, cap-
tured his fancy. Kept in the background by
his sisters when visitors came, as an unpre-
sentable feature in the household, he however
managed to linger near the strangers when,
in company with Euphemia and Clementina,
after breakfast they strolled beneath the
sparkling sunlight in the rude garden in-
closm-e along the sloping banks of the creek.
It was with tlie average brother's supreme
contempt that he listened to his sisters'
" practicin' " upon the goodness of these
superior beings ; it was with an exceptional
pity that he regarded the evident admiration
of the strangers in return. lie felt that in
tlie case of Euphemia, who sometimes
evinced a laudable curiosity in his pleasures,
and a flattering ignorance of his reading,
this might be pardonable ; but what any one
could find in the useless statuesque Clemen-
tina passed his comprehension. Could they
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 73
uot st'o at once that she was " just that kind
of person " who would lie abed in the morn-
ing-, })rutending she was sick, in order to make
Pheniie do the housework, and make him,
John Milton, clean her boots and fetch things
for her ? Was it not perfectly plain to them
that her present sickening politeness was
solely with a view to extract from them
caramels, rock-candy, and gum drops, which
she would meanly keep herself, and perhaps
some " buggy-riding " later ? Alas, John
Milton, it was not ! For standing there with
her tall, perfectly -proportioned figure out-
lined against a willow, an elastic branch of
which she had drawn down by one curved
arm above her head, and on which she leaned
as everybody leaned against something in
Sidon the two young men saw only a stray-
ing goddess in a glorified rosebud print.
Whether the clearly-cut profile presented to
Rice, or the full face that captivated Grant,
each suggested possibilities of position, pride,
poetry, and passion that astonished while it
fascinated them. By one of those instincts
known only to the freemasonry of the sex,
Euphemia lent herself to this advertisement
of her sister's charms by subtle comparison
witli lier own ])rettinesses, and thus com-
bined against their common enemy, man.
74 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" Clementina certainly is perfect, to keep
her supremacy over that pretty little sister,"
thought liice.
" What a fascinating little creature to
hold her own against that tall, handsome
girl," thought Grant.
" They 're takin' stock o' them two fellers
so as to gabble about 'em when their backs
is turned," said John Milton gloomily to
himself, with a dismal premonition of the
prolonged tea-table gossip he would be
obliged to listen to later.
" We were very fortunate to make a land-
ing at all last night," said Rice, looking
down upon the still swollen current, and
then raising his eyes to Clementina. " Still
more fortunate to make it where we did. I
suppose it must have been the singing that
lured us on to the bank, as, you know, the
sirens used to lure peo^ile, only with less
disastrous consequences."
John ]\Iilton here detected three glaring
errors ; first, it was not Clementina who had
sung ; secondly, he knew that neither of his
sisters liad ever read anything about sirens,
but lie liad : tliirdh', that the young surveyor
was glaringly ignorant of local phenomena
and should be corrected.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASA.IARA. 75
"It's notliin' but the current,' lie said,
with that feverish youthful haste that be-
trays a fatal experience of impending inter-
ruption. " It 's always leavin' drift and
rubbish from everywhere here. There ain't
anythin' that 's chucked into the creek above
that ain't bound to fetch up on this bank.
Why, there was two sheep and a dead boss
here long- afore you thought of coming ! "
lie did not understand why this should pro-
voke the laughter that it did, and to prove
that he had no ulterior meaning, added with
pointed politeness, ''So it is nt your faulty
you know //o?/- could n't help it ; " supple-
menting this with the distinct courtesy,
" otherwise you would n't have come."
" But it would seem that your visitors are
not all as accidental as your brother would
imply, 'ind one, at least, seems to have been
ex])ected last evening. You remember you
thought we were a Mr. Parmlee," said Mr.
Rice looking ;it Clementina.
It would be sti'auge indeed, he thought, if
the beautiful girl were not surrounded by
admirers. But without a trace of self-con-
sciousness, or any cliange in her n^poseful
face, she indicated her sister with a sliglit
(gesture, and said : " One of Phemie's
76 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
friends. He gave her the accordion. She 's
very popular."
" And I suppose you are very hard to
please ? " he said with a tentative smile.
She looked at him with her large, clear
eyes, and that absence of coquetry or
changed expression in her beaixtiful face
which might have stood for indifference or
dignity as she said : " I don't know. I am
waiting to see."
But here jSIiss Plicmie broke in saucily
with the assertion that ]Mr. Parmlee might
not have a railroad in his pocket, but that
at least he did n't have to wait for the Flood
to call on young ladies, nor did he usually
come in pairs, for all the world as if he had
been let out of Xoali's Ark, but on horse-
back and like a Christian by the front door.
All this provokingly and bewitchingly deliv-
ered, however, and with a simulated exag-
geration that was incited apparently more
by Mr. Lawrence Grant's evident enjoyment
of it. than by any desire to defend the ab-
sent Parmlee.
" Put where is the front door ? " asked
Grant Laugliingly.
The young girl pointed to a narrow zig-
zag path that ran up the bank beside the
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 77
house until it stopped at a small picketed
gate on the level of the road and store.
" But I should think it would be easier to
have a door and private passage through the
store," said Grant.
" We don't," said the young lady pertly,
" we have nothing to do with the store. I
go in to see paw sometimes when he 's shut-
ting up and there 's nobody there, but Clem
has never set foot in it since we came. It 's
bad enough to have it and the lazy loafers
that hang around it as near to us as they
are ; but paw built the house in such a fash-
ion that we ain't troubled by their noise, and
we might be t' other side of the creek as far
as our having to come across them. And be-
cause paw has to sell pork and flour, we have
n't any call to go there and watch him do it."
The two men glanced at each other. This
reserve and fastidiousness were something:
rare in a pioneer comnumity. Ilarkutt's
manners certainly did not indicate that he
was troubled by this sensitiveness ; it must
have been some individual temperament of
his daughters. Ste])heu felt his respect in-
crease for the goddess-like Clementina ;
Mr. Lawrence Grant looked at Miss Phemie
with a critical smile.
78 A FIEST FAMILY OF TASAJAKA.
" But you must be very limited in your
company," he said; "or is Mr. Parmlec not
a customer of your father's ?
"As Mr. Parmlee does not come to us
through the store, and don't talk trade to
me, we don't know," responded Phemie sau-
cily.
" But have you no lady acquaintances
neighbors who also avoid the store and
enter only at the straight and narrow gate
up there ? " continued Grant mischievously,
regardless of the uneasy, half-reproachful
glances of Pice.
But Phemie, triumphantly oblivious of
any satire, answered promptly : " If you
mean the Pike County Billingses who live
on the turnpike road as much as they do off
it, or the six daughters of that Georgia
Cracker who wear men's boots and hats, we
have n't."
" And IMr. Parmlee, your admirer ? " sug-
gested Pice. " lias n't he a mother or sis-
ters here ? "
" Yes, but they don't want to know us,
and have never called here."
The embarrassment of the questioner at
this unexpected re])ly, which came from the
faultless lips of Clementina, was somewhat
A FJJiST t'AMlLY OF TAHA.IAUA. "9
mlti^'atcd by the fact that tlie young' wo-
luair.s voice and manner betrayed neither
annoyance nor anger.
Here, however, Ilarkutt appeared from
the liouse with the information that he had
secured two horses for the surveyors and
their instruments, and that lie would liim-
self accompany them a part of the way on
their return to Tasajara Ci'oek, to show thera
the road. His usual listless deliberation
had given way to a certain nervous but un-
easy energy. If they started at once it
would be better, before the loungers gath-
ered at the store and confused them with
lazy counsel and languid curiosity. He took
it for granted that Mr. Grant wished the
railroad survey to be a secret, and he had
said nothing, as they would ])e pestered with
questions. " Sidou was inquisitive and
old-fashioned."' The benefit its inhabitants
would get from tiio railroad would not pre-
vent them from throwing obstacles in its
way at first ; he remembered the way they
had acted with a proposed wagon road, in
fact, an idea of his own. something like the
railroad ; ho knew tliem thoroughly, and if
he might advise them, it would be to say
nothing here until the thing was settled.
80 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" lie evidently does not intend to give us
a chance," said Grant good-huraoredly to his
companion, as they turned to prepare for
their journey ; " we are to be conducted in
silence to the outskirts of the town like
horse-thieves."
" But you gave him the tip for himself,"
said Rice reproachfully ; " you cannot blame
him for wanting to keep it."
" I gave it to him in trust for his two in-
credible daughters," said Grant with a gri-
mace. " But, hang it ! if I don't believe
the fellow has more concern in it than I
imagined."
" But is n't she perfect ? " said Rice, with
charming abstraction.
"Who?"
" Clementina, and so unlike her father."
" Discoraposingly so," said Grant quietly.
"One feels in calling her 'Miss Harkutt '
as if one were touching upon a manifest in-
discretion. But here comes John Milton.
Well, my lad, what can I do for you ? "
The boy, who had been regarding them
from a distance with wistful and curious
eyes as they replaced their instruments for
the journey, had gradually approached them.
After a moment's timid hesitation he said,
A FIIiST FAMILY OF TABAJARA. 81
looking at Grant : " You don't know any-
body in this kind o' business," pointing to
the instruments, " who 'd like a boy, about
my size ? "
" I 'm afraid not, J. M.," said Grant,
cheerfully, without suspending his operation.
" The fact is, you see, it 's not exactly the
kind of work for a boy of your size."
.John Milton was silent for a moment, shift-
ing himself slowly from one leg to another
as he watched the surveyor. After a pause
he said, " There don't seem to be much show
in this world for boys o' my size. There
don't seem to be much use for 'em any way."
This not bitterly, but philosophically, and
even politely, as if to relieve Grant's rejec-
tion of any incivility.
" Keally you quite pain me, John Milton,"
said Grant, looking up as he tightened a
buckle. " I never thought of it before, but
you 're right."
" Now," continued the boy slowly, " with
girls it 's just different. Girls of my size
everybody does things for. Tliere 's Clemmy,
she s only two years older nor me, and
don't know half tliat i do, and yet she kin
lie about all day, and has n't to get up to
breakfast. And Pliemie, who 's jest the
82 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
same age, size, and weight as me, maw and
paw lets her do everything she wants to.
And so does everybody. And so would
you."
" But you surely don't want to be like a
girl ? " said Grant, smiling.
Ifc here occurred to John Milton's youth-
ful but not illogical mind that this was not
argument, and he turned disappointedly
away. As his father was to accompany the
strangers a short distance, he, John ISIilton,
was to-day left in charge of the store. That
duty, however, did not involve any pecuniary
transactions the taking of money or mak-
ing of change but a simple record on a
slate behind the counter of articles selected
by those customers whose urgent needs could
not wait Mr. Ilarkutt's return. Perhaps on
account of this degrading limitation, perhaps
for other reasons, the boy did not fancy the
task imposed upon him. The presence of
the itlle lovmgcrs who usually occupied the
armchairs near the stove, and occasionally
the counter, dissipated any romance with
whicli ho miglit have invested his charge ;
he wearied of the monotony of tlieir dull
gossij), but mostly he loatlicd tlie attitude of
hypercritical counsel and instruction which
A FIRST F.UflLV OF TAS.UARA. 83
tliey saw fit to assume towards him at such
moments. " Instead o' lazin' thar behind
the counter when your father ain't here to
see ye, elohn," remarked Billings from the
depths of his armchair a few moments after
Ilarkutt had ridden away, "ye orter be
bustlin' round, dustin' the shelves. Ye '11
never come to anythiu' when you 're a man
ef you go on lilce that. Ye never heard o'
Harry Clay that was called 'the Mill-boy
of the Slashes ' sittin' down doin' nothin'
when he was a boy."
" I never heard of him loafin' round in a
grocery store when he was growned up
either," responded John JMilton, darkly.
" P'r'aps you reckon he got to be a great
man by standin' up sassin' his father's cus-
tomers," said Peters, angrily. " I kin tell
ye, young man, if you was my boy "
" If I was >/(jur hoy, I 'd be playin' hookey
instead of goiu' to school, jest as your boy
is doin' now," interrupted John Milton, with
a literal recollection of his quarrel and pur-
suit of the youth in rpiestion that morning.
An undignified silence on the part of the
adults followed, the usual sequel to those
])assages ; Sidon generally declining to ex-
pose itself t() tlie youthful Ilarkutt's terrible
accuracy of statement.
84 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
The men resumed their previous lazy gos-
sip about Elijah Curtis's disappearance, with
occasional mysterious allusions in a lower
tone, which the boy instinctively knew re-
ferred to his father, but which either from
indolence or caution, the two great conserva-
tors of Sidon, were never formulated dis-
tinctly enough for his relentless interfer-
ence. The morning sunshine was slowly
thickening again in an indolent mist that
seemed to rise from the saturated plain. A
stray lounger shuffled over from the black-
smith's shop to the store to take the place
of another idler who had joined an equally
lethargic circle around the slumbering forge.
A dull intermittent sound of liammering came
occasionally from the wheelwright's shed
at sufficiently protracted intervals to indi-
cate the enfeebled progress of Sidon's vehi-
cular repair. A yellow dog left his patch
of sunlight on the opposite side of the way
and walked deliberately over to what aj)-
peared to be more luxurious quarters on the
veranda ; was manifestly disajipointed but
not equal to the exertion of returning, and
sank down witli blinking eyes and a re-
gretful sigh without going further. A pro-
cession of six ducks got well into a line
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 85
for a laborious " march jiast " the store, but
fell out at the first mud i)udcUe and gave it
up. A highly nervous but respectable hen,
who had ventured upon the veranda evi-
dently against her better instincts, walked
painfully on tiptoe to the door, apparently
was met by language which no mother of a
family could listen to, and retired in strong
hysterics. A little later the sun became
again obscured, the wind arose, rain fell, and
the opportunity for going indoors and doing
nothing was once more availed of by all
Sidon.
It was afternoon when Mr. Harkutt re-
turned, lie did not go into the store, but
entered the dwelling from the little picket-
gate and steep path. There he called a
family council in the sitting-room as being
the most reserved and secure. jMrs. Har-
kutt, sympathizing and cheerfully ready for
any affliction, still holding a dust-cloth in
her hand, took her seat by the window, with
Phemic breathless and sparkling at one side
of her, while Clementina, all faultless profile
and repose, sat on the other. To Mrs. II ar-
kutt's motherly concei'u at John jVlilton's
absence, it was pointed out that he was
wanted at the store, was a mere boy any-
86 .1 FIRUT FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
how, and could not be trusted. Mr. Har-
kutt, a little ruddier from weather, excite-
ment, and the unusual fortification of a glass
of liquor, a little more rugged in the lines
of his face, and with an odd ring of defiant
self-assertion in his voice, stood before them
in the centre of the room.
lie wanted them to listen to him care-
fully, to remember what he said, for it was
important ; it might be a matter of " law-
ing " hereafter, and he could n't be always
repeating it to them, he would have
enough to do. There was a heap of it that,
as women-folks, they could n't understand,
and were n't expected to. But he 'd got it
all clear now, and what he was saying was
gospel. He 'd always known to himself
that the only good that could ever come to
Sidon would come by railroad. When those
fools talked wagon road he had said nothing,
but he had his own ideas ; he had worked
for that idea without saying anything to
anybody ; that idea was to get possession of
all the land along the emharcadero^ which
nobody cared for, and 'I.-igc Curtis was ready
to sell for a song. Well, now, considering
what had ha])pened, he did n't mind telling
them that he had been gradually getting
A FHiST FA.)nLY OF TASA.IAHA. 87
|)OSScssion of It, little by little, paying 'liige
Curtis in adv^ances and Installments, until it
was his own ! They had heard what those
surveyors said ; how that it was the only fit
terminus for the railroad. Well, that land,
and that water-front, and the terminus were
his/ And all from his own foresight and
prudence.
It is needless to say that this was not the
truth. ]3ut it is necessary to point out that
this fabrication was the result of his last
night's cogitations and his morning's experi-
ence, lie had resolved upon a bold course.
lie had reflected that his neighbors would
be more ready to believe in and to respect a
hard, mercenary, and speculative foresight
in his taking advantage of 'Lige's necessities
than if he had as was the case merely
benefited by them through an accident of
circumstance and good humor. In the lat-
ter case he would be envied and hated ; in
the foi'mer he would be envied and feared.
By logic of circunistance tlic greater wrong
seemed to be less obviously offensive than
the minor fault. It was true that it involved
tlie doing of something lie had not contem-
plated, and tlio certainty of exposure if
'Lifje ever returned, but he was nevertheless
88 A F/IiST FAMILY OF T AS A J ABA.
resolved. The step from passive to active
wrong-doing is not only easy, it is often a
relief ; it is that return to sincerity which
we all require. Howbeit, it gave that ring
of assertion to Daniel Harkutt's voice al-
ready noted, which most women like, and
only men are prone to suspect or challenge.
The incompleteness of his statement was, for
the same reason, overlooked by his feminine
auditors.
"And what is it worth, dad?" asked
Phemie eagerly.
" Grant says I oughter get at least ten
thousand dollars for the site of the terminus
from the oomiisinj, but of course I shall hold
on to the rest of the land. The moment
they get the terminus there, and the dei:)ot
and wharf built, I can get my own price and
buyers for the rest. Before the year is out
Orant thinks it ought to go up ten per cent
on the value of the terminus, and that a
hundred thousand."
" Oh, dad I " gasped Phemie, frantically
clas})ing her knees with both hands as if to
perfectly assure herself of this good fortune.
Mrs. Ilarkutt audibly murmured "Poor
dear Dan'l," and stood, as it were, sympa-
thetically by, ready to commiserate the pains
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 89
and anxieties of wealth as she had those of
poverty. Clementina alone remained silent,
clear-eyed, and unchanged.
'' And to think it all came through them/ "
continued Phemie. " I always had an idea
that Mr. Grant was smart, dad. And it
was real kind of him to tell you."
" I reckon father could have found it out
without them. I don't know why we should
be beholden to them particularly. I hope
he is n't expected to let them think that
he is bound to consider them our intimate
friends just because they happened to drop
in here at a time when his plans have suc-
ceeded."
The voice was Clementina's, unexpected
but quiet, imemotional and convincing. " It
seemed," as Mrs. Harkutt afterwards said,
" as if the child had already touched that
hundred thousand." Phemie reddened with
a sense of convicted youthful extravagance.
" You need n't fear for me," said llarkutt,
responding to Clementina's voice as if it
were an echo of his own, and instinctively
recognizing an unexpected ally. "I 've got
my own ideas of tliis thing, and what 's to
come of it. 1 've got my own ideas of
openiu' up that pro})erty and showin' its re-
90 A FIIiST FAMILY OF TASAJAEA.
sources. I 'm goiii' to run it my own way.
I 'm goin' to have a town along the enibar-
cudero that '11 lay over any town in Contra
Costa. I 'm goin' to have the court-house
and county seat there, and a couple of hotels
as good as any in the Bay. I 'm goin' to
build that wagon road through here that
those lazy louts slipped up on, and carry it
clear over to Five Mile Corner, and open up
the whole Tasajara Plain ! "
They had never seen him look so strong,
so resolute, so intelligent and handsome.
A dimly prophetic vision of him in a black
broadcloth suit and gold watch-chain ad-
dressing a vague multitude, as she remem-
bered to have seen the Hon. Stanley Kiggs
of Alasco at the ''Great Barbecue," rose be-
fore Phemie's blue enraptured eyes. With
the exception of Mi-s. Harkutt, equal to
any possibilities on the part of her husband,
they had honestly never expected it of
him. They were pleased with their father's
attitude in prosperity, and felt that perhaps
he was not unworthy of being proud of them
hereafter.
'' But we 're goin' to leave Sidon," said
Phemie, "ain"t we, paw?"
" As soon as I can run up a new house at
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASA.fAHA. 91
the emhdrcadero,'" said Ilarkntt pccvislily,
" and that 's got to bo done mighty quick if
I want to make a show to the company and
be in possession."
" And that 's easier for you to do, dear,
now that Lige 's disappeared," said Mrs.
1 larkutt consolingly.
" What do ye mean by that ? What the
devil are ye talkin' aljout ? " demanded Ilar-
kutt suddeidy witli unexpected exasperation.
' I mean that that drunken 'Ligo would
be mighty poor company for tlie girls if he
was our only neighbor,"' returned Mrs. Ilar-
kntt submissively.
Ilarkntt, after a fixed survey of his wife,
appeared mollified. The two girls, who were
mindful of hi.-; previous outburst the evening
before, exchanged glances which implied that
his manners needed correction for prosperity.
" You "11 want a heap o' money to build
there, Dan"l,'" said Mrs. Ilarkutt in plain-
tive diffidence.
" Yes ! Yes ! " said Ilarkutt impatiently.
" I 've kalkilated all that, and I 'm goiu' to
'Frisco to-morrow to raise it and put this
bill of sale on record."" lie half drew
Elijali Curtis's pa]ier from his pocket, but
paused and put it back again.
92 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" Then that was the pai)er, dad," said
Pheraie triumphantly.
" Yes," said her father, regarding her fix-
edly, " and you know now why I did n't
want anything said about it last night
nor even now."
" And 'Lige had just given it to you !
Wasn't it lucky?"
" lie had nt just given it to me ! " said
her father with another unexpected out-
burst. " God Amighty ! ain't I tellin' you
all the time it was an old matter I But you
jabber, jabber all the time and don't listen !
Where 's John Milton? " It had occurred to
him that the boy might have read the paper
as his sister had while it lay unheeded
on the counter.
" In the store, you know. You said he
was n't to hear anything of this, but I '11
call him," said IMrs. Ilarkutt, rising eagerly.
" Never mind," returned her husband,
stopping her reflectively, " best leave it as it
is ; if it 's necessary I '11 tell him. But don't
any of you say anything, do you hear ? "
Nevertheless a few hours later, when the
store was momentarily free of loungers, and
Ilarkutt liad relieved his son of his mono-
tonous charge, he made a pretense, while
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 93
abstractedly listening to an account of the
boy's stewardship, to look through a drawer
as if in search of some missing article.
" You did n't see anything of a paper I left
somewhere about here yesterday ? " he asked
carelessly.
" The one you picked up when you came
in last night ? " said the boy with discompos-
ing directness.
Harkutt flushed slightly and drew his
breath between his set teeth. Not only
could he place no reliance upon ordinary
youthful inattention, but he must be on his
guard against his own son as from a spy !
But he restrained himself.
" I don't remember," he said with affected
deliberation, " what it was I picked up. Do
you ? Did you read it ? "
The meaning of his father's attitude in-
stinctively flashed upon the boy. He had
read the pa])er, but he answered, as he had
already deti.'rmined, '" No."
An inspiration seized Mr. Ilarkutt. lie
drew Lige Curtiss bill of sale from his
})0cket, and opening it before John Milton
said. " Was it that ? "'
" I don't know."' said the boy. " I
could n't tell.'' He walked away with
94 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAEA.
affected carelessness, already with a sense of
playing some part like his father, and pre-
tended to whistle for the dog across the street.
Harkutt coughed ostentatiously, put the
paper back in his pocket, set one or two
boxes straight on the counter, locked the
drawer, and disappeared into the back pas-
sage. John iSIilton remained standing in the
doorway looking vacantly out. But ho did
not see the dull familiar prospect beyond.
lie only saw the paper his father had opened
and unfolded before him. It was the same
paper he had read last night. But there
were three words written there that vere ?ioi
there before ! After the words " Value re-
ceived " there had been a blank. He remem-
bered that distinctly. This was filled in by
the words, '" Five hundred dollars." The
handwriting did not seem like his father's,
nor yet entirely like 'Lige Curtis's. AVhat
it meant he did not knov/, he would not
try to think. He should forget it, as he had
tried to forget what had happened before,
and he should never tell it to any one !
Tliere was a feverish gayety in his sisters'
manner tliat afternoon that he did not under-
stand : short colloquies that were suspended
with ill concealed impatience when he came
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAKA. 95
near them, and resumed when he was sent,
on C(|ually palpable excuses, out of the room.
He had been accustomed to this exclusion
when there were strangers present, but it
seemed odd to him now, when the conversa-
tion did not even turn upon the two superior
visitors who had been there, and of whom he
confidently expected they would talk. Such
fragments as he overheard were always in
the future tense, and referred to what they
intended to do. His mother, whose affection
for liim had always been shown in excessive
and depressing commisei'ation of him in even
his lightest moments, that afternoon seemed
to add a prophetic and Cassandra-like sym-
patliy for some vague future of his that
would require all her ministration. " You
won't need them new boots, ]\Iilty deai', in
the changes that may be eomin' to ye ; so
don't be botliering your poor father in his
worriments over his new plans."'
' AVhat new plans, monnner ? " asked the
boy abruptly. " Are we goiu' away from
here?"
'Hush, dear, and don't ask questions
tliat 's enough for gi'own folks to worry over,
let alone a boy like you. Now be good,"
a quality in Mrs. Harkutts mind synony-
96 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
mous with ceasing from troubling, " and
after supper, while I 'm in the parlor with
your father and sisters, you kin sit up here
by the fire with your book."
" But," persisted the boy in a flash of in-
spiration, " is poi)per goin' to join in busi-
ness with those surveyors, a survey in' ? "
"^o, child, what an ideal Run away
there, and mind I don't bother your
father."
Nevertheless John Milton's inspiration had
taken a new and characteristic shape. All
this, he reflected, had happened since the
surveyors came since they had weakly
displayed such a shameless and unnumly
interest in his sisters ! It could have but
one meaning. lie hung around the sit-
ting-room and passages until lie eventually
encountered Clementina, taller than ever,
evidently wearing a guilty satisfaction in
her face, engrafted upon that habitual bear-
ing of hers which he had always recognized
as belonging to a vague but objectionable
race whose mem))ers were individually known
to liim as '' a proudy."
AVhich of those two surveyor fellows is
it, Clemmy ? " he said witli an engaging
smile, yet halting at a strategic distance.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA. 97
"Is what?"
" Wot you 're goin' to marry."
" Idiot : "
" That ain't tellin' which," responded the
boy darkly.
Clementina swept by him into the sitting-
room, where he heard her declare that " really
that boy was getting too low and vulgar for
anything." Yet it struck him, that being
pressed for further explanation, she did not
specify why. This was " girls' meanness ! "
Ilowbeit he lingered late in the road that
evening, hearing his father discuss with the
search-party that had followed the banks of
the creek, vainly looking for further traces
of the missing 'Lige, the possibility of his
being living or dead, of the body having
been carried away by the (,'urrent to the bay
or turning up later in some distant marsh
when the spring came with low water. One
who had been to his ca])in beside the emhar-
caderi) reported that it was, as had been
long suspected, barely habitable, and con-
tained neither books, papers, nor records
which would indicate his family or friends.
It was a God-forsaken, dreary, worthless
place ; lie wondered how a wliite man could
ever expect to make a living there. If
D l]i-cl Ilarte v. 22
98 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAEA.
Elijah never turned up again it certainly
would be a long time before any squatter
would think of taking possession of it. John
Milton knew instinctively, without looking
up, that his father's eyes were fixed upon him,
and he felt himself constrained to appear to
be abstracted in gazing down the darkening
road. Then he heard his father say, with
what he felt was an equal assumj:>tion of care-
lessness : " Yes, I reckon I 've got somewhere
a bill of sale of that land that I had to take
from 'Lige for an old bill, but I kalkilate
that 's all I '11 ever see of it."
Rain fell again as the darkness gathered,
but he still loitered on the road and the
sloping path of the garden, filled with a h;df
resentful sense of wrong, and hugging with
gloomy pride an increasing sense of loneli-
ness and of getting dangerously wet. The
swollen creek still whispered, murmured and
swirled beside the bank. At another time
he might have had wild ideas of emulating
the surveyors on some extempore raft and so
escaping his })resent dreary home existence ;
but since the disappearance of 'Lige, who had
always excited an odd boyish anti2)athy in
his lieart, altliough ho had never seen him,
he shunned the stream contaminated with the
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 99
missing- man's unheroic fate. Presently the
light from the open window of tlie sitting-
room glittered on the wet leaves and sprays
where he stood, and the voices of the family
conclave came fitfully to his ear. They
did n't want him there. They had neve^"
thought of ask'ing him to come in. Well !
who cared ? ^Vnd he was n't going to be
bought off with a candle and a seat by the
kitchen fire. No !
Nevertheless he was getting wet to no
purpose. There was the tool-house and
carpenter's shed near the bank ; its floor was
thickly covered with sawdust and pine-wood
shavings, and ther(i was a mouldy buffalo
skin which he had once transported thither
from the old wagon-bed. There, too, was
his Fecret cache of a candle in a bottle,
buried with other piratical treasures in the
presence of tlio youthful Peters, who con-
sented to bo sacrificed on the spot in bucca-
neering fashion to complete the unhallowed
rites. lie unearthed the candle, lit it, and
clearing away a ])art of the shavings stood it
up on the floor. He tlicn brought a prized,
battei'od. and coverlcss volume froma hiddsMi
recess in the rafters, and lying down with the
buffalo robe over hiui. and his cap in liis
100 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAJiA.
hand ready to extinguish the light at the
first footstep of a trespasser, gave himself
up as he had given himself up, I fear,
many other times to the enchantment of
the page before him.
The current whispered, murmured, and
sang, unheeded at his side. The voices of
his mother and sisters, raised at times in
eagerness or expectation of the future, fell
upon his unlistening ears. For with the
spell that had come upon him, the mean
walls of his hiding-place melted away ; the
vulvar stream beside him miffht have been
that dim, subterraneous river down which
Sindbad and his bale of riches were swept
out of the Cave of Death to the sunlight of
life and fortune, so surely and so sim2)ly had
it transported liim beyond the cramped and
darkened limits of his present life. He
was in the better world of boyish romance,
of gallant deeds and high emprises ; of
miraculous atonement and devoted sacrifice ;
of brave men, and tliose rarer, impossible
women, the immaculate conception of a
boy's virgin heart, ^^'llat mattered it that
lifcliind that glittering wiiidow his mother
and sisters grew feverish and excited over
the vulgar details of their real but baser for-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 101
tune ? From the dark tool - shed by the
muddy current, John Milton, with a bat-
tered dogs'-eared chronicle, soared on the
wings of fancy far beyond their wildest
ken I
CHAPTER V.
PROSrERiTY had settled upon the plains
of Tasajara. Not only had the enibarcadero
emerged from the tides of Tasajara Creek
as a thriving town of steamboat wharves,
warehouses, and outlying mills and facto-
ries, but in five years the transforming rail-
road had penetrated the great jilain itself
and revealed its undeveloped fertility. Tlie
low-lying lands that had been yearly over-
flowed by the creek, now drained and culti-
vated, yielded treasures of wheat and barley
that were apparently inexhaustible. Even
tlie he]})less indolence of Sidon had been
surprised into activity and change. Tlicre
w;is nothing left of the straggling settlement
to I'ccall its former aspect. Tlie site of
Ihnl-cutt's old store and dwelling was lost
and forgotten in the new mill and granary
that rose along the banks of tlie creek. De-
cay leaves ruin and traces for the memory to
liiiger over ; })!'()s|)L'rity is uni\'lcnting in its
complete and smiling obliteration of the past.
A F/IiST FAMILY OF TASAJAKA. 103
But Tasajara Clt}'-, as the cmhdrcadero
was now eallDcl, had no previous record, and
even the former existence of an actual set-
tler like tlie forgotten Elijah. Curtis was un-
known to the present inhabitants. It was
Daniel Ilarkutt's idea carried out in Daniel
Harkutt's iajid, with Daniel Ilarkutt's capi-
tal and energy. But Daniel Ilarkutt had
become Daniel Ilarcourt, and llarcourt Ave-
nue, Harcourt Square, and Ilarcourt House,
ostentatiously proclaimed the new spelling
of his patronymic. When the change v/as
made and for what reason, who suggested it
and under what authority, were not easy to
determine, as the sign on his former store
had borne nothing but the legend. Goods
and Provisions^ and his name did not ap-
pear on written record until after the occupa-
tion of Tasajara ; but it is presumed that it
was at the instigation of his daughters, and
there was no one to oppose it. Ilarcourt
was a pretty name for a street, a square, or
a hotel ; even the few in Sidon who had
called it Ilarkutt admitted that it was an
improvement qiute consistent with the
change from the fever-haunted tides and
sedges of the creek to tlio broad, level, and
handsome squares of Tasajara City.
104 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
This might have been the opinion of a vis-
itor at the Ilarcourt House, who arrived one
summer afternoon from the Stockton boat,
but whose shrewd, half-critical, half-profes-
sional eyes and quiet questionings betrayed
some previous knowledge of the locality.
Seated on the broad veranda of the Harcourt
House, and gazing out on the well-kept
green and young eucalyptus trees of the
Ilarcourt Square or Plaza, he had elicited
a counter question from a prosperous-look-
ing citizen who had been lounging at his side.
" I reckon you look ez if you might have
been here before, stranger."
" Yes," said the stranger quietly, " I have
been. But it was when the tules grew in
the square opposite, and the tide of the
creek washed them."
" AVell," said the Tasajaran, looking curi-
ously at the stranger, " I call myself a pio-
neer of Tasajara. My name 's Peters, of
Peters and Co., and those warehouses
along the wharf, where you landed just now,
are mine ; but I was the first settler on Har-
court's land, and built the next cabin after
him. I helped to clear out them Uilcs and
dredged the channels yonder. I took the
contract with Ilarcourt to build the last fif-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 105
teen miles o' railroad, and put up that depot
for the company. Perhaps you were here
before that ? "
" I was," returned the stranger quietly.
" I say," said Peters, hitching his chair a
little nearer to his companion, " you never
knew a kind of broken-down feller, called
Curtis 'Lige Curtis who once squatted
here and sold his right to Ilarkutt? He
disappeared ; it was allowed he killed his-
self, but they never found his body, and, be-
tween you and me, I never took stock in
that story. You know Ilarcourt holds under
him, and all Tasajara rests on that title."
" I 've heard so," assented the stranger
carelessly, " but I never knew the original
settler. Then Ilarcourt has been lucky ? "
" You bet. lie 's got three millions right
about Jicre^ or within this quarter section, to
say nothing of his outside speculations."
'" And lives here? "
" Xot for two years. That \s his old house
across the plaza, but his women-folks live
mostly in "Frisco and New York, where he "s
got houses too. They say they sorter got
sick of Tasajara after his youngest daughter
ran off witli a fellei-.'"
" Hallo I " said the stranger with undis-
lOG A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
guise d interest. " I never heard of that !
You don't mean that she eloped " he hesi-
tated.
" Oh, it was a squai'e enough marriage.
I reckon too square to suit some folks ; but
the fellow had n't nothiu', and was n't worth
shucks, a sort of land surveyor, doin' odd
jobs, you know ; and the old man and old
woman were agin it, and the tother daughter
worse of all. It was allowed here you
know how women-folks talk ! that the sur-
veyor had been sweet on Clementina, but
had got tired of being played by her, and
took up with Pliemie out o' spite. Any-
how they got married, and liarcourt gave
them to understand they coiddn't expect
anything from him. P'raps that 's why it
did n't last long, for only about two months
ago she got a divorce from Kice and came
back to her family again."
" liice ? "' queried the stranger. " Was
that her husband's name, Stephen llice?"
" J reckon I You knew him ? "
" Yes, when the tide came tip to the
tules, yonder,"' answered the stranger mus-
ingly. " And the other daughter, I sup-
pose she has made a good match, being a
beauty and the sole heiress? "
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAllA. 107
The Tasiijaran made a <(riinaee. " Not
niuoli ! 1 reckon slie 's waitin' for the Angel
Gabriel, tliere ain't another good cnougli
to suit her here. They say she "s had most
of the big men in California waitin' in a
lino with their offers, like that cue the fel-
lows used to make at the 'Frisco post-otiice
steamer days and she with naiy a letter
or fuiswer for any of tliem."
