THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Joseph P. Loeb
 
 Boating Camp edition 
 
 THE WRITINGS OF 
 BRET HARTE 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTIONS, GLOSSARY, AND 
 INDEXES 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 VOLUME II
 
 MR. HARTE IN 1872
 
 TALES OF THE ARGONAUTS 
 
 BY 
 
 BRET HARTE 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 
 (Cbe tttoewibc press Cam b riffle
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1872 AND 1875, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD * CO. 
 COPYRIGHT, 1878 AND 1879, BY HOUGHTON, OSGOOD & CO. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1882, 1896, 1903, 1906, AND 1907, BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN * CO 
 COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY BRET HARTE 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
 
 FOt 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PASS 
 
 INTRODUCTION ........... ix 
 
 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR ........ 1 
 
 MK. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL ........ 14 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW ...... 24 
 
 THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT ........ 38 
 
 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HEK FRIENDS ..... 51 
 
 I!o\v SANTA CLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR .... 60 
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS ........ 84 
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN ........ 121 
 
 A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OK MR. JOHN OAKHURST ... 171 
 
 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE ......... 197 
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL : How OLD MAN PLUNKETT WEST 
 
 HOME ... ......... 224 
 
 BABY SYLVESTER ........ ... 244 
 
 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN . ...... 262 
 
 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG . ....... 280 
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH ........ 298 
 
 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND ......... 335 
 
 "JINNY" ............ 351 
 
 Two SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS ....... 361 
 
 "Wno WAS MY QUIET FRIEND" ....... 375 
 
 " A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " ........ 385 
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS ........ 397 
 
 THE MAN FROM SOLANO ......... 423 
 
 i GHOST OF THE SIERRAS ........ 432 
 
 554765
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 MM 
 
 BRET HARTE, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN 
 
 IN 1872. Frontispiece. 
 
 VIGNETTE ON ENGRAVED TITLE-PAGE . . Charles H. Woodbury . 
 
 THE TWO OPPONENTS CAME NEARER . . Frederic Remington . 4 
 
 TELL HIM 'SANDY CLAUS HAS COME . . . E. Boyd Smith ... 82 
 
 Is IT MAMMA ? Guy Rose 128 
 
 A WOMAN'S FACE WAS ALWAYS BEFORE 
 
 HIM Guy Rose 300 
 
 THE GENTLE LADY AND HER FOUR-FOOTED 
 
 FRIEND B. West Clinedinst . . 358 
 
 HE LOOKED AV HER WITH FIXED, DUMB 
 
 EYES B. West Clinedinst . . 422
 
 INTRODUCTION ' 
 
 As so much of my writing has dealt with the Argonauts 
 of '49, I propose, by way of introduction, to discourse briefly 
 on an episode of American life as quaint and typical as 
 that of the Greek adventurers whose name I have bor- 
 rowed. It is a crusade without a cross, an exodus with- 
 out a prophet. It is not a pretty story ; I do not know 
 that it is even instructive. It is of a life of which, per- 
 haps, the best that can be said is that it exists no longer. 
 
 Let me first give an idea of the country which these 
 people re-created, and the civilization they displaced. 
 For more than three hundred years California was of all 
 Christian countries the least known. The glow and gla- 
 mour of Spanish tradition and discovery hung about it. 
 There was an English map in which it was set down as an 
 island. There was the Rio de Los Reyes a kind of 
 gorgeous Mississippi leading directly to the heart of the 
 Continent, which De Fonte claimed to have discovered. 
 There was the Anian passage a prophetic forecast of the 
 Pacific Railroad through which Maldonado declared that 
 he sailed to the North Atlantic. Another Spanish discov- 
 erer brought his mendacious personality directly from the 
 Pacific, by way of Columbia River, to Lake Ontario; on 
 which, I am rejoiced to say, he found a Yankee vessel from 
 Boston, whose captain informed him that he had come up 
 from the Atlantic only a few days before him! Along the 
 long line of iron-bound coast the old freebooters chased the 
 
 1 This Introduction, in its original use, was a lecture to English and 
 American audiences.
 
 X INTRODUCTION 
 
 timid Philippine galleons, and in its largest bay, beside 
 the present gateway of the West, San Francisco, Sir 
 Francis Drake lay for two weeks and scraped the barnacles 
 from his adventurous keels. It is only within the past 
 twenty-five years, that a company of gold-diggers, turning 
 up the ocean sands near Port Umpqua, came upon some 
 large cakes of wax deeply imbedded in the broken and fire- 
 scarred ribs of a wreck of ancient date. The Calif ornian 
 heart was at once fired at the discovery, and in a few 
 weeks a hundred men or more were digging, burrowing, 
 and scraping for the lost treasure of the Philippine gal- 
 leon. At last they found what think you ? a few 
 cutlasses with an English stamp upon their blades. The 
 enterprising and gallant and slightly piratical Sir 
 Francis Drake had been there before them ! 
 
 Yet they were peaceful, pastoral days for California. 
 Through the great central valley the Sacramento poured 
 an unstained current into a majestic bay, ruffled by no 
 keels and fretted by no wharves. The Angelus bell rung 
 at San Bernardino, and, taken up by every Mission tower 
 along the darkening coast, called the good people to prayer 
 and sleep before nine o'clock every night. Leagues of 
 wild oats, progenitors of those great wheat fields that now 
 drug the markets, hung their idle heads on the hillsides; 
 vast herds of untamed cattle, whose hides and horns alone 
 made the scant commerce of those days, wandered over the 
 illimitable plains, knowing no human figure but that of 
 the yearly riding vaquero on his unbroken mustang, which 
 they regarded as the early aborigines did the Spanish 
 cavalry, as one individual creation. Around the white 
 walls of the Mission buildings were clustered the huts of 
 the Indian neophytes, who dressed neatly, but not expen- 
 sively, in mud. Presidios garrisoned by a dozen raw 
 militiamen kept the secular order, and in the scattered 
 pueblos rustic alcaldes dispensed, like Sancho Panza, pro-
 
 INTRODUCTION X? 
 
 rerbial wisdom and practical equity to the bucolic litigants. 
 In looking over some Spanish law papers, one day, I came 
 upon a remarkable instance of the sagacity of Alcalde 
 Felipe Gomez of Santa Barbara. An injured wife accused 
 her husband of serenading the wife of another. The faith- 
 less husband and his too seductive guitar were both produced 
 in court. "Play," said the alcalde to the gay Lothario. 
 The unfortunate man was obliged to repeat his amorous per- 
 formance of the preceding night. "I find nothing here," 
 said the excellent alcalde after a moment's pause, "but 
 an infamous voice and an execrable style. I dismiss the 
 complaint of the Senora, but I shall hold the Sen or on the 
 charge of vilely disturbing the peace of Santa Barbara." 
 
 They were happy, tranquil days. The proprietors of 
 the old ranches ruled in a patriarchal style, and lived to 
 a patriarchal age. On a soil half tropical in its character, 
 in a climate wholly original in its practical conditions, a 
 soft-handed Latin race slept and smoked the half year's 
 sunshine away, and believed that they had discovered a 
 new Spain ! They awoke from their dream only to find 
 themselves strangers on their own soil, foreigners in their 
 own country, ignorant even of the treasure they had been 
 sent to guard. A political and social earthquake, more 
 powerful than any physical convulsions they had ever 
 known, shook the foundation of the land, and in the dis- 
 rupted strata and rent fissures the treasure suddenly glit- 
 tered before their eyes. 
 
 Though the change came upon them suddenly, it had 
 been prefigured by a chain of circumstances whose logical 
 links future historians will not overlook. It was not the 
 finding of a few grains of gold by a day laborer' at Sutter's 
 Mill, but that for years before the way had been slowly 
 opened and the doors unlocked to the people who were to 
 profit by this discovery. The real pioneers of the lawless, 
 irreligious band whose story I am repeating were the oldest
 
 x jj INTRODUCTION 
 
 and youngest religions known. Do Americans ever think 
 that they owe their right to California to the Catholic 
 Church and the Mormon brotherhood? Yet Father Juni- 
 pero, Serra ringing his bell in the heathen wilderness of 
 Upper California, and Brigham Young leading his half 
 famished legions from Nauvoo to Salt Lake, were the two 
 great commanders of the Argonauts of '49. All that 
 western emigration which, prior to the gold discovery, 
 penetrated the Oregon and California vallej'S and half 
 Americanized the Coast, would have perished by the way, 
 but for the providentially created oasis of Salt Lake City. 
 The halting trains of alkali-poisoned oxen, the footsore 
 and despairing teamsters, gathered rest and succor from the 
 Mormon settlement. The British frigate that sailed into 
 the port of Monterey a day or two late, saw the American 
 flag that had, under this providence, crossed the continent, 
 flying from the Cross of the Cathedral! A day sooner, 
 and this story might have been an English record. 
 
 Were our friends, the Argonauts, at all affected by these 
 coincidences? I think not. They had that lordly con- 
 tempt for a southern, soft-tongued race which belonged to 
 their Anglo-Saxon lineage. They were given to no super- 
 stitious romance, exalted by no special mission, stimulated 
 by no high ambition ; they were skeptical of even the exist- 
 ence of the golden fleece until they saw it. Equal to their 
 fate, they accepted with a kind of heathen philosophy 
 whatever it might bring. "If there isn't any gold, what 
 are you going to do with these sluice-boxes ? " said a 
 newly arrived emigrant to his friend. " They will make 
 first-class coffins," answered the friend, with the simple 
 directness of a man who has calculated all his chances. If 
 they did not burn their vessels behind them, like Pizarro, 
 they at least left the good ship Argo dismantled and rot- 
 ting at their Colchian wharf. Sailors were shipped only 
 for the outward voyage ; nobody expected to return, even
 
 INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 those who anticipated failure. Fertile in expedients, they 
 twisted their failures into a certain sort of success. Until 
 recently, there stood in San Francisco a house of the early 
 days whose foundations were built entirely of plug tobacco 
 in boxes. The consignee had found a glut in the tobacco 
 market, but lumber for foundations was at a tremendous 
 premium! An Argonaut just arriving was amazed at rec- 
 ognizing in the boatman who pulled him ashore, and who 
 charged him the modest sum of fifty dollars for the per- 
 formance, a brother classmate of Cambridge. " Were you 
 not," he asked eagerly, " senior wrangler in '43?" " Yes," 
 s;iid the other significantly, " but 1 also pulled stroke oar 
 against Oxford." if the special training of years sometimes 
 failed to procure pecuniary recognition, an idle accomplish- 
 ment, sometimes even a physical peculiarity, succeeded. 
 At my first breakfast in a restaurant on Long AVharf, I 
 was haunted during the meal by a shadowy resemblance 
 which the waiter who took my order bore to a gentleman 
 to whom in my boyhood I had looked up as a mirror of 
 elegance, urbanity, and social accomplishment. Fearful 
 lest I should insult the waiter who carried a. revolver 
 by this reminiscence, I said nothing to him; but a later 
 inquiry of the proprietor proved that my suspicions were 
 correct. "He's mighty handy," said the man, "and kin 
 talk elegant to a customer as is waiting for his cakes, and 
 make him kinder forget he ain't sarved." With an earnest 
 desire to restore my old friend to his former position, I 
 asked if it would not be possible to fill his place. "I 'm 
 afraid not," said the proprietor with a sudden suspicion, 
 and he added significantly, "I don't think you'd suit." 
 It was this wonderful adaptability, perhaps influenced by a 
 climate that produced fruit out of season, that helped the 
 Argonauts to success, or mitigated their defeats. A now 
 distinguished lawyer, remarkable for his Herculean build, 
 found himself on landing without a cent rather let me
 
 iiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 ay without twenty dollars to pay the porterage of hi& 
 trunk to the hotel. Shouldering it, he was staggering from 
 the landing, when a stranger stepped towards him, remark- 
 ing he had not "half a load," quietly added his own valise 
 to the lawyer's burden, and handing him ten dollars and 
 his address, departed before the legal gentleman could re- 
 cover from his astonishment. The valise, however, was 
 punctually delivered, and the lawyer often congratulated 
 himself on the comparative ease with which he won his 
 farst fee. 
 
 Much of the easy adaptability was due to the character 
 of the people. What that character was, perhaps it would 
 not be well to say. At least I should prefer to defer criti- 
 cism until I could add to the calmness the safe distance of 
 the historian. You will find some of their peculiarities 
 described in the frank autobiographies of those two gentle- 
 men who executed a little commission for Macbeth in 
 which Banquo was concerned. In distant parts of the 
 continent they had left families, creditors, arid in some 
 instances even officers of justice, perplexed and lamenting. 
 There were husbands who had deserted their own wives, 
 and in some extreme cases even the wives of others, 
 for this haven of refuge. Nor was it possible to tell from 
 their superficial exterior, or even their daily walk and 
 action, whether they were or were not named in the counts 
 of this general indictment. Some of the best men had the 
 worst antecedents, some of the worst rejoiced in a spotless 
 puritan pedigree. "The boys seem to have taken a fresh 
 deal all round," said Mr. John Oakhurst one day to me, 
 with the easy confidence of a man who was conscious of 
 his ability to win my money, "and there is no knowing 
 whether a man will turn up knave or king." It is rele- 
 vant to this anecdote that Mr. John Oakhurst himself 
 came of a family whose ancestors regarded games of chance 
 as sinful, because they were trifling and amusing, but who
 
 INTRODUCTION XV 
 
 had never conceived they might be made the instruments 
 of successful speculation and even tragic earnestness. "To 
 think," said Mr. Oakhurst, as he rose from a ten minutes' 
 sitting with a gain of five thousand dollars, "to think 
 there 's folks as believes that keerds is a waste of time." 
 
 Such were the character and the antecedents of the men 
 who gave the dominant and picturesque coloring to the 
 life of that period. Doubtless the papers of the ancient 
 Argo showed a cleaner bill of moral health, but doubtless 
 no type of adventure more distinct or original. I would 
 not have it inferred that there was not a class, respectable 
 in numbers as in morals, among and yet distinct from 
 these. But they have no place here save as a background 
 to the salient outlines and deeply etched figures of the 
 Argonauts. Character ruled, and the strongest was not 
 always the best. Let me bring them a little nearer. Let 
 me sketch two pictures of them : one in their gathered con- 
 course in their city by the sea, one in their lonely scattered 
 cabins in the camps of the Sierras. 
 
 It is the memorable winter of '52, a typical Californian 
 winter unlike anything known to most of my readers ; 
 a winter from whose snowy nest in the Sierras the flutter- 
 ing, new-fledged Spring freed itself without a struggle. 
 It is a season of falling rains and springing grasses, of long 
 nights of shower, and days of cloud and sunshine. There 
 are hours when the quickening earth seems to throb be- 
 neath one's feet, and the blue eyes of heaven to twinkle 
 through its misty lashes. High up in the Sierras, unsunned 
 depths of snow form the vast reservoirs that later will flood 
 the plains, causing the homesick wanderers on the low- 
 lands to look with awe upon a broad expanse of overflow, 
 a lake that might have buried the State of Massachusetts 
 in its yellow depths. The hillsides are gay with flowers, 
 and, as in the old fairy story, every utterance of the kindly 
 Spring falls from her lips to the ground in rubies and
 
 xvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 emeralds. And yet it is called " a hard season," and flour Is 
 fifty dollars a barrel. In San Francisco it has been raining 
 steadily for two weeks. The streets are almost impas- 
 sable with mud, and over some of the more dangerous 
 depths planks are thrown. There are few street lamps, 
 but the shops are still lighted, and the streets are full of 
 long- bearded, long- booted men, eager for some new ex- 
 citement, their only idea of recreation from the feverish 
 struggle of the day. Perhaps it is a passing carriage 
 a phenomenal carriage, one of the half dozen known in 
 the city that becoming helplessly mired is instantly sur- 
 rounded by a score of willing hands whose owners are only 
 too happy to be rewarded by a glimpse of a female face 
 through the window, even though that face be haggard, 
 painted, or gratuitously plain. Perhaps it is in the little 
 theatre, where the cry of a baby in the audience brings 
 down a tumultuous encore from the whole house. Per- 
 haps it is in the gilded drinking saloon, into which some 
 one rushes with arms extended at right angles, and con- 
 veys in that one pantomimic action the signal of the sema- 
 phore telegraph on Telegraph Hill that a sidewheel steamer 
 has arrived, and that there are "letters from home." 
 Perhaps it is the long queue that afterwards winds and 
 stretches from the Post Office half a mile away. Perhaps 
 it is the eager men who, following it rapidly down, bid 
 fifty, a hundred, two hundred, three hundred, and five 
 hundred dollars for favored places in the line. PP?- 
 haps it is the haggard man who nervously tears open iris 
 letter and after a moment's breathless pause faints and falls 
 senseless beside his comrades. Or perhaps it is a row 
 and a shot in the streets, but in '52 this was hardly an 
 excitement. 
 
 The gambling-saloon is always the central point of inter- 
 est. There are four of them, the largest public buildings 
 in the city, thronged and crowded all night. They are
 
 INTRODUCTION XV ii 
 
 approached by no mysterious passage or guarded entrance, 
 I Ait are frankly open to the street, with the further invita- 
 tion of gilding, lights, warmth, and music. Strange to 
 say, there is a quaint decorum about them. They are 
 the quietest halls in San Francisco. There is no drunken- 
 ness, no quarreling, scarcely any exultation or disappoint- 
 ment. Men who have already staked their health and 
 fortune in this emigration are but little affected by the 
 lesser stake on red or black, or the turn of a card. Busi 
 ness men who have gambled all day in their legitimate 
 enterprise find nothing to excite them unduly here. In 
 the intervals of music, a thoughtful calm pervades the vast 
 assembly ; people move around noiselessly from table to 
 table, as if Fortune were nervous as well as fickle; a cane 
 falling upon the floor causes every one to look up, a loud 
 laugh or exclamation excites a stare of virtuous indigna- 
 tion. The most respectable citizens, though they might 
 not play, are to be seen here of an evening. Old friends, 
 who perhaps parted at the church door in the States, meet 
 here without fear and without reproach. Even among 
 the players are represented all classes and conditions of 
 men. One night at a faro table a player suddenly slipped 
 from his seat to the floor, a dead man. Three doctors, 
 also players, after a brief examination, pronounced it dis- 
 ease of the heart. The coroner, sitting at the right of the 
 dealer, instantly impaneled the rest of the players, who, 
 laying down their cards, briefly gave a verdict in accordance 
 with the facts, and wnt on with their game! 
 
 I do not mean to say that, under this surface calm, 
 there was not often the intensest feeling. There was a 
 Western man, who, having made a few thousands in the 
 mines, came to San Francisco to take the Eastern steamer 
 home. The night before he was to sail, he entered the 
 Arcade saloon, and seating himself at a table in sheer list- 
 lessness, staked a twenty -dollar gold piece on the game.
 
 xviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 He won. He won again without removing his stake. It 
 was, in short, that old story told so often how in two 
 hours he won a fortune, how an hour later he rose from 
 the table a ruined man. Well the steamer sailed with- 
 out him. He was a simple man, knowing little of the 
 world, and his sudden fortune and equally sudden reverse 
 almost crazed him. He dared not write to the wife who 
 awaited him ; he had not pluck enough to return to the 
 mines and build his fortune up anew. A fatal fascination 
 held him to the spot. He took some humble occupation 
 in the city, and regularly lost his scant earnings where his 
 wealth had gone before. His ragged figure and haggard 
 face appeared as regularly as the dealer at the table. So, 
 a year passed. But if he had forgotten the waiting wife, 
 she had not forgotten him. With infinite toil she at last 
 procured a passage to San Francisco, and was landed with 
 her child penniless upon its wharf. In her sore extremity 
 she told her story to a passing stranger the last man, 
 perhaps, to have met Mr. John Oakhurst, a gambler ! 
 He took her to a hotel, and quietly provided for her im- 
 mediate wants. Two or three evenings after this, the 
 Western man, still playing at the same table, won some 
 trifling stake three times in succession, as if Forttine were 
 about to revisit him. At this moment, Mr. Oakhurst 
 clapped him on the shoulder. "I will give you," he said, 
 quietly, "three thousand dollars for your next play." The 
 man hesitated. "Your wife is at the door," continued 
 Mr. 'Oak hurst sotto voce. "Will you take it? Quick!" 
 The man accepted. But the spirit of the gambler was 
 strong within him, and as Mr. Oakhurst perhaps fully 
 expected, he waited to see the result of the play. Mr. 
 Oakhurst lost ! With a look of gratitude the man turned 
 to Oakhurst and seizing the three thousand dollars hurried 
 a ,va\ , as if fearful he might change his mind. " That was 
 a bad spurt of yours, Jack," said a friend innocently, not
 
 INTRODUCTION xix 
 
 observing the smile that had passed between the dealer and 
 Jack. "Yes," said Jack coolly, "but I got tired of seein' 
 that chap around." "But," said his friend in alarm, 
 "you don't mean to say that you" and he hesitated. 
 :< I mean to say, my dear boy," said Jack, "that this yer 
 little deal was a put-up job betwixt the dealer and me. 
 It 's the first time," he added seriously, with an oath which 
 I think the recording angel instantly passed to Jack's 
 credit, "it's the first time as I ever played a game that 
 wasn't on the square." 
 
 The social life of that day was peculiar. Gentlemen 
 made New Year's calls in long boots and red flannel shirts. 
 In later days the wife of an old pioneer used to show a 
 chair with a hole through its cushion made by a gentleman 
 caller who, sitting down suddenly in bashful confusion, had 
 exploded his revolver. The best-dressed men were gam- 
 blers; the best-dressed ladies had no right to that title. 
 At balls and parties dancing was tabooed, owing to the 
 unhappy complications which arose from the disproportion- 
 ate number of partners to the few ladies that were present. 
 The ingenious device of going through a quadrille with 
 a different partner for each figure sprang from the fertile 
 brain of a sorely beset San Francisco belle. The wife of 
 nn army officer told me that she never thought of return- 
 ing home with the same escort, and not infrequently was 
 accompanied with what she called a "full platoon." "I 
 never knew before," she said, "what they meant by 'the 
 pleasure of your compan//.' " In the multiplicity of such 
 attentions surely there was safety. 
 
 Such was the urban life of the Argonauts its salient 
 peculiarities softened and subdued by the constant accession 
 of strangers from the East and the departure of its own 
 citizens for the interior. As each sxicceeding ocean steamer 
 brought fresh faces from the East, a corresponding change 
 took place in the type and in the manners and morals.
 
 XX INTRODUCTION 
 
 When fine clothes appeared upon the streets and men 
 swore less frequently, people began to put locks on their 
 doors and portable property was no longer out at night. 
 As fine houses were built, real estate rose, and the dwellers 
 in the old tents were pushed from the contiguity of their 
 richer brothers. San Francisco saw herself naked, and 
 was 'ashamed. The old Argonautic brotherhood, with its 
 fierce sincerity, its terrible directness, its pathetic simpli- 
 city, was broken up. Some of the members were content to 
 remain in a Circean palace of material and sensuous delight, 
 but the type was transferred to the mountains, and thither 
 I propose to lead you. 
 
 It is a country unlike any other. Nature here is as 
 rude, as inchoate, as unfinished, as the life. The people 
 seem to have come here a thousand years too soon, and 
 before the great hostess was ready to receive them. The 
 forests, vast, silent, damp with their undergrowth of gigan- 
 tic ferns, recall a remote carboniferous epoch. The trees 
 are monstrous, sombre, and monotonously alike. Every- 
 thing is new, crude, and strange. The grass blades are 
 enormous and far apart, there is no carpet to the soil ; even 
 the few Alpine flowers are odorless and bizarre. There is 
 nothing soft, tendes, or pastoral in the landscape. Nature 
 affects the heroics rather than the bucolics. Theocritus 
 himself could scarcely have given melody to the utterance 
 of these ^Etnean herdsmen, with their brierwood pipes, and 
 their revolvers slung at their backs. There are vast 
 spaces of rock and cliff, long intervals of ravine and canon, 
 and sudden and awful lapses of precipice. The lights and 
 shadows are Kembrandtish, and against this background 
 the faintest outline of a human figure stands out starkly. 
 
 They lived at first in tents, and then in cabins. The 
 climate was gracious, and except for the rudest purposes of 
 shelter from the winter rains, they could have slept out of 
 doors the year round, as many preferred to do. As they
 
 INTRODUCTION xxi 
 
 grew more ambitious, perhaps a small plot of ground was 
 inclosed and cultivated ; but for the first few years they 
 looked upon themselves as tenants at will, and were afraid 
 of putting down anything they could not take away. 
 Chimneys to their cabins were for a long time avoided as 
 having this objectionable feature. Even at this day, de- 
 serted mining-camps are marked by the solitar}' adobe 
 chimneys still left standing where the frame of the original 
 cabin was moved to some newer location. Their house- 
 keeping was of the rudest kind. For many months the 
 frying-pan formed their only available cooking-utensil. It 
 was lashed to the wandering miner's back, like the trouba- 
 dour's guitar. He fried his bread, his beans, his bacon, 
 -md occasionally stewed his coffee, in this single vessel. 
 3ut that ^Nature worked for him with a balsamic air and 
 breezy tonics, he would have succumbed. Happily his 
 meals were few arid infrequent; happily the inventions of 
 his mother East were equal to his needs. His progressive 
 track through these mountain solitudes was marked with 
 tin cans bearing the inscriptions: "Cove Oysters," "Shaker 
 Sweet Corn," "Yeast Powder," "Boston Crackers," and 
 the like. But in the hour of adversity and the moment of 
 perplexity, his main reliance was beans! It was the sole 
 legacy of the Spanish California. The conqueror and the 
 conquered fraternized over their frijoles. 
 
 The Argonaut's dress was peculiar. He was ready if 
 not skillful with his needle, and was fond of patching his 
 clothes until the original material disappeared beneath a 
 cloud of amendments. The flour-sack was his main depen- 
 dence. When its contents had sustained and comforted 
 the inner man, the husk clothed the outer one. Two 
 gentlemen of respectability in earlier days lost their iden- 
 tity in the labels somewhat conspicuously borne on the 
 seats of their trousers, and were known to the camp in all 
 seriousness as "Genesee Mills" and "Eagle Brand." IB
 
 xx ii INTRODUCTION 
 
 the Southern mines a quantity of seamen's clothing, con- 
 demned by the Navy Department and sold at auction, was 
 bought up, and for a year afterwards the sombre woodland 
 shades of Stanislaus and Merced were lightened by the 
 white ducks and blue and white shirts of sailor lands- 
 men. It was odd that the only picturesque bit of color 
 in their dress was accidental, and owing to a careless, lazy 
 custom. Their handkerchiefs of coarse blue, green, or yel- 
 low bandanna were for greater convenience in hot weather 
 knotted at the ends and thrown shawlwise around the 
 shoulders. Against a background of olive foliage, the effect 
 was always striking and kaleidoscopic. The soft felt, 
 broad-brimmed hat, since known as the California hat, was 
 their only head-covering. A tall hat on anybody but a 
 clergyman or a gambler would have justified a blow. 
 
 They were singularly handsome, to a man. Not solely 
 in the muscular development and antique grace acquired 
 through open-air exercise and unrestrained freedom of 
 limb, but often in color, expression, and even softness of 
 outline. They were mainly young men, whose beards were 
 virgin, soft, silken, and curling. They had not always 
 time to cut their hair, and this often swept their shoulders 
 with the lovelocks of Charles II. There were faces that 
 made one think of Delaroche's Saviour. There were dash- 
 ing figures, bold-eyed, jauntily insolent, and cavalierly 
 reckless, that would have delighted Meissonier. Add to 
 this the foreign element of Chilian and Mexican, and you 
 have a combination of form and light and color unknown 
 to any other modern English-speaking community. At 
 sunset on the red mountain road, a Mexican pack-train 
 perhaps slowly winds its way toward the plain. Each 
 animal wears a gayly colored blanket beneath its pack 
 saddle ; the leading mule is musical with bells, and brightly 
 caparisoned; the muleteers wear the national dress, with 
 striped scrape of red and black, deerskin trousers open
 
 INTRODUCTION xxiii 
 
 from the knee, and fringes with bullion buttons, and have 
 on each heel a silver spur with rowels three inches in 
 diameter. If they were thus picturesque in external 
 magnificence, no less romantic were they in expression 
 and character. Their hospitality was barbaric, their gen- 
 erosity spontaneous. Their appreciation of merit always 
 took the form of pecuniary testimonials, whether it was 
 a church and parsonage given to a favorite preacher, or 
 the Danae-like shower of gold they rained upon the pretty 
 person of a popular actress. No mendicant had to beg; a 
 sympathizing bystander took up a subscription in his hat. 
 Their generosity was emulative and cumulative. During 
 the great War of the Rebellion, the millions gathered in 
 the Treasury of the Sanitary Commission had their source 
 in a San Francisco bar-room. "It's mighty rough on 
 those chaps who are wounded," said a casual drinker, 
 "and I 'm sorry for them." "How much are you sorry? ". 
 asked a gambler. "Five hundred dollars," said the first 
 speaker aggressively. "I '11 see that five hundred dollars, 
 and go a thousand better ! " said the gambler, putting 
 down the money. In half an hour fifteen thousand dol- 
 lars was telegraphed to Washington from San Francisco, 
 and this great national charity open to North and South 
 alike, afterwards reinforced by three millions of Califor- 
 nia gold sprang into life. 
 
 In their apparently thoughtless free-handedness there 
 was often a vein of practical sagacity. It is a well-known 
 fact that after the great fire in Sacramento, the first sub- 
 scription to the rebuilding of the Methodist Church came 
 from the hands of a noted gambler. The good pastor, 
 while accepting the gift, could not help asking the giver 
 why he did not keep the money to build another gambling- 
 house. " It would be making things a little monotonous 
 out yer, ole man," responded the gambler gravely, "and 
 \t 's variety that 's wanted for a big town."
 
 xx iv INTRODUCTION 
 
 They were splendidly loyal in their friendships. Per- 
 haps the absence of female society and domestic ties turned 
 the current of their tenderness and sentiment towards each 
 other. To be a man's "partner" signified something more 
 than a common pecuniary or business interest; it was to 
 l>e his friend through good or ill report, in adversity or 
 fortune, to cleave to him and none other to be ever jeal- 
 ous of him ! There were Argonauts who were more faith- 
 ful to their partners than, I fear, they had ever been to 
 their wives; there were partners whom even the grave 
 could not divide who remained solitary and loyal to a 
 dead man's memory. To insult a man's partner was "to 
 insult him ; to step between two partners in a quarrel was, 
 attended with the same danger and uncertainty that in- 
 volves the peacemaker in a conjugal dispute. The heroic 
 possibilities of a Damon and a Pythias were always present ; 
 there were men who had fulfilled all those conditions, and 
 better still without a knowledge or belief that they were 
 classical, with no mythology to lean their backs against, 
 and hardly a conscious appreciation of a later faith that is 
 symbolized by sacrifice. In these unions there were the 
 same odd combinations often seen in the marital relations: 
 a tall and a short man, a delicate sickly youth and a middle- 
 aged man of powerful frame, a grave reticent nature and 
 a spontaneous exuberant one. Yet in spite of these in- 
 congruities there was always the same blind unreasoning 
 fidelity to each other. It is true that their zeal sometimes 
 outran their discretion. There is a story extant that a 
 San Francisco stranger, indulging in some free criticism of 
 religious denominations, suddenly found himself sprawling 
 upon the floor with an irate Kentuckian, revolver in hand, 
 standing over him. When an explanation was demanded 
 by the crowd, the Kentuckian pensively returned his re- 
 volver to his belt. "Well, / ain't got anythin' agin the 
 stranger, but he said somethin' a minit ago agin Quakers,
 
 INTRODUCTION XXT 
 
 and I want him to understand that my pardner is a Quak- 
 er, and a peaceful man ! " 
 
 I should like to give some pictures of their domestic 
 life, but the women were few and the family hearthstones 
 and domestic altars still fewer. Of housewifely virtues the 
 utmost was made; the model spouse invariably kept a 
 boarding-house, and served her husband's guests. In rare 
 cases, the woman who was a crown to her husband took 
 in washing also. 
 
 There was a woman of this class who lived in a little 
 mining-camp in the Sierras. Her husband was a Texan 
 a good-humored giant, who had won the respect of the 
 camp probably quite as much by his amiable weakness as 
 by his great physical power. She was an Eastern woman; 
 had been, I think, a schoolmistress, and had lived in cities 
 up to the time of her marriage and emigration. She was 
 not, perhaps, personally attractive; she was plain and 
 worn beyond her years, and her few personal accomplish- 
 ments a slight knowledge of French and Italian, music, 
 the Latin classification of plants, natural philosophy , and 
 Blair's Rhetoric did not tell upon the masculine inhabi- 
 tants of Ringtail Canon. Yet she was universally loved, 
 and Aunt Ruth, as she was called, or "Old Ma'am Rich- 
 ards," was lifted into an idealization of the aunt, mother, 
 or sister of every miner in the camp. She reciprocated in 
 a thousand kindly ways, mending the clothes, ministering 
 to the sick, and even answering the long home letters of 
 the men. 
 
 Presently she fell ill. Nobody knew exactly what was 
 die matter with her, but she pined slowly away. When 
 the burthen of her household tasks was lifted from her 
 shoulders, she took to long walks, wandering over the hills, 
 and was often seen upon the highest ridge at sunset, look- 
 ing toward the east. Here at last she was found sense- 
 less, the result, it was said, of over exertion, and she
 
 XXvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 was warned to keep her house. So she kept her house, 
 and even went so far as to keep her bed. One day, to 
 everybody's astonishment, she died. "Do you know what 
 they say Ma'am Richards died of ? " said Yuba Bill to his 
 partner. "The doctor says she died of nostalgia," said 
 Bill. "What blank thing is nostalgia ?" asked the other. 
 ''Well, it 's a kind o' longin' to go to heaven! " Perhaps 
 he was right. 
 
 As a general thing the Argonauts were not burthened 
 with sentiment, and were utterly free from its more dan- 
 gerous ally, sentimentalism. They took a sardonic delight 
 in stripping all meretricious finery from their speech; they 
 had a sarcastic fashion of eliminating everything but the 
 facts from poetic or imaginative narrative. With all that 
 terrible directness of statement which was habitual to 
 them, when they indulged in innuendo it was significantly 
 cruel and striking. In the early days, Lynch law pun- 
 ished horse-stealing with death. A man one day was 
 arrested and tried for this offense. After hearing the evi- 
 dence, the jury duly retired to consult upon their verdict. 
 For some reason perhaps from an insufficiency of proof, 
 perhaps from motives of humanity, perhaps because the 
 census was already showing an alarming decrease in the 
 male population the jury showed signs of hesitation. 
 The crowd outside became impatient. After waiting an 
 hour, the ringleader put his head into the room and asked 
 if the jury had settled upon a verdict. "No," said the 
 foreman. "Well," answered the leader, "take your own 
 time, gentlemen; only remember that we're waitin' for 
 this yer room to lay out the corpse in ! " 
 
 Their humor was frequent, although never exuberant or 
 spontaneous, and always contained a certain percentage of 
 rude justice or morality under its sardonic exterior. The 
 only ethical teaching of those days was through a joke or 
 a sarcasm. While camps were moved by an epigram, the
 
 INTRODUCTION xxvii 
 
 rude equity of Judge Lynch was swayed by a witticism. 
 Even their pathos, which was more or less dramatic, partook 
 of this quality. The odd expression, the quaint fancy, or 
 even the grotesque gesture that rippled the surface con- 
 sciousness with a smile, a moment later touched the depths 
 of the heart with a sense of infinite sadness. They indulged 
 sparingly in poetry and illustration, using only its rude, 
 inchoate form of slang. Unlike the meaningless cues and 
 catch-words of an older civilization, their slang was the 
 condensed epigrammatic illustration of some fact, fancy, or 
 perception. Generally it had some significant local deriva- 
 tion. The half-yearly drought brought forward the popu- 
 lar adjuration "dry up" to express the natural climax of 
 evaporated fluency. " Played out " was a reminiscence of 
 the gambling-table, and expressed that hopeless condition 
 of affairs when even the operations of chance are suspended. 
 To " take stock " in any statement, theory, or suggestion 
 indicates a pecuniary degree of trustful credulity. One 
 can hardly call that slang, even though it came from a 
 gambler's lips, which gives such a vivid condensation of 
 death and the reckoning hereafter as was conveyed in the 
 expression, "handing in your checks." In those days the 
 slang was universal; there was no occasion to which it 
 seemed inconsistent. Thomas Starr King once told me 
 that, after delivering a certain controversial sermon, he 
 overheard the following dialogue between a parishioner and 
 his friend. "Well," said the enthusiastic parishioner, 
 referring to the sermon, "what do you think of King 
 now?" "Think of him?" responded the friend, "why, 
 he took every trick ! " 
 
 Sometimes, through the national habit of amusing exag- 
 geration or equally grotesque understatement, certain words 
 acquired a new significance. I remember the first night 
 I spent in Virginia City was at a new hotel which had 
 been but recently opened. After I had got comfortably
 
 XXV iii INTRODUCTION 
 
 to bed, I was aroused by the noise of scuffling and shout- 
 ing below, punctuated by occasional pistol shots. In the 
 morning I made my way to the bar-room, and found the 
 landlord behind his counter with a bruised eye, a piece of 
 court plaster extending from his cheek to his forehead, yet 
 withal a pleasant smile upon his face. Taking my cue 
 from this I said to him : " Well, landlord, you had rather 
 a lively time here last night." "Yes," he replied, pleas- 
 antly. " It was rather a lively time ! " " Do you often 
 have such lively times in Virginia City 1 " I added, embold- 
 ened by his cheerfulness. "Well, no," he said, reflec- 
 tively; "the fact is we've only just opened yer, and last 
 night was about the first time that the boys seemed to be 
 gettin' really acquainted ! " 
 
 The man who objected to join in a bear hunt because 
 "he hadn't lost any bears lately," and the man who 
 replied to the tourist's question " if they grew any corn in 
 that locality" by saying "not a d d bit, in fact scarcely 
 any," offered easy examples of this characteristic anti- 
 climax and exaggeration. Often a flavor of gentle philoso- 
 phy mingled with it. "In course I'd rather not drive a 
 mule team," said a teamster to me. "In course I 'd rather 
 run a bank or be President: but when you 've lived as long 
 as I have, stranger, you '11 find that in this yer world a 
 man don't always get his ' drathers. '" Often a man's 
 trade or occupation lent a graphic power to his speech. 
 On one occasion an engineer was relating to me the par- 
 ticulars of a fellow workman's death by consumption. 
 "Poor Jim," he said, "he got to running slower and 
 slower, until one day he stopped on his centre ! " What 
 a picture of the helpless hitch in this weary human 
 machine! Sometimes the expression was borrowed from 
 another's profession. At one time there was a difficulty 
 in a surveyor's camp between the surveyor and a China, 
 man. "If I was you," said a sympathizing teamster to the
 
 INTRODUCTION xxix 
 
 surveyor, "I 'd jest take that chap and theodolite him out 
 o' camp." Sometimes the slang was a mere echo of the 
 formulas of some popular excitement or movement. Dur- 
 ing a camp-meeting in the mountains, a teamster who had 
 been swearing at his cattle was rebuked for his impiety by 
 a young woman who had just returned from the meeting. 
 " Why, Miss," said the astonished teamster, "you don't 
 call that swearing, do you? Why, you ought to hear 
 Bill Jones exhort the impenitent mule ! " 
 
 But can we entirely forgive the Argonaut for making hh 
 slang gratuitously permanent, for foisting upon posterity, 
 who may forget these extenuating circumstances, such titles 
 as "One Horse Gulch," "Poker Flat," "Greaser Canon," 
 "Fiddletown," "Murderer's Bar," "and "Dead Broke"? 
 The map of California is still ghastly with this unhallowed 
 christening. A tourist may well hesitate to write " Dead 
 Broke," at the top of his letter, and any stranger would be 
 justified in declining an invitation to "Murderer's Bar." 
 It seemed as if the early Californian took a sardonic delight 
 in the contrast which these names offered to the euphony of 
 the old Spanish titles. It is fortunate that with few excep- 
 tions the counties -of the State still bear the soft Castilian 
 labials and gentle vowels. Tuolumne, Tulare, Yolo, Cala- 
 veras, Sonoma, Tehema, Siskyou, and Mendocino, to say 
 nothing of the glorious company of the Apostles who per- 
 petually praise California through the Spanish Catholic 
 calendar. Yet wherever a saint dropped a blessing, some 
 sinner afterwards squatted with an epithet. Extremes 
 often meet. The omnibuses in San Francisco used to run 
 from Happy Valley to the Mission Dolores. You had to 
 go to Blaises first before you could get to Purissima. 
 Yet I think the ferocious directness of these titles was 
 preferable to the pinchbeck elegance of " Copperopolis, " 
 " Argentinia, " the polyglot monstrosities of "Oroville," of 
 s< Placerville, " or the remarkable sentiment of "Komeos-
 
 xxx INTRODUCTION 
 
 burgh " and " Julietstown. " Sometimes the national tend- 
 ency to abbreviation was singularly shown. "Jamestown," 
 near Sonora, was always known as "Jimtown," and 
 " Moquelumne Hill, " after first suffering phonetic torture 
 by being spelt with a "k," was finally drawn and quartered 
 and now appears on the stage-coach as "Mok Hill." There 
 were some names that defied all conjecture. The Pioneer 
 coaches changed horses at a place called "Paradox." Why 
 Paradox 1 No one could tell. 
 
 I wish I could say that the Spaniard fared any better 
 than his language at the hands of the Argonauts. He was 
 called a "Greaser," an unctuous reminiscence of the Mexi- 
 can war, and applied erroneously to the Spanish Califor- 
 nian, who was not a Mexican. The pure blood of Castile 
 ran in his veins. He held his lands sometimes by royal 
 patent of Charles V. He was grave, simple, and confiding. 
 He accepted the Argonaut's irony as sincere, he permitted 
 him to squat on his lands, he allowed him to marry his 
 daughter. He found himself, in a few years, laughed at, 
 landless, and alone. In his sore extremity he entered into 
 a defensive alliance with some of his persecutors, and 
 avenged himself after an extraordinary fashion. In all 
 matters relating to early land grants he was the evergreen 
 witness; his was the only available memory, his the only 
 legal testimony, on the Coast. Perhaps strengthened by 
 this repeated exercise, his memory became one of the most 
 extraordinary, his testimony the most complete and corro- 
 borative, known to human experience. He recalled conver- 
 sations, official orders, and precedents of fifty years ago as 
 if they were matters of yesterday. He produced grants, 
 '/'>< nos, signatures, and letters with promptitude and 
 despatch. He evolved evidence from his inner conscious- 
 ness, and in less than three years Spanish land titles were 
 lost in hopeless confusion and a cloud of witnesses. The 
 wily Argonauts cursed the aptness of their pupil.
 
 INTRODUCTION xxxi 
 
 Socially he clung to his old customs. He had his regu- 
 lar fandango, strummed his guitar, and danced the semi- 
 ciifica. He had his regular Sunday bull-fights after Mass. 
 I Jut the wily Argonaut introduced "breakdowns" in the 
 fandango, substituted the banjo for the guitar, and Bour- 
 bon whiskey for aguardiente. He even went so far as 
 to interfere with the bull - fights, not so much from a 
 sense of moral ethics as with a view to giving the bulls a 
 show. On one or two occasions he substituted a grizzly 
 bear, who not only instantly cleared the arena, but play- 
 fully wiped out the first two rows of benches beyond. He 
 learned horsemanship from the Spaniard and ran off his 
 cattle. 
 
 Yet, before taking leave of the Spanish American, it is 
 well to recall a single figure. It is that of the earliest 
 pioneer known to Californian history. He comes to us 
 toiling over a southern plain an old man, weak, ema- 
 ciated, friendless, and alone. He has left his weary mule- 
 teers and acolytes a league behind him, and has wandered 
 on without scrip or wallet, bearing only a crucifix and a 
 bell. It is a characteristic plain, one that tourists do not 
 usually penetrate : scorched yet bleak, windswept, blasted 
 and baked to its very foundations, and cracked into gaping 
 chasms. As the pitiless sun goes down, the old man stag- 
 gers forward and falls utterly exhausted. He lies there 
 all night. Towards morning he is found by some Indians, 
 a feeble, simple race, who in uncouth kindness offer 
 him food and drink. But before he accepts either, he 
 rises to his knees, and there says matins and baptizes 
 them in the Catholic faith. And then it occurs to him 
 to ask them where he is, and he finds that he has pene- 
 trated into the unknown land. This was Padre Junipero 
 Serra, and the sun arose that morning on Christian Califor- 
 nia. Weighed by the usual estimates of success, his mis- 
 sion was a failure. The heathen stole his provisions and
 
 xxx ii INTRODUCTION 
 
 massacred his acolytes. It is said that the good fathers 
 themselves sometimes confounded baptism and bondage, 
 and laid the foundation of peonage ; but in the bloodstained 
 and tear-blotted chronicle of early California, there is no 
 more heroic figure than the thin, travel- worn, self-centred, 
 self-denying Franciscan friar. 
 
 If I have thus far refrained from eulogizing the virtue,- 
 of another characteristic figure, it is because he came later. 
 The Heathen Chinee was not an Argonaut. But he 
 brought into the Argonaut's new life an odd conservatism. 
 Quiet, calm, almost philosophic, but never obtrusive or 
 aggressive, he never flaunted his three thousand years 
 in the face of the men of to-day ; he never obtruded his 
 extensive mythology before men who were skeptical of 
 even one God. He accepted at once a menial position 
 with dignity and self-respect. He washed for the whole 
 community, and made cleanliness an accessible virtue. 
 He brought patience and novelty into the kitchen ; he 
 brought silence, obedience, and a certain degree of intelli- 
 gence into the whole sphere of domestic service. He stood 
 behind your chair, quiet, attentive, but uncommunicative. 
 He waited upon you at table with the air of the man who, 
 knowing himself superior, could not jeopardize his posi- 
 tion. He worshipped the devil in your household with 
 a frank sincerity and openness that shamed your own 
 covert and feeble attempts in that direction. Although he 
 wore your clothes, spoke your language, and imitated yoiu 
 vices, he was always involved in his own Celestial atmos- 
 phere. He consorted only with his fellows, consumed 
 his own peculiar provisions, bought his goods of the 
 Chinese companies, and when he died, his bones were sent 
 to China! He left no track, trace, or imprint on the civi- 
 lization. He claimed no civil right; he wanted no fran- 
 chise. He took his regular beatings calmly ; he submitted 
 to scandalous extortion from state and individual with
 
 INTRODUCTION xxxiii 
 
 tranquillity ; he bore robbery and even murder with stoical 
 fortitude. Perhaps it was well that he did. Christian 
 civilization, which declared by statute that his testimony 
 was valueless; which intimated by its practice that the 
 same vices in a pagan were worse than in a Christian; 
 which regarded the frailty of his women as being especially 
 abominable and his own gambling propensities as some- 
 thing originally bad, taught him at least the Christian 
 virtues of patience and resignation. 
 
 Did he ever get even with the Christian Argonauts? 
 I am inclined to think that he did. Indeed, in some 
 instances I may say that I know that he did. He had a 
 universal, simple way of defrauding the customs. .He 
 filled the hollows of bamboo chairs with opium, and, sit- 
 ting calmly on them, conversed with dignity with custom- 
 house officials. He made the amplitude of his sleeve and 
 trouser useful as well as ornamental on similar occasions. 
 He evaded the state poll tax by taking the name and 
 assuming the exact facial expression of some brother Celes- 
 tial who had already paid. He turned his skill as a horti- 
 culturist to sinful account by investing rose bushes with 
 imitations of that flower made out of carrots and turnips. 
 He acquired^ Latin and Greek with peculative rather than 
 scholastic intent, and borrowed fifty dollars from a Cali- 
 fornian clergyman while he soothed his ear with the 
 Homeric accents. But perhaps his most successful attempt 
 at balancing his account with a Christian civilization was 
 his career as a physician. 
 
 One day he opened a doctor's office in San Francisco. 
 By the aid of clever confederates, miraculous cures were 
 trumpeted through the land, until people began to flock 
 to his healing ministration. His doorways were beset 
 by an army of invalids. Two interpreters, like the angels 
 in the old legend, listened night and day to the ills told 
 by the people that crowded this Hygeian temple. They
 
 xxx iv INTRODUCTION 
 
 translated into the common tongue the words of wisdom 
 that fell from the oracular lips of this slant-eyed Apollo. 
 Doctor Lipotai was eminently successful. Presently, how- 
 ever, there were Chinese doctors on every corner. A sign 
 with the proper monosyllables, a pigtail and an interpreter, 
 were the only stock in trade required. The pagan knew 
 that no one would stop to reason. The ignorant heathen 
 was aware that no one would stop to consider what superior 
 opportunities the Chinese had for medical knowledge over 
 the practitioners of his own land. This debased old idolater 
 knew that these intelligent Christians would think that it 
 might be magic, and so would come. And they did come. 
 And he gave them green tea for tubercular consumption, 
 ginger for aneurism, and made them smell punk for dropsy. 
 The treatment was harmless, but wearisome. Suddenly, 
 a well known Oriental scholar published a list of the reme- 
 dies ordinarily used in the Chinese medical practice. I 
 regret to say that for obvious reasons I cannot repeat the 
 unsavory list here. It was enough, however, to produce 
 the ordinary symptoms of sea-sickness among the doctor's 
 patients. The celestial star at once began to wane. The 
 oracle ceased to be questioned. The sibyls got off their 
 tripods. And Doctor Lipotai, with a half million in his 
 pocket, returned to his native rice and the na'ive simplicity 
 of Chinese Camp. 
 
 And with this receding figure bringing up the rear of 
 the procession, I close my review of the Argonauts of '49. 
 In their rank and file there may be many who are person- 
 ally known to some of my hearers. There may be gaps 
 which the memory of others can supply. There are 
 homes all over the world whose vacant places never can be 
 filled ; there are graves all over California on whose name- 
 less mounds no one shall weep. I have said that it is not 
 a pretty story. I should like to end it with a nourish of 
 trumpets, but the band has gone on before, and the dust
 
 INTRODUCTION xx A v 
 
 of the highway is beginning to hide them from my view. 
 They are marching on to their city by the sea to that 
 great lodestone hill that Sindbad saw, which they call 
 "Lone Mountain." There, waiting at its base, one may 
 fancy the Argo is still lying, and that when the last Argo- 
 naut shall have passed in, she too will spread her white 
 wings and slip unnoticed through the Golden Gate that 
 opens in the distance.
 
 TALES OF THE ARGONAUTS 
 
 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 
 
 BEFORE nine o'clock it was pretty well known all along 
 the river that the two parties of the " Amity Claim " had 
 quarreled and separated at daybreak. At that time the 
 attention of their nearest neighbor had been attracted by 
 the sounds of altercations and two consecutive pistol-shots. 
 Running out, he had seen dimly in the gray mist that rose 
 from the river the tall form of Scott, one of the partners, 
 descending the hill toward the canon ; a moment later, 
 York, the other partner, had appeared from the cabin, and 
 walked in an opposite direction toward the river, passing 
 within a few feet of the curious watcher. Later it was dis- 
 covered that a serious Chinaman, cutting wood before the 
 cabin, had witnessed part of the quarrel. But John was 
 stolid, indifferent, and reticent. " Me choppee wood, me 
 no fightee," was his serene response to all anxious queries. 
 " But what did they say, John ? " John did not sale. 
 Colonel Starbottle deftly ran over the various popular 
 epithets which a generous public sentiment might accept as 
 reasonable provocation for an assault. But John did not 
 recognize them. " And this yer 's the cattle," said the 
 Colonel, with some severity, " that some thinks oughter 
 be allowed to testify agin a White Man ! Git you hea- 
 then ! " 
 
 Still the quarrel remained inexplicable. That two men,
 
 2 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 
 
 whose amiability and grave tact had earned for them the 
 title of " The Peacemakers," in a community not greatly 
 given to the passive virtues, that these men, singularly 
 devoted to each other, should suddenly and violently quar- 
 rel, might well excite the curiosity of the camp. A few of 
 the more inquisitive visited the late scene of conflict, now 
 deserted by its former occupants. There was no trace of 
 disorder or confusion in the neat cabin. The rude table 
 was arranged as if for breakfast ; the pan of yellow biscuit 
 still sat upon that hearth whose dead embers might have 
 typified the evil passions that had raged there but an hour 
 before. But Colonel Starbottle's eye, albeit somewhat 
 bloodshot and rheumy, was more intent on practical details. 
 On examination, a bullet-hole was found in the doorpost, 
 and another nearly opposite in the casing of the window. 
 The Colonel called attention to the fact that the one 
 " agreed with " the bore of Scott's revolver, and the other 
 with that of York's derringer. " They must hev stood 
 about yer," said the Colonel, taking position ; " not more'n 
 three feet apart, and missed ! " There was a fine touch 
 of pathos in the falling inflection of the Colonel's voice, 
 which was not without effect. A delicate perception of 
 wasted opportunity thrilled his auditors. 
 
 But the Bar was destined to experience a greater dis- 
 appointment. The two antagonists had not met since the 
 quarrel, and it was vaguely rumored that, on the occasion 
 of a second meeting, each had determined to kill the other 
 " on sight." There was, consequently, some excitement 
 and, it is to be feared, no little gratification when, at ten 
 o'clock, York stepped from the Magnolia Saloon into the 
 one long straggling street of the camp, at the same moment 
 that Scott left the blacksmith's shop at the forks of the 
 road. It was evident, at a glance, that a meeting could 
 only be avoided by the actual retreat of one or the other. 
 
 In an instant the doors and windows of the adjacent
 
 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 3 
 
 saloons were filled with faces. Heads unaccountably ap- 
 peared above the river banks and from behind boulders. 
 An empty wagon at the cross-road was suddenly crowded 
 with people, who seemed to have sprung from the earth. 
 There was much running and confusion on the hillside. 
 On the mountain-road, Mr. Jack Hamlin had reined up his 
 horse and was standing upright on the seat of his buggy. 
 And the two objects of this absorbing attention approached 
 each other. 
 
 " York 's got the sun," " Scott '11 line him on that tree," 
 " He 's waiting to draw his fire," came from the cart ; and 
 then it was silent. But above this human breathlessness 
 the river rushed and sang, and the wind rustled the tree- 
 tops with an indifference that seemed obtrusive. Colonel 
 Starbottle felt it, and in a moment of sublime preoccupa- 
 tion, without looking around, waved his cane behind him 
 warningly to all Nature, and said, " Shu ! " 
 
 The men were now within a few feet of each other. A 
 hen ran across the road before one of them. A feathery 
 seed vessel, wafted from a wayside tree, fell at the feet of 
 the other. And, unheeding this irony of Nature, the two 
 opponents came nearer, erect and rigid, looked in each 
 other's eyes, and passed ! 
 
 Colonel Starbottle had to be lifted from the cart. " This 
 yer camp is played out," he said gloomily, as he affected to 
 be supported into the Magnolia. With what further expres- 
 sion he might have indicated his feelings it was impossible 
 to say, for at that moment Scott joined the group. " Did 
 you speak to me ? " he asked of the Colonel, dropping his 
 hand, as if with accidental familiarity, on that gentleman's 
 shoulder. The Colonel, recognizing some occult quality in 
 the touch, and some unknown quantity .in the glance of his 
 questioner, contented himself by replying, " No, sir," with 
 dignity. A few rods away, York's conduct was as charac- 
 teristic and peculiar. "You had a mighty fine chance,-
 
 4 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 
 
 why did n't you plump him ? " said Jack Hamlin, as York 
 drew near the buggy. " Because I hate him," was the 
 reply, heard only by Jack. Contrary to popular belief, 
 this reply was not hissed between the lips of the speaker, 
 but was said in an ordinary tone. But Jack Hamlin, who 
 was an observer of mankind, noticed that the speaker's 
 hands were cold and his lips dry, as he helped him into the 
 buggy, and accepted the seeming paradox with a smile. 
 
 When Sandy Bar became convinced that the quarrel 
 between York and Scott could not be settled after the usual 
 local methods, it gave no further concern thereto. But 
 presently it was rumored that the "Amity Claim " was in 
 litigation, and that its possession would be expensively dis- 
 puted by each of the partners. As it was well known that 
 vhe claim in question was " worked out " and worthless, and 
 that the partners whom it had already enriched had talked 
 of abandoning it but a day or two before the quarrel, this 
 proceeding could only be accounted for as gratuitous spite. 
 Later, two San Francisco lawyers made their appearance in 
 this guileless Arcadia, and were eventually taken into the 
 saloons, and what was pretty much the same thing the 
 confidences of the inhabitants. The results of this unhal- 
 lowed intimacy were many subpoenas ; and, indeed, when 
 the " Amity Claim " came to trial, all of Sandy Bar that 
 was not in compulsory attendance at the county seat came 
 there from curiosity. The gulches and ditches for miles 
 around were deserted. I do not propose to describe that 
 already famous trial. Enough that, in the language of the 
 plaintiffs counsel, " it was one of no ordinary significance, 
 involving the inherent rights of that untiring industry 
 which had developed the Pactolian resources of this golden 
 land ; " and, in the, homelier phrase of Colonel Starbottle, 
 " a fuss that gentlemen might hev settled in ten minutes 
 over a social glass, ef they meant business; or in ten 
 seconds with a revolver, ef they meant fun." Scott got a
 
 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 5 
 
 verdict, from which York instantly appealed. It was said 
 that he had sworn to spend his last dollar in the struggle. 
 
 In this way Sandy Bar began to accept the enmity of the 
 former partners as a lifelong feud, and the fact that they 
 had ever been friends was forgotten. The few who expected 
 to learn from the trial the origin of the quarrel were dis- 
 appointed. Among the various conjectures, that which 
 ascribed some occult feminine influence as the cause was 
 naturally popular in a camp given to dubious compliment 
 of the sex. " My word for it, gentlemen," said Colonel 
 Starbottle, who had been known in Sacramento as a Gentle- 
 man of the Old School, " there 's some lovely creature at 
 the bottom of this." The gallant Colonel then proceeded 
 to illustrate his theory by divers sprightly stories, such as 
 Gentlemen of the Old School are in the habit of repeating, 
 but which, from deference to the prejudices of gentlemen 
 of a more recent school, I refrain from transcribing here. 
 But it would appear that even the Colonel's theory was 
 fallacious. The only woman who personally might have 
 exercised any influence over the partners was the pretty 
 daughter of " old man Folinsbee," of Poverty Flat, at 
 whose hospitable house which exhibited some comforts 
 and refinements rare in that crude civilization both York 
 and Scott were frequent visitors. Yet into this charming 
 retreat York strode one evening a month after the quarrel, 
 and, beholding Scott sitting there, turned to the fair hostess 
 with the abrupt query, " Do you love this man ? " The 
 young woman thus addressed returned that answer at 
 once spirited and evasive which would occur to most of 
 my fair readers in such an emergency. Without another 
 word, York left the house. " Miss Jo " heaved the least 
 possible sigh as the door closed on York's curls and square 
 shoulders, and then, like a good girl, turned to her insulted 
 guest. " But would you believe it, dear ? " she afterwards 
 related to an intimate friend, "the other creature, afte-
 
 6 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 
 
 glowering at me for a moment, got upon its hind legs, 
 took its hat, and left too ; and that 's the last I 've seen oi 
 either." 
 
 The same hard disregard of all other interests or feelings 
 in the gratification of their blind rancor characterized all 
 their actions. When York purchased the land below Scott's 
 new claim, and obliged the latter, at a great expense, to 
 make a long detour to carry a " tail-race " around it, Scott 
 retaliated by building a dam that overflowed York's claim 
 on the river. It was Scott who, in conjunction with Colonel 
 Starbottle, first organized that active opposition to the China- 
 men which resulted in the driving off of York's Mongolian 
 laborers ; it was York who built the wagon-road and estab- 
 lished the express which rendered Scott's mules and pack- 
 trains obsolete ; it was Scott who called into life the Vigi- 
 lance Committee which expatriated York's friend, Jack 
 Hamlin ; it was York who created the " Sandy Bar Her- 
 ald," which characterized the act as " a lawless outrage " 
 and Scott as a " Border Kuffian ; " it was Scott, at the head 
 of twenty masked men, who, one moonlight night, threw the 
 offending " forms " into the yellow river, and scattered the 
 types in the dusty road. These proceedings were received 
 in the distant and more civilized outlying towns as vague 
 indications of progress and vitality. I have before me a 
 copy of the " Poverty Plat Pioneer " for the week ending 
 August 12, 1856, in which the editor, under the head of 
 "County Improvements," says: "The new Presbyterian 
 Church on C Street, at Sandy Bar, is- completed. It stands 
 upon the lot formerly occupied by the Magnolia Saloon, 
 which was so mysteriously burnt last month. The temple, 
 which now rises like a Phoenix from the ashes of the Mag- 
 nolia, is virtually the free gift of. H. J. York, Esq., of 
 Sandy Bar, who purchased the lot and donated the lumber. 
 Other buildings are going up in the vicinity, but the most 
 noticeable is the ' Sunny South Saloon,' erected by Captain
 
 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 7 
 
 Mat. Scott, nearly opposite the church. Captain Scott has 
 spared no expense in the furnishing of this saloon, which 
 promises to be one of the most agreeable places of resort 
 in old Tuolumne. He has recently imported two new first- 
 class billiard-tables with cork cushions. Our old friend, 
 ' Mountain Jimmy,' will dispense liquors at the bar. We 
 refer our readers to the advertisement in another column. 
 Visitors to Sandy Bar cannot do better than give ( Jimmy ' 
 a call." Among the local items occurred the following : 
 " H. J. York, Esq., of Sandy Bar, has offered a reward of 
 $100 for the detection .of the parties who hauled away the 
 steps of the new Presbyterian Church, C Street, Sandy Bar, 
 during divine service on Sabbath evening last. Captain 
 Scott adds another hundred for the capture of the mis- 
 creants who broke the magnificent plate-glass windows of 
 the new saloon on the following evening. There is some 
 talk of reorganizing the old Vigilance Committee at Sandy 
 Bar." 
 
 When, for many months of cloudless weather, the hard, 
 unwinking sun of Sandy Bar had regularly gone down on 
 the unpacified wrath of these men, there was some talk of 
 mediation. In particular, the pastor of the church to which 
 I have just referred a sincere, fearless, but perhaps not 
 fully enlightened man seized gladly upon the occasion of 
 York's liberality to attempt to reunite the former partners. 
 He preached an earnest sermon on the abstract sinfulness of 
 discord and rancor. But the excellent sermons of the Rev. 
 Mr. Daws were directed to an ideal congregation that did 
 not exist at Sandy Bar, a congregation of beings of un- 
 mixed vices and virtues, of single impulses, and perfectly 
 logical motives, of preternatural simplicity, of childlike 
 faith, and grown-up responsibilities. As unfortunately the 
 people who actually attended Mr. Daws's church were mainly 
 very human, somewhat artful, more self -excusing than 
 self -accusing, rather good-natured, and decidedly weak, they
 
 8 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAB 
 
 quietly shed that portion of the sermon which referred to 
 themselves, and accepting York and Scott who were 
 both in defiant attendance as curious examples of those 
 ideal beings above referred to, felt a certain satisfaction 
 which, I fear, was not altogether Christian-like in their 
 " raking-down." If Mr. Daws expected York and Scott to 
 shake hands after the sermon, he was disappointed. But 
 he did not relax his purpose. With that quiet fearlessness 
 and determination which had won for him the respect of 
 men who were too apt to regard piety as synonymous with 
 effeminacy, he attacked Scott in his own house. What he 
 said has not been recorded, but it is to be feared that it was 
 part of his sermon. When he had concluded, Scott looked 
 at him, not unkindly, over the glasses of his bar, and said, 
 less irreverently than the words might convey, " Young 
 man, I rather like your style ; but when you know York 
 and me as well as you do God Almighty, it '11 be time to 
 talk." 
 
 And so the feud progressed ; and so, as in more illus- 
 trious examples, the private and personal enmity of two 
 representative men led gradually to the evolution of some 
 crude, half-expressed principle or belief. It was not long 
 before it was made evident that those beliefs were identical 
 with certain broad principles laid down by the founders of 
 the American Constitution, as expounded by the statesmanlike 
 A., or were the fatal quicksands on which the ship of state 
 might be wrecked, warningly pointed out by the eloquent 
 B. The practical result of all which was the nomination of 
 York and Scott to represent the opposite factions of Sandy 
 Bar in legislative councils. 
 
 For some weeks past the voters of Sandy Bar and the 
 adjacent camps had been called upon, in large type, to 
 " RALLY ! " In vain the great pines at the cross-roads 
 whose trunks were compelled to bear this and other legends
 
 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 9 
 
 moaned and protested from their windy watch-towers. 
 But one day. with fife and drum and flaming transparency, 
 a procession filed into the triangular grove at the head of 
 the gulch. The meeting was called to order by Colonel 
 Starbottle, who, having once enjoyed legislative functions, 
 ttnd being vaguely known as " war-horse," was considered to 
 oe a valuable partisan of York. He concluded an appeal 
 for his friend with an enunciation of principles, interspersed 
 with one or two anecdotes so gratuitously coarse that the 
 very pines might have been moved to pelt him with their 
 cast-off cones as he stood there. But he created a laugh, on 
 which his candidate rode into popular notice ; and when 
 York rose to speak, he was greeted with cheers. But, to 
 the general astonishment, the new speaker at once launched 
 into bitter denunciation of his rival. He not only dwelt 
 upon Scott's deeds and example as known to Sandy Bar, 
 but spoke of facts connected with his previous career 
 hitherto unknown to his auditors. To great precision of 
 epithet and directness of statement, the speaker added the 
 fascination of revelation and exposure. The crowd cheered, 
 yelled, and were delighted ; but when this astounding 
 philippic was concluded, there was a unanimous call for 
 " Scott ! " Colonel Starbottle would have resisted this 
 manifest impropriety, but in vain. Partly from a crude 
 sense of justice, partly from a meaner craving for excitement, 
 the assemblage was inflexible ; and Scott was dragged, 
 pushed, and pulled upon the platform; As his frowsy head 
 and unkempt beard appeared above the railing, it was 
 evident that he was drunk. But it was also evident, before 
 he opened his lips, that the orator of Sandy Bar the one 
 man who could touch their vagabond sympathies (perhaps 
 because he was not above appealing to them) stood before 
 them. A consciousness of this power lent a certain dignity 
 to his figure, .and I am not sure but that his very phy- 
 sical condition impress?" 1 *hem as a kind of regal unberdinp
 
 JO THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 
 
 and large condescension. Howbeit, when this unexpected 
 Hector arose from this ditch, York's myrmidons trembled. 
 " There 's naught, gentlemen," said Scott, leaning forward 
 on the railing, " there 's naught as that man hez said as 
 is n't true. I was run outer Cairo ; I did belong to the 
 Regulators; I did desert from the army; I did leave a 
 wife in Kansas. But thar's one thing he didn't charge 
 me with, and maybe he 's forgotten. For three years, 
 gentlemen, I was that man's pardner ! " Whether he 
 intended to say more, I cannot tell ; a burst of applause 
 artistically rounded and enforced the climax, and virtually 
 elected the speaker. That fall he went to Sacramento, 
 York went abroad, and for the first time in many years 
 distance and a new atmosphere isolated the old antagonists. 
 
 With little of change in the green wood, gray rock, and 
 yellow river, but with much shifting of human landmarks 
 and new faces in its habitations, three years passed over 
 Sandy Bar. The two men, once so identified with its 
 character, seemed to have been quite forgotten. " You 
 will never return to Sandy Bar," said Miss Folinsbee, the 
 " Lily of Poverty Flat," on meeting York in Paris, " for 
 Sandy Bar is no more. They call it Kiverside now ; and 
 the new town is built higher up on the river bank. By the 
 bye, ' Jo ' says that Scott has won his suit about the ' Amity 
 Claim/ and that he lives in the old cabin, and is drunk half 
 his time. Oh, I beg your pardon," added the lively lady, 
 as a flush crossed York's sallow cheek ; " but, bless me, I 
 really thought that old grudge was made up. I 'm sure it 
 ought to be." 
 
 It was three months after this conversation, and a pleasant 
 summer evening, that the Poverty Flat coach drew up be- 
 fore the veranda of the Union Hotel at Sandy Bar. Among 
 its passengers was one, apparently a stranger, in the local 
 distinction of well-fitting clothes and closely shaven face, 
 who demanded a private room and retired early to rest
 
 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 11 
 
 But before sunrise next morning he arose, and, drawing 
 some clothes from his carpet-bag, proceeded to array himself 
 in a pair of white duck trousers, a white duck overshirt, 
 and straw hat. When his toilet was completed, he tied a 
 red bandana handkerchief in a loop and threw it loosely 
 over his shoulders. The transformation was complete. As 
 he crept softly down the stairs and stepped into the road, 
 no one would have detected in him the elegant stranger of 
 the previous night, and but few have recognized the face 
 and figure of Henry York, of Sandy Bar. 
 
 In the uncertain light of that early hour, and in the 
 change that had come over the settlement, he had to pause 
 for a moment to recall where he stood. The Sandy Bar of 
 his recollection lay below him, nearer the river ; the build- 
 ings around him were of later date and newer fashion. As 
 he strode toward the river, he noticed here a schoolhouse 
 and there a church. A little farther on, the " Sunny 
 South" came in view, transformed into a restaurant, its 
 gilding faded and its paint rubbed off. He now knew 
 where he was; and running briskly down a declivity, 
 crossed a ditch, and stood upon the lower boundary of the 
 " Amity Claim." 
 
 The gray mist was rising slowly from the river, clinging 
 to the tree-tops and drifting up the mountain-side until it 
 was caught among these rocky altars, and held a sacrifice to 
 the ascending sun. At his feet the earth, cruelly gashed 
 and scarred by his forgotten engines, had, since the old 
 days, put on a show of greenness here and there, and now 
 smiled forgivingly tip at him, as if things were not so bad 
 after all. A few birds were bathing in the ditch with a 
 pleasant suggestion of its being a new and special provision 
 of Nature, and a hare ran into an inverted sluice-box as he 
 approached, as if it were put there for that purpose. 
 
 He had not yet dared to look in a certain direction. 
 But the sun was now high enough to paint the little emi-
 
 12 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 
 
 nence on which the cabin stood. In spite of his self-control, 
 his heart beat faster as he raised his eyes toward it. Its 
 window and door were closed, no smoke came from its adobe 
 chimney, but it was else unchanged. When within a few 
 yards of it, he picked up a broken shovel, and shouldering 
 it with a smile, he strode toward the door and knocked. 
 There was no sound from within. The smile died upon his 
 lips as he nervously pushed the door open. 
 
 A figure started up angrily and came toward him, a 
 figure whose bloodshot eyes suddenly fixed into a vacant 
 stare, whose arms were at first outstretched and then thrown 
 up in warning gesticulation, a figure that suddenly gasped, 
 choked, and then fell forward in a fit. 
 
 But before he touched the ground, York had him out 
 into the open air and sunshine. In the struggle, both fell 
 and rolled over on the ground. But the next moment York 
 was sitting up, holding the convulsed frame of his former 
 partner on his knee, and wiping the foam from his inarticu- 
 late lips. Gradually the tremor became less frequent and 
 then ceased, and the strong man lay unconscious in his 
 arms. 
 
 For some moments York held him quietly thus, looking 
 in his face. Afar, the stroke of a woodman's axe a mere 
 phantom of sound was all that broke the stillness. High 
 up the mountain, a wheeling hawk hung breathlessly above 
 them. And then came voices, and two men joined them. 
 
 " A fight ? " No, a fit ; and would they help him bring 
 the sick man to the hotel ? 
 
 And there for a week the stricken partner lay, uncon- 
 scious of aught but the visions wrought by disease and fear. 
 On the eighth day at sunrise he rallied, and opening his 
 eyes, looked upon York and pressed his hand ; and then he 
 spoke : 
 
 "And it 's you. I thought it was only whiskey." 
 
 York replied by only taking both of his hands, boyishly
 
 THE ILIAD OF SANDY BAR 13 
 
 working them backward and forward, as his elbow rested on 
 the bed, witli a pleasant smile. 
 
 " And you 've been abroad. How did you like Paris ? " 
 
 " So, so ! How did you like Sacramento ? " 
 
 il Bully ! " 
 
 And that was all they could think to say. Presently 
 Scott opened his eyes again. 
 
 11 1 'm mighty weak." 
 
 " You '11 get better soon." 
 
 "Xot much." 
 
 A long silence followed, in which they could hear the 
 sounds of wood-chopping, and that Sandy Bar was already 
 astir for the coming day. Then Scott slowly and with 
 difficulty turned his face to York and said, 
 
 " I might hev killed you once." 
 
 " I wish you had." 
 
 They pressed each other's hands again, but Scott's grasp 
 was evidently failing. He seemed to summon his energies 
 for a special effort. 
 
 " Old man ! " 
 
 " Old chap." 
 
 " Closer ! " 
 
 York bent his head toward the slowly fading face. 
 
 " Do ye mind that morning ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 A gleam of fun slid into the corner of Scott's blue eye as 
 he whispered, 
 
 " Old man, thar was too much saleratus in that bread ! " 
 
 It is said that these were his last words. For when the 
 sun, which had so often gone down upon the idle wrath 
 of these foolish men, looked again upon them reunited, it 
 saw the hand of Scott fall cold and irresponsive from the 
 yearning clasp of his former partner, and it knew that the 
 feud of Sandy Bar was at an end.
 
 ME. THOMPSON'S PKODIGAL 
 
 WE all knew that Mr. Thompson was looking for his 
 on, and a pretty bad one at that. That he was coming to 
 California for this sole object was no secret to his fellow- 
 passengers ; and the physical peculiarities as well as the 
 moral weaknesses of the missing prodigal were made equally 
 plain to us through the frank volubility of the parent. 
 " You was speaking of a young man which was hung at Red 
 Dog for sluice-robbing," said Mr. Thompson to a steerage 
 passenger one day ; " be you aware of the color of his eyes ? " 
 Black," responded the passenger. " Ah ! " said Mr. 
 Thompson, referring to some mental memoranda, " Char-les's 
 eyes was blue." He then walked away. Perhaps it was 
 from this unsympathetic mode of inquiry, perhaps it was 
 from that AVestern predilection to take a humorous view of 
 any principle or sentiment persistently brought before them, 
 that Mr. Thompson's quest was the subject of some satire 
 among the passengers. A gratuitous advertisement of the 
 missing Charles, addressed to "Jailers and Guardians," 
 circulated privately among them ; everybody remembered to 
 have met Charles under distressing circumstances. Yet it 
 is but due to my countrymen to state that when it was known 
 that Thompson had embarked seme wealth in this visionary 
 project, but little of this satire found its way to his ears, 
 and nothing was uttered in his hearing that might bring a 
 pang to a father's heart or imperil a possible pecuniary ad- 
 vantage of the satirist. Indeed, Mr. Bracy Tibbets' jocular 
 proposition to form a joint-stock company to " prospect " for 
 the missing youth received at one time quite serious enter- 
 tainment.
 
 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL 15 
 
 Perhaps to superficial criticism Mr. Thompson's nature 
 was not picturesque nor lovable. His history, as imparted 
 at dinner one day by himself, was practical even in its 
 singularity. After a hard and willful youth and maturity, 
 in which he had buried a broken-spirited wife and driven 
 his son to sea, he suddenly experienced religion. " I got 
 it in New Orleans in '59," said Mr. Thompson, with the 
 general suggestion of referring to an epidemic. " Enter ye 
 the narrer gate. Parse me the beans." Perhaps this prac- 
 tical quality upheld him in his apparently hopeless search. 
 He had no clue to the whereabouts of his runaway son ; 
 indeed, scarcely a proof of his present existence. From his 
 indifferent recollection of the boy of twelve he now expected 
 to identify the man of twenty-five. 
 
 It would seem that he was successful. How he succeeded 
 was one of the few things he did not tell. There are, I 
 believe, two versions of the story. One, that Mr. Thompson, 
 visiting a hospital, discovered his son by reason of a peculiar 
 hymn, chanted by the sufferer in a delirious dream of his 
 boyhood. This version, giving as it did wide range to the 
 finer feelings of the heart, was quite popular ; and as told 
 by the Rev. Mr. Gushington on his return from his Cali- 
 fornia tour, never failed to satisfy an audience. The other 
 was less simple, and, as I shall adopt it here, deserves more 
 elaboration. 
 
 It was after Mr. Thompson had given up searching for 
 his son among the living, and had taken to the examination 
 of cemeteries and a careful inspection of the " cold hie 
 jacets of the dead." At this time he was a frequent visi- 
 tor of " Lone Mountain," a dreary hill-top, bleak enough 
 in its original isolation, and bleaker for the white-faced 
 marbles by which San Francisco anchored her departed 
 citizens, and kept them down in a shifting sand that refused 
 to cover them, and against a fierce and persistent wind that 
 strove to blow them utterly away. Against this wind the
 
 16 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL 
 
 old man opposed a will quite as persistent, a grizzled hard 
 face, and a tall crape-bound hat drawn tightly over his eyes, 
 
 and so spent days in reading the mortuary inscriptions 
 
 audibly to himself. The frequency of Scriptural quotation 
 pleased him, and he was fond of corroborating them by a 
 pocket Bible. " That 's from Psalms," he said one day to 
 an adjacent gravedigger. The man made no reply. Not 
 at all rebuffed, Mr. Thompson at once slid down into the 
 open grave with a more practical inquiry, " Did you ever, 
 in your profession, come across Char-les Thompson ? " 
 "Thompson be d d!^' said the gravedigger, with great 
 directness. " Which, if he had n't religion, I think he is,'' 
 responded the old man, as he clambered out of the grave. 
 
 It was perhaps on this occasion that Mr. Thompson 
 stayed later than usual. As he turned his face toward the 
 city, lights were beginning to twinkle ahead, and a fierce 
 wind, made visible by fog, drove him forward, or, lying in 
 wait, charged him angrily from the corners of deserted sub- 
 urban streets. It was at one of these corners that something 
 else, quite as indistinct and malevolent, leaped upon him 
 with an oath, a presented pistol, and a demand for money. 
 But it was met by a will of iron and a grip of steel. The 
 assailant and assailed rolled together on the ground. But 
 the next moment the old man was erect ; one hand grasp- 
 ing the captured pistol, the other clutching at arm's length 
 the throat of a figure, surly, youthful, and savage. 
 
 " Young man," said Mr. Thompson, setting his thin lips 
 together, " what might be your name ? " 
 
 " Thompson ! " 
 
 The old man's hand slid from the throat to the arm of 
 his prisoner without relaxing its firmness. 
 
 " Char-les Thompson, come with me," he said presently, 
 and marched his captive to the hotel. What took place 
 there has not transpired, but it was known the next morn 
 ing that Mr. Thompson had found his son.
 
 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL 17 
 
 It is proper to add to the above improbable story, that 
 there was nothing in the young man's appearance or man- 
 ners to justify it. Grave, reticent, and handsome, devoted 
 to his newly found parent, he assumed the emoluments and 
 responsibilities of his new condition with a certain serious 
 ease that more nearly approached that which San Francisco 
 society lacked and rejected. Some chose to despise this 
 quality as a tendency to " psalm singing ; " others saw in 
 it the inherited qualities of the parent, and were ready to 
 prophesy for the son the same hard old age. But all agreed 
 that it was not inconsistent with the habits of money- 
 getting for which father and son were respected. 
 
 And yet the old man did not seem to be happy. Per- 
 haps it was that the consummation of his wishes left him 
 without a practical mission ; perhaps and it is the more 
 probable he had little love for the son he had regained. 
 The obedience he exacted was freely given, the reform he 
 had set his heart upon was complete ; and yet somehow it 
 did not seem to please him. In reclaiming his son he had 
 fulfilled all the requirements that his religious duty required 
 of him, and yet the act seemed to lack sanctification. In 
 this perplexity he read again the parable of the Prodigal 
 Son, which he had long ago adopted for his guidance, and 
 found that he had omitted the final feast of reconciliation. 
 This seemed to offer the proper quality of ceremoniousness 
 in the sacrament between himself and his son and so, a vear 
 after the appearance of Charles, he set about giving him a 
 party. "Invite everybody, Char-les," he said dryly ; 
 " everybody who knows that I brought you out of the swine- 
 husks of iniquity and the company of harlots, and bid them 
 eat, drink, and be merry." 
 
 Perhaps the old man had another reason, not yet clearly 
 analyzed. The. fine house he had built on the sandhills 
 sometimes seemed lonely and bare. He often found him- 
 self trying to reconstruct, from the grave features c.f Charles,
 
 18 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL 
 
 the little boy whom he but dimly remembered in the past, 
 and of whom lately he had been thinking a great deal 
 He believed this to be a sign of impending old age and 
 childishness ; but coming one day, in his formal drawing- 
 room, upon a child of one of the servants, who had strayed 
 therein, he would have taken him in his arms, but the child 
 fled from before his grizzled face. So that it seemed emi- 
 nently proper to invite a number of people to his house, 
 and from the array of San Francisco maidenhood to select 
 a daughter-in-law. And then there would be a child a 
 bov, whom he could " rare up " from the beginning, and 
 love as he did not love Charles. 
 
 We were all at the party. The Smiths, Joneses, Browns, 
 and Robinsons also came, in that fine flow of animal spirits. 
 unchecked by any respect for the entertainer, which most 
 of us are apt to find so fascinating. The proceedings would 
 have been somewhat riotous but for the social position of 
 the actors. In fact, Mr. Bracy Tibbets, having naturally 
 a fine appreciation of a humorous situation, but further 
 impelled by the bright eyes of the Jones girls, conducted 
 himself so remarkably as to attract the serious regard of Mr. 
 Charles Thompson, who approached him, saying quietly, 
 " You look ill, Mr. Tibbets ; let me conduct you to your 
 carriage. Eesist, you hound, and I '11 throw you through 
 the window. This way, please ; the room is close and dis- 
 tressing." It is hardly necessary to say that but a part of 
 this speech was audible to the company, and that the rest 
 was not divulged by Mr. Tibbets, who afterwards regretted 
 the sudden illness which kept him from witnessing a certain 
 amusing incident, which the fastest Miss Jones characterized 
 as the " richest part of the blow-out," and which I hasten 
 to record. 
 
 It was at supper. It was evident that Mr. Thompson 
 had overlooked much lawlessness in the conduct of the 
 younger people in his abstract contemplation of some im-
 
 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL 19 
 
 pending event. When the cloth was removed, he rose to 
 his feet and grimly tapped upon the table. A titter, that 
 broke out among the Jones girls, became epidemic on one 
 side of the board. Charles Thompson, from the foot of 
 the table, looked up in tender perplexity. " He 's going 
 to sing a Doxology," " He 's going to pray," " Silence for 
 a speech," ran round the room. 
 
 " It 's one year to-day, Christian brothers and sister:. ;; 
 said Mr. Thompson with grim deliberation, " one yerr 
 to-day since my son came home from eating of swine-husks 
 and spending of his substance on harlots." (The tittering 
 suddenly ceased.) " Look at him now. Charles Thomp- 
 son, stand up." (Charles Thompson stood up.) " One year 
 ago to-day, and look at him now." 
 
 He was certainly a handsome prodigal, standing there in 
 his cheerful evening-dress, a repentant prodigal, with sad 
 obedient eyes turned upon the harsh and unsympathetic 
 glance of his father. The youngest Miss Smith, from the 
 pure depths of her foolish little heart, moved unconsciously 
 toward him. 
 
 " It 's fifteen years ago since he left my house," said Mr. 
 Thompson, " a rovier and a prodigal. I was myself a man 
 of sin, Christian friends, a man of wrath and bitter- 
 ness " ("Amen," from the eldest Miss Smith) "but 
 praise be God, I've fled the wrath to come. It's five 
 years ago since I got the peace that passeth understanding. 
 Have you got it, friends ? " (A general sub-chorus of 
 " Xo, no," from the girls, and, " Pass the word for it," 
 from Midshipman Coxe, of the U. S. sloop Wethersfield.) 
 " Knock, and it shall be opened to you. 
 
 " And when I found the error of my ways, and the 
 preciousness of grace," continued Mr. Thompson, " I came 
 to give it to my son. By sea and land I sought him far, 
 and fainted not. I did not wait for him to come to me 1 
 which the same I might have done, and justified myself by
 
 20 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL 
 
 the Book of books, but I sought him out among his husks, 
 and " (the rest of the sentence was lost, in the rustling 
 withdrawal of the ladies). " Works, Christian friends, is 
 my motto. By their works shall ye know them, and there 
 is mine." 
 
 The particular and accepted work to which Mr. Thomp- 
 son was alluding had turned quite pale, and was looking 
 fixedly toward an open door leading to the veranda, lately 
 filled by gaping servants, and now the scene of some vague 
 tumult. As the noise continued, a man, shabbily dressed 
 and evidently in liquor, broke through the opposing guar- 
 dians and staggered into the room. The transition from 
 the fog and darkness without to the glare and heat within 
 evidently dazzled and stupefied him. He removed his bat- 
 tered hat, and passed it once or twice before his eyes, as he 
 steadied himself, but unsuccessfully, by the back of a chair. 
 Suddenly his wandering glance fell upon the pale face of 
 Charles Thompson ; and with a gleam of childlike recog- 
 nition, and a weak falsetto laugh, he darted forward, caught 
 at the table, upset the glasses, and literally fell upon the 
 'Drodigal's breast. 
 
 " Sha'ly ! yo' d d ol' scoun'rel, hoo rar ye ! " 
 
 " Hush ! sit down ! hush ! " said Charles Thomp- 
 son, hurriedly endeavoring to extricate himself from the 
 embrace of his unexpected guest. 
 
 " Look at 'm ! " continued the stranger, unheeding the 
 admonition, but suddenly holding the unfortunate Charles 
 at arm's length, in loving and undisguised admiration of 
 his festive appearance. " Look at 'm ! Ain't he nasty ? 
 Sha'ls I 'm prow of yer ! " 
 
 " Leave the house ! " said Mr. Thompson, rising, with a 
 dangerous look in his cold gray eye. " Char-les, how dare 
 you ? " 
 
 " Simmer down, ole man ! Sha'ls, who 's th' ol' bloat ? 
 Eh ? "
 
 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL 21 
 
 " Hush, man ; here, take this ! " With nervous hands, 
 Charles Thompson filled a glass with liquor. " Drink it 
 and go until to-morrow ar,y time, but leave us ! 
 go now ! " But even then, ere the miserable wretch could 
 drink, the old man, pale with passion, was upon him. 
 Half carrying him in his powerful arms, half dragging 
 him through the circling crowd of frightened guests, he 
 had reached the door, swung open by the waiting servants, 
 when Charles Thompson started from a seeming stupor, 
 crying 
 
 "" Stop ! " 
 
 The old man stopped. Through the open door the fog 
 and wind drove chilly. " What does this mean ? " he 
 asked, turning a baleful face on Charles. 
 
 " Nothing but stop for God's sake. Wait till to- 
 morrow, but not to-night. Do not, I implore you do 
 this thing." 
 
 There was something in the tone of the young man's 
 voice, something, perhaps, in the contact of the struggling 
 wretch he held in his powerful arms ; but a dim, indefinite 
 fear took possession of the old man's heart. " Who," he 
 whispered hoarsely, " is this man ? " 
 
 Charles did not answer. 
 
 " Stand back, there, all of you," thundered Mr. Thomp- 
 son, to the crowding guests around him. " Char-les come 
 here ! I command you I I I beg you tell me 
 who is this man ? " 
 
 Only two persons heard the answer that came faintly 
 from the lips of Charles Thompson 
 
 " YOUR SON." 
 
 When day broke over the bleak sandhills, the guests had 
 departed from Mr. Thompson's banquet-hall. The lights 
 still burned dimly and coldly in the deserted rooms, de- 
 serted by all but three figures, that huddled together in the 
 chill drawing-room, as if for warmth. One lay in drunken
 
 22 ME. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL 
 
 slumber on a couch ; at his feet sat he who had been known 
 as Charles Thompson; and beside them, haggard and 
 shrunken to half his size, bowed the figure of Mr. Thomp- 
 son, his gray eye fixed, his elbows upon his knees, and his 
 hands clasped over his ears, as if to shut out the sad, en- 
 treating voice that seemed to fill the room. 
 
 "God knows, I did not set about to willfully deceive. 
 The name I gave that night was the first that came into my 
 thought, the name of one whom I thought dead, the 
 dissolute companion of my shame. And when you ques- 
 tioned further, I used the knowledge that I gained from 
 him to touch your heart to set me free ; only, I swear, for 
 that ! But when you told me who you were, and I first 
 saw the opening of another life before me then then 
 O sir, if I was hungry, homeless, and reckless when I 
 would have robbed you of your gold, I was heart-sick, help- 
 less, and desperate when I would have robbed you of your 
 Jove!" 
 
 The old man stirred not. From his luxurious couch the 
 newly found prodigal snored peacefully. 
 
 " I had no father I could claim. I never knew a home 
 but this. I was tempted. I have been happy, very 
 happy." 
 
 He rose and stood before the old man. 
 
 " Do not fear that I shall come between your son and his 
 inheritance. To-day I leave this place, never to return. 
 The world is large, sir, and, thanks to your kindness, I now 
 see the way by which an honest livelihood is gained. Good- 
 by. You will not take my hand? Well, well ! Good- 
 by. 
 
 He turned to go. But when he had reached the door he 
 suddenly came back, and, raising with both hands the griz 
 zled head, he kissed it once and twice. 
 
 "Char-lea!" 
 
 There was no reply.
 
 MR. THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL 23 
 
 " Char-les ! " 
 
 The old man rose with a frightened air, and tottered 
 feebly to the door. It was open. There came to him the 
 awakened tumult of a great city, in which the prodigal's 
 footsteps were lost forever.
 
 THE KOMANCE OF MADKONO HOLLOW 
 
 THE latch on the garden gate of the Folinsbee Eanch 
 clicked twice. The gate itself was so much in shadow that 
 lovely night, that " old man Folinsbee," sitting on his porch, 
 could distinguish nothing hut a tall white hat and beside it 
 a few fluttering ribbons, under the pines that marked the en- 
 trance. Whether because of this fact, or that he considered 
 a sufficient time had elapsed since the clicking of the latch 
 for more positive disclosure, I do not know ; but after a 
 few moments' hesitation he quietly laid aside his pipe and 
 walked slowly down the winding path toward the gate. 
 At the Ceanothus hedge he stopped and listened. 
 
 There was not much to hear. The hat was saying to the 
 ribbons that it was a fine night, and remarking generally 
 upon the clear outline of the Sierras against the blue-black 
 sky. The ribbons, it so appeared, had admired this all the 
 way home, and asked the hat if it had ever seen anything 
 half so lovely as the moonlight on the summit. The hat 
 never had ; it recalled some lovely nights in the South in 
 Alabama (" in the South in Ahlabahm" was the way the 
 old man heard it), but then there were other things that 
 made this night seem so pleasant. The ribbons could not 
 possibly conceive what the hat could be thinking about. 
 At this point there was a pause, of which Mr. Folinsbee 
 availed himself to walk very grimly and craunchingly down 
 the gravel-walk toward the gate. Then the hat was lifted, 
 and disappeared in the shadow, and Mr. Folinsbee con- 
 fronted only the half-foolish, half-mischievous, but wholly 
 pretty face of his daughter.
 
 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW 25 
 
 It was afterwards known to Madrono Hollow that sharp 
 words passed between " Miss Jo " and the old man, and 
 that the latter coupled the names of one Culpepper Star- 
 bottle and his uncle, Colonel Starbottle, with certain un- 
 complimentary epithets, and that Miss Jo retaliated sharply. 
 " Her father's blood before her father's face boiled up and 
 proved her truly of his race," quoted the blacksmith, who 
 leaned toward the noble verse of Byron. " She saw the 
 old man's bluff and raised him," was the direct comment of 
 the college-bred Masters. 
 
 Meanwhile the subject of these animadversions proceeded 
 slowly along the road to a point where the Folinsbee man- 
 sion came in view, a long, narrow, white building, unpre- 
 tentious, yet superior to its neighbors, and bearing some 
 evidences of taste and refinement in the vines that clambered 
 over its porch, in its French windows, and the white mus- 
 lin curtains that kept out the fierce California sun by day, 
 and were now touched with silver in the gracious moon- 
 light. Culpepper leaned against the low fence, and gazed 
 long and earnestly at the building. Then the moonlight 
 vanished ghostlike from one of the windows, a material glow 
 took its place, and a girlish figure, holding a candle, drew 
 the white curtains together. To Culpepper it was a vestal 
 virgin standing before a hallowed shrine ; to the prosaic ob- 
 server I fear it was only a dark-haired young woman, whose 
 wicked black eyes still shone with unfilial warmth. How- 
 beit, when the figure had disappeared, he stepped out 
 briskly into the moonlight of the highroad. Here he took 
 off his distinguishing hat to wipe his forehead, and the moon 
 shone full upon his face. 
 
 It was not an unprepossessing one, albeit a trifle too thin 
 and lank and bilious to be altogether pleasant. The cheek- 
 bones were prominent, and the black eyes sunken in their 
 orbits. Straight black hair fell slantwise off a high but 
 narrow forehead, and swept part of a hollow cheek. A long
 
 26 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW 
 
 black mustache followed the perpendicular curves of his 
 mouth. It was on the whole a serious, even Quixotic face, 
 but at times it was relieved by a rare smile of such tender 
 and even pathetic sweetness, that Miss Jo is reported to 
 have said that, if it would only last through the ceremony, 
 she would have married its possessor on the spot. " I once 
 told him so," added that shameless young woman ; " but the 
 man instantly fell into a settled melancholy, and hasn't 
 smiled since." 
 
 A half mile below the Folinsbee Ranch the white road 
 dipped and was crossed by a trail that ran through Madrono 
 Hollow. Perhaps because it was a near cut-off to the set- 
 tlement, perhaps from some less practical reason, Culpepper 
 took this trail, and in a few moments stood among the rarely 
 beautiful trees that gave their name to the valley. Even 
 in that uncertain light, the weird beauty of these harlequin 
 masqueraders was apparent ; their red trunks a blush in 
 tha moonlight, a deep blood-stain in the shadow stood 
 out against the silvery green foliage. It was as if Nature 
 in some gracious moment had here caught and crystallized 
 the gypsy memories of the transplanted Spaniard, to cheer 
 him in his lonely exile. 
 
 As Culpepper entered the grove, he heard loud voices. 
 As he turned toward a clump of trees, a figure so bizarre 
 and characteristic that it might have been a resident 
 Daphne a figure over-dressed in crimson silk and lace, 
 with bare brown arms and shoulders, and a wreath of 
 honeysuckle stepped out of the shadow. It was fol- 
 lowed by a man. Culpepper started. To come to the 
 point briefly, he recognized in the man the features of his 
 respected uncle, Colonel Starbottle ; in the female, a lady 
 who may be briefly described as one possessing absolutely 
 no claim to an introduction to the polite reader. To hurry 
 over equally unpleasant details, both were evidently undes 
 the influence of liquor.
 
 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW 27 
 
 From the exciting conversation that ensued, Culpepper 
 gathered that some insult had been put upon the lady at a 
 public ball which she had attended that evening ; that the 
 Colonel, her escort, had failed to resent it with the sangui- 
 nary completeness that she desired. I regret that, even in 
 a liberal age, I may not record the exact and even pictur- 
 esque language in which this was conveyed to her hearers. 
 Enough that at the close of a fiery peroration, with femi- 
 nine inconsistency she flew at the gallant Colonel, and 
 would have visited her delayed vengeance upon his luck- 
 less head, but for the prompt interference of Culpepper. 
 Thwarted in this, she threw herself upon the ground, and 
 then into unpicturesque hysterics. There was a fine moral 
 lesson, not only in this grotesque performance of a sex 
 which cannot afford to be grotesque, but in the ludicrous 
 concern with which it inspired the two men. Culpepper, 
 to whom woman was more or less angelic, was pained and 
 sympathetic ; the Colonel, to whom she was more or less 
 improper, was exceedingly terrified and embarrassed. How- 
 beit the storm was soon over, and after Mistress Dolores 
 had returned a little dagger to its sheath (her garter), she 
 quietly took herself out of Madrono Hollow, and happily 
 out of these pages forever. The two men, left to them- 
 selves, conversed in low tones. Dawn stole upon them 
 before they separated : the Colonel quite sobered and in 
 full pos<5p^-?in of his usual jaunty self-assertion ; Culpepper 
 with a baleful glow in his hollow cheek, and in his dark 
 eyes a rising tire. 
 
 The next morning the general ear of Madrono Hollow 
 Avas filled with rumors of the Colonel's mishap. It was 
 asserted that he had been invited to withdraw his female 
 companion from the floor of the Assembly Ball at the 
 Independence Hotel, and that, failing to do this, both were 
 expelled. It is to be regretted that in 1854 public opinion 
 was divided in regard to the propriety of this step, and
 
 28 THE ROMANCE OF MADROSfO HOLLOW 
 
 that there was some discussion as to the comparative virtue 
 of the ladies who were not expelled ; but it was generally 
 conceded that the real casus belli was political. " Is this a 
 dashed Puritan meeting ? " had asked the Colonel savagely. 
 "It's no Pike County shindig," had responded the floor- 
 manager cheerfully. " You 're a Yank ! " had screamed 
 the Colonel, profanely qualifying the noun. " Get ! you 
 border ruffian," was the reply. Such at least was the 
 substance of the reports. As, at that sincere epoch, ex- 
 pressions like the above were usually followed by prompt 
 action, a fracas was confidently looked for. 
 
 Nothing, however, occurred. Colonel Starbottle made 
 his appearance next day upon the streets with somewhat of 
 his usual pomposity, a little restrained by the presence of 
 his nephew, who accompanied him, and who, as a universal 
 favorite, also exercised some restraint upon the curious and 
 impertinent. But Culpepper's face wore a look of anxiety 
 quite at variance with his usual grave repose. " The 
 Don don't seem to take the old man's set-back kindly," 
 observed the sympathizing blacksmith. " P'r'aps he was 
 sweet on Dolores himself," suggested the skeptical express- 
 man. 
 
 It was a bright morning, a week after this occurrence, 
 that Miss Jo Folinsbee stepped from her garden into the 
 road. This time the latch did not click as she cautiously 
 closed the gate behind her. After a moment's irresolu- 
 tion, which would have been awkward but that it was 
 charmingly employed, after the manner of her sex, in 
 adjusting a bow under a dimpled but rather prominent 
 chin, and in pulling down the fingers of a neatly fitting 
 glove, she tripped toward the settlement. Small wonder 
 that a passing teamster drove six mules into the wayside 
 ditch and imperiled his load to keep the dust from her 
 spotless garments ; small wonder that the " Lightning Ex- 
 press" withheld its speed and flash to let her pass, and
 
 THE KOMANCE OF MADKOSfO HOLLOW 29 
 
 that the expressman, who had never been known to ex- 
 change more than rapid monosyllables with his fellow-man, 
 gazed after her with breathless admiration. For she was 
 certainly attractive. In a country where the ornamental 
 sex followed the example of youthful Nature, and were 
 prone to overdress and glaring efflorescence, Miss Jo's 
 simple and tasteful raiment added much to the physical 
 charm of, if it did not actually suggest a sentiment to, her 
 presence. It is said that Euchre-deck Billy, working in 
 the gulch at the crossing, never saw Miss Folinsbee pass 
 but that he always remarked apologetically to his partner, 
 that " he believed he must write a letter home." Even 
 Bill Masters, who saw her in Paris presented to the favor- 
 able criticism of that most fastidious man, the late Emperor, 
 said that she was stunning, but a big discount on what she 
 was at Madrono Hollow. 
 