'" Then Ilarcourt does n't seem to have
been as fortunate in his family affairs as in
his speculations? "
Peters uttered a grim laugh. "Well, I
reckon you know all about his son's stam-
peding with that girl last spring ? "'
" His son ? *' interruptid the stranger.
" Do you mean the boy they called John
IMilton ? Why, he was a mere child I "
"He was old enougji to run away with a
young woman that helped in his mother's
house, and marry her afoi'O a justice of the
peace. The old man just snorted with rage,
and swore he "d have tlie marriage put aside,
for the boy was under a^e. He said it was
a put-up job of the gli'l's : tli.'it she was oldei"
by two years, and oidy wanted to get wliat
money might be conun' some day, but tliat
they 'd iiovex' see a red cent of it. Then, they
108 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
say, John Milton up and sassed the old man
to his face, and allowed that he would n't
take his dirty money if he starved first, and
that if the old man broke the marriage he 'd
marry her again next year ; that true love
and honorable poverty were better nor riches,
and a lot more o' that stuff he picked out o'
them ten-cent novels he was alius reading.
My women-folks say that he actually liked
the girl, because she was the only one in the
house that Mas ever kind to him ; they say
the girls were just ragin' mad at the idea o'
havin' a hired gal who had waited on 'em as
a sister-in-law, and they even got old iMammy
Harcourt's back up by sayin' that John's
wife would want to rule the house, and run
her out of her own kitchen. Some say he
shook the?)!, talked back to 'em mighty sharp,
and held his head a heap higher nor them.
Anyhow, he 's liviu' with his wife somewhere
in 'Frisco, in a shanty on a sand lot, and
workin' odd jobs for the newspapers. No !
takin' it by and large it don't look as if
llarcourt had run his family to the same
advantage that he has his land."
" Perhaps he does n't understand them as
well," said the stranger smiling.
" Mor 'u likely the material ain't thar, or
A FIRST FA.\fILY OF TASAJARA. 109
ain't as vallyble for a new country," said
Peters grimly. " I reckon the trouble is
that he lets them two daughters run him, and
the man who lets any woman or women do
that, lets himself in for all their meannesses,
and all he gets in return is a woman's result,
show I "
Here the stranger, who was slowly rising
from his chair with the polite suggestion of
reluctantly tearing himself from the speaker's
spell, said : " And Ilarcourt spends most of
his time in San Francisco, I suppose ? "
" Yes 1 but to-tlay ho 's here to attend a
directors" meeting and the opening of the
Free Library and Tasajara Hall. I saw the
windows open, and the blinds up in his
house across the plaza as I passed just
now."
The stranger had by this time quite effected
his courteous withdrawal. " Good - after-
noon, Mr. Peters,"' he said, smilingly lifting
his hat, and turned away.
Peters, who was obliged to take his leers
off the chair, and half rise to the stranfrer's
politeness, here reflected that he did not know
his interIocutor"s name and business, and that
he had really got nothing in return for his
information. This must be remedied. As
110 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASA.JAKA.
the stranger passed through tlic hall into the
street, followed by the linwouted civilities of
the spruce hotel clerk and the obsequious at-
tentions of the negro porter, Peters stepped
to the window of the office. " Who was
that man who just passed out?" he asked.
The clerk stared in undisguised astonish-
ment. " You don't mean to say you did n't
know who he was all the while you were
talking to him?"
" No," returned Peters, impatiently.
" Why, that was Professor Lawrence
Grant! ^//c Lawrence Grant don't you
know ? the biggest scientific man and rec-
ognized expert on the Pacific slope. Why,
that 's the man whose single word is ciiough
to make or break the biggest mine or claim
going ! That man ! why, that 's the man
whose opinion 's worth thousands, for it
carries millions with it and can't be
bought. That 's him who knocked the bot-
tom outer El Dorado last year, and next day
sent Eureka up booming ! Ye remember
that, sure? "
" Of course but "' stammered Peters.
" And to tliiuk you did n't know him ! ""
repeated the hotel clerk wonderingly. " And
here / was reckoning you were getting
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAJLl. HI
j>oiuts from liim all the time ! Why, some
iiicu would have given a thousand dollars for
your chance of talking to him yes ! ^ of
eyen being see?i talking to him. Why, old
Wingate once got a tip on his Prairie Flower
lead worth five thousand dollars while just
changing seats with him in the cars and pass-
ing the time of day, sociable like. AVhy,
what did you talk about ? "
Peters, with a miserable conviction that he
had thrown away a valuable opportunity in
more idle gossip, nevertheless endeavored to
look mysterious as he replied, " Oh, business
giu'rally." Then in the faint hope of yet
retrieving his blunder he inquired, " How
long will he be here ? "
" Don't know. I reckon he and Ilar-
court 's got something on hand. He just
asked if he was likely to be at home or at his
office. 1 told him I reckoned at the house,
for some of the family 1 did n't get to see
who they were drove up in a carriage
from the 3.40 train while you were sitting
there."
Meanwhile the subject of this discussion,
quite unconscious of the sensation he had
created, or perha[)s like most heroes philo-
sophically careless of it, was sauntering in-
112 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
differently towards Harcourt's house. BuJ
he had no business with his former host,
his only object was to pass an idle hour be-
fore his train left. He was, of course, net
unaware that he himself was largely re-
sponsible for Harcourt's success ; that it was
his hint which had induced the petty trader
of Sidon to venture his all in Tasajara; his
knowledge of the topography and geology of
the plain that had stimulated Harcourt's
agricultural speculations ; his hydrographic
survey of the creek that had made Harcourt's
plan of widening the channel to commerce
practicable and profitable. This he could
not help but know. But that it was chiefly
owing to his own clear, cool, far-seeing, but
never visionary, scientific observation, his
own accurate analysis, unprejudiced by even
a savant's enthusiasm, and uninfluenced by
any personal desire or greed of gain, that
Tasajara City had risen from the stagnant
tules^ was a speculation that had never
occurred to him. There was a much more
uneasy consciousness of what ho had done in
Mr. Harcourt's face a few moments later,
when his visitor's name was announced, and
it is to be feared that if that name had been
less widely honored and respected than it
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 113
was, no merely grateful recollection of it
would have procured Grant an audience.
As it was, it was with a frown and a touch of
his old impatient asperity that he stepped to
the threshold of an adjoining room and
called, " Clemmy ! "
Clementina appeared at the door.
" There 's that man Grant in the parlor.
What brings him here, I wonder ? Who
does he come to see ? "
"Who did he ask for?"
" Me, but that don't mean anything."
" Perhaps he wants to see you on some
business."
" No. That is n't his high-toned style.
lie makes other people go to him for that,"
he said bitterly. " Anyhow don't you
think it 's mighty queer his coming here after
his friend for it was he who introduced
liico to us had behaved so to your sister,
and caused all this divorce and scandal?"
" Perhaps he may know nothing about it ;
he and Rice separated long ago, even before
Grant became so famous. We never saw
much of hiui, you know, after we came here.
Suppose you leave him to mc. I '11 see him."
iMr. Harcourt reflected. " Did n't he
used to be rather attentive to Phemie ? "
114 A FIRST FAMILY OF TAiSAJAHA.
Clementina shrugged her shoulders care-
lessly. " I dare say but I don't think
that 710W "
" Who said anything about now ? " re-
torted her father, with a return of his old
abruptness. After a pause he said : " I '11
go down and see him first, and then send
for you. You can keep him for the opening
and dinner, if you like."
Meantime Lawrence Grant, serenely un-
suspicious of these domestic confidences,
had been shown into the parlor a large
room furnished in the same style as the
drawing-room of the hottl he had just
quitted. lie had ample time to note that
it was that wonderful Second Empire furni-
ture which he remembered that the early
San Francisco pioneers in the first flush of
their wealth had imported directly from=
France, and which for years after gave an
unexpected foreign flavor to the western
domesticity and a tawdry gilt equality to
saloons and drawing-rooms, puliiic and pri-
vate. But he was observant of a correspond-
ing change in liarcourt, when a moment
later ho entered the room. That individ-
uull;:y whieli ixad kei)t the former shoj)-
kueper of Sidon distinct from, although per-
A F/RST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 115
haps not superior to, his customers was
strongly niarketl. He was perhaps now
more nervously alert than then ; he was cer-
tainly more impatient than before, but
that was pardonable in a man of largo af-
fairs and action. Grant could not deny
tliat he seemed improved, rather perhaps
that the setting of fine clothes, cleanliness,
and the absence of petty worries, made his
characteristics respectable. That wliich is
ill breeding in homespun, is apt to become
mere eccentricity in purple and fine linen ,
Grant felt tluit llarcoart jarred on him less
than he did before, and was grateful vvitliont
superciliousness. Harcourt, relieved to find
that Grant was neither critic.d nor aggres-
sively reminiscent, and above all not in-
clined to claim the credit of creating him
and Tasajara, became more conndent, more
at his ease, and, I fear, in proportion more
unpleasant. It is the repose and not the
struggle of the parvenu that confounds us.
'' And i/ou^ Grant, you have made your-
self famoTis, and, I hear, liave got pretty
much your own piices for your opiniojis
ever since it was known that you yoii
er were connected with the growth of
Tasajara."
116 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
Grant smiled ; lie was not quite prepared
for this ; but it was amusing and would pass
the time. He murmured a sentence of half
ironical deprecation, and Mr. Harcourt con-
tinued :
" I have n't got my San Francisco house
here to receive you in, but I hope some day,
sir, to see you there. We are only here for
the day and night, but if you care to attend
the opening ceremonies at the new hall, we
can manage to give you dinner afterwards.
You can escort my daughter Clementina,
she 's here with me."
The smile of apologetic declination which
had begun to form on Grant's lips was sud-
denly arrested. " Then your daughter is
here ? " he asked, with unaffected interest.
" Yes, she is in fact a patroness of the
library and sewing-circle, and takes the
greatest interest in it. The Reverend Doc-
tor Pilsbury relies upon her for everything.
She runs the society, even to the training of
the young ladies, sir. You shall see their
exercises."
This was certainly a new phase of Clem-
entina's cliaraeter, Yet why should she not
assume the rule of Lady Bountiful with tlie
other functions of her new condition. " I
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAKA. 117
slioulil liave thought Miss Ilarcourt wouhl
luive found this rather difficult with lier
other social duties," he said, "and would
have left it to her married sister." He
thought it better not to appear as if avoid-
ing- leference to Euphemia, although quietly
ignoring her late experiences. Mr. Har-
court was less easy in his response.
" Now that Euphemia is again with her
own family," he said ponderously, with an
affectation of social discrimination that was
in weak contrast to his usual direct business
astuteness, " I suppose she may take her
part in these things, but jiist now she re-
quires rest. You may have heard some
rumor that she is going abroad for a time ?
The fact is she has n't the least intention of
doing so, nor do we consider there is the
slightest reason for her going." lie paused
as if to give great emphasis to a statement
that seemed otherwise unimportant. " But
here "s Clementina coming, and I must get
you to excuse mc. I 've to meet the trus-
tees of the church in ten minutes, but I
hope she "11 persuade you to stay, and I '11
sec you later at the hall."
As Clementina entered the room her
father vanished and, I fear, as completely
118 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAKA.
dropped out of Mr. Grant's mind. For the
daughter's improvement was greater than
her father's, yet so much more refined as
to be at first only delicately perceptible.
Grant had been prepared for the vulgar
enhancement of fine clothes and personal
adornment, for the specious setting of luxu-
rious circumstances and suri'oundings, for
the aplomb that came from flattery and con-
scious power. But he found none of these ;
her calm individuality was intensified rather
than subdued ; she was dressed simply, with
an economy of ornament, rich material, and
jewelry, but an accuracy of taste that was
always dominant. Her plain gray merino
dress, beautifully fitting her figure, sug-
gested, with its pale blue facings, some uni-
form, as of the charitaljle society she patron-
ized. She came towards him with a graceful
movement of greeting, yet her face showed
no consciousness of the interval th.it had
elapsed since they met ; he almost fancied
himself t7'ansported back to the sitting-room
at Sidou with the monotonous patter of the
leaves outside, and the cool moist breath of
the bay and alder coming in at the window.
" Father says that you are only passing
through Tasajara to-day, as you did through
.1 /V7iVS7' KAMI LI' OF TASAJAIiA. 119
Sidon fivo years ago," she said with a smil-
ing earnestness that he fancied however was
the one new phase of her character. '' But
I won't believe it ! At least we will not ac-
cept another visit quite as accidental as that,
even though you brought us twice the good
fortune you did then. You see, we have
not forgotten it if you have, Mr. Grant.
And unless you ^^ant us to believe that your
fairy gifts will turn some day to leaves and
ashes, you will promise to stay with us to-
night, and let me show you some of the good
we have done with them. Perhaps you
dont know, or don't want to knovv% that it
was J who got up tliis 'Library and Home
Circle of the Sisters of Tasajara ' which we
are to open to-day. And can you imagine
why ? You rtimember or have you forgot-
ten that you once affected to be concerned
at the social condition of the young ladies
on the plains of Sidon? Weil, Mr. Grant,
tliis is gotten up in order th;it the future Mr.
(rrants who wander may fuid future Miss
])illingses who are worthy to converse with
them and entertain them, and wlio no longer
wear men's hats and live on tlie jiublic road."
it was such a long s^JLccii for one so taci-
turn as he remembered C'lementina to have
120 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
been ; so unexpeeted in tone considering her
father's attitude towards him, and so un-
looked for in its reference to a slight inci-
dent of the jiast, that Grant's critical con-
templation of her gave way to a quiet and
grateful glance of admiration. How could
he have been so mistaken in her character ?
He had always preferred tlie outspoken
EujDhemia, and yet why should he not have
been equally mistaken in her ? Without
having any personal knowledge of Rice's
matrimonial troubles for their intimate
comj)anionshi]) had not continued after the
survey he had been inclined to blame
him ; now he seemed to find excuses for
]iim. He wondered if she really had liked
him as Peters had hinted ; he wondered if
she knew that he, Grant, was no longer in-
timate with him and knew nothing of her
affairs. All this while he was accepting her
proffered hospitality and sending to the ho-
tel for his luggage. Tlien he drifted into a
conversation, which he had expected would
be brief, pointless, and confined to a stupid
resume of their mutual and social progress
since tlu^y had left Sidon. I^ut liere he was
again mistaken ; she was talking familiarly
of present social topics, of things that she
A FJIiST FAMILY OF TASAJAHA. 121
knew clearly and well, without effoi"t or atti-
tude. She had been to New York and Bos-
ton for two winters ; she had spent the pre-
vious summer at Newport ; it might have
been her whole youth for the fluency, accu-
racy, and familiarity of her detail, and the
absence of provincial enthusiasm. She was
going abroad, probably in the spring. She
had thought of going to winter in Italy, but
she would wait now until her sister was ready
to go with her. Mr. Grant of course knew
that Euphemia was separated from Mr. Rice
no ! not until her father told him ?
Well the marriage had been a wild and
foolish thing for both. But Euphemia was
back again with them in the San Francisco
house ; she had talked of coming to Tasa-
jara to-day, perhaps she might be there to-
night. And, good heavens ! it was actually
three o'clock already, and they must start at
once for the Hall. She would go and get
her hat and return instantly.
It was true ; he had been talking with her
an hour pleasantly, intelligently, and yet
w^itli a consciousness of an indefinite satis-
faction beyond all this. It must have been
surprise at her transformation, or his pre-
vious misconception of her character. lie
122 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
had been watching her features and won-
dering why he had ever thought them ex-
pressionless. There was also the pleasant
suggestion common to humanity in such
instances that he himself was in some way
responsible for the change ; that it was some
awakened sympathy to his own nature that
had breathed into this cold and faultless
statue the warmth of life. In an odd flash
of recollection he remembered how, five years
ago, when Kice had suggested to her that she
was " hard to please," she had replied that
she " did n't know, but that she was waiting
to see." It did not occur to him to wonder
why she had not awakened then, or if this
a'.vakening had anything to do with her own
volition. It was not probable th:it they
would meet again after to-day, or if they did,
that slie would not relapse into her former
self and fail to impress him as she had now.
But here she was a })aragon of feminine
])rom])titude already standing in the door-
way, accurately gloved and booted, and wear-
ing a demure gray hat that modestly crowned
her decorously elegant figure.
They crossed the plaza side by side, in the
still garish sr.nlight that seemed to mock
the scant shade of the youthful eucalyptus
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASA.lARA. 123
trees, and presently fell in with the stream
of people going in their direction. The for-
mer daughters of Sidon, the Billingses, the
Peterscs, and ^\"ingates, were there bourgeon-
ing and expanding in the glare of their
new prosperity, with silk and gold ; there
were newer faces still, and pretty ones, for
Tusajara as a *' Cow County " had attracted
settlers with large families, and there were
already the contrasting types of East and
West. Many turned to look after the tall
figure of the daughter of the Founder of
Tasajara, a spectacle lately rare to the
town ; a few ghmced at her companion,
equally noticeable as a stranger. Thanks,
however, to some judicious preliminary ad-
vertising from the hotel clerk, Peters, and
Daniol llarcourt himself, by the time Grant
and ]\Iiss llarcourt liad reached the Hall
his name and fame were already known, and
speculation li;\(l already begun whether this
new stroke of ilarcourt's shrewdness might
not unite Clementina to a renowned and
profitable partner.
The Hall v.as in one of the further and
newly ojienod suburbs, and its side and roar
windows cave iur.ncdiately npon the outly-
ing and illimitable i)lain of Tasajara. It
124 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
was a tasteful and fair-seeming structure of
wood, surprisingly and surpassingly new.
In fact that was its one dominant feature ;
nowhere else had youth and freshness ever
shown itself as unconquerable and all-con-
quering. The spice of virgin woods and
trackless forests still rose from its pine
floors, and breathed from its outer shell of
cedar that still oozed its sap, and redwood
that still dropped its life-blood. Nowhere
else were the plastered walls and ceilings as
white and dazzling in their unstained purity,
or as redolent of the outlying quarry in their
clear cool breath of lime and stone. Even
the turpentine of fresh and spotless paint
added to this sense of wholesome germi-
nation, and as the clear and brilliant Cali-
fornian sunshine swept through the open
windows west and east, suffusing the whole
palpitating structure with its searching and
resistless radiance, the very air seemed filled
with the aroma of creation.
The fresli colors of tlie young Republic,
the bright blazonry of the newest State, the
coat-of-arms of the infant County of Tasa-
jara (a vignette of sunset-^///e,s cloven by
tlie steam of an advancing train) hanging
from the walls, were all a part of this inviu-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 125
cible juvenescence. Even the newest silks,
ribbons and prints of the latest holiday fash-
ions made their first virgin appearance in
the new building as if to consecrate it, until
it was stirred by the rustle of youth, as with
the sound and movement of budding spring.
A strain from the new organ whose
heart, however, had prematurely learned its
own bitterness and a thin, clear, but some-
what shrill chanting from a choir of young
ladies were followed by a prayer from the
Reverend Mr. Pilsbury. Then there was a
pause of expectancy, and Grant's fair com-
panion, who up to that moment had been
quietly acting as guide and cicerone to her
father's guest, excused herself with a little
grimace of mock concern and was led away
by one of the committee. Grant's usually
keen eyes were wandering somewhat ab-
stractedly over the agitated and rustling
field of ribbons, flowers and feathers before
him, past the blazonry of banner on the
walls, and through the open windows to the
long sunlit levels beyond, wlien he noticed a
stir upon the raised dais or ])latform at the
end of the room, where the notables of Ta/
.sajaru were formally assembled. The mass
of black coats suddenly parted and drew
126 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
back against the wall to allow the coming
forward of a single graceful figure. A thrill
of nervousness us unexpected as unaccount-
able passed over hiin as he recognized Clem-
entina. In the midst of a sudden silence
she read the report of the committee from a
paper in her hand, in a clear, untroubled
voice the old voice oi Sidon and for-
mally declared the building opened. The
sunlight, nearly level, streamed through the
western window across the front of the plat-
form where she stood and transfigured her
slight but noble figure. The hush that liad
fallen upon the Hall was as much the effect
of that tran(]uil, ideal presence as of the
message with which it was charged. And
yet that apparition was as inconsistent with
the clear, searching light which helped to set
it off, as it was with the broad new blazonry
of decoration, the yet unsullied record of the
wliito Vv'alls, or even the frank, animated and
pretty faces that looked upon it. Perliaps
it was some such instinct that caused the
applause whicli hesitatingly and tardily fol-
lowed h(M' from the })latform to api)ear
})ol!te and half restrained rather than s])on-
taueous.
Kevertheless Grant was honestly and sin-
A FIKST FAMILY OF TASA.IAIiA. 127
ccrcly piofiise in liis congratulations. -' You
wore far cooler and far more self-contained
than /should have been in your place," he
'said, ''than in fact I actually ?6'a6', only as
your auditor. But I suppose you have done
it before? "
She turned her beautiful eyes on his
wonderingly. " No, this is the first time
I ever appeared in public, not even at
school, for even there I was always a pri-
vate pupil."'
"You astonish mo," said Grant; "you
seemed like an old hand at it."
'" Perhaps I did. or ratlier as if I did n't
think anything of it myself, and that no
doubt is why the audience did n't think any-
thing of it either."
So she fidd noticed her cold reception,
and yet there was not the slightest trace of
disappolutment, regret, or wounded vanity
in her tone or manner. '* You must take
me to the refreshment room now," she said
pleasantly, " and Iielp me to look after the
yoimg ]adi(v; v/ho are my guests. 1 "m
afraid there are still more speeclies to come,
and father and ^Iv. Pilsbury are looking as
if tliey contulently expected something more
would be 'expected" of them."
128 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
Grant at once threw himself into the task
assigned to liini, with his natural gallantry
and a certain captivating playfulness which
he still retained. Perliaps he was the more
anxious to jslease in order that his compan-
ion might share some of his popularity, for
it w\as undeniable that Miss Ilarcourt still
seemed to excite only a constrained polite-
ness among those with whom she courteously
mingled. And this was still more distinctly
marked by the contrast of a later incident.
For some moments the sound of laughter
and greeting had risen near the door of the
refreshment room that oiJened upon the cen-
tral hall, and there was a perceptible move-
ment of the crowd particularly of youthful
male Tasajara in that direction. It was
evident tliat it announced the unexpected
arrival of some popular resident. Attracted
like the others, Grant turned and saw the
company making way for the smiling, easy,
half-saucy, half-complacent entry of a hand-
somely dressed young girl. As she turned
from time to time to recognize with rallying
familiarity or charming impertinence some
of her admirers, there was that in her tone
and gesture which instantly recalled to him
the past. It was unmistakably Euphemial
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 129
His eyes instinctively sought Clementina's.
She was gazing at him with such a grave,
penetrating look, half doubting, half wist-
ful, a look so unlike her usual unruffled
calm that he felt strangely stirred. But the
next moment, when she rejoined him, the
look had entirely gone. " You have not
seen my sister since you were at Sidon, I
believe ? " she said quietly. " She would
be sorry to miss you." But Euphemia and
her train were already passing them on the
opposite side of the long table. She had
evidently recognized Grant, yet the two sis-
ters were looking intently into each other's
eyes when he raised his own. Then Euphe-
mia met his bow with a momentary acces-
sion of color, a coquettish wave of her hand
across the table, a slight exaggeration of
her usual fascinating recklessness, and smil-
ingly moved away. He turned to Clemen-
tina, but here an ominous tapping at the
farther end of the long table revealed the
fact that Mr. Harcourt was standing on a
chair with oratorical possibilities in his face
and attitude. There was another forward
movement in the crowd and silence. In
that solid, black-broadi'h^thed, respectable
figure, that massive watchchain, that white
E Bret Harte v. 22
130 A FIJiST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
waistcoat, that diamond pin glistening in
the satin cravat, Euphemia might have seen
the realization of her prophetic vision at
Sidon five years before.
He spoke for ten minutes with a fluency
and comprehensive business-like directness
that surprised Grant. He was not there, he
said, to glorify what had been done by him-
self, his family, or his friends in Tasajara.
Others who were to follow him might do
that, or at least might be better able to ex-
plain and expatiate upon the advantages of
the institution they had just opened, and its
social, moral, and religious effect upon the
community. He was there as a business
man to demonstrate to them as he had al-
ways done and always hoped to do the
money value of improvement ; the profit
if they might choose to call it of well-reg-
ulated and properly calculated speculation.
The plot of land upon which they stood, of
which the building occupied only one eighth,
was bought two years before for ten thousand
dollars. When the pluns of the building
were completed a month afterwards, the
value of the remaining seven eighths had
risen enough to defray the cost of the entire
construction. He was in a position to tell
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 131
them that only that morning the adjacent
property, subdivided and laid out in streets
and building-plots, had been admitted into
the corporate limits of the city; and that on
the next anniversary of the building they
would approach it through an avenue of
finished dwellings ! An outburst of ap-
plause followed the speaker's practical
climax ; the fresh young faces of his audi-
tors glowed with invincible enthusiasm ; the
afternoon trade-winds, freshening over the
limitless plain beyond, tossed the bright
banners at the windows as with sympathetic
rejoicing, and a few odorous pine shavings,
overlooked in a corner in the hurry of pre-
paration, touched by an eddying zephyr,
crept out and rolled in yellow ringlets across
the floor.
The Reverend Doctor Pilsbury arose in a
more decorous silence. lie had listened
approvingly, admiringly, he might say even
reverently, to the preceding speaker. But
although his distinguished friend had, with
his usual modesty, made light of his own
services and those of his charming family,
he, the speaker, had not risen to sing his
prai'Jes. No ; it was not in this Hall, pro-
jected by his foresight and raised by his
132 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
liberality ; in this town, called into existence
by his energy and stamped by his attributes ;
in this county, developed by his genius and
sustained by his capital ; ay, in this very
State whose grandeur was made possible by
such giants as he, it was not in any of
these places that it was necessary to praise
Daniel Harcourt, or that a panegyric of him
would be more than idle repetition. Nor
would he, as that distinguished man had
suggested, enlarge upon the social, moral,
and religious benefits of the improv'ement
they were now celebrating. It was written
on the happy, innocent faces, in the festive
garb, in the decorous demeanor, in the intel-
ligent eyes that sparkled around him, in the
presence of those of his parishioners whom
he could meet as freely here to-day as in his
own church on Sunday. What then could
he say ? What then was there to say ?
Perhaps he should say nothing if it were
not for the presence of the young before
him. He stopped and fixed his eyes pater-
nally on the youthful Johnny Billings, who
with a half dozen other Sunday-school
scholars had been marshaled before the rev-
erend speaker. And whnt was to bo the
lesson they were to ieuiu fioui it? Tliey
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 133
had heard what had been achieved by labor,
enterprise, and diligence. Perhaps they
would believe, and naturally too, that what
labor, enterprise, and diligence had done
could be done again. But was that all ?
Was there nothing behind these qualities
which, after all, were within the reach of
every one here ? Had tliey ever thought
that back of every pioneer, every explorer,
every pathfinder, every founder and creator,
there was still another ? There was no terra
incognita so rare as to be unknown to one ;
no wilderness so remote as to be beyond a
greater ken than theirs ; no waste so track-
less but that one had already passed that
way I Did they ever reflect that when the
dull sea ebbed and flowed in the tides over
the very spot where they were now stand-
ing, who it was that also foresaw, con-
ceived, and ordained the mighty change that
would take place ; who even guided and di-
rected the feeble means employed to work
it ; whose spirit moved, as in still older days
of which they had i-ead, over the face of the
stagnant waters ? Perhaps they had. Who
then was the real pioneer of Tasajara,
back of the I larcourts, tlie Peterses, the Bil-
lingses, and AVingates ? The reverend gen-
134 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
tleman gently paused for a reply. It was
given in the clear but startled accents of the
half frightened, half-fascinated Johnny Bil-
lings, in three words :
" 'Lige Curtis, sir I "
CHAPTER VI.
The trade wind, that, blowing directly
from the Golden Gate, seemed to concen-
trate its full force upon the western slope
of Russian Plill, might have dismayed any
climber less hopeful and sanguine than that
most imaginative of newspaper reporters
and most youthful of husbands, John Milton
Harcourt. But for all that it was an honest
wind, and its dry, practical energy and salt-
pervading breath only seemed to sting him
to greater and more enthusiastic exertions,
until, quite at the summit of the hill and last
of a straggling line of little cottages half
sul)merged in drifting sand, he stood upon
his own humble porch.
" I was thinking, coming up the hill,
Loo," he said, bursting into the sitting-
room, pantingly, "of writing something
about the future of the hill ! How it will
look fifty years from now, all terraced with
houses and gardens I and right up here
a kind of Acropolis, don't you know. I
136 A FIEST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
had quite a picture of it in my mind just
now."
A plainly-dressed young woman with a
pretty face, that, however, looked as if it had
been prematurely sapped of color and vital-
ity, here laid aside some white sewing she
had in her lap, and said :
" But you did that once before, Milty, and
you know the " Herald " would n't take it
because they said it was a free notice of Mr.
Boorem's building lots, and he did n't adver-
tise in the " Herald." I always told you
that you ought to have seen Boorem first."
The young fellow blinked his eyes with a
momentary arrest of that buoyant hopeful-
ness which was their peculiar characteristic,
but nevertheless replied with undaunted
cheerfulness, "I forgot. Anyhow, it 's all
the same, for I worked it into that ' Sun-
day Walk.' And it 's just as easy to write
it the other way, you see, looking back,
duivn the Jnll^ you know. Something about
the old Padres toiling through the sand just
before the Augelus : or as far back as Sir
Francis Drake's time, and have a runaway
boat's crew, coming ashore to look for gold
that the Mexicans had talked of. Lord !
that 's easy enough I 1 tell you what, Loo,
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 137
it 's worth living up here just for the inspira-
tion." Even while boyishly exhaling this
enthusiasm he was also divesting himself of
certain bundles whose contents seemed to
imply that he had brought his dinner with
him, the youthful Mrs. Harcourt setting
the table in a perfunctorj', listless way that
contrasted oddly with her husband's cheer-
ful energy.
" You have n't heard of any regular situa-
tion yet ? " she asked abstractedly.
" No, not exactly," he replied. " But
[buoyantly] it 's a great deal better for me
not to take anything in a hurry and tie my-
self to any particular line. Now, I 'm quite
free."
" And I suppose you have n't seen that Mr.
Fletcher again ? " she continued.
" No. lie only wanted to know something
about me. That 's the way with them all,
Loo. Whenever 1 apply for work anywhere
it 's always : ' So you 're Dan'l Ilarcourt's
son, eh ? Quarreled with the old man ?
Bad job ; better make it up I You '11 make
more stickin' to him. He 's worth millions I '
Everybody seems to think everything of Am,
as if / had no individuality beyond that.
1 've a good mind to cliaiige my name,"
138 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAEA.
" And pray what would mine be tlien ? "
There was so much irritation in her voice
that he drew nearer her and gently put his
arm around her waist. " Why, whatever
mine was, darling," he said with a tender
smile. " You did n't fall in love with any
particular name, did you, Loo ? "
" No, but I married a particular one," she
said quickly.
His eyelids quivered again, as if he was
avoiding some unpleasantly staring sugges-
tion, and she stopped.
" You know what I mean, dear," she said,
with a quick little laugh. " Just because
your father 's an old crosspatch, you have n't
lost your rights to his name and property.
And those people who say you ought to
make it up perhaps know what 's for the
best."
" But you remember what he said of you.
Loo ? " said the young man with a flashing
eye. " Do you think I can ever forget
that?"
" But you do forget it, dear ; you forget
it when you go in town among fresh faces
and people ; when you are looking for work.
You forget it when you 're at work writing
your copy, for I 've seen you smile as you
A FIRUT FAMILY OF TASAJARA 139
wrote. You forget it climbing up the dread-
ful sand, for you were thinking just now of
what happened years ago, or is to happen
years to come. And I want to forget it too,
Milty. I don't want to sit here all day,
thinking of it, with the wind driving the
sand against the window, and nothing to look
at but those white tombs in Lone Mountain
Cemetery, and those white caps that might be
gravestones too, and not a soiil to talk to or
even see pass by until I feel as if I were
dead and buried also. If you were me you
you you could n't help crying too ! "
Indeed he was very near it now. For as
he caught her in his arms, suddenly seeing
with a lover's sympathy and the poet's
swifter imagination all that she had seen and
even more, he was aghast at the vision con-
jured. In her delicate health and loneliness
how dreadful must have been these mono-
tonous days, and this glittering, cruel sea I
A\'hat a selfish brute ho was I Yet as he
stood there holding her, silently and rhyth-
mically marking his tenderness and remorse-
ful feelings by rocking her from side to side
like a languid metronome, she quietly disen
gaged her wet lashes from his shoulder and
said in quite another tone :
140 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" So tliey were all at Tasajara last
week ? "
"Who, dear?"
" Your father and sisters."
" Yes," said John Milton, hesitatingly.
" jVnd they 've taken back your sister after
her divorce? "
The staring obtrusiveness of this fact ap-
parently made her husband's bright sympa-
thetic eye blinlv as before.
" And if you were to divorce me, you
would be taken back too," she added quickly,
suddenly withdrawing herself with a pettish
movement and walking to the window.
But he followed. " Don't talk in that
way, Loo ! Don't look in that way, dear I "
he said, taking her hand gently, yet not with-
out a sense of some inconsistency in her con-
duet that jarred upon his own simple direct-
ness. " You know that nothing can part us
now. I was wrong to let my little girl worry
herself ,' -1 alone here, but I I thought it
was all so so bright and free out on this
hill, k'oking far awry beyond the Golden
Gate, as far as Cathay, 3'ou know, and
such a change from those dismal Hats of Ta-
sajara and that awful stretch of t}dcs. But
it 's all right now. And now that I know
how you feel, v/e '11 go elsewhere."
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 141
Slie did not reply. Perhaps she found it
difficult to keep up her injured attitude in
the face of her husband's gentleness. Per-
haps her attention had been attracted by the
unusual spectacle of a stranger, who had
just mounted the hill and was now slowly
passing along the line of cottages with a
hesitating air of inquiry. " He may be
looking for this house, for you," she said
in an entirely new tone of interest. " Kun
out and see. It may be some one who
wants "
" An article," said Milton cheerfully.
" By Jove ! he is coming here."
The stranger was indeed approaching the
little cottage, and with apparently some con-
fidence, lie was a well-dressed, well-made
man, whose age looked uncertain from the
contrast between his heavy brown mous-
tache and his hair, that, curling under the
brim of his hat, was almost white in color.
The young man started, and said, hurriedly :
" I really believe it is Fletcher, they say
his hair turned white from the Panama
fever."
It was indeed Mr. Fletcher who entered
and introduced himself, a gentle reserved
man, with something of that colorlessncss of
142 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
premature age in his speech which was ob-
servable in his hair. He had heard of Mr.
Harcourt from a friend who had recom-
mended him highly. As Mr. Harcourt had
probably been told, he, the speaker, was
about to embark some capital in a first-class
newspaper in San Francisco, and should
select the staff himself. He wanted to secure
only first-rate talent, but above all, youth-
fulness, directness, and originality. The
" Clarion," for that was to be its name, was
to have nothing "old fogy " about it. No.
It was distinctly to be the organ of Young
California ! This and much more from the
grave lips of the elderly young man, whose
speech seemed to be divided between the
pretty, but equally faded, young wife, and
the one personification of invincible youth
present, her husband.
" But I fear I have interrupted your house-
hold duties," he said pleasantly. " You were
preparing dinner. Pray go on. And let me
help you, I 'm not a bad cook, and you
can give me my reward by letting me share
it with you, for the climb up here has sharp-
ened my appetite. We can talk as we go
on."