 It was still early morning, but the sun, with California 
 extravagance, had already begun to beat hotly on the little 
 chip hat and blue ribbons, and Miss Jo was obliged to . 
 seek the shade of a bypath. Here she received the timid 
 advances of a vagabond yellow dog graciously, until, em- 
 boldened by his success, he insisted upon accompanying 
 her, and, becoming slobberingly demonstrative, threatened 
 her spotless skirt with his dusty paws, when she drove him 
 from her with some slight acerbity, and a stone which 
 haply fell within fifty feet of its destined mark. Having 
 thus proved her ability to defend herself, with character- 
 istic inconsistency she took a small panic, and, gathering 
 her white skirts in one hand, and holding the brim of her 
 hat over her eyes with the other, she ran swiftly at least a 
 hundred yards before she stopped. Then she began pick- 
 ing some ferns and a few wild flowers still spared to the 
 withered fields, and then a sudden distrust of her small 
 ankles seized her, and she inspected them narrowly for 
 those burrs and bugs and snakes which are supposed to lie
 
 30 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW 
 
 in wait for helpless womanhood. Then she plucked some 
 golden heads of wild oats, and with a sudden inspiration 
 placed them in her black hair, and then came quite uncon- 
 sciously upon the trail leading to Madrono Hollow. 
 
 Here she hesitated. Before her ran the little trail. 
 vanishing at last into the bosky depths below. The sun 
 was very hot. She must be very far from home. . Why 
 should she not rest awhile under the shade of a madrono ? 
 
 She answered these questions by going there at once. 
 After thoroughly exploring the grove, and satisfying herself 
 that it contained no other living human creature, she sat 
 down under one of the largest trees with a satisfactory little 
 sigh. Miss Jo loved the madrono. It was a cleanly tree ; 
 no dust ever lay upon its varnished leaves ; its immaculate 
 shade never was known to harbor grub or insect. 
 
 She looked up at the rosy arms interlocked and arched 
 above her head. She looked down at the delicate ferns 
 and cryptogams at her feet. Something glittered at the 
 root of the tree. She picked it up ; it was a bracelet. 
 She examined it carefully for cipher or inscription ; there 
 was none. She could not resist a natural desire to clasp it 
 on her arm, and to survey it from that advantageous view- 
 point. This absorbed her attention for some moments ; 
 and when she looked up again she beheld at a little distance 
 Culpepper Starbottle. 
 
 He was standing where he had halted, with instinctive 
 delicacy, on first discovering her. Indeed, he had even 
 deliberated whether he ought not to go away without dis- 
 turbing her. But some fascination held him to the spot. 
 Wonderful power of humanity ! Far beyond jutted an out- 
 lying spur of the Sierra, vast, compact, and silent. Scarcely 
 a hundred yards away, a league-long chasm dropped its 
 sheer walls of granite a thousand feet. On every side rose 
 up the serried ranks of pine-trees, in whose close-set files 
 centuries of storm and change had wrought no breach.
 
 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW 31 
 
 Yet all this seemed to Culpepper to have been planned by 
 an alhvise Providence as the natural background to the 
 figure of a pretty girl in a yellow dress. 
 
 Although Miss Jo had confidently expected to meet 
 Culpepper somewhere in her ramble, now that he came 
 upon her suddenly, she felt disappointed and embarrassed. 
 His manner, too, was more than usually grave and serious, 
 and more than ever seemed to jar upon that audacious 
 levity which was this giddy girl's power and security in a 
 society where all feeling was dangerous. As he approached 
 her she rose to her feet, but almost before she knew it he 
 had taken her hand and drawn her to a seat beside him. 
 This was not what Miss Jo had expected, but nothing is so 
 difficult to predicate as the exact preliminaries of a declara- 
 tion of love. 
 
 What did Culpepper say ? Nothing, I fear, that will 
 add anything to the wisdom of the reader ; nothing, I fear, 
 that Miss Jo had not heard substantially from other lips 
 before. But there was a certain conviction, fire-speed, and 
 fury in the manner that was deliciously novel to the young 
 lady. It was certainly something to be courted in the 
 nineteenth century with all the passion and extravagance of 
 the sixteenth ; it was something to hear, amid the slang of 
 a frontier society, the language of knight-errantry poured 
 into her ear by this lantern-jawed, dark-browed descendant 
 of the Cavaliers. 
 
 I do not know that there was anything more in it. The 
 facts, however, go to show that at a certain point Miss Jc 
 dropped her glove, and that in recovering it Culpepper pos- 
 sessed himself first of her hand and then her lips. When 
 they stood up to go, Culpepper had his arm around her 
 waist, and her black hair, with its sheaf of golden oats, 
 rested against the breast-pocket of his coat. But even then 
 I do not think her fancy was entirely captive. She took a 
 certain satisfaction in this demonstration of Culpepper's
 
 32 THE ROMANCE OF MADROSfO HOLLOW 
 
 splendid height, and mentally compared it with a former 
 flame, one Lieutenant McMirk, an active but under-sized 
 Hector, who subsequently fell a victim to the incautiously 
 composed and monotonous beverages of a frontier garrison. 
 Nor was she so much preoccupied but that her quick eyes, 
 even while absorbing Culpepper's glances, were yet able to 
 detect, at a distance, the figure of a man approaching. In 
 an instant she slipped out of Culpepper's arm, and, whip- 
 ping her hands behind her, said, " There 's that horrid 
 man ! " 
 
 Culpepper looked up and beheld his respected uncle 
 panting and blowing over the hill. His brow contracted as 
 he turned to Miss Jo : " You don't like my uncle ! " 
 
 " I hate him ! " Miss Jo was recovering her ready 
 tongue. 
 
 Culpepper blushed. He would have liked to enter upon 
 some details of the Colonel's pedigree and exploits, but 
 there was not time. He only smiled sadly. The smile 
 melted Miss Jo. She held out her hand quickly, and said 
 with even more than her usual effrontery, " Don't let that 
 man get you into any trouble. Take care of yourself, dear, 
 and don't let anything happen to you." 
 
 Miss Jo intended this speech to be pathetic ; the tenure 
 of life among her lovers had hitherto been very uncertain. 
 Culpepper turned toward her, but she had already vanished 
 in the thicket. 
 
 The Colonel came up panting. " I 've looked all over 
 town for you, and be dashed to you, sir. Who was that 
 with you ? " 
 
 " A lady." (Culpepper never lied, but he was discreet.) 
 
 "D n 'em all! Look yar, Gulp, I've spotted the 
 man who gave the order to put me off the floor " (" flo " 
 was what the Colonel said) " the other night ! " 
 
 " Who was it ? " asked Culpepper listlessly. 
 
 " Jack Folinsbee."
 
 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW 33 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Why, the son of that dashed, nigger-worshiping, psalm- 
 singing, Puritan Yankee. What 's the matter now ? Look 
 yar, Gulp, you ain't goin' back on your blood, are ye ? You 
 ain't goin' back on your word ? Ye ain't going down at 
 the feet of this trash, like a whipped hound ? " 
 
 Culpepper was silent. He was very white. Presently 
 he looked up and said quietly, " No." 
 
 Culpepper Star bottle had challenged Jack Folinsbee, 
 and the challenge was accepted. The cause alleged was 
 the expelling of Culpepper's uncle from the floor of the 
 Assembly Ball by the order of Folinsbee. This much 
 Madrono Hollow knew and could swear to ; but there were 
 other strange rumors afloat, of which the blacksmith was 
 an able expounder. "You see, gentlemen," he said to the 
 crowd gathered around his anvil, " I ain't got no theory of 
 this affair ; I only give a few facts as have come to my 
 knowledge. Culpepper and Jack meets quite accidental 
 like in Bob's saloon. Jack goes up to Culpepper and says, 
 ' A word with you.' Culpepper bows and steps aside in 
 this way, Jack standing about here." (The blacksmith de- 
 monstrates the position of the parties with two old horse- 
 shoes on the anvil.) "Jack pulls a bracelet from his 
 pocket and says, ' Do you know that bracelet ? ' Culpepper 
 says, ' I do not,' quite cool-like and easy. Jack says, 'You 
 gave it to my sister.' Culpepper says, still cool as you 
 please, ' I did not.' Jack says, ' You lie, G d d n 
 you,' and draws his derringer. Culpepper jumps forward 
 about here " (reference is made to the diagram) " and Jack 
 fires. Nobody hit. It 's a mighty cur'o's thing, gentle- 
 men," continued the blacksmith, dropping suddenly into 
 the abstract, and leaning meditatively on his anvil, " it 's 
 a mighty cur'o's thing that nobody gets hit 'so often. 
 You and me empties our revolvers sociably at eac>. other
 
 34 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW 
 
 over a little game, and the room full, and nobody gets hit ! 
 That 's what gets me." 
 
 "Never mind, Thompson," chimed in Bill Masters; 
 " there 's another and a better world where we shall know 
 all that, and become better shots. Go on with your 
 story." 
 
 " Well, some grabs Culpepper and some grabs Jack, and 
 so separates them. Then Jack tells 'em as how he had 
 seen his sister wear a bracelet which he knew was one that 
 had been given Dolores by Colonel Starbottle. That Miss 
 Jo would n't say where she got it, but owned up to having 
 seen Culpepper that day. Then, the most cur'o's thing of 
 it yet, what does Culpepper do but rise up and takes all 
 back that he said, and allows that he did give her the 
 bracelet. Now my opinion, gentlemen, is that he lied ; it 
 ain't like that man to give a gal that he respects anything 
 off of that piece, Dolores. But it 's all the same now, and 
 there 's but one thing to be done." 
 
 The way this one thing was done belongs to the record 
 of Madrono Hollow. The morning was bright and clear ; 
 the air was slightly chill, but that was from the mist which 
 arose along the banks of the river. As early as six o'clock 
 the. designated ground a little opening in the madrono 
 grove was occupied by Culpepper Starbottle, Colonel 
 Starbottle, his second, and the surgeon. The Colonel was 
 exalted and excited, albeit in a rather imposing, dignified 
 way, and pointed out to the surgeon the excellence of the 
 ground, which at that hour was wholly shaded from the 
 sun, whose steady stare is more or less discomposing to 
 your duelist. The surgeon threw himself on the grass and 
 smoked his cigar. Culpepper, quiet and thoughtful, leaned 
 against a tree and gazed up the river. There was a strange 
 suggestion of a picnic about the group, which was height- 
 ened when the Colonel drew a' bottle from his coat-tails. 
 and, taking a preliminary draught, offered it to the othert,.
 
 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW 35 
 
 "Cocktails, sir," he explained with dignified precision. 
 " A gentleman, sir, should never go out without 'em. 
 Keeps off the morning chill. I remember going out in '53 
 with Hank Boompointer. Good ged, sir, the man had to 
 put on his overcoat, and was shot in it. Fact ! " 
 
 But the noise of wheels drowned the Colonel's remi- 
 niscences, and a rapidly driven buggy, containing Jack 
 Folinsbee, Calhoun Bungstarter, his second, and Bill Mas- 
 ters, drew up on the ground. Jack Folinsbee leaped out 
 gayly. " I had the jolliest work to get away without the 
 governor's hearing," he began, addressing the group before 
 him with the greatest volubility. Calhoun Bungstarter 
 touched his arm, and the young man blushed. It was his 
 first duel. 
 
 " If you are ready, gentlemen," said Mr. Bungstarter, 
 " we had better proceed to business. I believe it is under- 
 stood that no apology will be offered or accepted. We 
 may as well settle preliminaries at once, or I fear we shall 
 be interrupted. There is a rumor in town that the Vigi- 
 lance Committee are seeking our friends the Starbottles, 
 and I believe, as their fellow-countryman, I have the honor 
 to be included in their warrant." 
 
 At this probability of interruption, that gravity which 
 had hitherto been wanting fell upon the group. The pre- 
 liminaries were soon arranged and the principals placed in 
 position. Then there was a silence. 
 
 To a spectator from the hill, impressed with the picnic 
 suggestion, what might have been the popping of two 
 champagne corks broke the stillness. 
 
 Culpepper had fired in the air. Colonel Starbottle 
 uttered a low curse. Jack Folinsbee sulkily demanded 
 another shot. 
 
 Again the parties stood opposed to each other. Again 
 the word was given, and what seemed to be the simulta- 
 neous report of both pistols rose upon the air. But after
 
 36 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW 
 
 an interval of a few seconds all were surprised to see 
 Culpepper slowly raise his unexploded weapon and fire it 
 harmlessly above his head. Then throwing the pistol upon 
 the ground, he walked to a tree and leaned silently against 
 it. Jack Folinsbee flew into a paroxysm of fury. Colonel 
 Starbottle raved and swore. Mr. Bungstarter was properly 
 shocked at their conduct. "Keally, gentlemen, if Mr. 
 Culpepper Starbottle declines another shot, I do not see 
 how we can proceed." 
 
 But the Colonel's blood was up, and Jack Folinsbee 
 was equally implacable. A hurried consultation ensued, 
 which ended by Colonel Starbottle taking his nephew's 
 place as principal, Bill Masters acting as second, vice Mr. 
 Bungstarter, who declined all further connection with the 
 affair. 
 
 Two distinct reports rang through the Hollow. Jack 
 Folinsbee dropped his smoking pistol, took a step forward, 
 and then dropped "heavily upon his face. 
 
 In a moment the surgeon was at his side. The confusion 
 was heightened by the trampling of hoofs, and the voice 
 of the blacksmith bidding them flee for their lives before 
 the coming storm. A moment more and the ground was 
 cleared, and the surgeon, looking up, beheld only the white 
 face of Culpepper bending over him. 
 
 " Can you save him ? " 
 
 " I cannot say. Hold up his head a moment while I 
 run to the buggy." 
 
 Culpepper passed his arm tenderly around the neck of 
 the insensible man. Presently the surgeon returned with 
 some stimulants. 
 
 " There, that will do, Mr. Starbottle, thank you. Now 
 my advice is to get away from here while you can. I '11 
 look after Folinsbee. Do you hear ? " 
 
 Culpepper's arm Vas still round the neck of his late foe, 
 but his head had dropped and fallen on the wounded
 
 THE ROMANCE OF MADRONO HOLLOW 37 
 
 man's shoulder. The surgeon looked down, and catching 
 sight of his face, stooped and lifted him gently in his arms. 
 He opened his coat and waistcoat. There was blood upon 
 his shirt and a bullet-hole in his breast. He had been shot 
 unto death at the first fire !
 
 THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT 
 
 As the enterprising editor of the " Sierra Flat Record " 
 stood at his case setting type for his next week's paper, he 
 could not help hearing the woodpeckers who were busy on 
 the roof above his head. It occurred to him that possibly 
 the birds had not yet learned to recognize in the rude struc- 
 ture any improvement on Nature, and this idea pleased him 
 so much that he incorporated it in the editorial article which 
 he was then doubly composing. For the editor was also 
 printer of the " Record ; " and although that remarkable 
 journal was reputed to exert a power felt through all Cala- 
 veras and a great part of Tuolumne County, strict economy 
 was one of the conditions of its beneficent existence. 
 
 Thus preoccupied, he was startled by the sudden irrup- 
 tion of a small roll of manuscript, which was thrown 
 through the open door and fell at his feet. He walked 
 quickly to the threshold and looked down the tangled trail 
 which led to the highroad. But there was nothing to sug- 
 gest the presence of his mysterious contributor. A hare 
 limped slowly away, a green-and-gold lizard paused upon a 
 pine stump, the woodpeckers ceased their work. So com- 
 plete had been his sylvan seclusion, that he found it difficult 
 to connect any human agency with the act ; rather the hare 
 seemed to have an inexpressibly guilty look, the wood- 
 peckers to maintain- a significant silence, and the lizard to 
 be conscience-stricken into stone. 
 
 An examination of the manuscript, however, corrected 
 this injustice to defenseless Nature. It was evidently of 
 human origin, being verse, and of exceeding bad quality,
 
 THE POET OF SIERUA FLAT 39 
 
 The editor laid it aside. As he did so he thought he saw a 
 face at the window. Sallying out in some indignation, he 
 penetrated the surrounding thicket in every direction, but 
 his search was as fruitless as before. The poet, if it were 
 he, was gone. 
 
 A few days after this the editorial seclusion was invaded 
 by voices of alternate expostulation and entreaty. Stepping 
 to the door, the editor was amazed at beholding Mr. Morgan 
 McCorkle, a well-known citizen of Angel's and a subscriber 
 to the " Record," in the act of urging, partly by force and 
 partly by argument, an awkward young man toward the 
 building. When he had finally effected his object, and, as 
 it were, safely landed his prize in a chair, Mr. McCorkle 
 took off his hat, carefully wiped the narrow isthmus of fore- 
 head which divided his black brows from his stubby hair, 
 and, with an explanatory wave of his hand toward his re- 
 luctant companion, said, " A borned poet, and the cussedest 
 fool you ever seed ! " 
 
 Accepting the editor's smile as a recognition of the in- 
 troduction, Mr. McCorkle panted and went on : " Did n't 
 want to come ! ' Mister Editor don't want to see me, 
 Morg/ sez he. ' Milt,' sez I, ' he do ; a borned poet like 
 you and a gifted genius like he oughter come together 
 sociable ! ' And I fetched him. Ah, will yer ? " The 
 born poet had, after exhibiting signs of great distress, 
 started to run. But Mr. McCorkle was down upon him in- 
 stantly, seizing him by his long linen coat, and settled him 
 back in his chair. " 'T ain't no use stampeding. Yer ye are 
 and yer ye stays. For yer a borned poet, ef ye are as 
 shy as a jackass rabbit. Look at 'im now ! " 
 
 He certainly was not an attractive picture. There was 
 hardly a notable feature in his weak face, except his eyes, 
 which were moist and shy, and not unlike the animal tc 
 which Mr. McCorkle had compared him. It was the face 
 that the editor had seen at the window.
 
 40 THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT 
 
 " Knowed him for fower year, since he war a boy," 
 continued Mr. McCorkle in a loud whisper. " Allers tha 
 same, bless you ! Can jerk a rhyme as easy as turnin' jack. 
 Never had any eddication ; lived out in Missooray all his 
 life. But he 's chock full o' poetry. On'y this mornin' 
 sez I to him, he camps along o' me, 'Milt!' sez I, 
 1 are breakfast ready ? ' and he up and answers back quite 
 peart and chipper, ' The breakfast it is ready, and the birds 
 is singing free, and it 's risin' in the dawnin' light is happi- 
 ness to me ! ' When a man," said Mr. McCorkle, dropping 
 his voice with deep solemnity, " gets off things like them, 
 without any call to do it, and handlin' flapjacks over a cook- 
 stove at the same time, that man's a horned poet." 
 
 There was an awkward pause. Mr. McCorkle beamed 
 patronizingly on his protege. The born poet looked as if 
 he were meditating another flight, not a metaphorical 
 one. The editor asked if he could do anything for them. 
 
 " In course you can," responded Mr. McCorkle, " that 's 
 jest it. Milt, where 's that poetry ? " 
 
 The editor's countenance fell as the poet produced from 
 his pocket a roll of manuscript. He, however, took it 
 mechanically and glanced over it. It was evidently a 
 duplicate of the former mysterious contribution. 
 
 The editor then spoke briefly but earnestly. I regret 
 that I cannot recall his exact words, but it appeared that 
 never before, in the history of the " Record," had the press- 
 ure been so great upon its columns. Matters of paramount 
 importance, deeply affecting the material progress of Sierra, 
 questions touching the absolute integrity of Calaveras and 
 Tuolumne as social communities, were even now waiting 
 expression. Weeks, nay, months, must elapse before that 
 pressure would be removed, and the " Record " could grap- 
 ple with any but the sternest of topics. Again, the editor 
 had noticed with pain the absolute decline of poetry in the 
 foothills of the Sierras. Even the works of Byron and
 
 THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT 41 
 
 Moore attracted no attention in Dutch Flat, and a prejudice 
 seemed to exist against Tennyson in Grass Valley. But 
 the editor was not without hope for the future. In the 
 course of four or five years, when the country was settled 
 
 " What would be the cost to print this yer ? " inter- 
 rupted Mr. McCorkle quietly. 
 
 " About fifty dollars, as an advertisement," responded 
 the. editor with cheerful alacrity. 
 
 Mr. McCorkle placed the sum in the editor's hand, 
 " Yer see thet 's what I sez to Milt. ' Milt/ sez I, < pay 
 as you go, for you are a horned poet. Hevin' no call to 
 write, but doin' it free and spontaneous like, in course you 
 pays. Thet 's why Mr. Editor never printed your poetry.' " 
 
 " What name shall I put to it ? " asked the editor. 
 
 " Milton." 
 
 It was the first word that the born poet had spoken during 
 the interview, and his voice was so very sweet and musical 
 that the editor looked at him curiously, and wondered if he 
 had a sister. 
 
 " Milton ! is that all ? " 
 
 " Thet 's his furst name," exclaimed Mr. McCorkle. 
 
 The editor here suggested that as there had been another 
 poet of that name 
 
 " Milt might be took for him ! Thet 's bad," reflected 
 Mr. McCorkle with simple gravity. " Well, put down his 
 full name, Milton Chubbuck." 
 
 The editor made a note of the fact. " I '11 set it up 
 now," he said. This was also a hint that the interview 
 was ended. The poet and patron, arm in arm, drew 
 towards the door. " In next week's paper," said the 
 editor smilingly, in answer to the childlike look of inquiry 
 in the eyes of the poet, and in another moment they were 
 gone. 
 
 The editor was as good as his word. He straightway 
 betook himself to his case, and, unrolling the manuscript,
 
 42 THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT 
 
 began his task. The woodpeckers on the roof recommenced 
 theirs, and in a few moments the former sylvan seclusion 
 was restored. There was no sound in the barren, barn-like 
 room but the birds above, and below the click of the com- 
 posing rule as the editor marshaled the types into lines in 
 his sti<;k, and arrayed them in solid column on the galley. 
 Whatever might have been his opinion of the copy before 
 him, there was no indication of it in his face, which wore 
 the stolid indifference of his craft. Perhaps this was un- 
 fortunate, for as the day wore on and the level rays of the 
 sun began to pierce the adjacent thicket, they sought out 
 and discovered an anxious ambush figure drawn up beside 
 the editor's window, a figure that had sat there motion- 
 less for hours. Within, the editor worked on as steadily 
 and impassively as Fate. And without, the born poet of 
 Sierra Flat sat and Avatched him as waiting its decree. 
 
 The effect of the poem on Sierra Flat was remarkable 
 and unprecedented. The absolute vileness of its doggerel, 
 the gratuitous imbecility of its thought, and above all the 
 crowning audacity of the fact that it was the work of a citi- 
 zen and published in the county paper, brought it instantly 
 into popularity. For many months Calaveras had lan- 
 guished for a sensation ; since the last Vigilance Committee 
 nothing had transpired to dispel the listless ennui begotten 
 of stagnant business and growing civilization. In more 
 prosperous moments the office of the " Kecord " would have 
 been simply gutted and the editor deported ; at present the 
 paper was in such demand that the edition was speedily ex- 
 hausted. In brief, the poem of Mr. Milton Chubbuck came 
 like a special providence to Sierra Flat. It was read by 
 camp-fires, in lonely cabins, in flaring bar-rooms and noisy 
 saloons, and declaimed from the boxes of stage-coaches. It 
 was sung in Poker Flat with the addition of a local chorus, 
 and danced as an unhallowed rhythmic dance by the Pyrrhic
 
 THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT 48 
 
 phalanx of One Horse Gulch, known as " The Festive Stags 
 of Calaveras." Some unhappy ambiguities of expression 
 gave rise to many new readings, notes, and commentarieSj 
 which, I regret to state, were more often marked by inge- 
 nuity than delicacy of thought or expression. 
 
 Never before did poet acquire such sudden local reputa- 
 tion. From the seclusion of McCorkle's cabin and the 
 obscurity of culinary labors he was haled forth into the 
 glowing sunshine of Fame. The name of Chubbuck was 
 written in letters of chalk on unpainted walls and carved with 
 a pick on the sides of tunnels. A drink known variously 
 as " The Chubbuck Tranquilizer " or ** The Chubbuck Ex- 
 alter " was dispensed at the bars. For some weeks a rude 
 design for a Chubbuck statue, made up of illustrations from 
 circus and melodeon posters, representing the genius of Cala- 
 veras in brief skirts on a flying steed in the act of crowning 
 the poet Chubbuck, was visible at Keeler's Ferry. The 
 poet himself was overborne with invitations to drink and 
 extravagant congratulations. The meeting between Colonel 
 Starbottle of Siskiyou and Chubbuck, as previously arranged 
 by our " Boston," late of Eoaring Camp, is said to have 
 been indescribably affecting. The Colonel embraced him 
 unsteadily. " I could not return to my constituents at Sis- 
 kiyou, sir, if this hand, which has grasped that of the gifted 
 Prentice and the lamented Poe, should not have been hon- 
 ored by the touch of the godlike Chubbuck. Gentlemen, 
 American literature is looking up. Thank you ! I will 
 take sugar in mine." It was " Boston " who indited letters 
 of congratulations from H. W. Longfellow, Tennyson, and 
 Browning to Mr. Chubbuck, deposited them in the Sierra 
 Flat post-office, and obligingly consented to dictate the re- 
 plies. 
 
 The simple faith and unaffected delight with which these 
 manifestations were received by the poet and his patron 
 might have touched the hearts of these grim masters of irony.
 
 44 THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT 
 
 but for the sudden and equal development in both of the 
 vanity of weak natures. Mr. McCorkle basked in the 
 popularity of his protege, and became alternately supercil- 
 ious or patronizing toward the dwellers of Sierra Flat ; while 
 the poet, with hair carefully oiled and curled, and bedecked 
 with cheap jewelry and flaunting neck-handkerchief, paraded 
 himself before the single hotel. As may be imagined, this 
 new disclosure of weakness afforded intense satisfaction to 
 Sierra Flat, gave another lease of popularity to the poet, 
 and suggested another idea to the facetious " Boston." 
 
 At that time a young lady popularly and professionally 
 known as the " California Pet " was performing to enthusi- 
 astic audiences in the interior. Her specialty lay in the 
 personation of youthful masculine character ; as a gamin of 
 the street she was irresistible, as a negro-dancer she carried 
 the honest miner's heart by storm. A saucy, pretty bru- 
 nette, she had preserved a wonderful moral reputation even 
 under the Jove-like advances of showers of gold that greeted 
 her appearance on the stage at Sierra Flat. A prominent 
 and delighted member of that audience was Milton Chubbuck. 
 He attended every night. Every day he lingered at the 
 door of the Union Hotel for a glimpse of the " California 
 Pet." It was not long before he received a note from her, 
 
 in " Boston's " most popular and approved female hand, 
 
 acknowledging his admiration. It was not long before 
 " Boston " was called upon to indite a suitable reply. At 
 last, in furtherance of his facetious design, it became neces- 
 sary for "Boston" to call upon the young actress herself 
 and secure her personal participation. To her he unfolded 
 a plan, the successful carrying out of which he felt would 
 eecure his fame to posterity as a practical humorist. The 
 " California Pet's " black eyes sparkled approvingly and 
 mischievously. She only stipulated that she should see the 
 man first, a concession to her feminine weakness which 
 years of dancing Juba and wearing trousers and boots had
 
 THE POET OF 'SIERRA FLAT 45 
 
 not wholly eradicated from her willful breast. By all means, 
 it should be done. And the interview was arranged for 
 the next week. 
 
 It must not be supposed that during this interval of 
 popularity Mr. Chubbuck had been unmindful of his poetic 
 qualities. A certain portion of each day he was absent 
 from town, " a-communin' with natur'," as Mr. McCorkle 
 expressed it, and actually wandering in the mountain 
 trails, or lying on his back under the trees, or gathering 
 fragrant herbs and the bright-colored berries of the Man- 
 zanita. These and his company he generally brought to 
 the editor's office late in the afternoon, often to that enter- 
 prising journalist's infinite weariness. Quiet and uncom- 
 municative, he would sit there patiently watching him at 
 his work until the hour for closing the office arrived, when 
 he would as quietly depart. There was something so hum- 
 ble and unobtrusive in these visits, that the editor could not 
 find it in his heart to deny them, and accepting them, like 
 the woodpeckers, as a part of his sylvan surroundings, often 
 forgot even his presence. Once or twice, moved by some 
 beauty of expression in the moist, shy eyes, he felt like 
 seriously admonishing his visitor of his idle folly ; but his 
 glance falling upon the oiled hair and the gorgeous necktie 
 he invariably thought better of it. The case was evidently 
 hopeless. 
 
 The interview between Mr. Chubbuck and the " Cali- 
 fornia Pet" took place in a private room of the Union 
 Hotel ; propriety being respected by the presence of that 
 arch-humorist, "Boston." To this gentleman we are in- 
 debted for the only true account of the meeting. However 
 reticent Mr. Chubbuck might have been in the presence of 
 his own sex, toward the fairer portion of humanity he was, 
 like most poets, exceedingly voluble. Accustomed as the 
 " California Pet " had been to excessive compliment, she 
 was fairly embarrassed by the extravagant praises of her
 
 46 THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT 
 
 visitor. Her personation of boy characters, her dancing of 
 the " champion jig," were particularly dwelt upon with 
 fervid but unmistakable admiration. At last, recovering hei 
 audacity and emboldened by the presence of " Boston," 
 the " California Pet " electrified her hearers by demanding, 
 half jestingly, half viciously, if it were as a boy or a girl 
 that she was the subject of his nattering admiration. 
 
 " That knocked him out o' time," said the delighted 
 "Boston," in his subsequent account of the interview 
 " But do you believe the d d fool actually asked her to 
 take him with her ; wanted to engage in the company." 
 
 The plan, as briefly unfolded by " Boston," was to prevail 
 upon Mr. Chubbuck to make his appearance in costume 
 (already designed and prepared by the inventor) before a 
 Sierra Flat audience, and recite an original poem at the 
 Hall immediately on the conclusion of the " California 
 Pet's " performance. At a given signal the audience were 
 to rise and deliver a volley of unsavory articles (previously 
 provided by the originator of the scheme) ; then a select 
 few were to rush on the stage, seize the poet, and, after 
 marching him in triumphal procession through the town, 
 were to deposit him beyond its uttermost limits, with strict 
 injunctions never to enter it again. To the first part of the 
 plan the poet was committed ; for the latter portion it was 
 easy enough to find participants. 
 
 The eventful night came, and with it an audience that 
 packed the long narrow room with one dense mass of human 
 beings. The " California Pet " never had been so joyous, 
 so reckless, so fascinating and audacious before. But the 
 applause was tame and weak compared to the ironical out- 
 burst that greeted the second rising of the curtain and the 
 entrance of the born poet of Sierra "Flat. Then there was a 
 hush of expectancy, and the poet stepped to the footlights 
 and stood with his manuscript in his hand. 
 
 His face was deadly pale. Either there was some sug-
 
 THE POET OF SIEREA FLAT 47 
 
 gestion of his fate in the faces of his audience, or some 
 mysterious instinct told him of his danger. He attempted 
 to speak, but faltered, tottered, and staggered to the wings. 
 
 Fearful of losing his prey, " Boston " gave the signal 
 and leaped upon the stage. But at the same moment a 
 light figure darted from behind the scenes, and delivering a 
 kick that sent the discomfited humorist back among the 
 musicians, cut a pigeon-wing, executed a double-shuffle, and 
 then advancing to the footlights with that inimitable look, 
 that audacious swagger and utter abandon which had so 
 thrilled and fascinated them a moment before, uttered the 
 characteristic speech, " Wot are you goin' to hit a man fur 
 when he 's down, s-a-a-y ? " 
 
 The look, the drawl, the action, the readiness, and abovft 
 all the downright courage of the little woman, had an effect. 
 A roar of sympathetic applause followed the act. " Cut 
 and run while you can," she whispered hurriedly over her 
 une shoulder, without altering the other's attitude of pert 
 and saucy defiance toward the audience. But even as she 
 tpoke, the poet tottered and .sank fainting upon the stage. 
 Then she threw a despairing whisper behind the scenes, 
 " Ring down the curtain." 
 
 There was a slight movement of opposition in the audi- 
 ence, but among them rose the burly shoulders of Yuba 
 Bill, the tall, erect figure of Henry York, of Sandy Bar, 
 and the colorless, determined face of John Oakhurst. The 
 curtain came down. 
 
 Behind it knelt the " California Pet " beside the pros' 
 tvate poet. " Bring me some water. Run for a doctor. 
 Stop ! ! CLEAR OUT, ALL OF YOU ! " 
 
 She had unloosed the gaudy cravat and opened the shirt- 
 collar of the insensible figure before her. Then she burst 
 into an hysterical laugh. 
 
 " Manuela ! " 
 
 Her tiring-woman, a Mexican half-breed, came toward her,
 
 48 THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT 
 
 " Help me with him to my dressing-room, quick ; then 
 stand outside and wait. If any one questions you, tell 
 them he 's gone. Do you hear ? HE 's gone." 
 
 The old woman did as she was bade. In a few moments 
 the audience had departed. Before morning so also had 
 the "California Pet," Manuela, and the poet of Sierra 
 Flat. 
 
 But, alas ! with them also had departed the fair fame of 
 the " California Pet." Only a few, and these, it is to be 
 feared, of not the best moral character themselves, still had 
 faith in the stainless honor of their favorite actress. " It 
 was a mighty foolish thing to do, but it '11 all come out 
 right yet." On the other hand, a majority gave her full 
 credit and approbation for her undoubted pluck and gal- 
 lantry, but deplored that she should have thrown it away 
 upon a worthless object. To elect for a lover the despised 
 and ridiculed vagrant of Sierra Flat, who had not even the 
 manliness to stand up in his own defense, was not only 
 evidence of inherent moral depravity, but was an insult to 
 the community. Colonel Starbottle saw in it only another 
 instance of extreme frailty of the sex ; he had known 
 similar cases ; and remembered distinctly, sir, how a well 
 known Philadelphia heiress, one of the finest women that 
 ever rode in her kerridge, that, gad, sir ! had thrown over 
 a Southern member of Congress to consort with a d d 
 nigger. The Colonel had also noticed a singular look in 
 the dog's eye which he did not entirely fancy. He would 
 not say anything against the lady, sir, but he had noticed 
 And here, haply, the Colonel became so mysterious and 
 darkly confidential as to be unintelligible and inaudible to 
 the bystanders. 
 
 A few days after the disappearance of Mr. Chubbuck a 
 singular report reached Sierra Flat, and it was noticed that 
 " Boston," who since the failure of his elaborate joke had 
 been even more depressed in spirits than is habitual with
 
 THE POET OF SIEKRA FLAT 49 
 
 great humorists, suddenly found that his presence was 
 required in San Francisco. But as yet nothing but the 
 vaguest surmises were afloat, and nothing definite was 
 known. 
 
 It was a pleasant afternoon when the editor of the 
 " Sierra Flat Record " looked up from his case and beheld 
 the figure of Mr. Morgan McCorkle standing in the door- 
 way. There was a distressed look on the face of that 
 worthy gentleman that at once enlisted the editor's sym- 
 pathizing attention. He held an open letter in his hand as 
 he advanced toward the middle of the room. 
 
 " As a man as has allers borne a fair reputation," began 
 Mr. McCorkle slowly, " I should like, if so be as I could, 
 Mister Editor, to make a correction in the columns of your 
 valooable paper." 
 
 Mr. Editor begged him to proceed. 
 
 " Ye may not disremember that about a month ago I 
 fetched here what so be as we '11 call a young man whose 
 name might be as it were Milton Milton Chubbuck." 
 
 Mr. Editor remembered perfectly. 
 
 "Thet same party I'd knowed better nor fower year, 
 two on 'em campin' out together. Not that I 'd known 
 him all the time, fur he war shy and strange, at spells, and 
 had odd ways that I took war nat'ral to a horned poet. 
 Ye may remember that I said he was a horned poet ? " 
 
 The editor distinctly did. 
 
 " I picked this same party up in St. Jo., taking a fancy 
 to his face, and kinder calklating he 'd runned away from 
 home ; for I 'm a married man, Mr. Editor, and hev chil- 
 dren of my own, and thinkin' belike he was a borned 
 poet." 
 
 " Well," said the editor. 
 
 " And as I said before, I should like now to make a 
 torrection in the columns of your valooable paper." 
 
 " What correction ? " asked the editor.
 
 50 THE POET OF SIERRA FLAT 
 
 "I said, ef you remember my words, as how he was a 
 horned poet." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " From statements in this yer letter it seems as how I 
 war wrong." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " She war a woman."
 
 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 
 
 SHE was a Klainath Indian. Her title was, I think, a 
 compromise between her claim as daughter of a chief and 
 gratitude to her earliest white protector, whose name, after 
 the Indian fashion, she had adopted. " Bob " Walker 
 had taken her from the breast of her dead mother at a 
 time when the sincere volunteer soldiery of the California 
 frontier were impressed with the belief that extermination 
 was the manifest destiny of the Indian race. He had with 
 difficulty restrained the noble zeal of his compatriots long 
 enough to convince them that the exemption of one Indian 
 baby would not invalidate this theory. And he took her to 
 his home, a pastoral clearing on the banks of the Salmon 
 River, Avhere she was cared for after a frontier fashion. 
 
 Before she was nine years old, she had exhausted the 
 scant kindliness of the thin, overworked Mrs. Walker. As 
 a playfellow of the young Walkers she was unreliable ; 
 as a nurse for the baby she was inefficient. She lost the 
 former in the trackless depths of a redwood forest ; she 
 basely abandoned the latter in an extemporized cradle, 
 hanging like a chrysalis to a convenient bough. She lied 
 and she stole, two unpardonable sins in a frontier com- 
 munity, where truth was a necessity and provisions were 
 the only property. Worse than this, the outskirts of the 
 clearing were sometimes haunted by blanketed tatterdema- 
 lions with whom she had mysterious confidences. Mr. 
 Walker more than once regretted his indiscreet humanity ; 
 but she presently relieved him of responsibility, and pos- 
 sibly of blood-guiltiness, by disappearing entirely.
 
 52 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 
 
 When she reappeared, it was at the adjacent village of 
 Logport, in the capacity of housemaid to a trader's wife ; 
 who, joining some little culture to considerable conscien- 
 tiousness, attempted to instruct her charge. But the 
 Princess proved an unsatisfactory pupil to even so liberal 
 a teacher. She accepted the alphabet with great good- 
 humor, but always as a pleasing and recurring novelty, in 
 which all interest expired at the completion of each lesson. 
 She found a thousand uses for her books and writing 
 materials other than those known to civilized children. 
 She made a curious necklace of bits of slate pencil ; she 
 constructed a miniature canoe from the pasteboard covers 
 of her primer ; she bent her pens into fish-hooks, and 
 tattooed the faces of her younger companions with blue ink. 
 Religious instruction she received as good-humoredly, and 
 learned to pronounce the name of the Deity with a cheerful 
 familiarity that shocked her preceptress. Nor could her 
 reverence be reached through analogy ; she knew nothing 
 of the Great Spirit, and professed entire ignorance of the 
 Happy Hunting Grounds. Yet she attended divine service 
 regularly, and as regularly asked for a hymn-book ; and 
 it was only through the discovery that she had collected 
 twenty-five of these volumes and had hidden them behind 
 the woodpile, that her connection with the First Baptist 
 Church of Logport ceased. She would occasionally abandon 
 these civilized and Christian privileges, and disappear from 
 her home, returning after several days of absence with an 
 odor of bark and fish, and a peace-offering to her mistress in 
 the shape of venison or game. 
 
 To add to her troubles, she was now fourteen, and, 
 according to the laws of her race, a woman. I do not think 
 the most romantic fancy would have called her pretty. 
 Her complexion defied most of those ambiguous similes 
 through which poets unconsciously apologize for any devia- 
 tion from the Caucasian standard. It was not wine nor
 
 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 53 
 
 amber colored ; if anything, it was smoky. Her facf vas 
 tattooed with red and white lines on one cheek, as if a 5ne- 
 toothed comb had been drawn from cheekbone to jaw, and, 
 but for the good-humor that beamed from her small berry- 
 like eyes and shone in her white teeth, would have been 
 repulsive. She was short and stout. In her scant drapery 
 and unrestrained freedom she was hardly statuesque, and 
 her more unstudied attitudes were marred by a simian habit 
 of softly scratching her left ankle with the toes of her 
 right foot in moments of contemplation. 
 
 I think I have already shown enough to indicate the 
 incongruity of her existence with even the low standard 
 of civilization that obtained at Logport in the year 1860. 
 It needed but one more fact to prove the far-sighted polit- 
 ical sagacity and prophetic ethics of those sincere advocates 
 of extermination, to whose virtues I have done but scant 
 justice in the beginning of this article. This fact was 
 presently furnished by the Princess. After one of her 
 periodical disappearances, this time unusually prolonged, 
 she astonished Logport by returning with a half-breed 
 baby of a week old in her arms. That night a meeting 
 of the hard-featured serious matrons of Logport was held 
 at Mrs. Brown's. The immediate banishment of the Prin- 
 cess was demanded. Soft-hearted Mrs. Brown endeavored 
 vainly to get a mitigation or suspension of the sentence. 
 But, as on a former occasion, the Princess took matters 
 into her own hands. A few mornings afterwards, a wicker 
 cradle containing an Indian baby was found hanging on the 
 handle of the door of the First Baptist Church. It was 
 the Parthian arrow of the flying Princess. From that day 
 Logport knew her no more. 
 
 It had been a bright clear day on the upland, so clear 
 that the ramparts of Fort Jackson and the flagstaff were 
 plainly visible twelve miles away from the long, curving
 
 54 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 
 
 peninsula that stretched a bared white arm around the 
 peaceful waters of Logport Bay. It had been a clear day 
 upon the seashore, albeit the air was filled with the flying 
 spume and shifting sand of a straggling beach, whose low 
 chines were dragged down by the long surges of the Pacific 
 and thrown up again by the tumultuous trade-winds. But 
 the sun had gone down in a bank of fleecy fog that was be- 
 ginning to roll in upon the beach. Gradually the headland 
 at the entrance of the harbor and the lighthouse disap- 
 peared, then the willow fringe that marked the line of 
 Salmon Kiver vanished, and the ocean was gone. A few 
 sails still gleamed on the waters of the bay ; but the ad- 
 vancing fog wiped them out one by one, crept across the 
 steel-blue expanse, swallowed up the white mills and single 
 spire of Logport, and, joining with reinforcements from the 
 marshes, moved solemnly upon the hills. Ten minutes 
 more and the landscape was utterly blotted out ; simulta- 
 neously the wind died away and a death-like silence stole 
 over sea and shore. The faint clang, high overhead, of 
 imseen brant, the nearer call of invisible plover, the lap and 
 wash of undistinguishable waters, and the monotonous roll 
 of the vanished ocean, were the only sounds. As night 
 deepened, the far-off booming of the fog-bell on the head- 
 land at intervals stirred the thick air. 
 
 Hard by the shore of the bay, and half hidden by a 
 drifting sandhill, stood a low, nondescript structure, to 
 whose composition sea and shore had equally contributed. 
 It was built partly of logs and partly of driftwood and 
 tarred canvas. Joined to one end of the main building 
 the ordinary log-cabin of the settler was the half-round 
 pilot-house of some wrecked steamer, while the other gable 
 terminated in half of a broken whaleboat. Nailed against 
 the boat were the dried skins of wild animals, and scattered 
 about lay the flotsam and jetsam of many years' gathering, 
 bamboo crates, casks, hatches, blocks, oars, boxes part
 
 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 55 
 
 of a whale's vertebrae, and the blades of svvordfish. Drawn 
 up on the beach of a little cove before the house lay a canoe. 
 As the night thickened and the fog grew more dense, these 
 details grew imperceptible, and only the windows of the 
 pilot-house, lit up by a roaring fire within the hut, gleamed 
 redly through the mist. 
 
 By this fire, beneath a ship's lamp that swung from the 
 roof, two figures were seated, a man and a woman. The 
 man, broad-shouldered and heavily bearded, stretched his 
 listless powerful length beyond a broken bamboo chair with 
 his eyes fixed on the fire. The woman crouched cross- 
 legged upon the broad earthen hearth, with her eyes blink- 
 ingly fixed on her companion. They were small, black, 
 round, berry-like eyes, and as the firelight shone upon her 
 smoky face, with its one striped cheek of gorgeous brilliancy, 
 it was plainly the Princess Bob and no other. 
 
 Not a word was spoken. They had been sitting thus 
 for more than an hour, and there was about their attitude a 
 suggestion that silence was habitual. Once or twice the 
 man rose and walked up and down the narrow room, or 
 gazed absently from the windows of the pilot-house, but 
 never by look or sign betrayed the slightest consciousness 
 of his companion. At such times the Princess from her 
 nest by the fire followed him with eyes of canine expectancy 
 and wistfulness. But he would as inevitably return to his 
 contemplation of the fire, and the Princess to her blinking 
 watchfulness of his face. 
 
 They had sat there silent and undisturbed for many an 
 evening in fair weather and foul. They had spent many a 
 day in sunshine and storm, gathering the unclaimed spoil 
 of sea and shore. They had kept these mute relations, 
 varied only by the incidents of the hunt or meagre house- 
 hold duties, for three years, ever since the man, wandering 
 moodily over the lonely sands, had fallen upon the half- 
 starved woman lying in the little hollow where she had
 
 56 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 
 
 crawled to die. It had seemed as if they would never b" 
 disturbed, until now, \vhen the Princess started, and, with 
 the instinct of her race, bent her ear to the ground. 
 
 The wind had risen and was rattling the tarred canvas. 
 But in another moment there plainly came from without 
 the hut the sound of voices. Then followed a rap at the 
 door ; then another rap ; and then, before they could rise 
 to their feet, the door was flung briskly open. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said a pleasant but somewhat de- 
 cided contralto voice, " but I don't think you heard me 
 knock. Ah ! I see you did not. May I come in ? " 
 
 There was no reply. Had the battered figurehead of 
 the Goddess of Liberty, which lay deeply embedded in the 
 sand on the beach, suddenly appeared at the door demand- 
 ing admittance, the occupants of the cabin could not have 
 been more speechlessly and hopelessly astonished than at 
 the form which stood in the open doorway. 
 
 It was that of a slim, shapely, elegantly dressed young 
 woman. A scarlet-lined silken hood was half thrown back 
 from the shining mass of the black hair that covered her 
 small head ; from her pretty shoulders dropped a fur cloak, 
 only restrained by a cord and tassel in her small gloved 
 hand. Around her full throat was a double necklace of 
 large white beads, that by some cunning feminine trick 
 relieved with its infantile suggestion the strong decision of 
 her lower face. 
 
 " Did you say yes ? Ah ! thank you. We may come 
 in, Barker." (Here a shadow in a blue army overcoat fol- 
 lowed her into the cabin, touched its cap respectfully, and 
 then stood silent and erect against the wall.) " Don't 
 disturb yourself in the least, I beg. What a distressingly 
 unpleasant night ! Is this your usual climate ? " 
 
 Half graciously, half absently overlooking the still 
 embarrassed silence of the group, she went on: "We 
 started from the fort over three hours ago, three hours
 
 THE PKINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 57 
 
 ago, was n't it, Barker ? " (the erect Barker touched his 
 cap) " to go to Captain Emmons's quarters on Indian 
 Island, I think you call it Indian Island, don't you ? " 
 (she was appealing to the awe-stricken Princess) " and 
 we got into the fog and lost our way ; that is, Barker lost 
 his way " (Barker touched his cap deprecatingly) 
 " and goodness knows where we did n't wander to until 
 we mistook your light for the lighthouse and pulled up 
 here. No, no, pray keep your seat, do ! Really, I must 
 insist." 
 
 Nothing could exceed the languid grace of the latter part 
 of this speech, nothing except the easy unconsciousness 
 with which she glided by the offered chair of her stammer- 
 ing, embarrassed host, and stood beside the open hearth. 
 
 " Barker will tell you," she continued, warming her feet 
 by the fire, " that I am Miss Portfire, daughter of Major 
 Portfire, commanding the post. Ah, excuse me, child ! " 
 (She had accidentally trodden upon the bare yellow toes of 
 the Princess.) " Really, I did not know you were there. 
 I am very near-sighted." (In confirmation of her statement, 
 she put to her eyes a dainty double eyeglass that dangled 
 from her neck.) " It 's a shocking thing to be near-sighted, 
 is n't it ? " 
 
 If the shamefaced uneasy man to whom this remark was 
 addressed could have found words to utter the thought 
 that even in his confusion struggled uppermost in his mind, 
 he would, looking at the bold, dark eyes that questioned 
 him, have denied the fact. But he only stammered, " Yes." 
 The next moment, however, Miss Portfire had apparently 
 forgotten him and was examining the Princess through her 
 glass. 
 
 " And what is your name, child ? " 
 
 The Princess, beatified by the eyes and eyeglass, showed 
 all her white teeth at once, and softly scratched her leg. 
 
 " Bob."
 
 58 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 
 
 " Bob ? What a singular name ! " 
 
 Miss Portfire's host here hastened to explain the origin 
 of the Princess's title. 
 
 "Then you are Bob." (Eyeglass.) 
 
 " No, my name is Grey, John Grey." And he actually 
 achieved a bow where awkwardness was rather the air of 
 imperfectly recalling a forgotten habit. 
 
 "Grey? ah ! let me see. Yes, certainly. You are 
 Mr. Grey, the recluse, the hermit, the philosopher, and all 
 that sort of thing. Why, certainly, Dr. Jones, our surgeon, 
 las told me all about you. Dear me, how interesting a 
 "encontre ! Lived all alone here for seven was it seven 
 pears ? yes, I remember now. Existed quite au naturel, 
 one might say. How odd ! Not that I know anything 
 about that sort of thing, you know. I've lived always 
 among people, and am really quite a stranger, I assure you. 
 But honestly, Mr. I beg your pardon Mr. Grey, how 
 do you like it ? " 
 
 She had quietly taken his chair and thrown her cloak 
 and hood over its back, and was now thoughtfully removing 
 her gloves. Whatever were the arguments, and they 
 were doubtless many and profound, whatever the expe- 
 rience, and it was doubtless hard and satisfying enough, 
 by which this unfortunate man had justified his life for 
 the last seven years, somehow they suddenly became trivial 
 and terribly ridiculous before this simple but practical 
 question. 
 
 "Well, you shall tell me all about it after you have 
 given me something to eat. We will have time enough ; 
 Barker cannot find his way back in this fog to-night. Now 
 don't put yourselves to any trouble on my account. Barker 
 will assist." 
 
 Barker came forward. Glad to escape the scrutiny of 
 his guest, the hermit gave a few rapid directions to the 
 Princess in her native tongue, and 'Msr.opeared in the shed.
 
 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 59 
 
 Left a moment alone, Miss Portfire took a quick, half- 
 audible, feminine inventory of the cabin. " Books, guns, 
 skins, one chair, one bed, no pictures, and no looking- 
 glass ! " She took a book from the swinging shelf and 
 resumed her seat by the fire as the Princess ree'ntered with 
 fresh fuel. But while kneeling on the hearth the Princess 
 chanced to look up, and met Miss Portfire's dark eyes over 
 the edge of her book. 
 
 "Bob!" 
 
 The Princess showed her teeth. 
 
 " Listen ! Would you like to have fine clothes, rings, 
 and beads like these, to have your hair nicely combed and 
 put up so ? Would you ? " 
 
 The Princess nodded violently. 
 
 " Would you like to live with me and have them ? 
 Answer quickly. Don't look round for him. Speak for 
 yourself. Would you ? Hush ! never mind now." 
 
 The hermit ree'ntered, and the Princess, blinking, re- 
 treated into the shadow of the whaleboat shed, from which 
 she did not emerge even when the homely repast of cold 
 venison, ship-biscuit, and tea was served. Miss Portfire 
 noticed her absence. " You really must not let me interfere 
 with your usual simple ways. Do you know this is exceed- 
 ingly interesting to me, so pastoral and patriarchal, and all 
 that sort of thing. I must insist upon the Princess coming 
 back ; really I must." 
 
 But the Princess was not to be found in the shed, and 
 Miss Portfire, who the next minute seemed to have for- 
 gotten all about her, took her place in the single chair be- 
 fore an extemporized table. Barker stood behind her, and 
 the hermit leaned against the fireplace. Miss Portfire's ap- 
 petite did not come up to her protestations. For the first 
 time in seven years it occurred to the hermit that his ordi- 
 nary victual might be improved. He stammered out some 
 thing to that effect.
 
 60 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 
 
 "I have eaten better and worse," said Miss Portfiie 
 quietly. 
 
 " But I thought you that is, you said " - 
 
 " I spent a year in the hospitals, when father was on the 
 Potomac," returned Miss Portfire composedly. After a 
 pause she continued : " You remember after the second Bull 
 R un but, dear me ! I beg your pardon ; of course you 
 know nothing about the war, and all that sort of thing, and 
 don't care." (She put up her eyeglass and quietly sur- 
 veyed his broad, muscular figure against the chimney.) 
 "Or perhaps your prejudices but then, as a hermit, you 
 know, you have no politics, of course. Please don't let me 
 bore you." 
 
 To have been strictly consistent, the hermit should have 
 exhibited no interest in this topic. Perhaps it was owing 
 to some quality in the narrator, but he was constrained to 
 beg her to continue in such phrases as his unfamiliar lips 
 could command. So that, little by little, Miss Portfire 
 yielded up incident and personal observation of the contest 
 then raging ; with the same half-abstracted, half-uncon- 
 cerned air that seemed habitual to her, she told the stories 
 of privation, of suffering, of endurance, and of sacrifice. 
 With the same assumption of timid deference that concealed 
 her great, self-control, she talked of principles and rights. 
 Apparently without enthusiasm and without effort, of which 
 his morbid nature would have been suspicious, she sang the 
 great American Iliad in a way that stirred the depths of her 
 solitary auditor to its massive foundations. Then she 
 stopped and asked quietly, " Where is Bob ? " 
 
 The hermit started. He would look for her. But Bob, 
 for some reason, was not forthcoming. Search was made 
 within and without the hut, but in vain. For the first 
 time that evening Miss Portfire showed some anxiety. 
 " Go," she said to Barker, " and find her. She must be 
 found ; stay, give me your overcoat, I '11 go myself." She
 
 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 61 
 
 threw the overcoat over her shoulders and stepped out into 
 the night. In the thick veil of fog that seemed suddenly 
 to enwrap her, she stood for a moment irresolute, and then 
 walked toward the beach, guided by the low wash of waters 
 on the sand. She had not taken many steps before she 
 stumbled over some dark, crouching object. Beaching down 
 her hand, she felt the coarse, wiry mane of the Princess 
 
 " Bob ! " 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 "Bob. I've been looking for you, come." 
 
 "Go 'way." 
 
 " Nonsense, Bob. I want you to stay with me to-night, 
 come." 
 
 " Injin squaw no good for waugee woman. Go 'way." 
 
 " Listen, Bob. You are daughter of a chief : so am I. 
 Your father had many warriors : so has mine. It is good 
 that you stay with me. Come." 
 
 The Princess chuckled and suffered herself to be lifted 
 up. A few moments later and they reentered the hut, 
 hand in hand. 
 
 With the first red streaks of dawn the next day the erect- 
 Barker touched his cap at the door of the hut. Beside 
 him stood the hermit, also just risen from his blanketed 
 nest in the sand. Forth from the hut, fresh as the morning 
 air, stepped Miss Portfire, leading the Princess by the hand. 
 Hand in hand also they walked to the shore, and when the 
 Princess had been safely bestowed in the stern sheets, Misp 
 Portfire turned and held out her own to her late host. 
 
 " I shall take the best of care of her, of course. You 
 will come and see her often. I should ask you to come 
 And see me, but you are a hermit, you know, and all that 
 sort of thing. But if it 's the correct anchorite thing, and 
 can be done, my father will be glad to requite you for this 
 night's hospitality. But don't do anything on my account 
 that interferes with your simple habits. Good-by."
 
 62 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 
 
 She handed him a card, which he took mechanically. 
 
 Good-by." 
 
 The sail was hoisted, and the boat shoved off. As the 
 fresh morning breeze caught the white canvas it seemed to 
 bow a parting salutation. There was a rosy flush of prom- 
 ise on the water, and as the light craft darted forward 
 toward the ascending sun, it seemed for a moment uplifted 
 in its glory. 
 
 Miss Portfire kept her word. If thoughtful care and in- 
 telligent kindness could regenerate the Princess, her future 
 was secure. And it really seemed as if she were for the 
 first time inclined to heed the lessons of civilization, and 
 profit by her new condition. ATI agreeable change was first 
 noticed in her appearance. Her laAvless hair was caught in 
 a net, and no longer strayed over her low forehead. Her 
 unstable bust was stayed and upheld by French corsets ; 
 her plantigrade shuffle was limited by heeled boots. Her 
 dresses were neat and clean, and she wore a double necklace 
 of glass beads With this physical improvement there also 
 seemed some moral awakening. She no longer stole nor 
 lied. With the possession of personal property came a 
 respect for that of others. Witlj increased dependence on 
 the word of those about her came a thoughtful consideration 
 of her own. Intellectually she was still feeble, although she 
 grappled sturdily with the simple lessons which Miss Port- 
 fire set before her. But her zeal and simple vanity outran 
 her discretion, and she would often sit for hours with an 
 open book before her, which she could not read. She was a 
 favorite with the officers at the fort, from the Major, who 
 shared his daughter's prejudices and often yielded to her 
 powerful self-will, to the subalterns, who liked her none the 
 less that their natural enemies, the frontier volunteers, had 
 declared war against her helpless sisterhood. The only 
 restraint put upon her was the limitation of her liberty to
 
 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 63 
 
 the inclosure of the fort and parade ; and only once did she 
 break this parole, and was stopped by the sentry as she 
 stepped into a boat at the landing. 
 
 The recluse did not avail himself of Miss Portfire's invi- 
 tation. But after the departure of the Princess he spent 
 less of his time in the hut, and was more frequently seen in 
 the distant marshes of Eel River and on the upland hills. 
 A feverish restlessness, quite opposed to his usual phlegm, 
 led him into singular freaks strangely inconsistent with his 
 usual habits and reputation. The purser of the occasional 
 steamer which stopped at Logport with the mails reported 
 to have been boarded, just inside the bar, by a strange, 
 bearded man, who asked for a newspaper containing the last 
 war telegrams. He tore his red shirt into narrow strips, 
 and spent two days with his needle over the pieces and the 
 tattered remnant of his only white garment ; and a few days 
 afterward the fishermen on the bay were surprised to see 
 what, on nearer approach, proved to be a rude imitation of 
 the national flag floating from a spar above the hut. 
 
 One evening, as the fog began to drift over the sand-hills, 
 the recluse sat alone in his hut. The fire was dying un- 
 heeded on the hearth, for he had been sitting there for a 
 long time, completely absorbed in the blurred pages of an 
 old newspaper. Presently he arose, and, refolding it, an 
 operation of great care and delicacy in its tattered condition, 
 placed it under the blankets of his bed. He resumed 
 his seat by the fire, but soon began drumming with his fin- 
 gers on the arm of his chair. Eventually this assumed the 
 time and accent of some air. Then he began to Avhistle 
 softly and hesitatingly, as if trying to recall a forgotten tune. 
 Finally this took shape in a rude resemblance, not unlike 
 that which his flag bore to the national standard, to Yankee 
 Doodle. Suddenly he stopped. 
 
 There was an unmistakable rapping at the door. The 
 blood which had at first rushed to his face now forsook it
 
 64 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 
 
 and settled slowly around his heart. He tried to rise, "but 
 could not. Then the door was flung open, and a figure 
 with a scarlet-lined hood and fur mantle stood on the 
 threshold. With a mighty effort he took one stride to 
 the door. The next moment he saw the wide mouth and 
 white teeth of the Princess, and was greeted by a kiss that 
 felt like a baptism. 
 
 To tear the hood and mantle from her figure in the 
 sudden fury that seized him, and to fiercely demand the 
 reason of this masquerade, was his only return to her greet- 
 ing. " Why are you here ? did you steal these garments ? " 
 he again demanded in her guttural language, as he shook 
 her roughly by the arm. The Princess hung her head. 
 " Did you ? " he screamed, as he reached wildly for his 
 rifle. 
 
 " I did." 
 
 His hold relaxed, and he staggered back against the wall. 
 The Princess began to whimper. Between her sobs, she 
 was trying to explain that the Major .and his daughter 
 were going away, and that they wanted to send her to 
 the Reservation ; but he cut her short. " Take off those 
 things ! " The Princess tremblingly obeyed. He rolled 
 them up, placed them in the canoe she had just left, and 
 then leaped into the frail craft. She would have followed, 
 but with a great oath he threw her from him, and with 
 one stroke of his paddle swept out into the fog, and was 
 gone. 
 
 " Jessamy," said the Major, a few days after, as he sat 
 at dinner with his daughter, " I think I can tell you some- 
 thing to match the mysterious disappearance and return of 
 your wardrobe. Your crazy friend, the recluse, has enlisted 
 this morning in the Fourth Artillery. He's a splendid- 
 looking animal, and there 's the right stuff for a soldier in 
 him, if I 'm not mistaken. He 's in earnest too, for he 
 eulists in the regiment ordered back to Washington. Bless
 
 THE PRINCESS BOB AND HER FRIENDS 65 
 
 me, child, another goblet broken ! yon '11 ruin the mess in 
 glassware, at this rate." 
 
 " Have you heard anything more of the Princess, papa ? " 
 
 "Nothing; but perhaps it's as well that she has gone. 
 These cursed settlers are at their old complaints again 
 about what they call ' Indian depredations,' and I have 
 just received orders from headquarters to keep the settle- 
 ment clear of all vagabond aborigines. I am afraid, my 
 dear, that a strict construction of the term would include 
 your protegee." 
 
 The time for the departure of the Fourth Artillery had 
 come. The night before was thick and foggy. At one 
 o'clock a shot on the ramparts called out the guard and 
 roused the sleeping garrison. The new sentry, Private 
 Grey, had challenged a dusky figure creeping on the glacis, 
 and, receiving no answer, had fired. The guard sent out 
 presently returned, bearing a lifeless figure in their arms. 
 The new sentry's zeal, joined with an ex-frontiersman's 
 aim, was fatal. 
 
 They laid the helpless, ragged form before the guard- 
 house door, and then saw for the first time that it was the 
 Princess. Presently she opened her eyes. They fell upon 
 the agonized face of her innocent slayer, but haply without 
 intelligence or reproach. 
 
 " Georgy ! " she whispered. 
 
 " Bob ! " 
 
 " All 's same now. Me get plenty well soon. Me make 
 no more fuss. Me go to Keservation." 
 
 Then she stopped, a tremor ran through her limbs, and 
 she lay still. She had gone to the Reservation. Not that 
 devised by the wisdom of man, but that one set apart from 
 the foundation of the world, for the wisest as well as the 
 meanest of His creatures.
 
 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S 
 BAR 
 
 IT had been raining in the valley of the Sacramento. 
 The North Fork had overflowed its banks, and Rattlesnake 
 Creek was impassable. The few boulders that had marked 
 the summer ford at Simpson's Crossing were obliterated 
 by a vast sheet of water stretching to the foothills. The 
 up-stage was stopped at Granger's ; the last mail had been 
 abandoned in the tules, the rider swimming for his life. 
 " An area," remarked the " Sierra Avalanche," with pensive 
 local pride, " as large as the State of Massachusetts is now 
 under water." 
 
 Nor was the weather any better in the foothills. The 
 mud lay deep on the mountain road ; wagons that neither 
 physical force nor moral objurgation could move from the 
 evil ways into which they had fallen encumbered the track, 
 and the way to Simpson's Bar was indicated by broken- 
 down teams and hard swearing. And further on, cut off 
 and inaccessible, rained upon and bedraggled, smitten by 
 high winds and threatened by high water, Simpson's Bar, 
 on the eve of Christmas Day, 1862, clung like a swallow's 
 nest to the rocky entablature and splintered capitals of 
 Table Mountain, and shook in the blast. 
 
 As night shut down on the settlement, a few lights 
 gleamed through the mist from the windows of cabins on 
 either side of the highway, now crossed and gullied by 
 lawless streams and swept by marauding winds. Happily 
 most of the population were gathered at Thompson's store, 
 clustered around a redhot stove, at which they silently spat
 
 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 6? 
 
 in some accepted sense of social communion that perhaps 
 rendered conversation unnecessary. Indeed, most methods 
 of diversion had long since been exhausted on Simpson's 
 Bar ; high water had suspended the regular occupations on 
 gulch and on river, and a consequent lack of money and 
 whiskey had taken the zest from most illegitimate recrea- 
 tion. Even Mr. Hamlin was fain to leave the Bar with 
 fifty dollars in his pocket the only amount actually real- 
 ized of the large sums won by him in the successful ex- 
 ercise of his arduous profession. " Ef I was asked," he 
 remarked somewhat later, "ef I was asked to pint out 
 a purty little village where a retired sport as did n't care 
 for money could exercise hisself, frequent and lively, I 'd 
 say Simpson's Bar ; but for a young man with a large 
 family depending on his exertions, it don't pay." As Mr. 
 Hamlin's family consisted mainly of female adults, this 
 remark is quoted rather to show the breadth of his humor 
 than the exact extent of his responsibilities. 
 
 Howbeit, the unconscious objects of this satire sat that 
 evening in the listless apathy begotten of idleness and lack 
 of excitement. Even the sudden splashing of hoofs before 
 the door did not arouse them. Dick Bullen alone paused 
 in the act of scraping out his pipe, and lifted his head, but 
 no other one of the group indicated any interest in, or 
 recognition of, the man who entered. 
 
 It was a figure familiar enough to the company, and 
 known in Simpson's Bar as " The Old Man." A man of 
 perhaps fifty years ; grizzled and scant of hair, but still 
 fresh and youthful of complexion. A face full of ready 
 but not very powerful sympathy, with a chameleon-like 
 aptitude for taking on the shade and color of contiguous 
 moods and feelings. He had evidently just left some 
 hilarious companions, and did not at first notice the gravity 
 of the group, but clapped the shoulder of the nearest man 
 jocularly, and threw himself into a vacant chair.
 
 68 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 
 
 "Jest heard the best thing out, boys ! Ye know Smiley,. 
 over yar Jim Smiley funniest man in the Bar ? Well, 
 Jim was jest telling the richest yarn about " 
 
 " Smiley 's a fool," interrupted a gloomy voice. 
 
 " A particular skunk," added another in sepulchral 
 
 accents. 
 
 A silence followed these positive statements. The Old 
 Man glanced quickly around the group. Then his face 
 slowly changed. " That 's so," he said reflectively, after a 
 pause, " certainly a sort of a skunk and suthin' of a fool. 
 In course." He was silent for a moment, as in painful 
 contemplation of the unsavoriness and folly of the un- 
 popular Smiley. " Dismal weather, ain't it ? " he added, 
 now fully embarked on the current of prevailing sentiment. 
 " Mighty rough papers on the boys, and no show for money 
 this season. And to-morrow 's Christmas." 
 
 There was a movement among the men at this announce- 
 ment, but whether of satisfaction or disgust was not plain. 
 " Yes," continued the Old Man in the lugubrious tone he 
 had, within the last few moments, unconsciously adopted, 
 "yes, Christmas, and to-night's Christmas Eve. Ye see, 
 boys, I kinder thought that is, I sorter had an idee, jest 
 passin' like, you know that maybe ye 'd all like to come 
 over to my house to-night and have a sort of tear round. 
 But I suppose, now, you would n't ? Don't feel like it, 
 maybe ? " he added with anxious sympathy, peering into 
 the faces of his companions. 
 
 " Well, I don't know," responded Tom Flynn with some 
 cheerfulness. " P'r'aps we may. But how about your wife, 
 Old Man ? What does she say to it ? " 
 
 The Old Man hesitated. His conjugal experience had 
 not been a happy one, and the fact was known to Simpson's 
 Bar. His first wife, a delicate, pretty little woman, had 
 suffered keenly and secretly from the jealous suspicions of 
 her husband, until one day he invited the whole Bar to his
 
 HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 63 
 
 house to expose her infidelity. On arriving, the party found 
 the shy, petite creature quietly engaged in her household 
 duties, and retired abashed and discomfited. But the sensi- 
 tive woman did not easily recover from the shock of this 
 extraordinary outrage. It was with difficulty she regained 
 her equanimity sufficiently to release her lover from the 
 closet in which he was concealed, and escape with him. 
 She left a boy of three years to comfort her bereaved hus- 
 band. The Old Man's present wife had been his cook. 
 She was large, loyal, and aggressive. 
 
 Before he could reply, Joe Dimmick suggested with 
 great directness that it was the " Old Man's house," and 
 that, invoking the Divine Power, if the case were his own, 
 he would invite whom he pleased, even if in so doing he 
 imperiled his salvation. The Powers of Evil, he further 
 remarked, should contend against him vainly. All this 
 delivered with a terseness and vigor lost in this necessary 
 translation. 
 
 " In course. Certainly. Thet 's it," said the Old Man 
 with a sympathetic frown. " Thar 's no trouble about thet. 
 It 's my own house, built every stick on it myself. Don't 
 you be afeard o' her, boys. She may cut up a trifle rough 
 ez wimmin do but she '11 come round." Secretly 
 the Old Man trusted to the exaltation of liquor and the 
 power of courageous example to sustain him in such an 
 emergency. 
 
 As yet, Dick Bullen, the oraule and leader of Simpson's 
 Bar, had not spoken. He now took his pipe from his lips, 
 " Old Man, how 's that yer Johnny gettin' on ? Seems to 
 me he did n't look so peart last time I seed him on the 
 bluff heavin' rocks at' Chinamen. Did n't seem to take 
 much interest in it. Thar was a gang of 'em by yar yester- 
 day drownded out up the river and I kinder thought 
 o' Johnny, and how he 'd miss 'em ! Maybe now- we 'd be 
 in the way ef he wus sick ? "
 
 70 HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON S BAR 
 
 The father, evidently touched not only by this pathetic 
 picture of Johnny's deprivation, but by the considerate deli- 
 cacy of the speaker, hastened to assure him that Johnny 
 was better, and that a "little fun might 'liven him up." 
 Whereupon Dick arose, shook himself, and saying, "I'm 
 ready. Lead the way, Old Man : here goes," himself led 
 the way with a leap, a characteristic howl, and darted out 
 into the night. As he passed through the outer room he 
 caught up a blazing brand from the hearth. The action 
 was repeated by the rest of the party, closely following 
 and elbowing each other, and before the astonished propri- 
 etor of Thompson's grocery was aware of the intention of 
 his guests, the room was deserted. 
 
 The night was pitchy dark. In the first gust of wind 
 their temporary torches were extinguished, and only the red 
 brands dancing and flitting in the gloom like drunken M'ill- 
 o'-the-wisps indicated their whereabouts. Their way led 
 up Pine-Tree Canon, at the head of which a broad, low, 
 bark-thatched cabin burrowed in the mountain-side. It 
 was the home of the Old Man, and the entrance to the 
 tunnel in which he worked when he worked at all. Here 
 the crowd paused for a moment, out of delicate deference 
 to their host, who came up panting in the rear. 
 
 " P'r'aps ye 'd better hold on a second out yer, whilst 1 
 go in and see that things is all right," said the Old Man, 
 with an indifference he was far from feeling. The sugges- 
 tion was graciously accepted, the door opened and closed on 
 the host, and the crowd, leaning their backs against the 
 wall and cowering under the eaves, waited and listened. 
 
 For a few moments there was no sound but the dripping 
 of water from the eaves, and the stir 'and rustle of wrestling 
 boughs above them. Then the men became uneasy, and 
 whispered suggestion and suspicion passed from the one to 
 the other. "Reckon she's caved in his head the first 
 lick!" "Decoyed him inter the tunnel and barred him
 
 HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 71 
 
 up, likely." " Got him down and sittin' on him." " Prob'ly 
 biling suthin' to heave on us : stand clear the door, boys ! " 
 For just then the latch clicked, the door slowly opened, 
 and a voice said, " Come in out o' the wet." 
 
 The voice was neither that of the Old Man nor of his 
 wife. It was the voice of a small boy, its weak treble 
 broken by that preternatural hoarseness which only vaga- 
 bondage and the habit of premature self-assertion can give. 
 It was the face of a small boy that looked up at theirs, 
 a face that might have been pretty, and even refined, but 
 that it was darkened by evil knowledge from within, and 
 dirt and hard experience from without. He had a blanket 
 around his shoulders, and had evidently just risen from his 
 bed. "Come in," he repeated, "and don't make no noise. 
 The Old Man 's in there talking to mar," he continued, 
 pointing to an adjacent room which seemed to be a kitchen, 
 from Avhich the Old Man's voice came in deprecating ac- 
 cents. " Let me be," he added querulously, to Dick Bul- 
 len, who had caught him up, blanket and all, and was 
 affecting to toss him into the fire, " let go o' me, you d d 
 old fool, d' ye hear ? " 
 
 Thus adjured, Dick Bullen lowered Johnny to the 
 ground with a smothered laugh, while the men, entering 
 quietly, ranged themselves around a long table of rough 
 boards which occupied the centre of the room. Johnny 
 then gravely proceeded to a cupboard and brought out sev- 
 eral articles, which he deposited on the table. "Thar's 
 whiskey. And crackers. And red herons. And cheese." 
 He took a bite of the latter on his way to the table. " And 
 sugar." He scooped up a mouthful en route with a small 
 and very dirty hand. " And terbacker. Thar 's dried 
 appils too on the shelf, but I don't admire 'em. Appils is 
 swellin'. Thar," he concluded, "now wade in, and don't 
 be afeard. / don't mind the old woman. She don't b'long 
 to me. S'long."
 
 72 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME TO SIMPSONS BAR 
 
 He had stepped to the threshold of a small room, scarcely 
 larger than a closet, partitioned off from the main apart- 
 ment, and holding in its dim recess a small bed. He stood 
 there a moment looking at the company, his bare feet peep- 
 ing from the blanket, and nodded. 
 
 " Hello, Johnny ! You ain't goin' to turn in agin, are 
 ye ? " said Dick. 
 
 " Yes, I are," responded Johnny decidedly. 
 
 " Why, wot 's up, old fellow ? " 
 
 " I 'm sick." 
 
 " How sick ? " 
 
 " I 've got a fevier. And childblains. And roomatiz," 
 returned Johnny, and vanished within. After a moment's 
 pause, he added in the dark, apparently from under the 
 bedclothes, " And biles ! " 
 
 There was an embarrassing silence. The men looked at 
 each other and at the fire. Even with the appetizing ban- 
 quet before them, it seemed as if they might again fall into 
 the despondency of Thompson's grocery, when the voice of 
 the Old Man, incautiously lifted, came deprecatingly from 
 the kitchen. 
 
 " Certainly ! Thet 's so. In course they is. A gang 
 o' lazy, drunken loafers, and that ar Dick Bullen 's the 
 ornariest of all. Did n't hev no more sabe than to come 
 round yar with sickness in the house and no provision. 
 Thet 's what I said : ' Bullen,' sez I, ' it 's crazy drunk you 
 are, or a fool,' sez I, 'to think o' such a thing.' < Staples,' 
 I sez, 'be you a man, Staples, and 'spect to raise h 11 
 under my roof and invalids lyin' round ? ' But they would 
 come, they would. Thet 's wot you must 'spect o' such 
 trash as lays round the Bar." 
 
 A burst of laughter from the men followed this unfortu- 
 nate exposure. Whether it was overheard in the kitchen, 
 or whether the Old Man's irate companion had just then 
 exhausted all other modes of expressing her contemptuous
 
 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 73 
 
 indignation, I cannot say, but a back door was suddenly 
 slammed with great violence. A moment later and the 
 Old Man reappeared, haply unconscious of the cause of the 
 late hilarious outburst, and smiled blandly. 
 
 " The old woman thought she 'd jest run over to Mrs. 
 MacFadden's for a sociable call," he explained with jaunty 
 indifference, as he took a seat at the board. 
 
 Oddly enough it needed this untoward incident to re- 
 lieve the embarrassment that was beginning to be felt by 
 the party, and their natural audacity returned with their 
 host. I do not propose to record the convivialities of that 
 evening. The inquisitive reader will accept the statement 
 that the conversation was characterized by the same intel- 
 lectual exaltation, the same cautious reverence, the same 
 fastidious delicacy, the same rhetorical precision, and the 
 same logical and coherent discourse somewhat later in the 
 evening, which distinguish similar gatherings of the mascu- 
 line sex in more civilized localities and under more favor- 
 able auspices. No glasses were broken in the absence of 
 any ; no liquor was uselessly spilt on the floor or table in 
 the scarcity of that article. 
 
 It was nearly midnight when the festivities were inter- 
 rupted. " Hush," said Dick Bullen, holding up his hand. 
 It was the querulous voice of Johnny from his adjacent 
 closet : " dad ! " 
 
 The Old Man arose hurriedly and disappeared in the 
 closet. Presently he reappeared. " His rheumatiz is com- 
 ing on agin bad," he explained, "and he wants rubbin'." 
 He lifted the demijohn of whiskey from the table and 
 shook it. It was empty. Dick Bullen put down his tin 
 cup with an embarrassed laugh. So did the others. The 
 Old Man examined their contents and said hopefully, " I 
 reckon that 's enough ; he don't need much. You hold on 
 all o' you for a spell, and I '11 be back ; " and vanished in 
 the closet with an old flannel shirt and the whiskey. The
 
 74 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 
 door closed but imperfectly, and the following dialogue was 
 distinctly audible : 
 
 " Now, sonny, whar does she ache worst ? " 
 
 " Sometimes over yar and sometimes under yer ; but it 's 
 most powerful from yer to yer. Rub yer, dad." 
 
 A silence seemed to indicate a brisk rubbing. Then 
 Johnny : 
 
 " Hevin' a good time out yer, dad ? " 
 
 " Yes, sonny." 
 
 " To-morrer 's Chrism iss, ain't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, sonny. How does she feel now ? " 
 
 " Better. Rub a little furder down. Wot 's Chrismiss, 
 anyway ? Wot 's it all about ? " 
 
 " Oh, it 's a day." 
 
 This exhaustive definition was apparently satisfactory, for 
 there was a silent interval of rubbing. Presently Johnny 
 again : 
 
 " Mar sez that everywhere else but yer everybody gives 
 things to everybody Chrismiss, and then shejist waded inter 
 you. She sez thar 's a man they call Sandy Claws, not a 
 white man, you know, but a kind o' Chinemin, comes down 
 the chimbley night afore Chrismiss and gives things to 
 chillern, boys like me. Puts 'em in their butes ! Thet 's 
 what she tried to play upon me. Easy now, pop, whar are 
 you rubbin' to, thet 's a mile from the place. She jest 
 made that up, did n't she, jest to aggrewate me and you ? 
 Don't rub thar. . . . Why, dad ! " 
 
 In the great quiet that seemed to have fallen upon the 
 house the sigh of the near pines and the drip of leaves 
 without was very distinct. Johnny's voice, too, was 
 lowered as he went on, " Don't you take on now, for I 'm 
 gettin' all right fast. Wot 's the boys doin' out thar ? " 
 
 The Old Man partly opened the door and peered through. 
 His guests were sitting there sociably enough, and there 
 vere a few silver coins and a lean buckskin purse on the
 
 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 75 
 
 table. " Bettin' on suthin' some little game or 'nother 
 They 're all right," he replied to Johnny, and recommenced 
 his rubbing. 
 
 " I 'd like to take a hand and win some money/' said 
 Johnny reflectively after a pause. 
 
 The Old Man glibly repeated what was evidently a 
 familiar formula, that if Johnny would wait until he struck 
 it rich in the tunnel he 'd have lots of money, etc., etc. 
 
 " Yes," -said Johnny, "but you don't. And whether 
 you strike it or I win it, it 's atxmt the same. It 's all 
 luck. But it 's mighty cur'o's about Chrismiss ain't it ? 
 Why do they call it Chrismiss ? " 
 
 Perhaps from some instinctive deference to the overhear- 
 ing of his guests, or from some vague sense of incongruity, 
 the Old Man's reply was so low as to be inaudible beyond 
 the room. 
 
 " Yes," said Johnny, with some slight abatement of 
 interest, " I 've heerd o' him before. Thar, that '11 do, 
 dad. I don't ache near so bad as I did. Now wrap me 
 tight in this yer blanket. So. Now," he added in a 
 muffled whisper, " sit down yer by me till I go asleep." 
 To assure himself of obedience, he disengaged one hand 
 from the blanket, and, grasping his father's sleeve, again 
 composed himself to rest. 
 
 For some moments the Old Man waited patiently. Then 
 the unwonted stillness of the house excited his curiosity, 
 and without moving from the bed he cautkmsly opened the 
 door with his disengaged hand, and looked into the main 
 room. To >his infinite surprise it was dark and deserted. 
 But even then a smouldering log on the hearth broke, and 
 by the upspringing blaze he saw the figure of Dick Bullen 
 sitting by the dying embers. 
 
 "Hello.!" 
 
 Dick started, rose, and came somewhat unsteadily toward 
 him.
 
 76 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME T& SIMPSON'S BAR 
 
 '- Whar 's the boys ? " said the Old Man. 
 
 "Gone up the canon on a little pasear. They 're 
 coming back for me in a minit. I 'm waitin' round for 'era. 
 What are you starin' at, Old Man ? " he added, with a 
 forced laugh ; " do you think I 'm drunk ? " 
 
 The Old Man might have been pardoned the supposition, 
 for Dick's eyes were humid and his face flushed. He 
 loitered and lounged back to the chimney, yawned, shook 
 himself, buttoned up his coat and laughed. " Liquor ain't 
 so plenty as that. Old Man. Now don't you git up," he 
 continued, as the Old Man made a movement to release his 
 sleeve from Johnny's hand. " Don't you mind manners. 
 Sit jest whar you be ; I 'm goin' in a jiffy. Thar, that 's 
 them now." 
 
 There was a low tap at the door. Dick Bullen opened 
 it quickly, nodded "Good- night" to his host, and disap- 
 peared. The Old Man would have followed him but for 
 the hand that still unconsciously grasped his sleeve. He 
 could have easily disengaged it : it was small, weak, and 
 emaciated. But perhaps because it was small, weak, and 
 emaciated he changed his mind, and, drawing his chair 
 closer to the bed, rested his head upon it. In this defense- 
 less attitude the potency of his earlier potations surprised 
 him. The room flickered and faded before his eyes, reap- 
 peared, faded again, went out, and left him asleep. 
 
 Meantime Dick Bullen, closing the door, confronted his 
 companions. " Are you ready ? " said Staples. " Ready," 
 said Dick ; " what 's the time ? " " Past twelve," was the 
 reply ; " can you make it ? it 's nigh on fifty miles, the 
 round trip hither and yon." "I reckon," returned Dick 
 shortly. "Whar's the mare?" "Bill and Jack's 
 holdin' her at the crossin'." " Let 'em hold on a minit 
 longer/' said Dick. 
 
 He turned and reentered the house softly. By the light 
 of the guttering candle and dying fire he saw that the door
 
 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 77 
 
 of the little room was open. He stepped toward it on tip- 
 toe and looked in. The Old Man had fallen back in his 
 chair, snoring, his helpless feet thrust out in a line with his 
 collapsed shoulders, and his hat pulled over his eyes. 
 Beside him, on a narrow wooden bedstead, lay Johnny, 
 muffled tightly in a blanket that hid all save a strip of 
 forehead and a few curls damp with perspiration. Dick 
 Bullen made a step forward, hesitated, and glanced over his 
 shoulder into the deserted room. Everything was quiet. 
 With a sudden resolution he parted his huge mustaches 
 with both hands and stooped over the sleeping boy. But 
 even as he did so a mischievous blast, lying in wait, swooped 
 down the chimney, rekindled the hearth, and lit up the 
 room with a shameless glow from which Dick fled in bash- 
 ful terror. 
 
 His companions were already waiting for him at the 
 crossing. Two of them were struggling in the darkness 
 with some strange misshapen bulk, which as Dick came 
 nearer took the semblance of a great yellow horse. 
 
 It was the mare. She was not a pretty picture. From 
 her Roman nose to her rising haunches, from her arched 
 spine hidden by the stiff machillas of a Mexican saddle, to 
 her thick, straight bony legs, there was not a line of equine 
 grace. In her half-blind but wholly vicious white eyes, in 
 her protruding under-lip, in her monstrous color, there was 
 nothing but ugliness and vice. 
 
 " Now then," said Staples, " stand cl'ar of her heels, 
 boys, and up with you. Don't miss your first holt of her 
 mane, and mind ye get your off stirrup quick. Ready ! " 
 
 There was a leap, a scrambling struggle, a bound, a wild 
 retreat of the crowd, a circle of flying hoofs, two springless 
 ieaps that jarred the earth, a rapid play and jingle of spurs, 
 a plunge, and then the voice of Dick somewhere in the 
 darkness. " All right ! " 
 
 u Don't take the lower road back onless you 're hard
 
 78 HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 
 
 pushed for time ! Don't hold her in down hill We '11 be 
 at the ford at five. Gr'lang ! Hoopa ! Mula ! GO ! " 
 
 A splash, a spark struck from the ledge in the road, a 
 clatter in the rocky cut beyond, and Dick was gone. 
 
 Sing, Muse, the ride of Eichard Bullen ! Sing, 
 Muse, of chivalrous men ! the sacred quest, the doughty 
 deeds, the battery of low churls, the fearsome ride and grue- 
 some perils of the Flower of Simpson's Bar ! Alack ! she 
 is dainty, this Muse ! She will have none of this bucking 
 brute and swaggering, ragged rider, and I must fain follow 
 him in prose, afoot ! 
 
 It was one o'clock, and yet he had only gained Rattle- 
 snake Hill. For in that time Jovita had rehearsed to him 
 all her imperfections and practiced all her vices. Thrice 
 had she stumbled. Twice had she thrown up her Eoman 
 nose in a straight line with the reins, and, resisting bit and 
 spur, struck out madly across country. Twice had she 
 reared, and, rearing, fallen backward ; and twice had the 
 agile Dick, unharmed, regained his seat before she found 
 her vicious legs again. And a mile beyond them, at the 
 foot of a long hill, was Rattlesnake Creek. Dick knew that 
 here was the crucial test of his ability to perform his enter- 
 prise, set his teeth grimly, put his knees well into her 
 flanks, and changed his defensive tactics to brisk aggression. 
 Bullied and maddened, Jovita began the descent of the hill. 
 Here the artful Richard pretended to hold her in with 
 ostentatious objurgation and well-feigned cries of alarm. 
 It is unnecessary to add that Jovita instantly ran away. 
 Nor need I state the time made in the descent ; it is written 
 in the chronicles of Simpson's Bar. Enough that in another 
 moment, as it seemed to Dick, she was splashing on the 
 overflowed banks of Rattlesnake Creek. As Dick expected, 
 the momentum she had acquired earned her beyond the 
 point of balking, and, holding her well together for a
 
 HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 79 
 
 mighty leap, they dashed into the middle of the swiftly 
 flowing current. A few moments of kicking, wading, and 
 swimming, and Dick drew a long breath on the opposite 
 bank. 
 
 The road from Eattlesnake Creek to Bed Mountain was 
 tolerably level. Either the plunge in Eattlesnake Creek 
 had dampened her baleful fire, or the art which led to it 
 had shown her the superior wickedness of her rider, for 
 Jovita no longer wasted her surplus energy in wanton con- 
 ceits. Once she bucked, but it was from force of habit ; 
 once she shied, but it was from a new, freshly painted meet- 
 ing-house at the crossing of the county road. Hollows, 
 ditches, gravelly deposits, patches of freshly springing grasses, 
 flew from beneath her rattling hoofs. She began to smell 
 unpleasantly, once or twice she coughed slightly, but there 
 was no abatement of her strength or speed. By two o'clock 
 he had passed Red Mountain and begun the descent to 
 the plain. Ten minutes later the driver of the fast Pioneer 
 coach was overtaken and passed by a " man on a Pinto 
 hoss," an event sufficiently notable for remark. At half 
 past two Dick rose in 'his stirrups with a great shout. Stars 
 were glittering through the rifted clouds, and beyond him, 
 out of the plain, rose two spires, a flagstaff, and a straggling 
 line of black objects. Dick jingled his spurs and swung 
 his ri<tta., Jovita bounded forward, and in another moment 
 they swept into Tuttleville, and di'ew up before the wooden 
 piazza of "The Hotel of All Nations." 
 
 What transpired that night at Tuttleville is not strictly a 
 part of this record. Briefly I may state, however, that after 
 Jovita had been handed over to a sleepy ostler, whom she 
 at once kicked into unpleasant consciousness, Dick sallied 
 out with the barkeeper for a tour of the sleeping town. 
 Lights still gleamed from a few saloons and gambling-houses ; 
 but, avoiding these, they stopped before several closed shops, 
 and by persistent tapping and judicious outcry roused the
 
 80 HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME TO SIMPSONS BAtt 
 
 proprietors from their beds, and made them unbar the doors 
 of their magazines and expose their wares. Sometimes they 
 were met by curses, but oftener by interest and some con- 
 cern in their needs, and the interview was invariably con- 
 cluded by a drink. It was three o'clock before this pleas 
 antry was given over, and with a small waterproof bag of 
 India-rubber strapped on his shoulders, Dick returned tc 
 the hotel. But here he was waylaid by Beauty, Beauty 
 opulent in charms, affluent in dress, persuasive in speech, 
 and Spanish in accent ! In vain she repeated the invitation 
 in " Excelsior," happily scorned by all Alpine-climbing 
 youth, and rejected by this child of the Sierras, a rejection 
 softened in this instance by a laugh and his last gold coin. 
 And then he sprang to the saddle and dashed down the 
 lonely street and out into the lonelier plain, where presently 
 the lights, the black line of houses, the spires, and the flag- 
 staff sank into the earth behind him again and were lost in 
 the distance. 
 
 The storm had cleared away, the air was brisk and cold, 
 the outlines of adjacent landmarks were distinct, but it was 
 half-past four before Dick reached the meeting-house and 
 the crossing of the county road. To avoid the rising grade 
 he had taken a longer and more circuitous road, in whose 
 viscid mud Jovita sank fetlock deep at every bound. It 
 was a poor preparation for a steady ascent of five miles 
 more ; but Jovita, gathering her legs under her, took it 
 with her usual blind, unreasoning fury, and a half-hour later 
 reached the long level that led to Rattlesnake Creek. 
 Another half-hour would bring him to the creek. He threw 
 the reins lightly upon the neck of the mare, chirruped to 
 her, and began to sing. 
 
 Suddenly Jovita shied with a bound that would have 
 unseated a less practiced rider. Hanging to her rein was a 
 figure that had leaped from the bank, and at the same time 
 from the road before her arose a shadowy horsf and rider
 
 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 81 
 
 " Throw tip your hands/' commanded the second appari- 
 tion, with an oath. 
 
 Dick felt the mare tremble, quiver, and apparently sink 
 under him. He knew what it meant and was prepared. 
 
 " Stand aside, Jack Simpson. I know you, you d d 
 thief ! Let me pass, or " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence. Jovita rose straight in 
 the air with a terrific bound, throwing the figure from her 
 bit with a single shake of her vicious head, and charged 
 with deadly malevolence down on the impediment before 
 her. An oath, a pistol-shot, horse and highwayman rolled 
 over in the road, and the next moment Jovita was a hundred 
 yards away. But the good right arm of her rider, shattered 
 by a bullet, dropped helplessly at his side. 
 
 Without slacking his speed he shifted the reins to his left 
 hand. But a few moments later he was obliged to halt and 
 tighten the saddle-girths that had slipped in the onset. 
 This in his crippled condition took some time. He had 
 no fear of pursuit, but looking up he saw that the eastern 
 stars were already paling, and that the distant peaks had 
 lost their ghostly whiteness, and now stood out blackly 
 against a lighter sky. Day was upon him. Then com- 
 pletely absorbed in a single idea, he forgot the pain of his 
 wound, and mounting again dashed on toward Rattlesnake 
 Creek. But now Jovita's breath came broken by gasps, 
 Dick reeled in his saddle, and brighter and brighter grew 
 the sky. 
 
 Ride, Richard ; run, Jovita ; linger, day ! 
 
 For the last few rods there was a roaring in his ears. 
 Was it exhaustion from loss of blood, or what ? He was 
 dazed and giddy as he swept down the hill, and did not 
 recognize his surroundings. Had he taken the wrong road, 
 or was this Rattlesnake Creek ? 
 
 It was. But the brawling creek he had swam a few 
 hurs before had risen, more than doubled its volume, and
 
 82 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME TO SIMPSONS BAR 
 
 now rolled a swift and resistless river between him and 
 Rattlesnake Hill. For the first time that night Richard's 
 heart sank within him. The river, the mountain, the 
 quickening east, swam before his eyes. He shut them to 
 recover his self-control. In that brief interval, by some 
 fantastic mental process, the little room at Simpson's Bar 
 and the figures of the sleeping father and son rose upon 
 him. He opened his eyes wildly, cast off his coat, pistol, 
 boots, and saddle, bound his precious pack tightly to his 
 shoulders, grasped the bare flanks of Jovita with his bared 
 knees, and with a shout dashed into the yellow water. A 
 cry rose from the opposite bank as the head of a man and 
 horse struggled for a few moments against the battling cur- 
 rent, and then were swept away amidst uprooted trees and 
 whirling driftwood. 
 
 The Old Man started and woke. The fire on the hearth 
 was dead, the candle in the outer room flickering in its 
 socket, and somebody was rapping at the door. He opened 
 it, but fell back with a cry before the dripping, half-naked 
 figure that reeled against the doorpost. 
 
 " Dick ? " 
 
 " Hush ! Is he awake yet ? " 
 
 " No ; but, Dick " 
 
 " Dry up, you old fool ! Get me some whiskey, quick ! " 
 The Old Man flew and returned with an empty bottle ! 
 Dick would have sworn, but his strength was not equal to 
 the occasion. He staggered, caught at the handle of the 
 door, and motioned to the Old Man. 
 
 " Thar 's suthin' in my pack yer for Johnny. Take it 
 off. I can't." 
 
 The Old Man unstrapped the pack, and laid it before 
 the exhausted man. 
 
 " Open it, quick." 
 
 He did so with trembling fingers. It contained only a
 
 TELL HIM SANDY CLAUS HAS COME
 
 HOW SANTA GLAUS CAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR 83 
 
 few poor toys, cheap and barbaric enough, goodness 
 knows, but bright with paint and tinsel. One of them was 
 broken ; another, I fear, was irretrievably ruined by water, 
 and on the third ah me ! there was a cruel spot. 
 
 " It don't look like much, that 's a fact," said Dick rue- 
 fully. . . . "But it's the best we could do. ... Take 
 'em, Old Man, and put 'em in his stocking, and tell him 
 tell him, you know hold me, Old Man" The Old 
 Man caught at his sinking figure. " Tell him," said Dick, 
 with a weak little laugh, " tell him Sandy Glaus has 
 come." 
 
 And even so, bedraggled, ragged, unshaven and unshorn, 
 with one arm hanging helplessly at his side, Santa Glaus 
 came to Simpson's Bar and fell fainting on the first thresh- 
 old. The Christmas dawn came slowly after, touching the 
 remoter peaks with the rosy warmth of ineffable love. And 
 it looked so tenderly on Simpson's Bar that the whole moun- 
 tain, as if caught in a generous action, blushed to the skie?
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 PART I. WEST 
 
 THE sun was rising in the foothills. But for an hour 
 the black mass of Sierra eastward of Angel's had been out- 
 lined with fire, and the conventional morning had come 
 two hours before with the down coach from Placerville. 
 The dry, cold, dewless California night still lingered in the 
 long canons and folded skirts of Table Mountain. Even 
 on the mountain road the air was still sharp, and that 
 urgent necessity for something to keep out the chill, which 
 sent the barkeeper sleepily among his bottles and wine- 
 glasses at the station, obtained all along the road. 
 
 Perhaps it might be said that the first stir of life was in 
 the bar-rooms. A few birds twittered in the sycamores at 
 the roadside, but long before that glasses had clicked and 
 bottles gurgled in the saloon of the Mansion House. This 
 was still lit by a dissipated looking hanging-lamp, which 
 was evidently the worse for having been up all night, and 
 bore a singular resemblance to a faded reveler of Angel's, 
 who even then sputtered and flickered in his socket in an 
 armchair below it, a resemblance so plain that when the 
 first level sunbeam pierced the window-pane, the barkeeper, 
 moved by a sentiment of consistency and compassion, put 
 them both out together. 
 
 Then the sun came up haughtily. When it had passed 
 the eastern ridge it began, after its habit, to lord it over 
 Angel's, sending the thermometer up twenty degrees in as 
 many minutes, driving the mules to the sparse shade of 
 corrals and fences, making the red dust incandescent, and
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 85 
 
 renewing its old imperious aggression on the spiked bosses 
 of the convex shield of pines that defended Table Mountain. 
 Thither by nine o'clock all coolness had retreated, and the 
 " outsides " of the up stage plunged their hot faces in its 
 aromatic shadows as in water. 
 
 It was the custom of the driver of the "VVingdam coach 
 to whip up his horses and enter Angel's at that remarkable 
 pace which the woodcuts in the hotel bar-room represented 
 to credulous humanity as the usual rate of speed of that 
 conveyance. At such times the habitual expression of dis- 
 dainful reticence and lazy official severity which he wore on 
 the box became intensified as the loungers gathered about 
 the vehicle, and only the boldest ventured to address him. 
 It was the Hon. Judge Beeswinger, Member of Assembly, 
 who to-day presumed, perhaps rashly, on the strength of 
 his official position. 
 
 " Any political news from below, Bill ? " he asked, as the 
 latter slowly descended from his lofty perch, without, how- 
 ever, any perceptible coming down of mien or manner. 
 
 " Not much," said Bill, with deliberate gravity. " The 
 President o' the United States hez n't bin hisself sens you 
 refoosed that seat in the Cabinet. The ginral feelin' in 
 perlitical circles is one o' regret." 
 
 Irony, even of this outrageous quality, was too common 
 in Angel's to excite either a smile or a frown. Bill slowly 
 entered the bar-room during a dry, dead silence, in which 
 only a faint spirit of emulation survived. 
 
 " Ye did n't bring up that agint o' Eothschild's this 
 trip ? " asked the barkeeper slowly, by way of vague con- 
 tribution to the prevailing tone of conversation. 
 
 " No," responded Bill, with thoughtful exactitude. " H* 
 said he could n't look inter that claim o' Johnson's without 
 first consultin' the Bank o' England.''" 
 
 The Mr. Johnson here alluded to being present as the 
 faded reveler the barkeeper had lately put out, and as the
 
 86 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 alleged claim notoriously possessed no attractions whatever 
 to capitalists, expectation naturally looked to him for some 
 response to this evident challenge. He did so by simply 
 stating that he would " take sugar " in his, and by walking 
 unsteadily towards the bar, as if accepting a festive invita- 
 tion. To the credit of Bill be it recorded that he did not 
 attempt to correct the mistake, but gravely touched glasses 
 with him, and after saying " Here 's another nail in your 
 coffin," a cheerful sentiment, to which "And the hair all 
 off your head " was playfully added by the others, he 
 threw off his liquor with a single dexterous movement of 
 head and elbow, and stood refreshed. 
 
 " Hello, old major ! " said Bill, suddenly setting down 
 his glass. " Are you there ? " 
 
 It was a boy, who, becoming bashfully conscious that this 
 epithet was addressed to him, retreated sideways to the door- 
 way, where he stood beating his hat against the doorpost 
 with an assumption of indifference that his downcast but 
 mirthful dark eyes and reddening cheek scarcely bore out. 
 Perhaps it was owing to his size, perhaps it was to a certain 
 cherubic outline of face and figure, perhaps to a peculiar 
 trustfulness of expression, that he did not look half his age, 
 tfhich was really fourteen. 
 