It was in vain to protest ; there was some-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 143
thin^ paternal as well as practical in the
camaraderie of this actual capitalist and
possible Maecenas and patron as he quietly
hung up his hat and overcoat, and helped to
set the table with a practiced hand. Nor,
as he suggested, did the conversation falter,
and before they had taken their seats at the
frugal board he had already engaged John
Milton Harcourt as assistant editor of the
" Clarion " at a salary that seemed princely
to this son of a millionaire I The young wife
meantime had taken active part in the discus-
sion ; whether it was vaguely understood that
the possession of poetical and imaginative
faculties precluded any capacity for business,
or whether it was owing to the apparent
superior maturity of Mrs. Harcourt and the
stranger, it was certain that tliey arranged
the practical details of the engagement, and
that the youthful husband sat silent, merely
offering his always hopeful and sanguine con-
sent.
" You '11 take a house nearer to town, I
suppose?" continued Mr. Fletcher to the
lady, " though you 've a charming view here.
I suppose it was quite a change from Tasajara
and your father-in-law's house? I daresay
he had as fine a place there on his own
homestead as he has here ? "
144 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
Young Harcourt dropped his sensitive
eyelids again. It seemed hard that he could
never get away from these allusions to his
father ! Perhaps it was only to that relation-
ship that ho was indebted for his visitor's
kindness. In his simple honesty he could
not bear the thought of such a misapprehen-
sion. " Perhaps, Mr. Fletcher, you do not
know," he said, "that my father is not on
terms with me, and that we neither expect
anything nor could we ever take anything
from him. Could we, Loo ? " He added
the useless question partly because he saw
that his wife's face betrayed little sympathy
with him, and partly that Fletcher was look-
ing at her curiously, as if for confirmation.
But this was another of John Milton's trials
as an imaginative reporter ; nobody ever
seemed to care for his practical opinions or
facts !
" Mr. Fletcher is not interested in our
little family differences, Milty," she said,
looking at Mr. Fletcher, however, instead of
him. " You 're Daniel Ilarcourt's son what-
ever happens."
The cloud that had passed over the young
man's face and eyes did not, however, es-
cape Mr. Fletcher's attention, for he smiled,
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAEA. 145
and added gayly, " And I hope my valued
lieutenant in any case." Nevertheless John
Milton was quite ready to avail himself of an
inspiration to fetch some cigars for his guest
from the bar of the Sea- View House on the
slope of the hill beyond, and thereby avoid a
fateful subject. Once in the fresh air again
ho promptly recovered his boyish sj^irits.
The light flying scud had already effaced the
first rising stars ; the lower creeping sea-fog
had already blotted out the western shore
and sea ; but below him to the east the glitter-
ing lights of the city seemed to start up with
a new, mysterious, and dazzling brilliancy.
It was the valley of diamonds that Sindbad
saw lying almost at his feet ! Perhaps some-
where there the light of his own fame and
fortune was already beginning to twinkle !
He returned to his humblQ roof joyous and
inspired. As he entered the hall he heard
his wife's voice and his ovm name mentioned,
followed by that awkward, meaningless
3ilence on his entrance which so plainly indi-
cated either that he had been the subject of
conversation or that it was not for his ears.
It was a dismal reminder of his boyhood at
Sidon and Tasajara. But he. was too full of
hope and ambition to heed it to-night, and
146 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
later, when Mr. Fletcher had taken his de-
parture, his pent-up enthusiasm burst out
before his youthful partner. Had she rea-
lized that their struggles were over now, that
their future was secure? They need no
longer fear ever being forced to take bounty
from the family ; they were independent of
them all ! He would make a name for him-
self that should be distinct from his father's
as he should make a fortune that would be
theirs alone. The young wife smiled. " But
all that need not prevent you, dear, from
claiming your rights when the time comes."
" But if I scorn to make the claim or take
a penny of his, Loo ? "
"You say you scorn to take the money
you think your father got by a mere trick,
at the best, and did n't earn. And now
you will be able to show you can live with-
out it, and earn your own fortune. Well,
dear, for that very reason why should you
let your father and others enjoy and waste
what is fairly your share ? For it is yo7i.r
share whether it came to your father fairly
or not ; and if not, it is still your duty, be-
lieving as you do, to claim it from him, that
at least yon may do with it what you choose.
You might want to restore it to to
aomebody."
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 147
The young man laughed. " But, my dear
Loo ! suppose that I were weak enough to
claim it, do you tliink my father would give
it up ? He has the right, and no law could
force him to yield to me more than he
chooses."
" Not the law, but you could."
" I don't understand you," he said quickly.
" You could force him by simpiy telling
him what you once told me."
John Milton drew back, and his hand
dropped loosely from his wife's. The color
left his fresh young face ; the light quivered
for a moment and then became fixed and set
in his eyes. For that moment he looked teti
years her senior. " I was wrong ever to tell
even you that. Loo," he said in a low voice.
" You are wrong to ever remind me of it.
Forget it from this moment, as you value
our love and want it to live and be remem-
bered. And forget. Loo, as I do, and ever
shall, that you ever suggested to me to
use my secret in the way you did just now."
But here Mrs. Ilarcourt burst into tears,
more touched by the alteration in her hus-
band's manner, I fear, than by any contri-
tion for wrongdoing. Of course if he wished
to withdraw his confidences from her, just
148 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
as he had ahnost confessed he ^vished to
withdraw his name, she could n't help it,
but it was hard that when she sat there all
day long trying to think what was best for
them, she should be blamed ! At which the
quiet and forgiving John Milton smiled re-
morsefully and tried to comfort her. Nev-
ertheless an occasional odd, indefinable chill
seemed to creep across the feverish enthusi-
asm with which he was celebrating this day
of fortune. And yet he neither knew nor
suspected until long after that his foolish
wife had that night half betrayed his secret
to the stranger I
The next day he presented a note of in-
troduction from Mr. Fletcher to the busi-
ness manager of the " Clarion," and the fol-
lowing morning was duly installed in office.
He did not see his benefactor again ; that
single visit was left in the mystery and iso-
lation of an angelic episode. It later ap-
peared that other and larger Interests in the
San Jose valley claimed his patron's resi-
dence and attendance ; only the capital and
general purpose of the paper to develop
into a party organ in the interest of his pos-
sible senatorial aspirations in due season
was fuvnislied by him. Grateful as John
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASA.IARA. 149
Milton felt towards him, he was relieved ;
it seemed probable that Mr. Fleteher hricl
selected him on his individual merits, and
not as the sou of a millionaire.
lie threw himself into his work with his
old hopeful enthusiasm, and perhaps an ori-
ginality of method that was pai*t of his
singular independence. Without the stu-
dent's training or restraint, for his two
years' schooling at Tasajara during his par-
ents' prosperity came too late to act as a dis-
cipline, he was unfettered by any rules,
and guided only by ?n unerring instinctive
taste that became near being genius. He
was a brilliant and original, if not always a
profound and accurate, reporter. By de-
grees he became an accustomed Interest to
the readers of the " Clarion ; " then an influ-
ence. Actors themselves in many a fierce
drama, living lives of devotion, emotion, and
picturesque incident, they had satisfied
themselves with only the briefest and most
practical daily record of their adventure,
and even at first were dazed and startled to
find that many of them had been heroes and
some poets. The stealthy boyish reader of
romantic chronicle at Sidon had learned by
heart the chivalrous story of the emigration.
150 A FIRST FuiMILY OF TASAJARA.
The second column of tlie "Clarion " became
famous even while the figure of its youthful
writer, unknown and unrecognized, was still
nightly climbing the sands of Russian Hill,
and even looking down as before on the
lights of the growing city, without a thought
that he had added to that glittering constel-
lation.
Cheerful and contented with the exercise
of work, he would have been happy but
for the gradual haunting of another dread
which presently began to drag him at earlier
hours up the steep path to his little home ;
to halt him before the door with the quick-
ened breath of an anxiety he would scarcely
confess to himself, and sometimes hold him
aimlessly a whole day beneath his roof.
For the pretty but delicate Mrs. Har-
court, like others of her class, had added a
weak and ineffective maternity to their
other conjugal trials, and one early dawn
a baby was born that lingered with them
scarcely longer than the morning mist and
exhaled with the rising sun. The young wife
regained her strength slowly, so slowly
that the youthful husband brought his work
at times to the house to keep her company.
And a singular change had come over her.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 151
She no longer talked of the past, nor of liis
family. As if the little life that had passed
with that morning mist had represented
some ascending expiatory sacrifice, it seemed
to have brought them into closer commun-
ion.
Yet her weak condition made him conceal
another trouble that had come upon him.
It was in the third month of his em})loy-
ment on the " Clarion " that one afternoon,
while correcting some proofs on his chief's
desk, he came upon the following editorial
paragraph :
" The played-out cant of ' pioneer genius '
and ' pioneer discovery ' appears to have
reached its climax in the attempt of some of
our contemporaries to apply it to Dan Ilar-
court's new Tasajara Job before the legisla-
ture. It is perfectly well known in liar-
court's own district that, far from being a
pioneer and settler himself] he simply suc-
ceeded after a fashion to the genuine work
of one Elijah Curtis, an actual pioneer and
discoverer, years before, while Ilarcourt, we
bi'lieve, was keeping a frontier doggery in
Sidon, and dispensing ' tanglefoot ' and salt
junk to the hayfooted Pike Countians of his
precinct. This would make him as much of
152 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
the ' pioneer discoverer ' as the rattlesnake
who first takes up board and lodgings and
then possession in a prairie dog's burrow.
And if the traveler's tale is tnie that the
rattlesnake sometimes makes a meal of his
landlord, the story told at Sidon may be
equally credible that the original pioneer
mysteriously disappeared about the time
that Dan Ilarcourt came into the property.
From which it would seem that Ilarcourt is
not in a position for his friends to invite
very deep scrutiny into his ' pioneer ' achieve-
ments."
Stupefaction, a vague terror, and rising
anger, rapidly succeeded each other in the
young man's mind as he stood mechanically
holding the paper in his hand. It was the
writing of his chief editor, whose easy bru-
tality he had sometimes even boyishly ad-
mired. Without stopping to consider their
relative positions he sought him indignantly
and laid the proof before him. The editor
laughed. " But what 's that to you P
Yon 're not on terms with the old man."
" But he is my father ! " said John Mil-
ton hotly.
"Look hero," said the editor good-na-
turedly, " I 'd like to oblige you, but it is n't
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 153
business, you know, and this is, you un-
derstand, ^ pi-oprietors business too! Of
course I see it might stand in the way of
your making up to tlie old man afterwards
and coming in for a million. Well ! you
can tell him it 's 7ne. Say I would put it
in. Say I 'm nasty and I m / "
" Then it must go in ? " said John Mil-
ton with a white face.
" You bet."
" Then / must go out ! " And writing out
his resignation, he laid it before his chief
and left.
But he could not bear to tell this to his
wife when he climbed the hill that night,
and he invented some excuse for brine:infj his
work home. The invalid never noticed any
change in his usual buoyancy, and indeed I
fear, when he was fairly installed with his
writing materials at the foot of her bed, he
had quite forgotten the episode. He was
recalled to it by a faint sigh.
" What is it, dear? '' he said looking up.
" I like to see you writing, Milty. You
always look so happy."
" Always so hap]\v, dear?"
'' "i t's. You are lia])}n', are 3'ou not ? "
'* Always." He got up and kissed her.
154 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
NevertKeless, when he sat down to his work
again, his face was turned a little more to
the window.
Another serious incident to be also
kept from the invalid shortly followed.
The article in the " Clarion " had borne its
fruit. The third day after his resignation
a rival paper sharply retorted. " The cow-
ardly insinuations against the record of a
justly honored capitalist," said the " Pio-
neer," " although quite in keeping with the
brazen ' Clarion,' might attract the atten-
tions of the slandered party, if it were not
known to his friends as well as himself that
it may be traced almost directly to a cast-off
member of his own family, who, it seems, is
reduced to haunting the back doors of cer-
tain blatant journals to dispose of his cheap
wares. The slanderer is secure from public
exposure in the superior decency of his rehi-
tions, who refrain from airing their family
linen upon editorial lines."
This was the journal to which John Mil-
ton had hopefully turned for work. AVlicn he
read it there seemed but one thing for him
to do and he did it. Gentle and optimis-
tic as was his nature, he had been brought
up in a community where sincere directness
.1 FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 155
of personal offense was followed by equally-
sincere directness of personal redress, and
he challenged the editor. The bearer of
his cartel was one Jack Hamlin, I grieve to
say a gambler by profession, but between
whom and John Milton had sprung up an
odd friendship of which the best that can
be said is that it was to each equally and
unselfishly un2:)rofitable. The challenge was
accepted, the preliminaries arranged. " I
suppose," said Jack carelessly, " as the old
man ought to do something for your wife in
case of accident, you 've made some sort of
a will?"
" I 've thought of that," said Jolin Mil-
ton, dubiously, *' but I 'm afraid it 's no use.
You see" he hesitated "I'm not of
age."
" May I ask how old you are, sonny ? "
said Jack with great gi-avity.
" I 'm almost twenty," said John Milton,
coloring.
"It isn't exactly vingt-et-tin, but I'd
stand on it ; if I were you I would n't draw
to such a hand," said Jack, coolly.
The young husband had arranged to be
absent from his home that night, and early
morning found him, with Jack, grave, but
156 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
courageous, in a little hollow behind the Mis-
sion Hills. To them presently approached
his antagonist, jauntily accompanied by Colo-
nel Starbottle, his second. They halted,
but after the formal salutation were instantly
joined by Jack Hamlin. For a few mo-
ments John Milton remained awkwardly
alone pending a conversation which even
at that supreme moment he felt as being
like the general attitude of his friends to-
wards him, in its complete ignoring of him-
self. The next moment the three men
stepped towards him. " We have come,
sir," said Colonel Starbottle in his precisest
speech but his jauntiest manner, "to offer
you a full and ample apology a personal
apology which only supplements that full
public apology that my principal, sir, this
gentleman," indicating the editor of the
" Pioneer," "has this mo?'ning made in the
columns of his paper, as you will observe,"
producing a newspaper. " We have, sir,"
continued the colonel loftily, " only within
the last twelve hours become aware of the
er real circumstances of the case. We
would regret that the affair had gone so far
already, if it had not given us, sir, the oppor-
tunity of testifying to your gallantry. Yv"e
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 157
do SO gladly ; and if er er Vifew years
later, Mr. llarcoui't, you should ever need
a friend in any matter of this kind, 1 am,
sir, at your service." John Milton gazed
half inquiringly, half uneasily at Jack.
' It 's all right, Milt," he said sotto voce.
" Shake hands all round and let 's go to
breakfast. And I rather think that editor
wants to employ you himself.''^
It was true, for when that night he climbed
eagerly the steep homeward hill he carried
with him the written offer of an engagement
on the "Pioneer." As he entered the door
his wife's nurse and companion met him with
a serious face. There had been a stranjje
and unexpected change in the patient's con-
dition, and the doctor had already been there
twice. As ho put aside his coat and liat and
entered her room, it seemed to him that he
had forever put aside all else of essay and
ambition beyond tliose four walls. And
with the thought a great peace came upon
him. It seemed good to him to live for her
alone.
It was not for long. As each monotonous
day brouglit the morning mist and evening
fog regularly to the little hilltop where his
whole being was now centred, she seemed
158 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAEA.
to grow daily weaker, and the little circle of
her life narrowed day by day. One morn-
ing when the usual mist appeared to have
been withheld and the sun had risen with
a strange and cruel brightness ; when the
waves danced and sparkled on the bay below
and light glanced from dazzling sails, and
even the white tombs on Lone Mountain
glittered keenly ; when cheery voices hailing
each other on the hillside came to him clearly
but without sense or meaning; when earth,
sky, and sea seemed quivering with life and
motion, he opened the door of that one lit^-
tle house on which the only shadow seemed
to have fallen, and went forth again into the
world alone.
CHAPTER VII.
Mr. Daniel Harcourt's town mansion
was also on an eminence, but it was that gen-
tler acclivity o fashion known as Rincon
Hill, and sunned itself on a southern slope of
luxury. It had been described as " princely "
and " fairy-like," by a grateful reporter ;
tourists and travelers had sung its praises
in letters to their friends and in private rem-
iniscences, for it had dispensed hospitality
to most of the celebrities who had visited the
coast. Nevertheless its charm was mainly
due to the ruling taste of ]\[iss Clementina
Harcourt, who had astonished her father by
her marvelous intuition of the nice require-
ments and elegant responsibilities of their
position ; and had thrown her mother into
the pained perplexity of a matronly hen,
who, among tlie ducks' eggs intrusted to her
fostering care, had unwittingly hatched a
graceful but discomposing cygnet.
Indeed, after holding out feebly against
the siege of wealth at Tasajara and San
160 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
Francisco, Mrs. Harcourt had abandoned
herself hopelessly to the horrors of its inva-
sion ; had allowed herself to be dragged from
her kitchen by her exultant daughters and
set up in black silk in a certain conventional
respectability in the drawing-room. Strange
to say, her commiserating hospitality, or
hos})ital-like ministration, not only gave her
popularity, but a certain kind of distinction.
An exaltation so sorrowfully deprecated by
its possessor was felt to be a sign of supe-
riority. She was spoken of as " motherly,"
even by those who vaguely knew that there
was somewhere a discarded son struggling
in poverty with a helpless wife, and that she
had sided with her husband in disinheriting
a daughter who had married unwisely. She
was sentimentally spoken of as a " true
wife," while never opposing a single mean-
ness of her husband, suggesting a single
active virtue, nor questioning her right to
sacrifice herself and her family for his sake.
AVith nothing she cared to affect, she was
quite free from affectation, and even the
critical Lawrence Grant was struck with tlie
dignity whicli her narrow simplicity, that
had seemed small even in Sidon, attained in
her palatial hall in San Francisco. It ap-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJaRA. 161
pcarcd to be a perfectly logical conclusion
that when such unaffectedness and siiin)licity
were forced to assume a hostile attitude to
anybody, the latter must be to blame.
Since the festival of Tasajara Mr. Grant
had been a frequent visitor at Harcourt's,
and was a guest on the eve of his departure
from San Francisco. The distinguished po-
sition of each made their relations appear
quite natural without inciting gossip as to
any attraction in Harcourt's daughters. It
was late one afternoon as he was passing the
door of Harcourt's study that his host called
him in. He found him sitting at his desk
with some papers before him and a folded
copy of the " Clarion." With his back to
the fading light of the window his face was
partly in shadow.
'' By the way, Grant," he began, with an
assumption of carelessness somewhat incon-
sistent with the fact that he had just cal^d
him in, " it may be necessary for me to pull
up those fellows who are blackguarding me
in the " Clarion."
" Why, they have n't been saying any-
thing new?" asked Grant, laughingly, as
he glanced towards the paper.
" No that is only a rehash of what
F Bret Harte v. 22
162 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
they said before," returned Harcourt with-
out opening the paper.
" Well," said Grant playfully, " you don't
mind their saying that you 're ?iot the ori-
ginal pioneer of Tasajara, for it 's true ; nor
that that fellow Lige Curtis disappeared sud-
denly, for he did, if I remember rightly.
But there 's nothing in that to invalidate
your rights to Tasajara, to say nothing of
your five years' undisputed possession."
" Of course there 's no le(/al question,"
said Harcourt almost sharply. " But as a
matter of absurd report, I may want to con-
tradict their insinuations. And you remem-
ber all the circumstances, don't you ? "
" I should think so ! Why, my dear fel-
low, I 've told it everywhere ! here, in
New York, Newport, and in London ; by
Jove, it 's one of my best stories ! How a
company sent me out with a surveyor to
look up a railroad and agricultural possibili-
ties in the wilderness ; how just as I found
them and a rather big thing they made,
too I was set afloat by a flood and a raft,
and drifted ashore on join bank, and prac-
tically demonstrated to you what you did n't
know and did n't dare to hope for that
there could be a waterway straight to Sidon
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 163
from the emharcadero. I 've told what a
charming- evening we had with you and your
dauuhters in the old house, and how 1 re-
turned your hospitality by giving you a tip
about the railroad ; and how you slipped
out while we were playing cards, to clinch
the bargain for the land with that drunken
fellow, 'Lige Curtis "
" What 's that ? " interrupted Harcourt,
quickly.
It was well that the shadow hid from
Grant the expression of Ilareourt's face, or
his reply might have been sharper. As it
was, he answered a little stiffly :
" I beg your pardon "
Harcourt recovered himself. " You 're
all wrong ! " he said, " that bargain was
made long hefore ; I never saw 'Lige Cur-
tis after you came to the house. It was
before that, in the afternoon," he went on
hurriedly, " that he was last in my store.
I can ])rove it." Nevertheless he was so
shocked and indignant at being confronted
in his own suppressions and falsehoods by
an even greater and more astounding mis-
eoiicoption of fact, that for a moment he felt
helpless. What, he reflected, if it were al-
leg(id that "Li<2e had returned ajrain after
164 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
the loafers had gone, or had neveir left the
store as had been said ? Nonsense ! There
was John Milton, who had been there read-
ing all the time, and who could disprove
it. Yes, but John Milton was his discarded
son, his enemy, perhaps even his very
slanderer !
" But," said Grant quietly, " don't you
remember that your daughter Euphemia
said something that evening about the land
Lige had offered you, and you snapped up
the young lady rather sharply for letting out
secrets, and then you went out? At least
that 's my impression."
It was, however, more than an impres-
sion ; with Grant's scientific memory for
characteristic details he had noticed that
particular circumstance as part of the social
phenomena.
" I don't know what Phomie saicl,''^ re-
turned Harcourt, impatiently. " I hjiov)
there was no offer pending ; the land had
been sold to me before I ever saw you.
Why you must have thouglit me up to
pretty sharp practice with Curtis eh ? "
he added, with a forced laugh.
Grant smiled ; he had been accustomed to
hear of such sharp practice among his busi-
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS A JAR A. 165
ness acquaintance, although he himself by-
nature and profession was incapable of it,
but he had not deemed Harcourt nore scru-
])ulous than others. " Perhaps so,*' he said
lightly, "but for Heaven's sake don't ask
me to spoil my reputation as a raconteur
for the sake of a mere fact or two. I assure
you it 's a mighty taking story as / tell it
and it don't hurt you in a business way.
You 're the hero of it hang it all ! "
" Yes," said Harcourt, without noticing
Grant's half cynical superiority, but you '11
oblige me if you won't tell it again in that
way. There are men here mean enough to
make the worst of it. It 's nothing to me,
of course, but my family the girls, you
know are rather sensitive."
"' I had no idea they even knew it, much
less cared for it," said Grant, with sudden
seriousness. " I dare say if those fellows in
the " Clarion " knew that they were annoy-
ing the ladies they 'd drop it. Who 's the
editor ? Look here leave it to me ; I '11
look into it. Better tliat you should n't ap-
pear in the matter at all."
" You understand that if it was a really
serious matter, Grant," said Harcourt with a
slight attitude, " I should n't allow any one
to take my place."
166 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" My dear fellow, there '11 be nobody
' called out ' and no ' shooting at sight,'
whatever is the result of my interference,"
returned Grant, lightly. " It '11 be all
right." He was quite aware of the power
of his own independent position and the fact
that he had been often appealed to before in
delicate arbitration.
Harcourt was equally conscious of this,
but by a strange inconsistency now felt re-
lieved at the coolness with which Grant had
accepted the misconception which had at first
seemed so dangerous. If he were ready to
condone what he thought was sharp 2))'actice,
he could not be less lenient with the real
facts that might come out, of course al-
ways excepting tha,t interpolated considera-
tion in the bill of sale, which, however, no
one but the missing Curtis could ever dis-
cover. The fact that a man of Grant's se-
cure position had interested himself in this
matter would secure him from the working
of that personal vulgar jealousy wliich his
humbler antecedents had provoked. And
if, as he fancied. Grant really cared for
Clementina
" As you like," ho said, with half-affected
lightness, "and now let us talk of some-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 167
thiiiG: else. Clementiuii lias been tliinkin<r
of getting up a riding party to San Mateo
for Mrs. Ashwoocl. We must show them
some civility, and that Boston brother of
hers, Mr. Shipley, will have to be invited
also. I can't get away, and my wife, of
course, will only be able to join them at San
Mateo in the carriage. I reckon it would
be easier for Clementina if you took my
place, and helped her look after the riding
party. It will need a man, and I think
she 'd prefer you as you know she 's rather
particular unless, of course, you 'd be
wanted for Mrs. Ashwood or Phemie, or
somebody else."
From his shadowed corner he could see
that a pleasant light had sprung into Grant's
eyes, although his reply was in his ordinary
easy banter. '" I shall be only too glad
to act as Miss Clementina's vaquero^ and
lasso her runaways, or keep stragglers in
the road."
There seemed to be small necessity, how-
ever, for this active cooperation, for when
the cheerful cavalcade started from the house
a few mornings later, Mr. LaMTcnce Grant's
onerous duties seemed to bo simply confined
to those of an ordinary cavalier at the side
168 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
of Miss Clementina, a few paces in the rear
of the party. But this safe distance gave
them the opportunity of conversing without
being overheard, an apparently discreet
precaution.
" Your father was so exceedingly affable
to me the other day that if I had n't given
you my promise to say nothing, I think I
would have fallen on my knees to him then
and there, revealed my feelings, asked for
your hand and his blessing or whatever
one does at such a time. But how long do
you intend to keep me in this suspense? "
Clementina turned her clear eyes half ab-
stractedly upon him, as if imperfectly recall-
ing some forgotten situation. " You for-
get," she said, " that part of your promise
was that you would n't even speak of it to
me again without my permission."
" But my time is so short now. Give me
some definite hope before I go. Let me be-
lieve that when we meet in New York "
" You will find me just the same as now !
Yes, I think I can promise that. Let that
suffice. You said the other day you liked
me because I had not changed for five years.
You can surely trust that I will not alter in
as many months."
A F/IiST FAMILY OF TASAJAliA. 169
" If I only knew "
'' Ah, if / only knew, if we all only
knew. 13ut we don't. Come, Mr. Grant, let
it rest as it is. Unless you want to go still
further back and have it as it vkis^ at Sidon.
There I think you fancied Euphemia most."
" Clementina ! "
" That is my name, and those people ahead
of us know it already."
"You are called Clementina^ but you
are not merciful ! "
" You are very wrong, for you might see
that Mr. Shipley has twice checked his horse
that he might hear what you are saying, and
Phemie is always showing Mrs. Ashwood
something in the landscape behind us."
All this was the more hopeless and exas-
perating to Grant since in the young girl's
speech and manner there was not the slight-
est trace of coquetry or playfulness. He
could not help saying a little bitterly : " I
don't think that any one would imagine
from your manner that you were receiving
a declaration."
" But they might imagine from yours that
you had the right to (|uarrel with me,
which would be worse."
" We cannot part like this ! It is too cruel
to mo."
170 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" We cannot part otherwise without the
risk of greater cruelty."
" But say at least, Clementina, that I have
no rival. There is no other more favored
suitor ? "
" That is so like a man and yet so un-
like the proud one I believed you to be.
Why should a man like you even consider
such a possibility ? If I were a man I know
/could n't." She turned upon him a glance
so clear and untroubled by either conscious
vanity or evasion that he was hopelessly con-
vinced of the truth of her statement, and she
went on in a slightly lowered tone, " You
have no right to ask me such a question,
but perhaps for that reason I am willing to
answer you. There is none. Plush ! For a
good rider you are setting a poor example to
the others, by crowding me towards the bank.
Go forward and talk to Phemie, and tell her
not to worry j\Irs. Ashwood's horse nor race
with her ; I don't think he 's quite safe, and
Mrs. Ashwood is n't accustomed to using
the Spanish bit. I suppose I must say some-
thing to Mr. Shipley, who does n't seem to
understand that /'m acting as chaperon, and
you as captain of the party."
She cantered forward as she spoke, and
A FIRST FAiflLY OF TASAJARA. 171
Grant was obliged to join her sister, who,
mounted on a powerful roan, was mischiev-
ously exciting a beautiful quaker-colored
mustang ridden by Mrs. Ashwood, already
irritated by the unfamiliar pressure of the
Eastern woman's hand upon his bit. The
thick dust which had forced the party of
twenty to close up in two solid files across
the road compelled them at the first opening
in the roadside fence to take the field in a
straggling gallop. Grant, eager to escape
from his own discontented self by doing
something for others, reined in beside Eu-
phemia and the fair stranger.
" Let me take your place until Mrs.
Ashwood's horse is quieted," he half whis-
pered to Euphemia.
" Thank you, and I suppose it does not
make any matter to Clem who quiets mine,"
she said, with provoking eyes and a toss of
her head worthy of the spirited animal she
was riding.
" She thinks you quite capable of man-
aging yourself and even others," he re-
plied with a playful glance at Shipley, who
was riding somewhat stiffly on the other
side.
" Don't be too sure," retorted Phemie with
172 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
another dangerous look ; " I may give you
trouble yet."
They were approaching the first undula-
tion of the russet plain they had emerged
upon, an umbrageous slope that seemed
suddenly to diverge in two defiles among the
shaded hills. Grant had given a few words of
practical advice to Mrs. Ashwood, and shown
her how to guide her mustang by the merest
caressing touch of the rein upon its sensi-
tive neck. He had not been sympathetically
inclined towards the fair stranger, a rich and
still youthful widow, although he could not
deny her unquestioned good breeding, mental
refinement, and a certain languorous thought-
fulness that was almost melancholy, which
accented her blonde delicacy. But he had
noticed that her manner was politely reserved
and slightly constrained towards the Har-
courts, and he had already resented it with a
lover's instinctive loyalty. He had at first
attributed it to a want of sympathy between
Mrs. Ashwood's more intellectual sentimen-
talities and the Harcourts' undeniable lack
of any sentiment whatever. But there was
evidently some other innate antagonism. He
was very polite to Mrs. Ashwood ; she re-
sponded with a gentlewoman's courtesy, and,
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAKA. 173
he was forced to admit, even a broader com-
preheusion of his own merits than the Ilar-
court girls had ever shown, but he coukl still
detect that she was not in accord with the
party.
" I am afraid you do not like California,
Mrs. Ashwood ? " he said pleasantly. " You
perhaps find the life here too unrestrained
and unconventional?"
She looked at him in quick astonishment.
"Are you quite sincere ? AVhy, it strikes
me that this is just what it is not. And I
have so longed for something quite different.
From what I have been told about the
originality and adventure of everything here,
and your independence of old social forms
and customs, I am afraid I expected the op-
posite of what I 've seen. Why, this very
party except that the ladies are prettier
and more expensively gotten up is like
any party that might have ridden out at
Saratoga or New York."
" And as stupid, you would say."
" As conventio/Kif, Mr. Grant ; always ex-
cepting this lovely creature beneath me,
whom I can't make out and who does n't
seem to care that I should. There ! look I I
told you so ! "
17-1 A FIIiST FAMILY OF TAHAJARA.
Her mustang liad suddenly bounded for-
ward ; but as Grant followed he could see
that the cause was the example of Phemie,
who had, in some mad freak, dashed out in
a frantic gallop. A half-dozen of the younger
people hilariously accepted the challenge ;
the excitement was communicated to the
others, until the whole cavalcade was sweep-
ing down the slope. Grant was still at Mrs.
Ashwood's side, restraining her mustang and
his own impatient horse when Clementina
joined them. " Phemie's mare has really
bolted, I fear," she said in a quick whis-
per, " ride on, and never mind us." Grant
looked quickly ahead; Phemie's roan, excited
by the shouts behind her and to all appear-
ance ungovernable, was fast disappearing
with her rider. Without a word, trusting
to his own good horsemanship and better
knowledge of the ground, he darted out of
tlie cavalcade to overtake her.
Vn\t the unfortunate residt of this was to
give f ui-ther impulse to the now racing horses
as they approached a point where the slope
terminated in two diverging canons. Mrs.
.Asliwood gave a sharp pull upon her bit.
To her consternation the mustang stopped
short almost instantly, planting his two
A F/RST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 175
fore feet rigidly in the dust and even sliding
forward with the impetus. Had her seat
been less firm she might have been thrown,
but she recovered herself, although in doing
so she still bore upon the bit, when to her
astonishment the mustang deliberately stiff-
ened himself as if for a shock, and then began
to back slowly, quivering with excitement.
She did not know that her native-bred ani-
mal fondly believed that he was participating
in a rodeo, and that to his equine intel-
ligence his fair mistress had just lassoed
something ! In vain she urged him for-
ward ; he still waited for the shock ! When
the cloud of dust in which she had been en-
wra})pcd drifted away, she saw to her amaze-
ment that she was alone. The entire party
had disappeared into one of the cailons,
but which one she could not tell !
When she succeeded at last in urging her
mustang forward again she determined to
take the right-hand canon and trust to being
either met or overtaken. A more practical
and less adventurous nature would have
waited at the ])oint of divergence for the re-
turn of some of the partv, but IVIrs. Ash-
wood was, in tnith, not sorry to be left to
herself and the novel scenery for a while,
176 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
and she bad no doubt but she would eventu-
ally find her way to the hotel at San Mateo,
which could not be far away, in time for
luncheon.
The road was still well defined, although
it presently began to wind between ascend-
ing ranks of pines and larches that marked
the terraces of hills, so high that she won-
dered she had not noticed them from the
plains. An unmistakable suggestion of
some haunting primeval solitude, a sense of
the hushed and mysterious proximity of
a nature she had never known before, the
strange half -intoxicating breath of unsunned
foliage and untrodden grasses and herbs, all
combined to exalt her as she cantered for-
ward. Even her horse seemed to have ac-
quired an intelligent liberty, or rather to
have established a sympathy with her in his
needs and her own longings ; instinctively
she no longer pulled him with the curb ; the
reins hung loosely on his self-arched and un-
fettered neck ; secure in this loneliness slie
found herself even talking to him with bar-
baric freedom. As she went on, the vague
hush of all things animate and inanimate
around her seemed to tliicken, until she un-
consciously iialted before a dim and pillared
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS. -LIAR A. 177
wood, aud a vast aud lieatliless opening on
whose mute brown lips Nature seemed to
have laid the finger of silence. She forgot
the party she had left, she forgot the lun-
cheon she was going to ; more important
still slie forgot that she had already left the
traveled track far behind her, and, tremu-
lous with anticipation, rode timidly into
that arch of shadow.
As her horse's hoofs fell noiselessly on
the elastic moss-carpeted aisle she forgot
even more than that. She forgot the arti-
ficial stimulus aud excitement of the life she
had been leading so long ; she forgot the
small meannesses and smaller worries of her
well-to-do experiences ; she forgot herself,
rather she regained a self she had long for-
gotten. For in the sweet seclusion of this
half darkened sanctuary the clinging frip-
peries of her past slipped from her as a taw-
dry garment. The petted, spoiled, and vap-
idly precocious gii'lliood which had merged
into a womanhood of aimless triumphs and
meaner ambitions ; the worldly but miser-
able triumph of a marriage that had left her
delicacy abused and her heart sick and un-
satisiied ; the wifehood without home, seclu-
sion, or maternity; the widowhood that at
178 A FJIi6T FAMILY OF TASAJAEA.
last brought relief, but with it the conscious-
ness of hopelessly wasted youth, all this
seemed to drop from her here as lightly as the
winged needles or noiseless withered spray
from the dim gray vault above her head.
In the sovereign balm of that woodland
breath her better spirit was restored ; some-
where in these wholesome shades seemed to
still lurk what should have been her inno-
cent and nymph-like youth, and to come out
once more and greet her. Old songs she had
forgotten, or whose music had failed in the
discords of her frivolous life, sang themselves
to her again in that sweet, grave silence ;
girlish dreams that she had foolishly been
ashamed of, or had put away with her child-
ish toys, stole back to her once more and
became real in this tender twilight ; old
fancies, old fragments of verse and childish
lore, grew palpable and moved faintly be-
fore her. The boyish prince who should
have come was there ; the babe that should
have been hers was there ! she stopped
suddenly with flaming eyes and indignant
color. For it appeared that a man was
there too, and had just risen from the fallen
tree where he had been sitting.