 Everybody in Angel's knew the boy. Either under the 
 venerable title bestowed by Bill, or as " Tom Islington," 
 after his adopted father, his was a familiar presence in the 
 settlement, and the theme of much local criticism and com- 
 ment. His waywardness, indolence, and unaccountable ami- 
 ability a quality at once suspicious and gratuitous in a 
 pioneer community like Angel's had often been the sub- 
 ject of fierce discussion. A large and reputable majority 
 believed him destined for the gallows ; a minority not quite 
 so reputable enjoyed his presence without troubling them- 
 selves much about his future ; to one or two the evil pre- 
 dictions of the majority possessed neither novelty nor terror.
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 87 
 
 " Anything for me, Bill ? " asked the boy half mechani- 
 cally, with the air of repeating some jocular formulary per- 
 fectly understood by Bill. 
 
 " Any thin' for you ! " echoed Bill, with an overacted 
 severity equally well understood by Tommy, " anythin' 
 for you ? No ! And it 's my opinion there Avon't be any- 
 thin' for you ez long ez you hang around bar-rooms and spend 
 your valooable time with loafers and bummers. Git ! " 
 
 The reproof was accompanied by a suitable exaggeration 
 of gesture (Bill had seized a decanter), before which the 
 boy retreated still good-humoredly. Bill followed him to 
 the door. " Dern my skin, if he hez n't gone off with that 
 bummer Johnson," he added, as he looked down the road. 
 
 " What 's he expectin', Bill ? " asked the barkeeper. 
 
 " A letter from his aunt. Reckon he '11 hev to take it 
 out in expectin'. Likely they 're glad to get shut o' him." 
 
 " He 's leadin' a shiftless, idle life here," interposed the 
 Member of Assembly. 
 
 " Well," said Bill, who never allowed any one but him- 
 self to abuse his protdge, " seein' he ain't expectin' no offis 
 from the hands of an enlightened constitooency, it is rayther 
 a shiftless life." After delivering this Parthian arrow with 
 a gratuitous twanging of the bow to indicate its offensive 
 personality, Bill winked at the barkeeper, slowly resumed a 
 pair of immense, bulgy buckskin gloves, which gave his fin- 
 gers the appearance of being painfully sore and bandaged, 
 strode to the door without looking at anybody, called out, 
 " All aboard," with a perfunctory air of supreme indiffer- 
 ence whether the invitation was heeded, remounted his box, 
 and drove stolidly away. 
 
 Perhaps it was well that he did so, for the conversation 
 at once assumed a disrespectful attitude toward Tom and his 
 relatives. It was more than intimated that Tom's alleged 
 aunt was none other than Tom's real mother, while it was
 
 88 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 also asserted that Tom's alleged tancle did not himself pai 
 ticipate in this intimate relationship to the boy to an extent 
 which the fastidious taste of Angel's deemed moral and 
 necessary. Popular opinion also believed that Islington, 
 the adopted father, who received a certain stipend ostensibly 
 for the boy's support, retained it as a reward for his reti- 
 cence regarding these facts. " He ain't ruinin' hisself by 
 wastin' it on Tom," said the barkeeper, who possibly pos- 
 sessed positive knowledge of much of Islington's disburse- 
 ments. But at this point exhausted nature languished 
 among some of the debaters, and he turned from the fri- 
 volity of conversation to his severer professional duties. 
 
 It was also well that Bill's momentary attitude of didac- 
 tic propriety was not further excited by the subsequent con- 
 duct of his protege. For by this time Tom, half supporting 
 the unstable Johnson, who developed a tendency to occa- 
 sionally dash across the glaring road, but checked himself 
 midway each time, reached the corral which adjoined the 
 Mansion House. At its farther extremity was a pump and 
 horse-trough. Here, without a word being spoken, but evi- 
 dently in obedience to some habitual custom, Tom led his 
 companion. With the boy's assistance, Johnson removed 
 his coat and neckcloth, turned back the collar of his shirt, 
 and gravely placed his head beneath the pump-spout. 
 With equal gravity and deliberation, Tom took his place at 
 the handle. For a few moments only the splashing of 
 water and regular strokes of the pump broke the solemnly 
 ludicrous silence. Then there was a pause in which John- 
 son put his hands to his dripping head, felt it critically as 
 if it belonged to somebody else, and raised his eyes to his 
 companion. "That ought to fetch it" said Tom, in answer 
 to the look. "Ef it don't," replied Johnson doggedly, 
 with an air of relieving himself of all further responsibility 
 in the matter, " it 's got to, thet 's all ! "
 
 MRS. .SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 89 
 
 If " it " referred to some change in the physiognomy of 
 Johnson, " it " had probably been " fetched " by the pro- 
 cess just indicated. The head that went under the pump 
 was large, and clothed with bushy, uncertain-colored hair ; 
 the face was flushed, puffy, and expressionless, the eyes in- 
 jected and full. The head that came out from under the 
 pump was of smaller size and different shape, the hair 
 straight, dark, and sleek, the face pale and hollow-cheeked, 
 the eyes bright and restless. In the haggard, nervous as- 
 cetic that rose from the horse-trough there was very little 
 trace of the Bacchus that had bowed there a moment before. 
 Familiar as Tom must have been with the spectacle, he 
 could not help looking inquiringly at the trough, as if ex- 
 pecting to see some traces of the previous Johnson in its 
 shallow depths. 
 
 A narrow strip of willow, alder, and buckeye a mere 
 dusty, raveled fringe of the green mantle that swept the 
 high shouldere of Table Mountain lapped the edge of 
 the corral. The silent pair were quick to avail themselves 
 of even its scant shelter from the overpowering sun. They 
 had not proceeded far, before Johnson, who was walking 
 quite rapidly in advance, suddenly brought himself up, and 
 turned to his companion with an interrogative " Eh ? " 
 
 " I did n't speak," said Tommy quietly. 
 
 " Who said you spoke ? " said Johnson, with a quick look 
 of cunning. " In course you did n't speak, and I did n't speak 
 neither. Nobody spoke. Wot makes you think you spoke ? " 
 he continued, peering curiously into Tommy's eyes. 
 
 The smile which habitually shone there quickly vanished 
 as the boy stepped quietly to his companion's side, and took 
 his arm without a word. 
 
 " In course you did n't speak, Tommy," said Johnson 
 deprecatingly. " You ain't a boy to go for to play an ole 
 soaker like me. That 's wot I like you for. Thet 's wot I 
 seed in you from the first. I sez, ' Thet 'ere boy ain't
 
 90 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 going to play you, Johnson ! You can go your whole pile 
 on him, when you can't trust even a barkeepV Thet 's 
 wot I said. Eh ? " 
 
 This time Tommy prudently took no notice of the inter- 
 rogation, and Johnson went on : " Ef I was to ask you 
 another question, you would n't go to play me neither 
 would you, Tommy ? " 
 
 " No," said the boy. 
 
 "Ef I was to ask you," continued Johnson, without 
 heeding the reply, hut with a growing anxiety of eye and a 
 nervous twitching of his lips, " ef I was to ask you, fur 
 instance, ef that was a jackass rabbit that jest passed, 
 eh ? you 'd say it was or was not, ez the case may be. 
 You would n't play the ole man on thet ? " 
 
 " No," said Tommy quietly, " it was a jackass rabbit." 
 
 " Ef I was to ask you," continued Johnson, " ef it wore, 
 say, fur instance, a green hat with yaller ribbons, you 
 wouldn't play me, and say it did, onless " he added, 
 with intensified cunning " onless it did ? " 
 
 " No," said Tommy, " of course I would n't ; but then, 
 you see, it did." 
 
 " It did ? 
 
 " It did ! " repeated Tommy stoutly ; " a green hat with 
 yellow ribbons and and a red rosette." 
 
 " I did n't get to see the ros-ette," said Johnson, with 
 slow and conscientious deliberation,, yet with an evident 
 sense of relief ; " but that ain't sayin' it wa'n't there, you 
 know. Eh ? " 
 
 Tommy glanced quietly at his companion. There were 
 great beads of perspiration on his ashen-gray forehead, and 
 on the <mds of his lank hair; the hand which twitched 
 spasmodically in his was cold and clammy, the other, which 
 was free, had a vague, purposeless, jerky activity, as if 
 attached to some deranged mechanism. Without any 
 apparent concern in these phenomena, Tommy halted, and,
 
 MKS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 91 
 
 seating himself on a log, motioned his companion to a place 
 beside him. Johnson obeyed without a word. Slight as 
 was the act, perhaps no other incident of their singular com- 
 panionship indicated as completely the dominance of this 
 careless, half-effeminate, but self-possessed boy over this dog- 
 gedly self-willed, abnormally excited man. 
 
 " It ain't the square thing," said Johnson, after a pause, 
 with a laugh * that was neither mirthful nor musical, and 
 frightened away a lizard that had been regarding the pair 
 with breathless suspense, " it ain't the square thing for 
 jackass rabbits to wear hats, Tommy, is it, eh ? " 
 
 " Well," said Tommy, with unmoved composure, " some- 
 times they do and sometimes they don't. Animals are 
 mighty queer." And here Tommy went off in an animated, 
 but, I regret to say, utterly untruthful and untrustworthy 
 account of the habits of California fauna, until he was 
 interrupted by Johnson. 
 
 " And snakes, eh, Tommy ? " said the man, with an 
 abstracted air, gazing intently on the ground before him. 
 
 " And snakes," said Tommy, " but they don't bite, at 
 least not that kind you see. There ! don't move, Uncle 
 Ben, don't move; they're gone now. And it's about 
 time you took your dose." 
 
 Johnson had hurriedly risen as if to leap upon the log, 
 but Tommy had as quickly caught his arm with one hand 
 while he drew a bottle from his pocket with the other. 
 Johnson paused and eyed the bottle. " Ef you say so, my 
 boy," he faltered, as his fingers closed nervously around 
 it ; " say ' when,' then." He raised the bottle to his lips 
 and took a long draught, the boy regarding him critically. 
 " When," said Tommy suddenly. Johnson started, flushed, 
 and returned the bottle quickly. But the color that had 
 risen to his cheek stayed there, his eye grew less restless, 
 and as they moved away again the hand that rested o 
 Tommy's shoulder was steadier.
 
 92 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 Their way lay along the flank of Table Mountain, a 
 wandering trail through a tangled solitude that might have 
 seemed virgin and unbroken but for a few oyster-cans, 
 yeast-powder tins, and empty bottles that had been appar- 
 ently stranded by the " first low wash " of pioneer waves. 
 On the ragged trunk of an enormous pine hung a few tufts 
 of gray hair caught from a passing grizzly, but in strange 
 Juxtaposition at its foot lay an empty bottle of incomparable 
 bitters, the chefd'ceuvre of a hygienic civilization, and 
 blazoned with the arms of an all-healing republic. The 
 head of a rattlesnake peered from a case that had contained 
 tobacco, which was still brightly placarded with the high- 
 colored effigy of a popular danseuse. And a little beyond 
 this the soil was broken and fissured, there was a confused 
 mass of roughly hewn timber, a straggling line of sluicing, 
 a heap of gravel and dirt, a rude cabin, and the claim of 
 Johnson. 
 
 Except for the rudest purposes of shelter from rain and 
 cold, the cabin possessed but little advantage over the sim- 
 ple savagery of surrounding nature. It had all the prac- 
 tical directness of the habitation of some animal, without 
 its comfort or picturesque quality ; the very birds that 
 haunted it for food must have felt their own superiority as 
 architects. It was inconceivably dirty, even with its scant 
 capacity for accretion ; it was singularly stale, even in its 
 newness and freshness of material. Unspeakably dreary as 
 it was in shadow, the sunlight visited it in a blind, aching, 
 purposeless way, as if despairing of mellowing its outlines 
 or of even tanning it into color. 
 
 The claim worked by Johnson in his intervals of sobriety 
 was represented by half a dozen rude openings in the 
 mountain-side, with the heaped-up de'bris of rock and 
 gravel before the mouth of each. They gave very little 
 evidence of engineering skill or constructive purpose, 01 
 indeed showed anything but the vague, successively aban-
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 93 
 
 doned essays of their projector. To-day they served 
 another purpose, for as the sun had heated the little cabin 
 almost to the point of combustion, curling up the long dry 
 shingles, and starting aromatic tears from the green pine 
 beams, Tommy led Johnson into one of the larger openings, 
 and with a sense of satisfaction threw himself panting upon 
 its rocky floor. Here and there the grateful dampness was 
 condensed in quiet pools of water, or in a monotonous and 
 soothing drip from the rocks above. Without lay the star- 
 ing sunlight colorless, clarified, intense. 
 
 For a few moments they lay resting on their elbows in 
 blissful contemplation of the heat they had escaped. " Wot 
 do you say," said Johnson slowly, without looking at his 
 companion, but abstractedly addressing himself to the land- 
 scape beyond, " wot do you say to two straight games 
 fur one thousand dollars ? " 
 
 " Make it five thousand," replied Tommy reflectively 
 also to the landscape, " and I 'm in." 
 
 " Wot do I owe you now ? " said Johnson, after a 
 lengthened silence. 
 
 " One hundred and seventy-five thousand two hundred 
 and fifty dollars," replied Tommy with business-like 
 gravity. 
 
 " Well," said Johnson after a deliberation commensurate 
 with the magnitude of the transaction, " ef you win, call it 
 a hundred and eighty thousand, round. War 's the 
 keerds ? " 
 
 They were in an old tin box in a crevice of a rock above 
 his head. They were greasy and worn with service. 
 Johnson dealt, albeit his right hand was still uncertain, 
 hovering, after dropping the cards, aimlessly about Tommy, 
 and being only recalled by a strong nervous effort. Yet, 
 notwithstanding this incapacity for even honest manipula- 
 tion, Mr. Johnson covertly turned a knave from the bottom 
 of the pack with such shameless inefficiency and gratuitous
 
 94 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 unskillfulness, that even Tommy was obliged to cough and 
 look elsewhere to hide his embarrassment. Possibly for 
 this reason the young gentleman was himself constrained, 
 by way of correction, to add a valuable card to his own 
 hand, over and above the number he legitimately held. 
 
 Nevertheless the game was unexciting and dragged list- 
 lessly. Johnson won. He recorded the fact and the 
 amount with a stub of pencil and shaking fingers in wander- 
 ing hieroglyphics all over a pocket diary. Then there was 
 a long pause, when Johnson slowly drew something from 
 his pocket and held it up before his companion. It was 
 apparently a dull red stone. 
 
 "Ef," said Johnson slowly, with his old look of simple 
 cunning, " ef you happened to pick up sich a rock ez 
 that, Tommy, what might you say it was ? " 
 
 " Don't know," said Tommy. 
 
 " Might n't you say," continued Johnson cautiously, 
 " that it was gold or silver ? " 
 
 "Neither," said Tommy promptly. 
 
 ".Mightn't you say it was quicksilver? Mightn't you 
 say that ef thar was a friend o' yourn ez knew war to go 
 and turn out ten ton of it a day, and every ton worth two 
 thousand dollars, that he had a soft thing, a very soft thing, 
 allowin', Tommy, that you used sich language, which 
 you don't ? " 
 
 "But," said the boy, coming to the point with great 
 directness, " do you know where to get it ? have you struck 
 it, Uncle Ben ? " 
 
 Johnson looked carefully round. " I hev, Tommy. 
 Listen. I know whar thar 's cartloads of it. But thar 's 
 only one other specimen the mate to this yer thet 's 
 above ground, and thet's in 'Frisco. Thar 's an agint 
 comin' up in a day or two to look into it. I sent for him 
 Eh?" 
 
 His bright, restless eyes were concentrated on Tommy's
 
 MRS. SKAGGSS HUSBANDS 95 
 
 face now, but the boy showed neither surprise noi interest. 
 Lea.st of all did he betray any recollection of Billys ironical 
 and gratuitous corroboration of this part of the story. 
 
 " Nobody knows it," continued Johnson in a nervous 
 whisper, " nobody knows it but you and the agint in 
 'Frisco. The boys workin' round yar passes by and sees 
 the old man grubbin' away, and no signs o' color, not even 
 rotten quartz ; the boys loafin' round the Mansion House 
 sees the old man lyin' round free in bar-rooms, and they 
 laughs and sez, ' Played out,' and spects nothin'. Maybe 
 ye think they spects suthin' now, eh ? " queried Johnson 
 suddenly, with a sharp look of suspicion. 
 
 Tommy looked up, shook his head, threw a stone at a 
 passing rabbit, but did not reply. 
 
 " When I fust set eyes on you, Tommy," continued 
 Johnson, apparently reassured, " the fust day you kem and 
 pumped for me, an entire stranger, and hevin' no call to do 
 it, I sez, ' Johnson, Johnson,' sez I, f yer 's a boy you kin 
 trust. Yer 's a boy that won't play you ; yer 's a chap 
 that 's white and square,' white and square, Tommy : 
 them 's the very words I used." 
 
 He paused for a moment, and then went on in a confiden- 
 tial whisper, " ' You want capital, Johnson,' sez I, ' to 
 develop your resources, and you want a pardner. Capital 
 you can send for, but your pardner, Johnson, your pard- 
 ner is right yer. And his name, it is Tommy Islington ' 
 Them 's the very words I used." 
 
 He stopped and chafed his clammy hands upon his 
 knees. " It 's six months ago sens I made you my pardner. 
 Thar ain't a lick I 've struck sens then, Tommy, thar ain't 
 a han'ful o' yearth I 've washed, thar ain't a shovelful o' 
 rock I 've turned over, but I tho't o' you. ' Share, and 
 share alike,' sez I. When I wrote to my agint, I wrote 
 ekal for my pardner, Tommy Islington, he hevin' no call 
 to know ef the same was man or boy."
 
 96 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 He had moved nearer the boy, and would perhaps have 
 laid his hand caressingly upon him, but even in his mani- 
 fest affection there was a singular element of awed restraint 
 and even fear, a suggestion of something withheld even 
 his fullest confidences, a hopeless perception of some vague 
 barrier that never could be surmounted. He may have 
 been at times dimly conscious that, in the eyes which 
 Tommy raised to his, there was thorough intellectual ap- 
 preciation, critical good-humor, even feminine softness, but 
 nothing more. His nervousness somewhat heightened by 
 his embarrassment, he went on with an attempt at calmness 
 which his twitching white lips and unsteady fingers made 
 pathetically grotesque. " Thar 's a bill o' sale in my bunk, 
 made out accordin' to law, of an ekal ondivided half of the 
 claim, and the consideration is two hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand dollars gambling debts gambling debts from me 
 to you, Tommy, you understand ? " nothing could ex- 
 ceed the intense cunning of his eye at this moment " and 
 then thar 's a will." 
 
 " A will ? " said Tommy in amused surprise. 
 
 Johnson looked frightened. 
 
 " Eh ? " he said hurriedly, " wot will ? Who said any- 
 thin' 'bout a will, Tommy ? " 
 
 " Nobody," replied Tommy with unblushing calm. 
 
 Johnson passed his hand over his cold forehead, wrung 
 the damp ends of his hair with his fingers, and went on : 
 " Times when I 'm took bad ez I was to-day, the boys about 
 yer sez you soz, maybe, Tommy it 's whiskey. It ain't, 
 Tommy. It 's pizen quicksilver pizen. That 's what 's the 
 matter with me. I 'm salivated ! Salivated with merkery. 
 
 " I 've heerd o' it before," continued Johnson, appealing 
 to the boy, " and ez a boy o' permiskus reading, I reckon 
 you hev too. Them men as works in cinnabar sooner or 
 later gets salivated. It's 'bound to fetch 'em some time. 
 Salivated by merkery."
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 97 
 
 " What are you goin' to do for it ? " asked Tommy. 
 
 " When the agint comes up, and I begins to realize on 
 this yer mine," said Johnson contemplatively, " I goes to 
 New York. I sez to the barkeep' o' the hotel, ' Show me 
 the biggest doctor here.' He shows me. I sez to him, 
 ' Salivated by merkery a year's standin' how much ? ' 
 He sez, ' Five thousand dollars, and take two o' these pills 
 at bedtime, and an ekil number o' powders at meals, and 
 come back in a Aveek.' And I goes back in a week, cured, 
 and signs a certifikit to that effect." 
 
 Encouraged by a look of interest in Tommy's eye, he 
 went on. 
 
 " So I gets cured. I goes to the barkeep', and I sez, 
 ' Show me the biggest, fashionblest house thet 's for sale 
 yer.' And he sez, ' The biggest nat'rally b'longs to John 
 Jacob Astor.' And I sez, ( Show him,' and he show* him. 
 And I sez, ' Wot might you ask for this yer house ? ' And 
 he looks at me scornful, and sez, 'Go 'way, old man; you 
 must be sick.' And I fetches him one over the left eye 
 and he apologizes, and I gives him his own price for the 
 house. I stocks that house with mahogany furniture and 
 pervisions, and thar we lives, you and me, Tommy, you 
 and me ! " 
 
 The sun no longer shone upon the hillside. The sha- 
 dows of the pines were beginning to creep over Johnson's 
 claim, and the air within the cavern was growing chill. In 
 the gathering darkness his eyes shone brightly as he went 
 on: "Then thar comes a day when we gives a big spread. 
 We invites gov'ners, members o' Congress, gentlemen o' 
 fashion, and the like. And among 'em I invites a Man 
 as holds his head very high, a Man I once knew ; but he 
 does n't know I knows him, and he does n't remember me. 
 And he comes and he sits opposite me, and I -watches him. 
 And he 's very airy, this Man, and very chipper, and he 
 wipes his mouth with a white hankercher, and he smiles,
 
 98 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 and he ketches my eye. And he sez, 'A glass o' wine 
 with you, Mr. Johnson ; ' and he fills his glass and I fills 
 mine, and we rises. And I heaves that wine, glass and 
 all, right into his damned grinnin' face. And he jumps 
 for me for he is very game this Man, very game but 
 some on 'em grabs him, and he sez, ' Who be you ? ' And 
 I sez, 'Skaggs! Damn you, Skaggs! Look at me! Gimme 
 back my wife and child, gimme back the money you stole, 
 gimme back the good name you took away, gimme back the 
 health you ruined, gimme back the last twelve years ! Give 
 'em to me, damn you, quick, before I cuts your heart out ! ' 
 And laterally, Tommy, he can't do it. And so I cuts his 
 heart out, my boy ; I cuts his heart out." 
 
 The purely animal fury of his eye suddenly changed 
 again to cunning. " You think they hangs me for it, 
 Tommy, but they don't. Not much, Tommy. I goes to 
 the biggest lawyer there, and I says to him, ' Salivated by 
 merkery you hear me salivated by merkery.' And he 
 winks at me, and he goes to the judge, and he sez, ' This 
 yer unfortnet man is n't responsible he 's been salivated 
 by merkery.' And he brings witnesses ; you comes, Tommy, 
 and you sez ez how you 've seen me took bad afore ; and 
 the doctor, he comes, and he sez as how he 's seen me 
 frightful ; and the jury, without leavin' their seats, brings 
 in a verdict o' justifiable insanity, salivated by merkery." 
 
 In the excitement of his climax he had risen to his feet, 
 but would have fallen had not Tommy caught him and led 
 him into the open air. In this sharper light there was 
 an odd change visible in his yellow-white face, a change 
 which caused Tommy to hurriedly support him, half lead- 
 ing, half dragging him toward the little cabin. When they 
 had reached it, Tommy placed him on a rude " bunk," or 
 shelf, and stood for a moment in anxious contemplation of 
 the tremor-stricken man before him. Then he said rapidly, 
 " Listen, Uncle Ben. I 'm goin' to town to town, you
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 99 
 
 understand for the doctor. You 're not to get up or 
 move on any account until I return. Do you hear ? " 
 Johnson nodded violently. " I '11 be back in two hours." 
 In another moment he was gone. 
 
 For an hour Johnson kept his word. Then he suddenly 
 sat up, and began to gaze fixedly at a corner of the cabin. 
 From gazing at it he began to smile, from smiling at it he 
 began to talk, from talking at it he began to scream, from 
 screaming he passed to cursing and sobbing wildly. Then 
 he lay quiet again. 
 
 He was so still that to merely human eyes he might 
 have seemed asleep or dead. But a squfrrel, that, embold- 
 ened by the stillness, had entered from the roof, stopped 
 short upon a beam above the bunk, for he saw that the man's 
 foot was slowly and cautiously moving towards the floor, 
 and that the man's eyes were as intent and watchful as his 
 own. Presently, still without a sound, both feet were upon 
 the floor. And then the bunk creaked, and the squirrel 
 whisked into the eaves of the roof. When he peered forth 
 again, everything was quiet, and the man was gone. 
 
 An hour later two muleteers on the Placerville Road 
 passed a man with disheveled hair, glaring, bloodshot eyes, 
 and clothes torn with bramble and stained with the red 
 dust of the mountain. They pursued him, when he turned 
 fiercely on the foremost, wrested a pistol from his grasp, 
 and broke away. Later still, when the sun had dropped 
 behind Payne's Ridge, the underbrush on Deadwood Slope 
 crackled with a stealthy but continuous tread. It must 
 have been an animal whose dimly outlined bulk, in the 
 gathering darkness, showed here and there in vague but 
 incessant motion ; it could be nothing but an animal whose 
 utterance was at once so incoherent, monotonous, and un- 
 remitting. Yet, when the sound came nearer, and the 
 chaparral was parted, it seemed to be a man, and that man 
 Johnson.
 
 100 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 Above the baying of phantasmal hounds that pressed him 
 hard and drove him on, with never rest or mercy ; above 
 the lashing of a spectral whip that curled about his limbs, 
 sang in his ears, and continually stung him forward ; above 
 the outcries of the unclean shapes that thronged about 
 him, he could still distinguish one real sonnd, the rush 
 and sweep of hurrying waters. The Stanislaus Eiver ! 
 A thousand feet below him drove its yellowing current. 
 Through all the vacillations of his unseated mind he had 
 clung to one idea to reach the river, to lave in it, to 
 swim it if need be, but to put it forever between him and 
 the harrying shapes, to drown forever in its turbid depths 
 the thronging spectres, to wash away in its yellow flood all 
 stains and color of the past. And now he was leaping from 
 boulder to boulder, from blackened stump to stump, from 
 gnarled bush to bush, caught for a moment and withheld by 
 clinging vines, or plunging downward into dusty hollows, 
 until, rolling, dropping, sliding, and stumbling, he reached 
 the river-bank, whereon he fell, rose, staggered forward, and 
 fell again with outstretched arms upon a rock that breasted 
 the swift current. And there he lay as dead. 
 
 A few stars came out hesitatingly above Deadwood 
 Slope. A cold wind that had sprung up with the going 
 down of the sun fanned them into momentary brightness, 
 swept the heated flanks of the mountain, and ruffled the 
 river. Where the fallen man lay there was a sharp curve 
 in the stream, so that in the gathering shadows the rushing 
 water seemed to leap out of the darkness and to vanish 
 again. Decayed driftwood, trunks of trees, fragments of 
 broken sluicing the wash and waste of many a mile 
 swept into sight a moment, and were gone. All of decay, 
 wreck, and foulness gathered in the long circuit of mining- 
 camp and settlement, all the dregs and refuse of a crude 
 and wanton civilization, reappeared for an instant, and then 
 were hurried away in the darkness and lost. No wonder
 
 MRS. SKAGCIS'S TirSBANDS 101 
 
 that, as the wind ruffled the yellow waters, the waves 
 seemed to lift their unclean hands toward the rock whereon 
 the fallen man lay, as if eager to snatch him from it, too, 
 and hurry him toward the sea. 
 
 It was very still. In the clear air a horn blown a mile 
 away was heard distinctly. The jingling of a spur and a 
 laugh on the highway over Payne's Ridge sounded clearly 
 across the river. The rattling of harness and hoofs fore- 
 told for many minutes the approach of the Wingdam coach, 
 that at last, with flashing lights, passed within a few feet 
 of the rock. Then for an hour all again was quiet. Pre- 
 sently the moon, round and full, lifted herself above the 
 serried ridge and looked down upon the river. At first the 
 bared peak of Deadwood Hill gleamed white and skull-like. 
 Then the shadows of Payne's Ridge cast on the slope 
 slowly sank away, leaving the unshapely stumps, the dusty 
 fissures, and clinging outcrop of Deadwood Slope to stand 
 out in black and silver. Still stealing softly downward, 
 the moonlight touched the bank and the rock, and then 
 glittered brightly on the river. The rock was bare and the 
 man was gone, but the river still hurried swiftly to the sea. 
 
 " Is there anything for me ? " asked Tommy Islington, 
 as, a week after, the stage drew up at the Mansion House, 
 and Bill slowly entered the bar-room. Bill did not reply, 
 but, turning to a stranger who had entered with him, indi- 
 cated with a jerk of his finger the boy. The stranger 
 turned with an air half of business, half of curiosity, and 
 looked critically at Tommy. " Is there anything for me ? " 
 repeated Tommy, a little confused at the silence and scru- 
 tiny. Bill walked deliberately to the bar, and, placing 
 his back against it, faced Tommy with a look of demure 
 enjoyment. 
 
 " Ef," he remarked slowly, " ef a hundred thousand 
 dollars down and half a million in perspektive is enny- 
 thing, Major, THEKE is ! "
 
 102 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 PART IL EAST 
 
 It was characteristic of Angel's that the disappearance of 
 Johnson, and the fact that he had left his entire property to 
 Tommy, thrilled the community hut slightly in comparison 
 with the astounding discovery that he had anything to leave. 
 The finding of a cinnabar lode at Angel's absorbed all col- 
 lateral facts or subsequent details. Prospectors from adjoin- 
 ing camps thronged the settlement ; the hillside for a mile 
 on either side of Johnson's claim was staked out and pre- 
 empted ; trade received a sudden stimulus ; and, in the 
 excited rhetoric of the " Weekly Record," " a new era had 
 broken upon Angel's." " On Thursday last," added that 
 paper, " over five hundred dollars were taken in over the 
 bar of the Mansion House." 
 
 Of the fate of Johnson there was little doubt. He had 
 been last seen lying on a boulder on the river-bank by out- 
 side passengers of the Wingdam night coach, and when Finn 
 of Robinson's Ferry admitted to have fired three shots from 
 a revolver at a dark object struggling in the water near the 
 ferry, which he " suspicioned " to be a bear, the question 
 seemed to be settled. Whatever might have been the falli- 
 bility of his judgment, of the accuracy of his aim there 
 could be no doubt. The general belief that Johnson, after 
 possessing himself of the muleteer's pistol, could have run 
 amuck gave a certain retributive justice to this story, which 
 rendered it acceptable to the camp. 
 
 It was also characteristic of Angel's that no feeling of 
 envy or opposition to the good fortune of Tommy Islington 
 prevailed there. That he was thoroughly cognizant, from 
 the first, of Johnson's discovery, that his attentions to him 
 were interested, calculating, and speculative, was, however, 
 the general belief of the majority, a belief that, singu- 
 larly enough, awakened the first feelings of genuine respect
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 103 
 
 for Tommy ever shown by the camp. " He ain't no fool ; 
 Yuba Bill seed thet from the first," said the barkeeper. It 
 was Yuba Bill who applied for the guardianship of Tommy 
 after his accession to Johnson's claim, and on whose bonds 
 the richest men of Calaveras were represented. It was 
 Yuba Bill, also, when Tommy was sent East to finish his 
 education, who accompanied him to San Francisco, and, be- 
 fore parting with his charge on the steamer's deck, drew him 
 aside, and said, " Ef at enny time you want enny money, 
 Tommy, over and 'bove your 'lowance, you kin write ; but 
 ef you '11 take my advice," he added, with a sudden huski- 
 ness mitigating the severity of his voice, " you '11 forget 
 every derned ole spavined, string-halted bummer, as you 
 ever met or knew at Angel's, ev'ry one, Tommy, ev'ry 
 one ! And so boy take care of yourself and and 
 God bless ye, and pertikerly d n me for a first-class A 1 
 fool." It was Yuba Bill, also, after this speech, who glared 
 savagely around, walked down the crowded gang-plank with 
 a rigid and aggressive shoulder, picked a quarrel with his 
 cabman, and, after bundling that functionary into his own 
 vehicle, took the reins himself, and drove furiously to hie 
 hotel. " It cost me," said Bill, recounting the occurrence 
 somewhat later at Angel's, " it cost me a matter o' twenty 
 dollars afore the jedge the next mornin' ; but you kin bet 
 high thet I taught them 'Frisco chaps suthin' new about 
 drivin'. I did n't make it lively in Montgomery Street for 
 about ten minutes oh no ! " 
 
 And so by degrees the two original locators of the great 
 Cinnabar Lode faded from the memory of Angel's, and 
 Calaveras knew them no more. In five years their very 
 names had been forgotten ; in seven the name of the town 
 was changed ; in ten the town itself was transported bodily 
 to the hillside, and the chimney of the Union Smelting 
 Works by night flickered like a corpse-light over the site of 
 Johnson's cabin, and by day poisoned the pure spices of the
 
 104 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 pines. Even the Mansion House was dismantled, and the 
 Wingdam stage deserted the highway for a shorter cut by 
 Quicksilver City. Only the bared crest of Deadwood Hill, 
 as of old, sharply cut the clear blue sky, and at its base, as of 
 old, the Stanislaus River, unwearied and unresting, babbled 
 whispered, and hurried away to the sea. 
 
 A midsummer's day was breaking lazily on the Atlantic. 
 There was not wind enough to move the vapors in the 
 foggy offing,' but when the vague distance heaved against a 
 violet sky there were dull red streaks that, growing brighter, 
 presently painted out the stars. Soon the brown rocks of 
 Greyport appeared faintly suffused, and then the whole 
 ashen line of dead coast was kindled, and the lighthouse 
 beacons went out one by one. And then a hundred sail, 
 before invisible, started out of the vapory horizon, and 
 pressed toward, the shore. It was morning, indeed, and 
 some of the best society in Greyport, having been up all 
 night, were thinking it was time to go to bed. 
 
 For as the sky flashed brighter it fired the clustering red 
 roofs of a picturesque house by the sands that had all that 
 night, from open lattice and illuminated balcony, given 
 light and music to the shore. It glittered on the broad 
 crystal spaces of a great conservatory that looked upon an 
 exquisite lawn, where all night long the blended odors of 
 sea and shore had swooned under the summer moon. But 
 it wrought confusion among the colored lamps on the long 
 veranda, and startled a group of ladies and gentlemen who 
 had stepped from the drawing-room window to gaze upon 
 it. It was so searching and sincere in its way, that, as the 
 carriage of the fairest Miss Gillyflower rolled away, that 
 peerless young woman, catching sight of her face in the 
 oval mirror, instantly pulled down the blinds, and, nest- 
 ling the whitest shoulders in Greyport against the crimson 
 cushions, went to sleep.
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 1G5 
 
 " How haggard everybody is ! Rose, dear, you look 
 almost intellectual," said Blanche Masterman. 
 
 " I hope not," said Rose simply. " Sunrises are very 
 trying. Look how that pink regularly puts out Mrs. 
 Brown-Robinson, hair and all ! " 
 
 " The angels," said the Count de Nugat, with a polite 
 gesture toward the sky, "must have find these celestial 
 combinations very bad for the toilette." 
 
 " They 're safe in white, except when they sit for 
 their pictures in Venice," said Blanche. " How fresh Mr. 
 Islington looks ! It 's really uncomplimentary to us." 
 
 " I suppose the sun recognizes in me no rival," said the 
 young man demurely. " But," he added, " I have lived 
 much in the open air and require very little sleep." 
 
 " How delightful ! " said Mrs. Brown-Robinson in a low, 
 enthusiastic voice, and a manner that held the glowing 
 sentiment of sixteen and the practical experiences of thirty- 
 two in dangerous combination; "how perfectly delightful ! 
 What sunrises you must have seen, and in such wild, 
 romantic places ! How I envy you ! My nephew was a 
 classmate of yours, and has often repeated to me those 
 charming stories you tell of your adventures. Won't you 
 tell some now ? Do ! How you must tire of us and this 
 artificial life here, so frightfully artificial, you know " (in a 
 confidential whisper) ; " and then to think of the days 
 when you roamed the great West with the Indians, and 
 the bisons, and the grizzly bears ! Of course, you have 
 seen grizzly bears and bisons ? " 
 
 " Of course he has, dear," said Blanche a little pettishly,, 
 throwing a cloak over her shoulders, and seizing her chaperon 
 by the arm ; "his earliest infancy was soothed by bisons, 
 and he proudly points t'o the grizzly bear as the playmate 
 of his youth. Come with me, and I '11 tell you all about it. 
 How good it is of you," she added, sotto voce, to Islington 
 as he stood by the carriage, " how perfectly good it is of
 
 J06 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 you to be like those animals you tell us of, and not know 
 your full power. Think, with your experiences and our 
 credulity, what stories you might tell ! And you are going 
 to walk ? Good-night, then." A slim, gloved hand was 
 frankly extended from the window, and the next moment 
 the carriage rolled away. 
 
 " Is n't Islington throwing away a chance there ? " said 
 Captain Merwin on the veranda. 
 
 "Perhaps he couldn't stand my lovely aunt's super- 
 added presence. But then, he 's the guest of Blanche's 
 father, and I daresay they see enough of each other as 
 it is." 
 
 " But is n't it a rather dangerous situation ? " 
 
 " For him, perhaps ; although he 's awfully old, and very 
 queer. For her, with an experience that takes in all the 
 available men in both hemispheres, ending with Nugat 
 over there, I should say a man more or less would n't affect 
 her much, anyway. Of course," he laughed, " these are 
 the accents of bitterness. But that was last year." 
 
 Perhaps Islington did not overhear the speaker ; perhaps, 
 if he did, the criticism was not new. He turned carelessly 
 away, and sauntered out on the road to the sea. Thence 
 he strolled along the sands toward the cliffs, where, meeting 
 an impediment in the shape of a garden wall, he leaped it 
 with a certain agile, boyish ease and experience, and struck 
 across an open lawn toward the rocks again. The best 
 society of Greyport were not early risers, and the spectacle 
 of a trespasser in an evening dress excited only the criticism 
 of grooms hanging about the stables, or cleanly housemaids 
 on the broad verandas that in Greyport architecture dutifully 
 gave upon the sea. Only once, as he entered the boundaries 
 of Cliffwood Lodge, the famous seat of Renwyck Masterman, 
 was he aware of suspicious scrutiny ; but a slouching figure 
 that vanished quickly in the lodge offered no opposition to 
 his progress. Avoiding the pathway to the lodge, Islington
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 107 
 
 kept along the rocks until, reaching a little promontory and 
 rustic pavilion, he sat down and gazed upon the sea. 
 
 And presently an infinite peace stole upon him. Except 
 where the waves lapped lazily the crags below, the vast 
 expanse beyond seemed unbroken by ripple, heaving only 
 in broad ponderable sheets, and rhythmically, as if still in 
 sleep. The air was filled with a luminous haze that caught 
 and held the direct sunbeams. In the deep calm that lay 
 upon the sea, it seemed to Islington that all the tenderness 
 of culture, magic of wealth, and spell of refinement that for 
 years had wrought upon that favored shore had extended 
 its gracious influence even here. What a pampered and 
 caressed old ocean it was ; cajoled, flattered, and feted where 
 it lay ! An odd recollection of the turbid Stanislaus hurry- 
 ing by the ascetic pines, of the grim outlines of Dead wood 
 Hill, swam before his eyes, and made the yellow green of 
 the velvet lawn and graceful foliage seem almost tropical by 
 contrast. And, looking up, a few yards distant he beheld a 
 tall slip of a girl gazing upon the sea Blanche Masterman. 
 
 She had plucked somewhere a large fan-shaped leaf, 
 which she held parasol-wise, shading the blonde masses of 
 her hair, and hiding her gray eyes. She had changed her 
 festal dress, with its amplitude of flounce and train, for a 
 closely fitting, half-antique habit whose scant outlines would 
 have been trying to limbs less shapely, but which prettily 
 iiccented the graceful curves and sweeping lines of this 
 Greyport goddess. As Islington rose, she came toward 
 him with a frankly outstretched hand and unconstrained 
 manner. Had she observed him first? I don't know. 
 
 They sat down together on a rustic seat, Miss Blanche 
 facing the sea and shading her eyes with the leaf. 
 
 ""I don't really know how long I have been sitting here," 
 said Islington, " or whether I have not been actually asleep 
 and dreaming. It seemed too lovely a morning to go to 
 bed. But you ? "
 
 108 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 From behind the leaf, it appeared that Miss Blanche, on 
 retiring, had been pursued by a hideous four-winged insect 
 which defied the efforts of herself and maid to dislodge. 
 Odin, the Spitz dog, had insisted upon scratching at the door. 
 And it made her eyes red to sleep in the morning. And 
 she had an early call to make. And the sea looked lovely. 
 
 " I J m glad to find you here, whatever be the cause," 
 said Islington, with his old directness. " To-day, as you 
 know, is my last day in Greyport, and it is much pleasanter 
 to say good-by under this blue sky than even beneath your 
 father's wonderful frescoes yonder. I want to remember 
 you, too, as part of this pleasant prospect which belongs to us 
 all, rather than recall you in anybody's particular setting." 
 
 " I know," said Blanche, with equal directness, " that 
 houses are one of the defects of our civilization ; but I 
 don't think I ever heard the idea as elegantly expressed 
 before. Where do you go ? " 
 
 " I don't know yet. I have several plans. I may go to 
 South America and become president of one of the re- 
 publics, I am not particular which. I am rich, but in that 
 part of America which lies outside of Greyport it is neces- 
 sary for every man to have some work. My friends think 
 I should have some great aim in life, with a capital A. But 
 I was born a vagabond, and a vagabond I shall probably 
 die." 
 
 " I don't know anybody in South America," said Blanche 
 languidly. "There were two girls here last season, but 
 they did n't wear stays in the house, and their white frocks 
 .never were properly done up. If you go to South America, 
 you must write to me." 
 
 " I will. Can you tell me the name of this flower which 
 I found in your greenhouse ? It looks much like a Cali- 
 fornia blossom." 
 
 " Perhaps it is. Father bought it of a half-crazy old man 
 who came here one day. Do you know him ? "
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 109 
 
 Islington laughed. " I am afraid not. But let me pre- 
 sent this in a less business-like fashion." 
 
 " Thank you. Remind me to give you one in return be- 
 fore you go, or will you choose yourself ? " 
 
 They had both risen as by a common instinct. 
 
 " Good-by." 
 
 The cool, flower-like hand lay in his for an instant. 
 
 " Will you oblige me by putting aside that leaf a moment 
 before I go ? " 
 
 " But my eyes are red, and I look like a perfect fright." 
 
 Yet, after a long pause, the leaf fluttered down, and a 
 pair of very beautiful but withal very clear and critical eyes 
 met his. Islington was constrained to look away. When 
 he turned again she was gone. 
 
 " Mr. Hislington, sir ! " 
 
 It was Chalker, the English groom, out of breath with 
 running. 
 
 " Seein' you alone, sir b?^ your pardon, sir but 
 there 's a person " 
 
 " A person ! what the devil do you mean ? Speak Eng- 
 lish no, damn it, I mean don't," said Islington snappishly. 
 
 " I said a person, sir. Beg pardon no offense but 
 not a gent, sir. In the lib'ry." 
 
 A little amused even through the utter dissatisfaction 
 with himself and vague loneliness that had suddenly come 
 upon him, Islington, as he walked toward the lodge, asked, 
 " Why is n't he a gent ? " 
 
 " No gent beggin' your pardin, sir 'ud guy a man in 
 sarvis, sir. Takes me 'ands so, sir, as I sits in the rumble 
 at the gate, and puts 'em downd so, sir, and sez, ' Put 'em 
 in your pocket, young man, or is it a road agint you ex- 
 pects to see, that you 'olds hup your 'ands, hand crosses 
 'em like to that ? ' sez he. 'Old 'ard,' sez he, < on the short 
 curves, or you'll bust your precious crust,' sez he. And 
 hasks for you, sir. This way, sir."
 
 HO MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 They entered the lodge. Islington hurried down the long 
 Gothic hall and opened the library door. 
 
 In an armchair, in the centre of the room, a man sat 
 apparently contemplating a large, stiff, yellow hat with an 
 enormous brim, that was placed on the floor before him. 
 His hands rested lightly between his knees, but one foot 
 was drawn up at the side of his chair in a peculiar manner. 
 In the first glance that Islington gave, the attitude in some 
 odd, irreconcilable way suggested a brake. In another 
 moment he dashed across the room, and, holding out both 
 hands, cried, " Yuba Bill ! " 
 
 The man rose, caught Islington by the shoulders, wheeled 
 him round, hugged him, felt of his ribs like a good-natured 
 ogre, shook his hands violently, laughed, and then said 
 somewhat ruefully, " And however did you know me ? " 
 
 Seeing that Yuba Bill evidently regarded himself as in 
 some elaborate disguise, Islington laughed, and suggested 
 that it must have been instinct. 
 
 " And you ? " said Bill, holding him at arm's length and 
 surveying him critically, " you ! toe think toe think 
 a little cuss no higher nor a trace, a boy as I 've flicked 
 outer the road with a whip time in agin, a boy ez never hed 
 much clothes to speak of, turned into a sport ! " 
 
 Islington remembered, with a thrill of ludicrous terror, 
 that he still wore his evening dress. 
 
 " Turned," continued Yuba Bill severely, " turned into 
 arestyourant waiter, a garsong ! Eh, Alfonse, bring mo 
 a patty de foy grass and an omelet, demme ! " 
 
 " Dear old chap ! " said Islington, laughing, and trying 
 to put his hand over Bill's bearded mouth, " but you you 
 don't look exactly like yourself! You're not well, Bill." 
 And indeed, as he turned toward the light, Bill's eyes 
 appeared cavernous, and his hair and beard thickly streaked 
 with gray. 
 
 " Maybe it's this yer harness," said Bill a little anxiously.
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 111 
 
 ic When I switches on this yer curb " (he indicated a massive 
 gold watch-chain with enormous links), "and mounts 
 this ' morning star ' " (he pointed to a very large solitaire 
 pin which had the appearance of blistering his whole shirt- 
 front), " it kinder weighs heavy on me, Tommy. Other- 
 wise I 'mall right, my boy all right." But he evaded 
 Islington's keen eye and turned from the light. 
 
 " You have something to tell me, Bill," said Islington 
 suddenly and with almost brusque directness ; " out with 
 it." 
 
 Bill did not speak, but moved uneasily toward his hat. 
 
 " Yo\i didn't come three thousand miles, without a word 
 of warning, to talk to me of old times," said Islington 
 more kindly, " glad as I would have been to see you. It 
 isn't your way, Bill, and you know it. We shall not be 
 disturbed here," he added, in reply to an inquiring glance 
 that Bill directed to the door, " and I am ready to hear 
 you." 
 
 " Firstly, then," said Bill, drawing his chair nearer 
 Islington, " answer me one question, Tommy, fair and 
 square, and up and down." 
 
 " Go on," said Islington with a slight smile. 
 
 " Ef I should say to you, Tommy say to you to-day, 
 right here, you must come with me you must leave this 
 place for a month, a year, two years, maybe, perhaps for 
 ever is there anything that 'ud keep you anything, my 
 boy, ez you couldn't leave ? " 
 
 "No," said Tommy quietly ; " I am only visiting here. 
 I thought of leaving Grey port to-day." 
 
 " But if I should say to you, Tommy, come with me on 
 a pasear to Chiny, to Japan, to South Aineriky, p'r'aps, 
 could you go ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Islington after a slight pause. 
 
 " Thar isn't ennything," said Bill, drawing a little closer, 
 and lowering his voice confidentially, "'ennything in the
 
 Il2 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 way of a young woman you understand, Tommy ez 
 would keep you ? They 're mighty sweet about here ; and 
 whether a man is young or old, Tommy, there's always 
 some woman as is brake or whip to him ! " 
 
 In a certain excited bitterness that characterized the 
 delivery of this abstract truth, Bill did not see that the 
 young man's face flushed slightly as he answered "No." 
 
 " Then listen. It 's seven years ago, Tommy, thet I was 
 working one o' the Pioneer coaches over from Gold Hill. 
 Ez I stood in front o' the stage-office, the sheriff o' the 
 county comes to me, and he sez, ' Bill,' sez he, ' I've got a 
 looney chap, as I'm in charge of, taking 'im down to the 
 'sylum in Stockton. He'z quiet and peaceable, but the 
 insides don't like to ride with him. Hev you enny objec- 
 tion to give him a lift on the box beside you ? ' I sez, 
 1 No ; put him up.' When I came to go and get up on 
 that box beside him, that man, Tommy that man sittin' 
 there, quiet and peaceable, was Johnson ! 
 
 " He did n't know me, my boy," Yuba Bill continued, 
 rising and putting his hands on Tommy's shoulders, " he 
 didn't know me. He didn't know nothing about you, nor 
 Angel's, nor the quicksilver lode, nor even his own name. 
 He said his name was Skaggs, but I knowed it was Johnson. 
 Thar was times, Tommy, you might have knocked me off 
 that box with a feather ; thar was times when if the twenty- 
 seven passengers o' that stage hed found theirselves swim- 
 ming in the American River five hundred feet below the 
 road, I never could have explained it satisfactorily to the 
 company, never. 
 
 " The sheriff said," Bill continued hastily, as if to pre- 
 clude any interruption from the young man, "the sheriff 
 said he had been brought into Murphy's Camp three years 
 before, dripping with water, and sufferin' from perkussion 
 of the brain, and had been cared for generally by the boys 
 'round. When I -told the sheriff I knowed 'im, I got him
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 113 
 
 to leave him in my care ; and I took him to 'Frisco, Tommy, 
 to 'Frisco, and I put him in charge o' the best doctors 
 there, and paid his board myself. There was nothin' he 
 didn't have ez he wanted. Don't look that way, my dear 
 boy, for God's sake don't ! " 
 
 " Bill ! " said Islington, rising and staggering to the 
 window, " why did you keep this from me ? " 
 
 " Why ? " said Bill, turning on him savagely, " why ? 
 because I wa'n't a fool. Thar was you, winnin' your way 
 in college ; thar was you, risin' in the world, and of some 
 account to it. Yer was an old bummer, ez good ez dead to 
 it a man ez oughter been dead afore ! a man ez never 
 denied it ! But you allus liked him better nor me," said 
 Bill bitterly. 
 
 " Forgive me, Bill," said the young man, seizing both 
 his hands. " I know you did it for the best ; but go on." 
 
 " Thar ain't much more to tell, nor much use to tell it, 
 as I can see," said Bill moodily. " He never could be 
 cured, the doctors said, for he had what they called mono- 
 mania was always talking about his wife and darter that 
 somebody had stole away years ago, and plannin' revenge 
 on that somebody. And six months ago he was missed. 
 I tracked him to Carson, to Salt Lake City, to Omaha, to 
 Chicago, to New York, and here ! " 
 
 " Here ! " echoed Islington. 
 
 " Here ! And that 's what brings me here to-day. 
 Whether he 's crazy or well, whether he 's huntin' you or 
 lookin' up that other man, you must get away from here. 
 You must n't see him. You and me, Tommy, will go away 
 on a cruise. In three or four years he '11 be dead or miss- 
 ing, and then we '11 come back. Come." And he rose to 
 his feet. 
 
 " Bill," said Islington, rising also, and taking the hand 
 of his friend with the same quiet obstinacy that in the old 
 days had endeared him to Bill, " wherever he is, here 01
 
 114 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 elsewhere, sane or crazy, I shall seek and find him. Every 
 dollar that I have shall be his, every dollar that I have 
 spent shall be returned to him. I am young yet, thank 
 God, and can work ; and if there is a way out of this mis- 
 erable business, I shall find it." 
 
 " I knew," said Bill with a surliness that ill concealed 
 his evident admiration of the calm figure before him "I 
 knew the partikler style of d n fool that you was, and 
 expected no better. Good - by, then God Almighty ! 
 who's that?" 
 
 He was on his way to the open French window, but had 
 started back, his face quite white and bloodless, and his 
 eyes staring. Islington ran to the window and looked out. 
 A. white skirt vanished around the corner of the veranda. 
 When he returned, Bill had dropped into a chair. 
 
 " It must have been Miss Masterman, I think ; but 
 what 's the matter ? " 
 
 " Nothing," said Bill faintly ; " have you got any whiskey 
 handy ? " 
 
 Islington brought a decanter and, pouring out some 
 spirits, handed the glass to Bill. Bill drained it, and then 
 said, " Who is Miss Masterman ? " 
 
 " Mr. Masterman's daughter ; that is, an adopted daugh- 
 ter, I believe." 
 
 " Wot name ? " 
 
 "I really don't know," said Islington pettishly, more 
 vexed than he cared to own at this questioning. 
 
 Yuba Bill rose and walked to the Avindow, closed it, 
 walked back again to the door, glanced at Islington, hesi- 
 tated, and then returned to his chair. 
 
 " I did n't tell you I was married did I ? " he said 
 suddenly, looking up in Islington's lace with an unsuccess- 
 ful attempt at a reckless laugh. 
 
 "No," said Islington, more pained at the manner than 
 the words.
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 115 
 
 ''Fact," said Yuba Bill. "Three years ago it was, 
 Tommy, three years ago ! " 
 
 He looked so hard at Islington that, feeling he was 
 expected to say something, he asked vaguely, " Whom did 
 you marry ? " 
 
 " Thet 's it ! " said Yuba Bill ; " I can't ezactly say ; 
 partikly, though a she-devil ! generally, the wife of half a 
 dozen other men." 
 
 Accustomed, apparently, to have his conjugal infelicities 
 a theme of mirth among men, and seeing no trace of amuse- 
 ment on Islington's grave face, his dogged, reckless manner 
 softened, and, drawing his chair closer to Islington, he went 
 on : " It all began outer this : we was coming down Wat- 
 son's grade one night pretty free, when the expressman 
 turns to me and says, ' There 's a row inside, and you 'd 
 better pull up ! ' I pulls up, and out hops, first a woman, 
 and then two or three chaps swearin' and cursin', and try- 
 in' to drag some one arter them. Then it 'peared, Tommy, 
 thet it was this woman's drunken husband they was going 
 to put out for abusin' her and strikin' her in the coach ; 
 and if it had n't been for me, my boy, they 'd have left 
 that chap thar in the road. But I fixes matters up by put- 
 ting her alongside o' me on the box, and we drove on. She 
 was very white, Tommy, for the matter o' that, she was 
 always one o' these very white women, that never got red 
 in the face, but she never cried a whimper. Most women 
 would have cried. It was queer, but she never cried. I 
 thought so at the time. 
 
 " She was very tall, with a lot o' light hair meandering 
 down the back of her head, as long as a deerskin whiplash, 
 and about the color. She bed eyes thet 'd bore ye through 
 at fifty yards, and pooty hands and feet. And when she 
 kinder got out o' that stiff, narvous state she was in, and 
 warmed up a little, and got chipper, by G d, sir, she was 
 handsome, she was that ! "
 
 116 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 A little flushed and embarrassed at his own enthusiasm, 
 he stopped, and then said carelessly, " They got off at 
 Murphy's." 
 
 " Well," said Islington. 
 
 " Well, I used to see her often arter thet, and when she 
 was alone she allus took the box-seat. She kinder confided 
 her troubles to me, how her husband got drunk and abused 
 her ; and I did n't see much o' him, for he was away in 
 'Frisco arter thet. But it was all square, Tommy, all 
 square 'twixt me and her. 
 
 "I got a-going there a good deal, and then one day I 
 sez to myself, 'Bill, this won't do,' and I got changed 
 to another route. Did you ever know Jackson Filltree, 
 Tommy ? " said Bill, breaking off suddenly. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Might have heerd of him, p'r'aps ? " 
 
 " No," said Islington impatiently. 
 
 "Jackson Filltree ran the express from White's out to 
 Summit, 'cross the North Fork of the Yuba. One day he 
 sez to me, ' Bill, that 's a mighty bad ford at the North 
 Fork.' I sez, ' I believe you, Jackson.' ' It '11 git me some 
 day, Bill, sure,' sez he. I sez, ' Why don't you take the 
 lower ford?' 'I don't know,' sez he, 'but I can't.' So 
 ever after, when I met him, he sez, ' That North Fork ain't 
 got me yet.' One day I was in Sacramento, and up comes 
 Filltree. He sez, ' I 've sold out the express business on 
 account of the North Fork, but it 's bound to get me yet, 
 Bill, sure ; ' and he laughs. Two weeks after they finds his 
 body below the ford, whar he tried to cross, comin' down 
 from the summit way. Folks said it was foolishness ; 
 Tommy, I sez it was Fate ! The second day arter I was 
 changed to the Placerville route, thet woman comes, outer 
 the hotel above the stage-office. Her husband, she said, 
 was lying sick in Placerville ; that 's what she said ;. but it 
 was Fate, Tommy, Fate. Three months afterward, her
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 117 
 
 husband takes an overdose of morphine for delirium tre- 
 mens, and dies. There's folks ez sez she gave it to him, 
 but it 's Fate. A year after that I married her, Fate, 
 Tommy, Fate ! 
 
 " I lived with her jest three months," he went on, after 
 a long breath, "three months! It ain't much time for 
 a happy man. I've seen a good deal o' hard life in my 
 day, but there was days in that three months longer than 
 any day in my life, days, Tommy, when it was a toss-up 
 whether I should kill her or she me. But thar, I 'm done. 
 You are a young man, Tommy, and I ain't goin' to tell 
 things thet, old as I am, three years ago I could n't have 
 believed." 
 
 When at last, with his grim face turned toward the win- 
 dow, he sat silently with his clenched hands on his knees 
 before him, Islington asked where his wife was now. 
 
 " Ask me no more, my boy, no more. I 've said my 
 say." With a gesture as of throwing down a pair of reins 
 before him, he rose, and walked to the window. 
 
 " You kin understand, Tommy, why a little trip around 
 the world 'ud do me good. Ef you can't go with me, well 
 and good. But go I must." 
 
 " Not before luncheon, I hope," said a very sweet 
 voice, as Blanche Masterman suddenly stood before them. 
 " Father would never forgive me if in his absence I per- 
 mitted one of Mr. Islington's friends to go in this way. 
 You will stay, won't you ? Do ! And you -will give me 
 your arm now ; and when Mr. Islington has done staring, 
 he will follow us into the dining-room and introduce 
 you." 
 
 <l ~L have quite fallen in love with your friend," said 
 Miss Blanche, as they stood in the drawing-room looking at 
 the figure of Bill, strolling, with his short pipe in his mouth, 
 through the distant shrubbery. " He asks very queer ques-
 
 118 MKS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 tions, though. He wanted to know my mother's maiden 
 name." 
 
 " He is an honest fellow," said Islington gravely. 
 
 " You are very much subdued. You don't thank me, I 
 daresay, for keeping you and your friend here ; but you 
 could n't go, you know, until father returned." 
 
 Islington smiled, but not very gayly. 
 
 " And then I think it much better for us to part here 
 under these frescoes, don't you ? Good-by." 
 
 She extended her long, slim hand. 
 
 " Out in the sunlight there, when my eyes were red, you 
 were very anxious to look at me," she added in a dangerous 
 voice. 
 
 Islington raised his sad eyes to hers. Something glitter- 
 ing upon her own sweet lashes trembled and fell. 
 
 " Blanche ! " 
 
 She was rosy enough now, and would have withdrawn 
 her hand, but Islington detained it. She was not quite cer- 
 tain but that her waist was also in jeopardy. Yet she 
 could not help saying, " Are you sure that there is n't any- 
 thing in the way of a young woman that would keep you ? " 
 
 " Blanche ! " said Islington in reproachful horror. 
 
 " If gentlemen will roar out their secrets before an open 
 window, with a young woman lying on a sofa on the ve- 
 randa, reading a stupid French novel, they must not be sur- 
 prised if she gives more attention to them than to her book." 
 
 " Then you know all, Blanche ? " 
 
 "'I know," said Blanche, "let's see I know the par- 
 tikler style of ahem ! fool you was, and expected no 
 better. Good-by." And, gliding like a lovely and inno- 
 cent milk snake out of his grasp, she slipped away. 
 
 To the pleasant ripple of waves, the sound of music and 
 light voices, the yellow midsummer moon again rose over 
 Greyport. It looked upon formless masses of rock and
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 119 
 
 shrubbery, wide spaces of lawn and beach, and a shimmer- 
 ing expanse of water. It singled out particular objects, a 
 white sail in shore, a crystal globe upon the lawn, and 
 flashed upon something held between the teeth of a crouch- 
 ing figure scaling the low wall of Cliffwood Lodge. Then, 
 as a man and woman passed out from under the shadows of 
 the foliage into the open moonlight of the garden path, the 
 figure leaped from the wall, and stood erect and waiting in 
 the shadow. 
 
 It was the figure of an old man, with rolling eyes, his 
 trembling hand grasping a long, keen knife, a figure more 
 pitiable than pitiless, more pathetic than terrible. But the 
 next moment the knife was stricken from his hand, and he 
 struggled in the firm grasp of another figure that apparently 
 sprang from the wall beside him. 
 
 " D n you, Masterman ! " cried the old man hoarsely ; 
 " give me fair play, and I '11 kill you yet ! " 
 
 " Which my name is Yuba Bill," said Bill quietly, " and 
 it 's time this d n fooling was stopped." 
 
 The old man glared in Bill's face savagely. " I know 
 you. You 're one of Masterman's friends, d n you, 
 
 let me go till I cut his heart out, let me go ! Where 
 is my Mary ? where is my wife ? there she is ! there ! 
 
 there! there! Mary!" He would have screamed, 
 but Bill placed his powerful hand upon his mouth as he turned 
 in the direction of the old man's glance. Distinct in the 
 moonlight the figures of Islington and Blanche, arm in arm, 
 stood out upon the garden path. 
 
 " Give me my wife ! " muttered the old man hoarsely 
 between Bill's fingers. " Where is she ? " 
 
 A sudden fury passed over Yuba Bill's face. " Where is 
 your wife ? " he echoed, pressing the old man back against 
 the garden wall, and holding him there as in a vise. 
 " Where is your wife ? " he repeated, thrusting his grim 
 . jaw and savage eyes into the old man's frightened
 
 120 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS 
 
 face. " Where is Jack Adam's wife ? Where is MY wife ? 
 Where is the she-devil that drove one man mad, that sent 
 another to hell hy his own hand, that eternally broke and 
 ruined me ? Where ! Where ! Do you ask where ? In 
 jail in Sacramento, in jail, do you hear ? in jail for 
 murder, Johnson, murder ! " 
 
 The old man gasped, stiffened, and then, relaxing, sud- 
 denly slipped, a mere .inanimate mass, at Yuba Bill's feet. 
 With a sudden revulsion of feeling, Yuba Bill dropped at 
 his side, and, lifting him tenderly in his arms, whispered, 
 " Look up, old man, Johnson ! look up, for God's sake ! 
 it 's me, Yuba Bill ! and yonder is your daughter, and 
 Tommy don't you know Tommy, little Tommy Isling- 
 ton ? " 
 
 Johnson's eyes slowly opened. He whispered, " Tom- 
 my ! yes, Tommy ! Sit by me, Tommy. But don't sit so 
 near the bank. Don't you see how the river is rising and 
 beckoning' to me hissing, and boilin' over the rocks ? 
 It 's gittin' higher ! hold me, Tommy, hold me, and 
 don't let me go yet. We '11 live to cut his heart out, Tom- 
 my, we '11 live we '11 " 
 
 His head sank, and the rushing river, invisible to all eyes 
 save his, leaped toward him out of the darkness, and bore 
 him away, no longer to the darkness, but through it to the 
 distant, peaceful, shining sea.
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 IN 1858 Fiddletown considered her a very pretty woman, 
 She had a quantity of light chestnut hair, a good figure, a 
 dazzling complexion, and a certain languid grace which 
 passed easily for gentlewomanliness. She always dressed 
 becomingly, and in what Fiddletown accepted as the latest 
 fashion. She had only two blemishes : one of her velvety 
 eyes, when examined closely, had a slight cast, and her left 
 cheek bore a small scar left by a single drop of vitriol 
 happily the only drop of an entire phial thrown upon her 
 by one of her own jealous sex that reached the pretty face 
 it was intended to mar. But when the observer had studied 
 the eyes sufficiently to notice this defect, he was generally 
 incapacitated for criticism, and even the scar on her cheek 
 was thought by some to add piquancy to, her smile. The 
 youthful editor of the Fiddletown " Avalanche " had said 
 privately that it was " an exaggerated dimple." Colonel 
 Starbottle was instantly " reminded of the beautifying 
 patches of the days of Queen Anne, but more particularly, 
 sir, of the blankest beautiful woman, that, blank you, you 
 ever laid your two blank eyes upon. A creole woman, sir, 
 in New Orleans. And this woman had a scar a line ex- 
 tending, blank me, from her eye to her blank chin. And 
 this woman, sir, thrilled you, sir, maddened you, sir, 
 absolutely sent your blank soul to perdition with her blank 
 fascination. And one day I said to her, { Celeste, how in 
 blank did you come by that beautiful scar, blank you ? ' 
 And she said to me, ' Star, there is n't another white man 
 that I 'd confide in but you, but I made that scar myself,
 
 122 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 purposely, I did, blank me.' These were her very words, 
 sir, and perhaps you think it a blank lie, sir, but I '11 put 
 up any blank sum you can name and prove 'it, blank me." 
 
 Indeed, most of the male population of Fiddletown were 
 or had been in love with her. Of this number about one 
 half believed that their love was returned, with the excep- 
 tion, possibly, of her own husband. He alone had been 
 known to express skepticism. 
 
 The name of the gentleman who enjoyed this infelicitous 
 distinction was Tretherick. He had been divorced from 
 an excellent wife to marry this Fiddletown enchantress. 
 She also had been divorced, but it was hinted that some 
 previous experiences of hers in that legal formality had 
 made it perhaps less novel and probably less sacrificial. I 
 would not have it inferred from this that she was deficient 
 in sentiment or devoid of its highest moral expression. Her 
 intimate friend had written (on the occasion of her second 
 divorce), " The cold world does not understand Clara yet," 
 and Colonel Starbottle had remarked, blankly, that with 
 the exception of a single woman in Opelousas Parish, 
 Louisiana, she hatl more soul than the whole caboodle of 
 them put together. Few indeed could read those lines 
 entitled " Infelissimus," commencing, " Why waves no 
 cypress o'er this brow," originally published in the 
 " Avalanche " over the signature of " The Lady Clare," 
 without feeling the tear of sensibility tremble on his eye- 
 lids, or the glow of virtuous indignation mantle his cheek 
 at the low brutality and pitiable jocularity of the " Dutch 
 Flat Intelligencer," which the next week had suggested the 
 exotic character of the cypress and its entire absence from 
 Fiddletown as a reasonable answer to the query. 
 
 Indeed, it was this tendency to elaborate her feelings in 
 a metrical manner, and deliver them to the cold world 
 through the medium of the newspapers, that first attracted 
 the attention of Tretherick. Several poems descriptive of
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 123 
 
 the effects of California scenery upon a too sensitive soul,, 
 and of the vague yearnings for the infinite which an en- 
 forced study of the heartlessness of California society pro- 
 duced in the poetic breast, impressed Mr. Tretherick, who 
 was then driving a six-mule freight wagon between Knight's 
 Ferry and Stockton, to seek out the unknown poetess. 
 Mr. Tretherick was himself dimly conscious of a certain 
 hidden sentiment in his own nature, and it is possible that 
 some reflections on the vanity of his pursuit he supplied 
 several mining camps with whiskey and tobacco in con- 
 junction with the dreariness of the dusty plain on which he 
 habitually drove, may have touched some chord in sym- 
 pathy with this sensitive woman. Howbeit, after a brief 
 courtship as brief as was consistent with some previous 
 legal formalities they were married, and Mr. Tretherick 
 brought his blushing bride to Fiddletown, or " Fideletown," 
 as Mrs. T. preferred to call it in her poems. 
 
 The union was not a felicitous one. It was not long 
 before Mr. Tretherick discovered that the sentiment he had 
 fostered while freighting between Stockton and Knight's 
 Ferry was different from that which his wife had evolved 
 from the contemplation of California scenery and her own 
 soul. Being a man of imperfect logic, this caused him to 
 beat her, and she, being equally faulty in deduction, was 
 impelled to a certain degree of unfaithfulness on the same 
 premise. Then Mr. Tretherick began to drink, and Mrs. 
 T. to contribute regularly to the columns of the " Ava- 
 lanche." It was at this time that Colonel Starbottle dis- 
 covered a similarity in Mrs. T.'s verse to the genius of 
 Sappho, and pointed it out to the citizens of Fiddletown in 
 a two-columned criticism, signed " A. S.," also published in 
 the " Avalanche " and supported by extensive quotation. 
 As the "Avalanche 1 ' did not possess a font of Greek typo, 
 the editor was obliged to reproduce the Leucadian numbers 
 in the ordinary Roman letter, to the intense disgust ol
 
 124 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLEYOWN 
 
 Colonel Starbottle, and the vast delight of Fiddletown, who 
 saw fit to accept the text as an excellent imitation of 
 Choctaw a language with which the Colonel, as a whilom 
 resident of the Indian territories, was supposed to be 
 familiar. Indeed, the next week's " Intelligencer " con- 
 tained some vile doggerel, supposed to be an answer to 
 Mrs. T.'s poem, ostensibly written by the wife of a Digger 
 Indian chief, accompanied by a glowing eulogium signed 
 " A. S. S." 
 
 The result of this jocularity was briefly given in a later 
 copy of the " Avalanche." " An unfortunate rencontre 
 took place on Monday last between the Hon. Jackson Flash, 
 of the ' Dutch Flat Intelligencer,' and the well-known 
 Colonel Starbottle of this place, in front of the Eureka 
 Saloon. Two shots were fired by the parties without 
 injury to either, although it is said that a passing Chinaman 
 received fifteen buckshot in the calves of his legs from the 
 Colonel's double-barreled shotgun which were not intended 
 for him. John will learn to keep 'out of the way of 
 Melican man's firearms hereafter. The cause of the affray 
 is not known, although it is hinted that there is a lady in 
 the case. The rumor that points to a well-known and 
 beautiful poetess, whose lucubrations have often graced our 
 columns, seems to gain credence from those that are 
 posted." 
 
 Meanwhile the passiveness displayed by Tretherick under 
 these trying circumstances was fully appreciated in the 
 gulches. "The old man's head is level," said one long- 
 booted philosopher. " Ef the Colonel kills Flash, Mrs. 
 Tretherick is avenged ; if Flash drops the Colonel, Treth- 
 erick is all right. Either way he's got a sure thing." 
 During this delicate condition of affairs Mrs. Tretherick one 
 day left her husband's home and took refuge at the Fiddle- 
 town Hotel, with only the clothes she had on her back. 
 Here she stayed for several weeks, during which period it
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 1^6 
 
 is only justice to say that she bore herself with the strictest 
 propriety. 
 
 It was a clear morning in early spring that Mrs. Trether- 
 ick, unattended, left the hotel and walked down the narrow 
 street toward the fringe of dark pines which indicated the 
 extreme limits of Fiddletown. The few loungers at that 
 early hour were preoccupied with the departure of the 
 Wingdam coach at the other extremity of the street, and 
 Mrs. Tretherick reached the suburbs of the settlement with- 
 out discomposing observation. Here she took a cross street 
 or road running at right angles with the main thoroughfare 
 of Fiddletown, and passing through a belt of woodland. It 
 was evidently the exclusive and aristocratic avenue of the 
 town; the dwellings were few, ambitious, and uninterrupted 
 by shops. And here she was joined by Colonel Starbottle. 
 
 The gallant Colonel, notwithstanding that he bore the 
 swelling port which usually distinguished him, that his coat 
 was tightly buttoned and his boots tightly fitting, and that 
 his cane, hooked over his arm, swung jauntily, was not 
 entirely at his ease. Mrs. Tretherick, however, vouchsafed 
 him a gracious smile and a glance of her dangerous eyes, 
 and the Colonel, with an embarrassed cough and a slight 
 strut, took his place at her side. 
 
 "The coast is clear," said the Colonel, "and Tretherick 
 is over at Dutch Flat on a spree ; there is no one in the 
 house but a Chinaman, and you need fear no trouble from 
 him. /," he continued, with a slight inflation of the chest 
 that imperiled the security of his button, " I will see that 
 you are protected in the removal of your property." 
 
 " I 'm sure it 's very kind of you, and so disinterested," 
 simpered the lady as they walked along. " It 's so pleasant 
 to meet some one who has a soul some one to sympathize 
 with in a community so hardened and heartless as this." 
 And Mrs. Tretherick cast down her eyes, but not until they 
 had wrought their perfect and accepted work upon her com- 
 nanion.
 
 126 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 " Yes, certainly, of course," said the Colonel, glancing 
 nervously up and down the street ; " yes, certainly." Per- 
 ceiving, however, that there was np one in sight or hearing, 
 he proceeded at once to inform Mrs. Tretherick that the 
 great trouble of his life, in fact, had been the possession of 
 too much soul. That many women as a gentleman she 
 would excuse him, of course, from mentioning names but 
 many beautiful women had often sought his society, but, 
 being deficient, madam, absolutely deficient in this quality, 
 he could not reciprocate. But when two natures thoroughly 
 in sympathy despising alike the sordid trammels of a low 
 and vulgar community and the conventional restraints of a 
 hypocritical society when two souls in perfect accord met 
 and mingled in poetical union, then but here the Colonel's 
 speech, which had been remarkable for a certain whiskey- 
 and- watery fluency, grew husky, almost inaudible, and 
 decidedly incoherent. Possibly Mrs. Tretherick may have 
 heard something like it before, and was enabled to fill the 
 hiatus. Nevertheless, the cheek that was on the side of the 
 Colonel was quite virginal and bashfully conscious until they 
 reached their destination. 
 
 It was a pretty little cottage, quite fresh and warm with 
 paint, very pleasantly relieved against a platoon of pines, 
 some of whose foremost files had been displaced to give 
 freedom to the fenced inclosure in which it sat. In the 
 vivid sunlight and perfect silence it had a new, uninhabited 
 look, as if the carpenters and painters had just left it. At 
 the farther end of the lot a Chinaman was stolidly digging, 
 but there was no other sign of occupancy. " The coast," 
 as the Colonel had said, was indeed " clear." Mrs. Treth- 
 erick paused at the gate. The Colonel would have entered 
 with her, but was stopped by a gesture. " Come for me in 
 a couple of hours, and I shall have everything packed," she 
 said, as she smiled and extended her hand. The Colonel 
 seized and pressed it with great fervor. Perhaps the pres-
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 127 
 
 sure was slightly returned, for the gallant Colonel was 
 impelled to innate his chest and trip away as smartly as his 
 stubby - toed, high - heeled boots would permit. When he 
 had gone, Mrs. Tretherick opened the door, listened a mo- 
 ment in the deserted hall, and then ran quickly upstairs to 
 what had been her bedroom. 
 
 Everything there was unchanged as on the night she 
 left it. On the dressing-table stood her bandbox, as she 
 remembered to have left it when she took out her bonnet. 
 On the mantel lay the other glove she had forgotten in 
 her flight. The two lower drawers of the bureau were 
 half open, she had forgotten to shut them, and on its 
 marble top lay her shawl-pin and a soiled cuff. What other 
 recollections came upon her I know not, but she suddenly 
 grew quite white, shivered, and listened with a beating 
 heart and her hand upon the door. Then she stepped to 
 the mirror, and half fearfully, half curiously, parted with 
 her fingers the braids of her blonde hair above her little 
 pink ear, until she came upon an ugly, half-healed scar. 
 She gazed at this, moving her pretty head up and down to 
 get a better light upon it, until the slight cast in her vel- 
 vety eyes became very strongly marked indeed. Then she 
 turned away with a light, reckless, foolish laugh, and ran 
 to the closet where hung her precious dresses. These she 
 inspected nervously, and, missing suddenly a favorite black 
 silk from its accustomed peg for a moment, thought she 
 should have fainted. But discovering it the next instant, 
 lying upon a trunk where she had thrown it, a feeling of 
 thankfulness to a Superior Being who protects the friend- 
 less for the first time sincerely thrilled her. Then, albeit 
 she was hurried for time, she could not resist trying the 
 effect of a certain lavender neck-ribbon, upon the dress she 
 was Wearing, before the mirror. Suddenly she became 
 aware of a child's voice close beside her and she stopped. 
 And then the child's voice repeated, " Is it mamma ? "
 
 128 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 Mrs. Tretherick faced quickly about. Standing in the 
 doorway was a little girl of six or seven. Her dress had 
 been originally fine, but was torn and dirty, and her hair, 
 which was a very violent red, was tumbled serio-comically 
 about her forehead. For all this she was a picturesque 
 little thing, even through whose childish timidity there 
 was a certain self-sustained air which is apt to come upon 
 children who are left much to themselves. She was hold- 
 ing under her arm a rag doll, apparently of her own work- 
 manship and nearly as large as herself a doll with a 
 cylindrical head and features roughly indicated with char- 
 coal. A long shawl, evidently belonging to a grown person, 
 dropped from her shoulders and swept the floor. 
 
 The spectacle did not excite Mrs. Tretherick's delight. 
 Perhaps she had but a small sense of humor. Certainly, 
 when the child, still standing in the doorway, again asked, 
 " Is it mamma ? " she answered sharply, " No, it is n't," 
 and turned a severe look upon the intruder. 
 
 The child retreated a step, and then, gaining courage 
 with the distance, said, in deliciously imperfect speech, 
 
 " Dow 'way, then ; why don't you dow away ? " 
 
 But Mrs. Tretherick was eyeing the shawl. Suddenly 
 she whipped it off the child's shoulders and said angrily, 
 
 "How dared you take my things, you bad child ?" 
 
 " Is it yours ? Then you are my mamma ! ain't you ? 
 You are mamma ! " she continued gleefully, and before 
 Mrs. Tretherick could avoid her she had dropped her doll, 
 and, catching the woman's skirts with both hands, was 
 dancing up and down before her. 
 
 "What's your name, child?" said Mrs. Tretherick 
 coldly, removing the small and not very white hands from 
 her garments. 
 
 "Tarry." 
 
 " Tarry ? " 
 
 "Yeth. Tarry. Tarowline."
 
 IS IT MAMMA'
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 129 
 
 " Caroline ? " 
 
 " Yeth. Tarowline Tretherick." 
 
 "Whose child are you?" demanded Mrs. Tretherick 
 still more coldly, to keep down a rising fear. 
 
 " Why, yours," said the little creature with a laugh. 
 " I 'm your little durl. You 're my mamma my new 
 mamma don't you know my ole mamma's dorn away, 
 never to turn back any more. I don't live wid my ole 
 mamma now. I live wid you and papa." 
 
 " How long have you been here ? " asked Mrs. Trether- 
 ick snappishly. 
 
 "I think it 's free days," said Carry reflectively. 
 
 " You think ! don't you know ? " sneered Mrs. Trether- 
 ick. " Then where did you come from ? " 
 
 Carry's lip began to work under this sharp cross-exami- 
 nation. With a great effort and a small gulp she got the 
 better of it, and answered, 
 
 " Papa papa fetched me from Miss Simmons from 
 Sacramento, last week." 
 
 " Last week ! you said three days just now," returned 
 Mrs. Tretherick with severe deliberation. 
 . " I mean a monf," said Carry, now utterly adrift in sheer 
 helplessness and confusion. 
 
 " Do you know what you are talking about ? " demanded 
 Mrs. T. shrilly, restraining an impulse to shake the little 
 figure before her and precipitate the truth by specific 
 gravity. 
 
 But the flaming red head here suddenly disappeared in 
 the folds of Mrs. Tretherick's dress, as if it were trying to 
 extinguish itself forever. 
 
 "There now, stop that sniffling," said Mrs. Tretherick, 
 extricating her dress from the moist embraces of the child, 
 and feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. " Wipe your face 
 now and run away and don't bother. Stop," she contin' 
 ued, as Carry moved away, " where 's your papa ? "
 
 130 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 " He 's dorn away too. He 's sick. He 's been dorn " 
 she hesitated " two free days." 
 
 "Who takes care of you, child?" said Mrs. T., eyeing 
 her curiously. 
 
 ' " John, the Chinaman. I tresses myselth ; John tooks 
 and makes the beds." 
 
 " Well, now, run away and behave yourself, and don't 
 bother me any more," said Mrs. Tretherick, remembering 
 the object of her visit. " Stop, where are you going ? " she 
 added, as the child began to ascend the stairs, dragging the 
 long doll after her by one helpless leg. 
 
 "Coin' upstairs to play and be dood, and not bother 
 mamma." 
 
 " I ain't your mamma," shouted Mrs. Tretherick, and 
 then she swiftly reiintered her bedroom and slammed the door. 
 
 Once inside, she drew forth a large trunk from the closet, 
 and set ta work with querulous and fretful haste to pack 
 her wardrobe. She tore her best dress in taking it from 
 the hook on which it hung ; she scratched her soft hands 
 twice with an ambushed pin. All the while she kept up 
 an indignant commentary on the events of the past few 
 moments. She said to herself she saw it all. Tretherick 
 had sent for this child of his first wife this child for 
 whose existence he had never seemed to care just to 
 insult her to fill her place. Doubtless the first wife 
 herself would follow soon, or perhaps there would be a 
 third. Ked hair not auburn, but red of course the 
 child this Caroline looked like its mother, and if so 
 she was anything but pretty. Or the whole thing had 
 been prepared this red-haired child the image of its 
 mother had been kept at a convenient distance at Sacra- 
 mento, ready to be sent for when needed. She remembered 
 his occasional visits there on business, as he said. Per- 
 haps the mother already was there but no she had 
 gone east. Nevertheless Mrs. Tretherick. in her then
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 131 
 
 state of mind, preferred to dwell upon the fact that she 
 might be there. She was dimly conscious also of a certain 
 satisfaction in exaggerating her feelings. Surely no woman 
 had ever been so shamefully abused. In fancy she sketched 
 a picture of herself sitting alone and deserted, at sunset, 
 among the fallen columns of a ruined temple, in a melan- 
 choly yet graceful attitude, while her husband drove rapidly 
 away in a luxurious coach and four, with a red-haired 
 woman at his side. Sitting upon the trunk she had just 
 packed, she partly composed a lugubrious poem, describing 
 her sufferings as, wandering alone and poorly clad, she 
 came upon her husband and "another" flaunting in silks 
 and diamonds. She pictured herself dying of consumption, 
 brought on by sorrow a beautiful wreck, yet still fasci- 
 nating, gazed upon adoringly by the editor of the " Ava- 
 lanche " and Colonel Starbottle. And where was Colonel 
 Starbottle all this while ? why did n't he come ? He at 
 least understood her. He she laughed the reckless, light 
 laugh of a few moments before, and then her face suddenly 
 grew grave, as it had not a few moments before. 
 
 What was that little red-haired imp doing all this time ? 
 Why was she so quiet ? She opened the door noiselessly 
 and listened. She fancied that she heard, above the multi- 
 tudinous small noises and creakings and warpings of the 
 vacant house, a smaller voice singing on the floor above. 
 This, as she remembered, was only an open attic that had 
 been used as a store-room. With a half-guilty conscious- 
 ness she crept softly upstairs, and, pushing the door partly 
 open, looked within. 
 
 Athwart the long, low-studded attic a slant sunbeam 
 from a single small window lay, filled with dancing motes 
 and only half illuminating the barren, dreary apartment. 
 In the ray of this sunbeam she saw the child's glowing hair, 
 as if crowned by a red aureole, as she sat upon the floor 
 with her exaggerated doll between her knees. She appeared
 
 132 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 to be talking to it, and it was not long before Mrs. 
 Tretherick observed that she was rehearsing the interview 
 of a half-hour before. She catechised the doll severely, 
 cross-examining it in regard to the duration of its stay there, 
 and generally on the measure of time. The imitation of 
 Mrs. T.'s manner was exceedingly successful, and the con- 
 versation almost a literal reproduction, with a single excep- 
 tion. After she had informed the doll that she was not her 
 mother, at the close of the interview, she added pathetically, 
 "That if she was dood very dood she might be her 
 mamma and love her very much." 
 
 I have already hinted that Mrs. Tretherick was deficient 
 in a sense of humor. Perhaps it was for this reason that 
 this whole scene affected her most unpleasantly, and the 
 conclusion sent the blood tingling to her cheek. There 
 was something, too, inconceivably lonely in the situation ; 
 the unfurnished vacant room, half light, the monstrous 
 doll, whose very size seemed to give a pathetic significance 
 to its speechlessness, the smallness 'of the one animate self- 
 centred figure all these touched more or less deeply the 
 half-poetic sensibilities of the woman. She could not help 
 utilizing the impression as she stood there, and thought 
 what a fine poem might be constructed from this material, 
 if the room were a little darker, the child lonelier say, 
 sitting beside a dead mother's bier and the wind wailing in 
 the turrets. And then she suddenly heard footsteps at the 
 door below, and recognized the sound of the Colonel's cane. 
 
 She flew swiftly down the stairs and encountered the 
 Colonel in the hall. Here she poured into his astonished 
 ear a voluble and exaggerated statement of her discovery 
 and indignant recital of her wrongs. " Don't tell me the 
 whole thing was n't arranged beforehand ; for I know it 
 was ! " she almost screamed. " And think," she added, 
 " of the heartlessness of the wretch leaving his own child 
 alone here in that way."
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 133 
 
 " It 's a blank shame ! " stammered tlie Colonel, without 
 the least idea of what he was talking about. In fact, utterly 
 unable as he was to comprehend a reason for the woman's 
 excitement with his estimate of her character, I fear he 
 showed it more plainly than he intended. He stammered, 
 expanded his chest, looked stern, gallant, tender, but all 
 unintelligently. Mrs. Tretherick for an instant experienced 
 a sickening doubt of the existence of natures in perfect 
 affinity. 
 
 "It's of no use," said Mrs. Tretherick with sudden 
 vehemence, in answer to some inaudible remark of the 
 Colonel's, and withdrawing her hand from the fervent grasp 
 of that ardent and sympathetic man. " It 's of no use ; my 
 mind is made up. You can send for my trunk as soon as 
 you like, but /shall stay here and confront that man with 
 the proof of his vileness. I will put him face to face with 
 his infamy." 
 
 I do not know whether Colonel Starbottle thoroughly 
 appreciated the convincing proof of Tretherick's unfaithful- 
 ness and malignity afforded by the damning evidence of the 
 existence of Tretherick's own child in his own house. He 
 was dimly aware, however, of some unforeseen obstacle to 
 the perfect expression of the infinite longing of his own sen- 
 timental nature. But before he could say anything, Carry 
 appeared on the landing above them, looking timidly and 
 yet half critically at the pair. 
 
 "That's her," said Mrs. Tretherick excitedly. In her 
 deepest emotions, either in verse or prose, she rose above 
 a consideration of grammatical construction. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the Colonel, with a sudden assumption of 
 parental affection and jocularity that was glaringly unreal 
 and affected. " Ah ! pretty little girl, pretty little girl ! 
 how do you do ? how are you ? you find yourself pretty 
 well, do you, pretty little girl ? " The Colonel's impulse 
 also was to expand his chest and swing his cane, until it
 
 134 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 occurred to him that this action might be ineffective with 
 a child of six or seven. Carry, however, took no immediate 
 notice of this advance, but further discomposed the chival- 
 rous Colonel by running quickly to Mrs. Tretherick, and 
 hiding herself, as if for protection, in the folds of her gown. 
 Nevertheless, the Colonel was not vanquished. Falling 
 back into an attitude of respectful admiration, he pointed 
 out a marvelous resemblance to the " Madonna arid Child." 
 Mrs. Tretherick simpered, but did not dislodge Carry as 
 before. There was an awkward pause for a moment, and 
 then Mrs. Tretherick, motioning significantly to the child, 
 said in a whisper, " Go, now. Don't come here again, 
 but meet me to-night at the hotel." She extended her 
 hand ; the Colonel bent over it gallantly, and, raising his 
 hat, the next moment was gone. 
 
 " Do you think," said Mrs. Tretherick, with an embar- 
 rassed voice and a prodigious blush, looking down and 
 addressing the fiery curls just visible in the folds of her 
 dress, " do you think you will be ' dood ' if I let you 
 stay in here and sit with me ? " 
 
 " And let me call you mamma ? " queried Carry, looking 
 up. 
 
 " And let you call me mamma ! " assented Mrs. Treth- 
 erick with an embarrassed laugh. 
 
 " Yeth," said Carry promptly. 
 
 They entered the bedroom together. Carry's eye in- 
 stantly caught sight of the trunk. 
 
 " Are you doin' away adain, mamma ? " she said with 
 a quick, nervous look, and a clutch at the woman's dress. 
 
 " No-o," said Mrs. Tretherick, looking out of the window. 
 
 " Only playing you 're doin' away," suggested Carry with 
 a laugh. " Let me play too." 
 
 Mrs. T. assented. Carry flew into the next room, 
 and presently reappeared, dragging a small trunk, into 
 which she gravely proceeded to pack her clothes. Mrs. T.
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 135 
 
 noticed that they were not many. A question or two 
 regarding them brought out some further replies from the 
 child, and before many minutes had elapsed Mrs. Treth- 
 erick was in possession of all her earlier history. But 
 to do this Mrs. Tretherick had been obliged to take 
 Carry upon her lap, pending the most confidential dis- 
 closures. They sat thus a long time after Mrs. Tretherick 
 had apparently ceased to be interested in Carry's dis- 
 closures, and, when lost in thought, she allowed the child 
 to rattle on unheeded, and ran her fingers through the 
 scarlet curls. 
 
 " You don't hold me right, mamma," said Carry at last, 
 after one or two uneasy shiftings of position. 
 
 " How should I hold you ? " asked Mrs. Tretherick, with 
 a half-amused, half-embarrassed laugh. 
 
 " This way," said Carry, curling up into position with one 
 arm around Mrs. Tretherick's neck and her cheek resting 
 on her bosom ; " this way there ! " After a little pre- 
 paratory nestling, not unlike some small animal, she closed 
 her eyes and went to sleep. 
 
 For a few moments the woman sat silent, scarcely daring 
 to breathe, in that artificial attitude. And then, whether 
 from some occult sympathy in the touch, or God best knows 
 what, a sudden fancy began to thrill her. She began by 
 remembering an old pain that she had forgotten, an old 
 horror that she had resolutely put away all these years. 
 She recalled days of sickness and distrust, days of an over- 
 shadowing fear, days of preparation for something that was 
 to be prevented that was prevented, with mortal agony 
 and fear. She thought of a life that might have been 
 she dared not say had been and wondered ! It was six 
 years ago ; if it had lived it would have been as old as 
 Carry. The arms which were folded loosely around the 
 sleeping child began to tremble and tighten their clasp. 
 And then the deep potential impulse came, and with a halt
 
 136 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 sob, half-sigh, she threw her arms out and drew the body 
 of the sleeping child down, down into her breast, clown 
 again and again as if she would hide it in the grave dug 
 there years before. And the gust that shook her passed, 
 and then, ah me ! the rain. 
 
 A drop or two fell upon the curls of Carry, and she 
 moved uneasily in her sleep. But the woman soothed her 
 again, it was so easy to do it now, and they sat there 
 quiet and undisturbed, so quiet that they might have 
 seemed incorporate of the lonely silent house, the slowly 
 declining sunbeams, and the general air of desertion and 
 abandonment, yet a desertion that had in it nothing of age, 
 decay, or despair. 
 
 Colonel Starbottle waited at the Fiddletown Hotel all 
 that night in vain. And the next morning when Mr. 
 Tretherick returned to his husks, he found the house 
 vacant and untenanted except by motes and sunbeams. 
 
 "When it was fairly known that Mrs. Tretherick had run 
 away, taking Mr. Tretherick's own child with her, there was 
 some excitement and much diversity of opinion in Fid- 
 dletown. The " Dutch Flat Intelligencer " openly alluded 
 to the " forcible abduction " of the child with the same 
 freedom and, it is to be feared, the same prejudice with 
 which it had criticised the abductor's poetry. All of Mrs. 
 Tretherick's own sex, and perhaps a few of the opposite 
 sex whose distinctive quality was not, however, very strongly 
 indicated, fully coincided in the views of the " Intelligencer." 
 The majority, however, evaded the moral issue ; that Mrs. 
 Tretherick had shaken the red dust of Fiddletown from 
 her dainty slippers was enough for them to know. They 
 mourned the loss of the fair abductor more than hei 
 offense. They promptly rejected Tretherick as an injured 
 husband and disconsolate father, and even went so far as 
 to openly cast discredit in the sincerity of his grief. They
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 137 
 
 reserved an ironical condolence for Colonel Starbottle, 
 overbearing that excellent man with untimely and demon- 
 strative sympathy in bar-rooms, saloons, and other localities 
 not generally deemed favorable to the display of sentiment. 
 " She was alliz a skittish thing, Kernel," said one sympa- 
 thizer, with a fine affectation of gloomy concern and great 
 readiness of illustration, " and it 's kinder nat'ril thet she 'd 
 get away some day and stampede that theer colt ; but thet 
 she should shake you. Kernel, thet she should just shake 
 you is what gits me. And they do say thet you jist hung 
 around thet hotel all night, and paytrolled them corridors, 
 and histed yourself up and down them stairs, and meandered 
 in and out o' thet piazzy, and all for nothing ! " It was an- 
 other generous and tenderly commiserating spirit that poured 
 additional oil and wine on the Colonel's wounds. " The 
 boys yer let on thet Mrs. Tretherick prevailed on ye to 
 pack her trunk and a baby over from the house to the stage 
 offis, and that the chap ez did go off with her thanked you 
 and offered you two short bits, and sed ez how he liked your 
 looks and 'ud employ you agin and now you say it ain't 
 so ? Weil I '11 tell the boys it ain't so, and I 'm glad I 
 met you, for stories do get round." 
 
 Happily for Mrs. Tretherick' s reputation, however, the 
 Chinaman in Tretherick's employment, who was the only 
 eye-witness of her flight, stated that she was unaccom- 
 panied except by the child. He further deposed that obey- 
 ing her orders he had stopped the Sacramento coach and 
 secured a passage for herself and child to San Francisco. 
 It was true that Ah Fe's testimony was of no legal value. 
 But nobody doubted it. Even those who were sceptical of 
 the Pagan's ability to recognize the sacredness of the truth 
 admitted his passionless, unprejudiced unconcern. But it 
 would appear from an hitherto unrecorded passage of this 
 veracious chronicle that herein they were mistaken. 
 
 It was about six months after the disappearance of Mrs
 
 138 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 Tretherick that Ah Fe, while working in Tretherick's lot, 
 was hailed by two passing Chinamen. They were the 
 ordinary mining coolies, equipped with long poles and 
 baskets for their usual pilgrimages. An animated conver- 
 sation at once ensued between Ah Fe and his brother 
 Mongolians, a conversation characterized by that usual 
 shrill volubility and apparent animosity which was at once 
 the delight and scorn of the intelligent Caucasian who did 
 not understand a word of it. Such, at least, was the feeling 
 with which Mr. Tretherick on his veranda, and Colonel Star- 
 bottle, who was passing, regarded their heathenish jargon. 
 The gallant Colonel simply kicked them out of his way ; 
 the irate Tretherick with an oath threw a stone at the group 
 and dispersed them but not before one or two slips of 
 yellow rice paper marked with hieroglyphics were exchanged, 
 and a small parcel put into Ah Fe's hand. When Ah Fe 
 opened this, in the dim solitude of his kitchen, he found a 
 little girl's apron, freshly washed, ironed, and folded. On 
 the corner of the hem were the initials " C. T." Ah Fe 
 tucked it away in a corner of his blouse, and proceeded to 
 wash his dishes in the sink with a smile of guileless satis- 
 faction. 
 
 Two days after this Ah Fe confronted his master. " Me 
 no likee Fiddletown. Me belly sick. Me go now." Mr. 
 Tretherick violently suggested a profane locality. Ah Fe 
 gazed at him placidly, and withdrew. 
 
 Before leaving Fiddletown, however, he accidentally met 
 Colonel Starbottle and dropped a few incoherent phrases 
 which apparently interested that gentleman. When he con- 
 cluded, the Colonel handed him a letter and a twenty-dollar 
 gold-piece. "If you bring me an answer I'll double that. 
 Sabe, John ? " Ah Fe nodded. An interview equally acci- 
 dental, with precisely the same result, took place between Ah 
 Fe and another gentleman, whom I suspect to have been the 
 youthful editor of the "Avalanche." Yet I regret to state
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 139 
 
 that after proceeding some distaHce on his journey, Ah Fe 
 calmly broke the seals of both letters, and after trying to 
 read them upside down and sideways, finally divided them 
 into accurate squares, and in this condition disposed of them 
 to a brother Celestial whom he met on the road for a tri- 
 fling gratuity. The agony of Colonel Starbottle on finding 
 his wash-bill made out on the unwritten side of one of these 
 squares, and delivered to him with his weekly clean clothes, 
 and the subsequent discovery that the remaining portions of 
 his letter were circulated by the same method from the 
 Chinese laundry of one Fung Ti of Fiddletown, has been 
 described to me as peculiarly affecting. Yet I am satisfied 
 that a higher nature, rising above the levity induced by the 
 mere contemplation of the insignificant details of this breach 
 of trust, would find ample retributive justice in the difficul- 
 ties that subsequently attended Ah Fe's pilgrimage. 
 
 On the road to Sacramento he was twice playfully thrown 
 from the top of the stage-coach by an intelligent but deeply 
 intoxicated Caucasian, whose moral nature was shocked at 
 riding with one addicted to opium smoking. At Hangtown 
 he was beaten by a passing stranger, purely an act of 
 Christian supererogation. At Dutch Flat he was robbed 
 by well-known hands from unknown motives. At Sacra- 
 mento he was arrested on suspicion of being something or 
 other, and discharged with a severe reprimand possibly for 
 not being it, and so delaying the course of justice. At San 
 Francisco he was freely stoned by children of the public 
 schools; but by carefully avoiding these monuments of en- 
 lightened progress, he at last reached in comparative safety 
 the Chinese quarters, where his abuse was confined to the 
 police and limited by the strong arm of the law. 
 
 The next day he entered the wash-house of Chy Fook as 
 an assistant, and on the following Friday was sent with a 
 basket of clean clothes to Chy Fook's several clients. 
 
 It was the usual foggy afternoon as he climbed the long
 
 141 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 wind-swept hill of California Street, one of those bleak grat 
 intervals that made the summer a misnomer to any but the 
 liveliest San Franciscan fancy. There was no warmth nor 
 color in earth or sky ; no light nor shade within or without, 
 only one monotonous, universal neutral tint over everything. 
 There was a fierce unrest in the wind-whipped streets, there 
 was a dreary vacant quiet in the gray houses. When Ah 
 Fe reached the top of the hill the Mission ridge was already 
 hidden, and the chill sea-breeze made him shiver. As he 
 put down his basket to rest himself, it is possible that to his 
 defective intelligence and heathen experience this " God's 
 own climate," as it was called, seemed to possess but scant 
 tenderness, softness, or mercy. But it is possible that Ah 
 Fe illogically confounded this season with his old persecu- 
 tors, the school-children, who, being released from studious 
 confinement, at this hour were generally most aggressive. 
 So he hastened on, and, turning a corner, at last stopped 
 before a small house. 
 
 It was the usual San Franciscan urban cottage. There 
 was the little strip of cold green shrubbery before it, the 
 chilly bare veranda, and above this again the grim balcony 
 on which no one sat. Ah Fe rang the bell ; a servant 
 appeared, glanced at his basket, and reluctantly admitted 
 him as if he were some necessary domestic animal. Ah 
 Fe silently mounted the stairs, and, entering the open door 
 of the front chamber, put down the basket and stood pas- 
 sively on the threshold. 
 
 A woman, who was sitting in the cold gray light of the 
 window, with a child in her lap, rose listlessly and came 
 toward him. Ah Fe instantly recognized Mrs. Tretherick, 
 but not a muscle of his immobile face changed, nor did 
 his slant eyes lighten as he met her own placidly. She evi- 
 dently did not recognize him as she began to count the 
 clothes. But the child, curiously examining him, suddenly 
 uttered a short glad cry :
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 141 
 
 " Why, it 's John ! Mamma, it 's our old John what we 
 had in Fiddletown." 
 
 For an instant Ah Fe's eyes and teeth electrically 
 lightened. The child clapped her hands and caught at 
 his blouse. Then he said shortly, "Me John Ah Fe 
 allee same. Me know you. How do ? " 
 
 Mrs. Tretherick dropped the clothes nervously and looked 
 hard at Ah Fe. Wanting the quick-witted instinct of affec- 
 tion that sharpened Carry's perception, she even then could 
 not distinguish him above his fellows. W 7 ith a recollection 
 of past pain and an obscure suspicion of impending danger, 
 she asked him when he had left Fiddletown. 
 
 " Longee time. No likee Fiddletown, no likee Tlevelick. 
 Likee San Flisco. Likee washee. Likee Tally." 
 
 Ah Fe's laconics pleased Mrs. Tretherick. She did not 
 stop to consider how much an imperfect knowledge of 
 English added to his curt directness and sincerity. But she 
 said, " Don't tell anybody you have seen me," and took out 
 her pocket-book. 
 
 Ah Fe, without looking at it, saw that it was nearly 
 empty. Ah Fe, without examining the apartment, saw that 
 it was scantily ftirnished. Ah Fe, without removing his 
 eyes from blank vacancy, saw that both Mrs. Tretherick 
 and Carry were poorly dressed. Yet it is my duty to state 
 that Ah Fe's long fingers closed promptly and firmly over 
 the half-dollar which Mrs. Tretherick extended to him. 
 
 Then he began to fumble in his blouse with a series of 
 extraordinary contortions. After a few moments he ex- 
 tracted from apparently no particular place a child's apron, 
 which he laid upon the basket with the remark 
 
 " One piece washman flagittee." 
 
 Then he began anew his fumblings and contortions. 
 At last his efforts were rewarded by his producing, appar- 
 ently from his right ear, a many-folded piece of tissue- 
 paper. Unwrapping this carefully, he at last disclosed two
 
 142 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 twenty-dollar gold-pieces, which he handed to Mrs. Treth- 
 erick. 
 
 " You leavee money top side of blulow, Fiddletown, me 
 findee money. Me fetchee money to you. All lightee." 
 
 " But I left no money on the top of the bureau, John," 
 said Mrs. Tretherick earnestly. " There must be some mis- 
 take ; it belongs to some other person. Take it back, John." 
 
 Ah Fe's brow darkened. He drew away from Mrs. 
 Tretherick's extended hand and began hastily to gather up 
 his basket. 
 
 " Me no takee back. No, no. Bimeby pleesman he 
 catchee me ! He say, ' God damn thief catchee flowty 
 dollar come to jailee.' Me no takee back. You leavee 
 money top side blulow. Fiddletown. Me fetchee money 
 you. Me no takee back." 
 
 Mrs. Tretherick hesitated. In the confusion of her flight 
 she might have left the money in the manner he had said. 
 In any event she had no right to jeopardize this honest 
 Chinaman's safety by refusing it. So she said, " Very 
 well, John, I will keep it. But you must come again and 
 see me " here Mrs. T. hesitated with a new and sudden 
 revelation of the fact that any man could wish to see any 
 other than herself " and, and Carry ! " 
 
 Ah Fe's face lightened. He even uttered a short ven- 
 triloquistic laugh without moving his mouth. Then shoul- 
 dering his ba'sket he shut the door carefully, and slid quietly 
 downstairs. In the lower hall he, however, found an unex- 
 pected difficulty in opening the front door, and after fum- 
 bling vainly at the lock for a moment, looked around for 
 some help or instruction. But the Irish handmaid who 
 had let him in was contemptuously oblivious of his needs 
 and did not appear. 
 
 There occurred a mysterious and painful incident which 
 I shall simply record without attempting to explain. On 
 the hall table a scarf, evidently the property of the servant
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 143 
 
 before alluded to, was lying. As Ah Fe tried the lock with 
 one hand, the other rested lightly on the table. Suddenly, 
 and apparently of its own volition, the scarf began to creep 
 slowly towards Ah Fe's hand. From Ah Fe's hand it 
 began to creep up his sleeve, slowly and with an insinuating, 
 snake-like motion, and then disappeared somewhere in the 
 recesses of his blouse. Without betraying the least interest 
 or concern in this phenomenon, Ah Fe still repeated his 
 experiments upon the lock. A moment later the tablecloth 
 of red damask, moved by apparently the same mysterious 
 impulse, slowly gathered itself under Ah Fe's fingers, and 
 sinuously disappeared by the same hidden channel. What 
 further mystery might have followed I cannot say, for at 
 this moment Ah Fe discovered the secret of the lock, and 
 was enabled to open the door coincident with the sound of 
 footsteps upon the kitchen stairs. Ah Fe did not hasten his 
 movements, but, patiently shouldering his basket, closed the 
 door carefully behind him again, and stepped forth into the 
 thick encompassing fog that now shrouded earth and sky. 
 
 From her high casement window Mrs. Tretherick watched 
 Ah Fe's figure until it disappeared in the gray cloud. In 
 her present loneliness she felt a keen sense of gratitude 
 towards him, and may have ascribed to the higher emotions 
 and the consciousness of a good deed that certain expansive- 
 ness of the chest and swelling of the bosom that was really 
 due to the hidden presence of the scarf and tablecloth under 
 his blouse ; forJVlrs. Tretherick was still poetically sensitive. 
 As the gray fog deepened into night she drew Carry closer 
 towards her, and above the prattle of the child pursued a 
 vein of sentimental and egotistic recollection at once bitter 
 and dangerous. The sudden apparition of Ah Fe linked 
 her again with her past life at Fiddletown. Over the 
 dreary interval between she was now wandering, a journey 
 so piteous, willful, thorny, and \iseless that it was no 
 wonder that at last Carry stopped suddenly in the midst of
 
 144 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 her voluble confidences to throw her small arms around the 
 woman's neck and bid her not to cry. 
 
 Heaven forefend that I should use a pen that should be 
 ever dedicated to an exposition of unalterable moral principle 
 to transcribe Mrs. Tretherick's own theory of this interval 
 and episode, with its feeble palliations, its illogical deduc- 
 tions, its fond excuses and weak apologies. It would seem, 
 however, that her experience had been hard. Her slender 
 stock of money was soon exhausted. At Sacramento she 
 found that the, composition of verse, although appealing to 
 the highest emotion of the human heart, and compelling 
 the editorial breast to the noblest commendation in the 
 editorial pages, was singularly inadequate to defray the 
 expenses of herself and Carry. Then she tried the stage, 
 but failed signally. Possibly her conception of the passions 
 was different from that which obtained with a Sacramento 
 audience, but it was certain that her charming presence, so 
 effective at short range, was not sufficiently pronounced for 
 the footlights. She had admirers enough in the green- 
 room, but awakened no abiding affection among the audi- 
 ence. In this strait it occurred to her that she had a voice 
 a contralto of no very great compass or cultivation, but 
 singularly sweet and touching, and she finally obtained a 
 position in a church choir. She held it for three months, 
 greatly to her pecuniary advantage, and, it is said, much 
 to the satisfaction of the gentlemen in the back pews who 
 faced towards her during the singing of the last hymn. 
 
 I remember her quite distinctly at this time. The light 
 that slanted through the oriel of St. Dives's choir was wont 
 to fall tenderly on her beautiful head with its stacked 
 masses of deerskin-colored hair, on the low black arches 
 of her brows, and to deepen the pretty fringes that shaded 
 her eyes of Genoa velvet. Very pleasant it was to watch 
 the opening and shutting of that small straight mouth, with 
 its quick revelation of the little white teeth, and to SPP tl'R
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 145 
 
 foolish blood faintly deepen her satin cheek as you watched ; 
 for Mrs. Tretherick was very sweetly conscious of admira- 
 tion, and, like most pretty women, gathered herself under 
 your eye like a racer under the spur. . 
 
 And then, of course, there came trouble. I have it from 
 the soprano a little lady who possessed even more than 
 the usual unprejudiced judgment of her sex that Mrs. 
 Tretherick's conduct was simply shameful ; that her conceit 
 was unbearable ; that if she considered the rest of the choir 
 as slaves, she, the soprano, would like to know it ; that her 
 conduct on Easter Sunday with the basso had attracted the 
 attention of the whole congregation, and that she herself 
 had noticed Dr. Cope twice look up during the service ; 
 that her the soprano's friends had objected to her sing- 
 ing in the choir with a person Avho had been on the stage, 
 but she had waived this. Yet she had it from the best 
 authority that Mrs. Tretherick had run away from her 
 husband, and that this red-haired child who sometimes 
 came in the choir was not her own. The tenor confided 
 to me, behind the organ, that Mrs. Tretherick had a way 
 of sustaining a note at the end of a line, in order that her 
 voice might linger longer with the congregation, an act 
 that could be attributed only to a defective moral nature ; 
 that as a man, he was a very popular dry-goods clerk on 
 week-days, and sang a good deal from apparently behind 
 his eyebrows on the Sabbath, that as a man, sir, he would 
 put up with it no longer. The basso alone a short Ger- 
 man with a heavy voice, for which he seemed reluctantly 
 responsible, and rather grieved at its possession stood up 
 for Mrs. Tretherick and averred that they were jealous of 
 her because she was " bretty." The climax was at last 
 reached in an open quarrel, wherein Mrs. Tretherick used 
 her tongue with such precision of statement and epithet that 
 the soprano burst into hysterical tears, and had to be sup- 
 ported from the choir by her husband and the tenor. This
 
 146 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 act was marked intentionally to the congregation by the 
 omission of the usual soprano solo. Mrs. Tretherick went 
 home flushed with triumph, but on reaching her room fran- 
 tically told Carry that they were beggars henceforward ; that 
 
 she her mother had just taken the very bread out of 
 
 her darling's mouth, and ended by bursting into a flood of 
 penitent tears. They did not come so quickly as in her 
 old poetical days, but when they came they stung deeply. 
 She was roused by a formal visit from a vestryman, one 
 of the Music Committee. Mrs. Tretherick dried her long 
 lashes, put on a new neck ribbon, and went down to the 
 parlor. She stayed there two hours, a fact that might 
 have occasioned some remark but that the vestryman was 
 married and had a family of grown-up daughters. When 
 Mrs. Tretherick returned to her room, she sang to herself 
 in the glass and scolded Carry. But she retained her place 
 in the choir. 
 
 It was not long, however. In due course of time her 
 enemies received a powerful addition to their forces in the 
 committeeman's wife. That lady called upon several of 
 the church members and on Dr. Cope's family. The result 
 was that at a later meeting of the Music Committee Mrs. 
 Tretherick's voice was declared inadequate to the size of 
 the building, and she \yas invited to resign. She did so. 
 She had been out of a situation for two months, and her 
 scant means were almost exhausted when Ah Fe's unex- 
 pected treasure was tossed into her lap. 
 
 The gray fog deepened into night, and the street lamps 
 started into shivering life, as, absorbed in these unprofitable 
 memories, Mrs. Tretherick still sat drearily at her window. 
 Even Carry had slipped away unnoticed, and her abrupt 
 entrance with the damp evening paper in her hand roused 
 Mrs. Tretherick, and brought her back to an active realiza- 
 tion of the present. For Mrs. Tretherick was wont to scan 
 the advertisements, in the faint hope of finding some avenue
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 147 
 
 of employment she knew not what open to her needs, 
 and Carry had noted this habit. 
 
 Mrs. Tretherick mechanically closed the shutters, lit the 
 lights, and opened the paper. Her eye fell instinctively on 
 the following paragraph in the telegraphic column : 
 
 " Fiddletown, 7th. Mr. James Tretherick, an old resi- 
 dent of this place, died last night of delirium tremens, 
 Mr. Tretherick was addicted to intemperate habits, said to 
 have been induced by domestic trouble." 
 
 Mrs. Tretherick did not start. She quietly turned over 
 another page of the paper and glanced at Carry. The child 
 was absorbed in a book. Mrs. Tretherick uttered no word, 
 but during the remainder of the evening was unusually silent 
 and cold. When Carry was undressed and in bed, Mrs. 
 Tretherick suddenly dropped on her knees beside the bed, 
 and, taking Carry's flaming head between her hands, said, 
 
 " Should you like to have another papa, Carry, darling ? " 
 
 " No," said Carry, after a moment's thought. 
 
 " But a papa to help mamma take care of you, to love 
 you, to give you nice clothes, to make a lady of you when 
 you grow up ? " 
 
 Carry turned her sleepy eyes toward the questioner. 
 " Should you, mamma ? " 
 
 Mrs. Tretherick suddenly flushed to the roots of her 
 hair. " Go to sleep," she said sharply, and turned away. 
 
 But at midnight the child felt two white arms close 
 tightly around her, and was drawn down into a bosom that 
 heaved, fluttered, and at last was broken up by sobs. 
 
 " Don't ky, mamma," whispered Carry, with a vague 
 retrospect of their recent conversation. "Don't ky. I 
 fink I should like a new papa if he loved you very much 
 Very, very much ! " 
 
 A month afterwards, to everybody's astonishment, Mrs, 
 Tretherick was married. The happy bridegroom was one 
 Colonel Starbottle, recently elected to represent Calaveras
 
 148 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 County in the legislative councils of the State. As I cannot 
 record the event in finer language than that used by the 
 correspondent of the " Sacramento Globe," I venture to 
 quote some of his graceful periods. " The relentless shafts 
 of the sly god have been lately busy among our gallant 
 Solons. We quote 'one more unfortunate.' The latest 
 victim is the Hon. G. Starbottie of Calaveras. The fair 
 enchantress in the case is a beautiful widow, a former 
 votary of Thespis, and lately a fascinating St. Cecilia of one 
 of the most fashionable churches of San Francisco, where 
 she commanded a high salary." 
 
 The "Dutch Flat Intelligencer" saw fit, however, to 
 comment upon the fact with that humorous freedom char- 
 acteristic of an unfettered press. "The new democratic 
 war-horse from Calaveras has lately advented in the Legis- 
 lature with a little bill to change the name of Tretherick to 
 Starbottie. They call it a marriage certificate down there. 
 Mr. Tretherick has been dead just one month, but we pre- 
 sume the gallant Colonel is not afraid of ghosts." 
 
 It is but just to Mrs. Tretherick to state that the Colonel's 
 victory was by no means an easy one. To a natural degree 
 of coyness on the part of the lady was added the impediment 
 of a rival, a prosperous undertaker from Sacramento, who 
 had first seen and loved Mrs. Tretherick at the theatre and 
 church; his professional habits debarring him from ordi- 
 nary social intercourse, and indeed any other than the most 
 formal public contact with the sex. As this gentleman had 
 made a snug fortune during the felicitous prevalence of a 
 severe epidemic, the Colonel regarded him as a dangerous 
 rival. Fortunately, however, the undertaker was called in 
 professionally to lay out a brother senator who had un- 
 happily fallen by the Colonel's pistol in an affair of honor, 
 and either deterred by physical consideration from rivalry, 
 or wisely concluding that the Colonel was professionally 
 Valuable, he withdrew from the field.
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 149 
 
 The honeymoon was brief, and brought to a close by an 
 untoward incident. During their bridal trip Carry had been 
 placed in the charge of Colonel Starbottle's sister. On 
 their return to the city, immediately on reaching their 
 lodgings, Mrs. Starbottle announced her intention of at 
 once proceeding to Mrs. Culpepper's to bring the child 
 home. Colonel Starbottle, who had been exhibiting for 
 some time a certain uneasiness which he had endeavored 
 to overcome by repeated stimulation, finally buttoned his 
 coat tightly across his breast, and, after walking unsteadily 
 once or twice up and down the room, suddenly faced his 
 wife with his most imposing manner. 
 
 "I have deferred," said the Colonel, with an exaggera- 
 tion of port that increased with his inward fear, and a 
 growing thickness of speech, " I have deferr I may say 
 poshponed statement o' fack thash my duty ter dishclose 
 ter ye. I did no wish to mar su'shine mushal happ'ness 
 
 to bligh' bud o' promise, to darken conjuglar sky by 
 unpleasht revelashun. Musht be done by G d, m'm, 
 musht do it now. The chile is gone ! " 
 
 " Gone ! " echoed Mrs. Starbottle. 
 
 There was something in the tone of her voice, in the 
 sudden drawing together of the pupils of her eyes, that for 
 a moment nearly sobered the Colonel and partly collapsed 
 his chest. 
 
 " I '11 'splain all in a minit," he said, with a deprecating 
 wave of the hand ; " everything shall be 'splained. The- 
 the-the-melencholly event wish preshipitate our happ'ness 
 
 the myster'us prov'nice wish releash you releash chile ! 
 hunestan' ? releash chile. The mom't Tretherick die 
 all claim you have in chile through him die too. Thash 
 law. Whose chile b'long to ? Tretherick ? Tretherick 
 dead. Chile can't b'long dead man. Damn nonshense 
 b'long dead man. Ish your chile ? No ! Whos' chile then ? 
 Chile b'long to 'ts mother. Unnerstan' ? "
 
 150 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 " Where is she ? " said Mrs. Starbottle, with a verv 
 white face and a very low voice. 
 
 " I '11 'splain all. Chile b'long to 'ts mother. Thasb 
 law. I 'm lawyer, lesh'lator, and American sis'n. Ish mj 
 duty as lawyer, as lesh'lator, and 'Merikan sis'n to reshtore 
 chile to suff'rin' mother at any coss any coss." 
 
 " Where is she ? " repeated Mrs. Starbottle, witli her 
 eyes still fixed on the Colonel's face. 
 
 " Gone to 'ts m'o'r. Gone East on shteamer yesserday. 
 Waffed by fav'rin' gales to suff'rin p'rent. Thash so ! " 
 
 Mrs. Starbottle did not move. The Colonel felt his 
 chest slowly collapsing, but steadied himself against a 
 chair, and endeavored to beam with chivalrous gallantry 
 not unmixed with magisterial firmness upon her as she sat. 
 
 " Your feelin's, m'm, do honor to yer sex ; but conshider 
 situashun. Conshider m'or's feelin's conshider my feel- 
 in's." The Colonel paused, and flourishing a white hand- 
 kerchief placed it negligently in his breast, and then smiled 
 tenderly above it, as over laces and ruffles, on the woman 
 before him. "Why should dark shedder cass bligh' on 
 two shouls with single beat ? Chile 's fine chile, good chile, 
 but summonelse chile ! Chile 's gone, Clar' ; but all ish n't 
 gone, Clar'. Conshider, dearesht, you all's have me ! " 
 
 Mrs. Starbottle started to her feet. " You ! " she cried, 
 bringing out a chest note that made the chandeliers ring. 
 " You, that I married to give my darling food and clothes. 
 You! a dog that I whistled to my side to keep the men off 
 me ! You ! " 
 
 She choked up, and then dashed past him into the inner 
 room, which had been Carry's ; then she swept by him 
 again into her own bedroom, and then suddenly reappeared 
 before him erect, menacing, with a burning fire over her 
 cheek-bones, a quick straightening of her arched brows and 
 mouth, a squaiing of her jaw, and an ophidian flattening of 
 tne head.
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 151 
 
 " Listen ! " she said, in a hoarse, half -grown boy's voice. 
 " Hear me ! If you ever expect to set eyes on me again 
 you must find the child. If you ever expect to speak to 
 me again to touch me you must bring her back. For 
 where she goes, I go you hear me ! where she has 
 gone, look for me ! " 
 
 She struck out past him again, with a quick feminine 
 throwing out of her arms from the elbows down, as if 
 freeing herself from some imaginary bonds, and, dashing 
 into her chamber, slammed and locked the door. Colonel 
 Starbottle, although no coward, stood in superstitious fear 
 of an angry woman, and recoiling as she swept by, lost his 
 unsteady foothold and rolled helplessly on the sofa. Here, 
 after one or two unsuccessful attempts to regain his foot- 
 hold, he remained, uttering from time to time profane but 
 not entirely coherent or intelligible protests, until at last he 
 succumbed to the exhausting quality of his emotions, and 
 the narcotic quantity of his potations. 
 
 Meantime, within, Mrs. Starbottle was excitedly gather- 
 ing her valuables and packing her trunk, even as she had 
 done once before in the course of this remarkable history. 
 Perhaps some recollection of this was in her mind, for she 
 stopped to lean her burning cheeks upon her hand, as if 
 she saw again the figure of the child standing in the door- 
 way, and heard once more a childish voice asking, " Is it 
 mamma ? " But the epithet now stung her to the quick, 
 and with a quick, passionate gesture, she dashed it away 
 with a tear that had gathered in her eye. And then it 
 chanced that in turning over some clothes she came upon 
 the child's slipper with a broken sandal-string. She uttered 
 a great cry here, the first she had uttered, and caught it 
 to her breast, kissing it passionately again and again, and 
 rocking from side to side with a motion peculiar to her sex. 
 And then she took it to the window, the better to see it 
 through her now streaming eyes. Here she was taken with
 
 152 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 a sudden fit of coughing that she could not stifle with the 
 handkerchief she put to her feverish lips. And then she 
 suddenly grew very faint, the window seemed to recede 
 before her, the floor to sink beneath her feet, and staggering 
 to the bed, she fell prone upon it with the sandal and hand- 
 kerchief pressed to her breast. Her face was quite pale, 
 the orbit of her eyes dark, and there was a spot upon her 
 lip, another on her handkerchief, and still another on the 
 white counterpane of the bed. 
 
 The wind had risen, rattling the window sashes and 
 swaying the white curtains in a ghostly way. Later, a gray 
 fog stole softly over the roofs, soothing the wind-roughened 
 surfaces, and enwrapping all things in an uncertain light 
 and a measureless peace. She lay there very quiet for 
 all her troubles, still a very pretty bride. And on the other 
 side of the bolted door the gallant bridegroom, from, his 
 temporary couch, snored peacefully. 
 
 A week before Christmas Day, 1870, the little town of 
 Genoa, in the State of New York, exhibited, perhaps more 
 strongly than at any other time, the bitter irony of its foun- 
 ders and sponsors. A driving snowstorm, that had whitened 
 every windward hedge, bush, wall, and telegraph pole, 
 played around this soft Italian capital, whirled in and out 
 of the great, staring, wooden Doric columns of its post-office 
 and hotel, beat upon the cold green shutters of its best 
 houses, and powdered the angular, stiff, dark figures in its 
 streets. From the level of the street the four principal 
 churches of the town stood out starkly, even while their 
 misshapen spires were kindly hidden in the low driving 
 storm. Near the railroad station the new Methodist chapel, 
 whose resemblance to an enormous locomotive was further 
 heightened by the addition of a pyramidal row of front 
 steps, like a cowcatcher, stood as if waiting for a few more 
 houses to be hitched on to proceed to a pleasanter location;
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 153 
 
 But the pride of Genoa the great Crammer Institute for 
 Young Ladies stretched its bare brick length and reared 
 its cupola plainly from the bleak Parnassian hill above the 
 principal avenue. There was no evasion in the Crammer 
 Institute of the fact that it was a public institution. A 
 visitor upon its doorstep, a pretty face at its window, were 
 clearly visible all over the township. 
 
 The shriek of the engine of the four o'clock Northern 
 Express brought but few of the usual loungers to the depot. 
 Only a single passenger alighted and was driven away in the 
 solitary waiting sleigh towards the Genoa Hotel. And then 
 the train sped away again, with that passionate indifference 
 to human sympathies or curiosity peculiar to express trains, 
 the one baggage truck was wheeled into the station again, the 
 station door was locked, and the station master went home. 
 
 The locomotive whistle, however, awakened the guilty 
 consciousness of three young ladies of the Crammer Institute, 
 who were even then surreptitiously regaling themselves in 
 the bake-shop and confectionery saloon of Mrs. Phillips, in a 
 by-lane. For even the admirable regulations of the Institute 
 failed to entirely develop the physical and moral natures of 
 its pupils : they conformed to the excellent dietary rules in 
 public, and in private drew upon the 'luxurious rations of 
 their village caterer ; they attended church with exemplary 
 formality, and flirted informally during service with the vil- 
 lage beaux; they received the best and most judicious 
 instruction during school hours, and devoured the trashiest 
 novels during recess. The result of which was an aggrega- 
 tion of quite healthy, quite human, and very charming 
 young creatures, that reflected infinite credit on the Insti- 
 tute. . Even IVIrs. Phillips, to whom they owed vast sums, 
 exhilarated by the exuberant spirits and youthful freshness 
 of her guests, declared that the sight of " them young 
 things " did her good, and had even been known to shield 
 them by shameless equivocation.
 
 154 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 " Four o'clock, girls ! and if we 're not back to prayers by 
 five we '11 be missed," said the tallest of these foolish virgins, 
 with, an aquiline nose and certain quiet elan that bespoke 
 the leader, as she rose from her seat. " Have you got the 
 books, Addy ? " A.ddy displayed three dissipated-looking 
 novels under her waterproof. " And the provisions, Carry ? " 
 Carry showed a suspicious parcel filling the pocket of her 
 sack. " All right, then. Come, girls, trudge. Charge it," 
 she added, nodding to her host, as they passed towards the 
 door. " I '11 pay you when my quarter's allowance comes." 
 
 " No, Kate," interposed Carry, producing her purse ; 
 " let me pay it 's my turn." 
 
 " Never ! " said Kate, arching her black broAvs loftily ; 
 " even if you do have rich relatives and regular remittances 
 from California. Never. Come, girls forward, march ! " 
 
 As they opened the door a gust of wind nearly took them 
 off their feet. Kindhearted Mrs. Phillips was alarmed. 
 " Sakes alive ! gals, ye must n't go out in sich weather ; 
 better let me send word to the Institoot and make ye up a 
 nice bed to-night in my parlor." But the last sentence was 
 lost in a chorus of half-suppressed shrieks as the girls, hand 
 in hand, ran down the steps into the storm, and were at 
 once whirled away. * 
 
 The short December day, unlit by any sunset glow, was 
 failing fast. It was quite dark already, and the air was 
 thick with driving snow. For some distance their high 
 spirits, youth, and even inexperience kept them bravely up, 
 but in ambitiously attempting "a short cut from the high- 
 road across an open field their strength gave out, the laugh 
 grew less frequent, and tears began to stand in Carry's 
 brown eyes. When they reached the road again they were 
 utterly exhausted. " Let us go back," said Carry. 
 
 " We 'd never get across that field again," said Addy. 
 
 " Let 's stop at the first house, then," said Carry. 
 . ""The first house," said Addy, peering through the
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 155 
 
 gathering darkness, " is Squire Robinson's." She darted a 
 mischievous glance at Carry that even in her discomfort 
 and fear brought the quick blood to her cheek. 
 
 " Oh yes," said Kate with gloomy irony, " certainly, stop 
 at the Squire's, by all means, and be invited to tea, and be 
 driven home after tea by your dear friend Mr. Harry, with 
 a formal apology from Mrs. Robinson, and hopes that the 
 young ladies may be excused this time. No," continued 
 Kate with sudden energy, " that may suit you ; but I 'm 
 going back as I came, by the window, or not at all." 
 Then she pounced suddenly, like a hawk, on Carry, who 
 was betraying a tendency to sit down on a snowbank and 
 whimper, arid shook her briskly. " You '11 be going to sleep 
 next. Stay hold your tongues, all of you what 's 
 that ? " 
 
 It was the sound of sleigh-bells. Coming down toward 
 them out of the darkness was a sleigh with a single 
 occupant. " Hold down your heads, girls, if it 's anybody 
 that knows us we 're lost." But it was not, for a voice 
 strange to their ears, but withal very kindly and pleasant, 
 asked if its owner could be of any help to them. As they 
 turned toward him they saw it was a man wrapped in a 
 handsome sealskin cloak, wearing a sealskin cap, his face, 
 half concealed by a muffler of the same material, disclosing 
 only a pair of long mustaches and two keen dark eyes. 
 " It 's a son of old Santa Claus," whispered Addy. The 
 girls tittered audibly as they tumbled into the sleigh they 
 had regained their former spirits. " Where shall I take 
 you ? " said the stranger quietly. There was a hurried 
 whispering, and then Kate said boldly, " To the Institute." 
 They drove silently up the hill until the long ascetic build- 
 ing loomed up before them. The stranger reined up 
 suddenly. " You know the way better than I," he said ; 
 " where do you go in ? " " Through the back window," 
 said Kate with sudden and appalling frankness. " I see ' y>
 
 156 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 responded their strange driver quietly, and alighting quickly 
 removed the bells from the horses. "We can drive as 
 near as you please now," he added by way of explanation. 
 " He certainly is a son of Santa Glaus," whispered Addy ; 
 " had n't we better ask after his father ? " " Hush," said 
 Kate decidedly. " He is an angel, I dare say." She added 
 with a delicious irrelevance, which was, however, perfectly 
 understood by her feminine auditors, " We are looking 
 like three frights." 
 
 Cautiously skirting the fences, they at last pulled up 
 a few feet from a dark Avail. The stranger proceeded to 
 assist them to alight. There was still some light from the 
 reflected snow, and as he handed his fair companions to the 
 ground each was conscious of undergoing an intense though 
 respectful scrutiny. He assisted them gravely to open the 
 window, and then discreetly retired to the sleigh until the 
 difficult and somewhat discomposing ingress was made. 
 He then walked to the window. " Thank you and good- 
 night," whispered three voices. A single figure still lin- 
 gered. The stranger leaned over the window-sill. " Will 
 you permit me to light my cigar here ? it might attract 
 attention if I struck a match outside." By the upspringing 
 light he saw the figure of Kate very charmingly framed in 
 by the window. The match burned slowly out in his 
 fingers. Kate smiled mischievously. The astute young 
 woman had detected the pitiable subterfuge. For what else 
 did she stand at the head of her class, and for what else 
 had doting parents paid three years' tuition ? 
 
 The storm had passed, and the sun was shining quite 
 cheerily in the eastern recitation-room the next morning, 
 when Miss Kate, whose seat was nearest the window, 
 placing her hand pathetically upon her heart, affected to 
 fall in bashful and extreme agitation upon the shoulder of 
 Carry, her neighbor. " He has come ! " she gasped in a 
 thrilling whisper. " Who ? " asked Carry sympathetically,
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 157 
 
 who never clearly understood when Kate was in earnest. 
 "Who ? why, the man who rescued us last night ! I saw 
 him drive to the door this moment. Don't speak I shall 
 be better in a moment ; there ! " she said, and the shameless 
 hypocrite passed her hand pathetically across her forehead 
 with a tragic air. 
 
 " What can he want ? " asked Carry, whose curiosity was 
 excited. 
 
 " I don't know," said Kate, suddenly relapsing into 
 gloomy cynicism. " Possibly to put his five daughters to 
 school. Perhaps to finish his young wife and warn her 
 against us." 
 
 " He did n't look old, and he did n't seem like a married 
 man," rejoined Addy thoughtfully. 
 
 " That was his art, you poor creature ! " returned Kate 
 scornfully ; " you can never tell anything of these men 
 they are so deceitful. Besides, it 's just my fate ! " 
 
 ''Why, Kate " began Carry, in serious concern. 
 
 " Hush, Miss Walker is saying something," said Kate, 
 laughing. 
 
 " The young ladies will please give attention," said a 
 slow perfunctory voice. " Miss Carry Tretherick is wanted 
 in the parlor." 
 
 Meantime Mr. Jack Prince, the name given on the card 
 and various letters and credentials submitted to the Rev. 
 Mr. Crammer, paced the somewhat severe apartment known 
 publicly as the " Reception Parlor," and privately to the 
 pupils as " Purgatory." His keen eyes had taken in the 
 various rigid details, from the flat steam " radiator " like 
 an enormous japanned soda-cracker, that heated one end of 
 the room, to the monumental bust of Dr. Crammer that 
 hopelessly chilled the other ; from the Lord's Prayer 
 executed by a former writing-master in such gratuitous 
 variety of elegant caligraphic trifling as to considerably 
 abate the serious value of the composition, to three views
 
 158 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 of Genoa from the Institute, which nobody ever recognized, 
 taken on the spot by the drawing teacher ; from two illu- 
 minated texts of Scripture in an English letter, so gratui- 
 tously and hideously remote as to chill all human interest, 
 .to a large photograph of the senior class, in which the 
 prettiest girls were Ethiopian in complexion, and sat (appar- 
 ently) on each other's heads and shoulders ; his fingers 
 had turned listlessly the leaves of school catalogues, the 
 Sermons of Dr. Crammer, the Poems of Henry Kirke 
 White, the " Lays of the Sanctuary," and " Lives of Cele- 
 brated Women ; " his fancy, and it was a nervously active 
 one, had gone over the partings and greetings that must 
 have taken place here, and wondered why the apartment 
 had yet caught so little of the flavor of humanity ; 
 indeed, I am afraid he had almost forgotten the object of 
 his visit when the door opened and Carry Tretherick stood 
 before him. 
 
 It was one of those faces he had seen the night before, 
 prettier even than it had seemed then, and yet I think 
 he was conscious of some disappointment, without knowing 
 exactly why. Her abundant waving hair was of a guinea- 
 golden tint, her complexion of a peculiar flower-like deli- 
 cacy, her brown eyes of the color of seaweed in deep water. 
 It certainly was not her beauty that disappointed him. 
 
 Without possessing his sensitiveness to impression, Carry 
 was, on her part, quite as vaguely ill at ease. She saw 
 before her one of those men whom the sex would vaguely 
 generalize as " nice," -r- that is to say, correct in all the 
 superficial appointments of style, dress, manners, and fea- 
 ture ; yet there was a decidedly unconventional quality 
 about him he was totally unlike anything or anybody 
 that she could remember, and, as the attributes of origi- 
 nality are often as apt ,to alarm as to attract people, she 
 was not entirely prepossessed in his favor. 
 
 " I can hardly hope," he began pleasantly. " that you
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 159 
 
 remember me. It is eleven years ago, and you were a very 
 little girl. I am afraid I cannot even claim to have enjoyed 
 that familiarity that might exist between a child of six and 
 a young man of twenty-one. I don't think I was fond of 
 children. But I knew your mother very well. I was 
 editor of the ' Avalanche ' in Fiddletown when she took 
 you to San Francisco." 
 
 " You mean my stepmother ; she was n't my mother, you 
 know," interposed Carry hastily. 
 
 Mr. Prince looked at her curiously. " I mean your step- 
 mother," he said gravely. " I never had the pleasure of 
 meeting your mother." 
 
 "No, mother hasn't been in California these twelve 
 years." 
 
 There was an intentional emphasizing of the title and of 
 its distinction, that began to coldly interest Prince after his 
 first astonishment was past. 
 
 " As I come from your stepmother now," he went on, 
 with a slight laugh, " I must ask you to go back for a few 
 moments to that point. After your father's death, your 
 mother I mean your stepmother recognized the fact 
 that your mother, the first Mrs. Tretherick, was legally and 
 morally your guardian, and, although much against her 
 inclination and affections, placed you again in her charge." 
 
 " My stepmother married again within a month after 
 father died, and sent me home," said Carry with great 
 directness, and the faintest toss of her head. 
 . Mr. Prince smiled so sweetly, and apparently so sym- 
 pathetically, that Carry began to like him. With no other 
 notice of the interruption he went on : " After your step- 
 mother had performed this act of simple justice, she entered 
 into an agreement with your mother to defray the expenses 
 of your education until your eighteenth year, when you 
 were to elect and choose which of the two should thereafter 
 be your guardian, and with whom you would make your
 
 160 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 home. This agreement, I think, you are already aware of, 
 and I 'believe knew at the time." 
 
 " I was a mere child then," said Carry. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Prince with the same smile ; " still 
 the conditions, I think, have never been oppressive to you 
 nor your mother, and the only time they are likely to give 
 you the least uneasiness will be when you come to make up 
 your mind in the choice of your guardian. That will be on 
 your eighteenth birthday, the 20th, I think, of the present 
 month." 
 
 Carry was silent. 
 
 " Pray do not think that I am here to receive your 
 decision, even if it be already made. I only came to 
 inform you that your stepmother, Mrs. Starbottle, will be in 
 town to-morrow, and will pass a few days at the hotel. If 
 it is your wish to see her before you make up your mind, she 
 will be glad to meet you. She does not, however, wish to 
 do anything to influence your judgment." 
 
 " Does mother know she is coming ? " said Carry hastily. 
 
 " I do not know," said Prince gravely. " I only know 
 that if you conclude to see Mrs. Starbottle, it will be with 
 your mother's permission. Mrs. Starbottle will keep sa- 
 credly this part of the agreement, made ten years ago. But 
 her health is very poor, and the change and country quiet of 
 a few days -may benefit her." Mr. Prince bent his keen, 
 bright eyes upon the young girl, and almost held his breath 
 until she spoke again. 
 
 " Mother 's coming up to-day or to-morrow," she said,. 
 looking up. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mr. Prince, with a sweet and languid smile. 
 
 " Is Colonel Starbottle here too ? " asked Carry after a 
 pause. 
 
 " Colonel Starbottle is dead ; your stepmother is again a 
 widow." 
 
 " Dead ! " repeated Carry.
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 161 
 
 " Yes," replied Mr. Prince, " your stepmother has been 
 singularly unfortunate in surviving her affections." 
 
 Carry did not know what he meant, and looked so. Mr. 
 Prince smiled reassuringly. 
 
 Presently Carry began to whimper. 
 
 Mr. Prince softly stepped beside her chair. 
 
 " I am afraid," he said, with a very peculiar light in his 
 eye, and a singular dropping of the corners of his mustache, 
 "I am afraid you are taking this too deeply. It will be 
 some days before you are called upon to make a decision, 
 Let us talk of something else. I hope you caught no cold 
 last evening." 
 
 Carry's face shone out again in dimples. 
 
 " You must have thought us so queer ! It was too bad 
 to give you so much trouble." 
 
 " None whatever, I assure you. My sense of propriety," 
 he added demurely, "which might have been outraged had 
 I been called upon to help three young ladies out of a 
 schoolroom window at night, was deeply gratified at being 
 able to assist them in again." The door-bell rang loudly, 
 and Mr. Prince rose. " Take your own time, and think 
 well before you make your decision." But Carry's ear and 
 attention were given to the sound of voices in the hall. At 
 the same moment the door was thrown open and a servant 
 announced, "Mrs. Tretherick and Mr. Robinson." 
 
 The afternoon train had just shrieked out its usual 
 indignant protest at stopping at Genoa at all, as Mr. Jack 
 Prince entered the outskirts of the town and drove towards 
 his hotel. He was wearied and cynical ; a drive of a dozen 
 miles through unpicturesque outlying villages, past small 
 economic farmhouses and hideous villas that violated his 
 fastidious taste, had, I fear, left that gentleman in a captious 
 state of mind. He would have even avoided his taciturn 
 landlord as he drove up to the door, but that functionary 
 waylaid him on the steps. " There 's a lady in the sittin'-
 
 162 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 room waitin' for ye." Mr. Prince hurried upstairs and 
 entered the room as Mrs. Starbottle ^ew towards him. 
 
 She had changed sadly in the last ten years. Her figure 
 was wasted to half its size ; the beautiful curves of her bust 
 and shoulders were broken or inverted ; the once full, 
 rounded arm was shrunken in its sleeve, and the golden 
 hoops that encircled her wan wrists almost slipped from 
 her hands as her long, scant fingers closed convulsively 
 around Jack's. Her cheek-bones were painted that after- 
 noon with the hectic of fever ; somewhere in the hollows of 
 those cheeks were buried the dimples of long ago, but their 
 graves were forgotten ; her lustrous eyes were still beautiful, 
 though the orbits were deeper than before ; her mouth was 
 still sweet, although the lips parted more easily over the 
 little teeth, and even in breathing, and showed more of 
 them than she was wont to do before. The glory of her 
 blonde hair was still left ; it was finer, more silken and 
 ethereal, yet it failed even in its plenitude to cover the hol- 
 lows of the blue-veined temples. 
 
 " Clara," said Jack reproachfully. 
 
 " Oh, forgive me, Jack," she said, falling into a chair, but 
 still clinging to his hand, " forgive me, dear, but I could 
 not wait longer. I should have died, Jack, died before an- 
 other night. Bear with me a little longer, it will not be 
 long, but let me stay. I may not see her, I know I 
 shall not speak to her but it's so sweet to feel that I am 
 at last near her that I breathe the same air with my 
 darling I am better already, Jack, I am indeed. And 
 you have seen her to-day ? How did she look ? what did 
 she say ? tell me all everything, Jack. Was she beau- 
 tiful ? they say she is ! Has she grown ? Would you have 
 known her again ? Will she come, Jack ? Perhaps she has 
 been here already perhaps" she had risen with tremu- 
 lous excitement, and was glancing at the door, " perhaps 
 ehe is here now. Why don't you speak, Jack ? tell me all."
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 163 
 
 The keen eyes that looked down into hers were glisten- 
 ing with an infinite tenderness that none perhaps but she 
 would have deemed them capable of. " Clara," he said 
 gently and cheerily, " try and compose yourself. You are 
 trembling now with the fatigue and excitement of your 
 journey. I have seen Carry she is well and beautiful! 
 Let that suffice you now." 
 
 His gentle firmness composed and calmed her now as it 
 had often done before. Stroking her thin hand, he said 
 after a pause, " Did Carry ever write to you ? " 
 
 "Twice thanking me for some presents; they were 
 only schoolgirl letters," she added, nervously answering the 
 interrogation of his eyes. 
 
 " Did she ever know of your own troubles ? of your pov- 
 erty ? of the sacrifices you made to pay her bills ? of your 
 pawning your clothes and jewels ? of your " 
 
 " No, no," interrupted the woman quickl} r , " no ! How 
 could she ? I have no enemy cruel enough to tell her 
 that." 
 
 " But if she or if Mrs. Tretherick had heard of it ? 
 It Carry thought you were poor and unable to support her 
 properly, it might influence her decision. Young girls are 
 fond of the position that wealth can give. She may have 
 rich friends maybe a lover." 
 
 Mrs. Starbottle winced at the last sentence. " But," she 
 said eagerly, grasping Jack's hand, " when you found me 
 sick and helpless at Sacramento ; when you God bless 
 you for it, Jack ! offered to help me to the East, you said 
 you knew of something you had some plan that would 
 make me and Carry independent." 
 
 " Yes," said Jack hastily, " but I want you to get strong 
 and well first. And now that you are calmer, you shall 
 listen to my visit to the school." 
 
 It was then that Mr. Jack Prince proceeded to describe 
 the interview already recorded with a singular felicity and
 
 164 AN EPISODE 07 FIDDLETOWX 
 
 discretion that shames my own account of that proceeding. 
 Without suppressing a single fact, without omitting a word 
 or detail, he yet managed to throw a poetic veil over that 
 prosaic episode, to invest the heroine with a romantic 
 roseate atmosphere, which, though not perhaps entirely 
 imaginary, still I fear exhibited that genius which ten years 
 ago had made the columns of the " Fiddletown Avalanche " 
 at once fascinating and instructive. It was not until he saAV 
 the heightening color, and heard the quick breathing of his 
 eager listener, that he felt a pang of self-reproach. " God 
 help her and forgive me," he muttered between his clenched 
 teeth, " but how can I tell her all now ! " 
 
 That night when Mrs. Starbottle laid her weary head 
 upon her pillow she tried to picture to herself Carry at the 
 same moment sleeping peacefully in the great schoolhouse 
 on the hill, and it was a rare comfort to this yearning, fool- 
 ish woman to know that she was so near. But at this 
 moment Carry was sitting on the edge of her bed, half 
 undressed, pouting her pretty lips, and twisting her long, 
 leonine locks between her fingers, as Miss Kate Van Corlear, 
 dramatically wrapped in a long white counterpane, her 
 black eyes sparkling, and her thoroughbred nose thrown 
 high in the air, stood over her like a wrathful and indig- 
 nant ghost ; for Carry had that evening imparted her woes 
 and her history to Miss Kate, and that young lady had 
 " proved herself no friend," by falling into a state of fiery 
 indignation over Carry's " ingratitude," and openly and 
 shamelessly espousing the claims of Mrs. Starbottle. 
 " Why, if the half you tell me is true, your mother and 
 those Robinsons are making of you not only a little coward, 
 but a little snob, miss. Respectability, forsooth! Look 
 you ! my family are centuries before the Trethericks, but if 
 my family had ever treated me in this way, and then asked 
 me to turn my back on my best friend, I 'd whistle them 
 down the wind ! " and here Kate snapped her fingers, bent
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 165 
 
 her black brows, and glared around the room, as if in search 
 of a recreant Van Corlear. 
 
 " You just talk this way because you have taken a fancy 
 to that Mr. Prince," said Carry. 
 
 In the debasing slang of the period that had even found 
 its way into the virgin cloisters of the Crammer Institute, 
 Miss Kate, as she afterwards expressed it, instantly " went 
 for her." 
 
 First, with a shake of her head she threw her long black 
 hair over one shoulder, then dropping one end of the coun- 
 terpane from the other like a vestal tunic, she stepped 
 before Carry with a purposely exaggerated classic stride. 
 " And what if I have, miss ? What if I happen to know a 
 gentleman when I see him ? What if I happen to know 
 that among a thousand such traditional, conventional, feeble 
 editions of their grandfathers as Mr. Harry Robinson, you 
 cannot find one original, independent, individualized gentle- 
 man like your Prince ! Go to bed, miss ! and pray to Hea- 
 ven that he may be your Prince indeed ! Ask to have a 
 contrite and grateful heart, and thank the Lord in particular 
 for having sent you such a friend as Kate Van Corlear ! " 
 Yet, after an imposing dramatic exit, she reappeared the 
 next moment as a straight white flash, kissed Carry between 
 the brows, and was gone. 
 
 The next day was a weary one to Jack Prince. He was 
 convinced in his mind that Carry would not come, yet to 
 keep this consciousness from Mrs. Starbottle, to meet her 
 simple hopefulness with an equal degree of apparent faith, 
 was a hard and difficult task. He would have tried to 
 divert her mind by taking her on a long drive, but she was 
 fearful that Carry might come during her absence, and her 
 strength, he was obliged to admit, had failed greatly. As 
 he looked into her large and awe-inspiring clear eyes, a 
 something he tried to keep from his mind to put off day 
 by day from contemplation kept asserting itself directly
 
 166 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 to his inner consciousness. He began to doubt the expe- 
 diency and wisdom of his management ; lie recalled every 
 incident of his interview with Carry, and half believed 
 that its failure was due to himself. Yet Mrs. Starbottle was 
 very patient and confident ; her very confidence shook his 
 faith in his own judgment. When her strength was equal 
 to the exertion, she was propped up in her chair by the 
 window, where she could see the school and the entrance 
 to the hotel. In the intervals she would elaborate pleasant 
 plans for the future, and would sketch a country home. 
 She had taken a strange fancy, as it seemed to Prince, to 
 the present location, but it was notable that the future 
 always thus outlined was one of quiet and repose. She 
 believed she would get well soon ; in fact she thought she 
 was now much better than she had been, but it might be 
 long before she should be quite strong again. She would 
 whisper on in this way until Jack would dash madly down 
 into the bar-room, order liquors that he did not drink, 
 light cigars that he did not smoke, talk with men that he 
 did not listen to, arid behave generally as our stronger sex 
 is apt to do in periods of delicate trials and perplexity. 
 
 The day closed with a clouded sky and a bitter searching 
 wind. With the night fell a few wandering flakes of snow. 
 She was still content and hopeful, and as Jack wheeled her 
 from the window to the fire, she explained to him how that, 
 as the school-term was drawing near its close, Carry was 
 probably kept closely at her lessons during the day, and 
 could only leave the school at night. So she sat up the 
 greater part of the evening and combed her silken hair, and 
 as far as her strength would allow made an undress toilette 
 to receive her guest. " We must not frighten the child, 
 Jack," she said apologetically and with something of her 
 old coquetry. 
 
 It was with a feeling of relief that, at ten o'clock, Jack 
 received a message from the landlord, saying that the
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 167 
 
 doctor would like to see him for a moment downstairs. As 
 Jack entered the grim, dimly lighted parlor, he observed 
 the hooded figure of a woman near the fire. He was about 
 to withdraw again, when a voice that he remembered very 
 pleasantly said, 
 
 " Oh, it's all right. I'm the doctor." 
 
 The hood was thrown back, and Prince saw the shin- 
 ing black hair, and black, audacious eyes, of Kate Van 
 Corlear. 
 
 " Don't ask any question. I 'm the doctor, and there 's 
 my prescription," and she pointed to the half-frightened, 
 half-sobbing Carry in the corner ; " to be taken at once ! " 
 
 " Then Mrs. Tretherick has given her permission ? " 
 
 "Not much, if I know the sentiments of that lady," 
 replied Kate saucily. 
 
 " Then how did you get away ? " asked Prince gravely. 
 
 " BY THE WINDOW." 
 
 When Mr. Prince had left Carry in the arms of her 
 stepmother, he returned to the parlor. 
 
 " Well ? " demanded Kate. 
 
 " She will stay you will, I hope, also, to-night." 
 
 " As I shall not be eighteen and my own mistress on the 
 20th, and as I haven't a sick stepmother, I won't." 
 
 " Then you will give me the pleasure of seeing you safely 
 through the window again ? " 
 
 When Mr. Prince returned an hour later, he found Carry 
 sitting on a low stool at Mrs. Starbottle's feet. Her head 
 was in her stepmother's lap, and she had sobbed herself to 
 sleep. Mrs. Starbottle put her finger to her lip. " I told 
 you she would come. God bless you, Jack, and good- 
 night." 
 
 The next morning Mrs. Tretherick, indignant, the Rev. 
 Asa Crammer, Principal, injured, and Mr. Joel Robinson, 
 Senior, complacently respectable, called upon Mr. Prince. 
 There was a stormy meeting, ending in a demand foi
 
 168 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 Carry. " We certainly cannot admit of this interference," 
 said Mrs. Tretherick, a fashionably dressed indistinctive- 
 looking woman ; " it is several days before the expiration of 
 our agreement, and we do not feel, under the circumstances, 
 justified in releasing Mrs. Starbottle from its conditions." 
 " Until the expiration of the school-term, we must consider 
 Miss Tretherick as complying entirely with its rules and 
 discipline," interposed Dr. Crammer. " The whole proceed- 
 ing is calculated to injure the prospects and compromise 
 the position of Miss Tretherick in society," suggested Mr. 
 Robinson. 
 
 In vain Mr. Prince urged the failing condition of Mrs. 
 Starbottle, her absolute freedom from complicity with Carry's 
 flight, the pardonable and natural instincts of the girl, and 
 his o"wn assurance that they were willing to abide by her 
 decision. And then, with a rising color in his cheek, a 
 dangerous look in his eye, but a singular calmness in his 
 speech, he added, 
 
 " One word more. It becomes my duty to inform you 
 of a circumstance which would certainly justify me, as an 
 executor of the late Mr. Tretherick, in fully resisting your 
 demands. A few months after Mr. Tretherick's death, 
 through the agency of a Chinaman in his employment it 
 was discovered that he had made a will, which was subse- 
 quently found among his papers. The insignificant value of 
 his bequest mostly land, then quite valueless prevented 
 his executors from carrying out his wishes, or from even, 
 proving the will, or making it otherwise publicly known, 
 until within the last two or three years, when the property 
 has enormously increased in value. The provisions of that 
 beqviest are simple, but unmistakable. The property is 
 divided between Carry and her stepmother, with the explicit 
 condition that Mrs. Starbottle shall become her legal guard- 
 ian, provide for her education, and in all details stand to her 
 in loco parentis."
 
 AN EPISODE OF FJDDLETOWN 169 
 
 " What is the value of this bequest ? " asked Mr. Kobin- 
 son. " I cannot tell exactly, but not far from half a million, 
 I should say," returned Prince. " Certainly, with this 
 knowledge, as a friend of Miss Tretherick, I must say that 
 her conduct is as judicious as it is honorable to her," re- 
 sponded Mr. Robinson. " I shall not presume to question 
 the wishes or throw any obstacles in the way of carrying out 
 the intentions of my dead husband," added Mrs. Tretherick, 
 and the interview was closed. 
 
 When its result was made known to Mrs. Starbottle, she 
 raised Jack's hand to her feverish lips. " It cannot add to 
 my happiness now, Jack ; but tell me, why did you keep it 
 from her ? " Jack smiled, but did not reply. 
 
 Within the next week the necessary legal formalities were 
 concluded, and Carry was restored to her stepmother. At 
 Mrs. Starbottle's request a small house in the outskirts of 
 the town was procured, and thither they removed to wait 
 the spring and Mrs. Starbottle's convalescence. Both came 
 tardily that year. 
 
 Yet she was happy and patient. She was fond of watching 
 the budding of the trees beyond her window, a novel sight 
 to her California!! experience, and of asking Carry their 
 names and seasons. Even at this time she projected "for 
 that summer, which seemed to her so mysteriously withheld, 
 long walks with Carry through the leafy woods whose gray, 
 misty ranks she could see along the hilltop. She even 
 thought she could write poetry about them, and recalled 
 the fact as evidence of her gaining strength ; and there is, I 
 believe, still treasured by one of the members of this little 
 household, a little carol, so joyous, so simple, and so innocent 
 that it might have been an echo of the robin that called to 
 her from the window, as perhaps it was. 
 
 And then, without warning, there dropped from heaven 
 a day so tender, so mystically soft, so dreamily beautiful, so 
 throbbing and alive with the fluttering of invisible wings, so
 
 170 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN 
 
 replete and bounteously overflowing with an awakening and 
 joyous resurrection not taught by man or limited by creed, 
 that they thought it fit to bring her out and lay her in that 
 glorious sunshine that sprinkled like the droppings of a 
 bridal torch the happy lintels and doors. And there she 
 lay, beatified and calm. 
 
 Wearied by watching, Carry had fallen asleep by her 
 side, and Mrs. Starbottle's thin fingers lay like a benedic- 
 tion on her head. Presently she called Jack to her side. 
 
 " Who was that ? " she whispered ; " who just came in ? " 
 
 "Miss Van Corlear," said Jack, answering the look in 
 her great hollow eyes. 
 
 " Jack," she said after a moment's silence, " sit by me a 
 moment, dear Jack ; I've something I must say. If I ever 
 seemed hard or cold or coquettish to you in the old days, it 
 was because I loved you, Jack, too well to mar your future 
 by linking it with my own. I always loved you, dear Jack, 
 even when I seemed least worthy of you. That is gone 
 now; but I had a dream lately, Jack, a foolish woman's 
 dream, that you might find what I lacked in her," and she 
 glanced lovingly at the sleeping girl at her side ; " that 
 you might love her as you have loved me. But even that 
 is hot to be, Jack is it ? " and she glanced wistfully in 
 his face. Jack pressed her hand, but did not speak. After 
 a few moments' silence she again said, " Perhaps you are 
 right in your choice. She is a good-hearted girl, Jack 
 but a little bold." 
 
 And with this last nicker of foolish, weak humanity in 
 her struggling spirit, she spoke no more. When they came 
 to her a moment later, a tiny bird that had lit upon her 
 breast flew away, and the hand that they lifted from Carry's 
 head fell lifeless at her side.
 
 A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN 
 OAKHURST 
 
 HE always thought it must have been Fate. Certainly 
 nothing could have been more inconsistent with his habits 
 than to have been in the Plaza at seven o'clock of that 
 midsummer morning. The sight of his colorless face in 
 Sacramento was rare at that season, and indeed at any 
 season, anywhere, publicly, before two o'clock in the after- 
 noon. Looking back upon it in after years, in the light of 
 a chanceful life, he determined, with the characteristic 
 philosophy of his profession, that it must have been Fate. 
 
 Yet it is my duty, as a strict chronicler of facts, to state 
 that Mr. Oakhurst's presence there that morning was due 
 to a very simple cause. At exactly half past six, the bank 
 being then a winner to the amount of twenty thousand 
 dollars, he had risen from the faro-table, relinquished his 
 seat to an accomplished assistant, and withdrawn quietly, 
 without attracting a glance from the silent, anxious faces 
 bowed over the table. But when he entered his luxurious 
 sleeping -room, across the passage way, he was a little 
 shocked at finding the sun streaming through an inadvert- 
 ently opened window. Something in the rare beauty of 
 the morning, perhaps something in the novelty of the idea, 
 struck him as he was about to close the blinds, and he 
 hesitated. Then, taking his hat from the table, he stepped 
 down a private staircase into the street. 
 
 The people who were abroad at that early hour were of 
 a class quite unknown to Mr. Oakhurst. There were 
 milkmen and hucksters delivering their wares, small
 
 172 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 
 
 tradespeople opening their shops, housemaids sweeping 
 doorsteps, and occasionally a child. These Mr. OaKhurst 
 regarded with a certain cold curiosity, perhaps quite free 
 from the cynical disfavor with which he generally looked 
 upon the more pretentious of his race whom he was in the 
 habit of meeting. Indeed, I think he was not altogether 
 displeased with the admiring glances which these humble 
 women threw after his handsome face and figure, conspic- 
 uous even in a country of fine-looking men. While it is 
 very probable that this wicked vagabond, in the pride of 
 his social isolation, would have been coldly indifferent to 
 the advances of a fine lady, a little girl who ran admiringly 
 by his side in a ragged dress had the power to call a faint 
 flush into his colorless cheek. He dismissed her at last, 
 but not until she had found out what sooner or later her 
 large-hearted and discriminating sex inevitably did that 
 he was exceedingly free and open-handed with his money, 
 and also what perhaps none other of her sex ever did 
 that the bold black eyes of this fine gentleman were in 
 reality of a brownish and even tender gray. 
 
 There was a small garden before a white cottage in a 
 side-street that attracted Mr. Oakhurst's attention. It was 
 filled with roses, heliotrope, and verbena, flowers familiar 
 enough to him in the expensive and more portable form of 
 bouquets, but, as it seemed to him then, never before so 
 notably lovely. Perhaps it was because the dew was yet 
 fresh upon them, perhaps it was because they were un- 
 plucked, but Mr. Oakhurst admired them, not as a possible 
 future tribute to the fascinating and accomplished Miss 
 Ethelinda, then performing at the Varieties, for Mr. Oak- 
 hurst's^ especial benefit, as she had often assured him ; nor 
 yet as a douceur to the enthralling Miss Montmorrissy, with 
 whom Mr. Oakhurst expected to sup that evening, but 
 simply for himself, and mayhap for the flowers' sake. How- 
 beit, he passed on, and so out into the open plaza, where,
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHUKST 172 
 
 finding a bench under a cottonwood-tree, he first dusted 
 the seat with his handkerchief, and then sat down. 
 
 It was a fine morning. The air was so still and calm 
 that a sigh from the sycamores seemed like the deep-drawn 
 breath of the just awakening tree, and the faint rustle of its 
 boughs as the outstretching of cramped and reviving limbs. 
 Far away the Sierras stood out against a sky so remote as 
 to be of no positive color, so remote that even the sun 
 despaired of ever reaching it, and so expended its strength 
 recklessly on the whole landscape, until it fairly glittered in 
 a white and vivid contrast. With a very rare impulse, Mr. 
 Oakhurst took off his hat, and half reclined on the bench, 
 with his face to the sky. Certain birds who had taken a 
 critical attitude on a spray above him apparently began an 
 animated discussion regarding his possible malevolent in- 
 tentions. One or two, emboldened by the silence, hopped 
 on the ground at his feet, until the sound of wheels on the 
 gravel walk frightened them away. 
 
 Looking up, he saw a man coming slowly towards him, 
 wheeling a nondescript vehicle in which a woman was partly 
 sitting, partly reclining. Witho\it knowing why, Mr. Oak- 
 hurst instantly conceived that the carriage was the invention 
 and workmanship of the man, partly from its oddity, partly 
 from the strong, mechanical hand that grasped it, and partly 
 from a certain pride and visible consciousness in the manner 
 in which the man handled it. Then Mr. Oakhurst saw 
 something more, the man's face was familiar. With that 
 regal faculty of not forgetting a face that had ever given 
 him professional audience, he instantly classified it under 
 the following mental formula : " At 'Frisco, Polka Saloon. 
 Lost his week's wages. I reckon seventy dollars on 
 red. Never came again." There was, however, no trace 
 of this in the calm eyes and unmoved face that he turned 
 upon the stranger, who, on the contrary, blushed, looked 
 embarrassed, hesitated, and then stopped with an involun
 
 174 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAEHUEST 
 
 tary motion that brought the carriage and its fair occupant 
 face to face with Mr. Oakhurst. 
 
 I should hardly do justice to the position she will occupy 
 in this veracious chronicle by describing the lady now if, 
 indeed, I am able to do it at all. Certainly, the popular 
 estimate was conflicting. The late Colonel Starbottle to 
 whose large experience of a charming sex I have before 
 been indebted for many valuable suggestions had, I re- 
 gret to say, depreciated her fascinations. " A yellow-faced 
 cripple, by dash a sick woman, with mahogany eyes. One 
 of your blanked spiritual creatures, with no flesh on her 
 bones." On the other hand, however, she enjoyed later 
 much complimentary disparagement from her own sex. 
 Miss Celestina Howard, second leader in the ballet at the 
 Varieties, had, with great alliterative directness, in after 
 years, denominated her as an " aquiline asp." Mile. 
 Brimborion remembered that she had always warned " Mr. 
 Jack " that this woman would " empoison " him. But Mr. 
 Oakhurst, whose impressions are perhaps the most impor- 
 tant, only saw a pale, thin, deep-eyed woman, raised above 
 the level of her companion by the refinement of long suffer- 
 ing and isolation, and a certain shy virginity of manner. 
 There was a suggestion of physical purity in the folds of her 
 fresh-looking robe, and a certain picturesque tastefulness in 
 the details, that, without knowing why, made him think 
 that the robe was her invention and handiwork, even as the 
 arriage she occupied was evidently the work of her com- 
 panion. Her own hand, a trifle too thin, but well-shaped, 
 subtle-fingered, and gentlewomanly, rested on the side of 
 the carriage, the counterpart of the strong mechanical grasp 
 of her companion's. 
 
 There was some obstruction to the progress of the vehicle, 
 and Mr. Oakhurst stepped forward to assist. While the 
 wheel was being lifted over the curbstone, it was necessary 
 that she should hold his arm, and for a moment her thin
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 175 
 
 hand rested there, light and cold as a snowflake, and then 
 
 as it seemed to him like a snowflake melted away. 
 Then there was a pause, and then conversation the lady 
 joining occasionally and shyly. 
 
 It appeared that they were man and wife. That for the 
 past two years she had been a great invalid, and had lost 
 the use of her lower limbs from rheumatism. That until 
 lately she had been confined to her bed, until her husband 
 
 who was a master carpenter had bethought himself to 
 make her this carriage. He took her out regularly for an 
 airing before going to work, because it was his only time, 
 and they attracted less attention. They had tried many 
 doctors, but without avail. They had been advised to go 
 to the Sulphur Springs, but it was expensive. Mr. Decker, 
 the husband, had once saved eighty dollars for that purpose, 
 but while in San Francisco had his pocket picked Mr. 
 Decker was so senseless. (The intelligent reader need nol 
 be told that it is the lady who is speaking.) They had 
 never been able to make up the sum again, and they had 
 given up the idea. It was a dreadful thing to have one's 
 pocket picked. Did he not think so ? 
 
 Her husband's face was crimson, but Mr. Oakhurst's 
 countenance was quite calm and unmoved, as he gravely 
 agreed with her, and walked by her side until they passed, 
 the little garden that he had admired. Here Mr. Oakhurst 
 commanded a halt, and, going to the door, astounded the 
 proprietor by a preposterously extravagant offer for a choice 
 of the flowers. Presently he returned to the carriage with 
 his arms full of roses, heliotrope, and verbena, and cast 
 them in the lap of the invalid. While she was bending 
 over them with childish delight, Mr. Oakhurst took the 
 opportunity of drawing her husband aside. 
 
 " Perhaps," he said in a low voice, and a manner quite 
 free from any personal annoyance, " perhaps it 's just as 
 well that you lied to her as you did. You can say now that
 
 176 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 
 
 the pickpocket was arrested the other day, and you got 
 your money back." Mr. Oakhurst quietly slipped four 
 twenty-dollar gold - pieces into the broad hand of the be- 
 wildered Mr. Decker. " Say that or anything you like 
 but the truth. Promise me you won't say that ! " 
 
 The man promised. Mr. Oakhurst quietly returned to 
 the front of the little carriage. The sick woman was still 
 eagerly occupied with the flowers, and as she raised her 
 eyes to his, her faded cheek seemed to have caught some 
 color from the roses, and her eyes some of their dewy fresh- 
 ness. But at that instant Mr. Oakhurst lifted his hat, and 
 before she could thank him was gone. 
 
 I grieve to say that Mr. Decker shamelessly broke his 
 promise. That night, in the very goodness of his heart and 
 uxorious self-abnegation, he, like all devoted husbands, not 
 only offered himself, but his friend and benefactor, as a 
 sacrifice on the family altar. It is only fair, however, to 
 add that he spoke with great fervor of the generosity of 
 Mr. Oakhurst, and dealt with an enthusiasm quite common 
 with his class on the mysterious fame and prodigal vices of 
 the gambler. 
 
 " And now, Elsie, dear, say that you '11 forgive me," said 
 Mr. Decker, dropping on one knee beside his wife's couch. 
 " I did it for the best. It was for you, dearey, that I put 
 that money on them cards that night in 'Frisco. I thought 
 to win a heap, enough to take you away, and enough left 
 to get you a new dress." 
 
 Mrs. Decker smiled and pressed her husband's hand. 
 " I do forgive you, Joe, dear," she said, still smiling, with 
 eyes abstractedly fixed on the ceiling ; " and you ought to be 
 whipped for deceiving me so, you bad boy, and making me 
 make such a speech. There, say no more about it. If 
 you '11 be very good hereafter, and will just now hand me 
 that cluster of roses, I'll forgive you." She took the 
 branch in her fingers, lifted the roses to her face, and pre- 
 sently said, behind their leaves,
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHUKST 177 
 
 " Joe ! " 
 
 " What is it, lovey ? " 
 
 " Do you think that this Mr. what do you call him 
 Jack Oakhurst would have given that money back to 
 you if I had n't made that speech ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " If he had n't seen me at all ? " 
 
 Mr. Decker looked up. > His wife had managed in some 
 way to cover up her whole face with the roses, except her 
 eyes, which were dangerously bright. 
 
 " No ; it was you, Elsie it was all along of seeing you 
 that made him do it." 
 
 ." A poor sick woman like me ? " 
 
 "A sweet, little, lovely, pooty Elsie Joe's own little 
 wifey ! How could he help it ? " 
 
 Mrs. Decker fondly cast one arm around her husband's 
 neck, still keeping the roses to her face with the other. 
 From behind them she began to murmur gently and idiot- 
 ically, u Dear, ole square Joey. Elsie's oney booful big 
 bear." But, really, I do not see that my duty as a chroni- 
 cler of facts compels me to continue this little lady's speech 
 any further, and out of respect to the unmarried reader I 
 stop. 
 
 Nevertheless, the next morning Mrs. Decker betrayed 
 some slight and apparently uncalled-for irritability on reach- 
 ing the plaza, and presently desired her husband to wheel 
 her back home. Moreover, she was very much astonished 
 at meeting Mr. Oakhurst just as they were returning, and 
 even doubted if it were he, and questioned her husband as 
 to his identity with the stranger of yesterday as he ap- 
 proached. Her manner to Mr. Oakhurst, also, was quite in 
 contrast with her husband's frank welcome. Mr. Oakhurst 
 instantly detected it. " Her husband has told her all, and 
 she dislikes me," he said to himself, with that fatal appre- 
 ciation of the half-truths of a woman's motives that cause?
 
 178 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 
 
 the wisest masculine critic to stumble. He lingered only 
 long enough to take the business address of the husband, 
 and then, lifting his hat gravely, without looking at the 
 lady, went his way. It struck the honest master carpenter 
 as one of the charming anomalies of his wife's character 
 that, although the meeting was evidently very much con- 
 strained and unpleasant, instantly afterward his wife's spir- 
 its began to rise. " You was hard on him a leetle hard, 
 was n't you, Elsie ? " said Mr. Decker deprecatingly. " I 'm 
 afraid he may think I've broke my promise." "Ah, in- 
 deed," said the lady indifferently. Mr. Decker instantly 
 stepped round to the front of the vehicle. " You look like 
 an A 1 first-class lady riding down Broadway in her own 
 carriage, Elsie," said he ; "I never seed you lookin' so 
 peart and sassy before." 
 
 A few days later the proprietor of the San Isabel Sulphur 
 Springs received the following note in Mr. Oakhurst's well- 
 known dainty hand : 
 
 DEAR STEVE, I've been thinking over your propo- 
 sition to buy Nichols's quarter interest and have concluded 
 to go in. But I don't see how the thing will pay until you 
 have more accommodation down there, and for the best class 
 I mean my customers. What we want is an extension to 
 the main building, and two or three cottages put up. I 
 send down a builder to take hold of the job at once. He 
 takes his sick wife with him, and you are to look after them 
 as you would for one of us. 
 
 I may run down there myself, after the races, just to 
 look after things ; but I sha'n't set upon any game this sea- 
 son. Yours always, 
 
 JOHN OAKHUKST. 
 
 It was only the last sentence of this letter that provoked 
 criticism. "I can understand," said Mr. Hamlin, a pro-
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 179 
 
 fessional brother, to whom Mr. Oakhurst's letter was 
 shown, "I can understand why Jack goes in heavy and 
 builds, for -it 's a sure spec, and is bound to be a mighty 
 soft thing in time, if he comes here regularly. But why in 
 blank he don't set up a bank this season and take the 
 chance of getting some of the money back that he puts into 
 circulation in building, is what gets me. I wonder now," 
 he mused deeply, " what is his little game." 
 
 The season had been a prosperous one to Mr. Oakhurst, 
 and proportionally disastrous to several members of the 
 Legislature, judges, colonels, and others who had enjoyed 
 but briefly the pleasure of Mr. Oakhurst's midnight society. 
 And yet Sacramento had become very dull to him. He 
 had lately formed a habit of early morning walks, so un- 
 usual and startling to his friends, both male and female, as 
 to occasion the intensest curiosity. Two or three of the 
 latter set spies upon his track, but the inquisition resulted 
 only in the discovery that Mr. Oakhurst walked to the 
 plaza, sat down upon one particular bench for a few mo- 
 ments, and then returned without seeing anybody, and the 
 theory that there Avas a woman in the case was abandoned. 
 A few superstitious gentlemen of his own profession believed 
 that he did it for "luck." Some others, more practical, 
 declared that he went out to "study points." 
 
 After the races at Marysville, Mr. Oakhurst went to San 
 Francisco ; from that place he returned to Marysville, but 
 a few days after was seen at San Jose, Santa Cruz, and 
 Oakland. Those who met him declared that his manner 
 was restless and feverish, and quite unlike his ordinary 
 calmness and phlegm. Colonel Starbottle pointed out the 
 fact that at San Francisco, at the Club, Jack had declined to 
 deal. " Hand shaky, sir depend upon it ; don't stimu- 
 late enough blank him ! " 
 
 From San Jose he started to go to Oregon by land with 
 a rather expensive outfit of horses and camp equipage, but
 
 180 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 
 
 on reaching Stockton he suddenly diverged, and four hours 
 later found him, with a single horse, entering the canon of 
 the San Isabel Warm Sulphur Springs. 
 
 It was a pretty triangular valley lying at the foot of three 
 sloping mountains, dark with pines and fantastic with ma- 
 drono and manzanita. Nestling against the mountain-side, 
 the straggling buildings and long piazza of the hotel glit- 
 tered through the leaves ; and here and there shone a white 
 toy-like cottage. Mr. Oakhurst was not an admirer of 
 nature, but he felt something of the same novel satisfac- 
 tion in the view that he experienced in his first morning 
 walk in Sacramento. And now carriages began to pass 
 him on the road filled with gayly dressed women, and the 
 cold California outlines of the landscape began to take 
 upon themselves somewhat of a human warmth and color. 
 And then the long hotel piazza came in view, efflorescent 
 with the full-toileted fair. Mr. Oakhurst, a good rider 
 after the California fashion, did not check his speed as 
 he approached his destination, but charged the hotel at a 
 gallop, threw his horse on his haunches within a foot of the 
 piazza, and then quietly emerged from the cloud of dust 
 that veiled his dismounting. 
 
 Whatever feverish excitement might have raged within, 
 all his habitual calm returned as he stepped upon the 
 piazza. With the instinct of long habit he turned and faced 
 the battery of eyes with the same cold indifference with 
 which he had for years encountered the half-hidden sneers 
 of men and the half-frightened admiration of women. Only 
 one person stepped forward to welcome him. Oddly 
 enough, it was Dick Hamilton, perhaps the only one pre- 
 sent who, by birth, education, and position, might have 
 satisfied the most fastidious social critic. Happily for Mr. 
 Oakhurst's reputation, he was also a very rich banker and 
 social leader. " Do you know who that is you spoke to ? " 
 asked young Parker, with an alarmed expression. " Yes,"
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 181 
 
 replied Hamilton, with characteristic effrontery ; " the man 
 you lost a thousand dollars to last week. I only know him 
 sm'i(i//.y." " But isn't he a gambler ? " queried the young- 
 est Miss Smith. " He is," replied Hamilton ; " but I wish, 
 my dear young lady, that we all played as open and honest 
 a game as our friend yonder, and were as willing as he is to 
 abide by its fortunes." 
 
 But Mr. Oakhurst was happily out of hearing of this 
 colloquy, and was even then lounging listlessly, yet watch- 
 fully, along the upper hall. Suddenly he heard a light 
 footstep behind him, and then his name called in a familiar 
 voice that drew the blood quickly to his heart. He turned, 
 and she stood before bim. 
 
 But how transformed ! If I have hesitated to describe 
 the hollow-eyed cripple, = the quaintly dressed artisan's 
 wife, a few pages ago, what shall I do with this graceful, 
 shapely, elegantly attired gentlewoman into whom she has 
 been merged within these two months ? In good faith, she 
 was very pretty. You and I, my dear madam, would have 
 been quick to see that those charming dimples were mis- 
 placed for true beauty, and too fixed in their quality for 
 .honest mirthf ulness ; that the delicate lines around those 
 aquiline nostrils were cruel and selfish ; that the sweet, 
 virginal surprise of those lovely eyes was as apt to be 
 opened on her plate as upon the gallant speeches of her 
 dinner partner ; that her sympathetic color came and went 
 more with her own spirits than yours. But you and I are 
 not in love with her, dear madam, and Mr. Oakhurst is. 
 And even in the folds of her Parisian gown, I am afraid 
 this poor fellow saw the same subtle strokes of purity that 
 he had seen in her homespun robe. And then there was 
 the delightful revelation that she could walk, and that she 
 had dear little feet of her own in the tiniest slippers of her 
 French shoemaker, with such preposterous blue bows, and 
 Chappell's own stamp, Rue de something or other, Paris/ 
 on the narrow sole.
 
 182 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 
 
 He ran towards her with a heightened color and out- 
 stretched hands. But she whipped her own behind her, 
 glanced rapidly up and down the long hall, and stood 
 looking at him with a half-audacious, half-mischievous 
 admiration in utter contrast to her old reserve. 
 
 " I 've a great mind not to shake hands with you at all. 
 You passed me just now on the piazza without speaking, 
 and I ran after you, as I suppose many another poor woman 
 has done." 
 
 Mr. Oakhurst stammered that she was so changed. 
 
 " The more reason why you should know me. Who 
 changed me ? You. You have re-created me. You found 
 a helpless, crippled, sick, poverty-stricken woman, with one 
 dress to her back, and that her own make, and you gave 
 her life, health, strength, and fortune. You did, and you 
 know it, sir. How do you like your work ? " She caught 
 the side seams of her gown in either hand and dropped him 
 a playful courtesy. Then, with a sudden, relenting gesture, 
 she gave him both her hands. 
 
 Outrageous as this speech was, and unfeminine, as I trust 
 every fair reader will deem it, I fear it pleased Mr. Oak- 
 hurst. Not but that he was accustomed to a certain frank, 
 female admiration ; but then it was of the coulisses and 
 not of the cloister, with which he always persisted in 
 associating Mrs. Decker. To be addressed in this way by 
 an invalid Puritan, a sick saint, with the austerity of suffer- 
 ing still clothing her, a woman who had a Bible on the 
 dressing-table, who went to church three times a day, and 
 was devoted to her husband, completely bowled him over. 
 He still held her hands as she went on, 
 
 " Why did n't you come before ? What were you doing 
 in Marysville, in San Jose, in Oakland ? You see I have 
 followed you. I saw you as you came down the canon, 
 and knew you at once. I saw your letter to Joseph, and 
 knew you were coming. Why did n't you write to me ? 
 You will some time ! Good-evening, Mr. Hamilton."
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 183 
 
 She had withdrawn her hands, hut not until Hamilton, 
 ascending the staircase, was nearly ahreast of them. He 
 raised his hat to her with well-bred composure, nodded 
 familiarly to Oakhurst, and passed on. When he had gone 
 Mrs. Decker lifted her eyes to Mr. Oakhurst. " Some day 
 I shall ask a great favor of you ! " 
 
 Mr. Oakhurst begged that it should be now. " No, not 
 until you know me better. Then, some day, I shall want 
 you to kill that man ! " 
 
 She laughed, such a pleasant little ringing laugh, such a 
 display of dimples, albeit a little fixed in the corners of 
 her mouth, such an innocent light in her brown eyes, and 
 such a lovely color in her cheeks, that Mr. Oakhurst who 
 seldom laughed was fain to laugh too. It was as if 
 a lamb had proposed to a fox a foray into a neighboring 
 sheepfold. 
 
 A few evenings after this, Mrs. Decker arose from a 
 charmed circle of her admirers on the hotel piazza, excused 
 herself for a few moments, laughingly declined an escort, 
 and ran over to her little cottage one of her husband's 
 creation across the road. Perhaps from the sudden and 
 unwonted exercise in her still convalescent state, she 
 breathed hurriedly and feverishly as she entered her boudoir, 
 and once or twice placed her hand upon her breast. She 
 was startled on turning up the light to find her husband 
 lying on the sofa. 
 
 " You look hot and excited, Elsie, love," said Mr. 
 Decker ; " you ain't took worse, are you ? " 
 
 Mrs. Decker's face had paled, but now flushed again. 
 "No," she said, "only a little pain here," as she again 
 placed her hand upon her corsage. 
 
 " Can I do anything for you ? " said Mr. Decker, rising 
 with affectionate concern. 
 
 " Run over to the hotel and get me some brandy, 
 quick ! "
 
 184 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF ME. JOHN OAKHURST 
 
 Mr. Decker ran. Mrs. Decker closed and bolted the 
 door, and then putting her hand to her bosom, drew out 
 the pain. It was folded foursquare, and was, I grieve to 
 say, in Mr! Oakhurst's handwriting. 
 
 She devoured it with burning eyes and cheeks until there 
 came a step upon the porch. Then she hurriedly replaced 
 it in her bosom and unbolted the door. Her husband 
 entered ; she raised the spirits to her lips and declared her- 
 self better. 
 
 " Are you going over there again to-night ? " asked Mr. 
 Decker submissively. 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Decker, with her eyes fixed dreamily 
 on the floor. 
 
 " I would n't if I was you," said Mr. Decker with a sigh 
 of relief. After a pavise he took a seat on the sofa, and 
 drawing his wife to his side, said, " Do you know what I 
 was thinking of when you came in, Elsie ? " Mrs. Decker 
 ran her fingers through his stiff black hair, and could n't 
 imagine. 
 
 " I was thinking of old times, Elsie ; I was thinking of 
 the days when I built that kerridge for you, Elsie when I 
 used to take you out to ride, and was both hoss and driver ! 
 We was poor then, and you was sick, Elsie, but we was 
 happy. We 've got money now, and a house, and you 're 
 quite another woman. I may say, dear, that you 're a new 
 woman. And that 's where the trouble comes in. I coulu 
 build you a kerridge, Elsie ; I could build you a house, 
 Elsie but there I stopped. I could n't build up you. 
 You 're strong and pretty, Elsie, and fresh and new. But 
 somehow, Elsie, you ain't no work of mine ! " 
 
 He paused. With one hand laid gently on his forehead 
 and the other pressed upon her bosom as if to feel certain 
 of the presence of her pain, she said sweetly and sooth- 
 ingly : 
 
 " But it was your work, dear."
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHUKST 185 
 
 Mr. Decker shook his head sorrowfully. " No, Elsie, 
 not mine. I had the chance to do it once and I let it go. 
 It 's done now ; but not by me." 
 
 Mrs. Decker raised her surprised, innocent eyes to his. 
 He kissed her tenderly, and then went on in a more cheer- 
 ful voice. 
 
 " That ain't all I was thinking of, Elsie. I was thinking 
 that maybe you give too much of your company to that Mr. 
 Hamilton. Not that there 's any wrong in it, to you or him. 
 But it might make people talk. You 're the only one here, 
 Elsie," said the master carpenter, looking fondly at his wife, 
 " who is n't talked about ; whose work ain't inspected or 
 condemned." 
 
 Mrs. Decker was glad he had spoken about it. She had 
 thought so, too, but she could not well be uncivil to Mr. 
 Hamilton, who was a fine gentleman, without making a 
 powerful enemy. " And he 's always treated me as if I was 
 u born lady in his own circle," added the little woman, with 
 a certain pride that made her husband fondly smile. " But 
 I have thought of a plan. He will not stay here if I 
 should go away. If, for instance, I went to San Francisco 
 to visit ma for a few days, he would be gone before I 
 should return." 
 
 Mr. Decker was delighted. " By all means," he said ; " go 
 to-morrow. Jack Oakhurst is going down, and I '11 put you 
 in his charge." 
 
 Mrs. Decker did not think it was prudent. " Mr. Oak- 
 hurst is our friend, Joseph, but you know his reputation." 
 In fact, she did not know that she ought to go now, knowing 
 that he was going the same day ; but with a kiss Mr. Decker 
 overcame her scruples. She yielded gracefully. Few women, 
 in fact, knew how to give up a point as charmingly as she. 
 
 She stayed a week in San Francisco. When she returned 
 she was a trifle thinner and paler than she had been. This 
 she explained as the result of perhaps too active exercise and
 
 186 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 
 
 excitement. " I was out of doors nearly all the time, as ma 
 will tell you," she said to her husband, " and always alone. 
 I am getting quite independent now," she added gayly. " I 
 don't want any escort I believe, Joey dear, I could get 
 along even without you I'm so brave ! " 
 
 But her visit, apparently, had not been productive of her 
 impelling design. Mr. Hamilton had not gone, but had 
 remained, and called upon them that very evening. " I 've 
 thought of a plan, Joey, dear," said Mrs. Decker when he 
 had departed. " Poor Mr. Oakhurst has a miserable room 
 at the hotel suppose you ask him when he returns from San 
 Francisco to stop with us. He can have our spare room. 
 I don't think," she added archly, " that Mr. Hamilton will 
 call often." Her husband laughed, intimated that she was 
 a little coquette, pinched her cheek, and complied. " The 
 queer thing about a woman," he said afterwards confidentially 
 to Mr. Oakhurst, " is, that without having any plan of her 
 own, she '11 take anybody's and build a house on it entirely 
 different to suit herself. And dern my skin, if you ''11 be able 
 to say whether or not you did n't give the scale and measure- 
 ments yourself. That 's what gets me." 
 
 The next week Mr. Oakhurst was installed in the Deckers' 
 cottage. The business relations of her husband and himself 
 were known to all, and her own reputation was above sus- 
 picion. Indeed, few women were more popular. She was 
 domestic, she was prudent, she was pious. .In a country 
 of great feminine freedom and latitude, she never rode or 
 walked with anybody but her husband ; in an epoch of 
 slang and ambiguous expression, she was always precise and 
 formal in her speech ; in the midst of a fashion of ostenta- 
 tious decoration she never wore a diamond, nor a single 
 valuable jewel. She never permitted an indecorum in public ; 
 she never countenancpd the familiarities of California society. 
 She declaimed against the prevailing tone of infidelity and 
 skepticism in religion. Few people who were present will
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 187 
 
 ever forget the dignified yet stately manner with which she 
 rebuked Mr. Hamilton in the public parlor for entering 
 upon the discussion of a work on materialism, lately pub- 
 lished ; and some among them, also, will not forget the 
 expression of amused surprise on Mr. Hamilton's face, that 
 gradually changed to sardonic gravity as he courteously 
 waived his point. Certainly, not Mr. Oakhurst, who from 
 that moment began to be uneasily impatient of his friend, 
 and even if such a term could be applied to any moral 
 quality in Mr. Oakhurst to fear him. 
 
 For, during this time, Mr. Oakhurst had begun to show 
 symptoms of a change in his usual habits. He was seldom, 
 if ever, seen in his old haunts, in a bar-room, or with his old 
 associates. Pink and white notes, in distracted handwriting, 
 accumulated on the dressing-table in his rooms at Sacra- 
 mento. It was given out in San Francisco that he had some 
 organic disease of the heart, for which his physician had 
 prescribed perfect rest. He read more, he took long walks, 
 he sold his fast horses, he went to church. 
 
 I have a very vivid recollection of his first appearance 
 there. He did not accompany the Deckers, nor did he go 
 into their pew, but came in as the service commenced, and 
 took a seat quietly in one of the back pews. By some mys- 
 terious instinct his presence became presently known to the 
 congregation, some of whom so far forgot themselves, in 
 their curiosity, as to face around and apparently address 
 their responses to him. Before the service was over it was 
 pretty well understood that " miserable sinners " meant Mr. 
 Oakhurst. Nor did this mysterious influence fail to affect 
 the officiating clergyman, who introduced an allusion to Mr. 
 Oakhurst' s calling and habits in a sermon on the architecture 
 of Solomon's Temple, and in a manner so pointed and yet 
 labored as to cause the youngest of us to flame with indig- 
 nation. Happily, however, it was lost upon Jack ; I do not 
 think he even heard it. His handsome, colorless face
 
 188 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 
 
 albeit a trifle worn and thoughtful was inscrutable. Only 
 once, during the singing of a hymn, at a certain note in the 
 contralto's voice, there crept into his dark eyes a look of 
 wistful tenderness, so yearning and yet so hopeless that those 
 who were watching him felt their own glisten. Yet I retain 
 a very vivid remembrance of his standing up to receive the 
 benediction, with the suggestion, in his manner and tightly 
 buttoned coat, of taking the fire of his adversary at ten 
 paces. After church he disappeared as quietly as he had 
 entered, and fortunately escaped hearing the comments on 
 his rash act. His appearance was generally considered as 
 an impertinence attributable only to some wanton fancy 
 or possibly a bet. One or two thought that the sexton was 
 xceedingly remiss in not turning him out after discovering 
 who he was ; and a prominent pewholder remarked that if 
 he could n't take his wife and daughters to that church 
 without exposing them to such, an influence, he would try 
 to find some church where he could. Another traced Mr. 
 Oakhurst's presence to certain Broad Church radical ten- 
 dencies, which he regretted to say he had lately noted in 
 their pastor. Deacon Sawyer, whose delicately organized, 
 sickty wife had already borne him eleven children, and died 
 iu an ambitious attempt to complete the dozen, avowed that 
 the presence of a person of Mr. Oakhurst's various and in- 
 discriminate gallantries was an insult to the memory of the 
 deceased that, as a man, he could not brook. 
 
 It was about this time that Mr. Oakhurst, contrasting 
 himself with a conventional world in which he had hitherto 
 rarely mingled, became aware that there was something in 
 his face, figure, and carriage quite unlike other men, 
 something that if it did not betray his former career, at 
 least showed an individuality and originality that was 
 suspicious. In this belief he shaved off his long, silken 
 mustache, and religiously brushed out his clustering curls 
 every morning. He even went so far as to affect a negli-
 
 PASSAGE IX THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 189 
 
 gence of dress, and hid his small, slim, arched feet in the 
 largest and heaviest walking-shoes. There is a story told 
 that he went to his tailor in Sacramento, and asked him to 
 make him a suit of clothes like everybody else. The tailor, 
 familiar with Mr. Oakhurst's fastidiousness, did not know 
 what he meant. " I mean," said Mr. Oakhurst savagely, 
 " something respectable, something that does n't exactly 
 fit me, you know." But however Mr. Oakhurst might hide 
 his shapely limbs in homespun and home-made garments, 
 there was something in his carriage, something in the pose 
 of his beautiful head, something in the strong and fine 
 manliness of his presence, something in the perfect and 
 utter discipline and control of his muscles, something in 
 the high repose of his nature a repose not so much a 
 matter of intellectual ruling as of his very nature that go 
 where he would, and with whom, he was always a notable 
 man in ten thousand. Perhaps this was never so clearly 
 intimated to Mr. Oakhurst as when, emboldened by Mr. 
 Hamilton's advice and assistance and his predilections, 
 he became a San Francisco broker. Even before objection 
 was made to his presence in the Board the objection, I 
 remember, was urged very eloquently by Watt Sanders, 
 who was supposed to be the inventor of the " freezing-out " 
 system of disposing of poor stockholders, and who also 
 enjoyed the reputation of having been the impelling cause 
 of Briggs of Tuolumne's ruin and suicide even before 
 this formal protest of respectability against lawlessness, the 
 aquiline suggestions of Mr. . Oakhurst's mien and counte- 
 nance not only prematurely fluttered the pigeons, but abso- 
 lutely occasioned much uneasiness among the fish-hawks, 
 who circled below him with their booty. " Dash me ! 
 but he 's as likely to go after us as anybody," said Joe 
 Fielding. 
 
 It wanted but a few days before the close of the brief 
 summer season at San Isabel Warm Springs. Already
 
 190 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF ME. JOHN OAKHURST 
 
 there had heen some migration of the more fashionable, 
 and there was an uncomfortable suggestion of dregs and 
 lees in the social life that remained. Mr. Oakhurst was 
 moody; it was hinted that even the secure reputation of 
 Mrs. Decker could no longer protect her from the gossip 
 which his presence excited. It is but fair to her to say that 
 during the last few weeks of this trying ordeal she looked 
 like a sweet, pale martyr, and conducted herself toward her 
 traducers with the gentle, forgiving manner of one who 
 relied not upon the idle homage of the crowd, but upon 
 the security of a principle that was dearer than popular 
 favor. " They talk about myself and Mr. Oakhurst, my 
 dear," she said to a friend, " but Heaven and my husband 
 can best answer their calumny. It never shall be said that 
 my husband ever turned his back upon a friend in the 
 moment of his adversity because the position was changed, 
 because his friend was poor and he was rich." This? 
 was the first intimation to the public that Jack had 
 lost money, although it was known generally that the 
 Deckers had lately bought some valuable property in San 
 Francisco. 
 
 A few evenings after this an incident occurred which 
 seemed to unpleasantly discord with the general social 
 harmony that had always existed at San Isabel. It was 
 at dinner, and Mr. Oakhurst and Mr. Hamilton, who sat 
 together at a separate table, were observed to rise in some 
 agitation. When they reached the hall, by a common 
 instinct they stepped into a little breakfast-room wbich was 
 vacant, and closed the door. Then Mr. Hamilton iurned, 
 with a half-amused, half-serious smile, toward his friend, 
 and said, 
 
 " If we are to quarrel, Jack Oakhurst, you and 1, in 
 the name of all that is ridiculous, don't let it be about 
 a" 
 
 I do not know what was the epithet intended. I* wa?
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 191 
 
 either unspoken or lost. For at that very instant Mr. 
 Oakhurst raised a wine-glass and dashed its contents into 
 Hamilton's face. 
 
 As they faced each other the men seemed to have 
 changed natures. Mr. Oakhurst was trembling with excite- 
 ment, and the wine-glass that he returned to the table 
 shivered between his fingers. Mr. Hamilton stood there, 
 grayish white, erect, and dripping. After a pause he said 
 coldly, 
 
 " So be it. But remember ! our quarrel commences 
 here. If I fall by your hand, you shall not use it to clear 
 her character ; if you fall by mine, you shall not be called 
 a martyr. I am sorry it has come to this, but amen ! the 
 sooner now the better." 
 
 He turned proudly, dropped his lids over his cold steel- 
 blue eyes, as if sheathing a rapier, bowed, and passed coldly 
 out. 
 
 They met twelve hours later in a little hollow two miles 
 from the hotel, on the Stockton road. As Mr. Oakhurst 
 received his pistol from Colonel Starbottle's hands he said 
 to him in a low voice, " Whatever turns up or down I shall 
 not return to the hotel. You will find some directions in 
 my room. Go there" but bis voice suddenly faltered, 
 and he turned his glistening eyes away, to his second's 
 intense astonishment. " I 've been out a dozen times with 
 Jack Oakhurst," said Colonel Starbottle afterwards, " and I 
 never saw him anyways cut before. Blank me if I did n't 
 think he was losing his sand, till he walked to position." 
 
 The two reports were almost simultaneous. Mr. Oak- 
 hurst's right arm dropped suddenly to his side, and his 
 pistol would have fallen from his paralyzed fingers, but the 
 discipline of trained nerve and muscle prevailed, and he kept 
 his grasp until he had shifted it to the other hand, with- 
 out changing his position. Then there was a silence that 
 seemed interminable, a gathering of two or three dark fig-
 
 192 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHUKST 
 
 ures where a smoke curl still lazily floated, and then the 
 hurried, husky, panting voice of Colonel Starbottle in his 
 ear, " He 's hit hard through the lungs you must run 
 for it ! " 
 
 Jack turned his dark, questioning eyes upon his second, 
 but did not seem to listen ; rather seemed to hear some 
 other voice, remoter in the distance. He hesitated, and 
 then made a step forward in the direction of the distant 
 group. Then he paused again as the figures separated, and 
 the surgeon came hastily toward him. 
 
 " He would like to speak with you a moment," said the 
 man. " You have little time to lose, I know ; hut," he 
 added in a lower voice, " it is my duty to tell you he has 
 Btill less." 
 
 A look of despair so hopeless in its intensity swept over 
 Mr. Oakhurst's usually impassive face that the surgeon 
 started. " You are hit," he said, glancing at Jack's help- 
 less arm. 
 
 " Nothing a mere scratch," said Jack hastily. Then he 
 added, with a hitter laugh, "I'm not in luck to-day. But 
 come! We'll see what he wants." 
 
 His long feverish stride outstripped the surgeon's, and in 
 another moment he stood where the dying man lay like 
 most dying men the one calm, composed, central figure of 
 an anxious group. Mr. Oakhurst's face was less calm as he 
 dropped on one knee beside him and took his hand. " I 
 want to speak with this gentleman alone," said Hamilton, 
 with something of his old imperious manner, as he turned 
 to those about him. When they drew back, he looked up 
 in Oakhurst's face. 
 
 "I've something to tell you, Jack." 
 
 His own face was white, but not so white as that which 
 Mr. Oakhurst bent over him a face so ghastly, with haunt- 
 ing doubts and a hopeless presentiment of coining evil, a 
 face so piteous in its infinite weariness and envy of death,
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 193 
 
 that the dying man was touched, even in the languor of 
 dissolution, with a pang of compassion, and the cynical 
 smile faded from his lips. 
 
 "Forgive me, Jack," he whispered more feebly, "for 
 what I have to say. I don't say it in anger, but only 
 because it must be said. I could not do my duty to you 
 I could not die contented until you knew it all. It 's a 
 miserable business at best, all around. But it can't be 
 helped now. Only I ought to have fallen by Decker's 
 pistol and not yours." 
 
 A flush like fire came into Jack's cheek, and he would 
 have risen, but Hamilton held him fast. 
 
 " Listen ! in my pocket you will find two letters. Take 
 them there ! You will know the handwriting. But 
 promise you will not read them until you are in a place 
 of safety. Promise me ! " 
 
 Jack did not speak, but held the letters between his 
 fingers as if they had been burning coals. 
 
 " Promise me," said Hamilton faintly. 
 
 " Why ? " asked Oakhurst, dropping his friend's hand 
 coldly. 
 
 " Because," said the dying man with a bitter smile, 
 " because when you have read them you will go 
 back to capture and death ! " 
 
 They were his last words. He pressed Jack's hand 
 faintly. Then his grasp relaxed, and he fell back a corpse. 
 
 It was nearly ten o'clock at night-, and Mrs. Decker 
 reclined languidly upon the sofa with a novel in her hand, 
 while her husband discussed the politics of the country in 
 the bar-room of the hotel. It was a warm night, and the 
 French window looking out upon a little balcony was partly 
 open. Suddenly she heard a foot upon the balcony, and 
 she raised her eyes from the book with a slight start. The 
 next moment the window was hurriedly thrust wide and a 
 man entered.
 
 194 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 
 
 Mrs. Decker rose to her feet with a little cry of alarm. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Jack, are you mad ? He has only 
 gone for a little while he may return at any moment. 
 Come an hour later to-morrow any time when I can get 
 rid of him but go, now, dear, at once." 
 
 Mr. Oakhurst walked toward the door, bolted it, and 
 then faced her without a word. His face was haggard, his 
 coat-sleeve hung loosely over an arm that was bandaged 
 and bloody. 
 
 Nevertheless, her voice did not falter as she turned again 
 toward him. " What has happened, Jack ? W T hy are you 
 here ? " 
 
 He opened his coat, and threw two letters in her lap. 
 
 " To return your lover's letters to kill you and then 
 myself," he said in a voice so low as to be almost 
 inaudible. 
 
 Among the many virtues of this admirable woman was 
 invincible courage. She did not faint, she did not cry out. 
 She sat quietly down again, folded her hands in her lap, 
 and said calmly, 
 
 " And why should you not ? " 
 
 Had she recoiled, had she shown any fear or contrition, 
 had she essayed an explanation or apology, Mr. Oakhurst 
 would have looked upon it as an evidence of guilt. But 
 there is no quality that courage recognizes so quickly as 
 courage, there is no condition that desperation bows before 
 but desperation ; and Mr. Oakhurst's power of analysis was 
 not so keen as to prevent him from confounding her 
 courage with a moral quality. Even in his fury he could 
 not help admiring this dauntless invalid. 
 
 " Why should you not ? " she repeated with a smile. 
 " You gave me life, health, arid happiness, Jack. You gave 
 me your love. Why should you not take what you have 
 given ? Go on. I am ready." 
 
 She held out her hands with that same infinite giace of
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 195 
 
 yielding with which she had taken his own on the first day 
 of their meeting at the hotel. Jack raised his head, looked 
 at her for one wild moment, dropped upon his knees beside 
 her; and raised the folds of her dress to his feverish lips. 
 ]>ut she was too clever not to instantly see her victory; she 
 was too much of a woman, with all her cleverness, to refrain 
 from pressing that victory home. At the same moment, as 
 with the impulse of an outraged and wounded woman, she 
 rose, and with an imperious gesture pointed to the window. 
 Mr. Oakhurst rose in his turn, cast one glance upon her, and 
 without another word passed out of her presence forever. 
 
 When he had gone, she closed the window and bolted 
 it, and going to the chiinneypiece placed the letters, one 
 by one, in the flame of the candle until they were consumed. 
 I would not have the reader think that during this painful 
 operation she was unmoved. Her hand trembled and 
 not being a brute for some minutes (perhaps longer) she 
 felt very badly, and the corners of her sensitive mouth were 
 depressed. When her husband arrived it was with a 
 genuine joy that she ran to him, and nestled against his 
 broad breast with a feeling of security that thrilled the 
 honest fellow to the core. 
 
 "But I've heard dreadful news to-night, Elsie," said 
 Mr. Decker, after a few endearments were exchanged. 
 
 " Don't tell me anything dreadful, dear ; I 'm not well 
 to-night," she pleaded sweetly. 
 