CHAPTER VIII.
She had so far forgotten herself in yield-
ing' to the spell of the place, and in the rev-
elation of her naked soul and inner nature,
that it was with something of the instinct of
outraged modesty that she seemed to shrink
before this apparition of the outer world and
outer worldliness. In an instant the nearer
past returned ; she remembered where she
was, how she liad come there, from whom she
had come, and to whom she was returning.
She could see that she had not only aimlessly
wandered from the world but from the road ;
and for that instant she hated this man who
had reminded her of it, even while she knew
she must ask his assistance. It relieved her
slightly to observe that he seemed as dis-
turbed and im})atient as herself, and as he
took a pencil from between his lips and re-
turned it to his pocket he scarcely looked at
her.
But with her return to tlic world of con-
venances came its rej^ression, and with a
180 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
gentlewoman's ease and modulated voice slie
leaned over her mustang's neck and said : " I
have strayed from my party and am afraid
I have lost my way. We were going to the
hotel at San Mateo. Would you be kind
enough to direct me there, or show me how
I can regain the road by which I came ? "
Her voice and manner were quite enough
to arrest him where he stood with a pleased
surprise in his fresh and ingenuous face.
She looked at him more closely. lie was, in
spite of his long silken mustache, so absurdly
young ; he might, in spite of that youth,
be so absurdly man-like ! What was he do-
ing there ? Was he a farmer's son, an art-
ist, a surveyor, or a city clerk out for a hol-
iday ? Was there perhaps a youthful female
of his species somewhere for whom he was
waiting and upon whose tryst she was now
breaking ? Was he terrible thought !
the outlying picket of some family picnic ?
His dress, neat, simple, free from ostenta-
tious ornament, betrayed nothing. She
waited for his voice.
" Oh, you have left San Mateo miles away
to the right," he said with quick youthful
sympathy, " at least five miles ! Where did
you leave your party ? "
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 181
His voice was winning, and even refined,
she thought. Slie answered it quite spon-
taneously : " At a fork of two roads. I see
now I took the wrong turning."
" Yes, you took the road to Crystal
Spring. It 's just down there in the valley,
not more than a mile. You \1 have been there
now if you hadn't turned oli' at the woods."
" I could n't help it, it was so beautiful."
" Is n't it ? "
" Perfect."
" And such shadows, and such intensity
of color."
" Wonderful ! and all along the ridge,
looking down that defile ! "
" Yes, and that point where it seems as if
you had only to stretch out your hand to
pick a manzanita berry from the other side
of the canon, half a mile across ! "
" Yes, and that first glimpse of the val-
ley through the Gothic gateway of rocks ! "
" And the color of those rocks, cinna-
mon and bronze with the light green of the
Yerha huena vine splashing over them."
" Yes, but for color did you notice that
hillside of yellow poppies pouring down into
the valley like a golden Niagara? "
" Certainly, and the perfect clearness of
everything."
182 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAEA.
" And yet such complete silence and re-
pose ! "
" Oh, yes ! "
" Ah, yes ! "
They were both gravely nodding and
shaking their heads with sparkling eyes and
brightened color, looking not at each other
but at the far landscape vignetted through a
lozenge-shaped wind opening in the trees.
Suddenly Mrs. Ashwood straightened her-
self in the saddle, looked grave, lifted the
reins and apparently the ten years with
them that had dropped from her. But she
said in her easiest well-bred tones, and a
half sigh, " Then I must take the road back
again to where it forks ? "
" Oh, no ! you can go by Crystal Spring.
It's no further, and I '11 show you the way.
But you 'd better stop and rest yourself and
your horse for a little while at the Springs
Hotel. It 's a very nice place. Many peo-
ple ride there from San Francisco to lunch-
eon and return. I wonder that your party
did n't prefer it ; and if they are looking for
you, as they surely must be," he said, as if
with a sudden conception of lier importance,
" they '11 come there when they find you 're
not at San Mateo."
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 183
This seemed reasonable, although the pro-
cess of being "fetched " and taking the
five miles ride, which she had enjoyed so
muc'li alone, in company was not attractive.
" Could n't I go on at once ? " she said im-
pulsively.
" You would meet them sooner," he said
thoughtfully.
This was quite enough for Mrs. Ashwood.
" I think I '11 rest this poor horse, who is
really tired," she said with charming hypoc-
risy, " and stop at the hotel."
She saw his face brighten. Perhaps he
was the son of the hotel proprietor, or a
youthful partner himself. " I suppose you
live here ? " she suggested gently. " You
seem to know the place so well."
" No," he returned qiiickly ; " I only run
down here from San Francisco when I can
got a day off."
A day off ! He was in some regular em-
ployment. But he continued : " And I used
to go to boarding-school near here, and know
all these woods well."
lie must be a native ! Plow odd ! She had
not conceived that there might be any other
population here tlian the immigrants ; per-
haps that was what made him so interesting
184 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
and different from the others. " Then your
father and mother live here ? " she said.
Plis frank face, incapable of disguise,
changed suddenly. " No," he said simply,
but without any trace of awkwardness.
Then after a slight pause he laid his hand
she noticed it was white and well kept
on her mustang's neck, and said, " If if
you care to trust yourself to me, I could
lead you and your horse down a trail into the
valley that is at least a third of the distance
shorter. It would save you going back to
the regular road, and there are one or two
lovely views that I could show you. I
should be so pleased, if it would not trouble
you. There 's a steep place or two but I
think there 's no danger."
" I shall not be afraid."
She smiled so graciously, and, as she fully
believed, maternally, that he looked at her
the second time. To his first hurried im-
pression of her as an elegant and delicately
nurtured woman one of the class of distin-
guished tourists that fashion was beginning
to send thither - he had now to add that
she had a quantity of fine silken-spun light
hair gathered in a heavy braid beneath her
gray hat ; that her mouth was very deli-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 185
cately lipped and beautifully sensitive ; that
her soft skin, although just then touehed
with excitement, was a pale faded velvet,
and seemed to be worn with ennui rather
than experience ; that her eyes were hidden
behind a strip of gray veil whence only a
faint glow was discernible. To this must
still be added a poetic fancy all his own
that, as she sat there, with the skirt of her
gray habit falling from her long bodiced
waist over the mustang's fawn - colored
flanks, and with her slim gauntleted hands
lightly swaying the reins, she looked like
Queen Guinevere in the forest. Xot that he
particularly fancied Queen Guinevere, or
that he at all imagined himself Launcelot,
but it was quite in keeping with the sugges-
tion-haunted brain of John Milton Harcourt,
whom the astute reader has of course long
since recognized.
Preceding her through the soft carpeted
vault with a woodman's instinct, for there
was apparently no trail to be seen, the
soft inner twilight began to give way to the
outer stronger day, and presently she was
startled to see the clear blue of the sky be-
fore her on apparently the same level as the
brown pine-tessellated floor she was treading.
186 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
Not only did this show her that she was
crossing a ridge of the upland, but a few
moments later she had passed beyond the
woods to a golden hillside that sloped to-
wards a leafy, sheltered, and exquisitely-
proportioned valley. A tiny but pictur-
esque tower, and a few straggling roofs and
gables, the flashing of a crystal stream
through the leaves, and a narrow white rib-
bon of road winding behind it indicated the
hostelry they were seeking. So peaceful
and unfrequented it looked, nestling be-
tween the hills, that it seemed as if they had
discovered it.
With his hand at times upon the bridle,
at others merely caressing her mustang's
neck, he led the way ; there were a few
breathless places where the crown of his
straw hat appeared between her horse's reins,
and again when she seemed almost slipping
over on his shoulder, but they were passed
with such frank fearlessness and invincible
youthful confidence on the part of her escort
that she felt no timidity. There were mo-
ments when a bit of the charmed landscape
unfolding before them overpowered them
both, and they halted to gaze, sometimes
without a word, or only a significant gesture
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 187
of sympathy and attention. At one of those
artistic manifestations Mrs. Ash wood laid
her slim gloved fingers lightly but unwit-
tingly on John Milton's arm, and withdrew
them, however, with a quick girlish apology
and a foolish color which annoyed her more
than the appearance of familiarity. But
they were now getting well down into the
valley ; the court of the little hotel was al-
ready opening before them ; their unconven-
tional relations in the idyllic world above had
changed ; the new one reqiiired some deli-
cacy of handling, and she had an idea that
even the simplicity of the young stranger
might be confusing.
" I must ask you to continue to act as my
escort," she said, laughingly. " I am Mrs.
Ashwood of Philadelphia, visiting San
Francisco with my sister and brother, who
are, I am afraid, even now hopelessly wait-
ing luncheon for mo at San Mateo. But as
there seems to be no prospect of my joining
them in time, I hope you will be able to
give me the pleasure of your company, with
whatever they may give us here in the way
of refreshment.'"
" I shall be very happy," returned John
Milton with unmistakable candor ; " but
188 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
perhaps some of your friends will be arriving
in quest of you, if they are not already here."
" Then they will join us or wait," said
Mrs. Ashwood incisively, with her first ex-
hibition of the imperiousness of a rich and
pretty woman. Perhaps she was a little an-
noyed that her elaborate introduction of
herself had produced no reciprocal disclos-
ure by her companion. " AVill you please
send the landlord to me ? " she added.
John Milton disappeared in the hotel as
she cantered to the porch. In another mo-
ment she was giving the landlord her orders
with the easy confidence of one who knew
herself only as an always welcome and
highly privileged guest, which was not with-
out its effect, " And," she added carelessly,
" when everything is ready you will please
tell Mr."
" Harcourt," suggested the landlord
promptly.
Mrs. Ashwood 's perfectly trained face
gave not the slightest sign of the surprise
that had overtaken her. " Of course,
Mr. Harcourt."
" You know he 's the son of the million-
aire," continued the landlord, not at all
unwilling to display the importnnne of the
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 189
habitues of Crystal Spring, " though they 've
quarreled and don't get on together."
" I know," said the lady languidly, " and,
if any one comes here for me, ask them to
wait in the parlor until I come."
Then, submitting herself and her dusty
habit to the awkward ministration of the
Irish chambermaid, she was quite thrilled
with a delightful curiosity. She vaguely
remembered that she had heard something of
the Ilarcourt family discord, but that was
the divorced daughter surely! And this
young man was Ilarcourt's son, and they had
quarreled I A quarrel with a frank, open,
ingenuous fellow like that a mere boy
could only be the father's fault. Luckily
she had never mentioned the name of Har-
court I She would not now ; he need not
know that it was his father who had origi-
nated the party ; why should she make him
uncomfortable for the few moments they
were together ?
There was nothing of tliis in her face as
she descended and joined him. He thought
that face handsome, well-bred, and refined.
But this breeding and refinement seemed to
him in his ignorance of the world, possibly
as only a graceful concealment of a self of
190 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
which he knew nothing; and he was not sur-
prised to find that her pretty gi'ay eyes, now
no longer hidden by her veil, really told him
no more than her lips. He was a little afraid
of her, and now that she had lost her naive
enthusiasm he was conscious of a vague re-
morsefulness for his interrupted work in the
forest. What was he doing here ? He who
had avoided the cruel, selfish world of wealth
and pleasure, a world that this woman re-
presented, the world that had stood apart
from him in the one dream of his life and
had let Loo die ! His quickly responsive
face darkened.
" I am afraid I really interrupted you up
there," she said gently, looking in his face
with an expression of unfeigned concern ;
*' you were at work of some kind, I know,
and I have very selfishly thought only of
myself. But the whole scene was so new to
me, and I so rarely meet any one who sees
things as I do, that I know you will forgive
me." She bent her eyes upon him with a
certain soft timidity. " You are an artist ? "
" I am afraid not," he said, coloring and
smiling faintly ; " I don't think I could draw
a straight line."
" Don't try to ; they 're not pretty, and the
A FIKUT FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 191
mere ability to draw them straight or curved
does n't make an artist. But you are a
lover of nature, I know, and from what I
have heard you say I believe you can do
what lovers cannot do, make others feel
as they do, and that is what I call being
an artist. You write ? You are a poet ? "
' Oh dear, no," he said with a smile, half
of relief and half of naive superiority, " I 'm
a prose writer on a daily newspaper."
To his surprise she was not disconcerted ;
rather a look of animation lit up her face as
she said brightly, "Oh, then, you can of
course satisfy my curiosity about something.
You know the road from San Francisco to
the Cliff House. Except for the view of the
sea-lions when one gets there it 's stupid ; my
brother says it 's like all the San Francisco
excursions, a dusty drive with a julep at
the end of it. Well, one day we were com-
ing back from a drive there, and when we
were beginning to wind along the brow of
that dreadful staring Lone ]Mountain Ceme-
tery, I said I would get out and walk, and
avoid the obtrusive glitter of those tomb-
stones rising before me all the way. I
pushed open a little gate and passed in.
Once among these funereal shrubs and cold
192 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
statuesque lilies everything was changed ; I
saw the staring tombstones no longer, for,
like them, I seemed to be always facing the
sea. The road had vanished ; everything had
vanished but the endless waste of ocean be-
low me, and the last slope of rock and sand.
It seemed to be the fittest place for a ceme-
tery, this end of the crumbling earth,
this beginning of the eternal sea. There !
don't think that idea my own, or that I
thought of it then. No, I read it all af-
terwards, and that 's why I 'm telling you
this."
She could not help smiling at his now at-
tentive face, and went on : " Some days af-
terwards I got hold of a newspaper four or
six months old, and there was a description
of all that I thought I had seen and felt,
only far more beautiful and touching, as you
shall see, for I cut it out of the paper and
have kept it. It seemed to me that it must
be some personal experience, as if the
writer had followed some dear friend there,
although it was with the unostcntation and
indefinitcness of true and delicate feeling.
It impressed me so much tliat I went back
there twice or thrice, and always seemed to
move to the rhythm of that beautiful fu-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 193
neral march and I am afraid, being a wo-
man, that I wandered around among the
graves as though I could find out who it
was that had been sung so sweetly, and if it
were man or woman. I 've got it here," she
said, taking a dainty ivory porte-monnaie
from her pocket and picking out with two
slim finger-tips a folded slip of newspaper ;
" and I thought that may be you might recog-
nize the style of the writer, and perhaps know
something of his history. For I believe he
has one. There 1 that is only a part of the
article, of course, but it is the part that in-
terested me. Just read from there," she
pointed, leaning partly over his shoulder so
that her soft breath stirred his hair, " to the
end ; it isn't long."
In the film that seemed to come across his
eyes, suddenly th(^ print appeared blurred
and indistinct. But he knew that she had
put into his hand something he had written
after the death of his wife ; something spon-
taneous and impulsive, when her loss still
filled his days and nights and almost iincon-
sciously swayed his pen. He remembered
that his eyes had been as dim when he wrote
it and now handed to him by this smil-
ing, well-to-do v.oman, he was as shocked at
G -Bret Harte v- 22
194 .1 FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAllA.
first as if lie bad suddenly found her reading
his private letters. This was followed by a
sudden sense of shame that he had ever thus
publicly bared his feelings, and then by the
illogical but irresistible conviction that it
was false and stupid. The few phrases slic
had pointed out appeared as cheap and hol-
low rhetoric amid the surroundings of their
social tete-a-tete over the luncheon - table.
There was small danger that this heady wine
of woman's praise v,-ould make him betray
himself ; there was no yign of gratified au-
thorship in his voice as he quietly laid down
the paper and said dryly : " I am afraid I
can't help you. You know it may be purely
fanciful."
" I don't think so," said jNlrs. Ash wood
thoughtfully. " At the same time it does n't
strike me as a very aljiuing grief for that
vei-y reason. It 's too sympathetic. It
strikes me that it might be the first grief of
some one too young to be inured to sorrow
or experienced enough to accept it as the
common lot. But like all 3-outliful impres-
sions it is very sincere and true while it
lasts. I don't know whether one gets au}^-
tliing mure real when one gets older."
With an insincerity he could not account
A FIKSJ^ FAMILY' OF TASAJARA. 195
for, he nov/ felfc inclined to defend his previ-
ous sentiment, although all the while con-
scious of a certain charm in his companion's
graceful sixcpticism. lie had in his truth-
fulness and independence hitherto always
hoen quite free from that feeble admiration
of cynicism vv^jiich attacks the intellectually
weak and iniiuature, and his present predi-
lection may liave been due more to her
charming personality. She was not at all
like his sisters ; she had none of Clemen-
tina's cold abstraction, and none of Euphe-
mia's sharp and demoiistrative effusiveness.
And in his secret consciousness of her flat-
terinp; foreknowledge of him, with lier assur-
ance that before tliey liad ever met he had
unwittingly influenced her, he began to feel
more at his ease. His fair companion also,
in the equally secret knowledge she had ac-
quired of his Iiistory, felt as secure as if she
had been formally introduced. Xobody
cinild find f;\ult with lior for showing civility
to the ostensible soii of her host ; it was not
necessary tliat she sliordd be aware of their
family differences. T':cre was a charm too
in tl'.eir enforced isolation, in what was the
excci>tionpI solitude of tlie little hotel that
day, and the scclusi^in of their table l)y the
196 A FIRST FAMIL Y OF TASAJARA.
window of the dining-room, whicli gave a
charming domesticity to their repast. From
time to time they glanced down the lonely
caiion, losing itself in the afternoon shadow.
Nevertheless Mrs. Ashwood's preoccupation
with Nature did not preclude a human curi-
osity to hear something more of John Mil-
ton's quarrel with his father. There was cer-
tainly nothing of the prodigal son about him ;
there was no precocious evil knowledge in
his frank eyes ; no record of excesses in his
healthy, fresh complexion ; no unwholesome
or disturbed tastes in what she had seen of
his rural preferences and understanding of
natural beauty. To have attempted any di-
rect questioning that woidd have revealed
his name and identity would have obliged
her to s])eak of herself as his father's guest.
She began indirectly ; he liad said he had
been a reporter, and he was still a chronicler
of this strange life. lie had of course heard
of many eases of family feuds and estrange-
ments? Her brother had told her of some
dreadful vendettas he liad known in the
Southwest, and liow whole families had been
divided. Since she liad been here she had
heard of odd cases of brothers meeting acci-
dentally after long and unaccounted separa-
A FIKUT FAMILY Of TASAJARA. 197
tions ; of husbands suddenly confronted
witli wives they had deserted ; of fathers eu-
eountei'iug disearded sons I
John Milton's face betrayed no uneasy
consciousness. If anything it was beginning
to glow with a boyish admiration of the
grace and intelligence of the fair speaker,
that was perhaps heightened b}- an assump-
tion of half coquettish discomfiture.
' You are laughing at me I " she said
finally. '' But inhuman and selfish as these
stories may seem, and sometimes are, I be-
lieve that these curious estrangements and
separations often come from some fatal weak-
ness of temperament that might be strength-
ened, or some trivial misunderstanding that
could bo explained. It is separation that
makes them seem irrevocable only because
they arc inexplicable, and a vague memory
always seems more teriible than a definite
one. Facts may be forgiven and forgotten,
but mysteries haunt one always. I believe
there arc weak, sensitive people who dread
to put their wrongs into shape ; those are
the kind who sulk, and when you add sepa-
ration to sulking, reconciliation becomes im-
])Ossible. I knew a very singular case of
that kind once. If you like, I 'U tell it to
rj8 A FJJiST FAMILY OF TAHAJARA.
you. Miiy be you will be able, some day, to
v/e;ivc it into one of your writings. And it 's
qiato true."
It is hardly necessary to say that John
Milton had not been touched by any personal
significance in his companion's speech, what-
ever she may have intended ; and it is equally
true that whether she had presentl}^ forgot-
ten her purpose, or had become suddenly in-
terested in her own conversation, her face
grew more animated, her manner moi'e con-
fidential, and something of the youthful en-
thusiasm she had shown in the mountain
seemed to come back to her.
" I might say it happened anywhere and
call the people M. or N., but it really did
occur in my own family, and although 1 was
much younger at the time it impressed me
very strongly. ^ly cousin, who had been
my playmate, was an orphan, and had been
intrusted to the care of my father, who was
his guardian. lie was always a clever boy,
but singularly sensitive and quick to take
oifensc. Perhaps it was because the little
])r(porty his father liad left made him partly
de])endent on my father, and tliat I was ricli,
but he seemed to feel the disparity in our
positions. 1 was too young to understand
A FIRST FAMILY OF TA8AJARA. 199
it ; I tliiuk it existed only in his imagination,
for I believe we were treated alike. But
I remember that he was full of vague threats
of running away and going to sea, and that
it was part of his weak temperament to ter-
rify me with his extravagant confidences. I
was always frightened wdien, after one of
those scenes, he would pack his valise or
perhaps only tie up a few things in a hand-
kerchief, as in the advertisement pictures of
the runaway slaves, and declare that we
would never lay eyes u])on him again. At
first I never saw the ridiculousness of all
this, for I ought to have told you that
he was a rather delicate and timid boy,
and quite unfitted for a rough life or any
exposure, but others did, and one day I
laughed at him and told him he was afraid.
I shall never forget the expression of his
face and never forgive myself for it. He
went away, but he returned the next
day ! He threatened once to commit suicide,
left Jiis clothes on the bank of the river, and
came home in another suit of clotlies he had
t:ikeii witli him. Vv'lien I was sent abroad
to scliool 1 lost si<;-ht of liim ; when I
returned ho was at college, apparently un-
changed. Wlien he caiue home for vacation,
200 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A
far from having been subdued by contact
with strangers, it seemed that his unhappy
sensitiveness had been only intensified by
the ridicule of liis fellows, lie had even
acquired a most ridiculous theory about the
degrading effects of civilization, and wanted
to go back to a state of barbarism. He said
the wilderness was the only true home of man.
My father, instead of bearing with what I
believe was his infirmity, dryly offered him
the means to try his experiment. lie started
for some place in Texas, saying we would
never hear from him again. A month after
he wrote for more money. jNIy father
replied rather impatiently, I suppose, I
never knew exactly what he wrote. That
was some years ago. He had told the truth
at last, for we never heard from him again."
It is to be feared that John iSIilton was
following the animated lips and eyes of the
fair speaker rather than her story. Perhaps
that was the reason why he said, " ]May he
not have been a disappointed man ? "
'' I don't understand,'' she said simply.
" Perhaps," said John Milton with a boy-
ish blush, " you may have unconsciously
raised liopes in liis iieart and "
"I should hardly attempt to interest a
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 201
chronicler of adventure like you in such a
very commonplace, evcry-day style of ro-
mance,"' she said, with a little impatience,
" (!ven if my vanity compelled me to make
such confidences to a stranger. No, it
was nothing quite as vulgar as that. And,"
she added quickly, with a playfully amused
smile as she saw the young fellow's evident
distress, " I should have ])robably heard
from him again. Those stories always end
in that way."
"And you think?" said John iVIilton.
" I think," said ]Mrs. Ashwood slowly,
" that he actually did commit suicide or
effaced himself in some way, just as firmly
as I helieve he might have been saved by
judicious treatment. Otherwise we should
liave heard from him. You "11 say that 's
only a woman's reasoning but I think our
pc>rceptions are often instinctive, and I knew
his character."
Still following the play of her delicate
features into a romance of his own weaving,
the imaginative young reporter who had
seen so much from the heights of Russian
Hill said earnestly, '' Then I have your
permission to use this material at any fu-
ture time? "
202 A FIRHr FAMILY OF TAHAJAHA.
" Yes," said the lady smilingly.
" And you will not mind if I should take
some liberties with the text?"
" I must of course leave something to
your artistic taste. But you will let me seo
it?"
There were voices outside now, breaking
tho silence of the veranda. They had been
so preoccupied as not to notice the arrival
of a horseman. Steps came along the pas-
sage ; the landlord returned. Mrs. Ash-
wood turned quickly towards him.
" ^/Ir. Grant, of your party, ma'am, to
fetch you."
She saw an unniistakalile change in her
young friend's mobile face. " I will be
ready in a moment," she said to the land-
lord. Then, turning to John IMilton, the
arch-hypocrite said sweetly : " ]My brother
must have known instinctively that I was in
good hands, as he did n't come. But I am
sorry, for I sliould have so liked to intro-
duce liim to you although by tlie v/ay,"
witli a briglit smile, " I don't think you
have yet told me your name. I know I
coidd Ji't h;i\ a for (J otf.cn it."
"llarcourt," said John Milton, with a
lialf-embarrasscd laugh.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAKA. 203
" But you must come and see lue, Mr.
Mr. llarcourt," she said, producing a card
from a case already in her fingers, '* at my
hotel, and let my brother thank you there
for your kindness and gallantry to a stranger.
I shall be here a few weeks longer before
we go south to look ior a })lace where my
brother can winter. Do come and see me,
although / cannot introduce you to anything
as real and beautiful as wluit /jou have
shown me to-day. Good-by, Mr. liarcourt;
I won't trouble you to come down and bore
yourself with riiy escort's tjuestious and con-
gratulations."
She bent her head and allowed her soft
eyes to rest upon his with a graciousness
that was beyond her speech, pulled her veil
over her eyes again, with a pretty sugges-
tion tliat she had no further use for them,
and taking her riding-skirt lightly in her
hand seemed to glide fi'om the room.
On her way to San Mateo, where it aj>
peared the disorganized party had prolonged
their visit to accei)t an invitation to dine
witli a local magnate, she was pleasantly
conversational with the slightly abstracted
CJrant. She was so sorry to have given
them ail this trouble and anxiety ! Of course
204 A F/EST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
she ought to have waited at the fork of the
road, but she had never doubted but she
could rejoin them presently on the main
road. She was glad tliat Miss Euj^hemia's
runaway horse had been stoj^ped without ac-
cident ; it would have been dreadful if any-
thing had happened to Iter ; Mr. Harcourt
seemed so wrapped uj) in his girls. It was a
pity they never had a son Ah ? Indeed !
Then there was a son ? So and father
and son had quarreled ? That was so sad.
And for some trifling cause, no doubt ?
" I believe he married tlie housemaid,"
said Grant grimly. " Be careful ! Allow
me."
" It 's no use ! " said Mrs. Asliwood, fluslu
ing with pink impatience, as she recovered
her seat, wliich a sudden bolt of her mus-
tang had imperiled, " I really can't make
out the tricks of tliis beast I Thank you,"
slie added, with a sweet smile, " but I think
I can manage him now, I can't see why he
stopi)cd. I '11 be more careful. You were
saying tlie son was married surely not
that boy : "
" lioy ! " echoed Grant. " Then you
know ? '"'
" I mean of course he must be a boy
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJABA. 205
they all <^re\v up here and it was only five
or six years ago that their parents emi-
grated," she retorted a little impatiently.
" And what about this creature ? "
" Your liorse? "
" You know I mean the woman he mar-
ried. Of course she was older than he
and caught him ? "
" I think there was a year or two differ-
ence," said Grant quietly.
" Yes, but your gallantry keeps you from
telling the truth ; which is that the women,
in cases of this kind, are much older and
more experienced."
" Are they ? Well, perhaps she is, 7iow.
She is dead."
Mrs. Ashwood walked her horse. " Poor
thing," she said. Then a sudden idea took
possession of her and brought a fdm to her
eyes. "How long ago?" she asked in a
low voice.
" About six or seven months, I think. I
believe there was a baby wlio died too."
She continued to walk her horse slowly,
stroking its curved neck. " I think it 's
perfectly shameful I " she said suddenly.
" Not so bad as that, Mrs. Ashwood,
surely. The girl may have loved him
and he"
206 A FIRST FAMILY Or TASAJAIiA.
" You know perfectly what I mean, Mr.
Grant. I speak of tlie conduct of the
mother and father and those two sisters ! "
Grant slightly elevated his eyebrows.
" But you forget, Mrs. Ashwood. It was
young Ilarcourt and his wife's own act.
They preferred to take their own path and
keep it."
" I think," said Mrs. Ashwood authori-
tatively, " that the idea of leaving those two
unfortunate children to suffer and struggle
on alone out there on the sand hills of
San Francisco was simply disgraceful! "
Later that evening she was unreasonably
annoyed to find that her brother, iMr. John
Shi])ley, had taken advantage of the absence
of Grant to pay marked attention to Clem-
entina, and had even prevailed upon that im-
perious goddess to accompany him after dni-
ner on a moonlight stroll upon the veranda
and terraces of Los J^cjaros. Neverthe-
less she seemed to recover her spirits enough
to talk volubly of the beautiful scenery she
had discovered in her late perilous abandon-
ment in the wilds of the Coast liange ; to
aver her intention to visit it again ; to speak
of it in a severely ])ractlcal way as offering
a far better site for the cottages of the
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASA.IARA. 207
yomig marriod couples just bcginnincf life
tluni tlu! outskirts of towns or the bleak
sand liills of San Francisco ; and thence by
grucx'ful degrees into a dissertation upon
po})idar fallacies in regard to hasty mar-
riages, and the mistaken idea of some parents
in not accepting tlie inevitable and making
the best of it. She still found time to en-
ter into an appreciative and exhaustive criti-
cism upon the literature and journalistic
enterprise of the Pacific Coast with the pro-
prietor of the " Pioneer," and to cause that
gentleman to docla^re that whatever people
might say about rich and fasliionablo East-
ern women, that Mrs. Ashwood's head was
about as ]<".'cl as it was pretty.
Tlic next morning found her more
tlioughtful and sul)dued, and when her
l)rot]icr came upon her sitting on tlie ver-
anda, while the party were pre})aring to re-
turn, sh(} was reading a newspaper slip that
slie had taken from hoi' ])ortc-monnaie, with
a face tliat was partly sliadowed.
" What liave you struck there, Conny ? "
said her brotl^icr gayly, *' It looks too seri-
ous for a recipe."'
" Something I sliould like you to read
some time, Jack,"' slio said, lifting her
208 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
lashes with a slight timidity, " if you would
take the trouble. I really wonder how it
would impress you."
" Pass it over," said Jack Shipley good-
humoredly, with his cigar between his lips.
" I '11 take it now."
She handed him the slip and turned
partly away ; he took it, glanced at it side-
ways, turned it over, and suddenly his look
grew concentrated, and he took the cigar
from his lips.
" Well," she said playfully, turning to
him again. " A\"hat do you think of it ? "
" Think of it ? " he said with a rising
color. "I think it's infamous! Who did
it?"
She stared at him, then glanced quickly
at the slip. "What are you reading?"
she said.
" Tliis, of course," he said impatiently.
" What you gave me." But he was point-
ing to the other side of the newspaper slip.
She took it from him impatiently and
read for the first time the printing on the
reverse side of the article she had treasured
so long. It was the concluding paragraph
of an apparently larger editorial. " One
thing is certain, that a man in Daniel liar-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJ.UiA. 209
court's })()siti(>n cannot afford to pass over
in silence acensations like the above, that
affect not only his private character, but the
integrity of his title to the land that was the
foundation of his fortune. When trickery,
sharp practice, and even criminality in the
past are more than hinted at, they cannot
be met by mere pompous silence or allusions
to private position, social prestige, or distin-
guished friends in the present."'
Mrs. Ashwood turned the slip over with
scornful impatience, a pretty uplifting of
her eyebrows and a slight curl of her lip.
" I suppose none of those people's begin-
nings can bear looking into and they cer-
tainly should be the last ones to find fault
with any])ody. But, good gracious, Jack !
what has this to do with you ? "
" With me ? " said Shipley angrily.
" Why, I proposed to Clementina last
night ! "
CHAPTER IX.
The wayfarers on the Tasajara tnrn])ike,
wliom jMr. Daniel narconrt passed with his
fast trotting mare and sulky, saw that their
great fellow-townsman was more than nsu-
ally prcoccnpied and cnrt in his acknow-
ledgment of their sanitations. N^evortlieless
as he drew near the creek, lie partly checked
liis horse, and when ho reached a sliglit ac-
clivity of the interminable plain ^which
had really been the bank of the creek in
bygone days he ])nlled np, alighted, tied
his horse to a rail fence, and chiinbering
over the inclosnre made his way along tlie
ridge. It was covered with nettles, thistles,
and a few wiry dwarf larches of native
growth; dust from the adjacent higliway
had invaded it, with a few scattered and
torn handbills, waste pa])er, rags, eni])fy
provision cans, and other suburban del)ris.
Yet it Avns the site of 'Lige (^irtis's cal)in,
long since erased and fei'gotlen. Tlie l)e<l
of the old cn-ek had receded; tlie last lulcs
A FIRST Family of tasajaha. 211
had been cleared away ; the channel and cm-
h(ii'cii(Ji'ro were half a mile from the bank
and loi; whereon the pioneer of Tasajara
had idly sunned himself.
Mr. Harcourt walked on, occasionally
turning over tlio scattered objects with his
foot, and stopping at times to examine the
ground more closely. It had not apparently
been disturbed since he himself, six years
ago, had razed the wretched shanty and car-
ried off its timbers to aid in the erection of
a larger cal)in further inland. lie raised
his eyes to the prospect before him, to
the town with its steamboats lying at the
wharves, to the grain elevator, the ware-
houses, the railroad station with its puffing
engines, the flagstaff of Harcourt House and
the clustering roofs of the town, and beyond,
the })aiuted dome of his last creation, the
Free Library. This was all hi?, work, liis
planning, lils foresight, whatever they miglit
say of tlie wandering drunkard from whose
tremulous fingers he had snatched the op-
portunity. They could not take that from
him, liowGver they might follow liim with
envy and reviling, anymore than they could
wrest from him the five years of peaceful
possession. It was with something of the
212 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
prosperous consciousness with wliicli he had
mounted the platform on the opening of the
Free Library, that he now climbed into his
buggy and drove away.
Nevertheless he stopped at his Land Of-
fice as he drove into town, and gave a few
orders. " I want a strong picket fence put
around the fifty-rara lot in block fiftv^-seven,
and the ground cleared u]) at once. Let me
know when the men get to work, and I '11
overlook them."
lieentering his own house in the square,
where iMrs. Ilarcourt and Clementina
who often accompanied him in those busi-
ness visits were waiting for him with
luncheon, he smiled somewhat superciliously
as the servant informed him that "Professor
Grant had just arrived." Really that man
was trying to make the most of his time
with Clementina ! Perhaps the rival attrac-
tions of that Boston swell Shipley had some-
thing to do with it I lie must positively talk
to Clementina about this. In point of fact
he liimself was a little disappointed in Grant,
who, since his offoi' to take the task of hunt-
ing down Ins calumniators, had really done
notliing, lie turned into his study, but was
slightly astonished to find that Grant, in-
A FJliHT FAMIL Y OF TASAJARA. 213
stead of paying court to Clementina in the
adjoining- drawing'-room, was sitting rather
thoughtfully in his own armchair.
lie rose lui llarcourt entered. " 1 did n't
let them announce me to the ladies," he said,
' as I have some imjjortant business with
you first, and we may find it necessary that
1 should take the next train back to town.
You remember that a few weeks ago 1 of-
fered to look into the matter of those slan-
ders against you. I ap})rehended it would
be a trifling matter of envy or jealousy on
the part of your old associates or neighbors
which could be put straight with a little good
feeling ; but I must be frank with you, llar-
court, and say at the beginning that it turns
out to be an infernally ugly business. Call
it cons])iraey if you like, or organized hos-
tility, I "m afraid it will require a lawyer
rather than an arbitrator to manage it, and
the sooner the better. For the most unplea-
sant thing about it is, tliat I can't find out
exactly Iiov hdd it is I "'
I'nfoi'tunately tlie weaker instinct of liar-
court's nature was lirst roused ; the vulgar
rage which confounds the bearer of ill news
with the news itself idled liis breast. '"And
this is all that your confounded intermed-
dling came to? '' lie said bi-utallv.
214 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAHA.
" No," said Grant quietly, with a preoc-
cupied ignoring of the insult that was more
hopeless for Harcourt. " I found out that
it is claimed that this 'Lige Curtis w^as not
drowned nor lost that night ; but that he
escaped, and for three years has convinced
another man that you are wrongfully in pos-
session of this land ; that these two natur-
ally hold you in their power, and that they
are only waiting for you to be forced into
legal proceedings for slander to prove all
thuir charges. Until then, for some reason
best known to themselves, Curtis remains in
the background."
"Does he deny the deed under which I
hold the property?" said Harcourt sav-
agely.
" He says it was only a security for a tri-
fling loan, and not an actual transfer."
" And don't those fools know that his se-
curity could be forfeited ? "
" Yes, but not in the way it is recorded
in the county clerk's office. They say that
the record shows that there was an inter-
poLition in the ])aper he left with you
which was a forgery. Briefly, Harcourt,
you are accused of that. More, it is inti-
mated that when he fell into the creek that
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 215
night, and escaped on a raft that was float-
ing })ast, that he had been first stunned by
a blow from some one interested in getting
rid of him."
He paused and glanced out of the win-
dow.
" Is that all? " asked Ilarcourt in a per-
fectly quiet, steady voice.
'' All I" replied Grant, struck with the
change in his companion's manner, and turn-
ing his eyes l^pon him quickly.
The change indeed was marked and sig-
nificant. Whether from relief at knowing
the worst, or whether he was experiencing
the same reaction from the utter falsity of
this last accusation that he had felt when
Grant had unintentionally wronged him in
his previous recollection, certain it is that
some unknown reserve of strength in his
own nature, of which he knew nothing be-
fore, suddenly came to his aid in this ex-
tremity. It invested him with an uncouth
dignity that for the first time excited Grant's
res})ect.
" I beg your pardon, Grant, for the hasty
way I s]ioke to you a moment ago, for I thank
you, and npprcciato thoroughly and sincerely
what you have done. You are right ; it is a
21G A FIJiST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
matter for fighting and not fussing over.
But 1 must have a head to hit. Whose is
it?"
" The man who holds himself legally re-
sponsi])le is Fletcher, the proprietor of the
' Clarion,' and a man of property."
" The ' Clarion ' ? That is the paper which
began the attack?" said llarcourt.
" Yes, and it is only fair to tell 3'ou here
that your son threw up his place on it in
conse(pience of its attack upon you."
There was perhaps the slightest possible
shrinking in Ilarcourt's eyelids the one
congenital likeness to his discarded son
but his otherwise calm demeanor did not
change. Grant went on more cheerfully :
" I 've told you all I know. AVhen I spoke
of an unknown worst, I did not refer to any
further accusation, but to whatever evidence
they might have fabricated or suborned to
prove any one of them. It is only the
strength and fairness of the hands they hold
that is uncertain. Against that you have
your certain uncontested })Ossession, the pe-
culiar character and antecedents of this 'Lige
Curtis, whicli would make his evidence un-
trustworthy and even make it difficult for
them to establish his identity. I am told
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 217
that liis failure to contest your appropriation
of his property is explained by the fact of
liis being absent from the country most of
the time ; but again, this would not account
for their silence until within the last six
months, unless they have been waiting for
further evidence to establish it. But even
then they must liave known that the time of
recovery had passed. You are a practical
man, llarcourt ; I need n't tell you therefore
what your lawyer will })robably tell you, that
practically, so far as your rights are con-
cerned, you remain as before these calum-
nies ; that a cause of action unprosecuted or
in abeyance is practically no cause, and that
it is not for you to anticipate one. IJut "
lie paused and looked steadily at liar-
court, llarcourt met his look with a dull,
ox-like stolidity. '"I shall begin the suit at
once,"' he said.
''And I," said Grant, holding out his
hand, " will stand by you. Ikit tell me now
wliat you knew of this man Curtis, his
character and disposition ; it may be some
clue as to what are his methods and his in-
tentions."
llarcourt briefly sketched "Lige Curtis as
he knew him and understood him. It was
218 A FfRST FAMILY OF TAHA.JAliA.
another iridicalioii oi his reserved power
that the descrij)lioii was so singularly clear,
practical, uiijjrejndiced, and impartial that
it impressed Grant with its truthfulness.
" J can't make liim out," he said ; " you
Lave drawn a weak, but neither a dislujnest
nor nuilignjint man. There must have lx;en
somebody Iw'hind him. Can you think of
any ])ersonal enemy?"
" 1 ha\'e been subjected to 1h(; usual jeal-
ousy and envy of my old neighbors, I suj)-
pos(;, but n(jthing more. 1 have harmed no
one knowingly."
Grant was silent; it had flashed across
hinj that liice might ha\'e harbored revenge
for his father-in-law's interferciuce in his
brief matrimonial experience. lie had also
suddenly recalled his conversation with IJil-
lings on the day that he first arrived at Ta-
sajara. It wnidd not be; strange if this man
had sonu' intimati(jii of llu; secret, lie would
tj'y to find him that, evening, lie rose.
" You will stay to dinner ? My wife and
(Jlc;mentina \'>'ill expect you."
" Xdt to-night; 1 am dining at the hotel,"
said (iranl. siiiiiiiigly ; "but I will come in-
later in the (xcning i f 1 may." llejiaused
hesitatingly for a moment '' Have your
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASA./ARA. 219
w\U' and (lauijlitfr oxer oxprosaod any opin-
ion on lliis uiattcr '( "
" iVo,'' 8ai(l llarconrt. " ]\rr.<. llareonrf,
kno\v> notliinji; of aiiytliinc; that doos not.
lia])]){'n /// tiio lionso ; En])hcniia knows only
the thinii's that happcni out of it whore she
is visiting and I sn])poso tliat yonnii; mon
])\vivY to talk to her abont other things than
the slanders of her father. And ('leinen-
tina Avell, yon know llo^v calm and sn-
])erior to thesc^ t"hin<i;s sjic. is."
'' For that yerv reason I tlionc^ht that ]ier-
liaps sh(^ miiiht be abk' to see them inore
eleai'ly, bnt no nuittc;]'! L darc^ say you
are quite riirht in not disctussinci; them at
liome.'' 'J'his was the fact, althouii'Ii Grant
had not fcu'ii'otten that llarconrt had ])ut
for^\ard his danu'htci's as a reason for stojv
})inir the scandal some weeks ])efor(\ a
reason wdiicli, however, seemed ne\'(>r to
lia\'e been ])oi'ne out. by any a])parent s(;nsi-
tiveness of tlie gli'ls themsel\-es.
When (iraiit had left, Jlai'coiirt remained
for -oiiie iiK.imoiits steadfastly ^'azintr from
th(^ window o\-er the 'I'a-ajara ])lain. lie
ha<l not jo-t his look of concentrated ])ower,
nor his dcternniiatioii to lin'ht. A strna'^K'
])etween, hims(dt' and the ])hantoms of the
220 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
past had become now a necessary stimulus
for its own sake, for the sake of his men-
tal and physical equipoise. He saw before
him the pale, agitated, irresolute features of
*Lige Curtis, not the man he had injured,
but the man who had injured Aim, whose
spirit was aimlessly and wantonly for he
had never attempted to get back his posses-
sions in his lifetime, nor ever tried to com-
municate with the possessor striking at
him in the shadow. And it was that man,
that pale, writhing, frightened wretch whom
he had once mercifully helped I Yes, whose
life he had even saved that night from ex-
posure and delirium tremens when he had
given him the whiskey. And this life he had
saved, only to have it set in motion a con-
spiracy to ruin him I AVho knows that 'Lige
had not purposely conceived what they
had believed to be an attempt at suicide,
only to cast suspicion of murder on hbn !
From which it will be perceived that Har-
court's powers of moral reasoning had not
improved in five years, and that even the
impartiality he liad just shown in his descrip-
tion of Lige to Grant had been swallowed
up in tliis new sense of injiiry. The founder
of Tasajara, whose cool business logic, un-
A FIEST FAMILY OF TASAJAKA. 221
failing foresight, and practical deductions
were never at fault, was once more childishly
adrift in his moral ethics.
And there was Clementina, of whose judg-
ment Grant had spoken so persistently,
covdd she assist him ? It was true, as he had
said, he had never talked to her of his affairs.
In his sometimes uneasy consciousness of her
superiority he had shrunk from even reveal-
ing his anxieties, much less his actual secret,
and from anything that might prejudice the
lofty paternal attitude he liad taken towards
his dau<ilaters froin the be^'inninof of his fjood
fortune. He was never quite sure if her ac-
ceptance of it was real ; he was never entirely
free from a certain jealousy that always min-
gled with his pride in her superior rectitude ;
and yet his feeling was distinct from the
good-natured contempt he had for his wife's
loyalty, the anger and suspicion that his son's
opposition had provoked, and the half-affec-
tionate toleration he had felt for Euphemia's
waywardness. However he would sound
Clementina without betraying liimself.
He was anticipated by a slight step in the
passage and the pushing open of his stud}'
door. The tall, graceful figure of the girl
herself stood in the opening.
222 A FIRST FAMIL Y OF TASAJARA.
" They tell me Mr. Grant has been here.
Does he stay to dinner ? "
" No, he has an engagement at the hotel,
but he will probably drop in later. Come
in, Clemmy, I want to talk to you. Shut
the door and sit down."'
She slipped in quietly, shut the door, took
a seat on the sofa, softly smoothed down her
gown, and turned her graceful head and se-
renely composed face towards him. Sitting
thus she looked like some finely finished
painting that decorated rather than belonged
to the room, not only distinctly alien to
the flesh and blood relative before her. but
to the house, and even the local, monotonous
landscape beyond the window witli the shin-
ing new shingles and chimneys that cut tlie
new blue sky. These singular perfections
seemed to increase in Ilarcourt's mind the
exasperating sense of injury inflicted upon
him by 'Lige's exposures. With a daughter
so incomparably gifted, a matchless crea-
tion that was enough in herself to ennoble
tliat fortune which his own skill and genius
had lifted from the muddy tides of Ta-
sajara where this "Lige had left it, that
,sAe should be subjected to this annoyance
seemed an infamy that Providence could not
A FlIiST FAMILY OF TASAJAUA. 223
allow! What was his nioro venial ti'aiis-
i;'rt'>si(in to this cxaa'uvratcd reli'iljulioii (
" (,'leiiniiy, irirl, I'm going to ask you a
f|nosrioti. Listen, pet." lie had begun with
a reminiscent tenderness of the epoch of hei-.
eliihlliood, but meeting the iinresponding
matu.ritv of her clear eyes he abandoned it.
' \ ou know, Clementina, 1 have never inter-
fered in your affairs, nor tried to iniluence
your friendshi})s for anybody. Whatever
penple may lun-e to say of me they can't say
that; I've always trusted you, as I would
myself, to choose your own associates; I
have never regi'etted it, and 1 don't regret
it now. But I'd like to know I have
reas(.)ns to-day for asking how matters
stand between you and Grant."
The I'arian head of ^MinerA'a on the
bookca.-e abo\-e hei' did not otter the specta-
teir a face le>s frt'C from maidenly confusion
than Clementina's at that moment. Her
fatliL-r had certainly ex])e('ted iione, but he
was not ])re])art'd f(U' the perfect coolness
of \\cv reply.
'])o you mean, liax'c I acccpicd him?"
' Xn, well y.-."
Xn, ihi'ul Is tluil what he wi-hed to
se(^ von abi'Ut i It was understood that he
224 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
was not to allude again to the subject to anv
one."
" He has not to me. It was only my own
idea. He had something very different to
tell me. You may not know, Clementina,"
he begun cautiously, " that I have been
lately the subject of some anonymous slan-
ders, and Grant has taken the trouble to
track them down for me. It is a calumny
that goes back as far as Sidon, and I may
want your level head and good memory to
help me to refute it." He then repeated
calmly and clearly, with no trace of the fury
that had raged within him a moment before,
the substance of Grant's revelation.
The young girl listened without apparent
emotion. When he had finished she said
quickly : " And what do you want me to
recollect ? "
The hardest part of Harcourt's task was
coming. " Well, don't you remember that I
told you the day the surve3'ors went away
that I had bought this land of 'Lige
Curtis some time before ? "
" Yes, I remember your saying so, but '"
" But what ? "
" 1 thought you only meant that to satisfy
mother."
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 225
Daniel Harcourt felt the blood settling
round his heart, but he was constrained by
an irroeistible impulse to know the worst.
" Well, what did you think it really was ? "
" I only thought that 'Lige Curtis had
simply let you have it, that 's all."
Harcourt breathed again. " But what
for? Why should he?"
"Well on my account.''^
" On your account ! What in Heaven's
name had you to do with it ?"
" He loved me." There was not the slight-
est trace of vanity, self -consciousness or
coquetry in her quiet, fateful face, and for
this very reason Harcourt knew that she was
speaking the truth.
" Loved you ! you, Clementina ! my
daugliter I Did ho ever tell you so ? "
" Not in words. He used to walk up and
down on the road when I was at the back
window or in the garden, and often hung
about the bank of the creek for hours, like
some animal. I don't think the others saw
him, and when they did they thought it was
Parmlee for Euphemia. Even Euphemia
thought so too, and that was why she was so
conceited and hard to Parmlee towards the
end. She thought it was Parmlee that night
H Bret Ilarte v 2^
226 A FIRUT FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A.
when Grant and Rice came ; but it was 'Lige
Curtis who had been watching the window
lights in the rain, and who must have gone
off at last to speiik to you in the store. 1
always let Pheuiic believe that it was Parm-
lee, it seemed to please her."
There was not the least tone of mischief
or superiority, or even of patronage in her
manner. It v/as as quiet and cruel as the
fate that might have led "Li'0 to his de-
structiou. Even her father felt a slight thrill
of awe as she paused. " Then he never
really spoke to you ? " he asked liurriedly.
" Only once. I was gathering swamp lilies
all alone, a mile below the bend of the creek,
and he came upon me suddenly. I^erhaps it
was that I did n't jump or start / did n't
see anything to jumj) or start at that he
said, ' You 're not friglitened at me, Miss
iiarcourt, like the otiier girls ? You don't
think I 'm drunk or half mad as tiiey do ? '
I don't remember exactly what I said, l)ut it
meant that wlietiier he was drunk or lialf
mad or so])er I did n't see any reason to l)e
afraid of laim. And then he told me tiuit
if 1 was fond of swamp lilies I miglit liavo
all I wanted at his place, and for tlie iintter
of that the place too, as he was going away, for
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAUA. 221
he could n't stand the loneliness any longer,
lie said that he had nothing in common with
the place and the peo[)le no more than /
had and that was what he had always
fancied in me. 1 told him that if he felt in
that way about his place he ought to leave it,
or sell it to some one who cared for it, and
go away. That must have been in his mind
when he offered it to you, at least that 's
what I thought when you told us you had
bought it. I did n't knovs^ but what he might
have told you, but you did n't care to say it
before mother."
Ivir. llarcourt sat gazing at her with
breatluuss amazement. " And you think
that 'Ligo Curtis lov liked you ? "
' Yes, 1 think he did and that he docs
now ! "
' uXoto I Wliat do you mean ? The man
is dead I " said llarcourt starting.
' That "s just what I don't believe."
" lm})ossible ! Think of what you are
saying."
'' 1 never could quite understand or feel
that he was dead when everybody said so,
and now tliat I 've Jicard this story I hnov.
that he is living."
" F)ut wliv did he not make himself known
in time to claim the ])ror-i'rty ? "
228 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAJiA.
" Because he did not care for it."
" What did he care for, then ? "
"Me, I suppose."
" But this calumny is not like a man who
loves you."
"It is like a jealous one."
With an effort llarcourt threw off his
bewildered incredulity and grasped the situa-
tion. He would have to contend with his
enemy in the flesh and blood, but that flesh
and blood would be very weak in the hands
of the impassive girl beside him. His face
lightened.
The same idea might have been in Clem-
entina's mind when she spoke again, al-
though her face had remained unchanged.
" I do not see why you should bother your-
self further about it," slie said. " It is only
a matter between myself and him ; you can
leave it to me."
" But if you are mistaken and he should
not be living? "
" I am not mistaken. I am even certain
now tliat I have seen him."
" Seen him ! "
" Yes," said the girl with tlic first trace
of animation in her face. " It was four or
five months ago when we were visiting the
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA. 229
Briones at iVIonterey. We had ridden out
to the old iVIissiou by moonlight. There
were some Mexicans lounging around the
j)0,sad(i, and one of them attracted my atten-
tion by the way he seemed to watch me,
without revealing any more of his face than
I could see between his scrape and the black
silk handkerchief that was tied around his
head under his somhrero. But 1 knew he
was an American and his eyes were fa-
miliar. I believe it was he."
" Why did you not speak of it before ? "
The look of animation died out of the
girFs face. "Why should I?" she said
listlessly. " I did not know of these reports
then. lie was nothing more to us. You
would n't have cared to see him asrain."
She rose, smoothed out her skirt and stood
looking at her father. " There is one thing,
of course, that you "11 do at once."
Her voice had changed so oddly that he
said quickly : " What "s that ? "
"Crxll Grant off the scent. He '11 only
frigliten or exasperate your game, and that 's
what you don't want."'
Her voice was as im])erious as it had been
previously listless. And it was the first
time he had ever known her to use slauir.
230 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS A JAR A.
It seemed as startling as if it had fallen
from the marble lips above him.
" But I 've prouiised him that we should
go together to my lawyer to-morrow, and be-
gin a suit against the proprietors of the
'Clarion.'"
"Do nothing of the kind. Get rid of
Grant's assistance in this m.atter ; and see
the ' Clarion ' pro})rietor yourself. AVhat
sort of a man is he ? Can you invite him to
your house ? "
" I have never seen him ; I believe he
lives at San. Jose. He is a wealthy man
and a large land ovrner there. You under-
stand that after the urst article api)eared in
his paper, and I knew that he had employed
your brother although Grant says that he
had nothing to do with it and left Fletcher
on account of it I could have no inter-
course with him. Even if I invited him he
would not come."
" lie m}ist come. Leave it to me." She
stopped and resumed her former impassive
manner. " I had something to say to you
too, father. I\Ir. Slii])loy proposed to me
the day we went to San Mateo."
Her father's eyes lit with an eager sparlde.
" Well," he said quickly.
A FJlilST FAMILY OF TAISAJAKA. 281
" I reminded him that I had known liim
only a few weeks, and that I wanted time to
consider."
" Consider ! Why, Clemmy, lie 's one of
the oldest Boston families, rich from l;is
fatlier and grandfather rich when I was a
s]ioj)koeper and yonr mother " -
" I thought you lilced Grant ? " she said
quietly.
" Yes, but if 1/021 have no choice nor feel-
ing in the matter, wliy Shipley is far tlio
better man. And if any of the scand:d
shoidd come to his ears "
" So much the better that the hesitation
should come from mo. But if you think it
better, I can sit down hero and write to him
at once declining the offer." She moved
towards the desk.
"No! No! I did not mean that," said
Ilarcourt quickly. " I only' thought that if
lie did hear anything it miglit be said that
he had ba.cked out."
'* His sister knows of his offer, and thougli
she don't like it nor me, she will not deny
tliG fact. By the way, yori remember when
she was lost that day on the road to San
Mateo '? "
" Yes."
232 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" A\'ell, she was vvitli your son, John Mil-
ton, all the time, and they lunched together
at Crystal Spring. It came out quite acci-
dentally through the hotel-keeper."
Harcourt's brow darkened. " Did she
know him before ? "
" I can't say; but she does now."
Harcourt's face was heavy with distrust.
" Taking Shiple3"'s offer and these scandals
into consideration, I don't like the look of
this, Clementina."
" I do," said the girl simply.
Harcourt gazed at her keenly and with
the shadow of distrust still upon him. It
seemed to be quite impossible, even with
what he knew of her calmly cold nature,
that she should be equally uninfluenced by
Grant or Shipley. Had she some stead-
fast, lofty ideal, or perliaps some already ab-
sorbing passion of which he knew nothing ?
She was not a girl to betray it they would
only know it when it was too late. Could
it 1)0 possible that tiiere was still something
between her and "Lige that he knew nothing
of? The thought struck a chill to his breast.
She was walking towards the door, when he
recalled liimself with an effort.
" If vou think it advisable to see Fletcher,
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 233
yt)u luight run down to San eJose for a day
or two with your mother, and call on the
Kamirez. They may know him or somebody
who does. Of course if you meet him and
casually invite him it woidd be different."
' It "s a good idea,'' she said quickly.
" I'll do it, and speak to mother now."
He was struck by the change in her face
and voice ; they had both nervously light-
ened, as oddly and distinetl}' as they had be-
fore seemed to grow suddenly harsh and
aggressive. She passed out of the room
with girlish brusqueness, leaving him alone
with a new and vague fear in his conscious-
ness.
A few hours later Clementina was stand-
ing before the window of the drawing-room
tluit overlooked the outskirts of the town.
The moonlight was flooding the vast bluish
Tasajara levels with a faint lustre, as if the
waters of the creek had once more returned
to them. In the shadow of the curtain be-
side her Grant was facing her with anxious
eyes.
' Then I must take this as your final an-
swer, Clementina ? "
" You must. And had I known of these
234 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
calumnies before, had you been frank with
me even the day we went to San Mateo, my
answer would have been as iinal then, and
you might have been spared any further
suspense. I am not blaming you, Mr.
Grant ; I am willing to believe that you
thought it best to conceal this from me,
even at that time when you had just pledged
yourself to find out its truth or falsehood,
yet my answer would have been the same.
So long as this stain rests on my father's
name I shall never allow that name to be
coupled with yours in marriage or engage-
ment ; nor will my pride or yours allow us
to carry on a simple friendship after this.
I thank you for your offer of assistance, but
I cannot even accept that which might to
others seem to allow some contingent claim.
1 would rather believe that when you pro-
posed this inquiry and my father permitted
it, you both knew that it put an end to any
other relations between us."
" Jiut, Clementina, you are wrong, believe
me ! Say tliat 1 have been foolish, indiscreet,
mad, still the few who knew that I made
these inquiries on your fatlier's behalf know
nothing of my liojjes of you ! "
" But /do, and that is enough for me."
^1 FllUrr FAMILY OF TAi^AJAJCA. 235
Even in the hopeless prcoccnpation of his
p:igsi()!i he siiilJoiily looked at lier with
sonietluni;- of his old critical scrutiny. ]>at
she stood there calm, concentrated, self-pos-
sessed and upright. Yes! it was iJossihlc
that the jn-ide of this Southwestern shop-
keeper's daughter was greater tlian l:is ov.'n,
" Then 3'ou banish me, Cle;nentina ?"
" It is we whom t/ou have ];anishcd."
" (iood-night."
" Good-l.y."
lie bent for an instant over her cold hand,
and then passed out into t])e liall. She re-
mained listening until the front door closed
beliir.d iiini. Then she ran swiftly through
the liall and u]) tlie staircase, with an alac-
rity tliat seemed impossible to the stat(-lv
goddess of a moment bcfoi^e. When she had
reached her bedroom and closed the d(*or. so
exuberant still and so uncontrollable v,\as
her levity aii;l action, tliat v/ithout going
round the bod which stood before her in the
centre of the room, she })laeed her two hands
upon it and lightly vaulted sideways across
it to reach tlie v,i)ulo\v. There she watched
the figure of (h'ant crossing th(^ moondit
stpiai'e. Tlv^Mi turning bade into the lialf-
lit room, she ran to the small dressing-ghiss
236 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
placed at an angle on a toilet table against
the wall. With her palms grasping her
knees she stooped down suddenly and con-
templated the mirror. It showed what no
one but Clementina had ever seen, and
she herself only at rare intervals, the
laughing eyes and soul of a self-satisfied,
material-minded, ordinary country-girl !
CHAPTER X.
Bi"T Mr. Lawrence Grant's character in
certain circumstances would seem to have as
startling and inexplicable contnulictions as
Clementina Ilarcourt's, and three days later
he halted his horse at the entrance of Los
Gatos Kancho. The Home of the Cats
so called from the catamounts which infested
the locality which had for over a cen-
tury lazily basked before one of the hottest
caiions in the Coast Range, had lately been
stirred into some activity by the American,
Don Diego Fletcher, who had bought it, put
up a saw-mill, and deforested the canon.
Still there remained enougli suggestion of a
feline haunt about it to make Grant feel as
if he had tracked hither some stealthy enemy,
in spite of the peaceful intimation conveyed
by the sign on a rough boarded shed at the
wayside, that the " Los Gatos Land and
Lumber Company " held their office there.
A cigarette-smoking j)eon lounged before
the door. Yes ; Don Diego was there, but
238 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
as he had arrived from Santa Clara only last
night and was going to Colonel Ramirez that
afternoon, he was engaged. Unless the busi-
ness was important but the cool, deter-
mined manner of Grant, even more than
his words, signiiied that it luas important,
and the servant led the way to Don Diego's
presence.
There certainl}" was nothing in the ap-
pearance of this sylvan proprietor and news-
paper capitalist to justify Grant's suspicion
of a surreptitious foe. A handsome man
scarcely older than himself, in spite of a
wavy mass of perfectly white hair which con-
trasted singularly v/ith his brown mustache
and dark sunburned face. So disu'uisiu":
was the effect of these contradictions, that
he not only looked unlike anybody else, but
even his nationality seemed to be a matter of
doubt. Only his eyes, light blue and intel-
ligent, which had a singular exjaression of
gentleness and worry, appeared individual to
the man. Ilis manner was cultivated and
easy. He motioned his visitor courteously
to a chair.
" I was referred to you," said Grant, al-
most abruptly, "as the person responsil.'j
for a series of slanderous attacks au'aiiist
A FIRST FAMILY OF TA.'iAJAIiA. 239
Mr. Duuiel llarcourt in the ' Clarion,' of
which paper 1 believe you are the pro})rie-
tor. 1 was told that you declined to give the
authority for youi' action, unless you were
forced to by legal proceedings."
Fletcher's sensitive blue eyes rested upon
Grant's with an expression of constrained
ptun and pity. '" I heard of your inquiries,
Mr, Grant ; you were making them on be-
half of this Mr. Ilarcourt orllarkutt"
he made the distinction with intentional
deliberation " with a view, I believe, to
some arbitration. The case was stated to
you fairly, I think ; I believe 1 have nothing
to add to it."
' That was your answer to the ambassador
of Mr. llarcourt," said Grant, coldly, "and
as such I delivered it to him ; but I am here
to-day to speak on my own account."
What could be seen of ^Ir. Fletcher's
li[)S ap})eared to curl in an odd smile. " In-
deed, 1 thought it wiis or would be all
in the family."
Grant's face grew more stern, and his gray
eyes glittered. " You "11 ihid my status in
this ni'vtter so far indej)endent that I don't
propose, like l\ir. llarcourt, either to begin
a suit or to rest quietly under the calumny.
240 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
Briefly, Mr. Fletcher, as you or your inform-
ant knows, I was the surveyor who revealed
to Mr. Harcourt the value of the land to
which he claimed a title from your man,
this Elijah or 'Lige Curtis as you call him,"
he could not resist this imitation of his
adversary's supercilious affectation of jirecise
nomenclature, " and it was upon my repre-
sentation of its value as an investment that
he began the improvements which have made
him wealthy. If this title was fraudulently
obtained, all the facts pertaining to it are
sufficiently related to connect me with the
conspiracy."
" Are you not a little hasty in your pre-
sumption, Mr. Grant?" said Fletcher, with
unfeigned surpi-ise.
" That is for me to judge, Mr. Fletcher,"
returned Grant, haughtily.
" But the name of Professor Grant is
known to all California as beyond the breath
of calumny or suspicion."
"It is because of that fact tliat I propose
to keep it so."
" jVnd may I ask in what way you wish me
to assist you in so doing ? "
" By promptly and publicly retracting in
the ' Clarion ' every word of this slander
acrainst Harcourt."
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAKA. 241
Fletcher looked steadfastly at the speaker.
" And if I decline ? "
" 1 think you have been long enough in
California, Mr. Fletcher, to know the alter-
native expected of a gentleman," said Grant,
coldly.
Mr. Fletcher kept his gentle blue eyes
in which surprise still overbalanced their
expression of pained concern on Grant's
face.
" But is not this more in the style of
Colonel Starbottle than Professor Grant ? "
he asked, with a faint smile.
Grant rose instantly with a white face.
" You will have a better opportunity of judg-
ing," he said, " when Colonel Starbottle has
the honor of waiting upon you from me.
^leantime, I thank you for reminding me of
the indiscretion into which my folly, in still
believing that this thing could be settled ami-
cably, has led me."
He bowed coldly and withdrew. Never-
theless, as he mounted his horse and rode
away, he felt his cheeks burning. Yet he
had acted upon calm consideration ; he knew
that to the ordinary Californian experience
there was nothing cpiixotic nor exaggerated
in the attitude he had taken. Men had
242 A FllitST FAMILY OF TAiSAJARA.
quarreled aud f ouglit on less grounds ; he
had even half convinced himself that he had
been insulted, aud that his own professional
reputation demanded the withdrawal of
the attack on Ilarcourt on purely business
grounds ; but he was not satisfied of the
personal responsibility of Fletcher nor of
his gratuitous malignity. Nor did the man
look like a tool in the hands of some unscru-
pulous and hidden enemy. However, he had
played his card. If he succeeded only in
j)rovoking a duel with Fletcher, he at least
would divert the public attention from Har-
court to himself. He knew that his superior
position would tlu'ow the lesser victim in the
background. He would make the sacrifice ;
that was his duty as a gentleman, even if she
w\)uld not care to accept it as an earnest of
his unselfish love !
He had reached the point where the moun-
tain track entered the Santa Clara turnpike
when his attention was attracted by a hand-
some but old-fashioned carriage drawn by
four white mules, which passed dowai the
road before him and turned suddenly off into
a })rivatc road. Ikit it was not this pictur-
escpie gala e(iui})age of sonic local Sjninish
craudee that brouirht a thrill to his nerves and
A FIRST FAMILY OF 'J ASA./. IRA. 243
a flasli to his eye ; it was tlic unniistakahle,
tall, elegant figure and handsome profile of
Clementina, reclining in light gauzy wraps
against the back seat ! It was no fanciful
resemhlance, the outcome of his reverie,
there never was any one like her ! it vxis
siie herself ! But what v/as she doing here?
A voqvcro cantered from tlie cross road
where the dust of the vehicle still hung.
Gi-ant hailed him. Ah ! it was a fine car-
roza (Je cuatro miiJas that he had just
passed ! Si, Senor, truly ; it was of ])on
Jose Kamirez, who lived just under the hill.
It was bringing comprniy to the crt.^v.
Karalrez ! That v/as where Fletcher v/as
going ! Had Clementina known that he v.as
one of Fletcher's friends ? i> light she not bo
exposed to impleasantness, marked coolness,
or even insult in that unexpected meeting ?
Ouglit she not to be warned or prepared for
it? She had banished Grant from her pres-
ence until this stain was removed from her
father's name, but could she blame him for
trying to save her from contact with her
father's slanderer ? Xo ! lie turned his
horse abruptly into the cross road and
spurred forward in the direction of the casa.
It was (pute visible now a low- walled,
244 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
quadrangular mass of whitewashed adobe
lying like a drift on the green hillside. The
carriage and four had far preceded him,
and was already half up the winding road
towards the house. Later he saw them
reach the courtyard and disappear within.
He would be quite in time to speak with her
before she retired to change her dress. He
would simply say that while making a pro-
fessional visit to Los Gatos Land Company
office he had become aware of Fletcher's
connection with it, and accidentally of his
intended visit to Ramirez. His chance
meeting with the carriage on the highway
had determined his course.
As he rode into the courtyard he observed
that it was also approached by another road,
evidently nearer Los Gatos, and probably
the older and shorter communication be-
tween the two ranelios. The fact was sig-
nificantly demonstrated a moment later.
He had given his horse to a servant, sent in
his card to Clementina, and had dropped
listlessly on one of the benches of the gal-
lery surrounding the patio, when a horse-
man rode briskly into the opposite gateway,
and dismounted with a familiar air. A
waiting jjeori who recognized him informed
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 245
him that the Dona was engaged with a vis-
itor, but that they were both returning to
the gallery for chocolate in a moment. The
stranger was the man he had left only an
hour before Don Diego Fletcher !
In an instant the idiotic fatuity of his po-
sition struck him fully. His only excuse
f(u- following Clementina hatl been to warn
her of the coming of this man who had just
entered, and who would now meet her as
quickly as himself. For a brief moment the
idea of quietly slipping out to the corral,
mounting his horse again, and flying from
the rancho, crossed his mind ; but the
thought that he would be running away
from the man ho had just challenged, and
perhaps some new hostility that had sprung
u]) in his heart against him, compelled him
to remain. The eyes of both men met ;
Fletcher's in half - wondering annoyance,
Grant's in ill-concealed antagonism. What
they would have said is not known, for at
that moment the voices of Clementina and
^Irs, Kamirez were heard in the passage, and
they both entered the gallery. The two
men were standing together ; it was impos-
sible to see one without the other.
And yet Grant, whose eyes were instantly
24G A FlliST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
directed to Clementina, thought that she
had noted neither. She remained for an
instant standing in the doorway in the same
soli-posscssed, coldly graceful pose he re-
membered she had taken on the platform
at Tasajara. Her eyelids wei'e slightly
downcast, as if she had been arrested by
some sudden thought or some shy maiden
sensitiveness ; in hor hesitation Mrs. Rami-
rez passed impatiently before lier,
" Mother of God ! " said that lively lady,
regarding the two speechless men, " is it an
indiscretion we are making here or are
you dumb ? You, Don Diego, are loud
enough when you and Don Josd are to-
gether ; at least introduce your friend."
Grant quickly recovered himself. " I am
afraid," he said, coming forward, " unless
Miss Harcourt does, that I am a mere tres-
passer in your house, Senora. I saw her pp.ss
in yoiir carriage a few moments ago, and hav-
ing a message for her I ventured to follo.v
lier here."
" It is Mr. Grant, a friend of my fa-
ther's," said Clementina, smiling with equa-
nimity, as if just awakening from a momen-
tary abst]'action, yet apparently unconscious
of Grant's inqdoring eyes ; " but the other
A FfRST FAMILY OF TASAJAKA. 247
gentleman I have not the pleasure of know-
ing."
' Ah ! Don Diego Fletelier, a country-
nian of yours ; and yet I think he knows
you not."
Clementina's face betrayed no indication
of the presence of her father's foe, and yet
Grant knew that she must have recognized
his name, as she looked towards Fletcher
with perfect self-possession. lie was too
much engaged in watching her to take note
of Fletcher's manifest disturbance, or the
evident effort with which he at last bowed
to her. That this unexpected double meet-
ing with the daugliter of the num he had
wronged, and the man wiio had espoused
tlic quarrel, should be confounding to him
appeared only natural. But he was unpre-
])arcd to understand the feverish alacrity
with which he accepted Doiia ]\iaria's invi-
tation to chocolate, or the equally animated
wiiy in which Clementina threw herself into
her hostess's Spanish levity. He knew it
was an awkward situation, that must be sur-
mounttxl without a scene ; he was quite pre-
pared in the presence of (Jlemcntina to be
civil to Fletcher; but it was odd tliat in tliis
feverish exchange of courtesies and conip'li-
248 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA.
ments he, Grant, should feel tlie greater
awkwardness, and be the most ill at ease.
lie sat down and took his part in the con-
versation ; he let it transpire for Clemen-
tina's benefit that lie had been to Los Gatos
only on business, yet there was no oppor-
tunity for even a significant glance, and he
had the added embarrassment of seeing that
she exhibited no surprise nor seemed to at-
tach the least importance to his inopj)ortune
visit. In a miserable indecision he allowed
himself to be carried away by the high-flown
hospitality of his Spanish hostess, and con-
sented to stay to an early dinner. It was
part of the infelicity of circumstance that
the voluble Do iia Maria electing him as
tlie distins^uished stransrer above the resident
Fletcher monopolized him and attached
him to her side. She would do the honors
of her house ; she must show him the ruins
of the old Mission beside the corral; Don
Diego and Clementina would join them pres-
ently in the garden. He cast a despairing
glance at the placidly smiling Clementina,
wlio was ap]:)arently equally indifferent to
tlie evident constraint and assumed ease of
the man b(\^Ide lier, and turned away with
Mrs. Kamirez.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAEA. 249
A silence fell upon the gallery so deep
tiKit the receding voices and footsteps of
( J rant and his hostess in the long passage
v/ere distinctly heard until they reached the
ciul. Tlien Fletcher arose with an inarticu-
Iiite exclamation. Clementina instantly put
lier finger to her lips, glanced around the
gallery, extended her hand to him, and say-
ing " Come," half-led, half-dragged him into
the passage. To the right she turned and
pushed open the door of a small room that
seemed a combination of l)oudoir and ora-
tory, lit by a French window opening to the
garden, and flanked by a large black and
white crucifix with a prlc Dicu beneath it.