 " But it 's about Mr. Oakhurst and Hamilton." 
 
 " Please ! " Mr. Decker could not resist the petitionary 
 grace of those white hands and that sensitive mouth, and 
 took her to his arms. Suddenly he said, " What 's that ? " 
 
 He was pointing to the bosom of her white dress. 
 Where Mr. Oakhurst had touched her there was a spot 
 of blood. 
 
 It was nothing ; she had slightly cut her hand in closing 
 the window ; it shut so hard ! If Mr. Decker had remem-
 
 196 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST 
 
 bered to close and bolt the shutter before he went out, he 
 might have saved her this. There was such a genuine 
 irritability and force in this remark that Mr. Decker was 
 quite overcome by remorse. But Mrs. Decker forgave him 
 with that graciousness which I have before pointed out in 
 these pages, and with the halo of that forgiveness and 
 marital confidence still lingering above the pair, with the 
 reader's permission we will leave them and return to Mr. 
 Oakhurst. 
 
 But not for two weeks. At the end of that time he 
 walked into his rooms in Sacramento, and in his old manner 
 took his seat at the faro-table. 
 
 " How 's your arm, Jack ? " asked an incautious player. 
 
 There was a smile followed the question, which, however, 
 ceased as Jack looked up quietly at the speaker. 
 
 " It bothers my dealing a little, but I can shoot as well 
 with my left." 
 
 The game was continued in that decorous silence which 
 usually distinguished the table at which Mr. John Oakhurst 
 presided.
 
 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IT was nearly two o'clock in the morning. The lights 
 were out in Robinson's Hall, where there had been dancing 
 and revelry, and the moon, riding high, painted the black 
 windows with silver. The cavalcade that an hour ago had 
 shocked the sedate pines with song and laughter were all 
 dispersed ; one enamored swain had ridden east, another 
 west, another north, another south, and the object of their 
 adoration, left within her bower at Chernisal Ridge, was 
 calmly going to bed. 
 
 I regret that I am not able to indicate the exact stage of 
 that process. Two chairs were already filled with delicate 
 enwrappings and white confusion, and the young lady her- 
 self, half hidden in the silky threads of her yellow hair, had 
 at one time borne a faint resemblance to a partly husked 
 ear of Indian corn. But she was now clothed in that one 
 long, formless garment that makes all women equal, and 
 the round shoulders and neat waist that an hour ago had 
 been so fatal to the peace of mind of Four Forks had utterly 
 disappeared. The face above it was very pretty ; the foot 
 below, albeit shapely, was not small. " The flowers, as a 
 general thing, don't raise their heads much to look after 
 me," she had said with superb frankness to one of her 
 lovers. 
 
 The expression of " The Rose " to-night was contentedly 
 placid. She walked slowly to the window, and, making the 
 smallest possible peep-hole through the curtain, looked out. 
 The motionless h'gure of a horseman still lingered on tht>
 
 198 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 road, with an excess of devotion that only a coquette or a 
 woman very much in love could tolerate. " The Rose " at 
 that moment was neither, and after a reasonable pause 
 turned away, saying, quite audibly, that it was " too ridicu- 
 lous for anything." As she came back to her dressing-table 
 it was noticeable that she walked steadily and erect, without 
 that slight affectation of lameness common to people with 
 whom bare feet are only an -episode. Indeed, it was only 
 four years ago that, without shoes or stockings, a long- 
 limbed, colty girl, in a waistless calico gown, she had leaped 
 from the tail-board of her father's emigrant wagon when 
 it first drew up at Chemisal Ridge. Certain wild habits 
 of The Rose had outlived transplanting and cultivation. 
 
 A knock at the door surprised her. In another moment 
 she had leaped into bed, and, with darkly frowning eyes, 
 from its secure recesses demanded, " Who 's there ? " 
 
 An apologetic murmur on the other side of the door was 
 the response. 
 
 " Why, father, is that you ? " 
 
 There were further murmurs, affirmative, deprecatory, 
 and persistent. 
 
 " Wait," said The Rose. She got up, unlocked the door, 
 leaped nimbly into bed again, and said, " Come." 
 
 The door opened timidly. The broad, stooping shoulders 
 and grizzled head of a man past the middle age appeared ; 
 after a moment's hesitation a pair of large, diffident feet, 
 shod with canvas slippers, concluded to follow. When the 
 apparition was complete it closed the door softly, and stood 
 there a very shy ghost indeed, with apparently more than 
 the usual spiritual indisposition to begin a conversation. 
 The Rose resented this impatiently, though I fear not alto- 
 gether intelligibly : 
 
 " Do, father, I declare ! " 
 
 "You was abed, Jinny," said Mr. M'Closky slowly, 
 glancing with a singular mixture of masculine awe and
 
 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 199 
 
 paternal pride upon the two chairs and their contents. 
 " You was abed and ondressed." 
 
 " I was." 
 
 " Surely," said Mr. M'Closky, seating himself on the 
 extreme edge of the bed, and painfully tucking his feet 
 away under it, " surely." After a pause he rubbed a 
 short, thick, stumpy beard, that bore a general resemblance 
 to a badly worn blacking-brush, with the palm of his hand, 
 and went on, " You had a good time, Jinny ?" 
 
 " Yes, father." 
 
 " They was all there ? " 
 
 " Yes ; Ranee and York and Eyder arid Jack." 
 
 " And Jack ! " Mr. M'Closky endeavored to throw an 
 expression of arch inquiry into his small, tremulous eyes, but 
 meeting the unabashed, widely opened lid of his daughter, 
 he winked rapidly and blushed to the roots of his hair. 
 
 " Yes, Jack was there," said Jinny, without change of 
 color, or the least self-consciousness in her great gray eyes, 
 "and he came home with me." She paused a moment, 
 locking her two hands under her head, and assuming a 
 more comfortable position on the pillow. " He asked me 
 that same question again, father, and I said, ( Yes.' It 's to 
 be soon. We 're going to live at Four Forks, in his own 
 house, and next winter we 're going to Sacramento. I 
 suppose it 's all right, father, eh ? " She emphasized the 
 question with a slight kick through the bedclothes as the 
 parental M'Closky had fallen into an abstract reverie. 
 
 " Yes, surely," said Mr. M'Closky, recovering himself 
 with some confusion. After a pause he looked down at the 
 bedclothes, and, patting them tenderly, continued. "You 
 could n't have done better, Jinny. They is n't a girl in Tuo- 
 lumne ez could strike it ez rich ez you hev even if they 
 got the chance." He paused again and then said, " Jinny ? " 
 
 " Yes, father." 
 
 " You 'se in bed and ondressed ? " 
 
 "Yes."
 
 200 THE HOSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 " You could n't," said Mr. M'Closky, glancing hopelessly 
 at the two chairs and slowly rubbing his chin, " you 
 could n't dress yourself again, could yer ? " 
 
 " Why, father ?" 
 
 " Kinder get yourself into them things again ? " he 
 added hastily. " Not all of 'em, you know, but some of 
 ? em. Not if I helped you ? sorter stood by and lent a 
 hand now and then with a strap or a buckle, or a necktie 
 or a shoe-string," he continued, still looking at the chairs, 
 antl evidently trying to boldly familiarize himself with their 
 contents. 
 
 " Are you crazy, father ? " demanded Jinny, suddenly 
 sitting up with a portentous switch of her yellow mane. 
 Mr. M'Closky rubbed one side of his beard, which already 
 had the appearance of having been quite worn away by that 
 process, and faintly dodged the question. 
 
 " Jinny." he said, tenderly stroking the bedclothes as he 
 spoke, " this yer 's what 's the matter. Thar is a stranger 
 downstairs a stranger to you, lovey, but a man ez I 've 
 knowed a long time. He 's been here about an hour, and 
 he '11 be here ontil fower o'clock, when the up stage passes. 
 Now I wants ye, Jinny, dear, to get up and come down- 
 stairs and kinder help me pass the time with him. It 's no 
 use, Jinny," he went on, gently raising his hand to depre- 
 cate any interruption, " it 's no use, he won't go to bed ! 
 He won't play keerds ; whiskey don't take no effect on him. 
 Ever since I knowed him he was the most onsatisfactory 
 critter to hev round " 
 
 " What do you have him round for, then ? " interrupted 
 Miss Jinny sharply. 
 
 Mr. M'Closky's eyes fell. " Ef he hed n't kern out of 
 his way to-night to do me a good turn, I would n't ask ye, 
 Jinny. I would n't, so help me ! But I thought ez I 
 couldn't do anything with him, you might come down and 
 sorter fetch him, Jinny, as you did the others."
 
 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 201 
 
 Miss Jinny shrugged her pretty shoulders. 
 
 " Is he old or young ? " 
 
 " He 's young enough, Jinny, but he knows a power of 
 things." 
 
 " What does he do ? " 
 
 "Not much, I reckon. He's got money in the mill at 
 Four Forks. He travels round a good deal. I've heard, 
 Jinny, that he's a poet writes them rhymes, you know." 
 Mr. M'Closky here appealed submissively, but directly to his 
 daughter. He remembered that she had frequently been 
 in receipt of printed elegiac couplets known as " mottoes," 
 containing inclosures equally saccharine. 
 
 Miss Jinny slightly curled her pretty lip. She had that 
 fine contempt for the illusions of fancy which belongs to 
 the perfectly healthy young animal. 
 
 "Not," continued Mr. M'Closky, rubbing his head re- 
 flectively, " not ez I 'd advise ye, Jinny, to say anything 
 to him about poetry. It ain't twenty minutes ago ez / did. 
 I set the whiskey afore him in the parlor. I wound up the 
 music-box and set it goin'. Then I sez to him, sociable- 
 like and free, ' Jest consider yourself in your own house, 
 and repeat what you allow to be your finest production,' 
 and he raged. That man, Jinny, jest raged. Thar 's no 
 end of the names he called me. You see, Jinny," con- 
 tinued Mr. M'Closky apologetically, "he's known me a 
 long time." 
 
 But his daughter had already dismissed the question with 
 her usual directness. "I'll be down in a few moments, 
 father," she said after a pause, " but don't say anything to 
 him about it don't say I was abed." 
 
 Mr. M'Closky's face beamed. " You was allers a good 
 girl, Jinny," he said, dropping on one knee the better to 
 imprint a respectful kiss on her forehead. But Jinny 
 caught him by the wrists and for a moment held him cap- 
 tive. " Father," said she, trying to fix his shy eyes with
 
 202 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 the clear, steady glance of her own, "all the girls that 
 were there to-night had some one with them. Maine Kob- 
 inson had her aunt, Lucy Kance had her mother, Kate Pier- 
 son had her sister all except me had some other woman. 
 Father, dear," her lip trembled just a little, "I wish 
 mother hadn't died when I was so small. I wish there 
 was some other woman in the family besides me. I ain't 
 lonely with you, father, dear ; but if there was only some 
 one, you know, when the time comes for John and me " 
 
 Her voice here suddenly gave out, but not her brave 
 eyes, that were still fixed earnestly upon his face. Mr. 
 M'Closky, apparently tracing out a pattern on the bed-quilt, 
 essayed words of comfort. 
 
 "There ain't one of them gals ez you've named, Jinny, 
 ez could do what you 've done with a whole Noah's ark of 
 relations at their backs ! Thar ain't one ez would n't sacri-. 
 fice her nearest relation to make the strike that you hev. 
 Ez to mothers, maybe, my dear, you 're doin' better without 
 one." He rose suddenly, and walked toward the door. 
 When he reached it he turned, and in his old deprecating 
 manner, said, " Don't be long, Jinny," smiled, and van- 
 ished from the head downward, his canvas slippers asserting 
 themselves resolutely to the last. 
 
 When Mr. M'Closky reached his parlor again his trouble- 
 some guest was not there. The decanter stood on the table 
 untouched, three or four books lay upon the floor, a number 
 of photographic views of the Sierras were scattered over 
 the sofa ; two sofa pillows, a newspaper, and a Mexican 
 blanket lay on the carpet, as if the late occupant of 
 the room had tried to read in a recumbent position. A 
 French window, opening upon a veranda, which never 
 before in the history of the house had been unfastened, 
 now betrayed by its waving lace curtain the way that the 
 fugitive had escaped. Mr. M'Closky heaved a sigh of 
 despair ; he looked at the gorgeous carpet purchased in
 
 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 203 
 
 (Sacramento at a fabulous price, at the crimson satin and 
 rosewood furniture unparalleled in the history of Tuo- 
 lumne, at the massively framed pictures on the walls, and 
 looked beyond it, through the open window, to the reckless 
 man who, fleeing these sybaritic allurements, was smoking 
 a cigar upon the moonlit road. This room, which had sc 
 often awed the youth of Tuolumne into filial respect, was 
 evidently a failure. It remained to be seen if The Rose 
 herself had lost her fragrance. " I reckon Jinny will fetch 
 him yet," said Mr. M'Closky, with parental faith. 
 
 He stepped from the window upon the veranda. But he 
 had scarcely done this before his figure was detected by the 
 stranger, who at once crossed the road. When within a 
 few feet of M'Closky he stopped. " You persistent old 
 plantigrade," he said in a low voice, audible only to the 
 person addressed, and a face full of affected anxiety, " why 
 don't you go to bed ? Did n't I tell you to go and leave 
 me here alone ? In the name of all that 's idiotic and 
 imbecile, why do you continue to shuffle about here ? Or 
 are you trying to drive me crazy with your presence, as you 
 have with that wretched music-box that I've just dropped' 
 under yonder tree ? It 's an hour and a half yet before the 
 stage passes ; do you think, do you imagine for a single 
 moment, that I can tolerate you until then eh ? Why 
 don't you speak ? Are you asleep ? You don't mean to 
 say that you have the audacity to add somnambulism to 
 your other weaknesses ; you 're not low enough to repeat 
 yourself under any such weak pretext as that eh ? " 
 
 A fit of nervous coughing ended this extraordinary exor- 
 dium, and half sitting, half leaning against the veranda, 
 Mr. M'Closky's guest turned his face, and part of a slight, 
 elegant figure, towards his host. The lower portion of this 
 upturned face wore an habitual expression of fastidious dis- 
 content, with an occasional line of physical suffering. But 
 the brow above was frank and critical, and a pair of dark
 
 204 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 mirthful eyes sat in playful judgment over the supersensitive 
 mouth and its suggestion. 
 
 " I allowed to go to bed, Ridgeway," said Mr. M'Closky 
 meekly, " but my girl Jinny 's jist got back from a little tear 
 up at Robinson's, and ain't inclined to turn in yet. You 
 know what girls is. So I thought we three would jist have 
 a social chat together to pass away the time." 
 
 " You mendacious ojd hypocrite ! she got back an hour 
 ago," said Ridgeway, " as that savage-looking escort of hers, 
 who has been haunting the house ever since, can testify. 
 My belief is, that, like an enterprising idiot as you are, 
 you 've dragged that girl out of her bed that we might 
 mutually bore each other." 
 
 Mr. M'Closky was too much stunned by this evidence 
 of Ridgeway's apparently superhuman penetration to reply. 
 After enjoying his host's confusion for a moment with his 
 eyes, Ridgeway's mouth asked grimly, 
 
 " And who is this girl, anyway ? " 
 
 "Nancy's." 
 
 " Your wife's ? " 
 
 " Yes. But look yar, Ridgeway," said M'Closky, laying 
 one hand imploringly on Ridgeway's sleeve, " not a word 
 about her to Jinny. She thinks her mother 's dead died 
 in Missouri. Eh ! " 
 
 Ridgeway nearly rolled from the veranda in an excess of 
 rage. " Good God ! Do you mean to say that you have 
 been concealing from her a fact that any day, any moment, 
 may come to her ears ? That you 've been letting her grow 
 up in ignorance of something that by this time she might 
 have outgrown and forgotten ? That you have been, like a 
 besotted old ass, all these years slowly forging a thunder- 
 bolt that any one may crush her with ? That " but here 
 Ridgeway's cough took possession of his voice, and even put 
 a moisture into his dark eyes, as he looked at M'Closky's 
 aiml* ss hand feebly employed upon his beard.
 
 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 205 
 
 " But," said M'Closky, " look, how she 'a done. She 's 
 held her head as high as any of 'em. She 's to be married 
 in a month to the richest man in the county, and," he added 
 cunningly, " Jack Ashe ain't the kind o' man to sit by 
 and hear anything said of his wife or her relations, you 
 bet. But hush that 's her foot on the stairs. She 's cum- 
 min'." 
 
 She came. I don't think the French window ever held a 
 finer view than when she put aside the curtains and stepped 
 out. She had dressed herself simply and hurriedly, but with 
 a woman's knowledge of her best points, so that you got 
 the long curves of her shapely limbs, the shorter curves 
 of her round waist and shoulders, the long sweep of her 
 yellow braids, the light of her gray eyes, and even the 
 delicate rose of her complexion, without knowing how it 
 was delivered to you. 
 
 The introduction by Mr. M'Closky was brief. When 
 Ridgeway had got over the fact that it was two o'clock in 
 the morning, and that the cheek of this Tuolumne goddess 
 nearest him was as dewy and fresh as an infant's, that she 
 looked like Marguerite, without probably ever having heard 
 of Goethe's heroine, he talked, I dare say, very sensibly , 
 When Miss Jinny, who from her childhood had been brought 
 up among the sons of Anak, and who was accustomed to 
 have a supremacy of our noble sex presented to her as a 
 physical fact, found herself in the presence of a new and 
 strange power, in the slight and elegant figure beside her, 
 she was at first frightened and cold. But finding that 
 this power, against which the weapons of her own physical 
 charms were of no avail, was a kindly one, albeit general, 
 she fell to worshiping it, after the fashion of woman, and 
 .casting before it the fetiches and other idols of her youth. 
 She even confessed to it. So that in half an hour Ridge- 
 way was in possession of all the facts connected with her 
 life, and a great many, I fear, of her fancies except one-
 
 206 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 When Mr. M'Closky found the young people thus amicably 
 disposed, he calmly went to sleep. 
 
 It was a pleasant time to each. To Miss Jinny it had 
 the charm of novelty, and she abandoned herself to it for 
 that reason much more freely and innocently than her com- 
 panion, who knew something more of the inevitable logic 
 of the position. I do not think, however, he had any 
 intention of love-making. I do not think he was at all 
 conscious of being in the attitude. I am quite positive 
 he would have shrunk from the suggestion of disloyalty 
 to the one woman whom he admitted to himself he loved. 
 But, like most poets, he was much more true to an idea 
 than a fact, and, having a very lofty conception of woman- 
 hood, with a very sanguine nature, he saw in each new face 
 the possibilities of a realization of his ideal. It was, per- 
 haps, an unfortunate thing for the women, particularly as 
 he brought to each trial a surprising freshness which was 
 very deceptive, and quite distinct from the blase familiarity 
 of the man of gallantry. It was this perennial virginity of 
 the affections that most endeared him to the best women, 
 who were prone to exercise towards him a chivalrous pro- 
 tection, as of one likely to go astray unless looked after, 
 and indulged in the dangerous combination of sentiment 
 with the highest maternal instincts. It was this quality 
 which caused Jinny to recognize in him a certain boyishness 
 that required her womanly care, and even induced her to 
 offer to accompany him to the cross-roads when the time of 
 his departure arrived. With her superior knowledge of 
 woodcraft and the locality, she would have kept him from 
 being lost. I wot not but that she would have protected 
 him from bears or wolves, but chiefly, I think, from the 
 feline fascinations of Mame Eobinson and Lucy Ranee, 
 who might be lying in wait for this tender young poet. 
 Nor did she cease to be thankful tbat Providence had, so to 
 speak, delivered him as a trust into her Lands.
 
 THE HOSE OF TUOLUMNE 207 
 
 It was a lovely night. The moon swung low and 
 languished softly on the snowy ridge beyond. There were 
 quaint odors in the still air, and a strange incense from the 
 woods perfumed their young blood and seemed to swoon 
 in their pulses. Small wonder that they lingered on the 
 white road, that their feet climbed unwillingly the little 
 hill where they were to part, and that when they at last 
 reached it, even the saving grace of speech seemed to have 
 forsaken them. 
 
 For there they stood, alone. There was no sound nor 
 motion in earth, or woods, or heaven. They might have 
 been the one man and woman for whom this goodly earth 
 that lay at their feet, rimmed with the deepest azure, was 
 created. And seeing this, they turned towards each other 
 with a sudden instinct, and their hands met, and then their 
 lips in one long kiss. 
 
 And then out of the mysterious distance came the sound 
 of voices and the sharp clatter of hoofs and wheels, and 
 Jinny slid away a white moonbeam from the hill. 
 For a moment she glimmered through the trees, and then, 
 reaching the house, passed her sleeping father on the 
 veranda, and, darting into her bedroom, locked the door, 
 threw open the window, and, falling on her knees beside it, 
 leaned her hot cheeks upon her hands and listened. In a 
 few moments she was rewarded by the sharp clatter of hoofs 
 on the stony road, but it was only a horseman, whose dark 
 figure was swiftly lost in the shadows of the lower road. 
 At another time she might have recognized the man, but 
 her eyes and ears were now all intent on something else. 
 It came presently, with dancing lights, a musical rattle of 
 harness, a cadence of hoof-beats, that set her heart to beat- 
 ing in unison, and was gone. A sudden sense of loneliness 
 came over her, and tears gathered in her sweet eyes. 
 
 She arose and looked around her. There was the little 
 led the dressing-table, the roses that she had worn last
 
 208 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 night, still fresh and blooming in the littla vase. Every- 
 thing was there, but everything looked strange ; the roses 
 should have been withered, for the party seemed so long 
 ago ; she could hardly remember when she had worn this 
 dress that lay upon the chair. So she came back to the 
 window and sank down beside it, with her cheek, a trifle 
 paler, leaning on her hand, and her long braids reaching to 
 the floor. The stars paled slowly, like her cheek, yet with 
 eyes that saw not she still looked from her window for the 
 coining dawn. 
 
 It came, with violet deepening into purple, with purple 
 flushing into rose, with rose shining into silver and glowing 
 into gold. The straggling line of black picket fence below, 
 that had faded away with the stars, came back with the sun. 
 What was that object moving by the fence 'f Jinny raised 
 her head and looked intently. It was a man endeavoring 
 to climb the pickets, and falling backward with each attempt. 
 Suddenly she started to her feet, as if the rosy flushes of 
 the dawn had crimsoned her from forehead to shoulders ; 
 ;hen she stood, white as the wall, with her hands clasped 
 Upon her bosom. Then, with a single bound she reached 
 the door, and, with flying braids and fluttering skirt, sprang 
 down the stairs and out in the garden walk. When within 
 a few feet of the fence she uttered a cry the first she had 
 ^iven the cry of a mother over her stricken babe, of a 
 tigress over her mangled cub, and in another moment she 
 had leaped the fence and knelt beside Eidgeway, with his 
 fainting head upon her breast. 
 
 " My boy my poor, poor boy ! who has done this ? " 
 
 Who, indeed ? His clothes were covered with dust, his 
 * aistcoat was torn open ; and his handkerchief, wet with 
 the blood it could not stanch, fell from a cruel stab beneath 
 his shoulder. 
 
 "Ridgeway! my poor boy tell me what has hap 
 ,ened."
 
 THE KOSE OF TUOLUMNE 209 
 
 Eidgeway slowly opened his heavy, blue-veined lids and 
 gazed upon her. Presently a gleam of mischief came into 
 his dark eyes, a smile stole over his lips as he whispered 
 slowly, 
 
 "It was your kiss did it Jinny, dear ! I had 
 forgotten how high-priced the article was here. Never 
 mind, Jinny ! " he feebly raised her hand to his white 
 lips " it was worth it," and fainted away. 
 
 Jinny started to her feet and looked wildly around her. 
 Then, with a sudden resolution, she stooped over the insen- 
 sible man, and, with one strong effort, lifted him in her 
 arms as if he had been a child. When her father, a moment 
 later, rubbed his eyes and awoke from his sleep upon the 
 veranda, it was to see a goddess, erect and triumphant, 
 striding toward the house, with the helpless body of a man 
 lying across that breast where man had never lain before, 
 a goddess at whose imperious mandate he arose and cast 
 open the doors before her. And then when she had laid 
 her unconscious burden on the sofa, the goddess fled, and 
 a woman, helpless and trembling, stood before him, a 
 woman that cried out that she had " killed him," that she 
 was " wicked ! wicked ! " and that, even saying so, stag- 
 gered and fell beside her late burden. And all that Mr, 
 M'Closky could do was to feebly rub his beard, and say 
 to himself, vaguely and incoherently, that " Jinny had 
 fetched him." 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Before noon the next day it was generally believed 
 throughout Four Forks that Ridgeway Dent had been at- 
 tacked and wounded at Chemisal Ridge by a highwayman, 
 who fled on the approach of the Wingdam coach. It is to 
 be presumed that this statement met with Ridgeway's ap- 
 proval, as he did not contradict it, nor supplement it with
 
 210 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 any details. His wound was severe, but not dangerous. 
 After the first excitement had subsided, there was, I think, 
 a prevailing impression, common to the provincial mind, 
 that his misfortune was the result of the defective moral 
 quality of his being a stranger, and was in a vague port 
 of a way a warning to others and a lesson to him. " Did 
 you hear how that San Francisco feller was took down the 
 other night ? " was the average tone of introductory remark. 
 Indeed, there was a general suggestion that Eidgeway's 
 presence was one that no self-respecting, high-minded high- 
 wayman, honorably conservative of the best interests of 
 Tuolumne County, could for a moment tolerate. 
 
 Except for the few words spoken on that eventful morn- 
 ing, Eidgeway was reticent of the past. When Jinny strove 
 to gather some details of the affray that might offer a clue 
 to his unknown assailant, a subtle twinkle in his brown 
 eyes was the only response. When Mr. M'Closky attempted 
 the same process, the young gentleman threw abusive epi- 
 thets, and eventually slippers, teaspoons, and other lighter 
 articles within the reach of an invalid, at the head of his 
 questioner. " I think he 's coming round, Jinny," said Mr. 
 M'Closky ; " he laid for me this morning with a candlestick." 
 
 It was about this time that Miss Jinny, having sworn her 
 father to secrecy regarding the manner in which Eidgeway 
 had been carried into the house, conceived the idea of 
 addressing the young man as " Mr. Dent," and of apologia 
 ing for intruding whenever she entered the room in the 
 discharge of her household duties. It was about this time 
 that she became more rigidly conscientious to those duties, 
 and less general in her attentions ; it was at this time that 
 the quality of the invalid's diet improved, and that she con- 
 sulted him less frequently about it. It was about this time 
 that she began to see more company, that the house was 
 greatly frequented by her former admirers, with whom she 
 rode, walked, and danced. It was at about this time, also,
 
 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 211 
 
 and when Ridgeway was able to be brought out on the 
 veranda in a chair, that, with great archness of manner, she 
 introduced to him Miss Lucy Ashe, the sister of her be- 
 trothed a flashing brunette and terrible heart-breaker of 
 Four Forks. And in the midst of this gayety she concluded 
 that she would spend a week with the Robinsons, to whom 
 she owed a visit. She enjoyed herself greatly there, so 
 much, indeed, that she became quite hollow-eyed, the result, 
 as she explained to her father, of a too frequent indulgence 
 in festivity. " You see, father, I won't have many chances 
 after John and I are married, you know how queer he is, 
 and I must make the most of my time," and she laughed 
 an odd little laugh, which had lately become habitual to her. 
 " And how is Mr. Dent getting on ?" Her father replied 
 that he was getting on very well indeed, so well, in fact, 
 that he was able to leave for San Francisco two days ago. 
 " He wanted to be remembered to you, Jinny ' remem- 
 bered kindly,' yes, they is the very words he used," said 
 Mr. M'Closky, looking down and consulting one of his large 
 sho.es for corroboration. Miss Jinny was glad to hear that 
 he was so much better. Miss Jinny could not imagine 
 anything that pleased her more than to know that he was so 
 strong as to be able to rejoin his friends again, who must 
 love him so much and be so anxious about him. Her father 
 thought she would be pleased, and now that he was gone 
 there was really no necessity for her to hurry back. Miss 
 Jinny, in a high, metallic voice, did not know that she had 
 expressed any desire to stay ; still if her presence had be- 
 come distasteful at home if her own father was desirous 
 of getting rid of her if, when she was so soon to leave his 
 roof forever, he still begrudged her those few days remain- 
 ing if - "My God, Jinny, so help me!" said Mr. 
 M'Closky, clutching despairingly at his beard ; " I did n't 
 go for to say anything of the kind. I thought that you " 
 " Never mind, father," interrupted Jinny magnanimously.
 
 212 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 " you misunderstood me ; of course you did, you could n't 
 help it you're a MAN! " Mr. M'Closky, sorely crushed, 
 would have vaguely protested, but his daughter, having 
 relieved herself, after the manner of her sex, with a mental 
 personal application of an abstract statement, forgave him 
 with a kiss. 
 
 Nevertheless, for two or three days after her return, Mr. 
 M'Closky followed his daughter about the house with yearn- 
 ing eyes, and occasionally with timid, diffident feet. Some- 
 times he came upon her suddenly at her household tasks 
 with an excuse so palpably false, and a careless manner so 
 outrageously studied, that she was fain to be embarrassed 
 for him. Later he took to rambling about the house at 
 night, and was often seen noiselessly passing and repassing 
 through the hall after she had retired. On one occasion he 
 was surprised first by sleep and then by the early rising 
 Jinny as he lay on the rug outside her chamber door. 
 " You treat me like a child, father," said Jinny. " I 
 thought, Jinny," said the father apologetically, "I thought 
 I heard sounds as if you was takin' on inside, and listenin' 
 I fell asleep." " You dear, old, simple-minded baby," 
 said Jinny, looking past her father's eyes, and lifting his 
 grizzled locks one by one with meditative fingers ; " what 
 should I be takin' on for ? Look how much taller I am 
 than you," she said, suddenly lifting herself up tp the 
 extreme of her superb figure. Then rubbing his head 
 rapidly with both hands, as if she were anointing his hair 
 with some rare unguent, she patted him on the back and 
 returned to her room. The result of this and one or two 
 other equally sympathetic interviews was to produce a 
 change in Mr. M'Closky's manner, which was, if possible, 
 still more discomposing. He grew unjustifiably hilarious, 
 cracked jokes with the servants, and repeated to Jinny 
 humorous stories, with the attitude of facctiousness carefully 
 preserved throughout the entire narration, and the point
 
 THE ROSE OF TTJOLUMNE 213 
 
 utterly ignored and forgotten. Certain incidents reminded 
 him of funny things, which invariably turned out to have 
 not the slightest relevancy or application. He occasionally 
 brought home with him practical humorists, with a san- 
 guine hope of setting them going, like the music-box, for 
 his daughter's edification. He essayed the singing of melo- 
 dies with great freedom of style and singular limitation of 
 note. He sang " Come, Haste to the Wedding, ye Lasses 
 and Maidens," of which he knew a single line, and that 
 incorrectly, as being peculiarly apt and appropriate. Yet 
 away from the house and his daughter's presence he was 
 silent and distraught. His absence of mind was particu- 
 larly noted by his workmen at the Empire Quartz Mill. 
 " Ef the old man don't look out and wake up," said his 
 foreman, " he '11 hev them feet of his yet under the stamps. 
 When he ain't givin' his mind to 'em, they is altogether 
 too promiskuss." 
 
 A few nights later, Miss Jinny recognized her father's 
 hand in a timid tap at the door. She opened it, and he 
 stood before her, with a valise in his hand, equipped as for 
 a journey. " I takes the stage to-night, Jinny, dear, from 
 Four Forks to 'Frisco. Maybe I may drop in on Jack 
 afore I go. I'll be back in a week. Good-by." 
 
 " Good-by." He still held her hand. Presently he drew 
 her back into the room, closing the door carefully, and glan- 
 cing around. There was a look of profound cunning in his 
 eye as he said slowly, 
 
 " Bear up and keep dark, Jinny, dear, and trust to the 
 old man. Various men has various ways. Thar is ways 
 as is common and ways as is oncommon, ways as is easy 
 and ways as is oneasy. Bear up and keep dark." With 
 this Delphic utterance he put his finger to his lips and 
 vanished. 
 
 It was ten o'clock when he reached Four Forks. A few 
 minutes later he stood on the threshold of that dwelling
 
 214 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 described by the Four Forks " Sentinel " as " the palatial 
 residence of John Ashe," and known to the local satirist as 
 the " ash-box." " Hevin' to lay by two hours, John," he 
 said to his prospective son-in-law, as he took his hand at 
 the door, " a few words of social converse, not on business, 
 but strictly private, seems to be about as nat'ral a thing as 
 a man can do." This introduction, evidently the result of 
 some study and plainly committed to memory, seemed so 
 satisfactory to Mr. M'Closky that he repeated it again, after 
 John Ashe had led him into his private office, where, 
 depositing his valise .in the middle of the floor, and sitting 
 down before it, he began carefully to avoid the eye of his 
 host. John Ashe, a tall, dark, handsome Kentuckian 
 with whom even the trifles of life were evidently full of 
 serious import waited with a kind of chivalrous respect 
 the further speech of his guest. Being utterly devoid of 
 any sense of the ridiculous, he always accepted Mr. 
 M'Closky as a grave fact, singular only from his own want 
 of experience of the class. 
 
 "Ores is running light now," said Mr. M'Closky, with 
 easy indifference. 
 
 John" Ashe returned that he had noticed the same fact in 
 the receipts of the mill at Four Forks. 
 
 Mr. M'Closky rubbed his beard and looked at his valise, 
 as if for sympathy and suggestion. 
 
 " You don't reckon on having any trouble with any of 
 them chaps ez you cut out with Jinny ? " 
 
 John Ashe, rather haughtily, had never thought of that. 
 "I saw Eance hanging round your house the other night 
 when I took your daughter home, but he gave me a wide 
 berth," he added carelessly. 
 
 " Surely," said Mr. M'Closky, with a peculiar winking of 
 the eye. After a pause, he took a fresh departure from his 
 valise. 
 
 "A few words, John, ez between man and man, ez
 
 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 215 
 
 between my daughter's father and her husband who expects 
 to be, is about the thing, I take it, as is fair and square. I 
 kem here to say them. They 're about Jinny, my gal." 
 
 Ashe's grave face brightened, to Mr. M'Closky's evident 
 discomposure. 
 
 " Maybe I should have said, about her mother ; but the 
 same bein' a stranger to you, I says, nat'rally, ' Jinny.' " 
 
 Ashe nodded courteously. Mr. M'Closky, with his eyes 
 on his valise, went on : 
 
 " It is sixteen year ago as I married Mrs. M'Closky in 
 the State of Missouri. She let on, at the time, to be a 
 widder, a widder with one child. When I say let on, I 
 mean to imply that I subsequently found out that she was 
 not a widder, nor a wife, and the father of the child was, 
 so to speak, onbeknownst. Thet child was Jinny my 
 gal." 
 
 With his eyes on his valise, and quietly ignoring the 
 wholly crimsoned face and swiftly darkening brow of his 
 host, he continued, 
 
 " Many little things sorter tended to make our home in 
 Missouri onpleasant. A disposition to smash furniture and 
 heave knives around, an inclination to howl when drunk, 
 and that frequent ; a habitooal use of vulgar language, and 
 a tendency to cuss the casooal visitor, seemed to pint," 
 added Mr. "M'Closky with submissive hesitation " thet 
 she was so to speak quite onsuited to the marriage 
 relation in its holiest aspeck." 
 
 " Damnation ! Why did n't " burst out John Ashe. 
 erect and furious. 
 
 " At the end of two year," continued Mr. M'Closky, 
 still intent on the valise, " I allowed I 'd get a diworce. 
 Et about thet time, however, Providence sends a circus into 
 thet town and a feller ez rode three bosses to onct. Hevin' 
 allez a taste for athletic sports, she left town with this 
 feller, leavin' me and Jinny behind. I sent word to her
 
 216 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 thet if she would give Jinny to me we 'd call it quits. 
 And she did." 
 
 " Tell me," gasped Ashe, " did you ask your daughter to 
 keep this from me, or did she do it of her own accord ? " 
 
 " She does n't know it," said Mr. M'Closky ; " she thinks 
 I 'm her father and that her mother 's dead." 
 
 " Then, sir, this is your " 
 
 "I don't know," said Mr. M'Closky slowly, "ez I've 
 asked any one to marry my Jinny. I don't know ez I 've 
 persood that ez a biziness, or even taken it up as a healthful 
 recreation." 
 
 John Ashe paced the room furiously. Mr. M'Closky's 
 eyes left the valise and followed him curiously. " Where 
 is this woman ? " demanded Ashe suddenly. M'Closky's 
 eyes sought the valise again. 
 
 " She went to Kansas ; from Kansas she went into Texas. 
 From Texas she eventooally came to Californy. Being 
 here, I 've purvided her with money when her business 
 was slack through a friend." 
 
 John Ashe groaned. " She 's gettin' rather old and shaky 
 for hosses, and now does the tight-rope business and flying- 
 trapeze. Never hevin' seen her perform," continued Mr. 
 M'Closky, with conscientious caution, " I can't say how she 
 gets on. On the bills she looks well. Thar is a poster," 
 said Mr. M'Closky, glancing at Ashe, and opening his 
 valise, " thar is a poster givin' her performance at Marys- 
 ville next month." Mr. M'Closky slowly .unfolded a large 
 yellow and blue printed poster, profusely illustrated. " She 
 calls herself ' Mam'selle J. Miglawski, the great Kussian 
 Trapeziste.' " 
 
 John Ashe tore it from his hand. " Of course," he said, 
 suddenly facing Mr. M'Closky, "you don't expect me to 
 go on with this ? " 
 
 Mr. M'Closky picked up the poster, carefully refolded it, 
 and returned it to his valise. " When you break off with
 
 THE KOSE OF TUOLUMNE 217 
 
 Jinny," he said quietly, " I don't want anything said 'bout 
 this. She does n't know it. She 's a woman, and I reckon 
 you 're a white man." 
 
 " But what am I to say ? How am I to go back of my 
 word ? " 
 
 " Write her a note. Say something hez come to your 
 knowledge don't say what that makes you break it off. 
 You need n't be afeard Jinny '11 ever ask you what." 
 
 John Ashe hesitated. He felt he had been cruelly 
 wronged. No gentleman no Ashe could go on further 
 in this affair. It was preposterous to think of it. But some- 
 how he felt at the moment very unlike a gentleman or an 
 Ashe, and was quite sure he should break down under 
 Jinny's steady eyes. But then he could write to her. 
 
 " So ores is about as light here as on the Eidge. Well, 
 I reckon they'll come up before the rains. Good-night." 
 Mr. M'Closky took the hand that his host mechanically 
 extended, shook it gravely, and was gone. 
 
 When Mr. M'Closky, a week later, stepped again upon 
 his own veranda, he saw through the French window the 
 figure of a man in his parlor. Under his hospitable roof 
 the sight was not unusual, but for an instant a subtle sense 
 of disappointment thrilled him. When he saw it was not the 
 face of Ashe turned toward him he was relieved ; but when 
 he saw the tawny beard and quick, passionate eyes of Henry 
 Ranee he felt a new sense of apprehension, so that he fell 
 to rubbing his beard almost upon his very threshold. 
 
 Jinny ran into the hall, and seized her father with a little 
 cry of joy. " Father," said Jinny, in a hurried whisper, 
 " don't mind him " indicating Ranee with a toss of her 
 yellow braids ; " he 's going soon, and I think, father, I 've 
 done him wrong. But it 's all over with John and me now ; 
 read that note, and see how he 's insulted me." Her lip 
 quivered, but she went on : " It 's Ridgeway that he means, 
 father, and I believe it was his hand struck Ridgeway down,
 
 218 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 or that he knows who did. But hush, now ; not a 
 word." 
 
 She gave him a feverish kiss, and glided back into the 
 parlor, leaving Mr. M'Closky perplexed and irresolute with 
 the note in his hand. He glanced at it hurriedly and saw 
 that it was couched in almost the very words he had sug- 
 gested. But a sudden apprehensive recollection came over 
 him; he listened, and with an exclamation of dismay he 
 seized his hat and ran out of the house. But too late ; at 
 the same moment a quick, nervous footstep was heard upon 
 the veranda, the French window flew open, and with a light 
 laugh of greeting Ridgeway stepped into the room. 
 
 Jinny's finer ear first caught the step, Jinny's swifter feel- 
 ings had sounded the depths of hope, of joy. of despair 
 before he entered the room. Jinny's pale face was the 
 only one that met his, self-possessed and self-reliant, when 
 he stood before them. An angry flush suffused even the 
 pink roots of Ranee's beard as he rose to his feet ; an omi- 
 nous fire sprang into Eidgeway's eyes, and a spasm of hate 
 and scorn passed over the lower part of his face and left 
 the mouth and jaw immobile and rigid. 
 
 Yet he was the first to speak. " I owe you an apology," 
 he oaid to Jinny, with a suave scorn that brought the indig- 
 nant Hood back to her cheek, " for this intrusion, but I ask 
 no pardon for withdrawing from the only spot where that 
 man dare confront me with safety." 
 
 With an exclamation of rage, Eance sprang toward him. 
 But as quickly Jinny stood between them, erect and mena- 
 cing. " There must be no quarrel here," she said to Ranee. 
 " \Yhile I protect your right as my guest, don't oblige me 
 to remind you of mine as your hostess." She turned with 
 a half-deprecatory air to Ridgeway, but he was gone. So 
 was her father. Only Ranee remained, with a look of ill- 
 8oncealed triumph on his. face. 
 
 Without looking at him she passed toward the door.
 
 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 219 
 
 When she reached it she turned. " You asked me a question 
 an hour ago. Come to me in the garden at nine o'clock 
 to-night and I will answer you. But promise me first to 
 keep away from Mr. Dent ; give me your word not to seek 
 him to avoid him if he seeks you. Do you promise ? 
 It is well." 
 
 He would have taken her hand, but she waved him away. 
 In another moment he heard the swift rustle of her dress 
 in the hall, the sound of her feet upon the stair, the sharp 
 closing of her bedroom door, .and all was quiet. 
 
 And even thus quietly the day wore away, and the night 
 rose slowly from the valley and overshadowed the mountains 
 with purple wings that fanned the still air into a breeze, until 
 the moon followed it and lulled everything to rest as with 
 the laying on of white and benedictory hands. It was a 
 lovely night, but Henry Ranee, waiting impatiently beneath 
 a sycamore at the foot of the garden, saw no beauty in earth 
 or air or sky. A thousand suspicions common to a jealous 
 nature, a vague superstition of the spot, filled his mind with 
 distrust and doubt. " If this should be a trick to keep my 
 hands oft' that insolent pup ! " he muttered but even as the 
 thought passed his tongue, a white figure slid from the shrub- 
 bery near the house, glided along the line of picket fence, 
 and then stopped, midway, motionless in the moonlight. 
 
 It was she. But he scarcely recognized her in the white 
 drapery that covered her head and shoulders and breast. 
 He approached her with a hurried whisper. " Let us with- 
 draw from the moonlight. Everybody can see us here." 
 
 " We have nothing to say that cannot be said in the moon- 
 light, Henry Ranee," she replied, coldly receding from his 
 proffered hand. She trembled for a moment, as if with a 
 chill, and then suddenly turned upon him : " Hold up 
 your head, and let me look at you ! I 've known only what 
 men are ; let me see Avhat a traitor looks like ! " 
 
 He recoiled more from her wild face than her words.
 
 220 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 He saw for the first time that her hollow cheeks and hollow 
 eyes were hlazing with fever. He was no coward, but he 
 would have fled. 
 
 " You are ill, Jinny," he said ; " you had best return to 
 the house. Another time " 
 
 " Stop ! " she cried hoarsely ; " move from this spot, and 
 I '11 call for help ! Attempt to leave me now, and I '11 pro- 
 claim you the assassin that you are ! " 
 
 " It was a fair fight," he said doggedly. 
 
 " Was it a fair fight to creep behind an unarmed and 
 unsuspecting man ? Was it a fair fight to try to throw 
 suspicion on some one else ? Was it a fair fight to deceive 
 me ? Liar and coward that you are ! " 
 
 He made a stealthy step toward her with evil eyes, and 
 a wickeder hand that crept within his breast. She saw the 
 motion, but it only stung her to newer fury. 
 
 " Strike ! " she said, with blazing eyes, throwing her hands 
 open before him. " Strike ! Are you afraid of the woman 
 who dares you ? or do you keep your knife for the backs of 
 unsuspecting men ? Strike ! I tell you ! No ? Look then ! " 
 With a sudden movement she tore from her head and 
 shoulders the thick lace shawl that had concealed her figure 
 and stood before him. " Look ! " she cried passionately, 
 pointing to the bosom and shoulders of her white dress, 
 darkly streaked with faded stains and ominous discoloration. 
 " Look ! This is the dress I wore that morning when I 
 found him lying here here bleeding from your cowardly 
 knife. Look ! Do you see ? This is his blood my darling 
 boy's blood ! one drop of which, dead and faded as it is, 
 is more precious to me than the whole living pulse of any 
 other man ! Look ! I come to you to-night christened with 
 his blood and dare you to strike dare you to strike him 
 again through me and mingle my blood with his ! Strike. 
 I implore you ! Strike ! if you have any pity on me for 
 God's sake ! Strike ! if you are a man ! Look ! Here
 
 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 221 
 
 lay his head on my shoulder ; here I held him to my breast, 
 where never so help me, my God ! another man 
 Ah ! " 
 
 She reeled against the fence, and something that had 
 flashed in Ranee's hand dropped at her feet; for another 
 flash and report rolled him over in the dust, and across 
 his writhing body two men strode and caught her ere she 
 fell. 
 
 "She has only fainted," said Mr. M'Closky. "Jinny, 
 dear, my girl, speak to me ! " 
 
 " What is this on her dress ? " said Ridgeway, kneeling 
 beside her, and lifting his set and colorless face. At the 
 sound of his voice the color came faintly back to her cheek ; 
 she opened her eyes and smiled. 
 
 " It 's only your blood, dear boy," she said ; " but look a 
 little deeper and you '11 find my own." 
 
 She put up her two yearning hands and drew his face 
 and lips down to her own. When Ridgeway raised his head 
 again her eyes were closed, but her mouth still smiled as 
 with the memory of a kiss. 
 
 They bore her to the house, still breathing, but uncon- 
 scious. That night the road was filled with clattering 
 horsemen, and the summoned skill of the country-side for 
 leagues away gathered at her couch. The wound, they said, 
 was not essentially dangerous, but they had grave fears of 
 the shock to a system that already seemed suffering from 
 some strange and unaccountable nervous exhaustion. The 
 best medical skill of Tuolumne happened to be young and 
 observing, and waited patiently an opportunity to account 
 for it. He was presently rewarded. 
 
 For toward morning she rallied and looked feebly around. 
 Then she beckoned her father toward her, and whispered, 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 " They took him away, Jinny, dear, in a cart. He won't 
 trouble you ii.qin " I To stopped, for Miss Jinny had raised
 
 222 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 
 
 herself on her elbow, and was leveling her black brows at 
 him. But two kicks from the young surgeon, and a sig- 
 nificant motion toward the door, sent Mr. M'Closky away, 
 muttering, "How should I know that 'he' meant Ridge- 
 way ? " he said apologetically, as he went and returned 
 with the young gentleman. The surgeon, who was still hold- 
 ing her pulse, smiled, and thought that with a little care 
 and attention the stimulants might be diminished 
 and he might leave the patient for some hours, with 
 perfect safety. He would give further directions to Mr. 
 M'Closky downstairs. 
 
 It was with great archness of manner that half, an hour 
 later Mr. M'Closky entered the room with a preparatory 
 cough, and it was with some disappointment that he found 
 Ridgeway standing quietly by the window, and his daughter 
 apparently fallen into a light doze. He was still more 
 concerned when, after Ridgeway had retired, noticing a 
 pleasant smile playing about her lips, he said softly, 
 
 " You was thinking of some one, Jinny ? " 
 
 " Yes, father " the gray eyes met his steadily " of 
 poor John Ashe ! " 
 
 Her recovery was swift. Nature, that had seemed to 
 stand jealously aloof from her in her mental anguish, was 
 kind to the physical hurt of her favorite child. The superb 
 physique which had been her charm and her trial now stood 
 her in good stead. The healing balsam of the pine, the balm 
 of resinous gums, and the rare medicaments of Sierran alti- 
 tudes touched her, as it might have touched the wounded 
 doe. So that in two weeks she was able to walk about, and 
 when at the end of the month Ridgeway returned from a 
 flying visit to San Francisco, and jumped from the Wingdam 
 coach at four o'clock in the morning, The Rose of Tuolumne, 
 with the dewy petals of either cheek fresh as when first un- 
 folded to his kiss, confronted him on the road. 
 
 With a common instinct their young feet both climbed
 
 THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE 223 
 
 the little hill now sacred to their thought. "When they 
 reached its summit they were both, I think, a little disap- 
 pointed. There is a fragrance in the unfolding of a passion 
 that escapes the perfect flower. Jinny thought the night 
 was not as beautiful ; Ridge way, that the long ride had 
 blunted his perceptions. But they had the frankness to 
 confess it to each other, with the rare delight of such a con- 
 fession and the comparison of details which they thought 
 each had forgotten. And with this and an occasional pity- 
 ing reference to the blank period when they had not known 
 each other, hand in hand, they reached the house. 
 
 Mr. M'Closky was awaiting them impatiently upon the 
 veranda. When Miss Jinny had slipped upstairs to re- 
 place a collar that stood somewhat suspiciously awry, Mr. 
 M'Closky drew Ridgeway solemnly aside. He held a large 
 theatre poster in one hand, and an open newspaper in the 
 other. 
 
 " I allus said," he remarked slowly, with the air of merely 
 renewing a suspended conversation, "I allus said that 
 riding three bosses to onct was n't exactly in her line. It 
 would seem that it ain't. From remarks in this yer paper, 
 it would appear that she tried it on at Marysville last week 
 and broke her neck."
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTOEAL 
 
 HOW OLD MAN PLUNKETT WENT HOME 
 
 I THINK we all loved him. Even after he mismanaged 
 the affairs of the Amity Ditch Company, we commiserated 
 him, although most of us were stockholders and lost 
 heavily. I remember that the blacksmith went so far as 
 to say that " them chaps as put that responsibility on the 
 old man oughter be lynched." But the blacksmith was not 
 a stockholder, and the expression was looked upon as the 
 excusable extravagance of a large sympathizing nature, that, 
 when combined with a powerful frame, was unworthy of 
 notice. At least, that was the way they put it. Yet I 
 think there was a general feeling of regret that this misfor- 
 tune would interfere with the old man's long-cherished plan 
 of " going home." 
 
 Indeed, for the last ten years he had been " going home." 
 He was going home after a'six months' sojourn at Monte 
 Flat. He was going home after the first rains. He was 
 going home when the rains were over. He was going home 
 when he had cut the timber on Buckeye Hill, when there 
 was pasture on Dow's Flat, when he struck pay-dirt on 
 Eureka Hill, when the Amity Company paid its first divi- 
 dend, when the election was over, when he had received 
 an answer from his wife. And so the years rolled by ; the 
 spring rains came and went, the woods of Buckeye Hill 
 were level with the ground, the pasture of Dow's Flat grew 
 sere and dry, Eureka Hill yielded its pay-dirt and swamped 
 its owner, the first dividends of the Amity Company were 
 made from the assessments of stockholders, there were
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 225 
 
 new county officers at Mx>nte Flat, his wife's answer had 
 changed into a persistent question, and still old man 
 Plunkett remained. 
 
 It is only fair to say that he had made several distinct 
 essays towards going. Five years before he had .bidden 
 good-by to Monte Hill with much effusion and hand-shak- 
 ing. But he never got any farther than the next town. 
 Here he was induced to trade the sorrel colt he was riding 
 for a bay mare, a transaction that at once opened to his 
 lively fancy a vista of vast and successful future speculation, 
 A few days after, Abner Dean of Angel's received a letter 
 from him stating that he was going to Visalia to buy 
 horses. " I am satisfied," wrote Plunkett, with that ele- 
 vated rhetoric for which his correspondence was remarka- 
 ble, "I am satisfied that we are at last developing the 
 real resources of California. The world will yet look to 
 Dow's Flat as the great stock-raising centre. In view of 
 the interests involved I have deferred my departure for a 
 month." It was two months before he again returned to 
 us, penniless. Six months later he was again enabled to 
 start for the Eastern States, and this time he got as far as 
 San Francisco. I have before me a letter which I received 
 a few days after his arrival, from which I venture to give 
 an extract : " You know, my dear boy, that I have always 
 believed that gambling, as it is absurdly called, is still in 
 its infancy in California. I have always maintained that a 
 perfect system might be invented, by which the game of 
 poker may be made to yield a certain percentage to the 
 intelligent player. I am not at liberty at present to dis- 
 close the system, but before leaving this city I intend to 
 perfect it." He seems to have done so, and returned to 
 Monte Flat with two dollars and thirty-seven cents, the 
 absolute remainder of his capital after such perfection. 
 
 It was not until 1868 that he appeared to have finally 
 succeeded in going home. He left us by the overland route.
 
 26 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 
 
 a route which he declared would give great opportunity 
 for the discovery of undeveloped resources. His last letter 
 was dated Virginia City. He was absent three years. At 
 the close of a very hot day in midsummer he alighted from 
 the "Wingdam stage with hair and beard powdered with dust 
 and age. There was a certain shyness about his greeting, 
 quite different from his usual frank volubility, that did not, 
 however, impress us as any accession of character. For 
 some days he was reserved regarding his recent visit, con- 
 tenting himself with asserting, with more or less aggressive- 
 ness, that he had " always said he was going home, and 
 now he had been there." Later, he grew more communi- 
 cative, and spoke freely and critically of the manners and 
 customs of New York and Boston, commented on the social 
 changes in the years of his absence, and, I remember, was 
 very hard upon what he deemed the follies incidental to a 
 high state of civilization. Still later, he darkly alluded to 
 the moral laxity of the higher planes of Eastern society, 
 but it was not long before he completely tore away the veil 
 and revealed the naked wickedness of New York social life 
 in a way I even now shudder to recall. Vinous intoxica- 
 tion, it appeared, was a common habit of the first ladies of 
 the city ; immoralities which he scarcely dared name were 
 daily practiced by the refined of both sexes ; niggardliness 
 and greed were the common vices of the rich. " I have 
 always asserted," he continued, " that corruption must exist 
 where luxury and riches are rampant, and capital is not 
 used to develop the natural resources of the country. 
 
 Thank you, I will take mine without sugar." It is pos- 
 sible that some of these painful details crept into the local 
 journals. I remember an editorial in the " Monte Flat 
 Monitor," entitled " The Effete East," in which the fatal 
 decadence of New York and New England was elaborately 
 stated, and California offered as a means of natural salva- 
 tion. "Perhaps," said the "Monitor," "we might add
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 227 
 
 that Calaveras County offers superior inducements to the 
 Eastern visitor with capital." 
 
 Later he spoke of his family. The daughter he had left 
 a child had grown into beautiful womanhood ; the son was 
 already taller and larger than his father, and in a playful 
 trial of strength, " the young rascal," added Plunkett, with 
 a voice broken with paternal pride and humorous objurga- 
 tion, had twice thrown his doting parent to the ground. 
 But it was of his daughter he chiefly spoke. Perhaps 
 emboldened by the evident interest which masculine Monte 
 Flat held in feminine beauty, he expatiated at some length 
 on her various charms and accomplishments, and finally 
 produced her photograph that of a very pretty girl to 
 their infinite peril. But his account of his first meeting 
 with her was so peculiar that I must fain give it after his 
 own methods, which were, perhaps, some shades less precise 
 and elegant than his written style. 
 
 " You see, boys, it 's always been my opinion that a man 
 oughter be able to tell his own flesh and blood by instinct. 
 It 's ten years since I 'd seen my Melindy, and she was 
 then only seven, and about so high. So when I went to 
 New York, what did I do ? Did I go straight to my house 
 and ask for my wife and daughter, like other folks ? No, 
 sir ! I rigged myself up as a peddler, as a peddler, sir, 
 and I rung the bell. When the servant came to the door, 
 I wanted, don't you see, to show the ladies some trinkets. 
 Then there was a voice over the banister, says, * Don't want 
 anything send him away.' 'Some nice laces, ma'am, 
 smuggled,' I says, looking up. ' Get out, you wretch,' says 
 she. I knew the voice, boys, it was my wife ; sure as a 
 gun thar wasn't any instinct thar. ' Maybe the young 
 ladies want somethin',' I said. ' Did you hear me ? ' says 
 she, and with that she jumps forward, and I left. It 's ten 
 years, boys, since I 've seen the old woman, but somehow, 
 when she fetched that leap, I naterally left."
 
 228 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 
 
 He had been standing beside the bar his usual attitude 
 when he made this speech, but at this point he half-faced 
 his auditors with a look that was very effective. Indeed, a 
 few, who had exhibited some signs of skepticism and lack 
 of interest, at once assumed an appearance of intense grati- 
 fication and curiosity as he went on. 
 
 " Well, by hangin' round there for a day or two, I found 
 out at last it was to be Melindy's birthday next week, and 
 that she was goin' to have a big party. I tell ye what, boys > 
 it were n't no slouch of a reception. The whole house was 
 bloomin' with flowers, and blazin' with lights, and there 
 was no end of servants and plate and refreshments and 
 fixin's " 
 
 " Uncle Joe." 
 
 Well ? " 
 
 " Where did they get the money ? " 
 
 Plunkett faced his interlocutor with a severe glance. 
 " I always said," he replied slowly, " that when I went 
 home, I 'd send on ahead of me a draft for ten thousand 
 dollars. I always said that, did n't I ? Eh ? And I said 
 I was goin' home and I've been home haven't I? 
 Well ? " 
 
 Either there was something irresistibly conclusive in this 
 logic, or else the desire to hear the remainder of Plunkett's 
 story was stronger, but there was no more interruption. 
 His ready good humor quickly returned, and, with a slight 
 chuckle, he went on. 
 
 "I went to the biggest jewelry shop in town, and I 
 bought a pair of diamond earrings and put them in my 
 pocket, and went to the house. ' What name ? ' says the 
 chap who opened the door, and he looked like a cross 
 'twixt a restaurant waiter and a parson. ' Skeesicks,' said 
 I. He takes me in, and pretty soon my wife comes sailin' 
 into the parlor, and says, 'Excuse me, but I don't think 
 I recognize the name.' She was mighty polite, for I had
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 229 
 
 on a red wig and side-whiskers. ' A friend of your husband's 
 from California, ma'am, with a present for your daughter, 
 Miss ' and I made as I had forgot the name. But all 
 of a sudden a voice said, ' That 's too thin,' and in walked 
 Melindy. ' It 's playin' it rather low down, father, to pre- 
 tend you don't know your daughter's name ain't it now ? 
 How are you, old man ? ' And with that she tears off my 
 wig and whiskers, and throws her arms around my neck, 
 instinct, sir, pure instinct ! " 
 
 Emboldened by the laughter which followed his descrip- 
 tion of the filial utterances of Melinda, he again repeated 
 her speech, with more or less elaboration, joining in with, 
 and indeed often leading, the hilarity that accompanied it, 
 and returning to it with more or less incoherency, several 
 times during the evening. 
 
 And so at various times, and at various places but 
 chiefly in bar-rooms did this Ulysses of Monte Flat 
 recount the story of his wanderings. There were several 
 discrepancies in his statement, there was sometimes con- 
 siderable prolixity of detail, there was occasional change 
 of character and scenery, there was once or twice an 
 absolute change in the denouement, but always the fact 
 of his having visited his wife and children remained. Of 
 course in a skeptical community like that of Monte Flat 
 a community accustomed to great expectation and small 
 realization a community wherein, to use the local dialect, 
 " they got the color and struck hardpan " more frequently 
 than any other mining camp in such a community the 
 fullest credence was not given to old man Plunkett's facts. 
 There was only one exception to the general unbelief, 
 Henry York of Sandy Bar. It was he who was always an 
 attentive listener ; it was his scant purse that had often 
 furnished Plunkett with means to pursue his unprofitable 
 speculations ; it was to him that the charms of Melinda 
 were more frequently rehearsed ; it was he that had bor
 
 230 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 
 
 rowed her photograph ; and it was he that, sitting alone in 
 his little cabin one night, kissed that photograph until his 
 honest, handsome face glowed again in the firelight. 
 
 It was dusty in Monte Flat. The ruins of the long, dry 
 season were crumbling everywhere ; everywhere the dying 
 summer had strewn its red ashes a foot deep, or exhaled its 
 last breath in a red cloud above the troubled highways. The 
 alders and cottonwoods that marked the line of the water- 
 courses were grimy with dust, and looked as if they might 
 have taken root in the open air ; the gleaming stones of the 
 parched water-courses themselves were dry as bones in the 
 valley of death. The dusty sunset at times painted the 
 flanks of the distant hills a dull, coppery hue ; on other 
 days there was an odd, indefinable earthquake halo on the 
 volcanic cones of the farther coast- spurs j again, an acid, 
 resinous smoke from the burning wood on Heavytree Hill 
 smarted the eyes and choked the free breath of Monte Flat, 
 or a fierce wind, driving everything including the shriv- 
 eled summer like a curled leaf before it, swept down the 
 Hanks of the Sierras and chased the inhabitants to the doors 
 of their cabins, and shook its red fist in at their windows. 
 And on such a night as this the dust having, in some 
 way, choked the wheels of material progress in Monte Flat 
 most of the inhabitants were gathered listlessly in the 
 gilded bar-room- of the Moquelumne Hotel, spitting silently 
 at the red-hot stove that tempered the mountain winds to 
 the shorn lambs of Monte Flat, and waiting for the rain. 
 
 Every method known to the Flat of beguiling the time 
 until the advent of this long-looked-for phenomenon had 
 been tried. It is true the methods were not many, being 
 limited chiefly to that form of popular facetiae known as 
 practical joking ; and even this had assumed the seriousness 
 of a business pursuit. Tommy Roy, who had spent two 
 hours in digging a ditch in front of his own door into 
 .vhich a few friends casually dropped during the evening
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 231 
 
 looked ennuye and dissatisfied ; the four prominent citizens, 
 who, disguised as footpads, had stopped the County 
 Treasurer on the Wingdam road, were jaded from their 
 playful efforts next morning ; the principal physician and 
 lawyer of Monte Flat, who had entered into an unhallowed 
 conspiracy to compel the Sheriff of Calaveras and his posse 
 to serve a writ of ejectment on a grizzly bear, feebly dis- 
 guised under the name of " one Major Ursus," who haunted 
 the groves of Heavytree Hill, wore an expression of resigned 
 weariness. Even the editor of the " Monte Flat Monitor," 
 who had that morning written a glowing account of a battle 
 with the Wipneck Indians for the benefit of Eastern 
 readers even he looked grave and worn. When, at last, 
 Abner Dean of Angel's, who had been on a visit to San 
 Francisco, walked into the room, he was, of course, victim- 
 ized in the usual way by one or two apparently honest 
 questions which ended in his answering them, and then 
 falling into the trap of asking another to his utter and com- 
 plete shame and mortification but that was all. Nobody 
 laughed, and Abner, although a victim, did not lose his 
 good humor. He turned quietly on his tormentors and 
 said, 
 
 " I 've got something better than that you know old 
 man Plunkett ? " 
 
 Everybody simultaneously spat at the stove and nodded 
 his head. 
 
 " You know he went home three years ago ? " Two or 
 three changed the position of their legs from the backs of 
 different chairs, and one man said, " Yes." 
 
 " Had a good time home ? " 
 
 Everybody looked cautiously at the man who had said 
 " Yes," and he, accepting the responsibility with a faint- 
 hearted smile, said, " Yes," again, and breathed hard. 
 
 " Saw his wife and child, purty gal ? " said Abner 
 cautiously.
 
 232 A MONTE FLAT PASTOKAL 
 
 " Yes," answered the man doggedly. 
 
 " Saw her photograph, perhaps ? " continued Abner Dean 
 quietly. 
 
 The man looked hopelessly around for support. Two or 
 three who had been sitting near him, and evidently encour- 
 aging him with a look of interest, now shamelessly aban- 
 doned him and looked another way. Henry York flushed 
 a little and veiled his brown eyes. The man hesitated, and 
 then with a sickly smile that was intended to convey the 
 fact that he was perfectly aware of the object of this 
 questioning, and was only humoring it from abstract good 
 feeling, returned, " Yes," again. 
 
 11 Sent home let 's see ten thousand dollars, was n't 
 it ? " Abner Dean went on. 
 
 " Yes," reiterated the man, with the same smile. 
 
 " Well, I thought so," said Abner quietly ; " but the 
 fact is, you see, that he never went home at all nary 
 time." 
 
 Everybody stared at Abner in genuine surprise and inter- 
 est, as with provoking calmness and a half-lazy manner he 
 went on. 
 
 " You see, thar was a man down in 'Frisco as knowed 
 him and saw him in Sonora during the whole of that three 
 years. He was herding sheep or tending cattle, or spekilat- 
 ing all that time, and had n't a red cent. Well, it 'mounts 
 to this, that 'ar Plunketc ain't been east of the Rocky 
 Mountains since '49." 
 
 The laugh which Abner Dean had the right to confidently 
 expect came, but it was bitter and sardonic. I think indig- 
 nation was apparent in the minds of his hearers. It was 
 felt, for the first time, that there was a limit to practical 
 joking. A deception carried on for a year, compromising 
 the sagacity of Monte Flat, was deserving the severest 
 reprobation. Of course nobody had believed Plunkett ; but 
 then the supposition that it might be believed in adjacent
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 233 
 
 camps that they had believed him was gall and bitterness. 
 The lawyer thought that an indictment for obtaining money 
 under false pretenses might be found; the physician had 
 long suspected him of insanity, and was not certain but that 
 he ought to be confined. The four prominent merchants 
 thought that the business interests of Monte Flat demanded 
 that something should be done. In the midst of an excited 
 and angry discussion the door slowly opened, and old man 
 Plunkett staggered into the room. 
 
 He had changed pitifully in the last six months. His 
 hair was a dusty yellowish-gray, like the chemisal on the 
 flanks of Heavytree Hill ; his face was waxen-white and 
 blue and puffy under the eyes ; his clothes were soiled and 
 shabby, streaked in front with the stains of hurried lunch- 
 eons eaten standing, and fluffy behind with the wool and 
 hair of hurriedly extemporized couches. In obedience to 
 that odd law, that the more seedy and soiled a man's gar- 
 ments become the less does he seem inclined to part with 
 them, even during that portion of the twenty-four hours 
 when they are deemed least essential, Plunkett's clothes 
 had gradually taken on the appearance of a kind of bark, or 
 an outgrowth from within, for which their possessor was 
 not entirely responsible. Howbeit, as he entered the room 
 he attempted to button his coat over a dirty shirt, and 
 passed his fingers, after the manner of some animal, over 
 his cracker-strewn beard in recognition of a cleanly public 
 sentiment. But even as he did so the weak smile faded 
 from his lips, and his hand, after fumbling aimlessly around 
 a button, dropped helplessly at his side. For, as he leaned 
 his back against the bar and faced the group, he for the first 
 time became aware that every eye but one was fixed upon him. 
 His quick, nervous apprehension at once leaped to the truth. 
 His miserable secret was out and abroad in the very air about 
 him. As a last resort, he glanced despairingly at Henry 
 York, but his flushed face was turned toward the windows.
 
 234 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 
 
 No word was spoken. As the barkeeper silently swung 
 a decanter and glass before him, he took a cracker from a 
 dish and mumbled it with affected unconcern. He lingered 
 over his liquor, until its potency stiffened his relaxed sinews 
 and dulled the nervous edge of his apprehension, and then 
 he suddenly faced around. " It don't look as if we were 
 goin' to hev any rain much afore Christmas," he said with 
 defiant ease. 
 
 No one made any reply. 
 
 " Just like this in '52 and again in '60. It 's always 
 been my opinion that these dry seasons come reg'lar. I've 
 said it afore. I say it again. It 's jist as I said about go- 
 ing home, you know," he added with desperate recklessness. 
 
 "Thar's a man," said Abner Dean lazily, " ez sez you 
 never went home. Thar 's a man ez sez you 've been three 
 years in Sonora. Thar 's a man ez sez you hain't seen your 
 wife and daughter since '49. Thar 's a man ez sez you 've 
 been playin' this camp for six months." 
 
 There was a dead silence. Then a voice said, quite as 
 quietly, 
 
 " That man lies." 
 
 It was not the old man's voice. Everybody turned as 
 Henry York slowly rose, stretching out his six feet of length, 
 and, brushing away the ashes that had fallen from his pipe 
 upon his breast, deliberately placed himself beside Plunkett, 
 and faced the others. 
 
 " That man ain't here," continued Abner Dean with list- 
 less indifference of voice and a gentle preoccupation of 
 manner, as he carelessly allowed his right hand to rest on 
 his hip near his revolver. " That man ain't here, but if 
 I-'m called upon to make good what he says, why, I'm on 
 hand." 
 
 All rose as the two men perhaps the least externally 
 agitated of them all approached each other. The lawyer 
 stepped in between them.
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 235 
 
 " Perhaps there 's some mistake here. York, do you 
 know that the old man has been home ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How do you know it ? " 
 
 York turned his clear, honest, frank eyes on his questioner, 
 and without a tremor told the only direct and unmitigated 
 lie of his life. " Because I 've seen him there." 
 
 The answer was conclusive. It was known that York 
 had been visiting the East during the old man's absence. 
 The colloquy had diverted attention from Plunkett, who, 
 pale and breathless, was staring at his unexpected deliverer. 
 As he turned again toward his tormentors, there was some- 
 thing in the expression of his eye that caused those that 
 were nearest to him to fall back, and sent a strange, indefin- 
 able thrill through the boldest and most reckless. As he 
 made a step forward the physician almost unconsciously 
 raised his hand with a warning gesture, and old man Plun- 
 kett, with his eyes fixed upon the red-hot stove, and an odd 
 smile playing about his mouth, began, 
 
 " Yes of course you did. Who says you did n't ? It 
 ain't no lie ; I said I was goin' home, and I 've been home 
 Have n't I ? My God ! I have. Who says I 've been 
 lyin' ? Who says I 'm dreamin' ? Is it true why don't 
 you speak ? It is true, after all. You say you saw me 
 there why don't you speak again ? Say ! Say ! is it 
 true ? It 's going now, O my God it 's going again. 
 It 's going now. Save me ! " and with a fierce cry he fell 
 forward in a fit upon the floor. 
 
 When the old man regained his senses he found himself 
 in York's cabin. A flickering fire of pine boughs lit up the 
 rude rafters, and fell upon a photograph tastefully framed 
 with fir-cones, and hung above the brush whereon he lay. 
 It was the portrait of a young girl. It was the first object 
 to meet the old man's gaze, and it brought with it a flush 
 of such painful consciousness that he started and glanced
 
 236 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 
 
 quickly around. But his eyes only encountered those o{ 
 York, clear, brown, critical, and patient, and they fell 
 again. 
 
 " Tell me, old man," said York, not unkindly, but with 
 the same cold, clear tone in his voice that his eye betrayed a 
 moment ago, " tell me, is that a lie too ? " and he pointed 
 to the picture. 
 
 The old man closed his eyes, and did not reply. Two 
 hours before the question would have stung him into some 
 evasion or bravado. But the revelation contained in the 
 question, as well as the tone of York's voice, was to him 
 now, in his pitiable condition, a relief. It was plain even 
 to his confused brain that York had lied when he had 
 indorsed his story in the bar-room ; it was clear to him 
 now that he had not been home that he was not, as he 
 had begun to fear, going mad. It was such a relief that, 
 with characteristic weakness, his former recklessness and 
 extravagance returned. He began to chuckle finally, to 
 laugh uproariously. 
 
 York, with his eyes still fixed on the old man, withdrew 
 the hand with which he had taken his. 
 
 " Did n't we fool 'em nicely, eh, Yorky ? He ! he ! The 
 biggest thing yet ever played in this camp ! I always said 
 I 'd play 'em all some day, and I have played 'em for six 
 months. Ain't it rich ain't it the richest thing you ever 
 seed ? Did you see Abner's face when he spoke 'bout that 
 man as seed me in Sonora ? wa'n't it good as the min- 
 strels ? Oh, it 's too much ! " and striking his leg with the 
 palm of his hand, he almost threw himself from the bed in 
 a paroxysm of laughter a paroxysm that, nevertheless, 
 appeared to be half real and half affected. 
 
 " Is that photograph hers ? " said York in a low voice, 
 after a slight pause. 
 
 " Hers ? No ! It 's one of the San Francisco actresses, 
 He ! he 1 Don't you see I bought it for two bits in one of
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 237 
 
 the bookstores. I never thought they 'd swaller that too ! 
 but they did ! Oh, but the old man played 'em this time, 
 did n't he eh ? " and he peered curiously in York's face. 
 
 " Yes, and he played me too," said York, looking steadily 
 in the old man's eye. 
 
 " Yes, of course," interposed Plunkett hastily ; " but you 
 know, Yorky, you got out of it well ! You 've sold 'em too. 
 We 've both got 'em on a string now you and me got 
 to stick together now. You did it well, Yorky, you did it 
 well. Why, when you said you 'd seen me in York city, 
 I'm d d if I didn't" 
 
 " Did n't what ? " said York gently, for the old man had 
 stopped with a pale face and wandering eye. 
 
 Eh ? " 
 
 " You say when I said I had seen you in New York you 
 thought " 
 
 " You lie ! " said the old man fiercely ; " I did n't say I 
 thought anything. What are you trying to go back on me 
 for ? Eh ? " His hands were trembling as he rose, mut- 
 tering, from the bed, and made his way toward the hearth. 
 
 " Gimme some whiskey," he said presently, " and dry up. 
 You oughter treat, anyway. Them fellows oughter treated 
 last night. By hookey, I'd made 'em only I fell sick." 
 
 York placed the liquor and a tin cup on the table beside 
 him, and going to the door turned his back upon his guest 
 and looked out on the night. Although it was clear moon- 
 light the familiar prospect never to him seemed so dreary. 
 The dead waste of the broad Wingdam highway never 
 seemed so monotonous so like the days that he had passed 
 and were to come to him so like the old man in its 
 suggestion of going somewhere and never getting there. 
 He turned, and going up to Plunkett put his hand upon 
 his shoulder, arid said, 
 
 " I want you to answer one question fairly and squarely." 
 
 The liquor seemed to have warmed the torpid blood in
 
 238 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 
 
 the old man's veins and softened his acerbity, for the face 
 he turned up to York was mellowed in its rugged outline 
 and more thoughtful in expression as he said, 
 
 " Go on, my boy." 
 
 " Have you a wife and daughter ? " 
 
 " Before God, I have ! " 
 
 The two men were silent for a moment, both gazing at 
 the fire. Then Plunkett began rubbing his knees slowly. 
 
 "The wife, if it comes to that, ain't much," he began 
 cautiously, " being a little on the shoulder, you know, and 
 wantin', so to speak, a liberal California education which 
 makes, you know, a bad combination. It 's always been 
 my opinion that there ain't any worse. Why, she 's as ready 
 with her tongue as Abner Dean is with his revolver, only 
 with the difference that she shoots from principle, as she 
 calls it, and the consequence is she 's always layin' for you. 
 It 's the effete East, my boy, that 's ruinin' her ; it 's them 
 ideas she gets in New York and Boston that's made her 
 and me what we are. I don't mind her havin' 'em if she 
 did n't shoot. But havin' that propensity, them principles 
 ought n't to be lying round loose no more 'n firearms." 
 
 " But your daughter ? " said York. 
 
 The old man's hands went up to his eyes here, and then 
 both hands and head dropped forward on the table. " Don't 
 say anything 'bout her, my boy ; don't ask me now." With 
 one hand concealing his eyes he fumbled about with the 
 other in his pockets for his handkerchief but vainly. 
 Perhaps it was owing to this fact that he repressed his tears, 
 for when he removed his hand from his eyes they were 
 quite dry. Then he found his voice. 
 
 " She 's a beautiful girl, beautiful, though I say it ; and 
 you shall see her, my boy, you shall see her, sure. I 've 
 got things about fixed now. I shall have my plan for redu- 
 ciu' ores perfected in a day or two, and 1 've got proposals 
 from all the smeltin' works here " here he hastily produced
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 239 
 
 a bundle of papers that fell upon the floor " and I 'm goin' 
 to send for 'em. I 've got the papers here as will give me 
 ten thousand dollars clear in the next month," he added, as 
 he strove to collect the valuable documents again. " I '11 
 have 'em here by Christmas, if I live, and you shall eat 
 your Christmas dinner with me, York, my boy you shall, 
 sure." 
 
 With his tongue now fairly loosened by liquor and the 
 suggestive vastness of his prospects, he rambled on more 
 or less incoherently, elaborating and amplifying his plans 
 occasionally even speaking of them as already accomplished, 
 until the moon rode high in the heavens, and York led him 
 again to his couch. Here he lay for some time muttering 
 to himself, until at last he sank into a heavy sleep. When 
 York had satisfied himself of the fact, he gently took down 
 the picture and frame, and, going to the hearth, tossed 
 them on the dying embers, and sat down to see them burn. 
 
 The fir-cones leaped instantly into flame ; then the 
 features that had entranced San Francisco audiences nightly 
 flashed up and passed away, as such things are apt to 
 pass, and even the cynical smile on York's lips faded too. 
 And then there came a supplemental and unexpected flash 
 as the embers fell together, and by its light York saw a 
 paper upon the floor. It was one that had fallen from the 
 old man's pocket. As he picked it up listlessly a photo- 
 graph slipped from its folds. It was the portrait of a young 
 girl, and on its reverse was written, in a scrawling hand, 
 " Melinda to Father." 
 
 It was at best a cheap picture ; but, ah me ! I fear even 
 the deft graciousnoss of the highest art could not have 
 softened the rigid angularities of that youthful figure, its 
 self-complacent vulgarity, its cheap finery, its expressionless 
 ill favor. York did not look at it the second time. He 
 turned to the letter for relief. 
 
 It was misspelled, it was unpunctuated, it was almost
 
 240 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 
 
 illegible, it was fretful in tone and selfish in sentiment. It 
 was not, I fear, even original in the story of its woes. It 
 was the harsh recital of poverty, of suspicion, of mean 
 makeshifts and compromises, of low pains and lower long- 
 ings, of sorrows that were degrading, of a grief that was 
 pitiable. Yet it was sincere in a certain kind of vague 
 yearning for the presence of the degraded man to whom it 
 was written an affection that was more like a confused 
 instinct than a sentiment. 
 
 York folded it again carefully, and placed it beneath the 
 old man's pillow. Then he returned to his seat by the fire. 
 A smile that had been playing upon his face, deepening the 
 curves behind his mustache and gradually overrunning his 
 clear brown eyes, presently faded away. It was last to go 
 from his eyes, and it left there oddly enough to those 
 who did not know him a tear. 
 
 He sat there for a long time, leaning forward, his head 
 upon his hands. The wind that had been striving with the 
 canvas roof all at once lifted its edges, and a moonbeam 
 slipped suddenly in, and lay for a moment like a shining 
 blade upon his shoulder. And knighted by its touch, 
 straightway plain Henry York arose sustained, high- 
 purposed, and self-reliant ! 
 
 The rains had come at last. There was already a visible 
 greenness on the slopes of Heavytree Hill, and the long 
 white track of the Wingdam road was lost in outlying 
 pools and ponds a hundred rods from Monte Flat. The 
 spent water-courses, whose white bones had been sinuously 
 trailed over the flat, like the vertebrae of some forgotten 
 saurian, were full again ; the dry bones moved once more 
 in the valley, and there was joy in the ditches, and a par- 
 donable extravagance in the columns of the " Monte Flat 
 Monitor." "Never before in the history of the county 
 has the yield been so satisfactory. Our contemporary of 
 the ' Hillside Beacon,' who yesterday facetiously alluded to
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 241 
 
 the fact (?) that our best citizens were leaving town, in 
 ' dug-outs/ on account of the flood, will be glad to hear 
 that our distinguished fellow-townsman, Mr. Henrv York, 
 now on a visit to his relatives in the East, lately took with 
 him, in his ' dug-out,' the modest sum of fifty thousand 
 dollars, the result of one week's clean-up. We can im- 
 agine," continued that sprightly journal, " that no such 
 misfortune is likely to overtake Hillside this season. And 
 yet we believe the ' Beacon ' man wants a railroad." A 
 few journals broke out into poetry. The operator at Simp- 
 son's Crossing telegraphed to the Sacramento " Universe : " 
 " All day the low clouds have shook their garnered fullness 
 down." A San Francisco journal lapsed into noble verse, 
 thinly distinguished as editorial prose : " Rejoice ! the gentle 
 rain has come, the bright and pearly rain, which scatters 
 blessings on the hills, and sifts them o'er the plain. 
 Rejoice," etc. Indeed, there was only one to whom the 
 rain had not brought blessing, and that was Plunkett. In 
 some mysterious and darksome way, it had interfered with 
 the perfection of his new method of reducing ores, and 
 thrown the advent of that invention back another season. 
 It had brought him down to an habitual seat in the bar- 
 room, where, to heedless and inattentive ears, he sat and 
 discoursed of the East and his family. 
 
 No one disturbed him. Indeed, it was rumored that 
 some funds had been lodged with the landlord, by a person 
 or persons unknown, whereby his few wants were provided 
 for. His mania for that was the charitable construction 
 which Monte Flat put upon his conduct was indulged, 
 even to the extent of Monte Flat's accepting his invitation 
 to dine with his family on Christmas Day, an invitation 
 extended frankly to every one with whom the old man 
 drank or talked. But one day, to everybody's astonish- 
 ment, he burst into the bar-room, holding an open letter in 
 his hand. It read as follows :
 
 242 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 
 
 Be ready to meet your family at the new cottage on 
 Heavytree Hill on Christmas Day. Invite what friends 
 you choose. HENKY YORK. 
 
 The letter was handed round in silence. The old man, 
 with a look alternating between hope and fear, gazed in the 
 faces of the group. The Doctor looked up significantly, 
 after a pause. " It 's a forgery, evidently," he said in a 
 low voice ; " he 's cunning enough to conceive it, they 
 always are, but you '11 find he '11 fail in executing it. 
 Watch his face ! Old man," he said suddenly, in a loud, 
 peremptory tone, "this is a trick a forgery and you 
 know it. Answer me squarely, and look me in the eye. 
 Is n't it so ? " 
 
 The eyes of Plunkett stared a moment, and then dropped 
 weakly. Then, with a feebler smile, he said, " You 're too 
 many for me, boys. The Doc 's right. The little game 's 
 up. You can take the old man's hat." and so, tottering, 
 trembling, and chuckling, he dropped into silence and his 
 accustomed seat. But the next day he seemed to have for- 
 gotten this episode, and talked as glibly as ever of the 
 approaching festivity. 
 
 And so the days and weeks passed, until Christmas a 
 bright, clear day, warmed with south winds, and joyous with 
 the resurrection of springing grasses broke upon Monte 
 Flat. And then there was a sudden commotion in the 
 hotel bar-room, and Abner Dean stood beside the old 
 man's chair, and shook him out of a slumber to his feet. 
 " Kouse up, old man ! York is here, with your wife and 
 daughter at the cottage on Heavytree. Come, old man. 
 Here, boys, give him a lift," and in another moment a 
 dozen strong and willing hands had raised the old man, and 
 bore him in triumph to the street, up the steep grade of 
 Heavytree Hill, and deposited him, struggling and confused, 
 in the porch of a little cottage. At the same instant, two
 
 A MONTE FLAT PASTORAL 243 
 
 women rushed forward, but were restrained by a gesture 
 from Henry York. The old man was struggling to his feet. 
 With an effort, at last, he stood erect, trembling, his eye 
 fixed, a gray pallor on his cheek, and a deep resonance in 
 his voice. 
 
 " It 's all a trick, and a lie ! They ain't no flesh and 
 blood or kin o' mine. It ain't my wife, nor child. My 
 daughter's a beautiful girl a beautiful girl d' ye hear ? 
 She 's in New York, with her mother, and I 'm going to 
 fetch her here. I said I 'd go home, and I 've been home 
 d'ye hear me ? I've been home ! It 's a mean trick 
 you 're playin' on the old man. Let me go, d' ye hear ? 
 Keep them women off me ! Let me go ! I'm going 
 I 'm going home ! " 
 
 His hands were thrown up convulsively in the air, and, 
 half turning round, he fell sideways on the porch, and so to 
 the ground. They picked him up hurriedly ; but too late. 
 He had gone home.
 
 BABY SYLVESTER 
 
 IT was at a little mining camp in the California Sierras 
 that he first dawned upon me in all his grotesque sweetness. 
 
 I had arrived early in the morning, but not in time to 
 intercept the friend, who was the object of my visit. He 
 had gone " prospecting," so they told me on the river, 
 and would not probably return until late in the afternoon. 
 They could not say what direction he had taken ; they could 
 not suggest that I would be likely to find him if I followed. 
 But it was the general opinion that I had better wait. 
 
 I looked around me. I was standing upon the bank of 
 the river ; and, apparently, the only other human beings in 
 the world were my interlocutors, who were even then 
 just disappearing from my horizon down the steep bank 
 toward the river's dry bed. I approached the edge of the 
 bank. 
 
 Where could I wait ? 
 
 Oh, anywhere ; down with them on the river-bar, where 
 they were working, if I liked ! Or I could make myself at 
 home in any of those cabins that I found lying round loose. 
 Or, perhaps it would be cooler and pleasanter for me in my 
 friend's cabin on the hill. Did 1 see those three large sugar- 
 pines ? And, a little to the right, a canvas roof and chimney 
 over the bushes? Well that was my friend's that was 
 Dick Sylvester's cabin. I could stake my horse in that little 
 hollow, and just hang round there till he came. I would 
 find some books in the shanty ; I could amuse myself with 
 them. Or I could play with the baby. 
 
 Do what ?
 
 BABY SYLVESTER 245 
 
 But they had already gone. I leaned over the bank and 
 called after their vanishing figures, 
 
 " What did you say I could do ? " 
 
 The answer floated slowly up on the hot sluggish air, 
 
 " Pla-a-y with the ba-hy." 
 
 The lazy echoes took it up and tossed it languidly from 
 hill to hill, until Bald Mountain opposite made some inco- 
 herent remark about the baby, and then all was still. 
 
 I must have been mistaken. My friend was not a man 
 of family ; there was not a woman within forty miles of 
 ihe river-camp ; he never was so passionately devoted to 
 children to import a luxury so expensive. I must have 
 been mistaken. 
 
 I turned my horse's head toward the hill. As we slowly 
 climbed the narrow trail, the little settlement might have 
 been some exhumed Pompeian suburb, so deserted and 
 silent were its habitations. The open doors plainly disclosed 
 each rudely furnished interior, the rough pine table, with 
 the scant equipage of the morning meal still standing ; the 
 wooden bunk, with its tumbled and disheveled blankets. 
 A golden lizard the very genius of desolate stillness had 
 stopped breathless upon the threshold of one cabin ; a 
 squirrel peeped impudently into the window of another ; a 
 woodpecker, with the general flavor of undertaking which 
 distinguishes that bird, withheld his sepulchral hammer 
 from the coffin-lid of the roof on which he was profes- 
 sionally engaged, as we passed. For a moment, I half 
 regretted that I had not accepted the invitation to the river- 
 bed ; but, the next moment, a breeze swept up the long, 
 dark canon, and the waiting files of the pines beyond bent 
 toward me in salutation. I think my horse understood as 
 well as myself that it was the cabins that made the solitude 
 human, and therefore unbearable, for he quickened his 
 pace, and with a gentle trot brought me to the edge of the 
 wood and the three pines that stood like videttes before the 
 Sylvester outpost.
 
 246 BABY SYLVESTER 
 
 Unsaddling my horse in the little hollow, I unslung the 
 long riata from the saddlebow, and tethering him to a young 
 sapling, turned toward the cahin. But I had gone only a 
 few steps when I heard a quick trot hehind me, and pool 
 Pomposo, with every fibre tingling with fear, was at my heels. 
 I looked hurriedly around. The breeze had died away, and 
 only an occasional breath from the deep-chested woods, 
 more like a long sigh than any articulate sound, or the dry 
 singing of a cicala in the heated canon, were to be heard. 
 I examined the ground carefully for rattlesnakes, but in vain. 
 Yet here was Pomposo shivering from his arched neck to 
 his sensitive haunches, his very flanks pulsating with terror. 
 I soothed him as well as I could, and then walked to the 
 edge of the wood and peered into its dark recesses. The 
 bright flash of a bird's wing, or the quick dart of a squirrel, 
 was all I saw. I confess it was with something of super- 
 stitious expectation that I again turned toward the cabin. 
 A fairy child, attended by Titania and her train, lying in 
 an expensive cradle, would not have surprised me ; a Sleep- 
 ing Beauty, whose awakening would have re-peopled these 
 solitudes with life and energy, I am afraid I began to con- 
 fidently look for, and would have kissed without hesitation. 
 
 But I found none of these. Here was the evidence of 
 my friend's taste and refinement in the hearth swept scru- 
 pulously clean, in the picturesque arrangement of the fur 
 skins that covered the floor and furniture, and the serape 1 
 lying on the wooden couch. Here were the walls fanci- 
 fully papered with illustrations from the "London News ; " 
 here was the wood-cut portrait of Mr. Emerson over the 
 chimney, quaintly framed with bluejays' wings ; here were 
 his few favorite books on the swinging-shelf ; and here, lying 
 upon the couch, the latest copy of " Punch." Dear Dick ! 
 The flour-sack was sometimes empty, but the gentle satirist 
 seldom missed his weekly visit. . 
 
 1 A fine Mexican blanket, used as an outer garment for riding.
 
 BABY SYLVESTER 247 
 
 I threw myself on the couch and tried to read. But I 
 soon exhausted my interest in my friend's library, and lay 
 there staring through the open door on the green hillside 
 beyond. The breeze again sprang up, and a delicious 
 coolness, mixed with the rare incense of the woods, stole 
 through the cabin. The slumbrous droning of bumblebees 
 outside the canvas roof, the faint cawing of rooks on the 
 opposite mountain, and the fatigue of my morning ride, 
 began to droop my eyelids. I pulled the serajie over me 
 as a precaution against the freshening mountain breeze, and 
 in a few moments was asleep. 
 
 I do not remember how long I slept. I must have been 
 conscious, however, during my slumber, of my inability to 
 keep myself covered by the serajje, for I awoke once or twice 
 clutching it with a despairing hand as it was disappearing 
 over the foot of the couch. Then I became suddenly 
 aroused to the fact that my efforts to retain it were resisted 
 by some equally persistent force, and letting it go, I was 
 horrified at seeing it swiftly drawn under the couch. At 
 this point I sat vip, completely awake ; for immediately after, 
 Avhat seemed to be an exaggerated muff began to emerge 
 from under the couch. Presently it appeared fully, drag- 
 ging the scrape after it. There was no mistaking it now 
 it was a baby bear. A mere suckling, it was true a help- 
 less roll of fat and fur but unmistakably, a grizzly cub ! 
 
 I cannot recall anything more irresistibly ludicrous than 
 its aspect as it slowly raised its small wondering eyes to 
 mine. It was so much taller in its haunches than its 
 shoulders its fore legs were so disproportionately small 
 that in walking its hind feet invariably took precedence. It 
 was perpetually pitching forward over its pointed, inoffensive 
 nose, and recovering itself always, after these involuntary 
 somersaults, with the gravest astonishment. To add to its 
 preposterous appearance, one of its hind feet was adorned 
 by a shoe of Sylvester's, into which it had accidentally and
 
 248 BABY SYLVESTER 
 
 inextricably stepped. As this somewhat impeded its first 
 impulse to fly, it turned to me ; and then, possibly recog- 
 nizing in the stranger the same species as its master, it 
 paused. Presently, it slowly raised itself on its hind legs, 
 and vaguely and deprecatingly waved a baby paw, fringed 
 with little hooks of steel. I took the paw and shook it 
 gravely. From that moment we were friends. The little 
 affair of the serape was forgotten. 
 
 Nevertheless, I was wise enough to cement our friendship 
 by an act of delicate courtesy! Following the direction of 
 his eyes, I had no difficulty in finding, on a shelf near the 
 ridge-pole, the sugar-box and the square lumps of white 
 sugar that even the poorest miner is never without. While 
 he was eating them I had time to examine him more closely. 
 His body was a silky, dark, but exquisitely modulated gray, 
 deepening to black in his paws and muzzle. His fur was 
 excessively long, thick, and soft as eider-down, the cushions 
 of flesh beneath perfectly infantine in their texture and con- 
 tour. He was so very young that the palms of his half- 
 human feet were still tender as a baby's. Except for the 
 bright blue, steely hooks, half sheathed in his little toes, 
 there was not a single harsh outline or detail in his plump 
 figure. He was as free from angles as one of Leda's off- 
 spring. Your caressing hand sank away in his fur with 
 dreamy languor. To look at him long was an intoxication 
 of the senses ; to pat him was a wild delirium ; to embrace 
 him, an utter demoralization of the intellectual faculties. 
 
 When he had finished the sugar he rolled out of the door 
 with a half-diffident, half-inviting look in his eye, as if he 
 expected me to follow. I did so, but the sniffing and 
 snorting of the keen-scented Pomposo in the hollow, not 
 only revealed the cause of his former terror, but decided me 
 to take another direction. After a moment's hesitation he 
 concluded to go with me, although I am satisfied, from a 
 certain impish look in his eye, that he fully understood and
 
 BABY SYLVESTER 249 
 
 rather enjoyed the fright of Pomposo. As he rolled along 
 at my side, with a gait not unlike a drunken sailor, I dis- 
 covered that his long hair concealed a leather collar around 
 his neck, which bore for its legend the single word, " Baby ! ;> 
 I recalled the mysterious suggestion of the two miners. 
 This, then, was the " baby " with whom I was to " play." 
 
 How we " played ; " how Baby allowed me to roll him 
 down-hill, crawling and puffing up again each time, with 
 perfect good humor ; how he climbed a young sapling after 
 my Panama hat, which I had " shied " into one of the 
 topmost branches ; how after getting it he refused to de- 
 scend until it suited his pleasure ; liow when he did come 
 down he persisted in walking about on three legs, carrying 
 my hat, a crushed and shapeless mass, clasped to his 
 breast with the remaining one ; how I missed him at last, 
 and finally discovered him seated on a table in one of the 
 tenantless cabins, with a bottle of syrup between his paws, 
 vainly endeavoring to extract its contents these and 
 other details of that eventful day I shall not weary the 
 reader with now. Enough, that when Dick Sylvester re- 
 turned, I was pretty well fagged out, and the baby was rolled 
 up, an immense bolster at the foot of the couch, asleep. 
 Sylvester's first words after our greeting were, 
 
 " Is n't he delicious ? " 
 
 " Perfectly. Where did you get him ? " 
 
 "Lying under his dead mother, five miles from here," 
 said Dick, lighting his pipe. " Knocked her over at fifty 
 yards ; perfectly clean shot never moved afterwards ! 
 Baby crawled out, scared but unhurt. She must have been 
 carrying him in her mouth, and dropped him when she 
 faced me, for he was n't more than three days old, and not 
 steady on his pins. He takes the only milk that comes to 
 the settlement brought up by Adams' Express at seven 
 o'clock every morning. They say he looks like me. Do 
 you think so ? " asked Dick, with perfect gravity, stroking
 
 250 BABY SYLVESTER 
 
 his hay-colored mustaches, and evidently assuming his best 
 expression. 
 
 I took leave of the baby early the next morning in 
 Sylvester's cabin, and, out of respect for Pomposo's feelings, 
 rode by without any postscript of expression. But the night 
 before I had made Sylvester solemnly swear that, in the 
 event of any separation between himself and Baby, it should 
 revert to me. " At the same time," he had added, " it 's 
 only fair to say that I don't think of dying just yet, old 
 fellow, and I don't know of anything jelse that would part 
 the cub and me." 
 
 Two months after this conversation, as I was turning 
 over the morning's mail at my office in San Francisco, I 
 noticed a letter bearing Sylvester's familiar hand. But it 
 was postmarked " Stockton," and I opened it with some 
 anxiety at once. Its contents were as follows : 
 
 Frank ! don't you remember what we agreed upon 
 anent the baby ? Well, consider me as dead for the next 
 six months, or gone where cubs can't follow me East. I 
 know you love the baby ; but do you think, dear boy 
 now, really, do you think you could be a father to it ? 
 Consider this well. You are young, thoughtless, well-mean- 
 ing enough ; but dare you take upon yourself the functions 
 of guide, genius, or guardian to one so young and guileless ? 
 Could you be the Mentor to this Telemachus ? Think of 
 the temptations of a metropolis. Look at the question 
 well, and let me know speedily, for I 've got him as far as 
 this place, and he 's kicking up an awful row in the hotel- 
 yard and rattling his chain like a maniac. Let me know 
 by telegraph at once. SYLVESTER. 
 
 P. S. Of course he 's grown a little, and does n't take 
 things always as quietly as he did. He dropped rather 
 heavily on two of Watson's " purps " last week, and 
 snatched old Watson himself, bald-headed, for interfering.
 
 BABY SYLVESTER 251 
 
 You remember Watson : for an intelligent man, he knows 
 very little of California fauna. How are you fixed foi 
 bears on Montgomery Street I mean in regard to corrals 
 and things ? g. 
 
 P. P. S. He 's got some new tricks. The boys have 
 been teaching him to put up his hands with them. He 
 slings an ugly left. . S. 
 
 I am afraid that my desire to possess myself of Baby 
 overcame all other considerations, and I telegraphed an af- 
 firmative at once to Sylvester. When I reached my lodg- 
 ings late that afternoon, my landlady was awaiting me with 
 a telegram. It- was two lines from Sylvester : 
 
 All right. Baby goes down on night- boat. Be a father 
 to him. S. 
 
 It was due, then, at one o'clock that night. For a 
 moment I was staggered at my own precipitation. I had 
 as yet made no preparations had said nothing to my 
 landlady about her new guest. I expected to arrange 
 everything in time ; and now, through Sylvester's indecent 
 haste, that time had been shortened twelve hours. 
 
 Something, however, must be done at once. I turned 
 to Mrs. Brown. I had great reliance in her maternal 
 instincts ; I had that still greater reliance, common to our 
 sex, in the general tender-heartedness of pretty women. 
 But I confess I was alarmed. Yet, with a feeble smile, I tried 
 to introduce the subject with classical ease and lightness. 
 I even said, " If Shakespeare's Athenian clown, Mrs. 
 Brown, believed that a lion among ladies was a dreadful 
 thing, what must " But here I broke down, for Mrs. 
 Brown, with the awful intuition of her sex, I saw at once 
 was more occupied with my manner than my speech. So 
 I tried a business brusquerie, and, placing the telegram ic
 
 252 BABY SYLVESTER 
 
 her hand, said hurriedly, "We must do something about 
 this at once. It 's perfectly absurd, but he will be here at one 
 to-night. Beg thousand pardons, but business prevented 
 my speaking before " and paused, out of breath and 
 courage. 
 
 Mrs. Brown read the telegram gravely, lifted her pretty 
 ayebrows, turned the paper over and looked on the other 
 side, and then, in a remote and chilling voice, asked me if 
 she understood me to say that the mother was coming also 
 
 " Oh, dear no," I exclaimed, with considerable relief ; " the 
 mother is dead, you know. Sylvester that is my friend, 
 who sent this shot her when the baby was only three days 
 old " But the expression of Mrs. Brown's face at this 
 moment was so alarming that I saw that nothing but the 
 fullest explanation would save me. Hastily, and I fear not 
 very coherently, I told her all. 
 