Closing the door beliind them she turned
and faced her com])anion. ]5ut it was no
longer the face of the woman who had been
sitting in the gallery ; it was the face that
had looked back at her from the mirror at
Tasajara the night that Grant had left her
eager, flushed, material with commonplace
excitement !
' "Lige Curtis," she said.
'' Yes," he answered ])assionately, "Lige
Curtis, whom you thought dead ! 'Lige Cur-
tis, whom you once ])itied. condoled with and
despised I "Lige Curtis, whose lands and
250 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA.
property have enriched you ! 'Lige Curtis,
who would have shared it with you freely at
the time, but whom your father juggled and
defrauded of it I Lige Curtis, branded by
him as a drunken outcast and suicide ! 'Lige
Curtis "
" Hush ! " She clapped her little hand over
his mouth with a ({uick but awkward school-
girl gesture, inconceivable to any who had
known her usual languid eleg'.inee of motion,
and held it there. lie struggled angrily, im-
patiently, reproachfully, and then, wuth a
sudden characteristic weakness that seemed
as much of a revelation as her once hoy-
denish manner, kissed it, when she let it
drop. Then placing both her hands still
girlishly on her slim waist and curtseying
grotesquely before him, she said : " "Lige
Curtis I Oh, yes ! 'Lige Curtis, who swore to
do everything for me ! 'Lige Curtis, who
promised to give up liquor for me, who
was to leave Tasajara for me ! 'Lige Curtis,
who was to reform, and keep his land as a
iiest-ogL; for i;s both in the future, and then
who sold it and himself and me to
dad for a glass of v/hisl^ey I 'Lige Curtis,
who disa])pcarcd, and then let us think he
was dead, only tliat he might attack us out
of tlie ambush of liis irrave 1 "
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 251
" Yes, but think what / have siili'ered all
these years ; not for the cursed laud you
know 1 never cared for tluit but for you,
you, Clementina, ijou rich, admired by
every one ; idolized, held far above me,
iiu\ the forgotten outcast, the wretched sui-
cide and yet the man to whom you had
once plighted your troth. AV^hich of those
greedy fortune-hunters whom my money
my life-blood as you might have thought it
was attracted to you, did you care to tell
that you had ever slipped out of the little
garden gate at Sidou to meet that outcast !
Do you wonder that as tlie years passed and
yoii were haj^py, / did not choose to be so
forgotten ? Do you wonder that when you
shut the door ou the past / managed to open
it again if only a little way that its light
might startle you ? "
Yet she did not seem startled or disturbed,
and remained only looking at him critically.
' You say tluiL you hr.vc suffered," she
re])lied with a smile. " You don't look it .*
Your hair is white, but it is becoming to you,
anil you arc a handsomer man, 'Lige Curtis,
tiian you were when I fii'st met you ; you are
fnier, "' slie went on. ;-.liil regarding him,
" stronger and healtliier than you were five
252 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
years ago ; you are rich and prosperous, you
have everything to make you hajjjjy, but "
here she laughed a little, held out both her
hands, taking his and holding his arms apart
in a rustic, homely fashion " but you are
still the same old 'Lige Curtis ! It was like
you to go off and hide yourself in that idiotic
way ; it was like you to let the property slide
in that stupid, unselfish fashion ; it was like
you to get real mad, and say all those mean,
silly things to dad, that did n't hurt him in
your regular looney style : for rich or poor,
drunk or sober, ragged or elegant, plain or
handsome, you 're always the same 'Lige
Curtis ! "
In proportion as that material, practical,
rustic self which nobody but 'Lige Curtis
had ever seen came back to her, so in
proportion the irresolute, wavering, weak
and emotional vagabond of Sidon came out
to meet it. He looked at her with a vague
smile ; his five years of cliildish resent-
ment, albeit carried on the shoulders of a
man mentally and morally her superior,
melted away. He drew her towards him,
yet at the same moment a (piick susj^icion
returned.
" Well, and what are you doing here ?
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 253
Plas this man who has followed you any
right, any claim upon you ? "
" None but what you in your folly have
forced upon him ! You have made him fa-
ther's ally. I don't know why he came here.
I only know why / did to find i/ou ! "
" You suspected then ? "
" I 'knev^ ! Hush ! "
The returning voices of Grant and of
Mrs. Ramirez were heard in the courtyard.
Clementina made a warning yet girlishly
mirthful gesture, again cauglit his hand,
drew him ({uickly to the Frcncli window, and
slipped through it with liim into the garden,
where they were quickly lost in the shadows
of a ceanothus hedge.
" They have probably met Don Jose in
the orchard, and as he and Don Diego have
business together, Doua Clementina has with-
out doubt gone to her room and left them.
For you are not very entertaining to the
ladies to-daj', you two vahdllcros 1 You
have much [)olitics together, eh ? or you
have discussed and disagreed, eh? I will
look for the Seilorita, and let you go, Don
Distraido ! "
It is to be feared that ( rrant's apologies and
attempts to detain her were equally feeble,
254 A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A,
as it seemed to him that this was the only
chance he might have of seeing Clementina
except in company with Fletcher. As Mrs.
liamirez left he lit a cigarette and listlessly
walked up and down the gallery. But Cle-
mentina did not come, neither did his hostess
return. A subdued step in the passage
raised his hopes, it was only the grizzled
major donio, to show him his room that he
might prepare for dinner.
lie followed mechanically down the long
passage to a second corridor. There was a
chance that he might meet Clementina, but
he reached his room v/ithout encountering
any one. It was a large vaulted apartment
with a single windovr, a deep embrasure in
the thick wall tliat seemed to focus like a
telescope some forgotten, sequestered part of
the leafy garden. AVhile washing liis hands,
gazing absently at the green vignette framed
by the dark onenins?', his attention was drawn
to a movcmoit of the foliage, stii'red appar-
ently ]jy tiie rai)id passage of two half-hidden
figures. The (juick liasli of a feminine skirt
seemed to indicate the coy flight of some
rom})i])g maid of the aisa, and the pursuit
and struggle of her vaqiicro swain. To a
despairing lover even the spectacle of iuno-
A FIUSJ' I'A.MILY OF TASAJ.llCA. ^i'lij
cent, pustoral ]ia])pincss in otlicrs is not jipt
to 1)0 sootiiing, and Grant was turning- im-
patiently away when he suddenly stf)pped
with a rigid face and quickly a})proached tie
window. In her struggles with the unseen
Cor^'don, the clustering leaves seemed to have
yielded at tlie same moment Vvith the coy
Cldoris, and parting disclosed a stolen
kiss ! Grant's hand lay like ice against the
wall, P\)r, disengaging Fletcher's arm from
her waist and freeing lier skirt from the
foliage, it was the calm, ])assionless Clemen-
tina herself who stepped out. and moved pen-
sively towards the casa.
CHAPTER XI.
" Readers of the ' Clarion ' will have no-
ticed that allusion has been frequently made
in these columns to certain rumors con-
cerning the early history of Tasajara which
were supposed to affect the pioneer record
of Daniel Ilarcourt. It was deemed by
the conductors of this journal to be only
consistent with the fearless and independ-
ent duty undertaken by the ' Clarion ' that
these rumors should be fully chronicled as
part of the information required by the read-
ers of a first-class newspaper, unbiased by
any consideration of the social position of
the parties, but simply as a matter of news.
For this the ' Clarion ' does not deem it ne-
cessary to utter a word of apology. But for
that editorial comment or attitude which
tlie proprietors felt was justified by the reli-
able sources of their information they now
consider it only diic in lionor to themselves,
their roachn-s, and Mr, Ilarcourt to fully and
freely apologize. A patient and laborious
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA. 257
investigation enables them to state that
the alleged facts published by the ' Clarion '
and copied by other journals are utterly un-
supported by testimony, and the charges
d,I though more or less vague which were
based upon them are equally untenable.
We are now satisfied that one ' Elijah Cur-
tis,' a former pioneer of Tasajara who dis-
appeared five years ago, and was supj^osed
to be drowned, has not only made no claim
to the Tasajara property, as alleged, but has
given no sign of his equally alleged resusci-
tation and present existence, and that on the
minutest investigation there apjDears Hothing
either in his disappearance, or the transfer
of his property to Daniel Harcourt, that
could in any way disturb the uncontested
title to Tasajara or the unimpeachable char-
acter of its present owner. The whole story
now seems to have been the outcome of one
of those stupid rural hoaxes too common in
California."
" "Well," said Mrs. Ashwood, laying aside
the ' Clarion ' with a skeptical shrug of her
pretty shoulders, as slie glanced up at her
brother; ''I suppose this means that you are
going to propose again to the young lady?"
I Bret Harte v. 22
258 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" I have," said Jack Shipley, " that 's the
worst of it and got my answer before this
came out."
" Jack ! " said Mrs. Ashwood, thoroughly
surprised.
" Yes ! You see, Conny, as I told you
three weeks ago, she said she wanted time to
consider, tliat she scarcely knew me, and
ail that ! Well, I thought it was n't exactly
a gentleman's business to seem to stand off
after that last attack on her father, and so,
last week, I went down to San Jose, where
she was staying, and begged her not to keep
me in suspense. And, by Jove ! she froze me
v/ith a look, and said that with these asper-
sions on her father's character, she preferred
not to be under obligations to any one."
" And you believed her? "
" Oh, hang it all I Look here, Conny, I
wish you 'd just try for once to find out some
good in that family, besides what that senti-
mental youijg widower John Milton may
have. You seem to think because the}^ 've
quarreled with hi?n there is n"t a virtue left
among tliom."
Far from seeming to offer any suggestion
of feminine retaliation, Mrs. Ashwood smiled
sweetly. ' My dear Jack, 1 have no desire
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 259
to keep _\o;i from tidying- your luck again with
Mi.ss CleinL'utiiia, il that's what you mean,
and indeed I should n't be surprised if a
family who felt a mesalliance as sensitively
as the Ilarcourts felt that affair of their
son's, would be as lieenly alive to the advan-
ta;.;es of a good match for tlieir daugliter.
As to young Mr. Ilarcourt, he never talked
to me of the vices of his family, nor has he
lately troubled me much with the presence
of his own virtues. I have n't heard from
him since we came here."
" 1 suppose he is satisfied with the gov-
ernment berth you got for him," returned
her brother dryly.
" He was very grateful to Senator Flynn,
who appreciates his talents, but who offered
it to him as a mere question of fitness,"
replied Mrs. Ashwood with great precision
of statement. " ]3ut you don't seem to know
he declined it on account of his other work."
" Preferred his old Bohemian ways, eh ?
You can't change those fellov/s, Conny.
They can't get over tlie fascinations of vaga-
bondage. Sorry jour la(Iy-])atroness scheme
did n't work. Pity you could u't have pro-
moted him in the lino of liis profession, as
the Grand Duchess of Girolstein did Fritz."
260 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" For Heaven's sake, Jack, go to Clem-
entina! You may not be successful, but
there at least the perfect gentlemanliness
and good taste of your illustrations will not
be thrown away."
" I think of going to San Francisco to-
morrow, anyway," returned Jack with af-
fected carelessness. " I 'm getting rather
bored with this wild seaside watering place
and its glitter of ocean and hopeless back-
ground of mountain. It 's nothing to me
that ' there 's no land nearer than Japan '
out there. It may be very healthful to
the tissues, but it 's weariness to the spirit,
and I don't see why we can't wait at San
Francisco till the rains send us further south,
as well as here."
He had walked to the balcony of their sit-
ting-room in the little seaside hotel where
this conversation took place, and gazed dis-
contentedly over the curving bay and sandy
shore before him. After a slight pause Mrs.
Ashwood stepped out beside him.
" Very likely I may go with you," she
said, with a perceptible tone of weariness.
" We will see after the post arrives."
" By the way, there is a little package for
you in my room, that came this morning. I
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 2G1
brought it up, but forgot to give it to you.
You '11 fiud it on my table."
Mrs. Aslnvood abstractedly turned away
and entered her brother's room from the
same balcony. The forgotten parcel, which
looked like a roll of manuscript, was lying
on his dressing-table. She gazed attentively
at the handwriting on the wrapper and then
gave a quick glance around her. A sudden
and subtle change came over her. She nei-
ther flushed nor paled, nor did the delicate
lines of expression in her face quiver or
cliange. But as she held the parcel in her
hand her whole being seemed to undergo some
exquisite suffusion. As the medicines which
the Arabian physician had concealed in the
liollow handle of the mallet permeated tlie
languid royal blood of Persia, so some vol-
atile balm of youth seemed to flow in upon
her with the contact of that strange missive
and transform her weary spirit.
" Jack ! " she called, in a high clear voice.
But Jack had already gone from the bal-
cony when she reached it with an elastic
step and a quick youthful swirl and rustling
of her skirt. lie was lighting his cigar in
the garden.
"Jack," she said, leaning half over the
262 A FIRST FAMILY OF TA is A JAR A.
railing, " come Lack here in an hour and
we '11 talk over that matter o yours again."
Jack looked up eagerly and as if he might
even come up then, but she added quickly,
' In about an hour I must think it over,"
and withdrew.
She reentered the sitting-room, shut the
door carefully and locked it, half pulled
down the blind, walking once or twice around
the table on which the parcel lay, with one
eye on it like a graceful cat. Then she
suddenly sat down, took it up witli a grave
practical face, examined the postmark curi-
ously, and opened it with severe deliberation.
It contained a manuscript and a letter of
four closely written pages. She glanced at
the manuscript with bright approving eyes,
ran her fingers through its leaves and then
laid it carefully and somewhat ostentatiousl}^
on the table beside her. Then, still holding
the letter in her hand, she rose and glanced
out of the window at her bored brother
loungino; towards the beach and at the heav-
ing billows beyond, and returned to her scat.
This apparently im])ortant preliminary con-
cluded, she began to read.
Tliere were, as ah-eady stated, four blessed
pages of it ! All vital, earnest, palpitating
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 263
with youthful energy, preposterous in pre-
mises, precipitate in conclusions, yet irre-
sistible and convincing to every woman in
their illogical sincerity. There was not a
word of love in it, yet every page breathed
a wholesome adoration ; there was not an
epithet or expression that a gi'eater prude
than Mrs. Ash wood would have objected to,
yet every sentence seemed to end in a caress.
There was not a line of poetry in it, and
scarcely a figure or simile, and yet it was po-
etical. Boyislily egotistic as it was in atti-
tude, it seemed to be written less q/" himself
than to her ; in its delicate because uncon-
scious flattery, it made her at once the pro-
vocation and excuse. And yet so potent
was its individuality that it required no sig-
nature. No one but John Milton Harcourt
could have written it. His personality
stood out of it so strongly that once or twice
Mrs. Ashwood almost unconsciously put up
her little hand l)efore her face with a half
mischievous, half-deprecating smile, as if the
big liouest eyes of its writer were upon her.
It began by an elaborate apology for de-
clinhig the appointment offered him by one
of her tT'iends, wliich he was bold enough to
think had been 23rompted by her kind heart.
264 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJABA.
That was like her, but yet what she might
do to any one ; and he preferred to think of
her as the sweet and gentle lady who had
recognized his merit without knowing him,
rather than the powerful and gracious bene-
factress who wanted to reward him when she
did know him. The crown that she had all
unconsciously placed upon his head that af-
ternoon at the little hotel at Ciystal Spring
was more to him than the Senator's appoint-
ment ; perhaps he was selfish, but he could
not bear that she who had given so much
should believe that he could accept a lesser
gift. All this and much more ! Some of it
he had wanted to say to her in San Francisco
at times when they had met, but he could not
find the words. But she had given him the
courage to go on and do the only tiling he
was fit for, and he had resolved to stick to
that, and perhaps do something once more
that might make him hear again her voice as
he had heard it that day, and again see the
light that had shone in her eyes as she sat
there and read. And this was why he was
sending her a manuscript. She might have
forgotten that she had told liim a strange
story of her cousin wlio liad disappeai'cd
which she thought he miijht at some time
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 265
work up. Here it was. Perhaps she might
not recognize it again, in the way he had writ-
ten it here ; perhaps she did not really mean
it when she had given him permission to
use it, hut he remembered her truthful eyes
and believed her and in any event it was
hers to do with what she liked. It had been
a great pleasure for him to write it and think
that she would see it ; it was like seeing
her himself that was in his hetter self
more worthy the companionship of a beauti-
ful and noble woman than the poor young
man she would have helped. This was why
he had not called the week before she went
away. But for all that, she had made his
life less lonely, and he should be ever grate-
ful to her. He could never forget how she
unconsciously sympathized with him that
day over the loss that had blighted his life
forever, yet even then he did not know
that she, herself, had paissed through the same
suffering. But just here the stricken widow
of thirty, after a vain attempt to keep up
the knitted gravity of her eyebrows, bowed
her dimpling face over the letter of the
blighted widower of twenty, and laughed so
long and silently that the tears stood out like
dew on her light-brown eyelashes.
266 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
But she beoame presently severe again,
and finished her reading of the letter gravely.
Then she folded it carefully, deposited it in
a box on her table, which she locked. After
a few minutes, however, she unlocked the
box again and transferred the letter to her
pocket. The serenity of her features did
not relax again, although her pre\aous pretty
prepossession of youthful spirit was still in-
dicated In her movements. Going into her
bedroom, she reappeared in a few minutes
with a light cloak thrown over her shoulders
and a white-trimmed broad-brimmed hat.
Then she rolled up the manuscript in a pa-
per, and called her French maid. As she
stood there awaiting her with the roll in her
hand, she might have been some young girl
on her way to her music lesson.
" If my brother returns before I do, tell
him to wait."
" Madame is going "
" Out," said Mrs. Ashwood blithely, and
tripped downstairs.
She made her way directly to the shore
where slie remembered tliere was a grouj) of
rocks affording a shelter from the north-
west trade winds. It was reached at low
water by a narrow ridge of sand, and here
A fJIiST FA.\fI!.y Or- T.if!.lJAIiA. 2G7
she had often basked in the sun Nvith her
book. It was here that she now unrolled
John IVIilton's nianuscri{)t and read.
It was the story she had told him, but in-
terpreted by his poetry and adorned by his
fancy until the facts as she remembered
them seemed to be no longer hers, or indeed
truths at all. She had always believed
her cousin's unhappy temperament to have
been tlie result of a moral and physical idio-
syncras}-, she found it here to be the ef-
fect of a lifelong and hopeless passion for
herself ! The ingenious John Milton had
given a poet's precocity to the youth v.houi
she had only known as a sus})icious, moody
boy, had idealized him as a sensitive but
songless Byron, had given him the added
infirmity of pulmonary weakness, and a
handkerchief that in moments of great ex-
citement, after having been hurriedly
pressed to his pale lij)s, was withdrawn
" with a crimson stain." Opposed to this
interesting figure the more striking to her
as she had been hitherto haunted by the im-
pression that her cousin during his boyhood
had been subject to facial eruption and boils
was ]i( r own equally idealized self.
Cruelly kind to her cousin and gentle with
2G8 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
his weaknesses while calmly ignoring their
cause, leading him unconsciously ste]) by
step in his fatal passion, he only becajue
aware by accident that she nourished an
ideal hero in the person of a hard, proud,
middle-aged practical man of the world,
her future husband ! At this picture of the
late Mr. Ashwood, who had really been an
indistinctive social bo?i vivant, his amiable
relict grew somewhat hysterical. The dis-
covery of her real feelings drove the con-
sumptive cousin into a secret, self-imposed
exile on the shores of the Pacific, where he
hoped to find a grave. But the complete
and sudden change of life and scene, the
balm of the wild woods and the wholesome
barbarism of nature, wrought a magical
change in his physical health and a phi-
losophical rest in his mind. He married
the daughter of an Indian chief. Years
passed, the heroine a rich and still young
and beautiful widow unwittingly sought
the same medicinal solitude. Here in the
depth of the forest she encountered her
former playmate : the passion which he had
fondly supposed was dead revived in her
presence, and for the first time she learned
from his beaided lips the secret of his pas-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAILL 269
sion. Alas ! not she alone ! The contiguous
forest could not be bolted, out, and the Indian
wife heard all. Kecognizing the situation
with aboriginal directness of purpose, she
committed suicide in the fond belief that it
would reunite the survivors. But in vain ;
the cousins parted on the spot to meet no
more.
Even Mrs. Ash wood's predilection for the
youthful writer could not overlook the fact
that the denouement was by no means novel
nor the situation human, but yet it was here
that she was most interested and fascinated.
The description of the forest was a descrip-
tion of the wood where she had hrst met
llarcoun ; the charm of it returned, until
she almost seemed to again inhale its bal-
samic freshness in the pages before her.
Now, as th'jn, her youth came back with the
same longing and regret, Ijut more bewild-
ering than all, it was herself that moved
there, painted with the loving hand of the
narrator. For the first time she experienced
tlie delicious flattery of seeing herself as
only a lover could see lier. The smallest
detail of her costume was suggested witli an
accuracy that pleasantly thrilled her femi-
nine '"o:iso. The grace of her figure slowly
270 A FlR>iT FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
moving through the shadow, the curves of
her arm and the delicacy of her hand that
held the bridle rein, the gentle glow of her
softly rounded cheek, the sweet mystery of
her veiled eyes and forehead, and the escap-
ing gold of her lovely hair beneath her hat
were all in turn masterfully touched or ten-
derly suggested. And when to this was
added the faint perfume of her nearer pres-
ence the scent she always used the deli-
cate revelations of her withdrawn gauntlet,
the bracelet clasping her white wrist, and at
last the thrilling contact of her soft hand on
his arm, she put down the manuscript and
blushed like a very girl. Then she started.
A shout I his voice surely ! and the
sound of oars in their rowlocks.
An instant revulsion of feeling overtook
her. With a quick movement she instantly
hid the manuscript beneath her cloak and
stood up erect and indignant. Not twenty
yards away, apparently advancing from the
o])posite shore of the bay, was a boat. It
contained only Jolm Milton, resting on his
oars and scanning the group of rocks anx-
iously. His face, wliicli was quite stiained
with anxiety, suddenly llusliod when he saw
her, and then recogiii>;ing the unmistakable
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 271
significance of her look and attitude, jxilcd
once more. He bent over his oars again ; a
few strokes brought him close to the rock.
" I beg your pardon," he said hesitatingly,
as he turned towards her and laid aside his
oars, " but I thought you were in
danger."
She glanced quickly round her. She had
forgotten the tide ! The ledge between her
and the shore was already a foot under
brown sea^water. Yet if she had not
thought that it would look ridiculous, she
would have leaped down even then and
waded ashore.
" It 's nothing," she said coldly, with the
air of one to whom the situation was an
everyday occurrence ; " it 's only a few steps
and a slight wetting and my brother
would have been here in a moment more."
.fohn Milton's frank eyes made no secret
of his mortiiieation. " I ought not to have
disturbed you, I know," he said quickly, "I
liad no right. But I was on the other shore
opposite and I saw you come down here
that is " he blushed prodigiously "I
thought it m,i</ht be you and I ventured
I mean won't you let me row you
ashore ? "
272 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
There seemed to be no reasonable excuse
for refusing. She slipped quickly into the
boat without waiting for his helping hand,
avoiding that contact which only a moment
ago she was trying to recall.
A few strokes brought them ashore. He
continued his explanation with the hopeless
frankness and persistency of youth and in-
experience. " I only came here the day be-
fore yesterday. I would not have come, but
Mr. Fletcher, who has a cottage on the other
shore, sent for me to offer me my old place
on the * Clarion.' I had no idea of in-
truding upon your privacy by calling here
without permission."
Mrs. Ashwood had resumed her conven-
tional courtesy without however losing her
feminine desire to make her companion pay
for the agitation he had caused her. " We
would have been always pleased to see you,"
she said vaguely, " and I hope, as you are
here now, you will come with me to the ho-
tel. My brother "
But he still retained his hold of the boat-
ropc without moving, and continued, " I saw
you yesterday, through the telescope, sitting
in your balcon}'^ ; and later at night I think
it was your shadow I saw near the blue
A FIEST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 273
shaded lamp in the sitting-room by the win-
dow, I don't mean the red lamp that you
have in your own room. I watched you until
you put out the blue lamp and lit the red
one. I tell you this because because
I thought you might be reading a manuscript
I sent you. At least," he smiled faintly,
" I Ulced to think it so."
In her present mood this struck her only
as persistent and somewhat egotistical. But
she felt herself now on ground where she
could deal firmly with him.
" Oh, yes," she said gravely. " I got it
and thank you very much for it. I intended
to write to you."
" Don't," he said, looking at her fixedly.
" I can see you don't like it."
" On the contrary," she said promptly,
" I think it beautifully written, and very in-
genious in plot and situation. Of course it
is n't the story I told you I did n't expect
that, for I 'm not a genius. The man is
not at all like my cousin, you know, and
the woman well really, to tell the truth,
she is simply inconceivable ! "
" You think so ? " he said gravely. lie
had been gazing abstractedly at some shin-
ing brown seaweed in the water, and when
274 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
he raised his eyes to hers they seemed to
have caught its color.
" Think so ? I 'm positive ! There 's no
such a woman ; she is n't human. But let
us walk to the hotel."
" Thank you, but I must go back now."
" But at least let my brother thank you for
taking his place in rescuing me. It was
so thoughtful in you to put off at once when
you saw I was surrounded. I might have
been in great danger."
" Please don't make fun of me, Mi's. Ash-
wood," he said with a faint return of his
boyish smile. "You know there was no dan-
ger. I have only interrupted you in a nap
or a reverie and I can see now that you
evidently came here to be alone."
Holding the manuscript more closely hid-
den under the folds of her cloak, she smiled
enigmatically. " I think I did^ and it seems
that the tide thought so too, and acted upon
it. But you will come up to the liotel with
me. surely ? "
" No, I am going back now." There was
a sudden firmness about the young fellow
which she had never l)eforo noticed. Tliis
was evidently tlie creature who had married
in spite of his family.
A FIRUT FAMILY OF TASAJAHA. 275
" Won't you come back long enough to
take your manuscript? I will point out the
])art 1 refer to, and we will talk it over."
" There is no necessity. I wrote to you
that you might keep it ; it is yours ; it was
written for you and none other. It is quite
enough for me to know that you were good
enough to read it. But will you do one
tiling more for me ? Kead it again ! If you
find anything in it the second time to change
your v^iows if you find "
" I will let you know," she said quickly.
'' I will write to you as I intended."
" No, I did n't mean that. I meant that
if you found the woman less inconceivable
and more human, don't write to me, but put
your red lamp in your window instead of the
blue one. I will watch for it and see it."
" 1 think 1 will bo able to explain myself
much better with sim]ile pen and ink," she
said di'yly, '' and it will be much more useful
to you."
He lifted his hat gravely, shoved off the
boat, leaped into it, and before she could
hold out lier hand was twenty feet away.
She turned and ran (juickly up the rocks.
When she reached the hotel, she could see
the boat already half across the bay.
276 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
Entering her sitting-room she found that
her brother, tired of waiting for her, had
driven out. Taking the hidden manuscript
from her cloak she tossed it with a slight
gesture of impatience on the table. Then
she summoned the landlord.
" Is there a town across the bay ? "
" Xo ! the whole mountain-side belongs to
Don Diego Fletcher. He lives away back
in the coast range at Los Gatos, but he has
a cottage and mill on the beach."
" Don Diego Fletcher Fletcher ! Is he
a Spaniard then ? "
" Half and half, I reckon ; he 's from the
lower country, I believe."
" Is he here often ? "
" Not much ; he has mills at Los Gatos,
wheat ranches at Santa Clara, and owns a
newspaper in 'Frisco ! But he 's here now.
There were lights in his house last night,
and his cutter lies off the point."
" Could you get a small package and note
to him ? "
" Certainly ; it is only a row across the
bay."
" Thank you."
Without removing her hat and cloak she
sat down at the table and began a letter to
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 211
Don Diego Fletcher. She be<^ged to inclose
to him a manuscript which she was satis-
fied, for the interests of its author, was
better in his hands than hers. It had been
given to her by the author, Mr. J. M. Ilar-
court, whom she understood was engaged
on Mr. Fletcher's paper, the "Clarion." In
fact, it had been written at her suggestion,
and from an incident in real life of which
she was cognizant. She was sorry to say
that on account of some very foolish criticism
of her own as to t\\& facts, the talented young
author had become so dissatisfied with it as
to make it possible that, if left to himself,
this very charming and beautifully written
story would remain unpublished. As an
admirer of Mr. Ilarcourt's genius, and a
friend of his family, she felt that such an
event would be deplorable, and she therefore
begged to leave it to Mr. Fletcher's delicacy
and tact to arrange with the author for its
publication. She knew that Mr. Fletcher
had only to read it to be convinced of its re-
markable literary merit, and she again would
impress upon him the fact tha,t her playful
and thoughtless criticism which was per-
sonal and confidential was only based upon
the circumstances that the author had reallv
278 -1 FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
made a more beautiful and touchiuj^ story
than tlie poor facts which she had furnished
seemed to warrant. She had only just learned
the fortunate circumstance that Mr. Flet-
cher was in the neighborhood of the hotel
where she was staying with her brother.
With the same practical, business-like
directness, but perhaps a certain unbusiness-
like haste superadded, she rolled up the
manuscript and dispatched it with the letter.
This done, however, a slight reaction set
in, and having taken off her hat and shawl,
she dropped listlessly on a chair by the
window, but as suddenly rose and took a seat
in the darker part of the room. She felt
that she had done right, that highest but
most depressing of human convictions' It
was entirely for his good. There was no rea-
son why his best interests sliould suffer for
his folly. If anybody was to suffer it was
slie. But wliat nonsense was she thinking !
She would write to liira later when she vras a
little cooler, as she had said. But then he
had distinctly told her, and very rudely too,
that he did n't want her to write. Wanted
her to make sir/r^ah to him, the idiot! and
probal)iy was oven now watching her with a
telescope. It was really too preposterous I
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAEA. 279
The result was that her brother found
her on his return in a somewhat uncertain
mood, and, as a counselor, variable and con-
flicting in judgment. If this Clementina,
who seemed to have the family qualities of
obstinacy and audacity, really cared for him,
she certainly would n't let delicacy stand in
the way of letting him know it and he was
therefore safe to wait a little. A few mo-
ments later, she languidly declared tliat .she
was afraid that she was no counselor in such
matters ; really she was getting too old to take
any interest in that sort of thing, and she
never had been a matchmaker ! By the way
now, was n't it odd that this neighbor, that
rich cajiitalist across the bay, should be called
Fletcher, and "James Fletcher" too, for
Diego meant " James " in Spanish. Exactly
the same name as poor " Cousin Jim " wlio
disappeared. Did ho remember her old
playinate Jim ? But her brother thought
something else was a deuced sight more odd,
namely, that this same Don Diego Fletcher
was said to be very sweet on Clementina
now, and was always in her company at tlie
Kamircz. And that, with this " Clarion "
apology on the top of it, looked infernally
queer.
280 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
Mrs. Ashwood felt a sudden consternation.
Here had she Jack's sister just been
taking Jack's probable rival into confidential
correspondence ! She turned upon Jack
sharply :
" Why did n't you say that before ? "
" I did tell you," he said gloomily, " but
you did n't listen. But what difference does
it make to you now ? "
" None whatever," said Mrs. Ashwood
calmly as she walked out of the room.
Nevertheless the afternoon passed wearily,
and her usual ride into the upland caflon
did not reanimate her. For reasons known
best to herself she did not take her after-
dinner stroll along the shore to watch the
outlying fog. At a comparatively early
hour, while there was still a roseate glow in
the wastern sky, she appeared with grim
deliberation, and the blue lamp-shade in her
hand, and placed it over the lamp which she
lit and stood on her table beside the window.
Tliis done she sat down and began to write
with bright-eyed but vicious complacency.
" But you don't want tliat light and the
window, Constance," said Jack wonderingly.
Mrs. Ashwood could not stand the dread-
ful twilight.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJAIiA. 281
" But take away your lamp and you '11
have light enough from the sunset," re-
sponded Jack.
That was just wliat she did n't want ! The
light from the window was that horrid vulgar
red glow which she hated. It might be very
romantic and suit lovers like Jack, but as
she had some work to do, she wanted the
blue shade of the lamp to correct that dread-
ful glare.
CHAPTER XIL
John Milton had rowed back without
liftmg his eyes to Mrs. Ashwood's receding
figure. He believed tliat he w^as right in
declining her invitation, althougli he had a
miserable feeling that it entailed seeing her
for the last time. With all that he believed
was his previous experience of the affections,
he was still so untutored as to be confused
as to his reasons for declining, or his right
to have been shocked and disappointed at
her manner. It seemed to him sufficiently
plain that he liad offended the most perfect
woman he had CA'cr known without knowing
more. The feeling he had for her was none
the less powerful because, in his great sim})li-
city, it v/as vague and unformulated. And it
was a part of this strange simplicity that in
his misei^able loneliness his thoughts turned
unconsciously to his dead wife for sympathy
and consolation. Loo would have under-
stood him I
Mr. Fletcher, who had received him on
A FIIiST FAMILY OF TASAJAI-^A. 283
liis arrival with singular effusiveness and
cordiulitr, liad put off their final arrange-
uicuts until after dinner, on account of press-
ing business. It was therefore with some
surprise that an hour before the time he was
summoned to Fletcher's room. lie was still
more surprised , to find him sitting at his
desk, from which a number of business pa-
pers and letters had been hurriedly thrust
aside to make way for a manuscript. A
single glance at it was enough to sliow the
unhap})y Jolui Milton that it w^as the one
he had sent to ]\Irs. Ashwood. The cole:
flushed to his cheek and he felt a mist bciforo
his eyes. His employer's face, on the con-
trary, was quite pale, and his eyes were fixed
on llarcourt with a singidar intensity. Ilis
vo'cc too, althougli under great control, was
hard and strange.
" K>':ul that," he said, handing the young
man a h'tter.
The color again streamed into John Mil-
ton's face as he recognized the l:and of Mrs.
.Vshwood, and remained there while he read
it. AVhen he put it down, however, ho
raised his frank eyes to I'detchcr's, and
said with a certain dignity and manliness :
" What she says is the truth, sir. J3ut it is
28-4 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
/alone who am at fault. This manuscript
is merely my stupid idea of a very simple
story she was once kind enough to tell me
when we were talking of strange occurrences
in real life, which she thought I might some
time make use of in my work. I tried to
embellish it, and failed. That 's all. I will
take it back, it was written only for her."
There was such an irresistible truthful-
ness and sincerity in his voice and manner,
that any idea of complicity with the sender
was dismissed from Fletcher's mind. As
Harcourt, however, extended his hand for
the manuscript Fletcher interfered.
" You forget that you gave it to her, and
she has sent it to me. If /don't keep it, it
can be returned to her only. Now may I
ask wIk) is this lady who takes such an in-
terest in your literary career ? Have you
known her long ? Is she a friend of your
family ? "
The slight sneer that accompanied his ques-
tion restored the natural color to the young
man's face, but kindled his eye ominously.