 She relaxed sweetly. She said I had frightened her with 
 my talk about lions. Indeed, I think my picture of poor 
 Baby albeit a trifle highly colored touched her motherly 
 heart. She was even a little vexed at what she called 
 Sylvester's " hardrheartedness." Still, I was not without 
 some apprehension. It was two months since I had seen 
 him, and Sylvester's vague allusion to his " slinging an ugly 
 left " pained me. I looked at sympathetic little Mrs. Brown, 
 and the thought of Watson's pups covered me with guilty 
 confusion. 
 
 Mrs. Brown had agreed to sit up with me until he arrived. 
 One o'clock came, but no Baby. Two o'clock three 
 o'clock passed. It was almost four when there was a wild 
 clatter of horses' hoofs outside, and with a jerk a wagon 
 stopped at the door. In an instant I had opened it and 
 confronted a stranger. Almost at the same moment the 
 horses attempted to run away with the wagon. 
 
 The stranger's appearance was, to say the least, discon- 
 certing. His clothes were badly torn and frayed ; his linen
 
 BABY SYLVESTER 253 
 
 sack hung from his shoulders like a herald's apron ; one of 
 his hands was bandaged ; his face scratched, and there was 
 no hat on his disheveled head. To add to the general 
 effect, he had evidently sought relief from his woes in drink, 
 and he swayed from side to side as he clung to the door 
 handle, and in a very thick voice stated that he had 
 " suthin' " for me outside. When he had finished the 
 horses made another plunge. 
 
 Mrs. Brown thought they must be frightened at some- 
 thing. 
 
 " Frightened ! " laughed the stranger with bitter irony. 
 " Oh no ! Hossish ain't frightened ! On'y ran away four 
 timesh comiii' here. Oh no ! Nobody 's frightened. Every- 
 thin' 's all ri'. Ain't it, Bill ? " he said, addressing the 
 driver. " On'y been overboard twish ; knocked down a 
 hatchway once. Thash nothin' ! On'y two men unner 
 doctor's ban's at Stockton. Thash nothin' ! Six hunner 
 dollarsh cover all dammish." 
 
 I was too much disheartened to reply, but moved toward 
 the wagon. The stranger eyed me with an astonishment 
 that almost sobered him. 
 
 " Do you reckon to tackle that animile yourself ? " he 
 asked, as he surveyed me from head to foot. 
 
 I did not speak, but, with an appearance of boldness 
 I was far from feeling, walked to the wagon and called 
 " Baby ! " 
 
 "All ri'. Cash loosh them straps, Bill, and stan' clear." 
 
 The straps were cut loose, and Baby the remorseless, 
 the terrible quietly tumbled to the ground, and rolling tc 
 my side, rubbed his foolish head against me. 
 
 I think the astonishment of the two men was beyond any 
 vocal expression. Without a word the drunken stranger 
 got into the wagon and drove away. 
 
 And Baby ? He had grown, it is true, a trine larger .; 
 but he was thin, and bore the marks of evident ill usage
 
 254 BABY SYLVESTER 
 
 His beautiful coat was matted and unkempt, and his claws 
 those bright steel hooks had been ruthlessly pared to 
 the quick. His eyes were furtive and restless, and the old 
 expression of stupid good humor had changed to one of 
 intelligent distrust. His intercourse with mankind had 
 avidently quickened his intellect without broadening his 
 moral nature. 
 
 I had great difficulty in keeping Mrs. Brown from 
 smothering him in blankets and ruining his digestion with 
 the delicacies of her larder ; but I at last got him completely 
 rolled up in the corner of my room and asleep. I lay 
 awake some time later with plans for his future. I finally 
 determined to take him to Oakland, where I had built a 
 little cottage and always spent my Sundays, the very next 
 day. And in the midst of a rosy picture of domestic 
 felicity I fell asleep. 
 
 When I awoke it was broad day. My eyes at once 
 sought the corner where Baby had been- lying. But he was 
 gone. I sprang from the bed, lookedv under it, searched 
 the closet, but in vain. The door was still locked ; but 
 there were the marks of his blunted claws upon the sill of 
 the window that I had forgotten to close. He had evi- 
 dently escaped that way but where ? The window opened 
 upon a balcony, to which the only other entrance was 
 through the hall. He must be still in the house. 
 
 My hand was already upon the bell-rope, but I stayed it 
 in time. If he had not made himself known, wlvy should I 
 disturb the house ? I dressed myself hurriedly and clipped 
 into the hall. The first object that met my eyes was a 
 boot lying upon the stairs. It bore the marks of Baby's 
 teeth, and as I looked along the hall I saw too plainly 
 that the usual array of freshly blackened boots and shoes 
 before the lodgers' doors was not there. As I ascended 
 the stairs I found another, but with the blacking carefully 
 licked off. On the third floor were two or three more
 
 BABY SYLVESTER 255 
 
 boots slightly mouthed ; but at this point Baby's taste for 
 blacking had evidently palled. A little farther on was a 
 ladder leading to an open scuttle. I "mounted the ladder, 
 and reached the flat roof that formed a continuous level 
 over the row of houses to the corner of the street. Behind 
 the chimney on the very last roof something was lurking. 
 It was the fugitive Baby. He was covered with dust and 
 dirt and fragments of glass. But he was sitting on his 
 hind legs, and was eating an enormous slab of peanut 
 candy with a look of mingled guilt and infinite satisfaction. 
 He even, I fancied, slightly stroked his stomach with his 
 disengaged fore paw as I approached. He knew that I 
 was looking for him, and the expression of his eyes said 
 plainly, " The past, at least, is secure." 
 
 I hurried him, with the evidences of his guilt, back to 
 the scuttle, and descended on tiptoe to the floor beneath. 
 Providence favored us ; I met no one on the stairs, and 
 his own cushioned tread was inaudible. I think he was 
 conscious of the dangers of detection, for he even forbore 
 to breathe, or much less chew the last mouthful he had 
 taken ; and he skulked at my side, with the syrup dropping 
 from his motionless jaws. I think he would have silently 
 choked to death just then for my sake, and it was not 
 until I had reached my room again, and threw myself 
 panting on the sofa, that I saw how near strangulation he 
 had been. He gulped once or twice, apologetically, and 
 then walked to the corner of his own accord, and rolled 
 himself up like an immense sugar-plum, sweating remorse 
 and treacle at every pore. 
 
 I locked him in when I went to breakfast, when I found 
 Mrs. Brown's lodgers in a state of intense excitement over 
 certain mysterious events of the night before, and the 
 dreadful revelations of the morning. It appeared that 
 burglars had entered the block from the scuttles ; that, 
 being suddenly alarmed, they had quitted our house with-
 
 256 BABY SYLVESTER 
 
 out committing any depredation, dropping even the boots 
 they had collected in the halls ; but that a desperate attempt 
 had been made to foroe the till in the confectioner's shop 
 on the corner, and that the glass show-case had been ruth- 
 lessly smashed. A courageous servant in No. 4 had seen 
 a masked burglar, on his hands and knees, attempting to 
 enter their scuttle ; but on her shouting, " Away wid yees," 
 he instantly fled. 
 
 I sat through this recital with cheeks that burned un- 
 comfortably ; nor was I the less embarrassed on raising my 
 eyes to meet Mrs. Brown's fixed curiously and mischievously 
 on mine. As soon as I could make my escape from the 
 table I did so, and, running rapidly upstairs, sought refuge 
 from any possible inquiry in my own room. Baby was still 
 asleep in the corner. It would not be safe to remove him 
 until the lodgers had gone down-town, and I was revolving 
 in my mind the expediency of keeping him until night 
 veiled his obtrusive eccentricity from the public eye, when 
 there came a cautious tap at my door. I opened it. Mrs. 
 Brown slipped in quietly, closed the door softly, stood with 
 her back against it and her hand on the knob, and beckoned 
 me mysteriously toward her. Then she asked, in a low 
 voice, 
 
 " Is hair-dye poisonous ? " 
 
 I was too confounded to speak. 
 
 " Oh, do ! you know what I mean," she said impatiently. 
 " This stuff." She produced suddenly from behind her a 
 bottle with a Greek label so Jong as to run two or three 
 times spirally around it from top to bottom. " He says it 
 is n't a dye ; it 's a vegetable preparation, for invigorat- 
 ing " 
 
 " Who says ? " I asked despairingly. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Parker, of course," said Mrs. Brown severely, 
 with the air of having repeated the name a great many 
 times, " the old gentleman in the room above. The
 
 BABY SYLVESTEE 25 1 } 
 
 simple question I want to ask," she continued, with the 
 calm manner of one who had just convicted another of 
 gross ambiguity of language, is only this : If some of this 
 stuff were put in a saucer and left carelessly on the table, 
 and a child, or a baby, or a cat, or any young animal, should 
 come in^at the window and drink it up a whole saucer 
 f ul because it had a sweet taste, would it be likely to 
 hurt them ? " 
 
 I cast an anxious glance at Baby, sleeping peacefully in 
 the corner, and a very grateful one at Mrs. Brown, and 
 said I didn't think it would. 
 
 " Because," said Mrs. Brown loftily, as she opened the 
 door, " I thought if it was poisonous, remedies might be 
 used in time. Because," she added suddenly, abandoning 
 her lofty manner and wildly rushing to the corner, with a 
 frantic embrace of the unconscious Baby, " because if any 
 nasty stuff should turn its booful hair a horrid green or a 
 naughty pink, it would break his own muzzer's heart, it 
 would ! " 
 
 But before I could assure Mrs. Brown of the inefficiency 
 of hair-dye as an internal application, she had darted from 
 the room. 
 
 That night, with the secrecy of defaulters, Baby and I 
 decamped from Mrs. Brown's. Distrusting the too emo- 
 tional nature of that noble animal, the horse, I had recourse 
 to a hand-cart, drawn by a stout Irishman, to convey my 
 charge to the ferry. Even then Baby refused to go unless 
 I walked by the cart, and at times rode in it. 
 
 " I wish," said Mrs. Brown, as she stood by the door ; 
 wrapped in an immense shawl, and saw us depart, "I wish 
 it looked less solemn less like a pauper's funeral." 
 
 I must admit that, as I walked by the cart that night, I 
 felt very much as if I were accompanying the remains of 
 some humble friend to his last resting-place ; and that, when 
 I was obliged to ride in it, I never could entirely convince
 
 58 BABY SYLVESTER 
 
 myself that I was not helplessly overcome hy liquor, or the 
 victim of an accident, en route to the hospital. But at last 
 we reached the ferry. On the boat I think no one discov- 
 ered Bahy except a drunken man, who approached me to 
 ask for a light for hL cigar, but who suddenly dropped it 
 and fled in dismay to the gentlemen's cabin, where his inco- 
 herent ravings were luckily taken for the earlier indications 
 of delirium tremens. 
 
 It was nearly midnight when I reached my little cottage 
 on the outskirts of Oakland ; and it was with a feeling of 
 relief and security that I entered, locked the door, and 
 turned him loose in the hall, satisfied that henceforward his 
 depredations would be limited to my own property. He 
 was very quiet that night, and after he had tried to mount 
 the hat-rack, under the mistaken impression that it was in- 
 tended for his own gymnastic exercise, and knocked all the 
 hats off, he went peaceably to sleep on the rug. 
 
 In a week, with the exercise afforded him by the run of 
 a large, carefully boarded inclosure, he recovered his health, 
 strength, spirits, and much of his former beauty. His 
 presence was unknown to my neighbors, although it was 
 noticeable that horses invariably " shied " in passing to the 
 windward of my house, and that the baker and milkman 
 had great difficulty in the delivery of their wares in the 
 morning, and indulged in unseemly and unnecessary pro- 
 fanity in so doing. 
 
 At the end of the week, I determined to invite a few 
 friends to see the Baby, and to that purpose wrote a num- 
 ber of formal invitations. After descanting, at some length, 
 on the great expense and danger attending his capture and 
 training, I offered a programme of the performances of the 
 " Infant Phenomenon of Sierran Solitudes," drawn up into 
 the highest professional profusion of alliteration and capital 
 letters. A few extracts will give the reader some idea of 
 bis educational progress :
 
 BABY SYLVESTER 259 
 
 1. He will, rolled up in a Eound Ball, roll down the Wood 
 
 Shed, Rapidly, illustrating His manner of Escaping 
 from His Enemy in his Native Wilds. 
 
 2. He will Ascend the Well-Pole, and remove from the 
 
 Very Top a Hat, and as much of the Crown and 
 Brim thereof as May be Permitted. 
 
 3. He will perform in a pantomime, descriptive of the 
 
 Conduct of the Big Bear, The Middle-Sized Bear, and 
 The Little Bear of the Popular Nursery Legend. 
 
 4. He will shake his chain Rapidly, showing his Manner 
 
 of striking Dismay and Terror in the Breasts of 
 Wanderers in Ursine Wildernesses. 
 
 The morning of the exhibition came, but an hour before 
 the performance the wretched Baby was missing. The 
 Chinese cook could not indicate his whereabouts. I 
 searched the premises thoroughly, and then, in despair, 
 took my hat and hurried out into the narrow lane that led 
 toward the open fields and the woods beyond. But I found 
 no trace nor track of Baby Sylvester. I returned, after an 
 hour's fruitless search, to find my guests already assembled 
 on the rear veranda. I briefly recounted my disappoint- 
 ment, my probable loss, and begged their assistance. 
 
 "Why," said a Spanish friend, who prided himself on 
 his accurate knowledge of English, to Barker, who seemed 
 to be trying vainly to rise from his reclining position on 
 the veranda, " why do you not disengage yourself from the 
 veranda of our friend ? and why, in the name of Heaven 
 do you attach to yourself so much of this thing, and make to 
 yourself such unnecessary contortion ? Ah," he continued, 
 suddenly withdrawing one of his own feet from the veranda 
 with an evident effort, " I am myself attached ! Surely, it 
 is something here ! " 
 
 It evidently was. My guests were all rising with diffi- 
 culty, the floor of the veranda was covered with some 
 glutinous substance. It was syrup!
 
 260 BABY SYLVESTER 
 
 I saw it all in a flash. I ran to the barn ; the keg of 
 " golden syrup," purchased only the day before, lay empty 
 upon the floor. There were sticky tracks all over the in- 
 closure, but still no Baby. 
 
 " There 's something moving the ground over there by 
 that pile of dirt," said Barker. 
 
 He was right ; the earth was shaking in one corner of 
 the inclosure like an earthquake. I approached cautiously. 
 I saw, what I had not before noticed, that the ground was 
 thrown up ; and there, in the middle of an immense grave- 
 like cavity, crouched Baby Sylvester, still digging, and 
 slowly, but surely, sinking from sight in a mass of dust and 
 clay. 
 
 What were his intentions ? Whether he was stung by 
 remorse, and wished to hide himself from my reproachful 
 eyes, or whether he was simply trying to dry his t syrup- 
 besmeared coat, I never shall know, for that day, alas ! was 
 his last with me. 
 
 He was pumped upon for two hours, at the end of which 
 time he still yielded a thin treacle. He was then taken and 
 carefully enwrapped in blankets and locked up in the 
 storeroom. The next morning he was gone I The lower 
 portion of the window sash and pane were gone too. His 
 successful experiments on the fragile texture of glass at the 
 confectioner's,' on the first day of his entrance to civilization, 
 had not been lost upon him. His first essay at combining 
 cause and effect ended in his escape. 
 
 Where he went, where he hid, who captured him if he 
 did not succeed in reaching the foothills beyond Oakland, 
 even the offer of a large reward, backed by the efforts of an 
 intelligent police, could not discover. I never saw him 
 again from that day until 
 
 Did I see him ? I was in a horse-car on Sixth Avenue, 
 a few days ago, when the horses suddenly became unmanage- 
 able and left the track for the sidewalk, amid the oaths and
 
 BABY SYLVESTER 261 
 
 execrations of the driver, immediately in front of the car 
 a crowd had gathered around two performing bears and a 
 showman. One of the animals thin, emaciated, and the 
 mere wreck of his. native strength attracted my attention, 
 I endeavored to attract his. He turned a pair of bleared, 
 sightless eyes in my direction, but there was no sign of 
 recognition. I leaned from the car window and called 
 softly, " Baby ! " But he did not heed. I closed the win- 
 dow. The car was just moving on, when he suddenly 
 turned, and, either by accident or design, thrust a callous 
 paw through the glass. 
 
 " It 's worth a dollar and a half to put in a new pane," 
 said the conductor, " if folks will play with bears ! "
 
 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 
 
 As I opened Hop Sing's letter there fluttered to the 
 ground a square strip of yellow paper covered with hiero- 
 glyphics, which at first glance I innocently took to be the 
 label from a pack of Chinese fire-crackers. But the same 
 envelope also contained a smaller strip of rice paper, with 
 two Chinese characters traced in India ink, that I at once 
 knew to be Hop Sing's visiting card. The whole, as after- 
 wards literally translated, ran as follows : 
 
 To the stranger the gates of my house are not closed ; 
 the rice-jar is on the left, and the sweetmeats on the 
 right, as you enter. 
 Two sayings of the Master : 
 
 Hospitality is the virtue of the son -and the wisdom 
 
 of the ancestor. 
 
 The superior man is light-hearted after the crop- 
 gathering ; he makes a festival. 
 
 When the stranger is in your melon patch observe him 
 not too closely ; inattention is often the highest form 
 of civility. 
 Happiness, Peace, and Prosperity. HOP SING. 
 
 Admirable, certainly, as was this morality and proverbial 
 wisdom, and although this last axiom was very characteristic 
 of my friend Hop Sing, who was that most sombre of all 
 humorists, a Chinese philosopher, I must confess that, even 
 after a very free translation, I was at a loss to make any 
 immediate application of the message. Luckily I discovered
 
 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 263 
 
 a third inclosure in the shape of a little note in English and 
 Hop Sing's own commercial hand. It ran thus : 
 
 The pleasure of your company is requested at No. i 
 Sacramento Street, on Friday evening at eight o'clock. A 
 cup of tea at nine sharp. HOP SING. 
 
 This explained all. It meant a visit to Hop Sing's ware- 
 house, the opening and exhibition of some rare Chinese 
 novelties and curios, a chat in the back office, a cup of tea 
 of a perfection unknown beyond these sacred precincts, 
 cigars, and a visit to the Chinese Theatre or Temple. This 
 was in fact the favorite programme of Hop Sing when he 
 exercised his functions of hospitality as the chief factor or 
 superintendent of the Ning Foo Company. 
 
 At eight o'clock on Friday evening I entered the ware- 
 house of Hop Sing. There was that deliciously commingled 
 mysterious foreign odor that I had so often noticed ; there 
 was the old array of uncouth-looking objects, the long pro- 
 cession of jars and crockery, the same singular blending of 
 the grotesque and the mathematically neat and exact, the 
 same endless suggestions of frivolity and fragility, the same 
 want of harmony in colors that were each, in themselves, 
 beautiful and rare. Kites in the shape of enormous dragons 
 and gigantic butterflies ; kites so ingeniously arranged as to 
 litter at intervals, when facing the wind, the cry of a hawk ; 
 kites so large as to be beyond any boy's power of restraint 
 so large that you understood why kite-flying in China was 
 an amusement for adults ; gods of china and bronze so 
 gratuitously ugly as to be beyond any human interest or 
 sympathy from their very impossibility ; jars of sweetmeats 
 covered all over with moral sentiments from Confucius ; 
 hats that looked like baskets, and baskets that looked like 
 hats ; silk so light that I hesitate to record the incredible 
 number of square yards that you might pass through the
 
 264 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 
 
 ring on your little finger these and a great many other inde- 
 scribable objects were all familiar to me. I pushed my way 
 through the dimly lighted warehouse until I reached the 
 back office or parlor, where I found Hop Sing waiting to 
 receive me. 
 
 Before I describe him. I want the average reader to dis- 
 charge from his mind any idea of a Chinaman that he 
 may have gathered from the pantomime. He did not 
 wear beautifully scalloped drawers fringed with little bells 
 I never met a Chinaman who did ; he did not habitually 
 carry his forefinger extended before him at right angles with 
 his body, nor did I ever hear him titter the mysterious sen- 
 tence, " Ching a ring a ring chaw," nor dance under any pro- 
 vocation. He was, on the whole, a rather grave, decorous, 
 handsome gentleman. His complexion, which extended 
 all over his head except where his long pig-tail grew, was 
 like a very nice piece of glazed brown paper-muslin. His 
 eves were black and bright, and his eyelids set at an angle 
 of 15 ; his nose straight and delicately formed, his mouth 
 small, and his teeth white and clean. He wore a dark blue 
 silk blouse, and in the streets on cold days a short jacket 
 of Astrakhan fur. He wore also a pair of drawers of blue 
 brocade gathered tightly over his calves and ankles, offering 
 a general sort of suggestion that he had forgotten his trousers 
 that morning, but that, so gentlemanly were his manners, 
 his friends had forborne to mention the fact to him. His 
 manner was urbane, although quite serious. He spoke 
 French and English fluently. In brief, I doubt if you 
 could have found the equal of this Pagan shopkeeper 
 among the Christian traders of San Francisco. 
 
 There were a few others present : a Judge of the Federal 
 Court, an editor, a high government official, and a promi- 
 nent merchant. After we had drunk our tea, and tasted 
 a few sweetmeats from a mysterious jar, that looked as if it 
 might contain a preserved mouse among its other nonde-
 
 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 265 
 
 fecript treasures, Hop Sing arose, and gravely beckoning us 
 to follow him, began to descend to the basement. When 
 we got there, we were amazed at finding it brilliantly lighted, 
 and that a number of chairs were arranged in a half-circle 
 on the asphalt pavement. When he had courteously seated 
 us, he said, 
 
 " I have invited you to witness a performance which I 
 can at least promise you no other foreigners but yourselves 
 have ever seen. Wang, the court juggler, arrived here 
 yesterday morning. He has never given a performance 
 outside of the palace before. I have asked him to entertain 
 my friends this evening. He requires no theatre, stage, ac- 
 cessories, or any confederate nothing more than you see 
 here. Will you be pleased to examine the ground your- 
 selves, gentlemen." 
 
 Of course we examined the premises. It was the 
 ordinary basement or cellar of the San Francisco store- 
 house, cemented to keep out the damp. We poked our 
 sticks into the pavement and rapped on the walls to satisfy 
 our polite host, but for no other purpose. W T e were quite 
 content to be the victims of any clever deception. For 
 myself, I knew I was ready to be deluded to any extent, 
 and if I had been offered an explanation of what followed, 
 I should have probably declined it. 
 
 Although I am satisfied that Wang's general performance 
 was the first of that kind ever given on American soil, it has 
 probably since become so familiar to many of my readers 
 that I shall not bore .them with it here. He began by seu 
 ting to flight, with the aid of his fan, the usual number of 
 butterflies made before our eyes of little bits of tissue-paper, 
 and kept them in the air during the remainder of the per- 
 formance. I have a vivid recollection of the judge trying 
 to catch one that had lit on his knee, and of its evading 
 him with the pertinacity of a living insect. And even at 
 this time Wang, still plying his fan, was taking chicken?
 
 266 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 
 
 out of hats, making oranges disappear, .pulling endless yards 
 of silk from his sleeve, apparently rilling the whole area of 
 the basement with goods that appeared mysteriously from 
 the ground, from his own sleeves, from nowhere ! He 
 swallowed knives to the ruin of his digestion for years to 
 come ; he dislocated every limb of his body ; he reclined in 
 the air, apparently upon nothing. But his crowning per- 
 formance, which I have never yet seen repeated, was the 
 most weird, mysterious, and astounding. It is my apology 
 for this long introduction, my sole excuse for writing this 
 article, the genesis of this veracious history. 
 
 He cleared the ground of its encumbering articles for 
 a space of about fifteen feet square, and then invited us all 
 to walk forward and again examine it. We did so gravely ; 
 there was nothing but the cemented pavement below to be 
 seen or felt. He then asked for the loan of a handkerchief, 
 and, as I chanced to be nearest him, I offered mine. He 
 took it and spread it open upon the floor. Over this he 
 spread a large square of silk, and over this again a large 
 shawl nearly covering the space he had cleared. He then 
 took a position at one of the points of this rectangle, and 
 began a monotonous chant, rocking his body to and fro in 
 time with the somewhat lugubrious air. 
 
 We sat still and waited. Above the chant we could hear 
 the striking of the city clocks, and the occasional rattle of 
 a cart in the street overhead. The absolute watchfulness 
 and expectation, the dim, mysterious half-light of the cellar, 
 falling in a gruesome way upon the misshapen bulk of a 
 Chinese deity in the background, a faint smell of opium 
 smoke mingling with spice, and the dreadful uncertainty 
 of what we were really waiting for, sent an uncomfortable 
 thrill down our backs, and made us look at each other with 
 a forced and unnatural smile. This feeling was heightened 
 when Hop Sing slowly rose, and, without a word, pointed 
 with his finger io the centre of the shawl.
 
 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 267 
 
 There was something beneath the shawl ! Surely and 
 something that was not there before. At first a mere sug- 
 gestion in relief, a faint outline, but growing more and 
 more distinct and visible, every moment. The chant still 
 continued, the perspiration began to roll from the singer's 
 face, gradually the hidden object took upon itself a shape 
 and bulk that raised the shawl in its centre some five or six 
 inches. It was now unmistakably the outline of a small 
 but perfect human figure, with extended arms and legs. 
 One or two of us turned pale ; there was a feeling of general 
 uneasiness, until the editor broke the silence by a gibe that, 
 poor as it was, was received with spontaneous enthusiasm. 
 Then the chant suddenly ceased, Wang arose, and, with a 
 quick, dexterous movement, stripped both shawl and silk 
 away, and discovered, sleeping peacefully upon my hand- 
 kerchief, a tiny Chinese baby ! 
 
 The applause and uproar which followed this revelation 
 ought to have satisfied Wang, even if his audience Avas a 
 small one ; it was loud enough to awaken the baby a 
 pretty little boy about a year old, looking like a Cupid cut 
 out of sandalwood. He was whisked away almost as 
 mysteriously as he appeared. When Hop Sing returned 
 my handkerchief to me with a bow, I asked if the juggler 
 was the father of the baby. " No sabe ! " said the imper- 
 turbable Hop Sing, taking refuge in that Spanish form of 
 noncommittalism so common in California. 
 
 " But does he have a new baby for every performance ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " Perhaps ; who knows ? " 
 
 " But what will become of this one ? " 
 
 " Whatever you choose, gentlemen," replied Hop Sing, 
 with a courteous inclination ; " it was born here you 
 are its godfathers." 
 
 There were two characteristic peculiarities of any Cali- 
 foruian assemblage in 1856 : it was quick to take a hint,
 
 268 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 
 
 and generous to the point of prodigality in its response to 
 any charitable appeal. No matter how sordid or avaricious 
 the individual, he could not resist the infection of sympathy. 
 I doubled the points of my handkerchief into a bag, dropped 
 a coin into it, and, without a word, passed it to the judge. 
 He quietly added a twenty-dollar gold-piece, and passed it 
 to the next ; when it was returned to me it contained over 
 a hundred dollars. I knotted the money in the handker- 
 chief, and gave it to Hop Sing. 
 
 " For the baby, from its godfathers." 
 
 " But what name ? " said the judge. There was a run- 
 ning fire of " Erebus," " Nox," " Plutus," " Terra Gotta," 
 " Antaeus," etc., etc. Finally the question was referred to 
 our host. 
 
 " Why not keep his own name," he said quietly, 
 " Wan Lee ? " And he did. 
 
 And thus was Wan Lee, on the night of Friday the 5th 
 of March, 1856, born into this veracious chronicle. 
 
 The last form of the " Northern Star" for the 19th of 
 July, 1865, the only daily paper published in Klamath 
 County, had just gone to press, and at three A. M. I was 
 putting aside my proofs and manuscripts, preparatory to 
 going home, when I discovered a letter lying under some 
 sheets of paper which I must have overlooked. The enve- 
 lope was considerably soiled, it had no postmark, but I had 
 no difficulty in recognizing the hand of my friend Hop 
 Sing. I opened it hurriedly, and read as follows : 
 
 MY DEAR SIK, I do not know whether the bearer 
 will suit you, but unless the office of " devil " in your news- 
 paper is a purely technical one, I think he has all the 
 qualities required. He is very quick, active, and intelli- 
 gent ; understands English better than he speaks it, and 
 makes up for any defect by his habits of observation and
 
 WAX LEE, THE PAGAN 269 
 
 imitation. You have only to show him how to do a thing 
 once, and he will repeat it, whether it is an offense or a 
 virtue. But you certainly know him alread} 7 ; you are one 
 of his godfathers, for is he not Wan Lee, the reputed son of 
 Wang the conjurer, to whose performances I had the honor 
 to introduce you ? But perhaps you have forgotten it. 
 
 I shall send him with a gang of coolies to Stockton, 
 thence by express to your town. If you can use him 
 there, you will do me a favor, and probably save his life, 
 which is at present in great peril from the hands of the 
 younger members of your Christian and highly civilized race 
 who attend the enlightened schools in San Francisco. 
 
 He has acquired some singular habits and customs from 
 his experience of Wang's profession, which he followed for 
 some years, until he became too large to go in a hat, or 
 be produced from his father's sleeve. The money you left 
 with me has been expended on his education ; he has gone 
 through the Tri-literal Classics, but, I think, without much 
 benefit. He knows but little of Confucius, and absolutely 
 nothing of Mencius. Owing to the negligence of his 
 father, he associated, perhaps, too much with American 
 children. 
 
 I should have answered your letter before, by post, but 
 I thought that Wan Lee himself would be a better mes- 
 senger for this. Yours respectfully, 
 
 HOP SING. 
 
 And this was the long-delayed answer to my letter to 
 Hop Sing. But where was " the bearer " ? How was the 
 letter delivered ? I summoned hastily the foreman, printers, 
 and office boy, but without eliciting anything ; no one had 
 oeen the letter delivered, nor knew anything of the bearer. 
 A few days later 'I had a visit from my laundry man, 
 Ah Ri. 
 
 " You wantee debbil ? All lightee ; me catchee him."
 
 270 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 
 
 He returned in a few moments with a bright-looking 
 Chinese boy, about ten years old, with whose appearance 
 and general intelligence I was so greatly impressed that I 
 engaged him on the spot. When the business was con- 
 cluded, I asked his name. 
 
 " Wan Lee," said the boy. 
 
 " What ! Are you the boy sent out by Hop Sing ? 
 What the devil do you mean by not coming here before, 
 and how did you deliver that letter ? " 
 
 Wan Lee looked at me and laughed. " Me pitchee in 
 top side window." 
 
 I did not understand. He looked for a moment per- 
 plexed, and then, snatching the letter out of my hand, ran 
 down the stairs. After a moment's pause, to my great 
 astonishment, the letter came flying in at the window, 
 circled twice around the room, and then dropped gently like 
 a bird upon my table. Before I had got over my surprise 
 Wan Lee reappeared, smiled, looked at the letter and then 
 at me, said, " So, John," and then remained gravely silent. 
 I said nothing further, but it was understood that this was 
 his first official act. 
 
 His next performance, I grieve to say, was not attended 
 with equal success. One of our regular paper-carriers fell 
 sick, and, at a pinch, Wan Lee was ordered to fill his place. 
 To prevent mistakes he was shown over the route the 
 previous evening, and supplied at about daylight with the 
 usual number of subscribers' copies. He returned after an 
 hour, in good spirits and without the papers. He had 
 delivered them all he said. 
 
 Unfortunately for Wan Lee, at about eight o'clock indig- 
 nant subscribers began to arrive at the office. They had 
 received their copies ; but how ? In the form of hard- 
 pressed canndii-balls, delivered by a single shot and a mere 
 tour de force through the glass of bedroom windows. 
 They had received them full in the face, like a baseball,
 
 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 271 
 
 if they happened to be up and stirring ; they had received 
 them in quarter sheets, tucked in at separate windows ; 
 they had found them in the chimney, pinned against the 
 door, shot through attic windows, delivered in long slips 
 through convenient keyholes, stuffed into ventilators, and 
 occupying the same can with the morning's milk. One 
 subscriber, who waited for some time at the office door, to 
 have a personal interview with Wan Lee (then comfortably 
 locked in my bedroom), told me, with tears of rage in his 
 eyes, that he had been awakened at five o'clock by a most 
 hideous yelling below his windows ; that on rising, in great 
 agitation, he was startled by the sudden appearance of the 
 " Northern Star," rolled hard and bent into the form of 
 a boomerang or East Indian club, that sailed into the 
 window, described a number of fiendish circles in the room, 
 knocked over the light, slapped the baby's face, " took " 
 him (the subscriber) " in the jaw," and then returned out 
 of the window, and dropped helplessly in the area. During 
 the rest of the day wads and strips of soiled paper, purport- 
 ing to be copies of the " Northern Star " of that morning's 
 issue, were brought indignantly to the office. An admirable 
 editorial on " The Resources of Humboldt County," which 
 I had constructed the evening before, and which, I have 
 reason to believe, might have changed the whole balance of 
 trade during the ensuing year, and left San Francisco bank- 
 rupt at her wharves, was in this way lost to the public. 
 
 It was deemed advisable for the next three weeks to 
 keep Wan Lee closely confined to the printing-office and 
 the purely mechanical part of the business. Here he 
 developed a surprising quickness and adaptability, winning 
 even the favor and good will of the printers and foreman, 
 who at first looked upon his introduction into the secrets of 
 their trade as fraught with the gravest political significance. 
 He learned to set type readily and neatly, his wonderful 
 skill in manipulation aiding him in the mere mechanical
 
 272 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 
 
 act, and his ignorance of the language confining him simplj 
 to the mechanical effort confirming the printer's axiom 
 that the printer who considers or follows the ideas of his 
 copy makes a poor compositor. He would set up deliber- 
 ately long diatribes against himself, composed by his fellow 
 printers, and hung on his hook as copy, and even such short 
 sentences as " Wan Lee is the devil's own imp," " Wan 
 Lee is a Mongolian rascal," and bring the proof to me with 
 happiness beaming from every tooth and satisfaction shining 
 in his huckleberry eyes. 
 
 It was not long, however, before he learned to retaliate 
 on his mischievous persecutors. I remember one instance 
 in which his reprisal came very near involving me in a 
 serious misunderstanding. Our foreman's name was Web- 
 ster, and Wan Lee presently learned to know and recog- 
 nize the individual and combined letters of his name. It 
 was during a political campaign, and the eloquent and fiery 
 Colonel Starbottle of Siskiyou had delivered an effective 
 speech, which was reported especially for the " Northern 
 Star." In a very sublime peroration Colonel Starbottle 
 had said, " In the language of the godlike Webster, I 
 repeat " and here followed the quotation, which I have 
 forgotten. Now, it chanced that Wan Lee, looking over 
 the galley after it had been revised, saw the name of his 
 chief persecutor, and, of course, imagined the quotation his. 
 After the form was locked up, Wan Lee took advantage 
 of Webster's absence to remove the quotation, and substi- 
 tute a thin piece of lead, of the same size as the type, en- 
 graved with Chinese characters, making a sentence which, 
 I had reason to believe, was an utter and abject confession 
 of the incapacity and offensiveness of the Webster family 
 generally, and exceedingly eulogistic of Wan Lee himself 
 personally. 
 
 The next morning's paper contained Colonel Staibottle's 
 speech in full, in which it appeared that the " godlike*'
 
 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 273 
 
 Webster had on one occasion uttered his thoughts in 
 excellent but perfectly enigmatical Chinese. The rage of 
 Colonel Starbottle knew no bounds. I have a vivid recol- 
 lection of that admirable man walking into my office and 
 demanding a retraction of the statement. 
 
 " But, my dear sir," I asked, " are you willing to deny, 
 over your own signature, that Webster ever uttered such a 
 sentence ? Dare you deny that, with Mr. Webster's well- 
 known attainments, a knowledge of Chinese might not have 
 been among the number ? Are you willing to submit a 
 translation suitable to the capacity of our readers, and deny, 
 upon your honor as a gentleman, that the late Mr. Web- 
 ster ever uttered such a sentiment ? If you are, sir, I am 
 willing to publish your denial." 
 
 The Colonel was not, and left, highly indignant. 
 
 Webster, the foreman, took it more coolly. Happily he 
 was unaware that for two days after, Chinamen from the 
 laundries, from the gulches, from the kitchens, looked in 
 the front office door with faces beaming with sardonic de- 
 light ; that three hundred extra copies of the " Star " were 
 ordered for the wash-houses on the river. He only knew 
 that during the day Wan Lee occasionally went off into 
 convulsive spasms, and that he was obliged to kick him into 
 consciousness again. A week after the occurrence I called 
 Wan Lee into my office. 
 
 " Wan," I said gravely, " I should like you to give 
 me, for my own personal satisfaction, a translation of that 
 Chinese sentence which my gifted countryman, the late 
 godlike Webster, uttered upon a public occasion." Wan 
 Lee looked at me intently, and then the slightest possible 
 twinkle crept into his black eyes. Then he replied, with 
 equal gravity, 
 
 " Mishtel Webstel, he say : ' China boy makee me 
 belly much foolee. China boy makee me heap sick.' " 
 Which I have reason to think was true.
 
 274 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 
 
 But I fear I am giving but one side, and not the best, of 
 Wan Lee's character. As he imparted it to me, his had 
 been a hard life. He had known scarcely any childhood 
 he had no recollection of a father or mother. The conjurer 
 Wang had brought him up. He had spent the first seven 
 years of his life in appearing from baskets, in dropping out 
 of hats, in climbing ladders, in putting his little limbs out 
 of joint in posturing. He had lived in an atmosphere of 
 trickery and deception ; he had learned to look upon man- 
 kind as dupes of their senses ; in fine, if he had thought 
 at all,' he would have been a skeptic ; if he had been a little 
 older, he would have been a cynic ; if he had been older 
 still, he would have been a philosopher. As it was, he was 
 a little imp ! A good-natured imp it was, too, an imp 
 whose moral nature had never been awakened, an imp up 
 for a holiday, and willing to try virtue as a diversion. I 
 don't know that he had any spiritual nature ; he was very 
 supe'rstitious ; he carried about with him a hideous little 
 porcelain god, which he was in the habit of alternately 
 reviling and propitiating. He was too intelligent for the 
 commoner Chinese vices of stealing or gratuitous lying. 
 Whatever discipline he practiced was taught by his intel- 
 lect. 
 
 I am inclined to think that his feelings were not alto- 
 gether unimpressible, although it was almost impossible 
 to extract an expression from him, and I conscientiously 
 believe he became attached to those that were good to him. 
 What he might have become under more favorable con- 
 ditions than the bondsman of an overworked, underpaid 
 literary man, I don't know; I only know that the scant, 
 irregular, impulsive kindnesses that I showed him were 
 gratefully received. He was very loyal and patient two 
 qualities rare in the average American servant. He was 
 like Malvolio, " sad and civil " with me ; only once, and 
 then under great provocation, do I remember of his exhibit-
 
 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 275 
 
 ing any impatience. It was my habit, after leaving the 
 office at night, to take him with me to my rooms, as 
 the bearer of any supplemental or happy afterthought in 
 the editorial way, that might occur to me before the paper 
 went to press. One night I had been scribbling away past 
 the usual hour of dismissing Wan Lee, and had become 
 quite oblivious of his presence in a chair near my door ? 
 when suddenly I became aware of a voice saying, in plain- 
 tive accents, something that sounded like " Chy Lee." 
 
 I faced around sternly. 
 
 " What did you say ? " 
 
 "Me say, 'Chy Lee.'" 
 
 " Well ? " I said impatiently. 
 
 " You sabe, ' How do, John ' ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You sabe, ' So long, John ' ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Well, ' Chy Lee ' allee same ! " 
 
 I understood him quite plainly. It appeared that " Chy 
 Lee " was a form of " good-night," and that Wan Lee was 
 anxious to go home. But an instinct of mischief which I 
 fear I possessed in common with him, impelled me to act as 
 if oblivious of the hint. I muttered something about not 
 understanding him, and again bent over my work. In a 
 few minutes I heard his wooden shoes pattering patheti- 
 cally over the floor. I looked up. He was standing near 
 the door. 
 
 " You no sabe, ' Chy Lee ' ? " 
 
 " No," I said sternly. 
 
 " You sabe mubhee big foolee ! allee same ! " 
 
 And with this audacity upon his lips he fled. The next 
 morning, however, he was as meek and patient as before, 
 and I did not recall his offense. As a probable peace- 
 offering, he blacked all my boots, a duty never required 
 jf him, including a pair of buff deerskin slippers and
 
 276 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 
 
 an immense pair of horseman's jack-Loots, on which he 
 indulged his remorse for two hours. 
 
 I have spoken of his honesty as heing a quality of his 
 intellect rather than his principle, but I recall about this 
 time two exceptions to the rule. I was anxious to get 
 some fresh eggs, as a change to the heavy diet of a mining 
 town, and knowing that Wan Lee's countrymen were great 
 poultry-raisers, I applied to him. He furnished me with 
 them regularly every morning, but refused to take any pay, 
 saying that the man did not sell them, a remarkable 
 instance of self-abnegation, as eggs were then worth half a 
 dollar apiece. One morning, my neighbor, Foster, dropped 
 in upon me at breakfast, and took occasion to bewail his 
 own ill fortune, as his hens had lately stopped laying, or 
 wandered off in the bush. Wan Lee, who was present 
 during our colloquy, preserved his characteristic sad taci- 
 turnity. When my neighbor had gone, he turned to me 
 with a slight chuckle " Flostel's hens Wan Lee's hens 
 allee same!" His other offense was more serious and 
 ambitious. It was a season of great irregularities in the 
 mails, and Wan Lee had heard me deplore the delay in the 
 delivery of my letters and newspapers. On arriving at my 
 office one day, I was amazed to find my table covered with 
 letters, evidently just from the post-office, but unfortunately 
 not one addressed to me. I turned to Wan Lee, who was 
 surveying them with a calm satisfaction, and demanded an 
 explanation. To my horror he pointed to an empty mail- 
 bag in the corner, and said, " Postman he say, ' No lettee, 
 John no lettee, John.' Postman plentee lie ! Postman 
 no good. Me catchee lettee last night allee same ! " 
 Luckily it was still early ; the mails had not been dis- 
 tributed ; I had a hurried interview with the postmaster, 
 and Wan Lee's bold attempt at robbing the U. S. Mail was 
 finally condoned, by the purchase of a new mail-bag, and 
 the whole atfair thus kept a secret.
 
 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 277 
 
 If my liking for my little pagan page had not been suf- 
 ficient, my duty to Hop Sing was enough to cause me to 
 take Wan Lee with me when I returned to San Francisco, 
 after my two years' experience with the " Northern Star." 
 I do not think he contemplated the change with pleasure. 
 I attributed his feelings to a nervous dread of crowded 
 public streets when he had to go across town for me on 
 an errand, he always made a long circuit of the outskirts ; 
 to his dislike for the discipline of the Chinese and English 
 school to which I proposed to send him ; to his fondness 
 for the free, vagrant life of the mines ; to sheer willfulness ! 
 That it might have been a superstitious premonition did 
 not occur to me until long after. 
 
 Nevertheless it really seemed as if the opportunity I had 
 long looked for and confidently expected had come, the 
 opportunity of placing Wan Lee under gently restraining 
 influences, of subjecting him to a life and experience that 
 would draw out of him what good my superficial care and 
 ill-regulated kindness could not reach. Wan Lee was 
 placed at the school of a Chinese missionary, an intel- 
 ligent and kind-hearted clergyman, who had shown great 
 interest in the boy, and who, better than all, had a won- 
 derful faith in him. A home was found for him in the 
 family of a widow, who had a bright and interesting 
 daughter about two years younger than Wan Lee. It 
 was this bright, cheery, innocent, and artless child that 
 touched and reached a depth in the boy's nature that 
 hitherto had been unsuspected that awakened a moral 
 susceptibility which had lain for years insensible alike to 
 the teachings of society or the ethics of the theologian. 
 
 These few brief months, bright with a promise that we 
 never saw fulfilled, must have been happy ones to Wan Lee. 
 He worshiped his little friend with something of the same 
 superstition, but without any of the caprice, that he bestowed 
 upon his porcelain Pagan god. It was his delight to walk
 
 278 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 
 
 behind her to school, carrying her books, a service always 
 fraught with danger to him from the little hands of his 
 Caucasian Christian brothers. He made her the most 
 marvelous toys; he would cut out of carrots and turnips 
 the most astonishing roses and tulips; he made lifelike 
 chickens out of melon-seeds ; he constructed fans and kites, 
 and was singularly proficient in the making of dolls' paper 
 dresses. On the other hand she played and sang to him ; 
 taught him a thousand little prettinesses and refinements 
 only known to girls; gave him a yellow ribbon for his 
 pigtail, as best suiting his complexion ; read to him ; showed 
 him wherein he was original and valuable ; took him to 
 Sunday - school with her, against the precedents of the 
 school, and, small-womanlike, triumphed. I wish I could 
 add here, that she effected his* conversion, and made him 
 give up his porcelain idol, but I am telling a true story, and 
 this little girl was quite content to fill him with her own 
 Christian goodness, without letting him know that he was 
 changed. So they got along very well together this little 
 Christian girl, with her shining cross hanging around her 
 plump, white, little neck, and this dark little Pagan, with 
 his hideous porcelain god hidden away in his blouse. 
 
 There were two days of that eventful year which will 
 long be remembered in San Francisco, two days when a 
 mob of her citizens set upon and killed unarmed, defense- 
 less foreigners, because they were foreigners and of another 
 race, religion, and color, and worked for what wages 
 they could get. There were some public men so timid 
 that, seeing this, they thought that the end of the world 
 had come ; there were some eminent statesmen, whose 
 names I am ashamed to write here, who began to think 
 that the passage in the Constitution which guarantees 
 civil and religious liberty to every citizen or foreigner was 
 a mistake. But there were also some men who were not 
 so =jasily frightened, and in twenty-four hours we had
 
 WAN LEE, THE PAGAN 279 
 
 things so arranged that the timid men could wring theii 
 hands in safety, and the eminent statesmen utter their 
 doubts without hurting anybody or anything. And in the 
 midst of this I got a note from Hop Sing, asking me to 
 come to him immediately. 
 
 I found his warehouse closed and strongly guarded by 
 the police against any possible attack of the rioters. Hop 
 Sing admitted me through a barred grating with his usual 
 imperturbable calm, but, as it seemed to me, with more 
 than his usual seriousness. Without a word he took my 
 hand and led me to the rear of the room, and thence down- 
 stairs into the basement. It was dimly lighted, but there 
 was something lying on the floor covered by a shawl. As 
 I approached, he drew the shawl away with a sudden ges- 
 ture, and revealed Wan Lee, the Pagan, lying there dead ! 
 
 Dead, my reverend friends, dead ! Stoned to death in 
 the streets of San Francisco, in the year of grace, eighteen 
 hundred and sixty-nine, by a mob of half-grown boys and 
 Christian school-children ! 
 
 As I put my hand reverently upon his breast, I felt some- 
 thing, crumbling beneath his blouse. I looked inquiringly 
 at Hop Sing. He put his hand between the folds of silk, 
 and drew out something with the first bitter smile I had 
 ever seen on the face of that Pagan gentleman. 
 
 It was Wan Lee ; s porcelain god, crushed by a stone from 
 the hands of those Christian iconoclasts !
 
 AN HEIKESS OF BED DOG 
 
 THE first intimation given of the eccentricity of the tes- 
 tator was, I think, in the spring of 1854. He was at 
 that time in possession of a considerable property, heavily 
 mortgaged to one friend, and a wife of some attraction, 
 on whose affections another friend held an encumbering 
 lien. One day it was found that he had secretly dug, or 
 caused to be dug, a deep trap before the front door of 
 his dwelling, into which a few friends, in the course of the 
 evening, casually and familiarly dropped. This circum- 
 stance, slight in itself, seemed to point to the existence of 
 a certain humor in the man, which might eventually get 
 into literature, although his wife's lover a man of quick 
 discernment, whose leg was broken by the fall took other 
 views. It was some weeks later that, while dining with 
 certain other friends of his wife, he excused himself from 
 the table to quietly reappear at the front window with a 
 three-quarter-inch hydraulic pipe, and a stream of water 
 projected at the assembled company. An attempt was 
 made to take public cognizance of this, but a majority of 
 the citizens of Red Dog who were not at the dinner, 
 decided that a man had a right to choose his own methods 
 of diverting his company. Nevertheless, there were some 
 hints of his insanity ; his wife recalled other acts clearly 
 attributable to dementia ; the crippled lover argued from 
 his own experience that the integrity of her limbs could 
 only be secured by leaving her husband's house ; and the 
 mortgagee, fearing a further damage to his property, fore- 
 closed. But here the causo of all this anxiety took matters 
 into his own hands, and disappeared.
 
 AN HEIRESS OF KED DOG 281 
 
 When we next heard from him, he had, in some myste- 
 rious way, been relieved alike of his wife and property, and 
 was living alone at Rockville, fifty miles away, and editing 
 a newspaper. But that originality he had displayed when 
 dealing with the problems of his own private life, when 
 applied to politics in the columns of the " Rockville Van- 
 guard " was singularly unsuccessful. An amusing exagger- 
 ation, purporting to be an exact account of the manner in 
 which the opposing candidate had murdered his Chinese 
 laundryman, was, I regret to say, answered only by assault 
 and battery. A gratuitous and purely imaginative descrip- 
 tion of a great religious revival in Calaveras, in which the 
 sheriff of the county a notoriously profane skeptic was 
 alleged to have been the chief exhorter, resulted only in the 
 withdrawal of the county advertising from the paper. In 
 the midst of this practical confusion he suddenly died. It 
 was then discovered, as a crowning proof of his absurdity, 
 that he had left a will, bequeathing his entire effects to a 
 freckle-faced maid servant at the Rockville Hotel. But that 
 absurdity became serious when it was also discovered that 
 among these effects were a thousand shares in the Rising 
 Sun Mining Co., which, a day or two after his demise, and 
 while people were still laughing at his grotesque benefaction, 
 suddenly sprang into opulence and celebrity. Three mil- 
 lions of dollars was roughly estimated as the value of the 
 estate thus wantonly sacrificed ! For it is only fair to state, 
 as a just tribute to the enterprise and energy of that young 
 and thriving settlement, that there was not probably a 
 single citizen who did not feel himself better able to control 
 the deceased humorist's property. Some had expressed a 
 doubt of their ability to support a family ; others had felt 
 perhaps too keenly the deep responsibility resting upon them 
 when chosen from the panel as jurors, and had evaded their 
 public duties ; a few had declined office and a low salary ; 
 but no one shrank from the possibility of having been called 
 upon to assume the functions of Peggy Moffat the heiress.
 
 282 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 
 
 The will was contested. First by the widow, who, it no\r 
 appeared, had never been legally divorced from the deceased ; 
 next by four of his cousins, who awoke, only too late, to a 
 consciousness of his moral and pecuniary worth. But the 
 humble legatee a singularly plain, unpretending, uned- 
 ucated Western girl exhibited a dogged pertinacity in 
 claiming her rights. She rejected all compromises. A 
 rough sense of justice in the community, while doubting 
 her ability to take care of the whole fortune, suggested that 
 she ought to be content with three hundred thousand dol- 
 lars. " She 's bound to throw even that away on some 
 derned skunk of a man, natoorally ; but three millions is 
 too much to give a chap for makin' her onhappy. It 's 
 offering a temptation to cussedness." The only opposing 
 voice to this counsel came from the sardonic lips of Mr. 
 Jack Hamlin. " Suppose," suggested that gentleman, turn- 
 ing abruptly on the speaker, "suppose, when you won 
 twenty thousand dollars of me last Friday night suppose 
 that instead of handing you over the money as I did 
 suppose I 'd got up on my hmd legs and said, ' Look yer, 
 Bill Wethersbee, you 're a damned fool. If I give ye that 
 twenty thousand you '11 throw it away in the first skin game 
 m 'Frisco, and hand it over to the first short card-sharp 
 you '11 meet. There 's a thousand enough for you to 
 fling away take it and get ! ' Suppose what I 'd said to 
 you was the frozen truth, and you 'd know'd it would 
 that have been the square thing to play on you ? " But 
 here Wethersbee quickly pointed out the inefficiency of the 
 comparison by stating that he had won the money fairly 
 with a stake. " And how do you know," demanded Hamlin 
 savagely, bending his black eyes on the astounded casuist, 
 " how do you know that the gal hez n't put down a stake ? " 
 The man stammered an unintelligible reply. The gambler 
 laid his white hand on Wethersbee's shoulder. " Look yer, 
 old man," he said, " every gal stakes her whole pile you
 
 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 283 
 
 can bet your life on that whatever 's her little game. If 
 she took to keerds instead of her feelings if she 'd put up 
 ' chips ' instead o' body and soul, she 'd bust every bank 
 'twixt this and 'Frisco ! You hear me ? " 
 
 Somewhat of this idea was conveyed, I fear not quite 
 as sentimentally, to Peggy Moffat herself. The best legaV 
 wisdom of San Francisco retained by the widow and rela- 
 tives took occasion, in a private interview with Peggy, to 
 point out that she stood in the quasi-criminal attitude of 
 having unlawfully practiced upon the affections of an insane 
 elderly gentleman, with a view of getting possession of his 
 property, and suggested to her that no vestige of her moral 
 character would remain after the trial if she persisted in 
 forcing her claims to that issue. It is said that Peggy, on 
 hearing this, stopped washing the plate she had in her 
 hands, and, twisting the towel around her fingers, fixed her 
 small pale blue eyes at the lawyer. 
 
 " And ez that the kind o' chirpin' the critters keep 
 up?" 
 
 " I regret to say, my dear young lady," responded the 
 lawyer, " that the world is censorious. I must add," he 
 continued, with engaging frankness, "that we professional 
 lawyers are apt to study the opinion of the world and 
 that such will be the theory of our side." 
 
 " Then," said Peggy stoutly, " ez I allow I 've got to go 
 into court to defend my character, I might as well pack 
 in them three millions too." 
 
 There is hearsay evidence that Peg added to this speech 
 a wish and desire to " bust the crust " of her traducers, and, 
 remarking that " that was the kind of hairpin " she was, 
 closed the conversation with an unfortunate accident to the 
 plate, that left a severe contusion on the legal brow of her 
 companion. But this story, popular in the bar-rooms and 
 gulches, lacked confirmation in higher circles. Better au- 
 thenticated was the legend related of an interview with her
 
 284 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 
 
 own lawyer. That gentleman had pointed out to her the 
 advantage of being able to show some reasonable cause for 
 the singular generosity of the testator. 
 
 " Although," he continued, <c the law does not go back 
 of the will for reason or cause for its provisions, it would be 
 a strong point with the judge and jury particularly if the 
 theory of insanity were set up for us to show that the 
 act was logical and natural. Of course you have I speak 
 confidentially, Miss Moffat certain ideas of your own why 
 the late Mr. Byways was so singularly generous to you." 
 
 " No, I have n't," said Peg decidedly. 
 
 "Think again. Had he not expressed -to you you 
 understand that this is confidential between us, although I 
 protest, my dear young lady, that I see no reason why it 
 should not be made public had he not given utterance 
 to sentiments of a nature consistent with some future 
 matrimonial relations ? " But here Miss Peg's large mouth, 
 which had been slowly relaxing over her irregular teeth, 
 stopped him. 
 
 "If you mean he wanted to marry me no ! " 
 
 " I see. But were there any conditions of course you 
 know the law takes no cognizance of any not expressed in 
 the will ; but still, for the sake of mere corroboration of 
 the bequest do you know of any conditions on which he 
 gave you the property ? " 
 
 " You mean, did he want anything in return ? " 
 
 "Exactly, my dear young lady." 
 
 Peg's face on one side turned a deep magenta color, on 
 the other a lighter cherry, while her nose was purple, and 
 her forehead an Indian red. To add to the effect of this 
 awkward and discomposing dramatic exhibition of embar- 
 rassment, she began to wipe her hands on her dress, and 
 sat silent. 
 
 " I understand," said the lawyer hastily. " No matter 
 the conditions were fulfilled."
 
 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 285 
 
 'No," said Peg amazedly ; "how could they be until he 
 was dead ? " 
 
 It was the lawyer's turn to color and grow embarrassed. 
 
 " He did say something, and make some conditions/' con- 
 tinued Peg, with a certain firmness through her awkward- 
 ness ; " but that 's nobody's business but mine and his'n. 
 And it 's no call o' yours or theirs." 
 
 "But, my dear Miss Moffat, if these very conditions 
 were proofs of his right mind, you surely would not object 
 to make them known, if only to enable you to put yourself 
 in a condition to carry them out." 
 
 " But," said Peg cunningly, " 'spose you and the Court 
 did n't think 'em satisfactory ? 'Spose you thought 'em 
 queer? Eh?" 
 
 With this helpless limitation on the part of the defense, 
 the case came to trial. Eve^body remembers it : how for 
 six weeks it was the daily food of Calaveras County ; how 
 for six weeks the intellectual and moral and spiritual com- 
 petency of Mr. James Byways to dispose of his property 
 was discussed with learned and formal obscurity in the 
 Court, and with unlettered and independent prejudice by 
 camp-fires and in bar-rooms. At the end of that time, 
 when it was logicall}' established that at least nine tenths 
 of the population of Calaveras were harmless lunatics, and 
 everybody else's reason seemed to totter on its throne, an 
 exhausted jury succumbed one day to the presence of Peg 
 in the court-room. It was not a prepossessing presence at 
 any time; but the excitement, and an injudicious attempt 
 to ornament herself, brought her defects into a glaring relief 
 that was almost unreal. Every freckle on her face stood 
 out and asserted itself singly ; her pale blue eyes, that gave 
 no indication of her force of character, were weak and 
 wandering, or stared blankly at the judge ; her over-sized 
 head, broad at the base, terminating in the scantiest pos- 
 sible light-colored braid in the middle of her narrow shoul-
 
 286 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 
 
 ders, was as hard and uninteresting as the wooden spheres 
 that topped the railing against which she sat. The jury, 
 who for six weeks had had her described to them by the 
 plaintiffs as an arch, wily enchantress, who had sapped the 
 failing reason of Jim Byways, revolted to a man. There 
 was something so appallingly gratuitous in her plainness, 
 that it was felt that three millions was scarcely a compen- 
 sation for it. " Ef that money was give to her, she earned 
 it sure, boys ; it wasn't no softness of the old man," said 
 the foreman. When the jury retired, it was felt that she 
 had cleared her character. When they reentered the room 
 with their verdict, it was known that she had been awarded 
 three millions damages for its defamation. 
 
 She got the money. But those who had confidently ex- 
 pected to see her squander it were disappointed. On the 
 contrary, it was presently whispered that she was exceed- 
 ingly penurious. That admirable woman, Mrs. Stiver of 
 Red Dog, who accompanied her to San Francisco to assist 
 her in making purchases, was loud in her indignation. 
 " She cares more for two bits 1 than I do for five dollars. 
 She would n't buy anything at the ' City of Paris ' because 
 it was ' too expensive,' and at last rigged herself out, a per- 
 fect guy, at some cheap slop-shops in Market Street. And 
 after all the care Jane and me took of her, giving up our 
 time and experience to her, she never so much as made Jane 
 a single present." Popular opinion, which regarded Mrs 
 Stiver's attention as purely speculative, was not shocked at 
 this unprofitable denouement ; but when Peg refused to give 
 anything to clear the mortgage off the Presbyterian Church, 
 and even declined to take shares in the Union Ditch, con- 
 sidered by many as an equally sacred and safe investment, 
 she began to lose favor. Nevertheless, she seemed to be 
 as regardless of public opinion as she had been before the 
 trial ; took a small house, in which she lived with an old 
 i That is, tweuty-five cents.
 
 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 287 
 
 woman, who had once been a fellow servant, on, apparently, 
 terms of perfect equality, and looked after her money. I 
 wish I could say that she did this discreetly, but the fact 
 is, she blundered. The same dogged persistency she had 
 displayed in claiming her rights was visible in her unsuc- 
 cessful ventures. She sunk two hundred thousand dollars 
 in a worn-out shaft originally projected by the deceased 
 testator. She prolonged the miserable existence of the 
 " Eockville Vanguard " long after it had ceased to interest 
 even its enemies ; she kept the doors of the Kockville 
 Hotel open when its custom had departed ; she lost the 
 cooperation and favor of a fellow capitalist through a trifling 
 misunderstanding in which she was derelict and impeni- 
 tent ; she had three lawsuits on her hands that could have 
 been settled for a trifle. I note these defects to show that 
 she was by no means a heroine. I quote her affair with 
 Jack Folinsbee to show that she was scarcely the average 
 woman. 
 
 That handsome, graceless vagabond had struck the out- 
 skirts of Red Dog in a cyclone of dissipation, which left him 
 a stranded but still rather interesting wreck in a ruinous 
 cabin not far from Peg Moffat's virgin bower. Pale, crip- 
 pled from excesses, with a voice quite tremulous from sym- 
 pathetic emotion more or less, developed by stimulants, he 
 lingered languidly, with much time on his hands, and only 
 a few neighbors. In this fascinating kind of general des- 
 habille of morals, dress, and the emotions, he appeared 
 before Peg Moffat. More than that, he occasionally limped 
 with her through the settlement. The critical eye of Red 
 Dog took in the singular pair, Jack, voluble, suffering, 
 apparently overcome by remorse, conscience, vituperation, 
 and disease ; and Peg, open-mouthed, high-colored, awkward, 
 yet delighted ; and the critical eye of Red Dog, seeing this, 
 winked meaningly at Rockville. No one knew what passed 
 between them. But all observed that one summer day Jack
 
 288 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 
 
 drove down the main street of Red Dog in an open buggy, 
 with the heiress of that town beside him. Jack, albeit a 
 trifle shaky, held the reins with something of his old dash ; 
 and Mistress Peggy, in an enormous bonnet with pearl- 
 colored ribbons, a shade darker than her hair, holding in 
 her short pink-gloved fingers a bouquet of yellow roses, 
 absolutely glowed crimson in distressful gratification over 
 the dashboard. So these two fared on out of the busy 
 settlement, into the woods, against the rosy sunset. Pos- 
 sibly it was not a pretty picture ; nevertheless, as the dim 
 aisles of the solemn pines opened to receive them, miners 
 leaned upon their spades, and mechanics stopped in their 
 toil to look after them. The critical eye of Red Dog, per- 
 haps from the sun, perhaps from the fact that it had itself 
 once been young and dissipated, took on a kindly moisture 
 as it gazed. 
 
 The moon was high when they returned. Those who 
 had waited to congratulate Jack on this near prospect of a 
 favorable change in his fortunes were chagrined to find 
 that, having seen the lady safe home, he had himself de- 
 parted from Red Dog. Nothing was to be gained from 
 Peg, who, on the next day and ensuing days, kept the even 
 tenor of her way, sunk a thousand or two more in unsuc- 
 cessful speculation, and made no change in her habits of 
 personal economy. Weeks passed without any apparent 
 sequel to this romantic idyl. Nothing was known definitely 
 until Jack, a month later, turned up in Sacramento, with a 
 billiard-cue in his hand, and a heart overcharged with 
 indignant emotion. " I don't mind saying to you gentle- 
 men, in confidence," said Jack, to a circle of sympathizing 
 players, "I don't mind telling you regarding this thing, 
 that I was as soft on that freckled-faced, red-eyed, tallow- 
 haired gal as if she 'd been a a an actress. And I 
 don't mind saying, gentlemen, that, as far as I understand 
 women, she was just as soft on me! You kin laugh, but
 
 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 289 
 
 it 's so. One day I took her out buggy -riding, in style, 
 too, and out on the road I offered to do the square thing 
 just as if she 'd been a lady offered to marry her then 
 and there ! And what did she do ? " said Jack with an 
 hysterical laugh. " Why, blank it all ! offered me tiventy- 
 five dollars a week allowance pay to be stopped when 1 
 was n't at home ! " The roar of laughter that greeted this 
 frank confession was broken by a quiet voice asking, "And 
 what did you say ? " " Say ? " screamed Jack. " I just 
 told her to with her money." " They say," continued 
 the quiet voice, " that you asked her for the loan of two 
 hundred and fifty dollars to get you to Sacramento and 
 that you got it." " Who says so?" roared Jack ; "show 
 me the blank liar." There was a dead silence. Then the 
 possessor of the quiet voice, Mr. Jack Hamlin, languidly 
 reached under the table, took the chalk, and rubbing the 
 end of his billiard-cue, began with gentle gravity : " It was 
 an old friend of mine in Sacramento, a man with a wooden 
 leg, a game eye, three fingers on his right hand, and a con- 
 sumptive cough. Being unable naturally to back himself, 
 he leaves things to me. So for the sake of argument," 
 continued Hamlin, suddenly laying down his cue, and fixing 
 his wicked black eyes on the speaker, " say it 's me ! " 
 
 I am afraid that this story, whether truthful or not, did 
 not tend to increase Peg's popularity in a community where 
 recklessness or generosity condoned for the absence of all 
 the other virtues ; and it is possible also that Red Dog was 
 no more free from prejudice than other more civilized but 
 equally disappointed match-makers. Likewise, during the 
 following years, she made several more foolish ventures, and 
 lost heavily. In fact, a feverish desire to increase her store 
 at almost any risk seemed to possess her. At last it was 
 announced that she intended to reopen the infelix Rock- 
 ville Hotel, and keep it herself. Wild as this scheme ap- 
 peared in theory, when put into practical operation there
 
 290 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 
 
 seemed to be some chance of success. Much, doubtless, was 
 owing to her practical knowledge of hotel-keeping, but more 
 to her rigid economy and untiring industry. The mistress 
 of millions, she cooked, washed, waited on table, made the 
 beds, and labored like a common menial. Visitors were 
 attracted by this novel spectacle. The income of the house 
 increased as their respect for the hostess lessened. No 
 anecdote of her avarice was too extravagant for current 
 belief. It was even alleged that she had been known to 
 carry the luggage of guests to their rooms, that she might 
 anticipate the usual porter's gratuity. She denied herself 
 the ordinary necessaries of life. She was poorly clad, she 
 was ill fed but the hotel was making money. 
 
 A few hinted at insanity ; others shook their heads, and 
 said a curse was entailed on the property. It was believed 
 also, from her appearance, that she could not long survive 
 this tax on her energies, and already there was discussion as 
 to the probable final disposition of her property. It was 
 the particular fortune of Mr. Jack Hamlin to be able to set 
 the world right on this and other questions regarding her. 
 
 A stormy December evening had set in when he chanced 
 to be a guest of the Rockville Hotel. He had during the 
 past week been engaged in the prosecution of his noble 
 profession at Red Dog, and had, in the graphic language of 
 a coadjutor, " cleared out the town, except his fare in the 
 pockets of the stage-driver." The Red Dog " Standard " 
 had bewailed his departure in playful obituary verse, begin- 
 ning, " Dear Johnny, thou hast left us," wherein the rhymes 
 " bereft us," and " deplore " carried a vague allusion to 
 "a thousand dollars more." A quiet contentment naturally 
 suffused his personality, and he was more than usually lazy 
 and deliberate in his speech. At midnight, when he was 
 about to retire, he was a little surprised, however, by a tap 
 on his door, followed by the presence of Mistress Peg 
 Moffat, heiress, and landlady of Rockville Hotel.
 
 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 291 
 
 Mr. Hamlin, despite his previous defense of Peg, had no 
 liking for her. His fastidious taste rejected her uncomeli- 
 ness ; his habits of thought and life were all antagonistic to 
 what he had heard of her niggardliness and greed. As she 
 stood there, in a dirty calico wrapper, still redolent with the 
 day's cuisine, crimson with embarrassment and the recent 
 heat of the kitchen range, she certainly was not an alluring 
 apparition. Happily for the lateness of the hour, her lone- 
 liness, and the infelix reputation of the man before her, she 
 was at least a safe one. And I fear the very consciousness 
 of this scarcely relieved her embarrassment. 
 
 " I wanted to say a few words to ye alone, Mr. Hamlin," 
 she began, taking an unoffered seat on the end of his port- 
 manteau, " or I should n't hev intruded. But it 's the only 
 time I can ketch you, or you me, for I'm down in the 
 kitchen from sun-up till now." 
 
 She stopped awkwardly, as if to listen to the wind which 
 was rattling against the windows, and spreading a film of 
 rain against the opaque darkness without. Then, smooth- 
 ing her wrapper over her knees, she remarked, as if opening 
 a desultory conversation, " Thar 's a power of rain out- 
 side." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin's only response to this meteorological obser- 
 vation was a yawn, and a preliminary tug at his coat as he 
 began to remove it. 
 
 " I thought ye could n't mind doin' me a favor," con- 
 tinued Peg, with a hard, awkward laugh ; " partik'ly seein' 
 ez folks allowed you 'd sorter been a friend o' mine, and hed 
 stood up for me at times when you hed n't any partikler call 
 to do it. I hev n't," she continued, looking down on her 
 lap, and following with her finger and thumb a seam of her 
 gown, "I hev n't so many friends ez slings a kind word 
 for me these times that I disremember them." Her under 
 lip quivered a little here, and after vainly hunting for a for- 
 gotten handkerchief, she finally lifted the hem of her gown,
 
 292 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 
 
 wiped her snub nose upon it, but left the tears still in her 
 eyes as she raised them to the man. 
 
 Mr. Hamlin, who had by this time divested himself of 
 his coat, stopped unbuttoning his waistcoat, and looked at 
 her. 
 
 " Like ez not thar '11 be high water on the North Fork, ef 
 this rain keeps on," said Peg, as if apologetically, looking 
 toward the window. 
 
 The other rain having ceased, Mr. Hamlin began to un- 
 button his waistcoat again. 
 
 " I wanted to ask ye a favor about Mr. about Jack 
 Folinsbee," began Peg again, hurriedly. " He 's ailin' agin', 
 and is mighty low. And he 's losin' a heap o' money here 
 and thar, and mostly to you. You cleaned him out of two 
 thousand dollars last night all he had." 
 ' " Well," said the gambler coldly. 
 
 " Well, I thought ez you woz a friend o' mine, I 'd ask ye 
 to let up a little on him," said Peg, with an affected laugh. 
 " You kin do it. Don't let him play with ye." 
 
 " Mistress Margaret Moffat," said Jack, with lazy delibera- 
 tion, taking off his watch and beginning to wind it up ; " ef 
 you 're that much stuck after Jack Folinsbee you kin keep 
 him off of me much easier than I kin. You 're a rich wo- 
 man ! Give him enough money to break my bank, or break 
 himself for good and all ; but don't keep him foolin' round 
 me, in hopes to make a raise. It don't pay, Mistress Moffat, 
 it don't pay ! " 
 
 A finer nature than Peg's would have misunderstood or 
 resented the gambler's slang, and the miserable truths that 
 underlay it. But she comprehended him instantly, and sat 
 hopelessly silent. 
 
 " Ef you '11 take my advice," continued Jack, placing his 
 watch and chain under his pillow, and quietly unloosing his 
 cravat, " you '11 quit this yer foolin', marry that chap, and 
 hand over to him the money and the money-makin' that 's
 
 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 293 
 
 killin' you. He '11 get rid of it soon enough. I don't say 
 this because /expect to git it, for when he 's got that much of 
 a raise, he '1L make a break for 'Frisco, and lose it to some 
 first-class sport there. I don't say neither that you may n't 
 
 be in luck enough to reform him. I don't say neither and 
 
 it 's a derned sight more likely that you may n't be luckier 
 yet and he '11 up and die afore he gits rid of -your money. 
 But I do say you '11 make him happy now ; and ez I reckon 
 you 're about ez badly stuck after that chap ez I ever 
 saw any woman, you won't be hurtin' your own feelin's 
 either ! " 
 
 The blood left Peg's face as she looked up. " But that 's 
 why I can't give him the money and he won't marry me 
 without it." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin's hand dropped from the last button of his 
 waistcoat. " Can't give him the money ? " he 
 repeated slowly. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because because I love him." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin rebuttoned his waistcoat, and sat down 
 patiently on the bed. Peg rose, and awkwardly drew the 
 portmanteau a little bit nearer to him. 
 
 " When Jim Byways left me this yer property," she 
 began, looking cautiously around, " he left it to me on 
 conditions. Not conditions ez was in his written will 
 but conditions ez was spoken. A promise I made him in 
 this very room, Mr. Hamlin, this very room, and on that- 
 very bed you 're sittin' on, in which he died." 
 
 Like most gamblers, Mr. Hamlin was superstitious. He 
 rose hastily from the bed, and took a chair beside the 
 window. The wind shook it as if the discontented spirit of 
 Mr. Byways were without, reinforcing his last injunction. 
 
 " I don't know if you remember him," said Peg feverishly. 
 * He was a man ez hed suffered. All that he loved wife {
 
 294 AN HEIEESS OF RED DOG 
 
 fammerly, friends had gone back on him ! He tried tc 
 make light of it afore folk ; but with me, being a poor gal, 
 he let himself out. I never told anybody this I don't 
 know why he told me I don't know," continued Peg with 
 a sniffle, " why he wanted to make me unhappy too. But 
 he made me promise that if he left me his fortune I 'd never 
 never, so help me, God never share it with any man or 
 woman that I loved ! I did n't think it would he hard to 
 keep that promise then, Mr. Hamlin, for I was very poor, 
 and bed n't a friend nor a living bein' that was kind to me 
 but him." 
 
 " But you 've as good as broken your promise already," 
 said Hamlin ; " you 've given Jack money as I know." 
 
 " Only what I made myself ! Listen to me, Mr. Hamlin. 
 When Jack proposed to me, I offered him about what I kal- 
 kilated I could earn myself. When he went away, and was 
 sick and in trouble, I came here and took this hotel. I knew 
 that by hard work I could make it pay. Don't laugh at me, 
 please. I did work hard, and did make it pay without 
 takin' one cent of the fortin'. And all I made, workin' by 
 night and day, I gave to him. I did, Mr. Hamlin. I ain't 
 so hard to him as you think ; though 1 might be kinder, I 
 know." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin rose, deliberately resumed his coat, watch, 
 hat, and overcoat. When he was completely dressed again, 
 he turned to Peg. 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you 've been givin' all the 
 money you make here to this A 1 first-class cherubim ? " 
 
 " Yes, but he did n't know where I got it. O Mr. Hamlin, 
 he did n't know that ! " 
 
 " Do I understand you that he 's bin bucking agin faro 
 with the money that you raised on hash ? And you makin' 
 the hash?" 
 
 ' But he did n't know that he would n't hev took it ii 
 1 d told him."
 
 AN HEIRESS OF EEL DOG 295 
 
 " No ; he 'd hev died fust ! " said Mr. Hamlin gravely. 
 " Why, he 's that sensitive is Jack Folinsbee that it 
 nearly kills him to take money even of me. But where 
 does this angel reside when he is n't fightin' the tiger, and 
 is, so to speak, visible to the naked eye ? " 
 
 " He he stops here," said Peg, with an awkward 
 blush. 
 
 " I see. Might I ask the number of his room, or should 
 I be a disturbing him in his meditations ? " continued 
 Jack Hamlin with grave politeness. 
 
 " Oh, then you '11 promise ? And you '11 talk to him, 
 and make him promise ? " 
 
 " Of course," said Hamlin quietly. 
 
 " And you '11 remember he 's sick very sick ? His 
 room's No. 44, at the end of the hall. Perhaps I had 
 better go with you ? " 
 "I '11 find it." 
 
 " And you won't be too hard on him ? " 
 
 "I '11 be a father to him," said Hamlin demurely, as he 
 opened the door and stepped into the hall. But he hesi- 
 tated a moment, and then turned and gravely held out his 
 hand. Peg took it timidly ; he did not seem quite in 
 earnest and his black eyes, vainly questioned, indicated 
 nothing. But he shook her hand warmly, and the nert 
 moment was gone. 
 
 He found the room with no difficulty. A faint cough 
 from within, and a querulous protest, answered his knock. 
 Mr. Hamlin entered without further ceremony. A sicken- 
 ing smell of drugs, a palpable flavor of stale dissipation, 
 and the wasted figure of Jack Folinsbee, half dressed, 
 extended upon the bed, greeted him. Mr. Hamlin was, 
 for an instant, startled. There were hollow circles round 
 the sick man's eyes, there was palsy in his trembling limbs, 
 there was dissolution in his feverish breath. 
 
 " What 's up ? " he asked huskily and nervously.
 
 296 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 
 
 " I am ; and I want you to get up too.'' 
 
 " I can't, Jack. I 'm regularly done up." He reached 
 his shaking hand towards a glass half filled with suspicious, 
 pungent-smelling liquid, hut Mr. Haralin stayed it. 
 
 " Do you want to get hack that two thousand dollars you 
 lost ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, get up and marry that woman downstairs." 
 
 Folinsbee laughed half hysterically, half sardonically. 
 
 " She won't give it to me." 
 
 " No, but / will." 
 
 " You ? " 
 
 11 Yes." 
 
 Folinsbee, with an attempt at a reckless laugh, rose, 
 trembling and with difficulty, to his swollen feet. Hamlin 
 eyed him narrowly, and then bade him lie down again. 
 " To-morrow will do," he said, " and then " 
 
 " If I don't " 
 
 " If you don't," responded Hamlin, " why, I '11 just 
 wade in and cut you out ! " 
 
 But on the morrow Mr. Hamlin was spared that pos- 
 sible act of disloyalty. For in the night the already 
 hesitating spirit of Mr. Jack Folinsbee took flight on the 
 wi\7gs of the southeast storm. When or how it happened, 
 nobody knew. Whether this last excitement and the near 
 prospect of matrimony, or whether an over-dose of ano- 
 dyne had hastened his end was never known. I only 
 know that when they came to awaken him the next morn- 
 ing, the best that was left of him a face still beautiful 
 and boylike looked up tearful at the eyes of Peg Moffat. 
 " It serves me right it 's a judgment," she said in a low 
 whisper to Jack Hamlin ; " for God knew that I 'd broken 
 my word and willed all my property to him." 
 
 She did not long survive him. Whether Mr. Hamlin 
 ever clothed with action the suggestion indicated in his
 
 AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG 297 
 
 speech to the lamented Jack that night is not on record. 
 He was always her friend, and on her demise became her 
 executor. But the bulk of her property was left to a dis- 
 tant relation of handsome Jack Folinsbee, and so passed 
 out of the cor trol of Ked Dog forever
 
 THE MAJS O:N THE BEACH 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 HE lived beside a river that emptied into a great ocean. 
 The narrow strip of land that lay between him and the 
 estuary was covered at high tide by a shining film of water, 
 at low tide with the cast-up offerings of sea and shore. Logs 
 yet green, and saplings washed away from inland banks, 
 battered fragments of wrecks and orange crates of bamboo, 
 broken into tiny rafts, yet odorous with their lost freight, 
 lay in long successive curves the fringes and over-lappings 
 of the sea. At high noon the shadow of a sea-gull's wing, 
 or a sudden flurry and gray squall of sandpipers, themselves 
 but shadows, was all that broke the monotonous glare of 
 the level sands. 
 
 He had lived there alone for a twelvemonth. Although 
 but a few miles from a thriving settlement, during that time 
 his retirement had never been intruded upon, his seclusion 
 remained unbroken. In any other community he might 
 have been the subject of rumor or criticism, but the miners 
 at Camp Eogue and the traders at Trinidad Head, themselves 
 individual and eccentric, were profoundly indifferent to all 
 other forms of eccentricity or heterodoxy that did not come 
 in contact with their own. And certainly there was no form 
 of eccentricity less aggressive than that of a hermit, had they 
 chosen to give him that appellation. But they did not 
 even do that, probably from lack of interest or perception. 
 To the various traders who supplied his small wants he was 
 known as "Kernel," "Judge," and "Boss." To the 
 general public " The Man on the Beach " was considered r.
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 299 
 
 sufficiently distinguishing title. His name, his occupation, 
 rank, or antecedents, nobody cared to inquire. Whether 
 this arose from a fear of reciprocal inquiry and interest, or 
 from the profound indifference before referred to, I cannot say. 
 
 He did not look like a hermit. A man yet young, erect, 
 well dressed, clean shaven, with a low voice, and a smile 
 half melancholy, half cynical, was scarcely the conventional 
 idea of a solitary. His dwelling, a rude improvement on a 
 fisherman's cabin, had all the severe exterior simplicity of 
 frontier architecture, but within it was comfortable and 
 wholesome. Three rooms a kitchen, a living-room, and 
 a bedroom were all it contained. 
 
 He had lived there long enough to see the dull monotony 
 of one season lapse into the dull monotony of the other. 
 The bleak northwest trade-winds had brought him mornings 
 of staring sunlight and nights of fog and silence. The 
 warmer southwest trades had brought him clouds, rain, and 
 the transient glories of quick grasses and odorous beach 
 blossoms. But summer or winter, wet or dry season, on 
 one side rose always the sharply defined hills with their 
 changeless background of evergreens ; on the other side 
 stretched always the illimitable ocean, as sharply defined 
 against the horizon and as unchanging in its hue. The 
 onset of spring and autumn tides, some changes among his 
 feathered neighbors, the footprints of certain wild animals 
 along the river's bank, and the hanging out of parti-colored 
 signals from the wooded hillside far inland helped him to 
 record the slow months. On summer afternoons, when the 
 sun sank behind a bank of fog that, moving solemnly shore- 
 ward, at last encompassed him and blotted out sea and sky, 
 his isolation was complete. The damp gray sea that flowed 
 above and around and about him always seemed to shut 
 out an intangible world beyond, and to be the only real 
 presence. The booming of breakers scarce a dozen rods 
 from his dwelling was but a vague and unintelligible sound.
 
 300 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 or the echo of something past forever. Every morning 
 when the sun tore away the misty curtain he awoke, dazed 
 and bewildered, as upon a new world. The first sense of 
 oppression over, he came to love at last this subtle spirit 
 of oblivion ; and at night, when its cloudy wings wei'e folded 
 over his cabin, he would sit alone with a sense of security 
 he had never felt before. On such occasions he was apt 
 to leave his door open, and listen as for footsteps ; for what 
 might not come to him out of this vague, nebulous world 
 beyond ? Perhaps even she ; for this strange solitary was 
 not insane nor visionary. He was never in spirit alone. 
 For night and day, sleeping or waking, pacing the beach 
 or crouching over his driftwood fire, a woman's face was 
 always before him, the face for whose sake and for cause 
 of whom he sat there alone. He saw it in the morning 
 sunlight ; it was her white hands that were lifted from the 
 crested breakers ; it was the rustling of her skirt when the 
 sea -wind swept through the beach - grasses ; it was the 
 loving whisper of her low voice when the long waves sank 
 and died among the sedge and rushes. She was as 
 omnipresent as sea and sky and level sand. Hence, when 
 the fog wiped them away, she seemed to draw closer to 
 him in the darkness. On one or two more gracious nights 
 in midsummer, when the influence of the fervid noonday 
 sun was still felt on the heated sands, the warm breath of 
 the fog touched his cheeks as if it had been hers, and the 
 tears started to his eyes. 
 
 Before the fogs came for he arrived there in winter 
 lie had found surcease and rest in the steady glow of a 
 lighthouse apon the little promontory a league below his 
 habitation. Even on the darkest nights, and in the 
 tumults of storm, it spoke to him of a patience that was 
 enduring and a steadfastness that was immutable. Later 
 on he found a certain dumb companionship in an uprooted 
 tree, which, floating down the river, had stranded Impel ess! v
 
 A WOMAN'S FACE WAS ALWAYS BEFORE HIM
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 301 
 
 upon his beach, but in the evening had again drifted away. 
 Rowing across the estuary a day or two afterward, he 
 recognized the tree again from a " blaze" of the settler's axe 
 still upon its trunk. He was not surprised a week later to 
 find the same tree in the sands before his dwelling, or that 
 the next morning it should be again launched on its pur- 
 poseless wanderings. And so, impelled by wind or tide, 
 but always haunting his seclusion, he would meet it 
 voyaging up the river at the flood, or see it tossing among 
 the breakers on the bar, but always with the confidence of 
 its returning sooner or later to an anchorage beside him. 
 After the third month of his self-imposed exile, he was 
 forced into a more human companionship, that was brief 
 but regular. He was obliged to have menial assistance. 
 While he might have eaten his bread " in sorrow " carelessly 
 and mechanically, if it had been prepared for him, the oc- 
 cupation of cooking his own food brought the vulgarity and 
 materialness of existence so near to his morbid sensitiveness 
 that he could not eat the meal he had himself prepared. 
 He did not yet wish to die, and when starvation or society- 
 seemed to be the only alternative, he chose the latter. An 
 Indian woman, so hideous as to scarcely suggest humanity, 
 at stated times performed for him these offices. When she 
 did not come, which was not infrequent, he did no{ eat. 
 
 Such was the mental and physical condition of The Man 
 on the Beach on January 1, 1869. 
 
 It was a still, bright day, following a week of rain and 
 wind. Low down the horizon still lingered a few white 
 flecks the flying squadrons of the storm as vague as 
 distant sails. Southward the harbor-bar whitened occa- 
 sionally but lazily ; even the turbulent Pacific swell stretched 
 its length wearily upon the shore. And toiling from the 
 settlement over the low sand-dunes, a carriage at last halted 
 half a mile from the solitary's dwelling.
 
 802 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 " I reckon ye '11 hev to git out here," said the driver, 
 pulling up to breathe his panting horses. " Ye can't git 
 any nigher." 
 
 There was a groan of execration from the interior of the 
 vehicle, a hysterical little shriek, and one or two shrill 
 expressions of feminine disapprobation, but the driver 
 moved not. At last a masculine head expostulated from 
 the window : " Look here ; you agreed to take us to the 
 house. Why, it 's a mile away at least ! " 
 
 " Thar, or tharabouts, I reckon," said the driver, coolly 
 crossing his legs on the box. 
 
 " It's no use talking ; /can never walk through this sand 
 and horrid glare," said a female voice quickly and im- 
 peratively. Then, apprehensively, " Well, of all the 
 places ! " 
 
 " Well, I never ! " 
 
 " This does exceed everything." 
 
 " It 's really too idiotic for anything." 
 
 It was noticeable that while the voices betrayed the 
 difference of age and sex, they bore a singular resemblance 
 to each other, and a certain querulousness of pitch that was 
 dominant. 
 
 " I reckon I 've gone about as fur as I allow to go with 
 them bosses," continued the driver suggestively ; " and as 
 time 's vallyble, ye 'd better onload." 
 
 "The wretch does not mean to leave us here alone?" 
 said a female voice in shrill indignation. " You '11 wait for 
 us, driver ? " said a masculine voice confidently. 
 
 " How long ? " asked the driver. 
 
 There was a hurried consultation within. The words 
 " Might send us packing." "May take all night to get him 
 to listen to reason," "Bother! whole thing over in ten 
 minutes," came from the window. The driver meanwhile 
 had settled himself back in his seat, and whistled in patient 
 contempt of a fashionable fare that didn't know its own
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 303 
 
 mind nor destination. Finally, the masculine head was 
 thrust out, and, with a certain potential air of judicially 
 ending a difficulty, said, 
 
 " You 're to follow us slowly, and put up your horses in 
 the stable or barn until we want you." 
 
 An ironical laugh burst from the driver. " Oh yes in 
 the stable or barn in course. But, my eyes sorter failin' 
 me, mebbee, now, some ev you younger folks will kindly 
 pint out the stable or barn of the Kernel's. Woa ! will 
 ye ? woa ! Give me a chance to pick out that there barn 
 or stable to put ye in ! " This in arch confidence to the 
 horses, who had not moved. 
 
 Here the previous speaker, rotund, dignified, and elderly, 
 alighted indignantly, closely followed by the rest of the 
 party, two ladies and a gentleman. One of the ladies was 
 past the age, but not the fashion, of youth, and her Parisian 
 dress clung over her wasted figure and well-bred bones 
 artistically if not gracefully ; the younger lady, evidently 
 her daughter, was crisp and pretty, and carried off the 
 aquiline nose and aristocratic emaciation of her mother with 
 a certain piquancy and a dash that was charming. The 
 gentleman was young, thin, with the family characteristics, 
 but otherwise indistinctive. 
 
 With one accord they all faced directly toward the spot 
 indicated by the driver's whip. Nothing but the bare, 
 bleak, rectangular outlines of the cabin of The Man on the 
 Beach met their eyes. All else was a desolate expanse, 
 unrelieved by any structure higher than the tussocks of scant 
 beach-grass that clothed it. They were so utterly helpless 
 that the driver's derisive laughter gave way at last to good 
 humor and suggestion. " Look yer," he said finally, " I 
 don't know ez it 's your fault you don't know this kentry ez 
 well ez you do Yurup ; so I '11 drag this yer team over to 
 Robinson's on the river, give the horses a bite, and then 
 meander down this yer ridge, and wait for ye. Ye '11 see
 
 3(/4 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 me from the Kernel's." And without waiting for a reply, 
 he swung his horses' heads toward the river, and rolled 
 away. 
 
 The same querulous protest that had come from the 
 windows arose from the group, but vainly. Then followed 
 accusations and recrimination. " It 's your fault ; you 
 might have written, and had him meet us at the settlement." 
 " You wanted to take him hy surprise ! " "I did n't." 
 " You know if I 'd written that we were coming, he 'd have 
 taken good care to run away from us." " Yes, to some 
 more inaccessible place." " There can be none worse than 
 this," etc., etc. But it was so clearly evident that nothing 
 was to be done but to go forward, that even in the midst of 
 their wrangling they straggled on in Indian file toward the 
 distant cabin, sinking ankle-deep in the yielding sand, 
 punctuating their verbal altercation with sighs, and only 
 Abating it at a scream from the elder lady. 
 
 " Where 's Maria ? " 
 
 " Gone on ahead ! " grunted the younger gentleman, in 
 a bass voice, so incongruously large for him that it seemed 
 to have been a ventriloquistic contribution by somebody 
 else. 
 
 It was too true. Maria, after adding her pungency to 
 the general conversation, had darted on ahead. But alas ! 
 that swift Camilla, after scouring the plain some two 
 hundred feet with her demi-train, came to grief on an 
 unbending tussock and sat down, panting but savage. As 
 they plodded wearily toward her, she bit her red lips, 
 smacked them on her cruel little white teeth like a festive 
 and sprightly ghoul, and lisped : 
 
 " You do look so like guys ! For all the world like 
 those English shopkeepers we met on the Righi, doing the 
 three-guinea excursion in their Sunday clothes ! " 
 
 Certainly the spectacle of those exotically plumed bipeds, 
 whose fine feathers were already bedrabbled by sand and
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 305 
 
 growing limp in the sea-breeze, was somewhat dissonant 
 with the rudeness of sea and sky and shore. A few gulls 
 screamed at them ; a loon, startled from the lagoon, arose 
 shrieking and protesting, with painfully extended legs, in 
 obvious burlesque of the younger gentleman. The elder 
 lady felt the justice of her gentle daughter's criticism, and 
 retaliated with simple directness, 
 
 " Your skirt is ruined, your hair is coming down, your 
 hat is half off your head, arid your shoes in Heaven's 
 name, Maria ! what have you done with your shoes ? " 
 
 Maria had exhibited a slim stockinged foot from under 
 her skirt. It was scarcely three fingers broad, with an arch 
 as patrician as her nose. " Somewhere between here and 
 the carriage," she answered. " Dick can run back and find 
 it, while he is looking for your brooch, mamma. Dick 's so 
 obliging." 
 
 The robust voice of Dick thundered, but the wasted 
 figure of Dick feebly ploughed its way back, and returned 
 with the missing buskin. 
 
 " I may as well carry them in my hand like the market 
 girls at Saumur, for we have got to wade soon," said Miss 
 Maria, sinking her own terrors in the delightful contempla- 
 tion of the horror in her parent's face, as she pointed to a 
 shining film of water slowly deepening in a narrow swale in 
 the sands between them and the cabin. 
 
 "It's the tide," said the elder gentleman. "If we 
 intend to go on we must hasten. Permit me, my dear 
 madam " and before she could reply he had lifted the 
 astounded matron in his arms and made gallantly for the 
 ford. The gentle Maria cast an ominous eye on her brother, 
 who, with manifest reluctance, performed for her the same 
 office. But that acute young lady kept her eyes upon the 
 preceding figure of the elder gentleman, and seeing him 
 suddenly and mysteriously disappear to his armpits, unhesi- 
 tatingly threw herself from her brother's protecting arms,
 
 306 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 an action which instantly precipitated him into the water, 
 and paddled hastily to the opposite bank, where she even- 
 tually assisted in pulling the elderly gentleman out of the 
 hollow into which he had fallen, and in rescuing her 
 mother, who floated helplessly on the surface, upheld by 
 her skirts, like a gigantic and variegated water-lily. Dick 
 followed with a single gaiter. In another minute they were 
 safe on the opposite bank. 
 
 The elder lady gave way to tears ; Maria laughed hyster- 
 ically ; Dick mingled a bass oath with the now audible 
 surf ; the elder gentleman, whose florid face the salt water 
 had bleached, and whose dignity seemed to have been 
 washed away, accounted for both by saying he thought it 
 was a quicksand. 
 
 " It might have been," said a quiet voice behind them ; 
 " you should have followed the sand-dunes half a mile 
 farther to the estuary." 
 
 They turned instantly at the voice. It was that of The 
 Man on the Beach. They all rose to their feet and uttered 
 together, save one, the 1 single exclamation, " James ! " 
 The elder gentleman said, " Mr. North," and, with a slight 
 resumption of his former dignity, buttoned his coat over 
 his damp shirt-front. 
 
 There was a silence, in which the Man on the Beach 
 looked gravely down upon them. If they had intended to 
 impress him by any suggestion of a gay, brilliant, and sen- 
 suous world beyond in their own persons, they had failed, 
 and they knew it. Keenly alive as they had always been 
 to external -prepossession, they felt that they looked forlorn 
 and ludicrous, and that the situation lay in his hands. The 
 elderly lady again burst into tears of genuine distress, 
 Maria colored over her cheek-bones, and Dick stared at the 
 ground in sullen disquiet. 
 
 " You had better get up," said The Man on the Beach, 
 niter a moment's thought, " and come up to the cabin. I
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 307 
 
 cannot offer you a change of garments, but you can dry 
 them by the fire." 
 
 They all rose together, and again said in chorus, " James ! " 
 but this time with an evident effort to recall some speech or 
 action previously resolved upon and committed to memory. 
 The elder lady got so far as to clasp her hands, and add ; 
 " You have not forgotten us, James, James ! " the 
 younger gentleman to attempt a brusque " Why, Jim, old 
 boy," that ended in querulous incoherence ; the young 
 lady to cast a half-searching, half-coquettish look at him ; 
 and the old gentleman to begin, " Our desire, Mr. North " 
 
 but the effort was futile. Mr. James North, standing 
 before them with folded arms, looked from the one to the 
 other. 
 
 " I have not thought much of you for a twelvemonth," 
 he said quietly, " but I have not forgotten you. Come ! " 
 
 He led the way a few steps in advance, they following 
 silently: In this brief interview they felt he had resumed 
 the old dominance and independence against which they 
 had rebelled ; more than that, in this half-failure of their 
 first concerted action they had changed their querulous 
 bickerings to a sullen distrust of each other, and walked 
 moodily apart as they followed James North into his house. 
 A fire blazed brightly on the hearth ; a few extra seats were 
 quickly extemporized from boxes and chests, and the elder 
 lady, with the skirt of her dress folded over her knees, 
 looking not unlike an exceedingly overdressed jointed doll, 
 
 dried her flounces and her tears together. Miss Maria 
 took in the scant appointments of the house in one single 
 glance, and then fixed her eyes upon James North, who, 
 the least concerned of the party, stood before them, grave 
 and patiently expectant. 
 
 " Well," began the elder lady in a high key, " after all 
 this worry and trouble you have given us, James, have n't 
 you anything to say ? Do you know have you the least
 
 308 THE MAN ON THE BKACH 
 
 idea what you are doing ? what egregious folly you are com- 
 mitting ? what everybody is saying ? Eh ? Heavens and 
 earth ! do you know who I am ? " 
 
 " You are my father's brother's widow, Aunt Mary," re- 
 turned James quietly. " If I am committing any folly it 
 only concerns myself ; if I cared for what people said I 
 should not be hero ; if I loved society enough to appreciate 
 its good report I should stay with it." 
 
 " But they say you have run away from society to pine 
 alone for a worthless creature a woman who has used you, 
 as she has used and thrown away others a " 
 
 " A woman," chimed in Dick, who had thrown himself 
 on James's bed while his patent leathers were drying, " a 
 woman that all the fellers know never intended " Here, 
 however, he met James North's eye, and, muttering some- 
 thing about " whole thing being too idiotic to talk about," 
 relapsed into silence. 
 
 " You know," continued Mrs. North, " that while we and 
 all our set shut our eyes to your very obvious relations with 
 that woman, and while I myself often spoke of it to others 
 as a simple flirtation, and averted a scandal for your sake, 
 and when the climax was reached, and she herself gave you 
 an opportunity to sever your relations, and nobody need 
 have been wiser and she 'd have had all the blame and 
 it 's only what she 's accustomed to you you ! you, 
 James North ! you must nonsensically go, and, by this 
 extravagant piece of idiocy and sentimental tomfoolery, let 
 everybody see how serious the whole affair was, and how 
 deep it hurt you ! and here in this awful place alone 
 where you 're half drowned to get to it, and are willing to 
 be wholly drowned to get away ! Oh, don't talk to me.' 
 ! won't hear it it 's just too idiotic for anything ! " 
 
 The subject of this outburst neither spoke nor moved a 
 single muscle. 
 
 " Your aunt, Mr. North, speaks excitedly," said the elder
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEAOH 309 
 
 gentleman ; " yet I think she does not overestimate the 
 unfortunate position in which your odd fancy places you. 
 I know nothing of the reasons that have impelled you to 
 this step ; I only know that the popular opinion is that the 
 cause is utterly inadequate. You are still young, with a 
 future hefore you. I need not say how your present con- 
 duct may imperil that. If you expected to achieve any 
 good even to your own satisfaction by this conduct " 
 
 " Yes if there was anything to be gained by it ! " 
 broke in Mrs. North. 
 
 " If you ever thought she 'd come back ! but that kind 
 of woman don't. They must have change. Why " be- 
 gan Dick suddenly, and as suddenly lying down again. 
 
 " Is this all you have come to say ? " asked James North, 
 after a moment's patient silence, looking from one to the 
 other. 
 
 " All ! " screamed Mrs, North ; " is it not enough ? " 
 
 " Not to change my mind nor my residence at present," 
 replied North coolly. 
 
 " Do you mean to continue this folly all your life ? " 
 
 " And have a coroner's inquest, and advertisements and 
 all the facts in the papers ? " 
 
 " And have her read the melancholy details, and know 
 that you were faithful and she was not ? " 
 
 This last shot was from the gentle Maria, who bit her 
 lips as it glanced from the immovable man. 
 
 " I believe there is nothing more to say," continued 
 North quietly. " I am willing to believe your intentions 
 are as worthy as your zeal. . Let us say no more," he added 
 with grave weariness ; " the tide is rising, and your coach- 
 man is signaling you from the bank." 
 
 There was no mistaking the unshaken positiveness of the 
 man, which Avas all the more noticeable from its gentle but 
 utter indifference to the wishes of the party. He turned 
 his back upon them as they gathered hurriedly around the
 
 310 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 elder gentleman, while the words, " He cannot be in hit 
 right mind," " It 's your duty to do it," " It '& sheer insan 
 ity," " Look at his eye ! " all fell unconsciously upon his 
 ear. 
 
 " One word more, Mr. North," said the elder gentleman 
 a little portentously, to conceal an evident embarrassment. 
 " It may be that your conduct might suggest to minds more 
 practical than your own the existence of some aberration of 
 the intellect some temporary mania that might force 
 your best friends into a quasi-legal attitude of " 
 
 " Declaring me insane," interrupted James North, with 
 the slight impatience of a man more anxious to end a pro- 
 lix interview than to combat an argument. " I think dif- 
 ferently. As my aunt's lawyer, you know that within the 
 last year I have deeded most of my property to her and her 
 family. I cannot believe that so shrewd an adviser as Mr. 
 Edmund Carter would ever permit proceedings that would 
 invalidate that conveyance." 
 
 Maria burst into a laugh of such wicked gratification that 
 James North, for the first time, raised his eyes with some- 
 thing of interest to her face. She colored under them, 
 but returned his glance with another like a bayonet flash. 
 The party slowly moved toward the door, James North 
 following. 
 
 " Then this is your final answer ? " asked Mrs. North, 
 stopping imperiously on the threshold. 
 
 " 1 beg your pardon ? " queried North, half abstractedly. 
 
 " Your final answer ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly." 
 
 Mrs. North flounced away a dozen rods in rage. This 
 was unfortunate for North. It gave them the final attack 
 in detail. Dick began : " Come along ! You know you 
 can advertise for her with a personal down there, and the 
 old woman would n't object as long as you were careful and 
 put in an appearance now and then ! "
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 31J 
 
 As Dick limped away, Mr. Carter thought, in confidence, 
 that the whole matter even to suit Mr. North's sensitive 
 nature might be settled there. " She evidently expects 
 you to return. My opinion is that she never left San 
 Francisco. You can't tell anything about these women." 
 
 With this last sentence on his indifferent ear, James 
 North seemed to be left free. Maria had rejoined her 
 mother ; but as they crossed the ford, and an intervening 
 sand-hill hid the others from sight, that piquant young lady 
 suddenly appeared on the hill and stood before him. 
 
 " And you 're not coming back ? " she said directly. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Never ? " 
 
 "I cannot say." 
 
 " Tell me ! what is there about some women to makt> 
 men love them so ? " 
 
 " Love," replied North quietly. 
 
 " No, it cannot be it is not that ! " 
 
 North looked over the hill and round the hill, and looked 
 bored. 
 
 " Oh, I 'm going now. But one moment, Jim ! I did n't 
 want to come. They dragged me here. Good-by." She 
 raised a burning face and eyes to his. He leaned forward 
 and imprinted the perfunctory, cousinly kiss of the period 
 upon her cheek. 
 
 " Not that way," she said angrily, clutching his wrists 
 with her long, thin fingers ; " you sha'n't kiss me in that 
 way, James North." 
 
 With the faintest, ghost-like passing of a twinkle in the 
 corners of his sad eyes, he touched his lips to hers. With 
 the contact, she caught him round the neck, pressed her 
 burning lips and face to his forehead, his cheeks, the very 
 curves of his chin and throat, and with a laugh was 
 gone.
 
 312 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Had the kinsfolk of James North any hope that their 
 visit might revive some lingering desire he still combated 
 to enter once more the world they represented, that hope 
 would have soon died. Whatever effect this episode had 
 upon the solitary and he had become so self-indulgent of 
 his sorrow, and so careless of all that came between him 
 and it, as to meet opposition with profound indifference 
 the only appreciable result was a greater attraction for the 
 solitude that protected him, and he grew even to love the 
 bleak shore and barren sands that had proved so inhospit- 
 able to others. There was a new meaning to the roar of 
 the surges, an honest, loyal sturdiness in the unchanging 
 persistency of the uncouth and blustering trade-winds, and 
 a rmite fidelity in the shining sands, treacherous to all but 
 him. With such bandogs to lie in wait for trespassers, 
 should he not be grateful ? 
 
 If no bitterness was awakened by the repeated avowal of 
 the unfaithfulness of the woman he loved, it was because he 
 had always made the observation and experience of others 
 give way to the dominance oi his own insight. No array of 
 contradictory facts ever shook his belief or unbelief ; like 
 all egotists, he accepted them as truths controlled by a larger 
 truth of which he alone was cognizant. His simplicity, 
 which was but another form of his egotism, was so complete 
 as to baffle ordinary malicious cunning, and so he was 
 spared the experience and knowledge that come to a lower 
 nature, and help to debase it. 
 
 Exercise and the stimulus of the few wants that sent him 
 hunting or fishing kept up his physical health. Never a 
 lover of rude freedom or outdoor life, his sedentary predi- 
 lections and nice tastes kept him from lapsing into barbarian 
 ; never a sportsman, he followed the chase with no
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 313 
 
 feverish exultation. Even dumb creatures found out his 
 secret, and at times, stalking moodily over the upland, the 
 brown deer and elk would cross his path without fear or 
 molestation, or, idly lounging in his canoe within fche river- 
 bar, flocks of wild fowl would settle within stroke of his 
 listless oar. And so the second winter of his hermitage 
 drew near its close, and with it came a storm that passed 
 into local history, and is still remembered. It uprooted 
 giant trees along the river, and with them the tiny rootlets 
 of the life he was idly fostering. 
 
 The morning had been fitfully turbulent, the wind veer- 
 ing several points south and west, with suspicious lulls, 
 unlike the steady onset of the regular southwest trades. 
 High overhead the long manes of racing cirro - stratus 
 streamed with flying gulls and hurrying water-fowl ; plover 
 piped incessantly, and a flock of timorous sandpipers sought 
 the low ridge of his cabin, while a wrecking crew of curlew 
 hastily manned the uprooted tree that tossed wearily beyond 
 the bar. By noon the flying clouds huddled together in 
 masses, and then were suddenly exploded in one vast opaque 
 sheet over the heavens. The sea became gray, and sud- 
 denly wrinkled and old. There was a dumb, half-articulate 
 cry in the air rather a confusion of many sounds, as of 
 the booming of distant guns, the clangor of a bell, the 
 trampling of many waves, the creaking of timbers and 
 soughing of leaves, that sank and fell ere you could yet 
 distinguish them. And then it came on to blow. For two 
 hours it blew strongly. At the time the sun should have 
 set, the wind had increased ; in fifteen minutes darkness 
 shut down even the white sands lost their outlines, and . 
 sea and shore and sky lay in the grip of a relentless and ag- 
 gressive power. 
 
 Within his cabin, by the leaping light of his gusty fire, 
 North sat alone. His first curiosity passed, the turmoil 
 without no longer carried his thought beyond its one con-
 
 314 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 verging centre. She had come to him on the wings of the 
 storm, even as she had heen borne to him on the summer 
 fog-cloud. Now and then the wind shook the cabin, but 
 he heeded it not. He had no fears for its safety ; it pre- 
 sented its low gable to the full fury of the wind that year 
 by year had piled, and was even now piling, protecting 
 buttresses of sand against it. With each succeeding gust it 
 seemed to nestle more closely to its foundations in the 
 whirl of flying sand that rattled against its roof and win- 
 dows. It was nearly midnight when a sudden thought 
 brought him to his feet. What if she were exposed to the 
 fury of such a night as this ? What could he do to help 
 her ? Perhaps even now, as he sat there idle, she Hark ! 
 was not that a gun No ? Yes, surely ! 
 
 He hurriedly unbolted the door, but the strength of the 
 wind and the impact of drifted sand resisted his efforts. 
 With a new and feverish strength possessing him he forced 
 it open wide enough to permit his egress, when the wind 
 caught him as a feather, rolled him over and over, and then, 
 grappling him again, held him down hard and fast against 
 the drift. Unharmed, but unable to move, he lay there, 
 hearing the multitudinous roar of the storm, but unable to 
 distinguish one familiar sound in the savage medley. At 
 last he managed to crawl flat on his face to the cabin, and, 
 refastening the door, threw himself upon his bed. 
 
 He was awakened from a fitful dream of his cousin 
 Maria. She with a supernatural strength seemed to be 
 holding the door rtgHinwt some unseen, unknown power that 
 moaned and strove without, and threw itself in despairing 
 force against the cabin, lie coul.l sec the lithe undulations 
 of her form as she alternately yielded to its power, and 
 again drew the door against it, coiling herself around the 
 log-hewn doorpost with a hideous, snake-like suggestion. 
 And then a struggle and a heavy blow, which shook the 
 very foundations of the structure, awoke him. He leaped
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 315 
 
 to his feet, and into an inch of water ! By the nickering 
 firelight he could see it oozing and dripping from the 
 crevices of the logs and broadening into a pool hy the 
 chimney. A scrap of paper torn from an envelope was 
 floating idly on its current. Was it the overflow of the 
 hacked-up waters of the river ? He was not left long in 
 doubt. Another blow upon the gable of the house, and a 
 torrent of spray leaped down' the chimney, scattered the 
 embers far and wide, and left him in utter darkness. Some 
 of the spray clung to his lips ; it was salt. The great 
 ocean had beaten down the river-bar and was upon him ! 
 
 Was there aught to fly to ? No ! The cabin stood 
 upon the highest point of the sand-spit, and the low swale 
 on one side crossed by his late visitors was a seething mass 
 of breakers, while the estuary behind him was now the 
 ocean itself. There was nothing to do but to wait. 
 
 The very helplessness of his situation was, to a man of 
 his peculiar temperament, an element of patient strength. 
 The instinct of self-preservation was still strong in him, but 
 he had no fear of death, nor, indeed, any presentiment of it ; 
 yet if it came, it was an, easy solution of the problem that 
 had been troubling him, and it wiped off the slate ! He 
 thought of the sarcastic prediction of his cousin, and death 
 in the form that threatened him was the obliteration of his 
 home and even the ground upon which it stood. There 
 would be nothing to record ; no stain could come upon the 
 living. The instinct that kept him true to her would tell 
 her .how he died ; if it did not, it was equally well. And 
 with this simple fatalism, his only belief, this strange man 
 groped his way to his bed, lay down, and in a few moments 
 was asleep. The storm still roared without. Once again 
 the surges leaped against the cabin, but it was evident that 
 the wind was abating with the tide. 
 
 When he awoke it was high noon, and the sun was shining 
 brightly. For some time he lay in a delicious languor,
 
 816 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 doubting if he was alive or dead, but feeling through every 
 nerve and fibre an exquisite sense of peace a rest he had 
 not known since his boyhood a relief he scarcely knew 
 from what. He felt that he was smiling, and yet his pillow 
 was wet with the tears that glittered still on his lashes. The 
 sand blocking up his doorway, he leaped lightly from his 
 window. A few clouds were still sailing slowly in the 
 heavens, the trailing plumes of a great benediction that 
 lay oil sea and shore. He scarcely recognized the familiar 
 landscape ; a new bar had been formed in the river, and a 
 narrow causeway of sand that crossed the lagoon and marshes 
 to the river-bank and the upland trail seemed to bring him 
 nearer to humanity again. He was conscious of a fresh, 
 childlike delight in all this, and when, a moment later, he 
 saw the old uprooted tree, now apparently forever moored 
 and imbedded in the sand beside his cabin, he ran to it 
 with a sense of joy. 
 
 Its trailing roots were festooned with clinging seaweed 
 and the long, snaky, undulating stems of the sea-turnip ; 
 and fixed between two crossing roots was a bamboo orange 
 crate, almost intact. As he walked toward it he heard a 
 strange cry, unlike anything the barren sands had borne 
 before. Thinking it might be some strange sea-bird caught 
 in the meshes of the seaweed, he ran to the crate and looked 
 within. It was half filled with sea-moss and feathery algae. 
 The cry was repeated. He brushed aside the weeds with 
 his hands. It was not a wounded sea-bird, but a living 
 human child ! 
 
 As he lifted it from its damp enwrappings he saw that it 
 was an infant eight or nine months old. How and when it 
 had been brought there, or what force had guided that elfish 
 cradle to his very door, he could not determine ; but it 
 must have been left early, for it was quite warm, and its 
 clothing almost dried by the blazing morning sun. Tc 
 wrap his coat about it, to run to his cabin with it, to start
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 317 
 
 out again with the appalling conviction that nothing could 
 he done for it there* occupied some moments. His nearest 
 neighbor was Trinidad Joe, a " logger," three miles up the 
 river. He remembered to have heard vaguely that he was 
 a man of family. To half strangle the child with a few 
 drops from his whiskey flask, to extricate his canoe from the 
 marsh, and strike out into the river with his waif, was at 
 least to do something. In half an hour he had reached the 
 straggling cabin and sheds of Trinidad Joe, and from the few 
 scanty flowers that mingled with the brushwood fence, and 
 a surplus of linen fluttering on the line, he knew that his sur- 
 mise as to Trinidad Joe's domestic establishment was correct. 
 
 The door at which he knocked opened upon a neat, 
 plainly furnished room, and the figure of a buxom woman 
 of twenty-five. With an awkwardness new to him, North 
 stammered out the circumstances of his finding the infant, 
 and the object of his visit. Before he had finished, the 
 woman by some feminine trick had taken the child from 
 his hands ere he knew it ; and when he paused, out of 
 breath, burst into a fit of laughter. North tried to laugh, 
 too, but failed. 
 
 When the woman had wiped the tears from a pair of 
 very frank blue eyes, and hidden two rows of very strong 
 white teeth again, she said : 
 
 " Look yar ! You 're that looney sort o' chap that lives 
 alone over on the spit yonder, ain't ye ? " 
 
 North hastened to admit all that the statement might 
 imply. 
 
 " And so ye 've had a baby left ye to keep you company ? 
 Lordy ! " Here she looked as if dangerously near a relapse, 
 and then added, as if in explanation of her conduct, 
 
 " When I saw ye paddlin' down here you thet ez shy 
 as elk in summer I sez, ' He 's sick.' But a baby 
 Lordy ! " 
 
 For a moment North almost hated her. A woman who,
 
 318 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 in this pathetic, perhaps almost tragic, picture saw only a 
 ludicrous image, and that image himself, was of another 
 race than he had ever mingled with. Profoundly indifferent 
 as he had always been to the criticism of his equals in 
 station, the mischievous laughter of this illiterate woman 
 jarred upon him worse than his cousin's sarcasm. It was 
 with a little dignity that he pointed out the fact that at 
 present the child needed nourishment. " It 's very young/' 
 he added. " I 'm afraid it wants its natural nourishment." 
 
 " Whar is it to get it ? " asked the woman. 
 
 James North hesitated, and looked around. There 
 should be a baby somewhere ! there must be a baby some- 
 where ! " I thought that you, 1 ' he stammered, conscious of 
 an awkward coloring r " I that is I " He stopped 
 short, for she was already cramming her apron into her 
 mouth, too late, however, to stop the laugh that overflowed 
 it. When she found her breath again, she said, 
 
 "Look yar ! I don't wonder they said you was looney ! 
 I 'm Trinidad Joe's onmarried darter, and the only woman 
 in this house. Any fool could have told you that. Now, 
 ef you can rig us up a baby out o' them facts, I 'd like to 
 see it done." 
 
 Inwardly furious but outwardly polite, James North 
 begged her pardon, deplored his ignorance, and, with a 
 courtly bow, made a movement to take the child. But the 
 woman as quickly drew it away. 
 
 "Not much," she said hastily. "What! trust that poor 
 critter to you ? No, sir ! Thar 's more ways of feeding a 
 baby, young man, than you knows on, with all your ' nat'ral 
 nourishment.' But it looks kinder logy and stupid." 
 
 North freezingly admitted that he had given the infant 
 whiskey as a stimulant. 
 
 " You did ? Come, now, that ain't so looney after all. 
 Well, I '11 take the baby, and when dad comes home we '\J 
 Bee what can be done."
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 319 
 
 North hesitated. His dislike of the woman was intense, 
 and yet he knew no one else, and the baby needed instant 
 care. Besides, he began to see the ludicrousness of his 
 making a first call on his neighbors with a foundling to 
 dispose of. She saw his hesitation, and said, 
 
 " Ye don't know me, in course. Well, I 'm Bessy Rob- 
 inson, Trinidad Joe Robinson's daughter. I reckon dad 
 will give me a character if you want references, or any of 
 the boys on the river." 
 
 " I 'm only thinking of the trouble I 'm giving you, Miss 
 Eobinson, I assure you. Any expense you may incur " 
 
 " Young man," said Bessy Robinson, turning sharply on 
 her heel, and facing him with her black brows a little con- 
 tracted, " if it comes to expenses, I reckon I '11 pay you for 
 that baby, or not take it at all. But I don't know you 
 well enough to quarrel with you on sight. So leave the 
 child to me, and if you choose, paddle down here to-morrow, 
 after sun-up, the ride will do you good, and see it, and 
 dad thrown in. Good-by ! " and with one powerful but 
 well-shaped arm thrown around the child, and the other 
 crooked at the dimpled elbow a little aggressively, she 
 swept by James North and entered a bedroom, closing the 
 door behind her. 
 
 When Mr. James North reached his cabin it was dark. 
 As he rebuilt his fire, and tried to rearrange the scattered 
 and disordered furniture, and remove the debris of last 
 night's storm, he was conscious for the first time of feeling 
 lonely. He did not miss the child. Beyond the instincts 
 of humanity and duty he had really no interest in its wel- 
 fare or future. He was rather glad to get rid of it he 
 would have preferred to some one else ; and yet she looked 
 as if she were competent. And then came the reflection 
 that since the morning he had not once thought of the 
 woman he loved. The like had never occurred in his 
 twelvemonth's solitude. So he set to work, thinking of
 
 320 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 her and of his sorrows, until the word " looney," in con- 
 nection with his suffeiing, flashed across his memory 
 " Looney " ! It was not a nice word. It suggested some 
 thing less than insanity ; something that might happen to 
 a common, unintellectual sort of person. He remembered 
 the loon, an ungainly feathered neighbor, that was popu- 
 larly supposed to have lent its name to the adjective. 
 Could it be possible that people looked upon him as one 
 too hopelessly and uninterestingly afflicted for sympathy or 
 companionship, too unimportant and common for even 
 ridicule ; or was this but the coarse interpretation of that 
 vulgar girl ? 
 
 Nevertheless, the next morning " after sun-up " James 
 North was at Trinidad Joe's cabin. That worthy proprie- 
 tor himself a long, lank man, with even more than the 
 ordinary rural Western characteristics of ill health, ill feed- 
 ing, and melancholy met him on the bank, clothed in a 
 manner and costume that was a singular combination of the 
 frontiersman and the sailor. When North had again related 
 the story of his finding the child, Trinidad Joe pondered. 
 
 " It mout hev been stowed away in one of them crates 
 for safe-keeping," he said musingly, " and washed off the 
 deck o' one o' them Tahiti brigs goin' down fer oranges. 
 Leastways, it never got thar from these parts." 
 
 " But it 's a miracle its life was saved at all. It must 
 have been some hours in the water." 
 
 " Them brigs lays their course well inshore, and it was 
 just mebbee a toss up if the vessel clawed off the reef at 
 all ! And ez to the child keepin' up, why, dog my skin ! 
 that's just the contrariness o' things," continued Joe, in 
 sententious cynicism. " Ef an able seaman had fallen 
 from the yard-arm that night he 'd been sunk in sight o' 
 the ship ; and thet baby ez can't swim a stroke sails ashore 
 sound asleep, with the waves for a baby-jumper." 
 
 North, who was half relieved, yet half awkwardly dis-
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 321 
 
 appointed at not seeing Bessy, ventured to ask how the 
 child was doing. 
 
 " She '11 do all right now," said a frank voice above, 
 and, looking up, North discerned the round arms, blue eyes, 
 and white teeth of the daughter at the window. " She 's 
 all hunkey, and has an appetite ef she hez n't got her 
 'nat'ral nourishment.' Come, dad! heave ahead, and tell 
 the stranger what you and me allow we '11 do, and don't 
 stand there swappin' lies with him." 
 
 " Weel," said Trinidad Joe dejectedly, " Bess allows she 
 can rar that baby and do justice to it. And I don't say 
 though I 'm her father that she can't. But when Bess 
 wants anything she wants it all, clean down ; no half ways 
 nor leavin's for her." 
 
 " That's me ! go on, dad you 're chippin' in the same 
 notch every time," said Miss Robinson with cheerful direct- 
 ness. 
 
 " Well, we agree to put the job up this way. We '11 take 
 the child and you '11 give us a paper or writin' makin' over 
 all your right and title. How 's that ? " 
 
 Without knowing exactly why he did, Mr. North objected 
 decidedly. 
 
 " Do you think we won't take good care of it ? " asked 
 Miss Bessy sharply. 
 
 " That is not the question," said North a little hotly. 
 " In the first place, the child is not mine to give. It has 
 fallen into my hands as a trust the first hands that 
 received it from its parents. I do not think it right to 
 allow any other hands to come between theirs and mine." 
 
 Miss Bessy left the window. In another moment she 
 appeared from the house, and, walking directly toward 
 North, held out a somewhat substantial hand. " Good ! " 
 she said, as she gave his fingers an honest squeeze. " You 
 ain't so looney after all. Dad, he 's right ! He sha'n't gin 
 it UD, but we '11 go halves in it, he and me. He '11 be
 
 322 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 father and I '11 be mother till death do as part, or the 
 reg'lar family turns up. Well what do you say ? " 
 
 More pleased than he dared confess to himself with 
 the praise of- this common girl, Mr. James North assented. 
 Then would he see the baby ? He would, and Trinidad 
 Joe, having already seen the baby, and talked of the baby, 
 and felt the baby, and indeed had the baby offered to him 
 in every way during the past night, concluded to give some 
 of his valuable time to logging, and left them together. 
 
 Mr. North was obliged to admit that the baby was thriv- 
 ing. He, moreover, listened with polite interest to the 
 statement that the baby's eyes were hazel, like his own ; 
 that it had five teeth ; that she was, for a girl of that 
 probable age, a robust child ; and yet Mr. North lingered ? 
 Finally, with his hand on the door-lock, he turned to Bess^ 
 and said, 
 
 " May I ask you an odd question, Miss Robinson ? " 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 " Why did you think I was < looney ' ? " 
 
 The frank Miss Robinson bent her head over the baby, 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Yes, why ? " 
 
 " Because you were looney." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " But " 
 
 y es "_ 
 
 " You '11 get over it." 
 
 And under the shallow pretext of getting the baby's 
 food, she retired to the kitchen, where Mr. North had the 
 supreme satisfaction of seeing her, as he passed the window, 
 sitting on a chair with her apron over her head, shaking 
 with laughter. 
 
 For the next two or three days he did not visit tha 
 Robinsons, but gave himself up to past memories. On 
 the third day he had it must be confessed not without
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 323 
 
 some effort brought himself into that condition of patient 
 sorrow which had been his habit. The episode of the 
 storm and the finding of the baby began to fade, as had 
 faded the visit of his relatives. It had been a dull wet 
 day, and he was sitting by his fire, when there came a tap 
 at his door. " Flora," by which juvenescent name his 
 aged Indian handmaid was known, usually announced her 
 presence with an imitation of a curlew's cry : it could not 
 be she. He fancied he heard the trailing of a woman's 
 dress against the boards, and started to his feet, deathly 
 pale, with a name upon his lips. But the door was impa- 
 tiently thrown open, and showed Bessy Robinson ! and 
 the baby ! 
 
 "With a feeling of relief he could not understand, he 
 offered her a seat. She turned .her frank eyes on him 
 curiously. 
 
 " You look skeert ! " 
 
 " I was startled. You know I see nobody here ! " 
 
 " Thet's so. But look yar, do you ever use a doctor ? " 
 
 Not clearly understanding her, he in turn asked, 
 "Why?" 
 
 " 'Cause you must rise up and get one now thet 's why. 
 This yer baby of ours is sick. We don't use a doctor at 
 our hotise. we don't beleeve in 'em, hain't no call for 'em, 
 but this yer baby's parents mebbee did. So rise up out 
 o' that cheer, and get one." 
 
 James North looked at Miss Robinson and rose, albeit a 
 little in doubt, and hesitating. 
 
 Miss Robinson saw it. "I shouldn't hev troubled ye, 
 nor ridden three mile to do it, if ther bed been any one 
 else to send. But dad 's over at Eureka, buying logs, and 
 I 'm alone. Hello wher' yer goin' ? " 
 
 North had seized his hat, and opened the door. "For a 
 doctor," he replied amazedly. 
 
 " Did ye kalkilate to walk six miles and back ? "
 
 824 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 " Certainly I have no horse." 
 
 " But / have, and you '11 find her tethered outside. She 
 ain't much to look at, but when you strike the trail she '11 
 go." 
 
 " But you how will you return ? " 
 
 " Well," said Miss Robinson, drawing her chair to the 
 fire, taking off her hat and shawl, and warming her knees 
 by the blaze ; " I did n't reckon to return. You '11 find 
 me here when you come back with the doctor. Go ! 
 Skedaddle quick." 
 
 She did not have to repeat the command. In another 
 instant James North was in Miss Bessy's seat, - a man's 
 dragoon saddle, and pounding away through the sand. 
 Two facts were in his mind : one was that he, the " looney," 
 was about to open communication with the wisdom and 
 contemporary criticism of the settlement, by going for a 
 doctor to administer to a sick and anonymous infant in his 
 possession ; the other was that his solitary house 1 was in 
 the hands of a self-invited, large-limbed, illiterate, but 
 rather comely young woman. These facts he could not 
 gallop away from, but to his credit be it recorded that he 
 fulfilled his mission zealously, if not coherently, to the 
 doctor, who during the rapid ride gathered the idea that 
 North had rescued a young married woman from drowning, 
 who had since given birth to a child. 
 
 The few words that set the doctor right when he arrived 
 at the cabin might in any other community have required 
 further explanation, but Dr. Duchesne, an old army surgeon, 
 was prepared for everything and indifferent to all. " The 
 infant," he said, " was threatened with inflammation of 
 the lungs ; at present there was no danger, but the greatest 
 care and caution must be exercised. Particularly exposure 
 should be avoided." "That settles the whole matter 
 then," said Bessy potentially. Both gentlemen looked 
 their surprise. " It means," she condescended to further
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 325 
 
 explain, " that you must ride that filly home, wait for the 
 old man to come to-morrow, and then ride hack here with 
 some of my duds, for thar 's no ' day-days ' nor picnicking 
 for that baby ontil she's better. And I reckon to stay 
 with her ontil she is." 
 
 " She certainly is unable to bear any exposure at present," 
 said the doctor, with an amused side glance at North's per- 
 plexed face. "Miss Robinson is right. I'll ride with 
 you over the sands as far as the trail." 
 
 " I'm afraid," said North, feeling it incumbent upon him 
 to say something, " that you '11 hardly find it as comfortable 
 here as" 
 
 " I reckon not," she said simply, " but I did n't expect 
 much." 
 
 North turned a little wearily away. " Good-night," she 
 said suddenly, extending her hand, with a gentler smile of 
 lip and eye than he had ever before noticed, " good-night. 
 Take good care of dad." 
 
 The doctor and North rode together some moments in 
 silence. North had another fact presented to him, that is, 
 that he was going a- visiting, and that he had virtually aban- 
 doned his former life ; also that it would be profanation to 
 think of his sacred woe in the house of a stranger. 
 
 " I dare say," said the doctor suddenly, " you are not 
 familiar with the type of woman Miss Bessy presents so 
 perfectly. Your life has been spent among the conventional 
 
 North froze instantly at what seemed to be a probing of 
 his secret. Disregarding the last suggestion, he made 
 answer simply and truthfully that he had never met any 
 Western girl like Bessy. 
 
 " That 's your bad luck," said the doctor. " You think 
 her coarse and illiterate ? " 
 
 Mr. North had been so much struck with her kindness 
 that really he had not thought of it.
 
 326 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 " That 's not so," said the doctor curtly ; " although even 
 if you told her so she would not think any the less of you 
 nor of herself. If she spoke rusti'c Greek instead of Lad 
 English, and wore a cestus in place of an ill-fitting corset, 
 you 'd swear she was a goddess. There 's your trail. 
 Good-night." 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 James North did not sleep well that night. He had 
 taken Miss Bessy's bedroom, at her suggestion, there being 
 but two, and " dad never using sheets and not bein' keerf ul 
 in his habits." It was neat, but that was all. The scant 
 ornamentation was atrocious ; two or three highly-colored 
 prints, a shell work-box, a ghastly winter bouquet of skeleton 
 leaves and mosses, a starfish, and two china vases hideous 
 enough to have been worshiped as Buddhist idols, exhibited 
 the gentle recreation of the fair occupant, and the possible 
 future education of the child. In the morning he was met 
 by Joe, who received the message of his daughter with his 
 usual dejection, and suggested that North stay with him 
 until the child was better. That event was still remote ; 
 North found, on his return to his cabin, that the child had 
 been worse; but he did not know, until Miss Bessy dropped 
 a casual remark, that she had not closed her own eyes that 
 night. It was a week before he regained his own quarters, 
 but an active week indeed, on the whole, a rather pleasant 
 week. For there was a delicate flattery in being domi- 
 neered by a wholesome and handsome woman, and Mr. 
 James North had by this time made up his mind that she 
 was both. Once or twice he found himself contemplating 
 her splendid figure with a recollection of the doctor's com- 
 pliment, and later, emulating her own frankness, told heT 
 of it. 
 
 " And what did you say ? "
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 327 
 
 "Oh, I laughed, and said nothing." 
 
 And so did she. 
 
 A month after this interchange of frankness, she asked 
 him if he could spend the next evening at her house. 
 " You see," she said, " there 's to be a dance down at the 
 hall at Eureka, and I have n't kicked a fut since last spring. 
 Hank Fisher 's comin' up to take rne over, and I 'ni goin' 
 to let the shanty slide for the night." 
 
 " But what 's to become of the baby ? " asked North, a 
 little testily. 
 
 "Well," said Miss Robinson, facing him somewhat ag- 
 gressively, " I reckon it won't hurt ye to take care of it for 
 a night. Dad can't and if he could, he don't know how; 
 Liked to have pizened me after mar died. No, young man, 
 I don't propose to ask Hank Fisher to tote thet child over 
 to Eureka and back, and spile his fun." 
 
 " Then I suppose I must make way for Mr. Hank 
 Hank Fisher ? " said North, with the least tinge of 
 sarcasm in his speech. 
 
 " Of course. You 've got nothing else to do, you know." 
 
 North would have given worlds to have pleaded a pre- 
 vious engagement on business of importance, but he knew 
 that Bessy spoke truly. He had nothing to do. " And 
 Fisher has, I suppose ? " he asked. 
 
 " Of course to look after me ! " 
 
 A more unpleasant evening James North had not spent 
 since the first day of his solitude. He almost began to hate 
 the unconscious cause of his absurd position, as he paced 
 up and down the floor \vith it. " Was there ever such 
 egregious folly ? " he began ; but remembering he was qu^t 
 ing Maria North's favorite resume of his own conduct, h; 
 stopped. The child cried, missing, no doubt, the full 
 rounded curves and plump arm of its nurse. North danced 
 it violently, with an inward accompaniment that was not 
 musical, and thought of the other dancers. " Doubtle&v,,'
 
 828 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 he mused, " she has told this beau of hers that she has left 
 the baby with the ' looney ' Man on the Beach. Perhaps 
 I may be offered a permanent engagement as a harmless 
 simpleton accustomed to the care of children. Mothers 
 may cry for me. The doctor is at Eureka. Of course, he 
 will be there to see his untranslated goddess, and condole 
 with her over the imbecility of The Man on the Beach." 
 Once he carelessly asked Joe who the company were. 
 
 " Well," said Joe mournfully, " thar 's Widder Higsby 
 and darter ; the four Stubbs gals ; in course Polly Doble 
 will be on hand with that feller that 's clerking over at the 
 Head for Jones, and Jones's wife. Then thar 's French 
 Pete, and Whiskey Ben, and that chap that shot Archer, I 
 disremember his name, and the barber what 's that little 
 mulatto's name that ar Kanaka ? I swow ! " continued 
 Joe drearily, " I '11 be forgettin' my own next and " 
 
 "That will do," interrupted North, only half concealing 
 his disgust as he rose and carried the baby to the other 
 room, beyond the reach of names that might shock its lady- 
 like ears. The next morning he met the from-dance-return- 
 ing Bessie abstractedly, and soon took his leave, full of a 
 disloyal plan, conceived in the sleeplessness of her own 
 bedchamber. He was satisfied that he owed a duty to its 
 unknown parents to remove the child from the degrading 
 influences of the barber Kanaka, and Hank Fisher especially, 
 and he resolved to write to his relatives, stating the case, 
 asking a home for the waif and assistance to find its parents. 
 He addressed this letter to his cousin Maria, partly in con- 
 sideration of the dramatic farewell of that young lady, and 
 its possible influence in turning her susceptible heart towards 
 his protegee. He then quietly settled back to his old solitary 
 habits, and for a week left the Robinsons unvisited. The 
 result was a morning call by Trinidad Joe on the hermit. 
 " It 's a whim of my gal's, Mr. North," he said dejectedly ; 
 " and ez 1 told you before and warned ye, when that gal hez
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 329 
 
 an idee, fower yoke of oxen and seving men can't drag it 
 outer her. She 's got a idee o' larnin', never hevin' hed 
 much schooling and we on'y takin' the papers, permiskiss- 
 like, and she says you can teach her not hevin' anythin' 
 else to do. Do you folly me ? " 
 
 " Yes," said North, " certainly." 
 
 " Well, she allows ez mebbee you 're proud, and did n't 
 like her takin' care of the baby for nowt ; and she reckons 
 that ef you '11 gin her some book larnin', and get her to sling 
 some fancy talk in fash'u'ble style why, she'll call it 
 squar." 
 
 " You can tell her," said North, very honestly, " that I 
 shall be only too glad to help her in any way, without ever 
 hoping to cancel my debt of obligation to her." 
 
 " Then it 's a go ? " said the mystified Joe, with a desperate 
 attempt to convey the foregoing statement to his own in- 
 tellect in three Saxon words. 
 
 " It 's a go," replied North cheerfully. 
 
 And he felt relieved. For he was not quite satisfied with 
 his own want of frankness to her. But here was a way to 
 pay off the debt he owed her, and yet retain his own dignity. 
 And now he could tell her what he had done, and he trusted 
 to the ambitious instinct that prompted her to seek a better 
 education to explain his reasons for it. 
 
 He saw her that evening and confessed all to her frankly. 
 She kept her head averted, but when she turned her blue 
 eyes to him they were wet with honest tears. North had a 
 man's horror of a ready feminine lachrymal gland ; but it 
 was not like Bessy to cry, and it meant something ; and then 
 she did it in a large, goddess-like way, without sniffling, or 
 choking, or getting her nose red, but rather with a gentle 
 deliquescence, a harmonious melting, so that he was fain to 
 comfort her with nearer contact, gentleness in his own sad 
 eyes, and a pressure of her large hand. 
 
 " It 's all right, I s'pose," she said sadly ; " but I didn't
 
 330 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 reckon on yer havin' any relations, but thought you was 
 alone, like me." 
 
 James North, thinking of Hank Fisher and the " mul- 
 later," could not help intimating that his relations were 
 very wealthy and fashionable people, and had visited him 
 last summer. A recollection of the manner in which they 
 had so visited him, and his own reception of them, pre- 
 vented his saying more. But Miss Bessy could not forego 
 a certain feminine curiosity, and asked, 
 
 " Did they come with Sam Baker's team ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Last July ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " And Sam drove the horses here for a bite ? " 
 
 " I believe so." 
 
 " And them 's your relations ? " 
 
 " They are." 
 
 Miss Robinson reached over the cradle and enfolded the 
 sleeping infant in her powerful arms. Then she lifted her 
 eyes, wrathful through her still glittering tears, and said, 
 slowly, " They don't have this child then ! " 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 " Oh, why ? / saw them ! That 's why, and enough ! 
 You can't play any such gay and festive skeletons on this 
 poor baby for flesh and blood parents. No, sir ! " 
 
 " I think you judge them hastily, Miss Bessy," said 
 North, secretly amused ; " my aunt may not, at first, favora- 
 bly impress strangers, yet she has many friends. But surely 
 you do not object to my cousin Maria, the young lady ? " 
 
 " What ! that dried cuttlefish, with nothing livin' about 
 her but her eyes ? James North, ye may be a fool like 
 the old woman, perhaps it 's in the family, but ye ain't 
 a devil like that gal ! That ends it." 
 
 And it did. North dispatched a second letter to Maria, 
 saying that he had already made other arrangements for thp
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 331 
 
 baby. Pleased with her easy victory, Miss Bessy became 
 more than usually gracious, and the next day bowed her 
 shapely neck meekly to the yoke of her teacher, and became 
 a docile pupil. James North could not have helped noti- 
 cing her ready intelligence, even had he been less prejudiced 
 in her favor than he was fast becoming now. If he had 
 found it pleasant before to be admonished by her, there was 
 still more delicious flattery in her perfect trust in his omni- 
 scient skill as a pilot over this unknown sea. There was a 
 certain enjoyment in guiding her hand over the writing 
 book, that I fear he could not have obtained from an intel- 
 lect less graciously sustained by its physical nature. The 
 weeks flew quickly by on gossamer wings, and when she 
 placed a bunch of larkspurs and poppies in his hand one 
 morning, he remembered for the first time that it was 
 spring. 
 
 I cannot say that there was more to record of Miss 
 Bessy's education than this. Once North, half jestingly, 
 remarked that he had never yet seen her admirer, Mr. 
 Hank Fisher. Miss Bessy (coloring, but cool) : " You 
 never will ! " North (white, but hot) : " Why ? " Miss 
 Bessy (faintly) : " I 'd rather not." (North resolutely) : 
 " I insist." Bessy (yielding) : " As my teacher ? " North 
 (hesitatingly, at the limitation of the epithet) : " Y-e-e-s ! " 
 Bessy : " And you '11 promise never to speak of it again ? " 
 North : " Never." Bessy (slowly) : " Well,' he said I did 
 an awful thing to go over to your cabin and stay." North 
 (in the genuine simplicity of a refined nature) : " But how ? " 
 Miss Bessy (half piqued, but absolutely admiring that na- 
 ture) : " Quit ! and keep your promise ! " 
 
 They were so happy in these new relations that it oc- 
 curred to Miss Bessy one day to take James North to task 
 for obliging her to ask to be his pupil. "You knew how 
 ignorant I was," she added ; and Mr. North retorted by 
 relating to her the doctor's criticism on her independence.
 
 832 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 " To tell you the truth," he added, " I was afraid you 
 would not take it as kindly as he thought." 
 
 " That is, you thought me as vain as yourself. It seems 
 to me you and the doctor had a great deal to say to each 
 other." 
 
 " On the contrary," laughed North, " that was all we 
 said." 
 
 " And you did n't make fun of me ? " 
 
 Perhaps it was not necessary for North to take her hand 
 to emphasize his denial, but he did. 
 
 Miss Bessy, being still reminiscent, perhaps did not notice 
 it. " If it had n't been for that ar I mean that thar 
 no, that baby I would n't have known you ! " she said 
 dreamily. 
 
 " No," returned North mischievously, " but you still 
 would have known Hank Fisher." 
 
 No woman is perfect. Miss Bessy looked at him with a 
 sudden her first and last flash of coquetry. Then 
 stooped and kissed the baby. 
 
 James North was a simple gentleman, but not altogether 
 a fool. He returned the kiss, but not vicariously. 
 
 There was a footstep on the porch. These two turned 
 the hues of a dying dolphin, and then laughed. It was 
 Joe. He held a newspaper in his hand. " I reckon ye woz 
 right, Mr. North, about my takin' these yar papers reg'lar. 
 For I allow here 's suthin' that may clar up the mystery o' 
 that baby's parents." With the hesitation of a slowly 
 grappling intellect, Joe sat down on the table and read 
 from the San Francisco " Herald " as follows : " ' It is 
 ( now ascertained beyond doubt that the wreck reported by 
 the " JEolus " was the American brig " Pom pare," bound 
 hence to Tahiti. The worst surmises are found correct. 
 The body of the woman has been since identified as that 
 of the beauti-ful daughter of of of Terp Terp 
 Terpish ' Well ! I swow that name just tackles me."
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 333 
 
 "Gin it to me, dad," said Bessy pertly. "You nevei 
 had any education, anyway. Hear your accomplished 
 daughter." With a mock bow to the new schoolmaster, 
 and a capital burlesque of a confident schoolgirl, she strode 
 to the middle of the room, the paper held and folded book- 
 wise in her hands. " Ahem ! Where did you leave off ? 
 Oh, ' the beautiful daughter of Terpsichore whose name 
 was prom-i-nently connected with a mysterious social 
 scandal of last year the gifted but unfortunate Grace 
 Chatterton ' No don't stop me there 's some more ! 
 ' The body of her child, a lovely infant of six months, 
 has not been recovered, and it is supposed was washed 
 overboard.' There ! maybe that 's the child, Mr. North. 
 Why, dad ! Look, my God ! He 's falling. Catch him, 
 dad ! Quick ! 
 
 But her strong arm had anticipated her father's. She 
 caught him, lifted him to the bed, on which he lay hence- 
 forth for many days unconscious. Then fever supervened, 
 and delirium, and Dr. Duchesne telegraphed for his friends ; 
 but at the end of a week and the opening of a summer day 
 the storm passed, as the other storm had passed, and he' 
 awoke, enfeebled, but at peace. Bessy was at his side 
 he was glad to see alone. " Bessy, dear," he said hesi- 
 tatingly, " when I am stronger I have something to tell 
 you." 
 
 " I know it all, Jem," she said with a trembling lip ; " I 
 heard it all no, not from them, but from your own lips 
 in your delirium. I 'm glad it came from you even 
 then." 
 
 " Do you forgive me, Bessy ? " 
 
 She pressed her lips to his forehead, and said hastily, and 
 then falteringly, as if afraid of her impulse, 
 
 Yes yes." 
 
 " And you will still be mother to the child ? " 
 
 " Her child ? "
 
 334 THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 " No, dear, riot hers, but mine ! " 
 
 She started, cried a little, and then putting her arm 
 around him, said, " Yes." 
 
 And as there was but one way of fulfilling that sacred 
 promise, they were married in the autumn.
 
 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 
 
 I THIXK that, from the beginning, we all knew how it 
 would end. He had always been so quiet and conventional, 
 although by nature an impulsive man ; always so temperate 
 and abstemious, although a man with a quick appreciation 
 of pleasure; always so cautious and practical, although an 
 imaginative man, that when, at last, one by one he loosed 
 these bands, and gave himself up to a life perhaps not 
 worse than other lives, which the world has accepted as the 
 natural expression of their various owners, we at once decided 
 that the case was a hopeless one. And when one night we 
 picked him up out of the Union Ditch, a begrimed and 
 weather-worn drunkard, a hopeless debtor, a self-confessed 
 spendthrift, and a half-conscious maudlin imbecile, we knew 
 that the end had come. The wife he had abandoned had 
 in turn deserted him ; the woman he had misled had al- 
 ready realized her folly, and left him with her reproaches ; 
 the associates of his reckless life, who had used and abused 
 him, had found him no longer of service, or even amuse- 
 ment, and clearly there was nothing left to do but to hand 
 him over to the State, and we took him to the nearest 
 penitential asylum. Conscious of the Samaritan deed, we 
 went back to our respective wives, and told his story. It is 
 only just to say that these sympathetic creatures were more 
 interested in the philanthropy of their respective husbands 
 than in its miserable object. " It was good and kind in 
 you, dear," said loving Mrs. Maston to her spouse, as re- 
 turning home that night he flung his coat on a chair with 
 an air of fatigued righteousness ; " it was like your kind
 
 336 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 
 
 heart to care for that beast ; but after he left that good wife 
 of his that perfect saint to take up with that awful wo- 
 man, I think I 'd have left him to die in the ditch. Only to 
 think of it, dear, a woman that you would n't speak to ! " 
 Here Mr. Maston coughed slightly, colored a little, mumbled 
 something about." women not understanding some things," 
 " that men were men," etc., and then went comfortably to 
 sleep, leaving the outcast happily oblivious of all things, 
 and especially this criticism, locked up in Hangtown jail. 
 
 For the next twelve hours he lay there, apathetic and 
 half-conscious. Recovering from this after a while, he 
 became furious, vengeful, and unmanageable, filling the cell 
 and corridor with maledictions of friend and enemy ; and 
 again sullen, morose, and watchful. Then he refused food, 
 and did not sleep, pacing his limits with the incessant 
 feverish tread of a caged tiger. Two physicians, diagnosing 
 his case from the scant facts, pronounced him insane, and 
 he was accordingly transported to Sacramento. But on the 
 way thither he managed to elude the vigilance of his guards, 
 and escaped. The alarm was given, a hue and cry followed 
 him, the best detectives of San Francisco were on his track, 
 and finally recovered his dead body emaciated and wasted 
 by exhaustion and fever in the Stanislaus Marshes, identi- 
 fied it, and, receiving the reward of $1000 offered by his 
 surviving relatives and family, assisted in legally establish- 
 ing the end we had predicted. 
 
 Unfortunately for the moral, the facts were somewhat 
 inconsistent with the theory. A day or two after the remains 
 were discovered and identified, the real body of " Roger Ca- 
 tron, aged fifty-two years, slight, iron-gray hair, and shabby 
 in apparel," as the advertisement read, dragged itself, travel- 
 worn, trembling, and disheveled, up the steep slope of 
 Deadwood Hill. How he should do it he had long since 
 determined ever since he had hidden his derringer, a 
 mere baby pistol, from the vigilance of his keepers. Whert
 
 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 337 
 
 he should do it, he had settled within his mind only withiu 
 the last few moments. Deadwood Hill was seldom fre- 
 quented ; his body might lie there for months before it was 
 discovered. He had once thought of the river, but he 
 remembered it had an ugly way of exposing its secrets on 
 sand-bar and shallow, and that the body of Whiskey Jim, 
 bloated and disfigured almost beyond recognition, had been 
 once delivered to the eyes of Sandy Bar, before breakfast, 
 on the left bank of the Stanislaus. He toiled up through 
 the chemisal that clothed the southern slope of the hill until 
 he reached the bald, storm-scarred cap of the mountain, iron- 
 ically decked with the picked, featherless plumes of a few 
 dying pines. One, stripped of all but two lateral branches, 
 brought a boyish recollection to his fevered brain. Against 
 a background of dull sunset fire, it extended two gaunt 
 arms black, rigid, and pathetic. Calvary ! 
 
 AVith the very word upon his lips, he threw himself, face 
 downwards, on the ground beneath it, and, with his fingers 
 clutched in the soil, lay there for some moments, silent and 
 still. In this attitude, albeit a skeptic and unorthodox man, 
 he prayed. I cannot say indeed, I dare not say that his 
 prayer was heard, or that God visited him thus. Let us 
 rather hope that all there was of God in him, in this crucial 
 moment of agony and shame, strove outward and upward. 
 Howbeit, when the moon rose he rose too, perhaps a trifle 
 less steady than the* planet, and began to descend the hill 
 with feverish haste, yet with this marked difference between 
 his present haste and his former recklessness, that it seemed 
 to have a well-defined purpose. When he reached the road 
 again, he struck into a well-worn trail, where, in the distance, 
 a light faintly twinkled. Following this beacon, he kept on, 
 ind at last flung himself heavily against the door of the 
 little cabin from whose window the light had shone. As he 
 did so, it opened upon the figure of a square, thickset man, 
 who, in the impetuosity of Catron's onset, received him, 
 literally, in his arms.
 
 338 KOGEK CATRON S FRIEND 
 
 " Captain Dick," said Eoger Catron hoarsely, " Cap- 
 tain Dick, save me ! For God's sake, save me ! " 
 
 Captain Dick, without a word, placed a large, protect- 
 ing hand upon Catron's shoulder, allowed it to slip to his 
 waist, and then drew his visitor quietly, but firmly, within 
 the cahin. Yet, in the very movement, he had managed 
 to gently and unobtrusively possess himself of Catron's 
 pistol. 
 
 " Save ye ! From which ? " asked Captain Dick, as 
 quietly and unobtrusively dropping the derringer in a 
 flour sack. 
 
 " From everything," gasped Catron ; " from the men that 
 are hounding me, from my family, from my friends, but 
 most of all from, from : myself ! " 
 
 He had, in turn, grasped Captain Dick, and forced him 
 frenziedly against the wall. The Captain released himself, 
 and, taking the hands of his excited visitor, said slowly, 
 
 " Ye want some blue mass suthin' to onload your 
 liver. I '11 get it up for ye." 
 
 " But, Captain Dick, I 'm an outcast, shamed, dis- 
 graced " 
 
 " Two on them pills taken now, and two in the morning," 
 continued the Captain gravely, rolling a bolus in his 
 fingers, " will bring yer head to the wind again. Yet 
 fallin' to leeward all the time, and ye want to brace up." 
 
 " But, Captain," continued the agonized man, again 
 clutching the sinewy arms of his host, and forcing his livid 
 face and fixed eyes within a few inches of Captain Dick's ; 
 " hear me ! You must and shall hear me. I 've been in 
 jail do you hear ? in jail, like a common felon. I 've 
 been sent to the asylum, like a demented pauper. I 've " 
 
 " Two now, and two in the morning," continued the 
 Captain quietly, releasing one hand only to place two enor- 
 mous pills in the mouth of the excited Catron. " Thar now 
 a drink o' whiskey thar, that '11 do just enough to take
 
 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 339 
 
 the taste out of yer mouth, wash it down, and belay it, so 
 to speak. And how are the mills running, gin'rally, over at 
 the Bar ? " 
 
 " Captain Dick, hear me if you are my friend, for God's 
 sake hear me ! An hour ago I should have been a dead 
 man " 
 
 " They say that Sam Bolin hez sold out of the ' Excel- 
 
 lin Dick! Listen, for God's sake; I have 
 suffered " 
 
 But Captain Dick was engaged in critically examining 
 his man. " I guess I '11 ladle ye out some o' that soothin' 
 mixture I bought down at Simpson's t' other day," he said 
 reflectively. " And I onderstood the boys up on the Bar 
 thinks the rains will set in airly." 
 
 But here Nature was omnipotent. Worn by exhaus- 
 tion, excitement, and fever, and possibly a little affected 
 by Captain Dick's later potion, Roger Catron turned white, 
 and lapsed against the wall. In an instant Captain Dick 
 had caught him, as a child, lifted him in his stalwart arms, 
 wrapped a blanket around him, and deposited him in his 
 bunk. Yet, even in his prostration, Catron made one more 
 despairing appeal for mental sympathy from his host. 
 
 " I know I 'm sick dying, perhaps," he gasped, from 
 under the blankets ; " but promise me, whatever comes, 
 tell my wife : say to " 
 
 " It has been lookin' consid'ble like rain, lately, here 
 abouts," continued the Captain coolly, in a kind of am- 
 phibious slang, characteristic of the man ; " but in these 
 yer latitudes no man kin set up to be a weather-sharp." 
 
 " Captain ! will you hear me ? " 
 
 " Yer goin' to sleep now," said the Captain potentially. 
 
 " But, Captain, they are pursuing me ! If they should 
 track me here ? " 
 
 " Thar is a rifle over thar, and yer 's my navy revolver.
 
 340 EOGER CATRON'S FRIEND 
 
 When I've emptied them, and want you to bear a hand 
 I '11 call ye. Just now your lay is to turn in. It 7 s my 
 watch." 
 
 There was something so positive, strong, assuring, and 
 a little awesome in the Captain's manner that the trembling, 
 nervously prostrated man beneath the blankets forbore to 
 question further. In a, few minutes his breathing, albeit 
 hurried and' irregular, announced that he slept. The Cap- 
 tain then arose, for a moment critically examined the 
 sleeping man, holding his head a little on one side, whistling 
 softly, and stepping backwards to get a good perspective, 
 but always with contemplative good humor, as if Catron 
 were a work of art, which he (the Captain) had created, yet 
 one that he was not yet entirely satisfied with. Then he 
 put a large pea-jacket over his flannel blouse, dragged a 
 Mexican serape from the corner, and putting it over his 
 shoulders, opened the cabin door, sat down on the door- 
 step, and leaning back against the doorpost, composed 
 himself to meditation. The moon lifted herself slowly 
 over the crest of Deadwood Hill, and looked down, not 
 unkindly, on his broad, white, shaven face, round and 
 smooth as her own disc, encircled with a thin fringe of 
 white hair and whiskers. Indeed, he looked so like the 
 prevailing caricatures in a comic almanac of planets, with 
 dimly outlined features, that the moon would have been 
 quite justified in flirting with him, as she clearly did, 
 insinuating a twinkle into his keen, gray eyes, making the 
 shadow of a dimple on his broad, fat chin, and otherwise 
 idealizing him after the fashion of her hero-worshiping 
 sex. Touched by these benign influences, Captain Dick 
 presently broke forth in melody. His song Avas various, 
 but chiefly, I think, confined to the recital of the exploits 
 of one "Lorenzo," who, as related by himself 
 
 " Shipped on board of a Liner, 
 
 'Kenzo, boys, 'Renzo,"
 
 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 341 
 
 a fact that seemed to have deprived him at once of all 
 metre, grammar, or even the power of coherent narrative. 
 At times a groan or a half-articulate cry would come from 
 the " bunk " whereon Roger Catron lay, a circumstance 
 that always seemed to excite Captain Dick to greater effort 
 and more rapid vocalization. Toward morning, in the midst 
 of a prolonged howl from the Captain, who was finishing 
 the " Starboard Watch, Ahoy ! " in three different keys, 
 Roger Catron's voice broke suddenly and sharply from his 
 enwrappings, 
 
 " Dry up, you d d old fool, will you ? " 
 Captain Dick stopped instantly. Rising to his feet, and 
 looking over the landscape, he took all Nature into his con- 
 fidence in one inconceivably arch and crafty wink. " He 's 
 coming up to the wind," he said softly, rubbing his hands. 
 " The pills is fetchin' him. Steady now, boys, steady. 
 Steady as she goes on her course," and with another wink 
 of ineffable wisdom, he entered the cabin and locked the 
 door. 
 
 Meanwhile, the best society of Sandy Bar was kind to 
 the newly made widow. Without being definitely expressed, 
 it was generally felt that sympathy with her was now safe, 
 and carried no moral responsibility with it. Even practical 
 and pecuniary aid, which before had been withheld, lest it 
 should be diverted from its proper intent, and perhaps, 
 through the weakness of the wife, made to minister to the 
 wickedness of the husband even that was now openly 
 suggested. Everybody felt that somebody should do some- 
 thing for the widow. A few did it. Her own sex rallied 
 to her side, generally with large sympathy, but, unfor- 
 tunately, small pecuniary or practical result. At last, when 
 the feasibility of her taking a boarding-house in San Fran- 
 cisco, and identifying herself with that large class of Ameri- 
 can gentlewomen who have seen better days, but clearl*'
 
 342 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 
 
 are on the road never to see them again, was suggested, i 
 few of her own and her husband's rich relatives came tc 
 the front to rehabilitate her. It was easier to take her into 
 their homes as an equal', than to refuse to call upon her as 
 the mistress of a lodging-house in the adjoining street. And 
 upon inspection it was found that she was still quite an 
 eligible partie, prepossessing, and withal, in her widow's 
 weeds, a kind of poetical and sentimental presence, as ne- 
 cessary in a wealthy and fashionable American family as 
 a work of art. " Yes, poor Cai'oline has had a sad, sad his- 
 tory," the languid Mrs. Walker Catron would say, " and 
 we all sympathize with her deeply ; Walker always regards 
 her as a sister." What was this dark history never came 
 out, but its very mystery always thrilled the visitor, and 
 seemed to indicate plainly the respectability of the hostess. 
 An American family without a genteel skeleton in its 
 closet could scarcely add to that gossip which keeps society 
 from forgetting its members. Nor was it altogether unnat- 
 ural that presently Mrs. Roger Catron lent herself to this 
 sentimental deception, and began to think that she really 
 was a more exquisitely aggrieved woman than she imagined. 
 At times, when this vague load of iniquity put upon her 
 dead husband assumed, through the mystery of her friends, 
 the rumor of murder and highway robbery, and even an 
 attempt upon her own life, she went to her room, a little 
 frightened, and had " a good cry," reappearing more mourn- 
 ful and pathetic than ever, and corroborating the suspicions 
 of her friends. Indeed, one or two impulsive gentlemen, 
 fired by her pathetic eyelids, openly regretted that the 
 deceased had not been hanged ; to which Mrs. Walker Catron 
 responded that, " Thank Heaven, they were spared at least 
 that disgrace ! " and so sent conviction into the minds of 
 her hearers. 
 
 It was scarcely two months after this painful close oi 
 her matrimonial life that one rainy February morning the
 
 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 343 
 
 servant brought a card to Mrs. Koger Catron, bearing the 
 following inscription : 
 
 " Richard Graeme Macleod." 
 
 Women are more readily affected by names than we are, 
 and there was a certain Highland respectability about this 
 that, albeit not knowing its possessor, impelled Mrs. Catron 
 to send word that she " would be down in a few moments." 
 At the end of this femininely indefinite period a quarter 
 of an hour by the French clock on the mantlepiece Mrs. 
 Roger Catron made her appearance in the reception-room. 
 It was a dull, wet day, as I have said before, but on the 
 Contra Costa hills the greens and a few flowers were already 
 showing a promise of rejuvenescence and an early spring. 
 There was something of this, I think, in Mrs. Catron's 
 presence, shown perhaps in the coquettish bow of a ribbon, 
 in a larger and more delicate ruche, in a tighter belting of 
 her black cashmere gown ; but still there was a suggestion 
 of recent rain in the eyes, and threatening weather. As 
 she entered the room, the sun came out, too, and revealed 
 the prettiness and delicacy of her figure, and I regret to 
 state, also, the somewhat obtrusive plainness of her visitor. 
 
 " I knew ye 'd be sorter disapp'inted at first, not gettin' 
 the regular bearings o' my name, but I 'm ' Captain Dick.' 
 Mebbee ye 've heard your husband that is, your husband 
 ez waz, Koger Catron speak o' me ? " 
 
 Mrs. Catron, feeling herself outraged arid deceived in 
 belt, ruche, and ribbon, freezingly admitted that she had 
 heard of him before. 
 
 " In course," said the Captain ; " why, Lord love ye, Mrs. 
 Catron ez waz he used to be all the time talkin' of 
 ye. And allers in a free, easy, confidential way. Why, one 
 night don't ye remember ? when he came home, car- 
 ry in', mebbee, more canvas than was seamanlike, and you 
 shet him out the house, and laid for him with a broomstick, 
 or one o' them crokay mallets, I disremember which, and
 
 544 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 
 
 he kem over to me, ole Captain Dick, and I sez to him, sez 
 I, ' Why, Roger, them 's only love pats, and yer condishun 
 is such ez to make any woman mad-like.' Why, Lord 
 bless ye ! there ain't enny of them mootool differences you 
 and him hed ez I does n't knows on, and did n't always 
 stand by, and lend ye a hand, and heave in a word or two 
 of advice when called on." 
 
 Mrs. Catron, ice everywhere but in her pink cheeks, was 
 glad that Mr. Catron seemed to have always a friend to 
 whom he confided everything, even the base falsehoods he 
 had invented. 
 
 " Mebbee now they waz falsehoods," said the Captain 
 thoughtfully. " But don't ye go to think," he added con- 
 scientiously, " that he kept on that tack all the time. Why 
 that day he made a raise, gambling, I think, over at Dutch 
 Flat, and give ye them bracelets regular solid gold 
 why, it would have done your heart good to have heard 
 him talk about you said you had the prettiest arm in 
 Californy. Well," said the Captain, looking around for a 
 suitable climax, " well, you 'd have thought that he was 
 sorter proud of ye ! Why, I woz with him in 'Frisco when 
 he bought that A 1 prize bonnet for ye for $75, and not 
 hevin' over $50 in his pocket, borryed the other $25 outer 
 me. Mebbee it was a little fancy for a bonnet ; but I 
 allers thought he took it a little too much to heart when 
 you swopped it off for that Dollar Varden dress, just 
 because that Lawyer Maxwell said the Dollar Vardens was 
 becomin' to ye. Ye know, I reckon, he was always sorter 
 jealous of that thar shark " 
 
 " May I venture to ask what your business is with me ? " 
 interrupted Mrs. Catron sharply. 
 
 "In course," said the Captain, rising. "Ye see," he 
 said apologetically, " we got to talking o' Roger and ole 
 times, and I got a little out o' my course. It 's a matter 
 of" he began to fumble in his pockets, and finally pro-
 
 KOGEB CATRON'S FRIEND 345 
 
 duced a small memorandum-book, which he glanced over 
 " it 's a matter of $250." 
 
 "I don't understand you," said Mrs. Catron, in indig- 
 nant astonishment. 
 
 " On the loth of July," said the Captain, consulting his 
 memorandum-book, " Roger sold his claim at Nye's Ford 
 for $1500. Now, le' 's see. Thar was nigh on $350 ez he 
 admitted to me he lost at poker, and we '11 add $50 to that 
 for treating, supper, and drinks gin'rally put Roger down 
 for $400. Then there was you. Now you spent $250 on 
 your trip to 'Frisco thet summer ; then $200 went for them 
 presents you sent your Aunt Jane, and thar Avas $400 for 
 house expenses. Well, thet foots up $1250. Now, what 's 
 become of thet other $250 ? " 
 
 Mrs. Catron's woman's impulse to retaliate sharply over- 
 came her first natural indignation at her visitor's impudence. 
 Therein she lost, womanlike, her vantage. 
 
 "Perhaps the woman he fled with can tell you," she said 
 savagely. 
 
 " Thet," said the Captain slowly, " is a good, a reason- 
 able idee. But it ain't true ; from all I can gather she lent 
 him money. It didn't go thar." 
 
 " Roger Catron left me penniless," said Mrs. Catron 
 hotly. 
 
 "Thet's jist what gets me. You oughter have $250 
 somewhar lying round." 
 
 Mrs. Catron saw her error. " May I ask what right you 
 have to question me ? If you have any, I must refer you 
 to my lawyer or my brother-in-law ; if you have none, I 
 hope you will not oblige me to call the servants to put you 
 from the house." 
 
 " Thet sounds reasonable and square, too," said the 
 Captain thoughtfully. "I've a power of attorney from 
 Roger Catron to settle up his affairs and pay his debts, 
 given a week afore them detectives handed ye over his
 
 346 ROGEK CATRON'S FRIEND 
 
 dead body. But I thought that you and me might save 
 lawyer's fees and all fuss and feathers, ef, in a sociable, sad- 
 like way lookin' back sorter on Roger ez you and me 
 once knew him we had a quiet talk together." 
 
 " Good - morning, sir," .said Mrs. Catron, rising stiffly. 
 The Captain hesitated a moment ; a slight flush of color 
 came in his face as he at last rose as the lady backed out 
 of the room. " Good-morning, ma'am," said the Captain, 
 and departed. 
 
 Very little was known of this interview except the general 
 impression in the family that Mrs. Catron had successfully 
 resisted a vague attempt at blackmail from one of her 
 husband's former dissolute companions. Yet it is only fair 
 to say that Mrs. Catron snapped up, quite savagely, two 
 male sympathizers on this subject, and cried a good deal 
 for two days afterward, and once, in the hearing of her 
 sister-in-law, to that lady's great horror, " wished she was 
 dead." 
 
 A week after this interview, as Lawyer Phillips sat in his 
 office, he was visited by Macleod. Recognizing, possibly, 
 some practical difference between the widow and the 
 lawyer, Captain Dick this time first produced his creden- 
 tials, a " power of attorney." " I need not tell you," said 
 Phillips, " that the death of your principal renders this 
 instrument invalid, and I suppose you know that, leaving 
 no will and no property, his estate has not been admin- 
 istered upon." 
 
 " Mebbee it is, and mebbee it isn't. But I hain't askin' 
 for anythin' but information. There was a bit o' prop'ty 
 and a mill onto it, over at Heavy tree, ez sold for $10,000. 
 I don't see," said the Captain, consulting his memorandum- 
 book, " ez he got anything out of it." 
 
 "It was mortgaged for $7000," said the lawyer quickly 
 ' and the interest and fees amount to about $3000 more." 
 
 " The mortgage was given as security for a note ? "
 
 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 347 
 
 " Yes, a gambling debt," said the lawyer sharply. 
 
 " Thet 's so, and my belief ez that it Avas n't a square 
 game. He shouldn't hev given no note. Why, don't ye 
 mind, 'way back in '60, when you and me waz in Marys- 
 ville, that night that you buckod agin faro, and lost seving 
 hundred dollars, and then refoosed to take up your checks., 
 saying it was a fraud and gambling debt ? And don't ye 
 mind when that chap kicked ye, and I helped to drag him 
 off ye and " 
 
 " I 'm busy now, Mr. Macleod," said Phillips hastily ; 
 " my clerk will give you all the information you require. 
 Good-morning." 
 
 " It 's mighty queer," said the Captain thoughtfully, as 
 he descended the stairs, " but the moment the conversation 
 gets limber and sociable-like, and I gets to runnin' free 
 under easy sail, it 's always ' Good-morning, Captain,' and 
 we 're becalmed." 
 
 By some occult influence, however, all the foregoing con- 
 versation, slightly exaggerated, and the whole interview of 
 the Captain with the widow, with sundry additions, became 
 the common property of Sandy Bar, to the great delight of 
 the boys. There was scarcely a person who had ever 
 had business or social relation with Roger Catron, whom 
 " The Frozen Truth," as Sandy Bar delighted to designate 
 the Captain, had not " interviewed," as simply and directly. 
 It is said that he closed a conversation with one of the San 
 Francisco detectives, who had found Roger Catron's body, 
 in these words : " And now hevin' got throo bizness, I was 
 goin' to ask ye what 's gone of Mat Jones, who was with 
 ye in the bush in Austraily. Lord, how he got me quite 
 interested in ye, telling me how you and him got out on a 
 ticket-of-leave, and was chasei by them milishy guards, and 
 at last swam out to a San Francisco bark and escaped ; " 
 but here the inevitable pressure of previous business always 
 stopped the Captain's conversational flow. The natural
 
 848 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 
 
 result of this was a singular reaction in favor of the late 
 Roger Catron in the public sentiment of Sandy Bar, so 
 strong, indeed, as to induce the Rev. Mr. Joshua M'Snagly, 
 the next Sunday, to combat it with the moral of Catron's 
 life. After the service, he was approached in the vestibule, 
 and in the hearing of some of his audience, by Captain 
 Dick, with the following compliment : " In many p'ints yc : 
 hed jess got Roger Catron down to a hair. I knew ye 'ti 
 do it. Why, Lord love ye, you and him had p'ints in 
 common; and when he giv' ye that hundred dollars arter 
 the fire in Sacramento, to help ye rebuild the parsonage, 
 he said to me me not likin' ye on account o' my being 
 on the committee that invited ye to resign from Marysville 
 all along o' that affair with Deacon Pursell's darter ; and a 
 piece she was, parson ! eh ? well, Roger, he ups and sez 
 to me, ' Every man hez his faults/ sez he ; and, sez he, 
 'there's no reason why a parson ain't a human being like 
 us, arid that gal o' Pursell 's is pizen, ez I know.' So ye 
 see, I seed that ye was hittin' yourself over Catron's 
 shoulder, like them early martyrs." But here, as Captain 
 Dick was clearly blocking up all egress from the church, 
 the sexton obliged him to move on, and again he was 
 stopped in his conversational career. 
 
 But only for a time. Before long, it was Avhispered 
 that Captain Dick had ordered a meeting of the creditors, 
 debtors, and friends of Roger Catron at Robinson's Hall. 
 It was suggested, with some show of reason, that this had 
 been done at the instigation of various practical jokers oi 
 Sandy Bar, who had imposed on the simple directness of 
 the Captain, and the attendance that night certainly indi- 
 cated something more than a mere business meeting. All of 
 Sandy Bar crowded into Robinson's Hall, and long x before 
 Captain Dick made his appearance on the platform, with 
 his inevitable memorandum-book, every inch of floor was 
 crowded.
 
 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 349 
 
 The Captain began to read the expenditures of Koger 
 Catron with relentless fidelity of detail. The several losses 
 by poker, the whiskey bills, and the record of a "jamboree " 
 at Tooley's, the vague expenses whereof footed up $275, 
 were received with enthusiastic cheers by the audience. A 
 single milliner's bill for $125 was hailed with delight; 
 $100 expended in treating the Vestal Virgin Combination 
 Troupe almost canonized his memory ; $50 for a simple 
 buggy ride with Deacon Fisk brought down the house; 
 $500 advanced, without security and unpaid, for the elec- 
 tioneering expenses of Assemblyman Jones, who had re- 
 cently introduced a bill to prevent gambling and the sale 
 of lager beer on Sundays, was received with an ominous 
 groan. One or two other items of money loaned occasioned 
 the withdrawal of several gentlemen from the audience 
 amidst the hisses or ironical cheers of the others. 
 
 At last Captain Dick stopped and advanced to the foot- 
 lights. 
 
 " Gentlemen and friends," he said slowly ; " I foots up 
 $25,000 as Roger Catron hez made, fa'r and square, in this 
 yer county. I foots up $27,000 ez he has spent in this yer 
 county. I puts it to you ez men fa'r-minded men ef 
 this man was a pauper and debtor ? I put it to you ez fa'r- 
 minded men ez free and easy men ez political economists 
 ez this the kind of men to impoverish a county ? " 
 
 An overwhelming and instantaneous " No ! " almost 
 drowned the last utterance of the speaker. 
 
 "Thar is only one item," said Captain Dick slowly, 
 " only one item, that ez men ez fa'r-minded men ez 
 political economists it seems to me we hez the right to 
 question, It's this : Thar is an item, read to you by me, 
 of $2000 paid to certing San Francisco detectives, paid out 
 o' the assets o' Roger Catron, for the finding of Roger 
 Catron's body. Gentlemen of Sandy Bar and friends, 1 
 found that body, and yer it is ! "
 
 350 ROGER CATRON'S FRIEND 
 
 And Koger Cation, a little pale and nervous, but pal- 
 pably in the flesh, stepped upon the platform. 
 
 Of course the newspapers were full of it the next day. 
 Of course, in due time, it appeared as a garbled and romantic 
 item in the San Francisco press. Of course Mrs. Catron, 
 on reading it, fainted, and for two days said that this last 
 cruel blow ended all relations between her husband and 
 herself. On the third day she expressed her belief that, if 
 he had had the slightest feeling for her he would long since, 
 for the sake of mere decency, have communicated with her. 
 On the fourth day she thought she had been, perhaps, badly 
 advised, had an open quarrel with her relatives, and inti- 
 mated that a wife had certain obligations, etc. On the sixth 
 day, still' not hearing from him, she quoted Scripture, spoke 
 of a seventy-times-seven forgiveness, and went generally into 
 mild hysterics. On the seventh, she left in the morning 
 train for Sandy Bar. 
 
 And really I don't know as I have anything more to tell, 
 I dined with them recently, and, upon my word, a more 
 decorous, correct, conventional, and dull dinner I never ate 
 in my life.
 
 "JINNY" 
 
 I THINK that the few who were permitted to know and 
 love the object of this sketch spent the rest of their days, 
 not only in an attitude of apology for having at first failed 
 to recognize her higher nature, but of remorse that they 
 should have ever lent a credulous ear to a priori tradition 
 concerning her family characteristics. She had not escaped 
 that calumny which she shared with the rest of her sex for 
 those youthful follies, levities, and indiscretions which be- 
 long to immaturity. It is very probable that the firmness 
 that distinguished her maturer will in youth might have 
 been taken for obstinacy, that her nice discrimination might 
 at the same period have been taken for adolescent caprice, 
 and that the positive expression of her quick intellect might 
 have been thought youthful impertience before her years 
 had Avon respect for her j udgment. 
 
 She was foaled at Indian Creek, and one month later, 
 when she was brought over to Sawyer's Bar, was considered 
 the smallest donkey ever seen in the foothills. The legend 
 that she was brought over in one of " Dan the Quartz 
 Crusher's " boots required corroboration from that gentle 
 man ; but his denial being evidently based upon a masculine 
 vanity regarding the size of his foot rather than a desire to 
 be historically accurate,* it went for nothing. It is certain 
 that for the next two months she occupied the cabin of 
 Dan, until, perhaps incensed at this and other scandals, she 
 one night made her way out. " I had n't the least idee wot 
 woz comin'," said Dan ; " but about midnight I seemed to 
 hear hail onto the roof, and a shower of rocks and stones
 
 352 " JINNY " 
 
 like to a blast started in the canon. When I got up and 
 struck a light, thar was suthin' like onto a cord o' kindlin' 
 wood and splinters whar she 'd stood asleep, and a hole in 
 the side o' the shanty, and no Jinny ! Lookin' at them 
 hoofs o' hern and mighty porty they is to look at, too 
 you would allow she could do it ! " I fear that this per- 
 formance laid the foundation of her later infelicitous reputa- 
 tion, and perhaps awakened in her youthful breast a mis- 
 placed ambition, and an emulation which might at that time 
 have been diverted into a nobler channel. For the fame of 
 this juvenile performance and its possible promise in the 
 future brought at once upon her the dangerous flattery 
 and attention of the whole camp. Under intelligently di- 
 rected provocation she would repeat her misguided exercise, 
 until most of the scanty furniture of the cabin was reduced 
 to a hopeless wreck, and sprains and callosities were devel- 
 oped upon the limbs of her admirers. Yet even at this 
 early stage of her history, that penetrating intellect which 
 was in after years her dominant quality was evident to all. 
 She could not be made to kick at quartz tailings, at a barrel 
 of Boston crackers, or at the head or shin of " Nigger Pete." 
 An artistic discrimination economized her surplus energy. 
 "Ef you '11 notiss," said Dan, with a large parental softness, 
 "she never lets herself out to onst like them mules or any 
 jackass ez I 've heerd of, but kinder holds herself in, and, 
 so to speak, takes her bearings sorter feels round gently 
 with that off foot, takes her distance and he.r rest, and then 
 with that ar foot hoverin' round in the air softly, like an 
 angel's wing, and a gentle, dreamy kind o' look in them 
 eyes, she lites out ! Don't ye, Jinny ? Thar ! jist ez I 
 told ye," continued Dan, with an artist's noble forgetful- 
 ness of self, as he slowly crawled from the splintered ruin 
 of the barrel on which he had been sitting. " Thar ! did 
 ye ever see the like ? Did ye dream that all the while I 
 was talkin' she was a-meditatin' that ? "
 
 " JINNY " 353 
 
 The same artistic perception and noble reticence distin- 
 guished her bray. It was one of which a less sagacious 
 animal would have been foolishly vain or ostentatiously 
 prodigal. It was a contralto of great compass and pro- 
 fundity reaching from a low G to high C perhaps a 
 trifle stronger in the lower register, and not altogether free 
 from a nasal falsetto in the upper. Daring and brilliant as 
 it was in the middle notes, it was perhaps more musically 
 remarkable for its great sustaining power. The element of 
 surprise always entered into the hearer's enjoyment ; long 
 after any ordinary strain of human origin would have 
 ceased, faint echoes of Jinny's last note were perpetually 
 recurring. But it was as an intellectual and moral expres- 
 sion that her bray was perfect. As far beyond her size as 
 were her aspirations, it was a free and running commentary 
 of scorn at all created things extant, with ironical and sar- 
 donic additions that were terrible. It reviled all human 
 endeavor, it quenched all sentiments, it suspended frivolity, 
 it scattered reverie, it paralyzed action. It was omnipotent. 
 More wonderful and characteristic than all, the very exist- 
 ence of this tremendous organ was unknown to the camp 
 for six months after the arrival of its modest owner, and 
 only revealed to them tinder circumstances that seemed to 
 point more conclusively than ever to her rare discretion. 
 
 It was the beginning of a warm night and the middle of 
 a heated political discussion. Sawyer's Bar had gathered 
 in force at the Crossing, and by the light of flaring pine 
 torches, cheered and applauded the rival speakers who from 
 a rude platform addressed the excited multitude. Partisan 
 spirit at that time ran high in the foothills ; crimination 
 and recrimination, challenge, reply, accusation, and retort had 
 already inflamed the meeting, and Colonel Bungstarter, after 
 a withering review of his opponent's policy, culminated 
 with a personal attack upon the career and private char- 
 acter of the eloquent and chivalrous Colonel Culpeppei
 
 354 " JINNY " 
 
 Starbottle of Siskiyou. That eloquent and chivalrous gen- 
 tleman was known to be present ; it was rumored that the 
 attack was expected to provoke a challenge from Colonel 
 Starbottle which would give Bungstarter the choice of 
 weapons, and deprive Starbottle of his advantage as a dead- 
 shot. It was whispered also that the sagacious Starbottle, 
 aware of this fact, would retaliate in kind so outrageously 
 as to leave Bungstarter no recourse but to demand satisfac- 
 tion on the spot. As Colonel Stai'bottle rose, the eager 
 crowd drew together, elbowing each other in rapt and 
 ecstatic expectancy. " He can't get even on Bungstarter, 
 onless he allows his sister ran off with a nigger, or that he 
 put up his grandmother at draw-poker and lost her," whis- 
 pered the Quartz Crusher ; " kin he ? " All ears were 
 alert, particularly the very long and hairy ones just rising 
 above the railing of the speaker's platform ; for Jinny, hav- 
 ing a feminine distrust of solitude and a fondness for show, 
 had followed her master to the meeting, and had insinuated 
 herself upon the platform, where way was made for her 
 with that frontier courtesy always extended to her age and 
 sex. 
 
 Colonel Starbottle, stertorous and purple, advanced to 
 the railing: There he unbuttoned his collar and laid his 
 neckcloth aside ; then with his eye fixed on his antagonist 
 he drew off his blue frock-coat, and thrusting one hand into 
 his ruffled shirt-front, and raising the other to the dark can- 
 opy above him, he opened his vindictive lips. The action, 
 the attitude, were Starbottle's. But the voice was not. 
 For at that supreme moment, a bray so profound, so ap- 
 palling, so utterly soul-subduing, so paralyzing that every- 
 thing else sank to mere insignificance beside it filled 
 woods and sky and air. For a moment only the multitude 
 gasped in speechless astonishment, it was a moment only, 
 and then the welkin roared with their shouts. In vain 
 silence was commanded, in vain Colonel Starbottle, with a
 
 " JINNY " 355 
 
 ghastly smile, remarked that .he recognized in the interrup 
 tion the voice and intellect of the opposition ; the laugh 
 continued, the more as it was discovered that Jinny had 
 not yet finished, and was still recurring to her original 
 theme. " Gentlemen," gasped Starbottle, " any attempt by 
 [Hee-haw! from Jinny] brutal buffoonery to restrict the 
 right of free speech to all [a prolonged assent from Jinny] 
 is worthy only the dastardly " but here a diminuendo so 
 long drawn as to appear a striking imitation of the Colonel's 
 own apoplectic sentences drowned his voice with shrieks of 
 laughter. 
 
 It must not be supposed that during this performance a 
 vigorous attempt was not made to oust Jinny from the 
 platform. But all in vain. Equally demoralizing in either 
 extremity, Jinny speedily cleared a circle with her flying 
 hoofs, smashed the speaker's table and water pitcher, sent 
 the railing flying in fragments over the cheering crowd, and 
 only succumbed to two blankets, in which, with her head 
 concealed, she was finally dragged, half captive, half victor, 
 from the field. Even then a muffled and supplemental 
 bray that came from the woods at intervals drew half the 
 crowd away and reduced the other half to mere perfunc- 
 tory hearers. The demoralized meeting was adjourned ; 
 Colonel Starbottle's withering reply remained unuttered, 
 and the Bungstarter party were triumphant. 
 
 For the rest of the evening Jinny was the heroine of the 
 hour, but no cajolery nor flattery could induce her to again 
 exhibit her powers. In vain did Dean of Angel's extem- 
 porize a short harangue in the hope that Jinny would be 
 tempted to reply ; in vain was every provocation offered 
 that might sting her sensitive nature to eloquent revolt. 
 She replied only with her heels. Whether or not this was 
 simple caprice, or whether she was satisfied with her maiden 
 effort, or indignant at her subsequent treatment, she re- 
 mained silent, " She made her little game," said Dan,
 
 856 " JINNY " 
 
 who was a political adherent of Starbottle's, and who yet 
 from that day enjoyed the great speaker's undying hatred ; 
 " and even if me and her don't agree on politics you let 
 her alone." Alas, it would have been well for Dan if he 
 could have been true to his instincts, but the offer of one 
 hundred dollars from the Bungstarter party proved too 
 tempting. She passed irrevocably from his hands into 
 those of the enemy. But any reader of these lines will, I 
 trust, rejoice to hear that this attempt to restrain free 
 political expression in the foothills failed signally. For, 
 although she was again covertly introduced on the platform 
 by the Bungstarters, and placed face to face with Colonel 
 Starbottle at Murphy's Camp, she was dumb. Even a 
 brass band failed to excite her emulation. Either she had 
 become disgusted with politics, or the higher prices paid by 
 the party to other and less effective speakers aroused her 
 jealousy arid shocked her self-esteem, but she remained a 
 passive spectator. When the Hon. Sylvester Rouvback, 
 who received, for the use of his political faculties for a 
 single night, double the sum for which she was purchased 
 outright, appeared on the same platform with herself, she 
 forsook it hurriedly and took to the woods. Here she 
 might have starved but for the intervention -of one M'Carty, 
 a poor market-gardener, who found her, and gave her food 
 and shelter under the implied contract that she should 
 forsake politics and go to work. The latter she for a long 
 time resisted, but as she was considered large enough by 
 this time to dr,aw a cart, M'Carty broke her to single 
 harness, with a severe fracture of his leg and the loss of 
 four teeth and a small spring wagon. At length, when she 
 could be trusted to carry his wares to Murphy's Camp, and 
 could be checked from entering a shop with the cart at- 
 tached to her a fact of which she always affected perfect 
 disbelief her education was considered as complete as 
 that of the average Californian donkey. It was still unsafe
 
 "JINNY" 357 
 
 to leave her alone, as she disliked solitude, and always 
 made it a point to join any group of loungers with her un- 
 necessary cart, and even to follow some good-looking miner 
 to his cabin. The first time this peculiarity was discovered 
 by her owner was on his return to the street after driving 
 a bargain within the walls of the Temperance Hotel. Jinny 
 was nowhere to be seen. Her devious course, however, 
 was pleasingly indicated by vegetables that strewed the 
 road until she was at last tracked to the veranda of the 
 Arcade saloon, where she was found looking through the 
 window at a game of euchre, and only deterred by the 
 impeding cart from entering the building. A visit one 
 Sunday to the little Catholic chapel at French Camp, where 
 she attempted to introduce an antiphonai service and the 
 cart, brought shame and disgrace upon her unlucky master. 
 For the cart contained freshly gathered vegetables, and the 
 fact that M'Carty had been Sabbath-breaking was painfully 
 evident. Father Sullivan was quick to turn an incident 
 that provoked only the risibilities of his audience into a 
 moral lesson. " It 's the poor dumb beast that has a 
 more Christian sowl. than Michael," he commented ; but 
 here Jinny assented so positively that they were fain to 
 drag her away by main force. 
 
 To her eccentric and thoughtless youth succeeded a calm, 
 maturity, in which her conservative sagacity was steadily 
 developed. She now worked for her living, subject, how- 
 ever, to a nice discrimination by which she limited herself 
 to a certain amount of work, beyond which neither threats, 
 beatings, nor cajoleries would force her. At certain hours 
 she Avould start for the stable with or without the in- 
 cumbrances of the cart or Michael, turning two long and deaf 
 ears on all expostulation or entreaty. " Now, God be good to 
 me," said Michael, one day, picking himself out from a ditch 
 as he gazed sorrowfully after the flying heels of Jinny, " but 
 it 's only the second load of cabbages I 'm bringin' the day,
 
 358 " JINNY " 
 
 and if she 's shtruck now, it 's ruined I am entoirely." But 
 he was mistaken ; after two hours of rumination Jinny 
 returned of her own free will, having evidently mistaken the 
 time, and it is said even consented to draw an extra load to 
 make up the deficiency. It may be imagined from this and 
 other circumstances that Michael stood a little in awe of 
 Jinny's superior intellect, and that Jinny occasionally, with 
 the instinct of her sex, presumed upon it. After the 
 Sunday episode, already referred to, she was given her 
 liberty on that day, a privilege she gracefully recognized by 
 somewhat unbending her usual austerity in the indulgence 
 of a saturnine humor. She would visit the mining camps, 
 and, grazing lazily and thoughtfully before the cabins, 
 would, by various artifices and coquetries known to the 
 female heart, induce some credulous stranger to approach 
 her with the intention of taking a ride. She would submit 
 hesitatingly to a halter, allow him to mount her back, and, 
 with every expression of timid and fearful reluctance, at 
 last permit him to guide her in a laborious trot out of sight 
 of human habitation. What happened then was never 
 clearly known. In a few moments the camp would be 
 aroused by shouts and execrations, and the spectacle of 
 Jinny tearing by at a frightful pace, with the stranger 
 clinging with his arms around her neck, afraid to slip off, 
 from terror of her circumvolving heels, and vainly implor- 
 ing assistance. Again and again she would dash by the 
 applauding groups, adding the aggravation of her voice to 
 the danger of her heels, until, stiddenly wheeling, she would 
 gallop to Carter's Pond and deposit her luckless freight in the 
 muddy ditch. This practical joke was repeated until one 
 Sunday she was approached by Juan Ramirez, a Mexican 
 vaquero, booted and spurred, and carrying a riata. A 
 crowd was assembled to see her discomfiture. But, to the 
 intense disappointment of the camp, Jinny, after quietly 
 surveying the stranger, uttered a sardonic bray, and ambled
 
 THE GENTLE LADY AND HEK FOUR-FOOTED FRIEND
 
 " JINNY " 359 
 
 away to the little cemetery on the hill,, whose tangled 
 chaparral effectually prevented all pursuit by her skilled 
 antagonist. From that day she forsook the camp, and 
 spent her Sabbaths in mortuary reflection among the pine 
 head-boards and cold "hicjacets" of the dead. 
 
 Happy would it have been if this circumstance, which 
 resulted in the one poetic episode of her life, had occurred 
 earlier; for the cemetery was the favorite resort of Miss 
 Jessie Lawton, a gentle invalid from San Francisco, who 
 had sought the foothills for the balsam of pine and fir, and 
 in the faint hope that the freshness of the wind roses might 
 call back her own. The extended views from the cemetery 
 satisfied Miss Lawton's artistic taste, and here frequently, 
 with her sketch-book in hand, she indulged that taste and 
 a certain shy reserve which kept her from contact with 
 strangers. On one of the leaves of that sketch-book appears 
 a study of a donkey's head, being none other than the grave 
 features of Jinny, as once projected timidly over the artist's 
 shoulder. The preliminaries of this intimacy have never 
 transpired, nor is it a settled fact if Jinny made the first 
 advances. The result was only known .to the men of 
 Sawyer's Bar by a vision which remained fresh in their 
 memories long after the gentle lady and her four-footed 
 friend had passed beyond their voices. As two of the 
 tunnel-men were returning from work one evening, they 
 chanced to look up the little trail, kept sacred from secular 
 intrusion, that led from the cemetery to the settlement. In 
 the dim twilight, against a sunset sky, they beheld a pale- 
 faced girl riding slowly toward them. With a delicate 
 instinct, new to these rough men, they drew closer in the 
 shadow of the bushes until she passed. There was no mis- 
 taking the familiar grotesqueness of Jinny ; there was no 
 mistaking the languid grace of Miss Lawton. But a wreath 
 of wild roses was around Jinny's neck, from her long ears 
 floated Miss Jessie's hat ribbons, and a mischievous, girlish
 
 360 " JINNY " 
 
 smile was upon Miss Jessie's face, as fresh as the azaleas in 
 her hair. By the next day the story of this gentle apparition 
 was known to a dozen miners in camp, and all were sworn to 
 secrecy. But the next evening, and the next, from the safe 
 shadows of the woods they watched and drank in the beauty 
 of that fanciful and all unconscious procession. They kept 
 their secret, and never a whisper or footfall from these rough 
 men broke its charm or betrayed their presence. The man 
 who could have shocked the sensitive reserve of the young 
 girl would have paivl for it with his life. 
 
 And then one day the character of the procession changed, 
 and this little incident having been told, it was permitted 
 that Jinny should follow her friend, caparisoned even as be- 
 fore, but this time by the rougher but no less loving hands of 
 men. When the cortege reached the ferry where the dead 
 girl was to begin her silent journey to the sea, Jinny broke 
 from those who held her, and after a frantic effort to mount 
 the barge fell into the swiftly rushing Stanislaus. A dozen 
 stout arms were stretched to save her, and a rope, skillfully 
 thrown, was caught around her feet. For an instant she was 
 passive, and, as. it seemed, saved. But the next moment 
 her dominant instinct returned, and with one stroke of her 
 powerful heel she snapped the rope in twain and so drifted 
 with her mistress to the sea.
 
 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 
 
 IT never was clearly ascertained how long they had been 
 there. The first settler of Kough-and-Keady one Low, 
 playfully known to his familiars as " The Poor Indian " 
 declared that the Saints were afore his time, and occupied 
 a cabin in the brush when he " blazed " his way to the 
 North Fork. It is certain that the two were present when 
 the water was first turned on the Union Ditch, and then 
 and there received the designation of Daddy Downey and 
 Mammy Downey, which they kept to the last. As they 
 tottered toward the refreshment tent, they were welcomed 
 with the greatest enthusiasm by the boys ; or, to borrow 
 the more refined language of the "Union Kecorder," 
 "Their gray hairs and bent figures, recalling as they did 
 the happy paternal eastern homes of the spectators, and the 
 blessings that fell from venerable lips when they left those 
 homes to journey in quest of the Golden Fleece on Occi- 
 dental Slopes, caused many to burst into tears." The 
 nearer facts, that many of these spectators were orphans, 
 that a few were unable to establish any legal parentage 
 whatever, that others had enjoyed a State's guardianship 
 and discipline, and that a majority had left their parental 
 roofs without any embarrassing preliminary formula, were 
 mere passing clouds that did not dim the golden imagery 
 of the writer. From that day the Saints were adopted aa 
 historical lay figures, and entered at once into possession of 
 uninterrupted gratuities and endowment. 
 
 It was not strange that, in a country largely made up of
 
 362 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 
 
 ambitious and reckless youth, these two types of conser- 
 vative and settled forms should be thus celebrated. Apart 
 from any sentiment of veneration, they were admirable foils 
 to the community's youthful progress and energy. They 
 were put forward at every social gathering, occupied promi- 
 nent seats on the platform at every public meeting, walked 
 first in every procession, were conspicuous at the frequent 
 funeral and rarer wedding, and were godfather and god- 
 mother to the first baby born in Rough-and-Beady. At the 
 first poll opened in that precinct, Daddy Downey cast the 
 first vote, and, as was his custom on all momentous occa- 
 sions, became volubly reminiscent. " The first vote I ever 
 cast," said Daddy, " was for Andrew Jackson the father 
 o' some on you peart young chaps was n't born then ; he ! 
 he ! that was 'way long in '33, was n't it ? I disremem- 
 ber now, but if Mammy was here, she bein' a school-gal at 
 the time, she could say. But my memory 's failin' me. 
 I 'm an old man, boys ; yet I likes to see the young ones 
 go ahead. I recklect that thar vote from a suckumstance. 
 Squire Adams was present, and seein' it was my first vote, 
 he put a goold piece into my hand, and, sez he, sez Squire 
 Adams, ' Let that always be a reminder of the exercise of 
 a glorious freeman's privilege ! ' He did ; he ! he ! Lord, 
 boys ! I feel so proud of ye, that I wish I had a hundred 
 votes to cast for ye all." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that the memorial tribute of 
 Squire Adams was increased tenfold by the judges, inspec- 
 tors, and clerks, and that the old man tottered back to 
 Mammy considerably heavier than he came. As both of 
 the rival candidates were equally sure of his vote, and each 
 had called upon him and offered a conveyance, it is but fair 
 to presume they were equally beneficent. But Daddy 
 insisted upon walking to the polls, a distance of two 
 miles, as a moral example, and a text for the California!)
 
 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 3QI 
 
 paragraphers, who hastened to record that such was the 
 influence of the foot-hill climate, that " a citizen of Eough- 
 and-Ready, aged eighty-four, rose at six o'clock, and, after 
 milking two cows, walked a distance of twelve miles to the 
 polls, and returned in time to chop a cord of wood before 
 dinner." Slightly exaggerated as this statement may have 
 been, the fact that Daddy was always found by the visitot 
 to be engaged at his wood-pile, which seemed neither tc 
 increase nor diminish under his axe, a fact, doubtless, 
 owing to the activity of Mammy, who was always at the 
 same time making pies, seemed to give some credence to 
 the story. Indeed, the wood-pile of Daddy Downey was 
 a standing reproof to the indolent and sluggish miner. 
 
 " Ole Daddy must use up a pow'ful sight of wood ; every 
 time I 've passed by his shanty he 's been makin' the chips 
 fly. But what gets me is, that the pile don't seem to come 
 down," said Whiskey Dick to his neighbor. 
 
 "Well, you derned fool!" growled his neighbor, " spose 
 gome chap happens to pass by thar, and sees the ole man 
 doin' a man's work at eighty, and slouches like you and me 
 lying round drunk, and that chap, feelin' kinder humped, 
 goes up some dark night and heaves a load of cut pine over 
 his fence, who 's got anything to say about it ? say ? " 
 
 Certainly not the speaker, who had done the act suggested, 
 nor the penitent and remorseful hearer, who repeated it 
 next day. 
 
 The pies and cakes made by the old woman were, I think, 
 remarkable rather for their inducing the same loyal and 
 generous spirit than for their intrinsic excellence, and, it may 
 be said, appealed more strongly to the nobler aspirations of 
 humanity than its vulgar appetite. Howbeit, everybody 
 ate Mammy Downey's pies, and thought of his childhood. 
 " Take 'em, dear boys," the old lady would say ; " it does 
 me good to see you eat 'em ; reminds me kinder of my poor
 
 364 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 
 
 Sammy, that ef he 'd lived, would hev been ez strong and big 
 ez you be, but was taken down with lung fever at Sweet- 
 water. I kin see him yet ; that 's forty years ago, dear ! 
 comin' out o' the lot to the bakehouse, and smilin' such a 
 beautiful smile, like yours, dear boy, as I handed him a 
 minco or a lemming turnover. Dear, dear, how I do run on ! 
 and those days is past ! but I seems to live in you again ! " 
 The wife of the hotel-keeper, actuated by a low jealousy, 
 had suggested that she " seemed to live off them ; " but as 
 that person tried to demonstrate the truth of her statement 
 by reference to the cost of the raw material used by the old 
 lady, it was considered by tin; camp as too practical and 
 economical for consideration. " Besides," added Cy Perkins, 
 " ef old Mammy wants to turn an honest penny in her old 
 age, let her do it. How would you like' your old mother 
 to make pies on grub wages, eh ? " a suggestion that so 
 affected his hearer (who had no mother) that he bought 
 three on the spot. The quality of these pies had never been 
 discussed but once. It is related that a young lawyer from 
 San Francisco, dining at the Palmetto restaurant, pushed 
 away one of Mammy Downey's pies with every expression 
 of disgust and dissatisfaction. At this juncture, Whiskey 
 Dick, considerably affected by his favorite stimulant, ap- 
 proached the stranger's table, and, drawing up a chair, sat 
 uninvited before him. ' 
 
 " Mebbee, young man," he began gravely, " ye don't like 
 Mammy Downey's pies ? " 
 
 The stranger replied curtly, and in some astonishment, 
 that he did not, as a rule, " eat pie." 
 
 " Young man," continued Dick with drunken gravity, 
 "mebbee you 're accustomed to Charlotte rusks and blue 
 mange ; mebbee ye can't eat unless your grub is got up by 
 one o' them French cooks ? Yet we us boys yar in this 
 samp calls that pie, a good com-pe-tent pie ! "
 
 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS Q5 
 
 The stranger again disclaimed anything but a general 
 dislike of that form of pastry. 
 
 " Young man," continued Dick, utterly unheeding the 
 explanation, " young man, mebbee you onc't had an ole, 
 a very ole mother, who, tottering down the vale o' years, 
 made pies. Mebbee and it 's like your blank epicurean 
 soul ye turned up your nose on the ole woman, and went 
 back on the pies, and on her ! She that dandled ye when 
 ye woz a baby, a little baby ! Mebbee ye went back on 
 her, and shook her, and played off on her, and gave her 
 away dead away! And now, mebbee, young man, I 
 would n't hurt ye for the world, but mebbee, afore ye 
 leave this yar table, YE 'LL EAT THAT PIE ! " 
 
 The stranger rose to his feet, but the muzzle of a dragoon 
 revolver in the unsteady hands of Whiskey Dick caused him 
 to sit down again. He ate the pie, and lost his case like- 
 wise before a Kough-and- Ready jury. 
 
 Indeed, far from exhibiting the cynical doubts and dis- 
 trusts of age, Daddy Downey received always with child- 
 like delight the progress of modern improvement and 
 energy. " In my day, long back in the twenties, it took us 
 nigh a week a week, boys to get up a barn, and all 
 the young ones I was one then for miles round at the 
 raisin' ; and yer 's you boys rascals ye are, too runs 
 up this yer shanty for Mammy and me 'twixt sun-up and 
 dark ! Eh, eh, you 're teachin' the old folks new tricks, 
 are ye ? Ah, get along, you ! " and in playful simulation 
 of anger he would shake his white hair and his hickory 
 staff at the " rascals." The only indication of the conserva- 
 tive tendencies of age was visible in his continual protest 
 against the extravagance of the boys. " Why," he would 
 say, "a family, a hull family, leavin' alone me and the 
 old woman, might be supported on what you young ras- 
 cals throw away in a single spree. Ah, you young dogs, 
 didn't I hear about your scattering half-dollars on the
 
 866 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 
 
 stage the other night when that Eyetalian Papist was 
 singin'. And that money goes out of Ameriky ivry 
 cent ! " 
 
 There was little doubt that the old couple were sav- 
 ing, if not avaricious. But when it was known, through 
 the indiscreet volubility of Mammy Downey, that Daddy 
 Downey sent the bulk of their savings, gratuities, and gifts, 
 to a dissipated and prodigal son in the East, whose 
 photograph the old man always carried with him, it 
 rather elevated him in their regard. " When ye write to 
 that gay and festive son o' your'n, Daddy," said Joe Bobin- 
 son, " send him this yer specimen. Give him my compli- 
 ments, and tell him, ef he kin spend money faster than J 
 can, I call him ! Tell him, ef he wants a first-class jam 
 boree, to kem out here, and me and the boys will show him 
 what a square drunk is!" In vain would the old man 
 continue to protest against the spirit of the gift ; the miner 
 generally returned with his pockets that much the lighter, 
 and it is not improbable a little less intoxicated than he 
 otherwise might have been. It may be premised that 
 Daddy Downey was strictly temperate. The only way he 
 managed to avoid hurting the feelings of the camp was by 
 accepting the frequent donations of whiskey to be used for 
 the purposes of liniment. 
 
 " Next to snake-oil, my son," he would say, " and 
 dilberry-juice, and ye don't seem to pro-duce 'em here 
 abouts, whiskey is good for rubbin' onto old bones tc 
 make 'em limber. But pure cold water, ' sparklin' arid 
 bright in its liquid light,' and, so to speak, reflectiri' of 
 God's own linyments on its surfiss, is the best, on less, like 
 ^oor ol' Mammy and me, ye gets the dumb-agur from over- 
 use." 
 
 The fame of the Downey couple was not confined to the 
 *)ot-bills. The Eev. Henry Gushington, D. D., of Boston, 
 making a bronchial tour of California, wrote to the " Chris-
 
 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 367 
 
 tian Pathfinder " an affecting account of his visit to them, 
 placed Daddy Downey's age at 102, and attributed the 
 recent conversions in R,ough-and-Ready to their influence. 
 That gifted literary Hessian, Bill Smith, "traveling in the 
 interests of various capitalists, and the trustworthy corre- 
 spondent of four " only independent American journals," 
 quoted him as an evidence of the longevity superinduced 
 by the climate, offered him as an example of the security 
 of helpless life and property in the mountains, used him as 
 an advertisement of the Union Ditch, and it is said, in 
 some vague way, cited him as proving the collateral facts of 
 a timber and ore producing region existing in the foot-hills 
 worthy the attention of Eastern capitalists. 
 