" No," he said briefly. " I met her acci-
dentally about two months ago and as acci-
dentally found out that she had taken an in-
terest in one of the first thintjs I ever wrote
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 285
for your })aper. She neither knew you nor
me. It was then that she told me this story ;
she did not even then know who I was, though
she had met some of my family. She was
very good and has generously tried to help
me."
Fletcher's eyes remained fixed upon him.
" But this tells me only ivkat she is, not
who she is."
" I am afraid you must inquire of her
brother, Mr. Shipley," said ilarcourt curtly.
" Shipley ? "
" Yes ; he is traveling with her for his
health, and they are going south when the
rains come. They are wealthy Philadelphi-
ans, I believe, and and she is a widow."
Fletcher picked up her note and glanced
again at the signature, " Constance Ash-
wood." There was a moment of silence,
when he resumed in quite a different voice :
" It 's odd I never met them nor they me."
As he seemed to be waiting for a re-
sponse, John Milton said simply : " I sup-
pose it 's because they have not been here
long, and are somewhat reserved."
Mr. Fletcher laid aside the manuscript
and letter, and took up his apparently sus-
pended work.
286 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
" When you see this Mrs. Mrs. Ash-
wood again, you might say "
" I shall not see her again," interrupted
John Milton hastily.
Mr. Fletcher shrugged his shoulders.
" Very well," he said with a peculiar smile,
" I will write to her. Now, Mr. Harcourt,"
he continued with a sudden business brevity,
" if you please, we "11 drop this affair and
attend to the matter for which I just sum-
moned you. Since yesterday an important
contract for which I have been waiting is
concluded, and its performance will take me
East at once. I have made arrangements
that you will be left in the literary charge
of the ' Clarion.' It is only a fitting rec-
ompense that the paper owes to you and
your father, to whom I hope to see you
presently reconciled. But we won't discuss
that now ! As my affairs take me. back to
Los Gatos within half an hour, 1 am sorry
I cannot dispense my hospitality in person,
but you will dine and sleep here to-night.
Good-by. As you go out will you please
send up Mr. Jackson to me." He nodded
briefly, seemed to plunge instantly into his
pa})ers again, and John Milton was glad to
withdraw.
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 287
The sliock he had felt at Mrs. Ash wood's
frig-id disposition of his wishes and his man-
uscript had benumbed him to any enjoy-
ment or appreciation of the change in his
fortune. He wandered out of the house and
descended to the beach in a dazed, bewild-
ered way, seeing only the words of her let-
ter to Fletcher before him, and striving to
grasp some other meaning from them than
their coldly practical purport. Perhaps this
was her cruel revenge for his telling her not
to write to him. Could she not have di-
vined it was only his fear of what she might
say ! And now it was all over ! She had
washed her hands of him with the sending
of that manuscript and letter, and he would
pass out of her memory as a foolish, con-
ceited iiigrate, perhaps a figure as wearily
irritating and stupid to her as the cousin
she had known. He mechanically lifted his
eyes to the distant hotel ; the glov/ was still
in the western sky, but the blue lamp vras
already shining in the wdudow. Ilis cheek
fluslied quickly, and he turned away as if
she could have seen iii.s face. Yes she de-
spised him, and that was his answer !
When he return.'*], Mr. Fletcher had
gone. He dragged through a dinner with
288 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
Mr. Jackson, Fletcher's secretary, and tried
to realize his good fortune in listening to
the subordinate's congratulations. " But I
thought," said elackson, " you had slipped
up on your luck to-day, when the old man
sent for you. lie was quite white, and
ready to rip out about something that had
just come in. I suppose it was one of those
anonymous things against your father, the
old man 's dead set against 'em now." But
John Milton heard him vaguely, and pres-
ently excused himself for a row on the moon-
lit bay.
The active exertion, with intervals of pla-
cid drifting along the land-locked shore,
somewhat soothed him. The heaving Pacific
beyond was partly hidden in a low creeping
fog, but the curving bay was softly radiant.
The rocks whereon she sat that morning, the
hotel where she was now quietly reading,
were outlined in black and silver. In this
dangerous contiguity it seemed to him that
her presence returned, not the woman who
had met him so coldly ; who had penned
those lines ; the woman from whom he was
iw)w parting forever, but the blameless ideal
he had worshiped from the first, and which
he now felt could never pass out of his
A r/IiSr F^AMILT OF T AS AJAR A. 289
life again ! He recalled their long talks,
their rarer rides and walks in the city ; her
quick appreciation and ready sympathy ;
her pretty curiosity and half-maternal con-
sideration of his foolish youthful past ; even
the playful way that she sometimes seemed
to make herself younger as if to better
understand him. Lingering at times in the
shadow of the headland, ho fancied he saw
the delicate nervous outlines of her face
near his own again ; the faint shading of her
brown lashes, the soft intelligence of her
gray eyes. Drifting idly in the placid moon-
light, pulling feverishly across the swell of
the channel, or lying on his oars in the
slmllows of the rocks, but always following
the curves of the bay, like a bird circling
around a lighthouse, it was far in the night
before lie at last dragged his boat upon the
sand. Then he turned to look once more at
her distant window. lie would be away in
tlie morning and he should never see it again !
It was very late, but the blue light seemed
to be still burning unalterably and inflexi-
bly.
Rut even as he gazed, a change came over
it. A shadow seemed to })ass before the
blind ; the blue shade was lifted ; for an
j_Brct Harte v. 22
290 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
instant he could see the colorless star-like
point of the light itself show clearl3^ It was
over .low ; she was jiutting out the lamp.
Suddenly he held his breath ! A roseate
glow gradually suffused the window like a
burning blush ; the curtain was drawn aside,
and the red lamp-shade gleamed out surely
and steadily into the darkness.
Transfigured and breathless in the moon-
light, John Milton gazed on it. It seemed
to him the dawn of Love I
CHAPTER XIII. 4
The winter rains had come. But so plen-
teously and })ciHistently, and with such fate-
ful pre])ai'ation of circumstance, that the
lono- looked for blessing presently became a
wonder, an anxiety, and at last a slowly
widening" terror. Before a month had jiassed
every mountain, stream, and watercourse,
surcharged with the melted snows of the
Sierras, had become a great tributary ; every
tributary a great river, until, pouring their
great vohune into the engorged channels of
the American and Sacramento rivers, they
overlea])ed their banks and Ix'came as o:if?
vast inland sea. Even to a country already
familiar with broad and sti'ikingcatastro})he,
the flood was a phenomen;d one. For days
the sullen overflow lay in tlie valley of the
Sacramento, enormous, silent, enrrentless
except where tlui surplus watei'S rolled
throngh Carcpiiiu'z Sti'aits, San Francisco
Bay. and the Ciolden (iate, and reajijieared
as the vanished Sacramento Kiver, in an
292 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
outflowing stream of fresh and turbid water
fifty miles at sea.
Across the vast inland expanse, brooded
over by a leaden sky, leaden rain fell, dim-
pling like shot the sluggish pools of the flood ;
a cloudy chaos of fallen trees, drifting barns
and outhouses, wagons and agricultural
implements moved over the surface of the
waters, or circled slowly around the outskirts
of forests that stood ankle deep in ooze
and the current, which in serried phalanx
they resisted still. As night fell these
forms became still more vague and chaotic,
an; I were interspersed with the scattered lan-
terns and flaming torches of relief-boats, or
occasionally the high terraced gleaming win-
dows of the great steamboats, feeling their
way along the lost cliannel. At times the
opening of a furnace-door shot broad bars of
light across the sluggish stream and into the
branches of dripping and drift-encumbered
trees ; at times the looming smoke-stacks
sent out a pent-up breath of sparks that
illuminated the inky chaos for a moment,
and then fell as black and dripping rain.
Or perhaps a hoarse shout from some faintly
outlined bulk on either side brought a quick
response from the relief-boats, and the de-
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 293
taching of a canoe with a blazing pine-knot
in its bow into the outer darkness.
It was kite in the afternoon when La.-
rence Grant, from the deck of one of the
kirii-er tu<xs, siirhted what had been once tlie
estuary of Sidon Creek. The leader of a
party of scientific observation and relief, he
had kept a tireless watch of eighteen hours,
keenly noticing the work of devastation, the
changes in the channel, the prospects of
abatement, and the danger that still threat-
ened. He had passed down the length of
the submerged Sacramento valley, through
the Straits of Carquinez, and was now steam-
ing along the shores of the upper reaches of
San Francisco Bay. Everywhere the same
scene of desolation, vast stretches of tide
land, once broken up by cultivation and
dotted with dwellings, now clearly erased on
that watery chart ; long lines of symmetrical
perspective, breaking the monotonous level,
showing orcliards buried in the flood : Indian
mounds and natural eminences covered with
cattle or hastily ereete>d camps ; half sub-
merged houses, whose solitary chimneys, how-
ever, still gave signs of an undaunted life
within ; isolated groups of trees, with their
lower branches heavy with the unwholesome
294 -I FIRUT FAMILY OF TASAJAMA.
fruit of tlie flood, in wisps of hay and straw,
rakes and pitchforks, or pathetically shelter-
ing- some shivering and forgotten household
pet. But everywhere the same dull, expres-
sionless, yslacid tranquillity of destruction,
a horrible leveling of all things in one bland
smiling equality of surface, beneath which
agony, despair, and ruin were deeply buried
and forgotten ; a catastrophe without con-
vulsion, a devastation voiceless, passion-
less, and supine.
The boat had slowed up before what
seemed to be a collection of disarranged
houses with the current flov/ing between lines
tliat indicated the existence of thoroughfares
and streets. Many of the lighter wooden
buildings were huddled together on tlie street
corners with their galiles to the flow ; some
appeared as if they had fallen on their knees,
and others lay complacently on their sides,
'ike the houses of a cliild's toy village. An
elevator still lifted itself above the other
warehouses ; from the centre of an enormous
squ;ire pond, once the pi'/za., still arose a
" Lii)(;rty pole, " or flagstaff, which now
su|*|'orted a swinging lantern, and in tlie
disunncc appeared tlic glittering dome of
some public building. Grant recognized the
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 295
scene at once. It was all that was left of
the invincible youth of Tasajara !
As this was an o1)jcctive point of i[\r
scheme of survey an-l relief for the district,
the boat was made fast to the second story
of one of the warehonses. It was now used
as a general store and depot, and bore a
singular resemblance in its interior to Ilar-
court's grocery at Sidon. This suggestion
was the more fatefully indicated by the fact
that half a dozen men were seated around a
stove in the centre, more or less given up to
a kind of philosophical and lazy enjoyment
of their enforced idleness. And when to
this was addiid the more sur])rising coinci-
dence that the party consisting of Billings,
l\'ters, and Wingate, former residents of
Sidon and first citizens of Tasajara, the
resemblance was complete.
They were ruined, but they accepted
their common fate with a certain Indian
stoicism and Western sense of liumor that
for the time lifted them above the vulgar
complacency of their former fortunes. There
was a (lce]vscated, if coarse and irreverent
resignation in their ])hil()sophy. At the
beginning of the calamity it had been roughly
formulated by Billings in the statement that
296 A FIRST FAyflLY OF T AS AJAR A.
" it was n't anybody's fault ; there was nobody
to kill, and what could n't be reached by a
Vigilance Coainiittee there was no use reso-
lootin' over." When the Reverend Doctor
Pilsbury had suggested an appeal to a Higher
Power, Peters had replied, good humoredly,
that " a Creator who could fool around with
them in that style was above being interfered
with by prayer." At first the calamity had
been a thing to fight against ; then it became
a practical joke, the sting of which was lost
in the victims' power of endurance and as-
sumed ignorance of its purport. There was
something almost pathetic in their attempts
to understand its peculiar humor.
" How about that Europ-e-an trip o' yours,
Peters ? " said Billings, meditatively, from
the depths of his chair. " Looks as if those
Crowned Pleads over there would have to
wait till the water goes down considerable
afore you kin trot out your wife and darters
before 'em ! "
" Yes," said Peters, " it rather pints that
way ; and ez far ez I kin see. Mame Billings
ain't goin' to no Saratoga, neither, this
year."
" Reckon the boys won't hang about old
Harcourt's Free Library to see the girls
A FIRST FAMILY OF T AS AJAR A. 297
home from lectures and singing-class much
this year," said Wingate. " Wonder if Ilar-
court ever thought o' this the day he opened
it, and made that rattlin' speech o' his about
the new property ? Clark says everything
built on that mado ground has got to go
after the water falls. Rough on Ilarcourt
after all his other losses, eh ? He oughter
have closed up with that scientific chap,
Grant, and married him to Clementina while
the big boom was on "
" Hush ! " said Peters, indicating Grant,
who had just entered quietly.
" Don't mind me, gentlemen," said Grant,
stepping towards the group with a grave but
perfectly collected face ; " on the contrary,
I am very anxious to hear all the news of
Ilarcourt's family. I left for Xew York be-
fore the rainy season, and have only just got
back."
His speech and manner appeared to be so
much in keeping with the prevailing grim
philosophy that Billings, after a glance at
the others, went on. " Ef you left afore the
first rains," said he, " you must have left only
the steamer ahead of Fh^teher, when he run
off with Clementina 1 lareourt. and you might
have come across them on their wedding trip
in Xew York."
298 A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA.
Not a muscle of Grant's face changed
under their eager and cruel scrutiny. " Ko,
I did n't," he returned quietly. " But why
did slie run away ? Did the father object to
Fletcher? If I remember rightly he was
rich and a good match."
" Yes, but I reckon the old man had n't
quite got over the ' Clarion ' abuse, for all
its eating humble - pie and taking back its
yarns of him. And may be he might have
thouii'ht the enii'aGfement rather sudden.
They say that she 'd only met Fletcher the
day afore the engagement."
" That be d d," said Peters, Icnocking
the ashes out of his pipe, and startling the
lazy resignation of his neighbors by taking
his feet from the stove and sitting upright.
" I tell ye, gentlemen, I 'm sick o' this sort
o' hog-wash that 's been ladled round to us.
That gal Clementina Harcourt and that feller
Fletcher had met not only once, but many
times afore yes I they were old friends
if it comes to that, a matter of six years
ago."
Grant's eyes were fixed eagerly on the
speakei', altiiough the others scarcely turned
their liemis.
*' You know, gentlemen," said Peters, " I
.1 FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 299
never took stoek in this yer story of llie
drowniu' of 'Lii^'o Curtis. ^Vlly V Well, if
you wanter know in my opinion there
never was any 'Lige Curtis ! "
rollings lifted his head with difficulty;
Wiiij^ato turned his faee to the speaker.
" There never was a scrap o' paper ever
found in his cabin with the name o' "Lig'c
Curtis on it ; there never was any inquiry
made for 'Lige Curtis ; there never was any
sorrowin' friends coniin' after 'Lige Ciirtis.
For why ? There , never was any 'Lige
Curtis. The man who passed himself off in
Sidon under that name was that man
Flett'her. That "s how he knew all about
llarcourt's title ; that 's how he got his best
holt on Ilarcourt. And he did it all to get
Clementina llareourt, whom the old man
had refused to him in Sidon."
A grunt of incredulity passed around the
circle. Such is the fate of historical inno.
vation ! Only Gi'ant listened attentively.
"Ye ought to tell that yarn to John jVIil-
tou," said A\'iugate ironically ; "it's about
in the style o" them stories he slings in
the ' Clarion." "'
" lie 's made a good thing outer that job.
Wonder what he gets for them ? " said
Peters.
300 A FIRST FA.\fILY OF TASAJARA.
It was Billini^s's time to rise, and, under
the influence of some strong cynical emotion,
to even rise to liis feet. " Gets for 'era !
gets for 'em ! 1 '11 tell you what he gets
for 'em I It beats this story o' Peters's,
it beats the flood. It beats me ! Ye
know that boy, gentlemen ; ye know how he
uster lie round his father's store, reading
flapdoodle stories and sich ! Ye remember
how I uster try to give him good examples
and knock some sense into him ? Ye re-
member how, after his father's good luck, he
spiled all his own chances, and ran off with
his father's waiter gal all on account o'
them flapdoodle books he read ? Ye remem-
ber how he sashayed round newspaper offices
in 'Frisco until he could write a flapdoodle
story himself? Ye wanter know what he
gets for 'em. I'll tell you. lie got an in-
terduction to one of them higli-toned, high-
fahitin', ' don't-touch-me ' rich widdcrs from
riiiladelfy, that 's what he gets for 'em !
He got her dead set on him and his stories,
that 's what he gets for 'em I lie got lier
to put liim lip with Fletcher in the 'Clar-
ion,' that 'h wliat he gets for 'em. And
darn my skin I ef wliat they say is true,
while we liard-working men are sittin' here
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. 301
like drowned rats that air John jVIilton,
oz never did a stitcli o' live work like me 'n'
yerc ; ez never did anythin' but spin yarns
about us ez did vork, is now ' gittin' for
'em ' what ? Guess ! Why, he 's gittin'
the rich viddcr herself and half a million
dollars vith her ! Gentlemen I lib'ty is a
good tiling but thar 's some things ye gets
too much lib'ty of in this country and
that 's this yer Lib'ty of the Pjress ! "
STORIES OF AND FOR THE YOUNG
THE QUEEI^ OF THE PIRATE ISLE
T FiEST knew her as the Qiiccn of the
Pirate Isle. To the best of my recollection
she had no reasonable right to that title.
She was only nine years old, inclined to
plumpness and good hnmor, deprecated
violence, and had never been to sea. ISTeed
it be added that she did not live in an
island and that her name was Polly?
Perhaps T ought to explain that she had
already known other experiences of a
purely imaginative character. Part of her
existence had been passed as a Beggar
Child, solely indicated by a shawl tightly
folded round her shoulders, and chills ; as
a Schoolmistress, unnecessarily severe ; as
a Preacher, singularly personal in his re-
marks, atid once, after reading one of
Cooper's novels, as an Indian Maiden.
This was, 1 believe, the only instance when
she had burrowed from another's fiction.
305
30fi THE QUE EX OF THE riRATE IHLE.
]\r()st of the cliaractcrs tliat she assiiineJ
for diiYs and soiiictimes weeks at a time
Averc purely original in conception ; some
so much so as to be vague to the general
understanding. I remember that her ])er-
sonation of a certain ]\Irs. Smith, whose
individuality was su})])osed to be suf-
ficiently represented by a sunbonnet vom
wrong side before and a weekly addition
to her family, was never perfectly ap-
preciated by her own circle although she
lived the character for a month. Another
creation known as "The Proud Lady" a
being whose excessive and unreasonable
haughtiness was so pronounced as to give
her features the expression of extreme
nausea caused her mother so much alarm
that it had to be abandoned. This was
easily effected. The Proud Lady was un-
derstood to have died. Indeed, most of
Polly's impersonations were got rid of in
tills way, although it by no means pre-
A'cuted their subsequent reappearance. "I
tlionght Mrs. Smith was dead," remon-
strated her mother at the posthumous
a])pearaiic(; of that lady with a new infant.
"She was buried alive and kem to!" said
Polly with a melancholy air. Fortunately,
THE QVEEX OF THE PIRATE ISLE. 807
tli(^ roprcseiitatioii of a ro.snsoitatod ])or<oii
r('(|iiire(l such extraordinary acliiic;, and
Avas, rlironii'h some uncertainty of conccj)-
tion, so closcdy allied in facial expression
to the Proud Lady, that .Mrs. Smith was
resuscitated oidy for a day.
The oriiiin of the title of the Queen of
the Pirate Isle may be briefly stated as
follows :
An hour after luncheon, one day, Polly,
Hickory Hunt, her cousin, and Wan Lee,
a Chinese! ])aixe, were ci'ossinix the nursery
floor in a Chinese juidv. The sea was calm
and the sky cloudless. Any chanirc in th(^
weather was as unexpected as it is in books.
Suddenly a West Indian Hurricane,
purely local in character and unfelt any-
whei-e else, struck ]\raster Hickory and
thi'ew him overboard, whence, wildly
swinnninii; f<.)r his life and carrying- Polly
on Ins back, hv eventually reached a Desert
Island in the <dosc>t. Here the rescued
])arty ]>ut u]) a tent made of a table-clotli
])rovi(lentially siialched from the raging
billows, and, from two o'cdock until four,
passed six weeks on the island, sn})])orted
only by a ])iece of candle, a box of matches,
and two jx'ppcmiint lozenges. It was at
308 THE QUEE'S' OF TEE PIRATE ISLE.
this time that it became necessary to ac-
count for Polly's existence among them,
and this was only effected by an alarming
sacrifice of their morality ; Hickory and
Wan Lee instantly became Pirates, and at
once elected Polly as their Queen. The
royal duties, which seemed to be purely
maternal, consisted in putting the Pirates
to bed after a day of rapine and bloodshed,
and in feeding them with licorice water
through a quill in a small bottle. Limited
as her functions were, Polly performed
them with inimitable gravity and unques-
tioned sincerity. Even when her com-
panions sometimes hesitated from actual
hunger or fatigue and forgot their guilty
part, she never faltered. It was her real
existence ; her other life of being washed,
dressed, and put to bed at certain hours by
her mother was the illusion.
Doubt and skepticism came at last,
and came from Wan Lee! Wan Lee of
all creatures ! Wan Lee, whose silent,
stolid, mechanical performance of a pi-
rate's duties^ a perfect imitation like all
his household work had been their one
delight and fascination !
It was just after the exciting capture of
THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE IfiLE. 309
a iiicreliaTitinaii, witli the indiseriminato
slaughter of all on board, a spectacle on
which the roniid blue eyes of the plump
Polly had gazed with royal and maternal
tolerance, and they were bnrying the
booty, two tablespoons and a thimble, in
the corner of the closet, when Wan Lee
stolidly rose.
''jMclican boy pleenty foolee ! Melican
boy no Pilat!" said the little Chinaman,
substituting "I's" for "r's" after his usual
fashion.
'^Wotcher say ?" said Hickory, redden-
ing with sudden confusion.
"]\relican boy's papa heap lickee him
s'pose him leal Pilat," continued Wan Lee
doggedly. "]\relican boy Pilat inside
housee. Chinee boy Pilat outside housee.
First chop Pilar."
Staggered by this humiliating state-
ment, Hickory recovered himself in char-
acter. "Ah! Ho!" he shrieked, dancing
wildly on one leg, "^lutiny and Splordina-
shun ! 'Way with him to the yard-arm."
"Yald-alm liea]) foolee ! Alee same
clothes-horse for waslun:' waslice."
It was here nwessary for the Pirate
Queen to assert her authority, which, as T
310 THE QUEEX OF THE PIRATE ISLE.
have before stated, was somewhat con-
fiisin<]^]_v matenial.
''Go to Led instantly without your sup-
per," she said seriously. "Keally, I never
saw such bad pirates. Say your prayers,
and see that you're up early to church to-
morrow."
It should be explained that in deference
to Polly's proficiency as a preacher, and
probably as a relief to their uneasy con-
sciences, Divine Service had always been
held on the Island. But Wan Lee con-
tinued :
"^Le no shabbee Pilat inside liousee ; me
shabbee Pilat outside housee. S'pose you
lun away longside Chinee boy Chinee
boy make you Pilat."
Hickory softly scratched his leg, while
a broad, bashful sndle almost closed liis
small eyes. ''Wot if" he asked.
''Mebbe you too flightened to lun away.
Melican boy's papa heap lickee."
This last infamous suggestion fired the
corsair's blood. "Dy'ar think we daro-
sen't if" said Hickory des])erately, but with
an uneasy glance at Polly. ''I'll show yer
to-morrow."
The entrance of Polly's mother at this
THE QIEFA OF THE PIRATE ISLE. 311
inoiiiciit j)nt an end to Polly's authority
and disporscd tho pirate band, but loft
\Van Log's pro])Osal and Hickory's rash
a(*('0]^tanco ringinc: in the ears of the Pirate
Queen. Tliat evening she was nnnsnally
sil(Mit. Slie wonkl have taken Bridget,
her nurse, into her confidences, but this
would have involved a long ex])lanation
of her own feelings, from which, like all
imaginative children, she shrank. She,
however, made preparation for the pro-
posed flight by settling in lier mind which
of lier two dolls she would take. A wooden
creature with easy-going knees and mov-
able hair seemed to he. more fit for hard
service and any indiscriminate scalping
tliat luight turn up hereafter. At snpper,
slio timidly asked a question of Pridget.
''Did ye ever hear the loikes nv that,
ma'am ^" said the Irish handmaid with
affectionate ])ride. '^Shure the darlint's
head is filled noight and day with ancient
history. She's after asking me now if
(}ueens ever run away!'' To Polly's re-
morseful confusion here her good father,
ecpudly proud of licr precocious interest
and his own knowleduw at once interfcn'od
with an unintelliu'ible account of the abdi-
312 THE QUEEN OP THE PIRATE I8LB.
cation of various queens in history until
Polly's head ached again. Well meant as
it was, it only settled in the child's mind
that she must keep the awful secret to
herself and that no one could understand
her.
The eventful day dawmed without any
unusual sign of importance. It was one
of the cloudless summer days of the Cali-
fornian foothills, bright, dry, and, as the
morning advanced, hot in the white sun-
shine. The actual, prosaic house in which
the Pirates apparently lived was a mile
from a mining settlement on a beautiful
ridge of pine woods sloping gently towards
a valley on the one side, and on the other
falling abruptly into a dark deep olive
gulf of pine-trees, rocks, and patches of
red soil. Beautiful as the slope was, look-
ing over to the distant snow peaks which
seemed to be in another world than theirs,
the children found a greater attraction in
the fascinating depths of a mysterious
gulf, or canon, as it was called, whose very
name filled their ears wdth a weird music.
To creep to the edge of the cliff, to sit
upon the brown branches of some fallen
pine, and, putting aside the dried tassels,
THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE. 818
to look do^\'n upon the backs of wheeling
hawks that seemed to hang in mid-air was
a never-failing delight. Here Polly would
try to trace the winding red ribbon of road
that was continnally losing itself among
tlic dense pines of the opposite monntains ;
here she would listen to the far-off strokes
of a woodman's axe, or the rattle of some
heavy wagon, miles away, crossing the
pebbles of a dried-np watercourse. Here,
too, the prevailing colors of the mountains,
red and white and green, most showed
themselves. There were no fro\\ming rocks
to depress the children's fancy, but every-
where along the ridge pure white quartz
bared itself through the red earth like
smiling teeth ; the very pebbles they played
with were streaked with shining mica like
bits of looking-glass. The distance was
always green and summer-like, but the
color they most loved, and which was most
familiar to them, was the dark red of the
ground beneath their feet evervwhere. It
showed itself in the roadside bushes ; its
rod dust ]x?rvaded the leaves of the over-
hanging laurel ; it colored their shoes and
pinafores ; I am afraid it was often scon
in Indian-like patches on their faces and
814 TEE QUEEK OF THE PIRATE ISLE.
hands. That it may have often given a
sanguinary tone to their fancies I have
every reason to believe.
It was on this ridge that the three chil-
dren gathered at ten o'clock that morning.
An earlier flight had been impossible on
accoimt of Wan Lee being obliged to per-
form his regular duty of blacking the shoes
of Polly and Hickory before breakfast,
a menial act which in the pure re]mblic
of childliood was never thought incon-
sistent with the loftiest piratical ambition.
On the ridge they met one ''Patsey/' the
son of a neighbor, sun-burned, broad-
brimmed hatted, red-handed, like them-
selves. As there were afterwards some
doubts expressed whether he joined the
Pirates of his own free will, or was cap-
tured by them, I endeavor to give the
colloquy exactly as it occurred :
Patsev: ^'ITallo, fellers."
The Pirates: ''Ilellor'
Patsey : "Goin' to hunt bars ? Dad seed
a lot o' tracks at sun-up."
The Pirates (hesitating) : "Xo o "
Patsey: "I am; know where I kin get a
six-shooter V
The Pirates (almost ready to abandon
THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE. Slf)
piracy for Lear-huntiiipi:, but prcserviiiG;
rlicir diiiuity) : "Can't! We've runn'd
away for real pirates."
Patsey : "Xot for good !"
Tlio (^iieen (interposing with sad dig-
nity and real tears in her ronnd bine
eyes): "Yes!'' (slowly and shaking her
head). '"Can't go back again. Xever!
Xover! Never! The the eye is cast!"
Patsey (bnrsting with excitement) :
"Xo-o! Slio'o! Wanter know."
The Pirates (a little frightened them-
selves, hilt trenmlous with gratified van-
ity) : "The Perleese is on onr track 1"
Patsey: "Lenune go with yer!"
Hickory: "Wot'll yer giv T
Patsey: "Pistol and er bananer."
Hickory (with jndicious prudence):
"Let's see 'eui."
Patsey was off like a shot; his bare
little re(l feet trembling under him. In a
few minutes he retnrned with an old-
fasliioned revolver known as one of "Al-
len's peppei'-boxes" and a large banana.
He was at once enrcdled, and the banana
eaten.
As yet iliey had resolved on no definite
nefarious plan. Hickory, looking down at
316 TEE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE.
Patsey's bare feet, instantly took off his
own slioes. This bold act sent a thrill
tlirongh his companions. Wan Lee took
off his cloth leggings, Polly removed her
slioes and stockings, bnt, with royal fore-
sight, tied them np in her handkerchief.
Tlie last link between them and civiliza-
tion was broken.
"Let's go to the Slumgiillion."
"Shimgullion" was the name given by
the miners to a certain soft, half-liquid
mnd, formed of the water and finely
powdered earth that was carried off by
the sluice-boxes during gold-washing, and
eventually collected in a broad pool or la-
goon before the outlet. There was a pool .
of tliis kind a quarter of a mile away,
where there were "diggings" worked by
Patsey's father, and thither they pro-
ceeded along the ridge in single file.
When it was reached they solemnly began
to wade in its viscid paint-like shallows.
Possibly its unctuousness was pleasant to
tlie touch ; possibly there was a fascination
in the fact that their parents had forbidden
them to go near it, but probably the princi-
pal object of this performance was to pro-
duce a thick coating of mud on the feet and
THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE. 317
ankles, which, when dried in the sun, was
supposed to harden the skin and render
their shoes superfluous. It was also felt to
be the first real step towards independence ;
they looked down at their ensanguined
extremities and recognized the impossi-
bility of their ever again crossing (un-
waslied) the family threshold.
Then they again hesitated. There was
a manifest need of some well-defined
piratical purpose. The last act was reck-
less and irretrievable, but it w^as vague.
They gazed at each other. There was a
stolid look of resigned and superior toler-
ance in Wan Lee's eyes.
Polly's glance wandered down the side
of the slope to the distant little tunnels or
openings made by the miners who were at
work in the bowels of the mountain. "I'd
like to go into one of them funny holes,"
she said to herself, half aloud.
Wan Lee suddenly began to blink his
eyes with unwonted excitement. "Catcheo
tunnel heap gold," he said quickly.
"'When nianee come outside to catchee
dinner Pilats go inside catchee tunnel !
Sliabbee ! Pilats catchee gold allee samee
^lelican man !"
318 THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE.
"And take pcrsoshiun," said Iliekory.
"And hoist the Pirate fla,c," said Patsey.
"And bnild a fire, and cook, and have a
family," said Polly.
The idea was fascinating to the point of
being irresistible. The eyes of the four
children became rounder and rounder.
They seized each other's hands and swung
them backwards and forwards, occasionally
lifting their legs in a solemn rhythmic
movement known only to childhood.
"It's orful far off!" said Patsey with a
sudden look of dark importance. "Pap
says it's free miles on the road. Take all
day ter get there."
The bright faces were overcast.
"Less go down er slide!" said Hickory
boldly.
Tlioy approached the edge of the cliff.
The "slide" was simply a sharp incline
zigzagiring down the side of the mountain
used for sliding goods and provisions from
the summit to the tunnel-men at the dif-
ferent openings below. The continual
trafHc had gradually worn a shallow gully
half iillfd with earth and gravel into the
face of the mountain which checked the
momentum of the goods in their downward
THE QUEEX OF TEE PIRATE ISLE. 319
])as.-!fi,;c, but afforded no foothold for a
]x>do^trian. Xo one had ever been known
to descend a slide. That feat was evi-
dently reserved for the Pirate band. They
approached the edge of the slide, hand in
hand, hesitated, and the next moment
disappeared.
Five minntes later the tnnnel-mcn of
the Ivxcelsior mine, a mile below, taking
their Innclieon on the rude platform of
debris before their tunnel, were suddenly
driven to shelter in the tunnel from an
a]iparent rain of stones, and rocks, and
]iel3bles, from the cliffs above. Looking
up, they were startled at seeing four round
objects revolving and bounding in the dust
of the slide, which eventually resolved
themselves into three boys and a girl. For
a moment the good men held their breath
in helpless terror. Twice one of the chil-
dren had struck the outer edge of the bank,
and dis])laced stones that shot a thousand
feet (lovu iuto the dizzy de])ths of th(> val-
ley ; and now one of them, the girl, had
actually rolled out of the slide and was
hanging over the chasm supported oidy by
a clump of chamisal to which she clung!
^'llang on by your eyelids, sis ! but don't
820 THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE.
stir, for Heaven's sake!" shouted one of
the men, as two others started on a hope-
less ascent of the cliff above them.
But a light childish laugh from the
clinging little figure seemed to mock them !
Then two small heads appeared at the edge
of the slide ; then a diminutive figure,
whose feet were apparently held by some
invisible companion, was shoved over the
brink and stretched its tiny arms towards
the girl. But in vain, the distance was too
great. Another laugh of intense youthful
enjoyment followed the failure, and a new
insecurity was added to the situation by
the unsteady hands and shoulders of the
relieving party, who were apparently shak-
ing with laughter. Then the extended
figure was seen to detach what looked like
a small black rope from its shoulders and
throw it to the girl. There was another
little giggle. The faces of the men below
paled in terror. Then Polly, for it was
she, ^hanging to the long pigtail of Wan
Lee, was dravm with fits of laughter back
in safety to the slide. Their childish
treble of appreciation was answered by a
ringing cheer from below.
"Darned ef I ever want to cut off a
THE QUEEN OF THE PI RATE IHLE. 321
Cliinaman's pigtail again, boys," said one
of the tunnel-men as lie went back to
dinner.
Meantime the eliildren had reached the
goal and stood before the opening of one of
the tunnels. Then these fonr heroes who
had looked with cheerful levity on the
deadly jieril of their descent became sud-
denly friglitened at the mysterious dark-
ness of the cavern and turned pale at its
thresliold.
"jMeblx^e a wicked Joss backside holee,
he catchee Pilats," said Wan Lee gravely.
Hickory began to whimper, Patsey drew
back, Polly alone stood her ground, albeit
with a trembling lip.
"Let's say our prayers and frighten it
away," she said stoutly.
"Xo ! no !" said Wan Lee, with a sud-
d(Mi alarm. "Xo frighten S])illits! You
waitee ! Chinee boy he talkee Spillit not
to f I'igliten you." *
Tucking his liaiids under his blue blouse,
Wan Lee suddenly produced from some
mysterious recess of his clothing a quantity
of red paper slips which he scattered at
1 The Chinese pray devoutly to the Evil Spirits not to
injure them.
K Bret Harte v. 22
322 THE QUEEy OF THE PIRATE ISLE.
tlic entrance of tlic cavern. Then drawinii;
from the ^anie inexhaustible receptacle
certain s(|uil).~ or iireworks, he let them oli"
and threw them into the opening. There
they Avent oH' Avith a slight lizz and
'^})hitter, a momentary glittering of small
points in the darkness, and a strong smell
of gnn|X)wder. Polly gazed at the s})ec-
tacle with nndiso-nis^ud awe and fascination.
Hickory and Patsey Lreatlied hard with
satisfaction: it Avas beyond their Avildest
dream- of mystery and rornance. Even
Wan Lee a})peared transfigtired into a sti-
])erior b:'!ng l)y the potency of his own
spells, ijiit aa ttnacconntable disturbance
of some kiiid in the. dim interior of tlie
timnel (]i:ickly drew the blo(xl fr(jm their
1)hiiichc(i cliccks again. It Avas a s(va)id
like conghing, folloAved by sometliing like
an oath.
''lie's made the Evil S])irit orfnl sick,"
said Iliclvory in a lond Avhis])er.
A slight hmgh, that to the children
seemed (lcm<iiii:u'al, foKowcd.
'"See!"" said AVan Lee. "Evil Spillet lie
lil-.-('c ('liiiiee; try talkee him.''
'!1ic i^rale- h'l'kcd at Wan Lee. not
withont a ceHaiii ciinv of this manifest
THE ()UEEX OF THE PIRATE ISLE. 328
l'av<jriti.-iii. A fearful desire to e(jiniiiiio
i!i<Mi' awful cxpei'iiiients, iiisleacl uf jUir^u-
hiiS tlieir pii'atieal avocations, was takinii'
])(i~se,--sioii of them; but i'olly. with oik; of
ihc >\v\\'\ iraiisiiious of ehihlhood, iiuiue-
(liately l)eii'aii to extciiiporize a house for
llie pai'lv at the uioutli of tlie tuuue], and,
A'v'iili parental foresi<j;ht, li'athei'ed the fraii-
iiieiil,- of the s(piibs to build a fii-e for
su] >])(]'. 'Duit fi'uu'al meal, eonsistiuii' of
!ia!f a ^'iiia'er hiseiiit divided into five small
])irli<in-. ea(di served r)ii a ehij) of wood,
and ha\'ina a (kdieiously mysterious llavor
of iiun]:i iwder and smoke, vas soon o\'er.
It vas neecs^ary after this tliat the Pirates
sh.onld at (inee >eek re])ose after a day of
ad\'e!inii'e. wliii'h they did fnr the spaei' of
fdi'ty seconds in sinp:ularly im])(issil)le at-
titude- and far Ux) au'a'ressivc snorimr.
rn(h'e(h Master Iliekory's almost upright
])n-i', wiih tiiz'htly fVdded arms and darkly
iVowniiiu' hriiws. was f<dt to Ije dranuitie,
lair impn-sihle for a loii'jcer ])eriod. The
hrii'f iiilei-\-;d enahle<l Pnlly to eollciet her-
-elf and i( ]n(,k around hei- in her usual
niothei'lv fasliiiMi. Suddenly >he started
and ullci'ed a ivy. In ihe exeitenient of
tlie de.-eent she had cpiite overlooked her
324 THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE.
doll, and was now regarding it with
round-cycd horror.
''Lady Alary's liair's gone !" she cried,
convnlsively grasping the Pirate Hickory's
legs.
Hickory at once recognized tli(> hattered
doll under tlie aristocratic title which
Polly had long ago bestowed npon it. He
stared at the bald and battered head.
"Ha! ha!" he said hoarsely; 'Vkelped
by Injins !"
For an instant the delicions snggestion
soothed the imaginative Polly. But it was
qnickly dispelled by Wan Lee.
"Lady ]\Ialey's pigtail hangee to]) side
liillee. Catchee on big qnartz stone allee
same Polly; me go fetchee."
"Xo !'' qnickly shrieked the otliers. The
]n'os])ect of being left in the jn'oximity of
Wan Lee's evil s])irit, witlumt AVan Lee's
exorcising power, was anything but reas-
suring. "Xo, don't go!'' Even Polly
rdro))ping a maternal tear on the bald head
of Lady Alary) ])r()tested again.st this
breaking n]) of the little circle. "(b> to
bed !" she said an!lioritati\'ely, "and slee})
till moi'ning."
Thns adnidnished, the Pirates acain re-
THE QZ'EEX OF THE PfRATE If^f.E. 325
tirod. This time ofToctivolj; for, worn by
actual fatiii'iio or soothed hv the delicious
( liHss of the cave, tliev c;radually, one
by one, snecinubed to real shinil)er. Polly,
withheld from joining them l)y official and
mat(n'nal rc^spoii'^ibility, sat and ])linked at
them aifeetionately.
Gradually she, too, felt herself yielding
to the fascination and mystery of the ])laee
and the solitude that encompassed her.
Tjeyond the pleasant shadows where she
sat, she saw the great world of mountain
and valley through a dreamy haze that
seemed to rise from the depths below and
occasionally hang l>efore the cavern like a
veil. Long waves of s])icy heat rolling up
the mountain from the valley l)rought her
the smell of iMuo-trees and bay, and made
the laudsca|)e swim before her eyes. She
could hear the far-off cry of teamsters on
some unseen road ; she could see the far-olT
cloud of dust following the mountain stage-
coach, whose rattling wheels she could not
hear. She felt very lonely, but was not
quite afraid; she felt very uudancholy, but
was not entirely sad; and she could havt^
easily awakened her sleeping companions
if she wished.
82B THE OTEEX f)E THE PIRATE ISLE.
Xo ; she Ava a kmo wido-w with iiiiio
cliildron, six of whom \vcr(> already in the
]oiio clinvchyard r)ii tlic hill, and the others
lying ill with measles and scarlet fever be-
side her. She had jnst walked many
weary miles that day, and had often beu'ii'ed
from door to door for a slice of bread for
the starving little ones. It was of no ns(;
now they Avonld die I They wonld never
see their dear mother again. This was a
favorite imagiiiative situation of Polly'-;,
but only indulged wIkmi her com])anions
were asleep, partly becanse she conld not
trnst confederates with her more serious
faiudes, and partly IxK'anse they were at
such times ])assivc in her hands. She
glanced timidly aronnd. Satisfied that no
one conld ol)serve her, she softly visite(l
the bedside of each of her companions, and
administered from a pnrely fictitious bottle
spoonfuls of invisible medicine. Physical
correction in the form of slight ta])s, which
they ahvays required, and in which Polly
was strong, was only withheld now from a
<<']]>(' of their weak condition. Put in
\:iin ; they succumbc'd to the fell disease,
lliey always died at this juncture, and
i'olly was left al(,>ne. She thought of the
TJIE QT'EEX OF THE PIRATE ISLE. 327
lilMo fhni'cli ^v]lf'lo slio liad onro scm-ti a
finicval, and roineinbcrcd the nice smell of
the ilowors ; she dwelt wilh ]n(daiicli(ly
satisfaction of the nine little tombstones
in the graveyard, each with an inscri])tion,
and looked forward with p:entle antici])a-
tion to the lonp; summer days when, with
Lady ]\rary in her lap, she won Id sit on
those a,'raves clad in the dec]icst nunirnin,!;'.
The fact that the nnha]ipy victims at times
nKHcd as it were nneasily in their "Taves,
or snored, did not affect Pcdly's imaa'ina-
tive contemplation, nor withhold the tears
that a'athered in her ronnd eyes.
Presently, the ]id< of the round eyes
beii'an to droop, the landscape Ix^yond beijan
1<i I)e more confused, and sometimes to dis-
a])|)ear entirely and rea]^])ear again with
startling distinctness. Then a sound of
I'ippling water from the little stream that
ildwed from the month of the tuniud
soothed her and seemed to carry hei' away
wilh it, and then e\'erything -was dark.
T]i(> next thing that she i'emeiiib('red
was that nlie wa^ a|parently lK>ing carried
along on some gliding objei't to the sound
of rip])liiig water. She was not alone, foi*
her three companions were lying beside
328 THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE.
her, rather tightly packed and squeezed in
the same mvstcrioiis vehicle. Even in the
])rofonnd darkness that snrronnded her,
Polly conld feel and hear that they were
accompanied, and once or twice a faint
streak of light from the side of the tnnnel
showed her gigantic shadows walking
slowly on either side of the gliding car.
She felt the little hands of her associates
seeking hers, and knew they were awake
and conscious, and she returned to each a
reassuring pressure from the large pro-
tecting instinct of her maternal little
heart. Presently the car glided into an
open space of bright light, and stopped.
The transition from the darkness of the
tunnel at first dazzled their eyes. It was
like a dream.
They were in a circular cavern from
which three other tunnels, like the one
they had passed through, diverged. The
walls, lit up by fifty or sixty candles stuck
at irregular intervals in crevices of the
rock, were of glittering quartz and mica.
Put more remarkable than all were the in-
mates of the cavern, who were ranged
round Iho walls, men who, like their at-
tendants, secnncd to be of extra stature;
THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE. 329
wlio liad blaekoTicd faeos, wore rod ban-
dana liandkoreliicfs round their heads
and tlicir ".vaists, and carried enormous
knives and pistols stuck in tlieir ])elts. On
a raised ]datforui made of a ])ackino;-box
on Avhicli was rudely ])ainted a skull and
cross-bones, sat the chief oi- leader of the
hand covered with a buffalo robe ; on cither
side of liim were two small barrels marked
''Groc,'" aiul 'Gun])owder.'' The children
stared and clunp: closer to Polly. Yet, in
spite of these desperate and warlike ac-
cessories, the strano'ers bore a sinc:ular re-
semblance to "Christy ^Tinstrels" in their
blackened faces and attitudes that somehow
made them seem less awful. Tn particular,
P(^lly was impressed with tlio fact that
even the most ferocious had a certain
kindliness of eye, and showed their teeth
almost idiotically.
"Welcome!" said tlie leader, ''welcome
to the Pirates' Cave! The Red Pover of
the Xorth Fork of the S+anislaus Piver
salutes the Queen of the Pirate Isle!"
lie rose up aud made an extraordinary
bow. It was repeated by the others with
more or less exao'o-eration, to the point of
one humorist losing his balance !
330 THE QUEEX OF THE PIRATE T^I.E.
"Oil, tliank yon vcvx mneh," said Polly
timidly. Imt drawiiiir lior littlo flock closer
to her ^vitli a small protoetiiiG; arm; "but
eoidd yon Avould you please tell us
"what time it is T'
'"Wo <arc a])])roaoliiug the middle of
Xext Week/' said the leader cravely ; "but
what of that? Time is made for slaves!
The Ived Rover seeks it uot ! ^^^ly should
the Queen ?"
"I think \vo must be o^oinc;," he^sitated
Polly, yet by no means displeased with the
reeoiruition of her rank.
"Xot until we have paid homage to
Your Majesty," returned the leader.
"What ho! there! Lot Brother Step-and-
Feteh-Tt pass the Qneeii around that we
may do her honor." Ob-ervinc; that Polly
shrank slia'htly back, he added: "Fear
nothino'; the man w^ho hurts a hair of Tier
^lajesty's head dies bv this hand. Ah !
ha!"
The others all said ha! ha! and danced
alternately on one ]o<j and then on the
otluu", but always with the same dark re-
semblance to Christy Minsti'ol^^. Jb'othci-
Step-and-F(Mch-Tt, whose very long beard
had a confusing suggestion of Ixjing a ])art
Tin: o[-r:r:.\ of the pupate ihle. 381
of the leader's ])iifF:ilo rnl)(\ lifted lu-r
U'entlv ill lii^ anus and carried lier to ihe
!Je(l IJ()V(>rs in turn. Ka(di one heslowcd
a ki<s njioii lier elieek or foi'eliead, and
Avould lia\'e takcMi lior in his arms, or dn
Ins kiicf^-, oi" otherwise^ linircred o\-ei- his
salute, I)i;t tiiey were sternly re>i rained hy
tlieii- lea<lei". Wlu^n the solenui ]'ite was
eoncdndt'd, Ste]i-and-_Feteh-I t ])aid his own
eonlt(^-y witli an extra squeeze of the cnrly
head, and <](^]V)sited lier aa'aiii in tlie truck,
a little^ fria'litened, a little a<!oni-]ied, l)nt
with a considerahle accession to her dicr-
nity. Hickory and I'at'^ey h'oked on with
stujieflcd amazenieut. AVaii T.ee alone n^-
niained stolid and unimpressed, retrardinir
th(^ scene with calm ai^d triana'ular eyes.
"Will Your ]\rajesty see the Ked Ptovers
dance f
'"Xo, if yoTi please," said Polly, with
irentk' >eriousn(\-^s.
'"Will ^'our Majesty fire this harrel <if
irunpowdev. or tap this breaker of irrog ^"
'.\o. 1 thank you.''
'"1- there no conimaud Your ^lajesty
would lay u])on us C
"No, please," said P(dly, in a failing
voice.
832 THE QUEEX OF THE PIRATE Tf^LE.
"Is tlioTC anytln'iio; Yonr ]\Iajesty
lias lost? Think a^aiii ! Will Yonr
^rajesty doiii'ii to cast your royal eyes
on this'?"
Tic drew from under his buffalo robe
what sccukhI lil-:c a louc: tress of blond
hair, and held it aloft. Polly instantly
recognized the niissinG; scalp of her hapless
doll.'
'Mf you please, sir, it's Lady Mary's.
She's lost it."
"And lost it Your ^lajesty only to
find something luore precious. Wonld
Your ]\rajesty hear the story?"
A little alarined, a little curious, a little
self-anxious, and a little induced by the
nudg'cs and pinches of her companions, the
Queen blushingly signified her royal as-
sent.
"Enough. Bring refreshments. Will
Your ]\ra]esty prefer wintergreen, pepper-
mint, rose, or acidulated dro])s ? "Red or
white? Or ])erhaps Your ]\rajesty will
let uic recommend these bull's-eyes," said
tlic leader, as a collection of sweets in a
h;it wer(^ siuhieidy produced from the
bnri'cl hibele(| "Gunpowder" and handed
to llu,' children.
rill-J (jrFEX OF THE PIRATE IHLE. 333
'''TJstcii," lie f'ontiiuiod, in n silence^
bi'okcn only l)y tlic ii'ciitle snekinu' of l)nll's-
cycs. "Many years ai2,'o tlie old Itcd Hov-
ers of these parts locked np all their treas-
nrcs in a secret cavern in this nionntain.
They nscnl spells and magic to keej) it from
being entered or fonnd by anybody, for
there was a certain mark n]ion it made by
a ])ecnliar rock that stuck out of it, which
signified Avhat there vas Ix'hnv. Long af-
terwards, other Tied Tvovers who had heard
of it came here and spcnit days and days
trying to discover it, digging holes and
blasting tnnn(ds like this, but of no use!
Sometimes they thought they discovered
the magic marks in the peculiar rock that
stuck out of it, l)ur vdien they dug there
they found no treasure. And v.diy ? Be-
cause there was a magic spell npon it.
And what was that nuigic spell? AVhy,
tliis ! It could only be discovered by a
person who could not ])ossil)ly know that
h(> or sh(> had discovered it; who never
could (U' would be able to enjoy it; who
could never see it, never feel it, never, in
fact, kinnv anything at ;\11 about it! It
wasn't a dead man, it wasn't an animal, it
wasn't a bab\- !"
334 THE QUEEX OF THE PIRATE E^LE.
''Why," said Polly, jimipiiig up and
c-lapj)iii,ii,' her hanch;, "it was a Dolly."
"Your Majesty's head is level! Your
T\Ia]esty has i>'riessed it!" said the leader,
U'l'avely. '"It was Your ]\Iajesty''s own
dolly. Lady Mary, who broke tlie s})ell !
^\'h('n Your JMajesty came down the slide,
lhc doll fell from yonr i>;racions hand when
your foot sli])])cd. Your jMajesty recov-
ered Lady ]\Iary, but did not observe that
lu>r hair had cauiiht in a peculiar rock,
called the 'Outcrop,' and remained behind I
When, later on, while sitting witli your
attendants at the mouth of the tunnel,
Yowv Majesty discovered that Lady Mary's
hair was u'onc!, [ overheard Your ]\Lajesty,
and di.-])atched the trusty Step-and-Fetch-
It to seek it at tlic mountain side. lie did
so, and fonnd it clinii,'i?ic; to the rock, and
])eneath it the entrance to the Secret
(\ave!"
Patsey and Hickory, who, failin.'i' to un-
derstand a \\'0!'d of this ex])lanation, had
ii'i\'en tli(-uisel-.;es u]) to the uuconslrained
enjoyiuent of llie sweets, be,f^an now to a[)-
prehend thai .fime chnuf^'o was ini]K'ndinij,
!ind prepaiod '\;>v lhc worst by liastily
swallowinu' v:\''-\\ iliev had in their mouths,
77//; (}i:i:r\ of Tiir-j pirate isle. 385
iliiir- (IcfN-inii,- eiH'liaiitiiKMit, and ircttinu'
ii-;ul\' for sjx'ccli. .l?()llv, will) ]i;i(l 'io-cly
I'MlldWcd the si(jry, albeit witli the eiiihti-
lisliiiiciits (if licf own i]nac;inali(tn, made
!!(! eyes I'ouiidev tliau ever. A blaiid sudle
l>!'i:ki' on \\'au J.ee's face, as, to the chil-
d.i'cii's atnazeinent, lie quietly (]is(Migac;ed
hiiiisclf from the c;Toup and stepped l)cforc
ihc leader.
'"Meliean man ])]enty foolee ]\[elican
chillcrn. Xo foole<i China l)oy! (diina
hoy k!io\vee yon. Yon no hed Lofer. You
no J^ilat yon allee same tnnnel-man -
you Tm)]) .Folmson ! Ale shahlxxi yon!
Yon dressee np allee same as Led Lofer
hut y<m Lol) .Tohns()n- alle-e same. ]\ry
j'ader washcc wash(>e foi' yon. Vou no
[viyce him. You owee h.ini folty dolla !
Ale hliiiirco yon l)illee. ^'ou no ])ayec
hillcci You say, 'Chalkec np, -Tohu.'
\'ou say, 'Limcl)y, John.'' Tint me no
.Mt<-]ie(^ folty dolla'!"
.\ roar of laui;iiiei' followed, in which
e\-en the leader aj)])aren.tly forgot hims(df
cnr.u.u'h to join. P.ut the next lUfnuent
.'pi-inir:nu' to his fVet h^ shouted, "JIo! ho!
\ irailov! .Vway with him to the de(q)est
dunu'coii licncitih ihc eastle moat ! ''
336 THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE.
Iliekory and Patsey began to whimper.
l)nt Polly, albeit with a tremnlons lip,
stepjied to the side of her little Pagan
friend. ''Don't von dare toneh him," she
said with a shake of unexpected determi-
nation in her little curly head ; "if you do,
I'll tell my father, and he will slay you !
All of you there !"
"Your father! Then you are not the
Queen !"
It was a sore struggle to Polly to abdi-
cate her royal position ; it was harder to
do it with befitting dignity. To evade the
direct question she was obliged to abandon
hor defiant attitude. "If you please, sir,"
she said hurriedly, with an increasing color
and no stops, 'Sve'rc not always Pirates,
you know, and Wan Lee is only our boy
what brushes my shoes in the morning, and
runs of errands, and he doesn't mean any-
thing bad, sir, and we'd like to take him
back home with us."
"Enough," said the leader, changing his
entire manner with the most sudden and
shameless inconsistency. "You shall go
back together, and woe betide the mis-
creant who would ]U"event it ! What say
vou, brothers ? Wliat shall be his fate who
TTIE QFEEy OF THE PIRATE ISLE. 337
(lares to so]varatc our noble Qiiocn from her
faithful Chinese henchman ?"
''lie shall die!" roared the others, with
beaminc; cheerfulness.
''And what say you shall we see them
home ?"
"We will !" roared the others.
Before the children could fairly com-
prehend what had passed, they were again
lifted into the truck and began to glide
back into the tunnel they had just quitted.
But not again in darkness and silence ; the
entire band of Bed Bovers accompanied
them, illuminating the dark passage with
the candles they had snatched from the
walls. In a few moments they were at
the entrance again. The great world lay
]>eyond them once more with rocks and
valleys suffused by the rosy light of th.e
setting sun. The past seemed like a dream.
T]ut were they really awake now ? They
could not tell. They accepted everything
with the confidence and credulity of all
children who have no experience to com-
])are with their first impressions and to
whom the future contains notliing im]~os-
sible. It was without surpris(\ therefV>re,
that they felt themselves lifted on the
L -Bret Harte v. 22
333 THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE.
shoulders of the men who were making
quite a procession along the steep trail
towards the settlement again. Polly no-
ticed that at the month of the other tun-
nels they were greeted by men as if they
were carrying tidings of great joy ; that
they stopped to rejoice together, and that
in some mysterious manner their con-
ductors had got their faces washed, and had
bcicome more like beings of the outer world.
When they neared the settlement the ex-
citement seemed to have become greater;
people rushed out to shake hands with the
men who were carrying them, and over-
powered even the children with questions
tliey could not understand. Only one sen-
tence Polly could clearly remember as be-
ing the burden of all congratulations.
''Struck the old lead at last !" With a faint
consciousness that she knew something
about it, she tried to assume a dignified
attitude on the leader's slioulders, even
while she was beginning to be heavy with
sleep.
And then she remembered a crowd neai
her father's house, out of which her father
came smiling pleasantly on her, but not
interfering with her triumphal progress
THE QUEEX OF TUB PIRATE ISLE. 339
miti] the leader fmallv deposited her in her
mother's hip in their own sitting-room.
And tlien she remcml)ered beinc; "cross,"
and declining to answer any questions, and
shortly afterwards found herself comfort-
ably in bed. Then she heard her mother
say to her father:
"It really seems too ridiculous for any-
thing. John ; the idea of those grown men
dressing themselves up, to play with chil-
dren."
''Ridiculous or not," said her father,
"these grown men of the Excelsior mine
have just struck the famous old lode of
Red ^Mountain, which is as good as a for-
tune to everybody on the Ridge, and were
as wild as boys! And they say it never
would have Ix'cn found if Polly hadn't
tumbled over the slide directly on top of
the outcrop, and left the absurd wig of
that wretched doll of hers to mark its
site."
"And that," murmured Polly sleepily
to her doll as she drew it closer to her
breast, "is all that they know of it."
INDEX
I. ADRIFT FROM TWO SHORES, ETC.
II. A WAIF OF THE PLAINS, ETC.
III. A WARD OF THE GOLDEN GATE, ETC.
IV. TRENT'S TRUST, ETC.
V. CONDEN.^ED NOVELS, ETC.
VI. BARKER'S LUCK. ETC.
VII THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP, ETC.
Vni. COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS.
IX. OPENINGS IN THE OLD TRAIL, ETC.
X. UNDER THE REDWOODS.
XI. FROM SAND HILL TO PINE, ETC.
XII. MR. JACK HAMLINS MEDIATION, ETC.
Xlli. STORIES IN LIGHT AND SHADOW, ETC.
XIV. TALES OF TRAIL AND TOWN.
XV. THREE PARTNERS.
XVI. TALES OF THE ARGONAUTS, ETC.
XVII. MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS.
XVIIl. CLARENCE, ETC.
XIX. THE BELL RINGER OF ANGEL'S
XX. A PROTEGEE OF JACK HAMLIN'S, ETC.
X\I. SALLY DOWS, ETC.
XXII. A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA. ETC.
XXI !I. COLONEL STARBOTTLE'S CLIENT, ETC.
XXIV. CRESSY. ETC.
XXV. A SAPPHO OF GREEN SPRINGS, ETC.
Adventures of John Long-
bow, Yeoman, v.
Adventure of Padre Vi-
ccntio, The, xvii.
All Baba of the Sierras,
An, ix.
Ancestors of Peter Ath-
erly, The, xiv.
Angel's, The Bell Ringer
of, xix.
Apostle of the Tules,
An, i.
Argonauts of North Lib-
erty, The, xiii.
At the Mission of San
Carmel, xvi.
Baby Sylvester, xvi.
Balcony, From a, xvii.
Barker's Luck, vi.
Boy's Dog, A, xvii.
Belle of Canada City,
A. xi.
Bell Ringer of Angel's.
The, xix.
Biographical Sketch, viii.
Blue Grass Penelope, A,
xvi.
Bohemian Days in San
Francisco, x.
Bohemian Papers, vii.
Bolinas Plain, .ludgment
of, xiv.
Boom in the "Calaveras
Clarion," The, xii.
Boonder, vii.
Broker, The Devil and
the, xvii.
Brown of Calaveras, vii.
Buckeye Hollow Inheri-
tance, A, ix.
Bulger's Reputation, vi.
By Shore and Sedge, i.
"Calaveras Clarion," The
Boom in the, xii.
Captain Jim's Friend, iii.
Carquinez Woods, In the, ii.
Charitable Reminiscences,
xvii.
Chatelaine of Burnt
Ridge, The, xxv.
Christmas Gift that Came
to liupcrt. The. xvii.
Cliu Cliu, xix.
Clarence, xviii.
3-iO
INDEX.
841
Colonel Starbottle for the
Plaintiff, ix.
Colonel Starbottle's Cli-
ent, xxiii.
Complete I'oetical Work.s,
V i i i .
Condensed NoveLs, v.
Condensed Novels, Now
lUirlesque, v.
Conspiracy of Mrs.
ISunkcr, The, xxi.
Convalescence of Jack
Hamlin, The, iv.
Convert of the Mission,
A, vi.
Cressy, xxiv.
Crusade of the Excelsior,
The, iv.
Dan'l Borem, v.
Desborou,2:h Connections,
The, xiii.
Devil and the Broker,
The, xvii.
Devil's Ford, ii.
Devil's Point, The Leg-
end of, xvii.
Devotion of Enriiiuez,
The, vi.
Dick Boyle's Business
Card. iv.
Dick Spindler's Family
Christmas, xii,
Dolores, Mission, vii.
Dows, Sally, x.xi.
Drift from Redwood
Camp, A, xxi.
Dweller of the Threshold,
The. V.
Episode of Fiddletown.
.Vn, xvi.
Episode of West Wood-
lar.ds. An, xx.
Esmeralda of Rocky
Canon, An, xii.
Fantine, v.
First Family of Tasajara,
.\. xxii.
Flii), xxii.
Flood and Field, Notes
by. vii.
P''ool of Five Forks, The.
x \' i .
Fo<)t-IUlls. .V Kni.ght Er-
rant of tlie, iii.
Foot-Hills, A Mercury of
tlie, ix.
Foot-Hills, Two Saints of
the, i.
Ford, Devil's, ii.
Found at Blazing Star,
.xxiii.
Four Guardians of La-
grange, The, XXV.
From a Back Window, vii.
From a Balcony, xvii.
From Sand Hill to Pine,
xi.
German Si)ion, Views
from a. xxiv.
Ghosts of Stukeley Castle,
The, xxiii.
Goddess of Excelsior, The,
ix.
Golden Gate. A Ward of
the, iii.
Golly and the Christian ;
or, the Minx and the
Manxman, v.
Great Deadwood Mystery,
The, xxiv.
Green Springs, A Sappho
of, XXV.
Guy Hcavystone, v.
Hamlin, .lack. The Con-
valescence of, iv.
Hamlin's, .Jack, A Pro-
tegee of, XX.
Hamlin's. Mr. .Jack, Medi-
ation, xii.
Handsome Is as Hand-
some I )oes, V.
Haunted Man, The, v.
Heiress of Red Dog, An,
xxiv.
Heir of the McHulishes,
The, XX.
IIeri!:>,ge of Dcdlow
Marsh. The. iii.
Hcavystone. Guy, v.
Hiirh-Water Mark. vii.
Hollow of the Hills, In a,
\-i.
Homecoming of .lim
Wilkes. The, xx.
Hoodlum Band. The, 1.
How I Went to the Mines,
ix.
How Old Man Plunket
Went Home, xvi.
How Reuben Allen ''Saw
Life" in San Fran-
cisco, X.
342
INDEX.
How Santa Glaus Came
to Simpson's Bar, xvii.
Idyl of Red Gulch, The,
vii.
Iliad of Sandy Bar, The,
xvii.
In a Hollow of the Hills,
vi.
In a Pioneer Restaurant,
xxiil.
Indiscretion of Elsbeth,
The, vi.
Ingenue of the Sierras,
An, XX.
In the Carquinez Woods,
ii.
In the Tules, vi.
Jack and Jill of the
Sierras, A, xl.
Jack Hamlin's, A Pro-
tegee of, XX.
Jack Hamlin's, Mr., Medi-
ation, xii.
Jack Hamlin, The Con-
valescence of, iv.
Jeff Briggs's Love Story,
XX.
Jenkins, John, v.
Jersey Centenarian, A,
xvi.
Jimmy's Big Brother
from California, x.
Jinny, i.
John Chinaman, vii.
John Jenkins, v.
John Longbow, Yeoman,
The Adventures of, v.
Johnnyboy, xix.
Johnson's "Old Woman,"
xxiii.
Judgment of Bolinas
Plain, xiv.
Knight Errant of the
Foot-Hills, A, iii.
"La Fomme," v.
Landlord of the Big
Flume Hotel, The, ix.
Lanty Foster's Mistake,
ix.
Laurel Run, The Post-
mistress of, xxiii.
Lee, Wan, the Pagan, xvi.
Left Out on Lone Star
Mountain, xvi.
Legend of Devil's Point,
The, xvii.
Legend of Monte del
Diablo, The, xvii.
Legend of Sammtstadt, A,
xxiv.
Liberty Jones's Discov-
ery, xii.
Light and Shadow, Stories
in, xiii.
Lonely Ride, A, vii.
Lothaw, V.
Luck of Roaring Camp,
The, vii.
Madrono Hollow, The
Romance of, xvii.
Maecenas of the Pacific
Slope, A, xxv.
Man and Mountain, The,
xiii.
Man at the Semaphore,
The, xii.
Man from Solano, The, i.
Man of No Account, vii.
Man on the Beach, The, i.
Man Whose Yoke Was
Not Easy, The, i.
Maruja, i.
Mary McGillup, v.
Melons, xvii.
Mercury of the Foot-
Hills, A, ix.
Mermaid of Lighthouse
Point, The, x.
Miggles, vii.
Millionaire of Rough-and-
Ready, A, ii.
Mines, How I Went to
the, ix.
Mission Dolores, vii.
Mission of San Carmel,
At the, xvi.
Miss Peggy's Proteges, ix.
Miss Mix, v.
Mr. Bilson's Housekeeper,
xi.
Mr. Jack Hamlin's Medi-
ation, xii.
Mr. John Oakhurst, Pas-
sage in the Life of, xvi.
Mr. MacGlowrie's Widow,
iv.
Mr. Midshipman Breezy,
V.
Mr. Thompson's Prodigal,
xvii.
Mrs. Bunker, The Con-
spiracy of, xxi.
INDEX.
343
Mrs. Skaggs's Husbands,
xvii.
Mix, Miss, V.
M'liss, vii.
Morning on the Avenue, 1.
Mother of Five, A, vi.
Muck-a-Muek, v.
>Iy First Book, xix.
My Friend, the Tramp, i.
Mystery of the Hacienda,
The, xix.
My Suburban Residence,
xvii.
Neighborhoods I Have
Moved from, xvii.
New Assistant at Pine
Clearing School, The,
xxiii.
Niece of Snapshot
Harry, A, xi.
Night at "Hays," A, xxiu.
Night at Wingdam, A,
xvii.
Night on the Divide, A.
xiv.
Ninety-nine Guardsmen,
The, V.
N. N, V.
North Liberty, The Argo-
nauts of, xiii.
Notes by Flood and I<''ield,
vii.
No Title, V.
Office-seeker, The, i.
Ogress of Silver Land,
The, xvii.
Old Trail, Openings in
the, ix.
On a Vulgar Little Boy,
xvii.
On the Frontier, xvi.
Openings in the Old
Trail, ix.
Outcasts of Poker Flat,
The, vii.
Out of a Pioneer's Trunk,
xxiii.
Padre Vicentio, The Ad-
venture of, xvii.
Passing of Enriquez, The,
xiii.
Peter Atherly. The An-
cestors of. xiv.
Peter Schroeder, xxv.
Phyllis of the Sierras, A,
xxi.
Pioneer Restaurant, In a,
xxiii.
Pioneer's Trunk, Out of
a, xxiii.
Pirate Isle, The Queen of
the, xxii.
Poet of Sierra Flat, The,
xvii.
Poetical Works, viii.
Poker Flat, The Outcasts
of, vii.
Postmistress of Laurel
Run, The, xxiii.
Princess Bob and Her
Friends, The, xvii.
Prosper's "Old Mother,"
iv.
Protegee of Jack Ham-
lin's. A, XX.
Proteges, Miss Peggy's,
ix.
Pupil of Chestnut RIage,
A, iv.
Queen of the Pirate Isle,
The, xxii.
Red Dog, An Heiress of,
XX iv.
Redwoods, Under the, x.
Reformation of James
Reddy, The, xx.
Reincarnation of Smith,
The, ix.
Ride, A I^onely, vii.
Right Eye of the Com-
mander, The, vii.
Robin Gray, Young, xix.
Roger Catron's Friend, i.
Romance of Madrono
Hollow, The, xvii.
Romance of the Line,
A, X.
Rose of Glenbogie, A,
xix.
Rose of Tuolumne, The,
xvi.
Rough-and-Ileady, A Mil-
lionaire of, ii.
Ruins of San Francisco,
The, xvii.
Rui)ert the Resemblcr, v.
Sally Dows, xxi.
Salomy Jane's Kiss, xiii.
Sammtstadt, A Legend of,
xxiv.
Sand Hill to Pine, F'rom,
344
INDEX.
Sandy Bar, The Iliad of,
xvii.
Sandy Bar, Two Men of,
xii.
Santa Clara Wheat,
Through the, xxv.
Sappho of Green Springs,
A, xxv.
Sarah Walker, i.
Schroeder, Peter, xxv.
Secret of Sobriente's
Well, The, xii.
Secret of Telegraph Hill,
A, iii.
"Seeing the Steamer Off,"
xvii.
See Yup, xiii.
Selina Sedilia. v.
Sheriff of Siskiyou, The,
xix.
Ship of '49, A, i.
Sidewalkings, xvii.
Sketches, vii.
Sleeping Car Experience,.
A, i.
Snowbound at Eagle's, ii.
Starbottle, Colonel, for
the Plaintiff, ix.
Starbottle's Client, Colo-
nel, xxiii.
Stolen Cigar Case, The, v.
Stories in Light and
Shadow, xiii.
Story of the Mine, The,
xviii.
Strange Experience of
Alkali Dick, The, xiv.
Surprising Adventures of
Master Charles Sum-
merton, xvii.
Susy, a Story of the
Plains, vii.
Tale of Three Truants,
A, xiv.
Tales of the Argonauts,
xvi.
Tales of Trail and Town,
xiv.
Tennessee's Partner, vii.
Terence Denville, v.
Thankful Blossom, i.
Their Uncle from Cali-
fornia, xxi.
Three Partners : or. The
P.ig Strike on Heavy
Tree Hill, xv.
Three Vagabonds of
Trinidad, x.
Througli the Santa Clara
Wheat, xxv.
Tourist from Injianny, A,
xi.
Transformation of Buck-
eye Camp, The, xxi.
Treasure of the Galleon,
A, xxiii.
Treasure of the Red-
woods, A, xi.
Trent's Trust, iv.
Tules. In the, vi.
Twins of Table Moun-
tain, The, xxiv.
Two Americans, xiv.
Two Men of Sandy Bar,
xii.
Two Saints of the Foot-
Hills, i.
Uncle Jim and Uncle
Billy, xiii.
Under the Eaves, x.
Under the Redwoodu, x.
"Unser Karl," xiii.
Venerable Impostor, A,
xvii.
Views from a German
Spion, xxiv.
Vision of the Fountain,
A, X.
Vulgar Little Boy, On a,
xvii.
Waif of the Plains, A, ii.
Waiting for the Ship,
xvii.
Wan Lee, the Pagan, xvi.
Ward of Colonel Starbot-
tle's, A, iv.
Ward of the Golden Gate,
A, iii.
What Happened at the
Fonda, xi.
When the Waters were
Up at "Jules," xii-
Widow of Santa Ana Val-
ley, X.
Willi the Entrees, i.
Yellow Dog, A, vi.
Young Robin Gray, xix.
Youngest Miss Piper,
The, X.
Youngest Prospector on
Calaveras, The, xiv.
"Zut-Ski," V.
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