 Praised thus by the lips of distinguished report, fostered 
 by the care and sustained by the pecuniary offerings of 
 their fellow-citizens, the Saints led for two years a peaceful 
 life of gentle absorption. To relieve them from the embar- 
 rassing appearance of eleemosynary receipts, an embarrass- 
 ment felt more by the givers than the recipients, the 
 postmastership of Rough-and-Ready was procured for Daddy, 
 and the duty of receiving and delivering the United States 
 mails performed by him, with the advice and assistance of 
 the boys. If a few letters went astray at this time, it was 
 easily attributed to this undisciplined aid, and the boys 
 themselves were always ready to make up the value of a 
 missing money-letter and "keep the old man's accounts 
 square." To these functions presently were added the trea- 
 surerships of the Masons' and Odd Fellows' charitable 
 funds, the old man being far advanced in their respec- 
 tive degrees, and even the po ition of almoner of their 
 bounties was superadded. Here, unfortunately, Daddy's 
 habits of economy and avaricious propensity came near mak- 
 ing him unpopular, and very often needy brothers were 
 forced to object to the quantity and quality of the help 
 extended. They always met with more generous relief
 
 368 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 
 
 from the private hands of the brothers themselves, and the 
 remark that " the ol' man was trying to set an example, 
 that he meant well," and that they would yet be thank- 
 ful for his zealous care and economy. A few, I think, 
 suffered in noble silence, rather than bring the old man's 
 infirmity to the public notice. 
 
 And so with this honor of Daddy and Mammy, the days 
 of the miners were long and profitable in the land of the 
 foot-hills. The mines yielded their abundance, the winters 
 were singularly open, and yet there was no drouth nor lack 
 of water, and peace and plenty smiled on the Sierran foot- 
 hills, from their highest sunny upland to the trailing falda 
 of wild oats and poppies. If a certain superstition got 
 abroad among the other camps, connecting the fortunes of 
 Rough-and-Ready with Daddy and Mammy, it was a gentle, 
 harmless fancy, and was not, I think, altogether rejected 
 by the old people. A certain large, patriarchal, bountiful 
 manner, of late visible in Daddy, and the increase of much 
 white hair and beard, kept up the poetic allusion, while 
 Mammy, day by day, grew more and more like somebody's 
 fairy godmother. An attempt was made by a rival camp 
 to emulate these paying virtues of reverence, and an aged 
 mariner was procured from the Sailor's Snug Harbor in 
 San Francisco on trial. But the unfortunate seaman was 
 more or less diseased, was not always presentable, through 
 a weakness for ardent spirits, and finally, to use the power- 
 ful idiom of one of his disappointed foster-children, " up 
 and died in a week, without slinging ary blessin'." 
 
 But vicissitude reaches young and old alike. Youthful 
 Rough-and-Ready and the Saints had climbed to their 
 meridian together, and it seemed fit that they should to- 
 gether decline. The first shadow fell with the immigration 
 to Rough-and-Ready of a second aged pair. The land- 
 lady of the Independence Hotel had not abated her male- 
 volence towards the Saints, and had imported at consider
 
 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 369 
 
 able expense her grand-aunt and grand-uncle, who had 
 been enjoying for some years a sequestered retirement in 
 the poorhouse at East Machias. They were indeed very 
 old. By what miracle, even as anatomical specimens, they 
 had been preserved during their long journey, was a mys- 
 tery to the camp. In some respects they had superior 
 memories and reminiscences. The old man Abner Trix 
 had shouldered a musket in the war of 1812 ; his wife, 
 Abigail, had seen Lady Washington. She could sing 
 hymns ; he knew every text between " the leds " of a 
 Bible. There is little doubt but that in many respects, to 
 the superficial and giddy crowd of youthful spectators, they 
 were the more interesting spectacle. 
 
 Whether it was jealousy, distrust, or timidity that over- 
 came the Saints, was never known, but they studiously 
 declined to meet the strangers. When directly approached 
 upon the subject, Daddy Downey pleaded illness, kept him- 
 self in close seclusion, and the Sunday that the Trixes 
 attended church in the schoolhouse on the hill, the triumph 
 of the Trix party was mitigated by the fact that the 
 Downeys were not in their accustomed pew. " You bet 
 that Daddy and Mammy is lying low jest to ketch them 
 old mummies yet,"- explained a Downey ite. For by this 
 time schism and division had crept into the camp ; the 
 younger and later members of the settlement adhering to 
 the Trixes, while the older pioneers stood not only loyal 
 to their own favorites, but even, in the true spirit of par- 
 tisanship, began to seek for a principle underlying their 
 personal feelings. " I tell ye what, boys," observed Sweet- 
 water Joe, " if this yer camp is goin' to be run by green- 
 horns, and old pioneers, like Daddy and the rest of us, 
 must take back seats, it 's time we emigrated and shoved 
 out, and tuk Daddy with us. Why, they 're talkin' of rota- 
 tion in offiss, and of putting that skeleton that Ma'am 
 Decker sets up at the table to take her boarders' appetites
 
 370 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 
 
 away, into the post-office in place o' Daddy." And, indeed, 
 there were some fears of such a conclusion ; the newer men 
 of Rough-and-Ready were -in the majority, and wielded a 
 more than equal influence of wealth and outside enterprise. 
 " Frisco," as a Downeyite bitterly remarked, " already 
 owned half the town." The old friends that rallied around 
 Daddy and Mammy were, like most loyal friends in adver- 
 sity, in bad case themselves, and were beginning to look 
 and act, it was observed, not unlike their old favorites. 
 
 At this juncture Mammy died. 
 
 The sudden blow for a few days seemed to reunite dis- 
 severed Eough-and-Ready. Both factions hastened to the 
 bereaved Daddy with condolements, and offers of aid and 
 assistance. But the old man received them sternly. A 
 change had come over the weak and yielding octogenarian. 
 Those who expected to find him maudlin, helpless, disconso- 
 late, shrank from the cold, hard eyes and truculent voice 
 that bade them " begone," and " leave him with his dead." 
 Even his own friends failed to make him respond to their 
 sympathy, and were fain to content themselves with his cold 
 intimation that both the wishes of his dead wife and his 
 own instincts were against any display, or the reception 
 of any favor from the camp that might tend to keep up 
 the divisions they had innocently created. The refusal of 
 Daddy to accept any service offered was so unlike him as 
 to have but one dreadful meaning ! The sudden shock 
 had turned his brain ! Yet so impressed were they with his 
 resolution that they permitted him to perform the last sad 
 offices himself, and only a select few of his nearer neighbors 
 assisted him in carrying the plain deal coffin from his lonely 
 cabin in the woods to the still lonelier cemetery on the hill- 
 top. When the shallow grave was filled, he dismissed even 
 these curtly, shut himself up in his cabin, and for days re- 
 mained unseen. It was evident that he was no longer in 
 his right mind.
 
 TWO SAIXTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 371 
 
 His harmless aberration was accepted and treated with 
 a degree of intelligent delicacy hardly to be believed of so 
 rough a community. During his wife's sudden and severe 
 illness, the safe containing the funds intrusted to his care 
 by the various benevolent associations was broken into and 
 robbed, and although the act was clearly attributable to his 
 carelessness and preoccupation, all allusion to the fact was 
 withheld from him in his severe affliction. When he 
 appeared again before the camp, and the circumstances 
 were considerately explained to him, with the remark that 
 " the boys had made it all right," the vacant, hopeless, 
 unintelligent eye that he turned upon the speaker showed 
 too plainly that he had forgotten all about it. " Don't 
 trouble the old man," said Whiskey Dick, with a burst of 
 honest poetry. " Don't ye see his memory 's dead, and 
 lying there in the coffin with Mammy ? " Perhaps the 
 speaker was nearer right than he imagined. 
 
 Failing in religious consolation, they took various means 
 of diverting his mind with worldly amusements, and one 
 was a visit to a traveling variety troupe, then performing 
 in the town. The result of the visit was briefly told by 
 Whiskey Dick. " Well, sir, we went in, and I sot the old 
 man down in a front seat, and kinder propped him up with 
 some other of the fellers round him, and there he sot as 
 silent and awful ez the grave. And then that fancy dancer, 
 Miss Grace Somerset, comes in, and dern my skin, ef the 
 old man did n't get to trembling and fidgeting all over, as 
 she cut them pidgin wings. I tell ye what, boys, men is 
 men, way down to their boots, whether they 're crazy or 
 not ! Well, he took on so, that I 'm blamed if at last that 
 gal herself did n't notice him ! and she ups, suddenly, and 
 blows him a kiss so ! with her fingers ! " 
 
 Whether this narration were exaggerated or not, it is 
 certain that the old man Downey every succeeding night of 
 the performance was a spectator. That he may have aspired
 
 372 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 
 
 to more than that was suggested a day or two later in the 
 following incident : A number of the bo} r s were sitting 
 around the stove in the Magnolia saloon, listening to the 
 onset of a winter storm against the windows, when Whiskey 
 Dick, tremulous, excited, and bristling with rain-drops and 
 information, broke in upon them. 
 
 "Well, boys, I 've got just the biggest thing out. Ef I 
 had n't seed it myself, I would n't hev believed it ! " 
 
 " It ara't thet ghost ag'in ? " growled Eobinson, from 
 the depths of his arm-chair ; " thet ghost.'s about played." 
 
 " Wot ghost ? " asked a new-comer. 
 
 " Why, ole Mammy's ghost, that every feller about yer 
 sees when he 's half full and out late o' nights." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " Where ? Why, where should a ghost be ? Mean- 
 derin' round her grave on the hill, yander, in course." 
 
 " It 's suthin bigger nor thet, pard," said Dick confi- 
 dently ; " no ghost kin rake down the pot ag'in the keerds 
 I 've got here. This ain't no bluff! " 
 
 " Well, go on ! " said a dozen excited voices. 
 
 Dick paused a moment diffidently, with the hesitation of 
 an artistic raconteur. 
 
 " Well," he said, with affected deliberation, " let 's see ! 
 It 's nigh onto an hour ago ez I was down thar at the vari- 
 ety show. When the curtain was down betwixt the ax, I 
 looks round fer Daddy. No Daddy thar ! I goes out and 
 asks some o' the boys. ' Daddy was there a minnit ago,' 
 they say ; ' must hev gone home.' Bein' kinder responsible 
 for the old man, I hangs around, and goes out in the hall 
 and sees a passage leadin' behind the scenes. Now the 
 queer thing about this, boys, ez that suthin in my bones 
 tells me the old man is thar. I pushes in, and, sure as a 
 gun, I hear his voice. Kinder pathetic, kinder pleadin', 
 kinder " 
 
 " Love-makin' ! " broke in the impatient Eobinson.
 
 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 373 
 
 " You 've hit it, pard, you 've rung the bell every time ! 
 
 But she says, ' I want thet money down, or I'll ' and here 
 
 I could n't get to hear the rest. And then he kinder coaxes, 
 and she says, sorter sassy, but listenin' all the time, woman 
 like, ye know, Eve and the sarpint ! and she says, 'I'll 
 see to-morrow.' And he says, ' You won't blow on me ? ' 
 and I gets excited and peeps in, and may I be teetotally 
 durned ef I didn't see " 
 
 " What ? " yelled the crowd. 
 
 " Why, Daddy on his knees to that there fancy dancer, 
 Grace Somerset ! Now, if Mammy's Ghost is meanderin' 
 round, why, et 's about time she left the cemetery and put 
 in an appearance in Jackson's Hall. Thet 's all ! " 
 
 " Look yar, boys," said Robinson, rising, " I don't know 
 ez it 's the sqxiare thing to spile Daddy's fun. I don't object 
 to it, provided she ain't takin' in the old man, and givin' 
 him dead away. But ez we 're his guardeens, I propose that 
 we go down thar and see the lady, and find out ef her inten- 
 tions is honorable. If she means marry, and the old man 
 persists, why, I reckon we kin give the young couple a send- 
 off thet won't disgrace this yer camp ! Hey, boys ? " 
 
 It is unnecessary to say that the proposition was received 
 with acclamation, and that the crowd at once departed on 
 their discreet mission. But the result was never known, for 
 the next morning brought a shock to Rough-and-Ready 
 before which all other interests paled to nothingness. 
 
 The grave of Mammy Downey was found violated and 
 despoiled ; the coffin opened, and half filled with the papers 
 and accounts of the robbed benevolent associations ; but 
 the body of Mammy was gone ! Nor, on examination, did 
 it appear that the sacred and ancient form of that female 
 had ever reposed in its recesses ! 
 
 Daddy Downey was not to be found, nor is it necessary 
 to say that the ingenuous Grace Somerset was also missing. 
 
 For three days the reason of Rough-and-Ready trembled
 
 874 TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS 
 
 
 
 in the balance. No work was done in the ditches, in the 
 flume, nor in the mills. Groups of men stood by the grave 
 of the lamented relict of Daddy Downey, as open-mouthed 
 and vacant as that sepulchre. Never since the great earth- 
 quake of '52 had Kough-and-Ready been so stirred to its 
 deepest foundations. 
 
 On the third day the sheriff of Calaveras a qniet, 
 gentle, thoughtful man arrived in town, and passed from 
 one to the other of excited groups, dropping here and there 
 detached but concise and practical information. 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen, you are right ; Mrs. Downey is not 
 dead, because there was n't any Mrs. Downey ! Her part 
 was played by George F. Fen wick, of Sydney, a ' ticket- 
 of-leave-man,' who was, they say, a good actor. Downey ? 
 Oh yes ! Downey was Jem Flanigan, who, in '52, used to 
 run the variety troupe in Australia, where Miss Somerset 
 made her debut. Stand back a little, boys. Steady ! The 
 money ? Oh yes, they've got away with that, sure! How 
 are ye, Joe ? Why, you 're looking well and hearty ! I 
 rather expected ye court week. How 's things your way ? " 
 
 "Then they were only play-actors, Joe Hall ?" broke in 
 a dozen voices. 
 
 " I reckon ! " returned the sheriff coolly. 
 
 " And for a matter o' five blank years," said Whiskey 
 Dick sadly, " they played this camp ! "
 
 "WHO WAS MY QUIET FKIEND?" 
 
 " STRANGER ! " 
 
 The voice was not loud, but clear and penetrating. 1 
 looked vainly up and down the narrow, darkening trail. 
 No one in the fringe of alder ahead ; no one on the gullied 
 slope behind. 
 
 " Oh, stranger ! " 
 
 This time a little impatiently. The Californian classical 
 vocative, " Oh," always meant business. 
 
 I looked up, and perceived for the first time on the ledge, 
 thirty feet above me, another trail parallel with my own, 
 and looking down upon me through the buckeye bushes a 
 small man on a black horse. 
 
 Five things to be here noted by the circumspect moun- 
 taineer. First, the locality, lonely and inaccessible, and 
 away from the regular faring of teamsters and miners. 
 Secondly, the stranger's superior knowledge of the road, 
 from the fact that the other trail was unknown to the or- 
 dinary traveler. Thirdly, that he was well armed and 
 equipped. Fourthly, that he was better mounted. Fifthly, 
 that any distrust or timidity arising from the contemplation 
 of these facts had better be kept to one's self. 
 
 All this passed rapidly through my mind as I returned 
 his salutation. 
 
 " Got any tobacco ? " he asked. 
 
 I had, and signified the fact, holding up the pouch in- 
 quiringly. 
 
 " All right, I'll come down. Hide on, and I '11 jine ye 
 on the c i; de."
 
 876 "WHO WAS MY QUIET FRIEND?" 
 
 " The slide ! " Here was a new geographical discovery 
 as odd as the second trail. I had ridden over the trail a 
 dozen times, and seen no communication between the ledge 
 and trail. Nevertheless, I went on a hundred yards or so, 
 when there was a sharp crackling in the underbrush, a 
 shower of stones on the trail, and my friend plunged through 
 the bushes to my side, down a grade that I should scarcely 
 have dared to lead my horse. There was no doubt he was 
 an accomplished rider, another fact to be noted. As he 
 ranged beside me, I found I was not mistaken as to his 
 size ; he was quite under the medium height, and but for 
 a pair of cold, gray eyes, was rather commonplace in feature. 
 
 " You 've got a good horse there," I suggested. 
 
 He was rilling his pipe from my pouch, but looked up a 
 little surprised, and said, "Of course." He then puffed 
 away with the nervous eagerness of a man long deprived of 
 that sedative. Finally, between the puffs, he asked me 
 whence I came. 
 
 I replied, " From Lagrange." 
 
 He looked at me a few moments curiously, but on my 
 adding that I had only halted there for a few hours, he 
 said : " I thought I knew every man between Lagrange and 
 Indian Spring, but somehow I sorter disremember your face 
 and your name." 
 
 Not particularly caring that he should remember either, 
 I replied half laughingly that, as I lived the other side of 
 Indian Spring, it was quite natural. He took the rebuff, if 
 such it was, so quietly that as an act of mere perfunctory 
 politeness I asked him where he came from. 
 
 " Lagrange." 
 
 " And are you going to " 
 
 " Well ! that depends pretty much on how things pan 
 out, and whether I can make the riffle." He let his hand 
 rest quite unconsciously on the leathern holster of his dra- 
 goon revolver, yet with a strong suggestion to me of his
 
 "WHO WAS MY QUIET FRIEND?" 377 
 
 ability " to make the riffle " if he wanted to, and added ; 
 " But just now I was reck'nin' on taking a little pasear 
 with you." 
 
 There was nothing offensive in his speech save its fami- 
 liarity, and the reflection, perhaps, that whether I objected 
 or not, he was quite able to do as he said. I only replied 
 that if our pasear was prolonged beyond Heavytree Hill, I 
 should have to borrow his beast. To my surprise he replied 
 quietly, " That 's so," adding that the horse was at my dis- 
 posal when he was n't using it, and half of it when he was. 
 " Dick has carried double many a time before this," he con- 
 tinued, " and kin do it again ; when your mustang gives 
 out I '11 give you a lift and room to spare." 
 
 I could not help smiling at the idea of appearing before 
 the boys at Red Gulch en croupe with the stranger ; but 
 neither could I help being oddly affected by the suggestion 
 that his horse had done double duty before. " On what 
 occasion, and why ? " was a question I kept to myself. 
 We were ascending the long, rocky flank of the divide ; the 
 narrowness of the trail obliged us to proceed slowly, and in 
 file, so that there was little chance for conversation, had he 
 been disposed to satisfy my curiosity. 
 
 We toiled on in silence, the buckeye giving way to chemi- 
 sal, the westering sun, reflected again from the blank Avails 
 beside us, blinding our eyes with its glare. The pines in 
 the canon below were olive gulfs of heat, over which a hawk 
 here and there drifted lazily, or, rising to our level, cast a 
 weird and gigantic shadow of slowly moving wings on the 
 mountain side. The superiority of the stranger's horse led 
 him often far in advance, and made me hope that he might 
 forget me entirely, or push on, growing weary of waiting. 
 But regularly he would halt by a boulder, or reappear from 
 some chemisal, where he had patiently halted. I was begin- 
 ning to hate him mildly, when at one of those reappearances 
 he drew up to my side, and asked me how I liked Dickens r
 
 578 " WHO WAS MY QUIET FRIEND ? " 
 
 Had he asked my opinion of Huxley or Darwin, I could 
 not have been more astonished. Thinking it were possible 
 that he referred to some local celebrity of Lagrange, I said, 
 hesitatingly : " You mean " 
 
 "Charles Dickens. Of course you 've read him? Which 
 of his books do you like best ? " 
 
 I replied with considerable embarrassment that I liked 
 them all, as I certainly did. 
 
 He grasped my hand for a moment with a fervor quite 
 unlike his usual phlegm and said, " That 's me, old man. 
 Dickens ain't no slouch. You can count on him pretty 
 much all the time." 
 
 With this rough preface, he launched into a criticism of 
 the novelist, which for intelligent sympathy and hearty 
 appreciation I had rarely heard equaled. Not only did he 
 dwell upon the exuberance of his humour, but upon the 
 power of his pathos and the all-pervading element of his 
 poetry. I looked at the man in astonishment. I had con- 
 sidered myself a rather diligent student of the great master 
 of fiction, but the stranger's felicity of quotation and illus- 
 tration staggered me. It is true, that his thought was not 
 always clothed in the best language, and often appeared in 
 the slouching, slangy undress of the place and period, yet 
 it never was rustic nor homespun, and sometimes struck 
 me with its precision and fitness. Considerably softened 
 toward him, I tried him with other literature. But vainly. 
 Beyond a few of the lyrical and emotional poets, he knew 
 nothing. Under the influence and enthusiasm of his own 
 speech, he himself had softened considerably ; offered to 
 change horses with me, readjusted my saddle with profes- 
 sional skill, transferred my pack to his own horse, insisted' 
 upon my sharing the contents of his whiskey flask, and 
 noticing that I was unarmed, pressed upon me a silver- 
 mounted Derringer, which he assured me he could " warrant." 
 These various offices of good will and the diversion of his
 
 "WHO WAS MY QUIET FRIEND?" 379 
 
 talk beguiled me from noticing the fact that the trail was 
 beginning to become obscure and unrecognizable. We were 
 evidently pursuing a route unknown before to me. I 
 pointed out the fact to my companion, a little impatiently. 
 He instantly resumed his old manner and dialect. 
 
 " Well, I reckon one trail 's as good as another, and 
 what hev ye got to say about it ? " 
 
 . I pointed out, with some dignity, that I preferred the old 
 trail. 
 
 " Mebbe you did. But you 're jiss now takin' a pasear 
 with me. This yer trail will bring you right into Indian 
 Spring, and onnoticed, and no questions asked. Don't you 
 mind now, I '11 see you through." 
 
 It was necessary here to make some stand against my 
 strange companion. I said firmly, yet as politely as I 
 could, that I had proposed stopping overnight with a 
 friend. 
 
 " Whar ? " 
 
 I ' hesitated. The friend was an eccentric Eastern man, 
 well known in the locality for his fastidiousness and his 
 habits as a recluse. A misanthrope, of ample family and 
 ample means, he had chosen a secluded but picturesque 
 valley in the Sierras where he could rail against the world 
 without opposition. " Lone Valley," or " Boston Ranch," 
 as it was familiarly called, was the one spot that the average 
 miner both respected and feared. Mr. Sylvester, its pro- 
 prietor, had never affiliated with " the boys," nor had he 
 ever lost their respect by any active opposition to their ideas. 
 If seclusion had been his object, he certainly was gratified. 
 Nevertheless, in the darkening shadows of the night, and 
 on a lonely and unknown trail, I hesitated a little at re- 
 peating his name to a stranger of whom I knew so little. 
 But my mysterious companion took the matter out of my 
 hands. 
 
 " Look yar," he said suddenly, " thar ain't but one place
 
 380 " WHO WAS MY QUIET FRIEND ? " 
 
 'twixt yer and Indian Spring whar ye can stop, and that is 
 Sylvester's." 
 
 I assented, a little sullenly. 
 
 "Well," said the stranger quietly, and with a slight 
 suggestion of conferring a favor on me, " ef yer pointed 
 for Sylvester's why / don't mind stopping thar with 
 ye. It 's a little off the road, I '11 lose some time, hut 
 taking it by and large, I don't much mind." 
 
 I stated, as rapidly and as strongly as I could, that my 
 acquaintance with Mr. Sylvester did not justify the intro- 
 duction of a stranger to his hospitality ; that he was unlike 
 most of the people here ; in short, that he was a queer 
 man, etc., etc. 
 
 To my surprise my companion answered quietly : " Oh, 
 that's all right. I've heerd of him. Ef you don't feel like 
 checking me through, or if you 'd rather put ' C. 0. D. ' on 
 my hack, why, it 's all the same to me. I '11 play it alone. 
 Only you just count me in. Say ' Sylvester ' all the time. 
 That 's me ! " 
 
 What could I oppose to this man's quiet assurance ? I 
 felt myself growing red with anger and nervous with embar- 
 rassment. What would the correct Sylvester say to me ? 
 What would the girls, I was a young man then, and had 
 won an entree to their domestic circle by my reserve, 
 known by a less complimentary adjective among " the 
 boys," what would they say to my new acquaintance ? 
 Yet I certainly could not object to his assuming all risks on 
 his own personal recognizances, nor could I resist a certain 
 feeling of shame at my embarrassment. 
 
 We were beginning to descend. In the distance below 
 us already twinkled the lights in the solitary rancho of 
 Lone Valley. I turned to my companion. " But you 
 have forgotten that I don't even know your name. What 
 am I to call you ? " 
 
 " That 's so," he said, musingly. " Now, let 's see,
 
 "WHO WAS MY QUIET FRIEND?" 381 
 
 'Kearney' would be a good name. It's short and easj 
 like. Thar 's a street in 'Frisco the same title ; Kearuej 
 it is." 
 
 " But " I began impatiently. 
 
 ' Now you leave all that to me," he interrupted, with a 
 superb self-confidence that I could not but admire. " The 
 name ain't no account. It 's the man that 's responsible. 
 Ef I was to lay for a man that I reckoned was named 
 Jones, and after I fetched him I found out on the inquest 
 that his real name was Smith, that would n't make no 
 matter, as long as I got the man." 
 
 The illustration, forcible as it was, did not strike me as 
 offering a prepossessing introduction, but we were already 
 at the rancho. The barking of dogs brought Sylvester to 
 the door of the pretty little cottage which his taste had 
 adorned. 
 
 I briefly introduced Mr. Kearney. " Kearney will do 
 Kearney 's good enough for me," commented the soi-disant 
 Kearney half-aloiul, to my own horror and Sylvester's evi- 
 dent mystification, and then he blandly excused himself 
 for a moment that he might personally supervise the care 
 of his own beast. When he was out of ear-shot I drew the 
 puzzled Sylvester aside. 
 
 " I have picked up I mean I have been picked up on 
 the road by a gentle maniac, whose name is not Kearney. 
 He is well armed and quotes Dickens. AVith care, acquies- 
 cence in his views on all subjects, and general submission 
 to his commands, he may be placated. Doubtless the spec- 
 tacle of your helpless family, the contemplation of your 
 daughter's beauty and innocence, may touch his fine sense 
 of humor and pathos. Meanwhile, Heaven help you, and 
 forgive me." 
 
 I ran up stairs to the little den that my hospitable host 
 had kept always reserved for me in my wanderings. I 
 lingered some time over my ablutions, hearing the languid.
 
 gentlemanly drawl of Sylvester below, mingled with the 
 equally cool, easy slang of my mysterious acquaintance. 
 When I .came down to the sitting-room I was surprised, 
 however, to find the self-styled Kearney quietly seated on 
 the sofa, the gentle May S3 r lvester, the " Lily of Lone 
 Valley," sitting with maidenly awe and unaffected interest 
 on one side of him, while on the other that arrant flirt, her 
 cousin Kate, was practicing the pitiless archery of her eyes, 
 with an excitement that seemed almost real. 
 
 " Who is your deliciously cool friend ? " she managed 
 to whisper to me at supper, as I sat utterly dazed and be- 
 wildered between the "enrapt May Sylvester, who seemed 
 to hang upon his words, and this giddy girl of the period, 
 who was emptying the battery of her charms in active 
 rivalry upon him. " Of course we know his name is n't 
 Kearney. But how romantic ! And is n't he perfectly 
 lovely ? And who is he ? " 
 
 I replied with severe irony that I was not aware what 
 foreign potentate was then traveling incognito in the Sierras 
 of California, but that, when his royal highness was pleased 
 to inform me, I should be glad to introduce him properly. 
 " Until then," I added, " I fear the acquaintance must be 
 Morganatic." 
 
 " You 're only jealous of him," she said pertly. " Look 
 at May, she is completely fascinated. And her father, 
 too." 
 
 And actually the languid, world-sick, cynical Sylvester 
 was regarding him with a boyish interest and enthusiasm 
 almost incompatible with his nature. Yet I submit hon- 
 estly to the clear-headed reason of my own sex, that I 
 could see nothing more in the man than I have already 
 delivered to the reader. 
 
 In the middle of an exciting story of adventure, of which 
 he, to the already prejudiced mind of his fair auditors, was 
 evidently the hero, he stopped suddenly.
 
 " WHO WAS MY QUIET FKIEND ? ' ; 383 
 
 "It's only some pack train passing the bridge on the 
 lower trail," explained Sylvester ; " go on." 
 
 " It may be my horse is a trifle oneasy in the stable," 
 said the alleged Kearney; "he ain't used to boards and 
 covering." Heaven only knows what wild and delicious 
 revelation lay in the statement of this fact, but the girls 
 looked at each other with cheeks pink with excitement as 
 Kearney arose, and with quiet absence of ceremony quitted 
 the table. 
 
 " Ain't he just lovely ? " said Kate, gasping for breath, 
 " and so witty ! " 
 
 " Witty ! " said the gentle May, with just the slight- 
 est trace of defiance in her sweet voice ; ' witty, my dear ? 
 why, don't you see that his heart is just breaking with 
 pathos ? Witty, indeed ; why, when he was speaking of 
 that poor Mexican woman that was hung, I saw the tears 
 gather in his eyes. Witty, indeed ! " 
 
 " Tears," laughed the cynical Sylvester, " tears, idle tears. 
 Why, you silly children, the man is a man of the world, a 
 philosopher, quiet, observant, unassuming." 
 
 " Unassuming ! " Was Sylvester intoxicated, or had the 
 mysterious stranger mixed the " insane verb " with the 
 family pottage? He returned before I could answer this 
 self-asked inquiry, and resumed coolly his broken narrative. 
 Finding myself forgotten in the man I had so long hesitated 
 to introduce to my friends, I retired to rest early, only to 
 hear, through the thin par'Jtions, two hours later, enthusi- 
 astic praises of the new guest from the voluble lips of the 
 girls, as they chatted in the next room before retiring. 
 
 At midnight I was startled by the sound of horses' hoofs 
 and the jingling of spurs below. A conversation between 
 my host and some mysterious personage in the darkness 
 was carried on in such a low tone that I could not learn its 
 import. As the cavalcade rode away I raised the window, 
 
 " W T hat 's the matter ? "
 
 384 " WHO WAS MY QUIET FRIEND ? " 
 
 " Nothing," said Sylvester coolly ; " only another one of 
 those playful homicidal freaks peculiar to the country. A 
 man was shot by Cherokee Jack over at Lagrange this 
 morning, and that was the sheriff of Calaveras and his 
 posse hunting him. I told him I 'd seen nobody but you 
 and your friend. By the way, I hope the cursed noise 
 hasn't disturbed him. The poor fellow looked as if he 
 wanted rest." 
 
 I thought so too. Nevertheless, I went softly to his 
 room. It was empty. My impression was that he had 
 distcd the sheriff of Calaveras about two hours.
 
 "A TOUKIST FEOM INJIANNY" 
 
 WE first saw him from the deck of the Unser Fritz, as 
 that gallant steamer was preparing to leave the port of 
 Xew York for Plymouth, Havre, and Hamburg. Perhaps 
 it was that all objects at that moment became indelibly 
 impressed on the memory of the departing voyager ; per- 
 haps it was that mere interrupting trivialities always as- 
 sume undue magnitude to us when we are waiting for 
 something really important ; but I retain a vivid impres- 
 sion of him as he appeared on the gangway in apparently 
 hopeless, yet, as it afterwards appeared, really triumphant, 
 altercation with the German-speaking deck-hands and stew- 
 ards. He was not an heroic figure. Clad in a worn linen 
 duster, his arms filled with bags and parcels, he might have 
 been taken for a hackman carrying the luggage of his fare. 
 But it was noticeable that, although he calmly persisted 
 in speaking English and ignoring the voluble German of 
 his antagonists, he in some rude fashion accomplished his 
 object, without losing his temper or increasing his tempera- 
 ture, while his foreign enemy was crimson with rage and 
 perspiring with heat ; and that presently, having violated a 
 dozen of the ship's regulations,' he took his place by the 
 side of a very pretty girl, apparently his superior in station, 
 who addressed him as " father." As the great ship swung 
 out into the stream he was still a central figure on our 
 deck, getting into everybody's way, addressing all with 
 equal familiarity, imperturbable to affront or snub, but 
 always doggedly and consistently adhering to one purpose, 
 however trivial or inadequate to the means employed.
 
 386 "A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " 
 
 " You 're sittin' on suthin' o' mine, miss," he began for the 
 third or fourth time to the elegant Miss Montmorris, who 
 was revisiting Europe under high social conditions. " Jist 
 rise up while I get it, 't won't take a minit." Not only 
 was that lady forced to rise, but to make necessary the ris- 
 ing and discomposing of the whole Montmorris party who 
 were congregated around her. The missing " suthin' " was 
 discovered to be a very old and battered newspaper. " It 's 
 the Cincinnatty ' Times,' " he explained, as he quietly took 
 it up, oblivious to the indignant glances of the party. "It 's 
 a little squoshed by your sittin' on it, but it '11 do to re-fer 
 to. It 's got a letter from Payris, showin' the prices o' 
 them thar hotels and rist'rants, and I allowed to my dartei 
 we might want it on the other side. Thar 's one or two 
 French names thar that rather gets me, mebbee your 
 eyes is stronger ; " but here the entire Montmorris party 
 rustled away, leaving him with the paper in one hand 
 the other pointing at the paragraph. JSTot at all discomfited, 
 he glanced at the vacant bench, took possession of it with 
 his hat, " duster," and umbrella, disappeared, and presently 
 appeared again with his daughter, a lank-looking young 
 man, and an angular elderly female, and so replaced the 
 Montmorrises. 
 
 When we were fairly at sea he was missed. A pleasing 
 belief that he had fallen overboard, or had been left behind, 
 was dissipated by his appearance one morning, with his 
 daughter on one arm, and the elderly female before alluded 
 to on the other. The Unser Fritz was rolling heavily at 
 the time, but with his usual awkward pertinacity he insisted 
 upon attempting to walk toward the best part of the deck, 
 as he always did, as if it were a right and a duty. A lurch 
 brought him and his uncertain freight in contact with the 
 Montmorrises, there was a moment of wild confusion, two 
 or three seats were emptied, and he finally was led away by 
 the steward, an obviously and obtrusively sick man. But
 
 "A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " 387 
 
 when he had disappeared below it was noticed that he had 
 secured two excellent seats for his female companions. 
 Nobody dared to disturb the elder, nobody cared to disturb 
 the younger, who it may be here recorded had a certain 
 shy reserve which checked aught but the simplest civilities 
 from the male passengers. 
 
 A few days later it was discovered that he was not an 
 inmate of the first, but of the second cabin ; that the 
 elderly female was not his wife, as popularly supposed, but 
 the room-mate of his daughter in the first cabin. These 
 facts made his various intrusions on the saloon deck the 
 more exasperating to the Moritmorrises, yet the more 
 difficult to deal with. Eventually, however, he had, as 
 usual, his own way ; no place was sacred, or debarred 
 his slouched hat and duster. They were turned out of 
 the engine-room to reappear upon the bridge, they were 
 forbidden the forecastle to rise a ghostly presence beside 
 the officer in his solemn supervision of the compass. They 
 would have been lashed to the rigging on their way to the 
 maintop, but for the silent protest of his daughter's presence 
 on the deck. Most of his interrupting familiar conversation 
 was addressed to the interdicted " man at the wheel." 
 
 Hitherto I had contented myself with the fascination of 
 his presence from afar, wisely, perhaps, deeming it dan- 
 gerous to a true picturesque perspective to alter my dis- 
 tance, and perhaps, like the best of us, I fear, preferring 
 to keep my own idea of him than to run the risk of alter- 
 ing it by a closer acquaintance. But one day when I was 
 lounging by the stern rail, idly watching the dogged ostenta- 
 tion of the screw, that had been steadily intimating, after 
 the fashion of screws, that it was the only thing in the 
 ship with a persistent purpose, the ominous shadow of the 
 slouched hat and the trailing duster fell upon me. There 
 was nothing to do but accept it meekly. Indeed, my 
 theory of the man made ine helpless.
 
 888 "A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " 
 
 " I did n't know till yesterday who you be," he began 
 deliberately, " or I should n't hev' been so onsocial. But 
 I 've allers told my darter that in permiskiss trav'lin' a man 
 oughter be keerful of who he meets. I 've read some of 
 your writin's, read 'em in a paper in Injianny, but I 
 never reckoned I 'd meet ye. Things is queer, and trav'lin' 
 brings all sorter people together. My darter Looeze sus- 
 pected ye from the first, and she worried over it, and kinder 
 put me up to this." 
 
 The most delicate flattery could not have done more. 
 To have been in the thought of this reserved, gentle girl, 
 who scarcely seemed to notice even those who had paid her 
 attention, was 
 
 "She put me up to it," he continued calmly, "though 
 she, herself, hez a kind o' pre-judise again you and your 
 writin's, thinkin' them sort o' low down, and the folks 
 talked about not in her style ; and ye know that 's woman's 
 nater, and she and Miss Montmorris agree on that point. 
 But thar 's a few friends with me round yer ez would like 
 to see ye." He stepped aside and a dozen men appeared 
 in Indian file from behind the round-house, and, with a 
 solemnity known only to the Anglo-Saxon nature, shook 
 my. hand deliberately, and then dispersed themselves in 
 various serious attitudes against the railings. They were 
 honest, well-meaning countrymen of mine, but I could not 
 recall a single face. 
 
 There was a dead silence ; the screw, however, osten- 
 tatiously went on. " You see what I told you," it said. 
 " This is all vapidity and trifling. I 'm the only fellow 
 here with a purpose. Whiz, whiz, whiz ; chug, chug, 
 chug ! " 
 
 I was about to make some remark of a general nature, 
 when I was greatly relieved to observe my companion's 
 friends detach themselves from the railings, and, with a 
 slight bow and another shake of the hand, severally retire.
 
 "A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " 38" 
 
 apparently as much relieved as myself. My companion, who 
 had in the mean time acted as if he had discharged himself 
 of a duty, said, " Thar oilers must be some one to tend to 
 this kind o' thing, or thar 's no sociableness. I took a 
 deppytation into the cap'n's room yesterday to make some 
 proppysitions, and thar 's a minister of the Gospel aboard ez 
 orter be spoke to afore next Sunday, and I reckon it 's my 
 dooty, onless," he added with deliberate and formal polite- 
 ness, " you 'd prefer to do it, bein' so to speak a public 
 man." 
 
 But the public man hastily deprecated any interference 
 with the speaker's functions, and to change the conversation 
 remarked that he had heard that there were a party of 
 Cook's tourists on board, and were not the preceding 
 gentlemen of the number ? But the question caused the 
 speaker to lay aside his hat, take a comfortable position on 
 the deck, against the rail, and, drawing his knees up under 
 his chin, to begin as follows : 
 
 " Speaking o' Cook and Cook's tourists, I 'm my own 
 Cook ! I reckon I calkilate and know every cent that I '11 
 spend 'twixt Evansville, Injianny, and Rome and Naples, 
 and everything I '11 see." He paused a moment, and, lay- 
 ing his hand familiarly on my knee, said, " Did I ever tell 
 ye how I kern to go abroad ? " 
 
 As we had never spoken together before, it was safe to 
 reply that he had not. He rubbed his head softly with 
 his hand, knitted his iron-gray brows, and then said medi- 
 tatively, " No ! it must hev been that head waiter. He 
 sorter favors you in the musstache and gen'ral get up. I 
 guess it war him I spoke to." 
 
 I thought it must have been. 
 
 " Well, then, this is the way it kem about. I was sittin' 
 one night, about three months ago, with my darter Looeze, 
 my wife bein' dead some four year, and I was reading 
 to her out of th paper about the Exposition. She sez to
 
 390 "A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " 
 
 me, quiet-like, she 's a quiet sort o' gal if you ever notissed 
 her, ' I should like to go thar ; ' I looks at her, it was 
 the first time sense her mother died that that gal had ever 
 asked for anything, or had, so to speak, a wish. It was n't 
 her way. She took everything ez it kem, and durn my 
 skin ef I ever could tell whether she ever wanted it to kem 
 in any other way. I never told ye this afore, did I ? " 
 
 " No," I said hastily. " Go on." 
 
 He felt his knees for a moment, and then drew a long 
 breath. " Perhaps," he began deliberately, " ye don't know 
 that I'm a poor man. Seein' me here among these rich 
 folks, goin' abroad to Paree with the best o' them, and 
 Looeze thar in the first cabin a lady, ez she is ye 
 would n't b'leeve it, but I 'm poor ! I am. Well, sir, 
 when that gal looks up at me and sez that, I had n't but 
 twelve dollars in my pocket, and I ain't the durned fool that 
 I look, but suthin' in me suthiri', you know, away 
 back in me sez, You shall ! Loo-ey, you shall ! and 
 then I sez, repeatin' it, and looking up right in her eyes, 
 ' You shall go, Loo-ey ' did you ever look in my gal's 
 eyes ? " 
 
 I parried that somewhat direct question by another, " But 
 the twelve dollars, how did you increase that ? " 
 
 " I raised it to two hundred and fifty dollars. I got odd 
 jobs o' work here and there, overtime I'm a machinist 
 1 used to keep this yer over-work from Loo saying I had. 
 to see men in the evenin' to get p'ints about Europe and 
 that and getting a little money raised on my life insur- 
 ance I shoved her through. And here we is, chipper and 
 first class all through that is, Loo is ! " 
 
 " But two hundred and fifty dollars ! And Rome and 
 Naples and return ? You can't do it." 
 
 He looked at me cunningly a moment. " Can't do it ? 
 [ 've done it ! " 
 
 S( Done it ? "
 
 "A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " 391 
 
 "Wai, about the same, I reckon: I've figgered it out. 
 Figgers don't lie. I ain't no Cook's tourist: I kin see 
 Cook and give him p'ints. I tell you I 've figgered it out 
 to a cent, and I 've money to spare. Of course I don't 
 reckon to travel with Loo. She '11 go first class. But I '11 
 be near her if it 's in the steerage of a ship, or in the 
 baggage car of a railroad. I don't need much in the way 
 of grub or clothes, and now and then I kin pick up a job. 
 Perhaps you disremember that row I had down in the 
 engine-room, when they chucked me out of it ? " 
 
 I could not help looking at him with astonishment ; 
 there was evidently only a pleasant memory in his mind. 
 Yet I recalled that I had felt indignant for him and his 
 daughter. 
 
 " Well, that derned fool of a Dutchman, that chief 
 engineer, gives me a job the other day. And ef I had n't 
 just forced my way down there, and talked sassy at him, 
 and criticised his macheen, he 'd hev never knowed I 
 knowed a eccentric from a wagon wheel. Do you see the 
 p'int ? " 
 
 I thought I began to see. But I could not help asking 
 what his daughter thought of his traveling in this inferior 
 way. 
 
 He laughed. " When I was gettin' up some p'ints from 
 them books of travel I read her a proverb or saying outer 
 one o' them, that 'only princes and fools and Americans 
 traveled first^class.' You see I told her it didn't say 
 ' women,' for they naterally would ride first-class and 
 Amerikan gals being princesses, did 'nt count. Don' you 
 see?" 
 
 If I did not quite follow his logic, nor see my way 
 clearly into his daughter's acquiescence through this speech, 
 some light may be thrown upon it by his next utterance. 
 I had risen with some vague words of congratulation on his 
 success, and was about to leave him, when he called me back.
 
 392 "A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " 
 
 " Did I tell ye," he said, cautiously looking around, yet 
 with a smile of stifled enjoyment in his face, " did I tell 
 ye what that gal my darter said to me ? No, I did 'nt 
 tell ye nor no one else afore. Come here ! " 
 
 He made me draw down closely into the shadow and 
 secrecy of the round-house. 
 
 " That night that I told my gal she should go ahroad, 
 I sez to her auite chipper-like and free, ' I say, Looey/ 
 sez I, ' ye '11 be goin' for to marry some o' them counts 
 or dukes, or poten-tates, I reckon, and ye '11 leave the old 
 man.' And she sez, sez she, lookin' me squar in the eye 
 did ye ever notiss that gal's eye ? " 
 
 " She has fine eyes," I replied cautiously. 
 
 " They is ez clean as a fresh milk-pan and ez bright. 
 Nothin' sticks to r em. Eh ? " 
 
 " You are right." 
 
 " Well, she looks up at me this way," here he achieved 
 a vile imitation of his daughter's modest glance, not at all 
 like her, " and, looking at me, she sez quietly, ' That 's 
 what I 'm goin' for, and to improve my mind.' He ! he ! 
 he ! It 's a fack ! To marry a nobleman, and im-prove 
 her mind ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
 The evident enjoyment that he took in this, and the 
 quiet ignoring of anything of a moral quality in his 
 daughter's sentiments, or in his thus confiding them to a 
 stranger's ear, again upset all my theories. I may say here 
 that it is one of the evidences of original character that it 
 is apt to baffle all prognosis from a mere observer's stand- 
 point. But I recalled it some months after. 
 
 We parted in England. It is not necessary, in this brief 
 chronicle, to repeat the various stories of " Uncle Joshua," 
 as the younger and more frivolous of our passengers called 
 him, nor that two thirds of the stories repeated were utterly 
 at variance with my estimate of the character of the man, 
 although I may add that I was also doubtful of the accuracy
 
 "A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " Sp? 
 
 of my own estimate. But one quality was always dominant, 
 his resistless, dogged pertinacity and calm imperturba- 
 bility ! " He asked Miss Montmorris if she * minded ' 
 singin' a little in the second cabin to liven it up, and added, 
 as an inducement, that they did n't know good music from 
 bad," said Jack Walker to me. " And when he mended 
 the broken lock of my trunk, he absolutely propothed to 
 me to athk couthin Grath if thee did n't want a ' koorier ' 
 to travel with her to ' do mechanics,' provided thee would 
 take charge of that dreadfully deaf-and-dumb daughter of 
 his. Wath n't it funny ? Really he 'th one of your char- 
 acters," said the youngest Miss Montmorris to me as we 
 made our adieu on the steamer. 
 
 I am afraid he was not, although he was good enough 
 afterwards to establish one or two of my theories regarding 
 him. I was enabled to assist him once in an altercation he 
 had with a cabman regarding the fare of his daughter, the 
 cabman retaining a distinct impression that the father had 
 also ridden in some obscure way in or upon the same cab, 
 as he undoubtedly had, and, I grieve to say, foolishly. 
 I heard that he had forced his way into a certain great 
 house in England, and that he was ignominiously ejected, 
 but I also heard that ample apologies had been made to 
 a certain quiet, modest daughter of his who was without 
 on the lawn, and that also a certain Personage, whom I 
 approach, even in this vague way, with a capital letter, had 
 graciously taken a fancy to the poor child, and had invited 
 her to a reception. 
 
 But this is only hearsay evidence. So also is the story 
 which met me in Paris, that he had been up with his 
 daughter in the captive balloon, and that at an elevation of 
 several thousand feet from the earth he had made some 
 remarks upon the attaching cable and the drum on which 
 the cable revolved, which not only excited the interest of 
 the passengers, but attracted the attention of the authorities,
 
 394 "A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " 
 
 so that he was not only given a gratuitous ascent afterwards, 
 but was, I am told, offered some gratuity. But I shall 
 restrict this narrative to the few facts of which I was person- 
 ally cognizant in the career of this remarkable man. 
 
 I was at a certain entertainment given in Paris by the 
 heirs, executors, and assignees of an admirable man, long 
 since gathered to his fathers in Pere la Chaise, but whose 
 Shakespeare-like bust still looks calmly and benevolently 
 down on the riotous revelry of absurd wickedness of which 
 he was, when living, the patron saint. The entertainment 
 was of such a character that, while the performers were 
 chiefly women, a majority of the spectators were men. The 
 few exceptions were foreigners, and among them I quickly 
 recognized my fair fellow-countrywomen, the Montmorrises. 
 " Don't thay that you 've theen us here," said the young- 
 est Miss Montmorris, "for ith only a lark. Ith awfully 
 funny ! And that friend of yourth from Injianny ith here 
 with hith daughter." It did not take me long to find my 
 friend " Uncle Joshua's " serious, practical, unsympathetic 
 face in the front row of tables and benches. But beside 
 him, to my utter consternation, was his shy and modest 
 daughter. In another moment I was at his side. " I 
 really think I am afraid," I began in a whisper, " that 
 you have made a mistake. I don't think you can be aware 
 of the character of this place. Your daughter " 
 
 " Kem here with Miss Montmorris. She 's yer. It ; s 
 all right." 
 
 I was at my wits' end. Happily, at this moment Mdlle. 
 Eochefort from the Orangerie skipped out in the quadrille 
 immediately before us, caught her light skirts in either 
 hand, and executed a pas that lifted the hat from the eyes 
 of some of the front spectators and pulled it down over the 
 eyes of others. The Montmorrises fluttered away with a 
 half -hysterical giggle and a half-confounded escort. The 
 modest-looking Miss Loo, who had been staring at every
 
 "A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " 395 
 
 thing quite indifferently, suddenly stepped forward, took 
 her father's arm, and said sharply, " Come." 
 
 At this moment, a voice in English, but unmistakably 
 belonging to the politest nation in the world, rose from 
 behind the girl, mimickingly. " My God ! it is sch'ocking. 
 I bloosh ! dammit ! " 
 
 In an instant he was in the hands of " Uncle Joshua," 
 and forced back clamoring against the railing, his hat 
 smashed over his foolish, furious face, and half his shirt 
 and cravat in the old man's strong grip. Several students 
 rushed to the rescue of their compatriot, but one or two 
 Englishmen and half a dozen Americans had managed in 
 some mysterious way to bound into the arena. I looked 
 hurriedly for Miss Louise, but she was gone. When we 
 had extricated the old man from the melee, I asked him 
 where she was. 
 
 " Oh, I reckon she 's gone off with Sir Arthur. I saw 
 him here just as I pitched into that derned fool." 
 
 "Sir Arthur?" Tasked. 
 
 "Yes, an acquaintance o' Loo's." 
 
 " She 's in my carriage, just outside," interrupted a hand- 
 some young fellow, with the shoulders of a giant and the 
 blushes of a girl. " It 's all over now, you know. It was 
 rather a foolish lark, you coming here with her without 
 knowing you know anything about it, you know. But 
 this way thank you. She 's waiting for you," and in 
 another instant he and the old man had vanished. 
 
 Nor did I see him again until he stepped into the rail- 
 way carriage with me on his way to Liverpool. " You see 
 I 'm trav'lin' first-class now," he said, " but goin' home I 
 don't mind a trifle extry expense." 
 
 "Then you've made your tour," I asked, "and are suc- 
 jessful?" 
 
 " Wall, yes, we saw Switzerland and Italy, and if I 
 bed n't been short o' time we 'd hev gone to Egypt.
 
 396 "A TOURIST FROM INJIANNY " 
 
 Mebbee next winter I '11 run over again to see Loo,, and 
 do it." 
 
 "Then your daughter does not return with you?" I 
 continued in some astonishment. 
 
 " Wall, no ; she 's visiting some of Sir Arthur's relatives 
 in Kent, Sir Arthur is there perhaps you recollect 
 him ?" He paused a moment, looked cautiously around, 
 and, with the same enjoyment he had shown on shipboard, 
 said, " Do you remember the joke I told you on Loo, when 
 she was at sea ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Well, don't ye say anything about it now. But dem 
 my skin, if it dqes n't look like coming true," 
 
 And it did.
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FOEKS 
 
 HE lived alone. I do not think this peculiarity arose 
 from any wish to withdraw his foolishness from the rest of 
 the camp, nor was it probable that the combined wisdom 
 of Five Forks ever drove him into exile. My impression is, 
 that he lived alone from choice, a choice he made long 
 before the camp indulged in any criticism of his mental 
 capacity. He was much given to moody reticence, and, 
 although to outward appearances a strong man, was always 
 complaining of ill-health. Indeed, one theory of his iso- 
 lation was that it afforded him better opportunities for 
 taking medicine, of which he habitually consumed large 
 quantities. 
 
 His folly first dawned upon Five Forks through the Post 
 Office windows. He was for a long time the only man who 
 wrote home by every mail, his letters being always directed 
 to the same person, a woman. Now it so happened that 
 the bulk of the Five Forks' correspondence was usually the 
 other way ; there were many letters received the majority 
 being in the female hand but very few answered. 
 
 The men received them indifferently, or as a matter of 
 Bourse ; a few opened and read them on the spot with 
 a barely repressed smile of self-conceit, or quite as fre- 
 quently glanced over them with undisguised impatience. 
 Some of the letters began with " My dear husband," and 
 some were never called for. But the fact that the only 
 regular correspondent of Five Forks never received any 
 reply became at last quite notorious. Consequently, when 
 an envelope was received bearing the stamp of the " Dead
 
 398 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 
 
 Letter Office," addressed to the Fool under the more con- 
 ventional title of " Cyrus Hawkins," there was quite a 
 fever of excitement. I do not know how the secret leaked 
 out, but it was eventually known to the camp that the 
 envelope contained Hawkins' own letters returned. This 
 was the first evidence of his weakness ; any man who re- 
 peatedly wrote to a woman who did not reply must be a 
 fool. I think Hawkins suspected that his folly was known 
 to the camp, but he took refuge in symptoms of chills and 
 fever, which he at once developed, and effected a diversion 
 with three bottles of Indian cholagogue and two boxes of 
 pills. At all events, at the end of a week he resumed a 
 pen, stiffened by tonics, with all his old epistolatory perti- 
 nacity. This time the letters had a new address. 
 
 In those days a popular belief obtained in the mines 
 that Luck particularly favored the foolish and unscientific. 
 Consequently, when Hawkins struck a " pocket. " in the 
 nillside near his solitary cabin, there was but little surprise'. 
 "He will sink it all in the next hole," was the prevail- 
 ing belief, predicted upon the usual manner in which the 
 possessor of " nigger luck " disposed of his fortune. To 
 everybody's astonishment, Hawkins, after taking out about 
 eight thousand dollars and exhausting the pocket, did not 
 prospect for another. The camp then waited patiently to 
 see what he would do with his money. I think, however, 
 that it was with the greatest difficulty their indignation was 
 &ept from taking the form of a personal assault when it 
 became known that he had purchased a draft for eight 
 thousand dollars in favor of "that woman." More than 
 this, it was finally whispered that ,the draft was returned to 
 him as his letters had been, and that he was ashamed to 
 reclaim the money at the express office. . " It would n't be 
 a bad speckilation to go East, get some smart gal for a 
 hundred dollars to dress herself up and represent that hag, 
 and jest freeze on to that eight thousand," suggested a far-
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 399 
 
 seeing financier. I may state here that we always alluded 
 to Hawkins' fair unknown as " The Hag," without having. 
 I am confident, the least justification for that epithet. 
 
 That the Fool should gamble seemed eminently fit and 
 proper. That he should occasionally win a large stake, 
 according to that popular theory which I have recorded in 
 the preceding paragraph, appeared also a not improbable 
 or inconsistent fact. That he should, however, break the 
 faro bank which Mr. John Hamlin had set up in Five 
 Forks, and carry off a sum variously estimated at from ten 
 to twenty thousand dollars, and not return the next day 
 and lose the money at the same table, really appeared in- 
 credible. Yet such was the fact. A day or two passed 
 without any known investment of Mr. Hawkins' recently 
 acquired capital. " Ef he allows to send it to that Hag," 
 said one prominent citizen, " suthin' ought to be done ! It 's 
 jest ruinin' the reputation of this yer camp this sloshin' 
 around o' capital on non-residents ez don't claim it ! " " It 's 
 settin' an example o' extravagance," said another, " ez is 
 little better nor a swindle. Thar 's more 'n five men in this 
 camp thet, hearin' thet Hawkins had sent home eight 
 thousand dollars, must jest rise up and send home their 
 hard earnings, too ! And then to think thet that eight 
 thousand was only a bluff, after all, and thet it 's lyin' there 
 on call in Adams & Co.'s bank ! Well ! I say it 's one o' 
 them things a vigilance committee oughter look into ! " 
 
 When there seemed no possibility of this repetition of 
 Hawkins' folly, the anxiety to know what he had really 
 done with his money became intense. At last a self- 
 appointed committee of four citizens dropped artfully, but 
 to outward appearances carelessly, upon him in his seclu- 
 sion. When some polite formalities had been exchanged, 
 and some easy vituperation of a backward season offered by 
 each of the parties, Tom Wingate approached the subject : 
 
 " Sorter dropped heavy on Jack Hamlin the other night,
 
 400 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 
 
 did n't ye ? He allows you did n't give him no show for 
 revenge. I said you was n't no such d d fool did n't I, 
 Dick ? " continued the artful Wingate, appealing to a con- 
 federate. 
 
 " Yes," said Dick promptly. " You said twenty thou- 
 sand dollars was n't goin' to be thrown around recklessly. 
 You said Cyrus had suthin' better to do with his capital," 
 superadded Dick, with gratuitous mendacity. " I disre- 
 member now what partickler investment you said he was 
 goin' to make with it," he continued, appealing with easy 
 indifference to his friend. 
 
 Of course Wingate did not reply, but looked at the 
 Fool Avho with a troubled face was rubbing his legs softly. 
 After a pause he turned deprecatingly toward his visitors. 
 
 " Ye did n't enny of ye ever hev a sort of tremblin' in 
 your legs, a kind o' shakiness from the knee down? 
 Suthin'," he continued, slightly brightening with his topic, 
 " suthin' that begins like chills, and yet ain't chills. A 
 kind o' sensation of goneness here, and a kind o' feelin' 
 as if you might die suddent ! When Wright's Pills don't 
 somehow reach the spot, and Quinine don't fetch you ? " 
 
 " No ! " said Wingate, with a curt directness, and the 
 air of authoritatively responding for his friends. " No, 
 never had. You was speakin' of this yer investment." 
 
 " And your bowels all the time irregular ! " continued 
 Hawkins, blushing under Wingate's eye, and yet clinging 
 despairingly to his theme like a shipwrecked mariner to his 
 plank. 
 
 Wingate did not reply, but glanced significantly at the 
 rest. Hawkins evidently saw this recognition of his mental 
 deficiency, and said apologetically, " You was saying suthin' 
 about my investment ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Wingate, so rapidly as to almost take Haw- 
 kins' breath away, " the investment you made in " 
 
 "Kafferty's Ditch," said the Fool, timidly.
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 401 
 
 For a moment the visitors could only stare blankly at 
 each other. " Rafferty's Ditch," the one notorious failure 
 of Five Forks ! Rafferty's Ditch, the impracticable scheme 
 of an utterly unpractical man ; Rafferty's Ditch, a ridiculous 
 plan for taking water that could not be got to a place where 
 it was n't wanted ! Rafferty's Ditch, that had buried the 
 fortunes of Rafferty and twenty wretched stockholders in 
 its muddy depths ! 
 
 " And thet 's it is it ? " said Wingate, after a gloomy 
 pause. " Thet 's it ! I see it all now, boys. Thet 's how- 
 ragged Pat Rafferty went down to San Francisco yesterday 
 in store clothes, and his wife and four children went off in 
 a kerridge to Sacramento. Thet 's why them ten workmen 
 of his, ez hed 't a cent to bless themselves with, was playin' 
 billiards last night and eatin' isters. Thet's whar that 
 money kurn frum one hundred -dollars to pay for thet 
 long advertisement of the new issue of Ditch stock in the 
 ' Times ' yesterday. Thet 's why them six strangers were 
 booked at the Magnolia Hotel yesterday. Don't you see 
 it 's thet money and thet Fool ! " 
 
 The Fool sat silent. The visitors rose without a word. 
 
 " You never took any of them Indian Vegetable Pills ? " 
 asked Hawkins timidly, of Wingate. 
 
 " No," roared Wingate, as he opened the door. 
 
 " They tell me that took with the Panacea they was 
 out o' the Panacea when I went to the drug store last week 
 
 ^ they say that, took With the Panacea, they always effect 
 
 a certing cure." .But by this time Wingate and his dis- 
 gusted friends had retreated, slamming the door on the Fool 
 and his ailments. 
 
 Nevertheless in six months the whole affair was forgotten, 
 the money had been spent the " Ditch " had been pur- 
 chased by a company of Boston capitalists, fired by the 
 glowing description of an Eastern tourist, who had spent 
 one drunken night at Five Forks and I think even the
 
 402 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 
 
 mental condition of Hawkins might have remained undis- 
 turbed by criticism, but for a singular incident. 
 
 It was during an exciting political campaign, when party 
 feeling ran high, that the irascible Captain McFadden, of 
 Sacramento, visited Five Forks. During a heated discussion 
 in the Prairie Rose Saloon, words passed between the Cap- 
 tain and the Honorable Calhoun Bungstarter, ending in a 
 challenge. The Captain bore the infelix reputation of being 
 a notorious duellist and a dead shot: the Captain was un- 
 popular ; the Captain was believed to have been sent by 
 the opposition for a deadly purpose ; and the Captain was, 
 moreover, a stranger. I am sorry to say that with Five 
 Forks this latter condition did not carry the quality of sanc- 
 tity or reverence that usually obtains among other nomads. 
 There was consequently some little hesitation when the 
 Captain turned upon the crowd and asked for some one to 
 act as his friend. To everybody's astonishment, and to the 
 indignation of many, the Fool stepped forward and offered 
 himself in that capacity. I do not know whether Captain 
 McFadden would have chosen him voluntarily, but he was 
 constrained, in the absence of a better man, to accept his 
 services. 
 
 The duel never took place ! The preliminaries were all 
 arranged, the spot indicated, the men were present with 
 their seconds, there was no interruption from without, there 
 was no explanation or apology passed but the duel did 
 not take place. It may be readily imagined that these facts, 
 which were all known to Five Forks, threw the whole com- 
 munity into a fever of curiosity. The principals, the sur- 
 geon, and one second left town the next day. Only the 
 Fool remained. He resisted all questioning declaring 
 himself held in honor not to divulge - in short, conducted 
 himself with consistent but exasperating folly. It was not 
 until six months had passed that Colonel Starbottle, the 
 second of Calhoun Bungstarter, in a moment of weakness
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 403 
 
 superinduced by the social glass, condescended to explain. 
 I should not do justice to the parties if I did not give that 
 explanation in the Colonel's own words. I may remark, in 
 passing, that the characteristic dignity of Colonel Starbottle 
 always became intensified by stimulants, and that by the 
 same process all sense of humor was utterly eliminated. 
 
 " With the understanding that I am addressing myself 
 confidentially to men of honor," said the Colonel, elevating 
 his chest above the bar-room counter of the Prairie Rose 
 Saloon, " I trust that it will not be necessary for me to pro- 
 tect myself from levity, as I was forced to do in Sacramento 
 on the only other occasion when I entered into an explana- 
 tion of this delicate affair by er er calling the indi- 
 vidual to a personal account er ! I do not believe," 
 added the Colonel, slightly waving his glass of liquor in 
 the air with a graceful gesture of courteous deprecation 
 " knowing what I do of the present company that such 
 a course of action is required here. ' Certainly not Sir 
 in the home of Mr. Hawkins er the gentleman who 
 represented Captain McFadden, whose conduct, ged, Sir, is 
 worthy of praise, blank me ! 
 
 Apparently satisfied with the gravity and respectful atten- 
 tion of his listeners, Colonel Starbottle smiled relentingly 
 and sweetly, closed his eyes half dreamily, as if to recall 
 his wandering thoughts, and began : 
 
 " As the spot selected was nearest the tenement of Mr. 
 Hawkins, it was agreed that the parties should meet there. 
 They did so promptly at half past six. The morning being 
 chilly, Mr. Hawkins extended the hospitalities of his house 
 with a bottle of Bourbon whiskey of which all partook 
 but myself. The reason for that exception is, I believe,, 
 well known. It is my invariable custom to take brandy 
 a wine-glassful in a cup of strong coffee immediately on 
 rising. It stimulates the functions, sir, without producing 
 3iiy blank derangement of the nerves."
 
 404 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 
 
 The barkeeper, to whom, as an expert, the Colonel had 
 graciously imparted this information, nodded approvingly, 
 and the Colonel, amid a breathless silence, went on : 
 
 " We were about twenty minutes in reaching the spot. 
 The ground was measured, the weapons were loaded, when 
 Mr. Bungstarter confided to me the information that he 
 was unwell and in great pain! On consultation with Mr. 
 Hawkins, it appeared that his principal in a distant part of 
 the field was also suffering and in great pain. The symp- 
 toms were such as a medical man would pronounce ' chol- 
 eraic.' I say would have pronounced, for on examination 
 the surgeon was also found to be er in pain, and, I 
 regret to say, expressing himself in language unbecoming 
 the occasion. His impression was that some powerful 
 drug had been administered. On referring the question to 
 Mr. Hawkins, he remembered that the bottle of whiskey 
 partaken by them contained a medicine which he had been 
 in the habit of taking, but which, having failed to act upon 
 him, he had concluded to be generally ineffective, and had 
 forgotten. His perfect willingness to hold himself person- 
 ally responsible to each of the parties, his genuine concern 
 at the disastrous effect of the mistake, mingled with his 
 own alarm at the state of his system, which er failed 
 to er respond to the peculiar qualities of the medicine, 
 was most becoming to him as a man of honor and a gentle- 
 man ! After an hour's delay, both principals being com- 
 pletely exhausted, and abandoned by the surgeon, who was 
 unreasonably alarmed at his own condition, Mr. Hawkins 
 and I agreed to remove our men to Markleville. There, 
 after a further consultation with Mr. Hawkins, an amicable 
 adjustment of all difficulties, honorable to both parties, 
 and governed by profound secrecy, was arranged. I be- 
 lieve," added the Colonel, looking around and setting 
 down his glass, " no gentleman has yet expressed himself 
 other than satisfied with the result,"
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 40o 
 
 Perhaps it was the Colonel's manner, but whatever was 
 the opinion of Five Forks regarding the intellectual display 
 of Mr. Hawkins in this affair, there was very little outspoken 
 criticism at the moment. In a few weeks the whole thing 
 was forgotten, except as part of the necessary record of 
 Hawkins' blunders, which was already a pretty full one. 
 Again some later follies conspired to obliterate the past, 
 until, a year later, a valuable lead was discovered in the 
 " Blazing Star " Tunnel, in the hill where he lived, and a 
 large sum was offered him for a portion of his land on the 
 hill-tap. Accustomed as Five Forks had become to the 
 exhibition of his folly, it was with astonishment that they 
 learned that he resolutely and decidedly refused the offer. 
 The reason that he gave was still more astounding. He 
 was about to build ! 
 
 To build a house upon property available for mining pur- 
 poses was preposterous ; to build at all, with a roof already 
 covering him, was an act of extravagance ; to build a house 
 of the style he proposed was simply madness ! 
 
 Yet here were facts. The plans were made and the 
 lumber for the new building was already on the ground, 
 while the shaft of the " Blazing Star " was being sunk 
 below. The site was, in reality, a very picturesque one, 
 the building itself of a style and quality hitherto unknown 
 in Five Forks. The citizens, at first skeptical, during their 
 moments of recreation and idleness gathered doubtingly 
 about the locality. Day by day, in that climate of rapid 
 growths, the building, pleasantly known in the slang of Five 
 Forks as "the Idiot Asylum," rose beside the green oaks 
 and clustering firs of Hawkins Hill, as if it were part of 
 the natural phenomena. At last it was completed. Then 
 Mr. Hawkins proceeded to furnish it with an expensiveness 
 and extravagance of outlay quite in keeping with his former 
 idiocy. Carpets, sofas, mirrors, and finally a piano the 
 only one known in the county, and brought at great expense
 
 406 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS . ' 
 
 from Sacramento kept curiosity at a fever heat. More 
 than that, there were articles and ornaments which a few 
 married experts declared only fit for women. When the 
 furnishing of the house was complete it had occupied 
 two months of the speculative and curious attention of the 
 camp Mr. Hawkins locked the front door, put the key in 
 his pocket, and quietly retired to his more humhle roof, 
 lower on the hillside ! 
 
 I have not deemed it necessary to indicate to the intelli- 
 gent reader all of the theories which obtained in Five Forks 
 during the erection of the building. Some of them may be 
 readily imagined. That " the Hag " had by artful coyness 
 and systematic reticence at last completely subjugated the 
 Fool, and that the new house was intended for the nuptial 
 bower of the (predestined) unhappy pair, was of course the 
 prevailing opinion. .But when, after a reasonable time had 
 elapsed, and the house still remained untenanted, the more 
 exasperating conviction forced itself upon the general mind 
 that the Fool had been for the third time imposed upon. 
 When two months had elapsed and there seemed no pros- 
 pect of a mistress for the new house, I think public indig- 
 nation became so strong that, had " the Hag " arrived, the 
 marriage would have been publicly prevented. But no one 
 appeared that seemed to answer to this idea of an available 
 tenant, and all inquiry of Mr. Hawkins, as to his intention 
 in building a house and not renting it or occupying it, failed 
 to elicit any further information. The reasons that he gave 
 Avere felt to be vague, evasive, and unsatisfactory. He was 
 in no hurry to move, he said ; when he was ready, it surely 
 was not strange that he should like to have his house all 
 ready to receive him. He was often seen upon the veranda 
 of a summer evening smoking a cigar. It is reported that 
 one night the house was observed to be brilliantly lighted 
 from garret to basement ; that a neighbor, observing this, 
 crept toward the open parlor window, and, looking in,
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 407 
 
 espied the Fool, accurately dressed in evening costume, 
 lounging upon a sofa in the drawing-room, with the easy 
 air of socially entertaining a large party. Notwithstanding 
 this, the house was unmistakably vacant that evening, save 
 for the presence of the owner, as the witnesses afterward 
 testified. When this story was first related, a few practical 
 nen suggested the theory that Mr. Hawkins was simply 
 drilling himself in the elaborate duties of hospitality against 
 a probable event in his history. A few ventured the belief 
 that the house was haunted. The imaginative editor of the 
 Five Forks " Record " evolved from the depths of his pro- 
 fessional consciousness a story that Hawkins' sweetheart 
 had died, and that he regularly entertained her spirit in this 
 beautifully furnished mausoleum. The occasional spectacle 
 of Hawkins' tall figure pacing the veranda on moonlight 
 nights lent some credence to this theory, until an unlooked- 
 for incident diverted all speculation into another channel. 
 
 It was about this time that a certain wild, rude valley, 
 in the neighborhood of Five Forks, had become famous 
 as a picturesque resort. Travelers had visited it, and 
 declared that there were more cubic yards of rough stone 
 cliff, and a waterfall of greater height, than any they had 
 visited. Correspondents had written it up with extrava- 
 gant rhetoric and inordinate poetical quotation. Men and 
 women who had never enjoyed a sunset, a tree, or a flower 
 
 who had never appreciated the graciousness or meaning 
 
 of the yellow sunlight that flecked their homely doorways, 
 or the tenderness of a midsummer's night, to whose moon- 
 light they bared their shirt-sleeves or their tulle dresses 
 
 came from thousands of miles away to calculate the 
 
 height of this rock, to observe the depth of this chasm, to 
 remark upon the enormous size of this unsightly tree, and 
 to believe with ineffable self-complacency that they really 
 admired nature. And so it came to pass that, in accord- 
 ance with the tastes or weaknesses of the individual, the
 
 408 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 
 
 more prominent and salient points of the valley were 
 christened, and there was a " Lace Handkerchief Fall," 
 and the " Tears of Sympathy Cataract," and one distin- 
 guished orator's " Peak," and several " Mounts " of various 
 noted people, living or dead ; and an " Exclamation Point/' 
 and a " Valley of Silent Adoration." And, in course of 
 time, empty soda-water bottles were found at the base of 
 the cataract, and greasy newspapers and fragments of ham 
 sandwiches lay at the dusty roots of giant trees. With this, 
 there were frequent irruptions of closely shaven and tightly 
 cravated men and delicate-faced women in the one long 
 street of Five Forks, and a scampering of mules, and an 
 occasional procession of dusty brown-linen cavalry. 
 
 A year after " Hawkins' Idiot Asylum " was completed, 
 one day there drifted into the valley a riotous cavalcade 
 of " school-marms," teachers of the San Franc'sco public 
 schools, out for a holiday. Not severely-spectacled Miner- 
 vas and chastely armed and mailed Pallases, but, I fear 
 for the security of Five Fork, very human, charming, and 
 mischievous young women. At least, so the men thought, 
 working in the ditches and tunneling on the hillside ; and 
 when, in the interests of Science and the mental advance- 
 ment of Juvenile Posterity, it was finally settled that they 
 should stay in Five Forks two or three days for the sake 
 of visiting the various mines, and particularly the " Blazing 
 Star " Tunnel, there was some flutter of masculine anxiety. 
 There was a considerable inquiry for " store clothes," a 
 hopeless overhauling of old and disused raiment, and a 
 general demand for " boiled shirts " and the barber. 
 
 Meanwhile, with that supreme audacity and impudent 
 hardihood of the sex when gregarious, the school-marms 
 rode through the town, admiring openly the handsome 
 faces and manly figures that looked up from the ditches or 
 rose behind the cars of ore at the mouths of tunnels. 
 Indeed, it is alleged that Jenny Forester, backed and
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 409 
 
 supported by seven other equally shameless young women, 
 had opt nly and publicly waved her handkerchief to the 
 florid Hercules of Five Forks, one Tom Flynn, formerly 
 of Virginia, leaving that good-natured but not over-bright 
 giant pulling his blonde moustaches in bashful amazement. 
 It was a pleasant June afternoon that Miss Nelly Arnot, 
 Principal of the primary department of one of the public 
 schools of San Francisco, having evaded her companions, 
 resolved to put into operation a plan which had lately 
 sprung up in her courageous and mischief-loving fancy. 
 \\ ith that wonderful and mysterious instinct of her sex, 
 from whom no secrets of the affections are hid and to 
 whom all hearts are laid open, she had heard the story of 
 Hawkins' folly and the existence of the "Idiot Asylum." 
 Alone, on Hawkins Hill, she had determined to penetrate 
 its seclusion. Skirting the underbrush at the foot of the 
 hill, she managed to keep the heaviest timber between 
 herself and the " Blazing Star" Tunnel at its base, as well 
 as the cabin of Hawkins, halfway up the ascent, until, by 
 a circuitous route, at last she reached, unobserved, the 
 summit. Before her rose, silent, darkened, and motion- 
 less, the object of her search. Here her courage failed 
 her, with all the characteristic inconsequence of her sex. 
 A sudden fear of all the dangers she had safely passed 
 bears, tarantulas, drunken men, and lizards came upon 
 her. For a moment, as she afterwards expressed it, " she 
 thought she should die." With this belief, probably, she 
 gathered three large stones, which she could hardly lift, for 
 the purpose of throwing a great distance; put two hair- 
 pins in her mouth, and carefully readjusted with both 
 hands two stray braids of her lovely blue-black mane 
 which had fallen in gathering the stones. Then she felt 
 in the pockets of her linen duster for her card-case, hand- 
 kerchief, pocket-book, and smelling-bottle, and, finding 
 them intact, suddenly assumed an air of easy, ladylike
 
 410 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 
 
 unconcern, went up the steps of the veranda, and demurely 
 pulled the front door-hell, which she knew would not be 
 answered. After a decent pause, she walked around the 
 encompassing veranda, examining the closed shutters of .the 
 French windows until she found one that yielded to her 
 touch. Here she paused again to adjust her coquettish 
 hat by the mirror-like surface of the long sash window that 
 reflected the full length of her pretty figure. And then 
 she opened the window and entered the room. 
 
 Although long closed, the house had a smell of newness 
 and of fresh paint that was quite unlike the mouldiness of 
 the conventional haunted house. The bright carpets, the 
 cheerful walls, the glistening oilcloths were quite incon- 
 sistent with the idea of a ghost. With childish curiosity 
 she began to explore the silent house, at first timidly, 
 opening the doors with a violent push, and then stepping 
 back from the threshold to make good a possible retreat, 
 and then more boldly, as she became convinced of her 
 security and absolute loneliness. In one of the chambers, 
 the largest, there were fresh flowers in a vase, evidently 
 gathered that morning ; and, what seemed still more re- 
 markable, the pitchers and ewers were freshly filled with 
 water. This obliged Miss Nelly to notice another singular 
 fact, namely, that the house was free from dust, the one 
 most obtrusive and penetrating visitor of Five Forks. The 
 floors and carpets had been recently swept, the chairs and 
 furniture carefully wiped and dusted. If the house was 
 haunted, it was possessed by a spirit who had none of the 
 usual indifference to decay and mould. And yet the beds 
 had evidently never been slept in, the very springs of the 
 chair in which 'she sat creaked stiffly at the novelty, the 
 closet doors opened with the reluctance of fresh paint and 
 varnish, and, in spite of the warmth, cleanliness, and cheer- 
 fulness of furniture and decoration, there was none of the 
 %ase of tenancy and occupation. As Miss Nelly afterwards
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 411 
 
 confessed, she longed to " tumble things around," and,, 
 when she reached the parlor or drawing-room again, she 
 could hardly resist the desire. Particularly was she tempted 
 by a closed piano that stood mutely against the wall. She 
 thought she would open it just to see who was the maker. 
 That done, it would be no harm to try its tone. She did 
 so, with one little foot on the soft pedal. But Miss Nelly 
 was too good a player, and too enthusiastic a musician, to 
 stop at half measures. She tried it again, this time so 
 sincerely that the whole house seemed to spring into voice. 
 Then she stopped and listened. There was no response, 
 the empty rooms seemed to have relapsed into their old 
 stillness. She stepped out on the veranda ; a woodpecker 
 recommenced his tapping on an adjacent tree, the rattle of 
 a cart in the rocky gulch below the hill came faintly up. 
 No one was to be seen far or near. Miss Nelly, reassured, 
 returned. She again ran her fingers over the keys, 
 stopped, caught at a melody running in her mind, half 
 played it, and then threw away all caution. Before five 
 minutes had elapsed she had entirely forgotten herself, and 
 with her linen duster thrown aside, her straw hat flung 
 on the piano, her white hands bared, and a black loop oi 
 her braided hair hanging upon her shoulder, was fairly 
 embarked upon a flowing sea of musical recollection. 
 
 She had played perhaps half an hour, when, having just 
 finished an elaborate symphony and resting her hands on 
 the keys, she heard very distinctly and unmistakably the 
 sound of applause from without. In an instant the fires ot 
 shame and indignation leaped into her cheeks, and she rose 
 from the instrument and ran to the window, only in time to 
 catch sight of a dozen figures in blue and red flannel shirts 
 vanishing hurriedly through the trees below. 
 
 Miss Nelly's mind was instantly made up. I think I 
 have already intimated that under the stimulus of excite- 
 ment she was not wanting in courage, and, as she quietiy
 
 412 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 
 
 resumed her gloves, hat, and duster, she was not perhaps 
 exactly the young person that it would be entirely safe for 
 the timid, embarrassed, or inexperienced of my sex to meet 
 alone. She shut down the piano, and, having carefully 
 reclosed all the windows and doors, and restored the house 
 to its former desolate condition, she stepped from tin 
 veranda, and proceeded directly to the cabin of the unin- 
 tellectual" Hawkins, that reared its adobe chimney above 
 the iimbrage a quarter of a mile below. 
 
 The door opened instantly to her impulsive knock, and 
 the Fool of Five Forks stood before her. Miss Nelly had 
 never before seen the man designated by this infelicitous 
 title, and as he stepped backward in half courtesy and half 
 astonishment she was for the moment disconcerted. He 
 was tall, finely formed, and dark-bearded. Above cheeks a 
 little hollowed by care and ill-health shone a pair of hazel 
 eyes, very large, very gentle, but inexpressibly sad and 
 mournful. This was certainly not the kind of man Miss 
 Nelly had expected to see, yet, after her first embarrassment 
 had passed, the very circumstance, oddly enough, added 
 to her indignation, and stung her wounded pride still more 
 deeply. Nevertheless the arch hypocrite instantly changed 
 her tactics with the swift intuition of her sex. 
 
 " I have come," she said with a dazzling smile / infinitely 
 more dangerous than her former dignified severity, "I 
 have come to ask your pardon for a great liberty I -have 
 just taken. I believe the new house above us on the hill 
 is yours. I was so much pleased with its exterior that 1 
 left my friends for a moment below here," she continued 
 artfully, with a slight ,wave of the hand, as if indicating a 
 band of fearless Amazons without, and waiting to avenge 
 any possible insult offered to one of their number, " and 
 ventured to enter it. Finding it unoccupied, as I had been 
 told, I am afraid I had the audacity to sit down and amuse 
 myself for a few moments at the piano while waiting foi 
 my friends."
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 413 
 
 Hawkins raised his beautiful eyes to hers. He saw a 
 very pretty girl, with frank gray eyes glistening with excite- 
 ment, with two red, slightly freckled cheeks, glowing a 
 little under his eyes, with a short scarlet upper lip turned 
 back, like a rose-leaf, over a little line of white teeth, as she 
 breathed somewhat hurriedly in her nervous excitement. 
 He saw all this calmly, quietly, and, save for the natural 
 uneasiness of a shy, reticent man, I fear without a quicken- 
 ing of his pulse. 
 
 " I knowed it," he said simply. " I heerd ye as I kem 
 up." 
 
 Miss Nelly was furious at his grammar, his dialect, his 
 coolness, and still more at the suspicion that he was an 
 active member of her invisiWe claque. 
 
 '' Ah," she said, still smiling, " then I think I heard 
 you " 
 
 " I reckon not," he interrupted gravely. " I did n't stay 
 long. I found the boys hanging round the house, and I 
 allowed at first I 'd go in and kinder warn you, but they 
 promised to keep still, and you looked so comfortable and 
 wrapped up in your music that I had n't the heart to dis- 
 turb you, and kem away. I hope," he added earnestly, 
 " they did n't let on ez they heerd you. They ain't a bad 
 lot them Blazin' Star boys though they 're a little hard 
 at times. But they 'd no more hurt ye then they would 
 a a a cat ! " continued Mr. Hawkins, blushing with 
 a faint apprehension of the inelegance of his simile. 
 
 " No ! no ! " said Miss Nelly, feeling suddenly very 
 angry with herself, the Fool, and the entire male population 
 of Five Forks. " No ! I have behaved foolishly, I suppose, 
 and if they had it would have served me right. But I 
 only wanted to apologize to you. You '11 find everything as 
 you left it. Good day ! " 
 
 She turned to go. Mr. Hawkins began to feel embar- 
 rassed, " I 'd have asked ye to sit down," he said, finally,
 
 414 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 
 
 " if it bed been a place fit for a lady. I oughter done so, 
 enny way. I don't know what kept me from it. But I 
 ain't well, Miss. Times I get a sort o' dumb ager it's 
 tbe ditches, I think, Miss and I don't seem to hev my 
 wits about me." 
 
 Instantly Miss Arnot was all sympathy, her quick 
 woman's heart was touched. 
 
 " Can I can anything be done ? " she asked, more 
 timidly than she had before spoken. 
 
 " No ! not onless ye remember suthin' about these 
 pills." He exhibited a box containing about half a dozen. 
 " I forget the direction I don't seem to remember much, 
 any way, these times they 're ' Jones' Vegetable Com- 
 pound.' If ye 've ever took 'em ye '11 remember whether 
 the reg'lar dose is eight. They ain't but six here. But 
 perhaps ye never tuk any," he added deprecatingly. 
 
 " No," said Miss Nelly, curtly. She had usually a keen 
 sense of the ludicrous, but somehow Mr. Hawkins' eccen- 
 tricity only pained her. 
 
 " WiV v ou let me see you to the foot of the hill ? " he 
 said again, after another embarrassing pause. 
 
 Miss Arnot felt instantly that such an act would con- 
 done her trespass in the eyes of the world. She might 
 meet some of her invisible admirers, or even her compan- 
 ions, and, with all her erratic impulses, she was never- 
 theless a woman, and did not entirely despise the verdict of 
 conventionality. She smiled sweetly and assented, and in 
 another moment the two were lost in the shadows of the 
 wood. 
 
 Like many other apparently trivial acts in an uneventful 
 life, it was decisive. As she expected, she met two or 
 three of her late applauders, whom, she fancied, looked 
 sheepish and embarrassed ; she met also her companions 
 looking for her in some alarm, who really appeared aston- 
 ished at her escort, and, she fancied, a trifle envious of her
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 415 
 
 evident success. I fear that Miss Arnot, in response to 
 their anxious inquiries, did not state entirely the truth, but, 
 without actual assertion, led them to believe that she had 
 at a very early stage of the proceeding completely subju- 
 gated this weak-minded giant, and had brought him trium- 
 phantly to her feet. From telling this story two or three 
 times, she got finally to believing that she had some founda- 
 tion for it ; then to a vague sort of desire that it would 
 eventually prove to be true, and then to an equally vague 
 yearning to hasten that consummation. That it would 
 redound to any satisfaction of the Fool she did not stop to 
 doubt. That it would cure him of his folly she was quite 
 confident. Indeed, there are very few of us men or 
 women who do not believe that even a hopeless love for 
 ourselves is more conducive to the salvation of the lover 
 than a requited affection for another. 
 
 The criticism of Five Forks was, as the reader may 
 imagine, swift and conclusive. When it was found out that 
 Miss Arnot was not " the Hag " masquerading as a young 
 and pretty girl, to the ultimate deception of Five Forks in 
 general and the Fool in particular, it- was decided at once 
 that nothing but the speedy union of the Fool and the 
 "pretty school-marm" was consistent with ordinary com 
 mon sense. The singular good fortune of Hawkins was 
 quite in accordance with the theory of his luck as pro- 
 pounded by the camp. That after " the Hag " failed to 
 make her appearance he should " strike a lead " in his own 
 house, without the trouble of " prospectin'," seemed to 
 these casuists as a wonderful but inevitable law. To add 
 to these fateful probabilities, Miss Arnot fell and sprained 
 her ankle in the ascent of Mount Lincoln, and was confined 
 for some weeks to the hotel after her companions had de- 
 parted. During this period Hawkins was civilly but gro- 
 tesquely attentive. When, after a reasonable time had 
 elapsed, there still appeared to be no immediate prospect of
 
 416 THF FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 
 
 the occupancy of the new house, public opinion experienced 
 a singular change in regard to its theories of Mr. Hawkins' 
 conduct. " The Hag " was looked upon as a saint-like and 
 long-suffering martyr to the weaknesses and inconsistency 
 of the Fool. That, after erecting this new house at her 
 request, he had suddenly " gone back " on her ; that his 
 celibacy was the result of a long habit of weak proposal and 
 subsequent shameless rejection, and that he was now trying 
 his hand on the helpless school-marm, was perfectly plain 
 to Five Forks. That he should be frustrated in his 
 attempts at any cost was equally plain. Miss Nelly sud- 
 denly found herself invested with a rude chivalry that 
 would have been amusing had it not been at times embarrass- 
 ing ; that would have been impertinent but for the almost 
 superstitious respect with which it was proffered. Every 
 day somebody from Five Forks rode out to inquire the 
 health of the fair patient. " Hez Hawkins bin over yer 
 to-day ? " queried Tom Flynn, with artful ease and in- 
 difference as he leaned over Miss Nelly's easy-chair on 
 the veranda. Miss Nelly, with a faint pink flush on her 
 cheek, was constrained to answer " No." " Well, he sorter 
 sprained his foot agin a rock yesterday," continued Flynn, 
 with shameless untruthfulness. " You mils' n't think any- 
 thing o' that, Miss Arnot. He '11 be over yer to-morrer, 
 and meantime he told me to hand this yer bookay with 
 regards, and this yer specimen ! " And Mr. Flynn laid 
 down the flowers he had picked en route, against such 
 an emergency, and presented respectfully a piece of quartz 
 and gold which he had taken that morning from his own 
 sluice-box. " You mils' n't mind Hawkins' ways, Miss 
 Nelly," said another sympathizing miner. " There ain't a 
 better man in camp than that theer Cy Hawkins ! but 
 he don't understand the ways o' the world with wimen. 
 He has n't mixed as much with society as the rest of us," 
 he added, with an elaborate Chesterfieldian ease of manner.
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 417 
 
 " but he means well." Meanwhile a few other sympa- 
 thetic tunnel-men were impressing upon Mr. Hawkins tho 
 necessity of the greatest attention to the invalid. " It 
 won't do, Hawkins," they explained, "to let that there 
 gal go back to San Francisco and say that when she was 
 sick and alone, the only man in Five Forks under whose 
 
 roof she had rested, and at whose table she had sat " 
 
 this was considered a natural but pardonable exaggeration 
 of rhetoric " ever threw off on her ; and it shan't be done. 
 It ain't the square thing to Five Forks." And then the 
 Fool would rush away to the valley, and be received by 
 Miss Nelly with a certain reserve of manner that finally 
 disappeared in a flush of color, some increased vivacity, and 
 a pardonable coquetry. And so the days passed ; Miss 
 Nelly grew better in health and more troubled in mind, 
 and Mr. Hawkins became more and more embarrassed, and 
 Five Forks smiled and rubbed its hands, and waited for the 
 approaching denouement. And then it came. But not 
 perhaps in the manner that Five Forks had imagined. 
 
 It was a lovely afternoon in July that a party of Eastern 
 tourists rode into Five Forks. They had just " done " the 
 Valley of Big Things, and, there being one or two Eastern 
 capitalists among the party, it was deemed advisable that 
 a proper knowledge of the practical mining resources of 
 California should be added to their experience of the 
 merely picturesque in Nature. Thus far everything had 
 been satisfactory ; the amount of water which passed over 
 the Fall was large, owing to a backward season ; some 
 snow still remained in the canons near the highest peaks ; 
 they had ridden round one of the biggest trees, and through 
 the prostrate trunk of another. To say that they were 
 delighted is to express feebly the enthusiasm of these 
 ladies and gentlemen, drunk with the champagny hospi- 
 tality of their entertainers, the utter novelty of scene, and 
 the dry, exhilarating air of the valley. One cr two had
 
 418 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 
 
 already expressed themselves ready to live and die there ; 
 another had written a glowing account to the Eastern pros*. 
 depreciating all other scenery in Europe and America ; and 
 under these circumstances it was reasonably expected that 
 Five Forks \Tould do its duty, and equally impress the 
 stranger after its own fashion. 
 
 Letters to this effect were sent from San Francisco by 
 prominent capitalists there, and, under the able superin- 
 tendence of one of their agents, the visitors were taken 
 in hand, shown " what was to be seen," carefully restrained 
 from observing what ought not to be visible, and so kept 
 in a blissful and enthusiastic condition. And so the grave- 
 yard of Five Forks, in which but two of the occupants had 
 died natural deaths, the dreary, ragged cabins on the hill- 
 sides, with their sad-eyed, cynical, broken-spirited occu- 
 pants, toiling on, day by day, for a miserable pittance and 
 a fare that a self-respecting Eastern mechanic would have 
 scornfully rejected, were not a part of the Eastern visitors' 
 recollection. But the hoisting works and machinery of the 
 " Blazing Star Tunnel Company " was, the Blazing Star 
 Tunnel Company, whose " gentlemanly Superintendent " 
 had received private information from San Francisco to do 
 the " proper thing " for the party. Wherefore the valua- 
 ble heaps of ore in the company's works were shown, the 
 oblong bars of gold ready for shipment were playfully 
 offered to the ladies who could lift and carry them away 
 unaided, and even the tunnel itself, gloomy, fateful, and 
 peculiar, was shown* as part of the experience ; and, in the 
 noble language of one correspondent, " the wealth of Five 
 Forks and the peculiar inducements that it offered to 
 Eastern capitalists " were established beyond a doiibt. 
 And then occurred a little incident which, as an unbiased 
 spectator, I am free to say offered no inducements to any- 
 body whatever, but which, for its bearing upon the central 
 figure of this veracious chronicle, I cannot pass over.
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 419 
 
 It had become apparent to one or two more practical 
 and sober-minded in the party that certain portions of the 
 " Blazing Star " Tunnel (owing, perhaps, to the exigen- 
 cies of a nattering annual dividend) were economically 
 and imperfectly " shored " and supported, and were conse- 
 quently unsafe, insecure, and to be avoided. Nevertheless, 
 at a time when champagne corks were popping in dark 
 corners, and enthusiastic voices and happy laughter rang 
 through the half-lighted levels and galleries, there came 
 a sudden and mysterious silence. A few lights dashed 
 swiftly by in the direction of a distant part of the gallery, 
 and then there was a sudden sharp issuing of orders and 
 a dull, ominous rumble. Some of- the visitors turned pale 
 one woman fainted ! 
 
 Something had happened. What ? " Nothing " the 
 speaker is fluent but uneasy " one of the gentlemen in 
 trying to dislodge a ' specimen ' from the wall had knocked 
 away a support. There had been a 'cave-' the gentle- 
 man was caught and buried below his shoulders. It was 
 all right they 'd get him out in a moment only it 
 required great care to keep from extending the l cave.' 
 Didn't know his name it was that little man the hus- 
 band of that lively lady with the black eyes. Eh ! Hullo 
 there ! Stop her. For God's sake ! not that way ! 
 She '11 fall from that shaft. She '11 be killed ! " 
 
 But the lively lady was already gone. With staring 
 black eyes, imploringly trying to pierce the gloom, with 
 hands and feet that sought to batter and break down the 
 thick darkness, with incoherent cries and supplications, 
 following the moving of ignis fatuus lights ahead, she ran 
 and ran swiftly ! Ran over treacherous foundations, ran 
 by yawning gulfs, ran past branching galleries and arches ; 
 ran wildly, ran despairingly, ran blindly, and at last ran 
 into the arms of the Fool of Five Forks. 
 
 In an instant she caught at his hand. " Oh, save him ! "
 
 420 THE FOOL OF FIVE FOKKS 
 
 she cried ; " you belong here you know this dreadful 
 place ; bring me to him. Tell me where to go and what 
 to do, I implore you ! Quick, he is dying. Come ! " 
 
 He raised his eyes to hers, and then, with a sudden cry, 
 dropped the rope and crowbar he was carrying, and reeled 
 against the wall. " Annie ! " he gasped, slowly, " is it 
 you ? " 
 
 She caught at both his hands, brought her face to his 
 with staring eyes, murmured " Good God, Cyrus ! " and 
 sank upon her knees before him. 
 
 He tried to disengage the hand that she wrung with 
 passionate entreaty. 
 
 " No, no ! Cyrus, you will forgive me you will forget 
 the past ! God has sent you here to-day. You will come 
 .with me. You will you must save him ! " 
 
 " Save who ? " cried Cyrus hoarsely. 
 
 " My husband ! " 
 
 The blow was so direct so strong and overwhelming 
 that even through her own stronger and more selfish absorp- 
 tion she saw it in the face of the man, and pitied him. 
 
 " I thought you knew it ! " she faltered. He did 
 not speak, but looked at her with fixer?, dumb eyes. And 
 then the sound of distant voices and hurrying feet started 
 her again into passionate life. She once more caught his 
 hand. 
 
 u O Cyrus ! hear me ! If you have loved me through 
 all these years, you will not fail me now. You must save 
 him ! You can ! You are brave and strong you always 
 were, Cyrus ! You will save him, Cyrus, for my sake for 
 the sake of your love for me ! You will I know it ! 
 God bless you ! " 
 
 She rose as if to follow him, but at a gesture of com- 
 mand she stood still. He picked up the rope and crowbar 
 slowly, and in a dazed, blinded way that, in her agony of 
 impatience and alarm, seemed protracted to cruel infinity.
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 421 
 
 Then he turned, and, raising her hand to his lips, he kissed 
 it slowly, looked at her again and the next moment was 
 gone. 
 
 He did not return. For at the end of the next half 
 hour, when they laid before her the half-conscious breath- 
 ing body of her husband, safe and unharmed but for 
 exhaustion and some slight bruises, she learned that the 
 worst fears of the workmen had been realized. In releas- 
 ing him a second " cave " had taken place. They had barely 
 time to snatch away the helpless body of her husband 
 before the strong frame of his rescuer, Cyrus Hawkins, was 
 struck and smitten down in his place. 
 
 For two hours he lay there, crushed and broken-limbed, 
 with a heavy beam lying across his breast, in sight of all, 
 conscious and patient. For two hours they had labored 
 around him, wildly, despairingly, hopefully, with the wills 
 of gods and the strength of giants, and at the end of that 
 time they came to an upright timber, which rested its base 
 upon the beam. There was a cry for axes, and one was 
 already swinging in the air, when the dying man called to 
 them feebly : 
 
 " Don't cut that upright ! " 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " It will -bring down the whole gallery with it." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " It 's one of the foundations of my house." 
 
 The axe fell from the workman's hand, and with a 
 blanched face he turned to his fellows. It was too true. 
 They were in the uppermost gallery, and the " cave " had 
 taken place directly below the new house. After a pause 
 the Fool spoke again more feebly. 
 
 " The lady ! quick." 
 
 They brought her a Avretched, fainting creature, with 
 pallid face and streaming eyes and fell back as she bent 
 tier face above him.
 
 422 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS 
 
 " It was built for you, Annie, darling," he said in a hup 
 ried whisper, " and has been waiting up there for you and 
 me all these long days. It 's deeded to you, Annie, and 
 you must live there with him ! He will not mind 
 that I shall be always near you for it stands above my 
 grave ! " 
 
 And he was right. In a few minutes later, when he had 
 passed away, they did not move him, but sat by his body 
 all night with a torch at his feet and head. And the next 
 day they walled up the gallery as a vault, but they put no 
 mark or any sign thereon, trusting rather to the monument 
 that, bright and cheerful, rose above him in the sunlight of 
 the hill. For they said : " This is not an evidence of death 
 and gloom and sorrow, as are other monuments, but is a 
 sign of Life and Light and Hope, wherefore shall all mei 
 know that he who lies under it is a Fool ! "
 
 HE LOOKED AT HER WITH FIXED, DUMB EYES
 
 THE MAN FKOM SOLANO 
 
 HE came toward me out of an opera lobby, between the 
 acts, a figure as remarkable as anything in the perform- 
 ance. His clothes, no two articles of which were of the 
 same color, had the appearance of having been purchased 
 and put on only an hour or two before, a fact more 
 directly established by the clothes-dealer's ticket which still 
 adhered to his coat-collar, giving the number, size, and gen- 
 eral dimensions of that garment somewhat obtrusively to 
 an uninterested public. His trousers had a straight line 
 down each leg, as if he had been born flat but had since 
 developed ; and there was another crease down his back, 
 like those figures children cut out of folded paper. I may 
 add that there was no consciousness of this in his face, 
 which was good-natured, and, but for a certain squareness 
 in the angle of his lower jaw, utterly uninteresting and 
 commonplace. 
 
 " You disremember me," he said briefly, as he extended 
 his hand, " but I 'm from Solano, in Californy. I met you 
 there in the spring of '57. I was tendin' sheep, and you 
 was burnin' charcoal." 
 
 There was not the slightest trace of any intentional rude- 
 ness in the reminder. It was simply a statement of fact, 
 and as such to be accepted. 
 
 " What I hailed ye for was only this," he said, after I 
 had shaken hands with him. " I saw you a minnit ago 
 standin' over in yon box, chirpin' with a lady, a young 
 lady, peart and pretty. Might you be telling ma her 
 name ? "
 
 424 THE MAN FROM SOLANO 
 
 I gave him the name of a certain noted belle of a neigh- 
 boring city, who had lately stirred the hearts of themetrop- 1 
 olis, and who was especially admired by the brilliant and 
 fascinating young Dashboard, who stood beside me. 
 
 The Man from Solano mused for a moment, and then 
 said, " Thet 's so ! thet 's the name ! It 's the same gal ! " 
 
 " You have met her, then ? " I asked in surprise. 
 
 " Ye-es," he responded slowly ; " I met her about fower 
 months ago. She 'd bin makin' a tour of Californy with 
 some friends, and I first saw her aboard the cars this side 
 of Eeno. She lost her baggage checks, and I found them 
 on the floor and gave 'em back to her, and she thanked me. 
 I reckon now it would be about the square thing to go over 
 thar and sorter recognize her." He stopped a moment, and 
 looked at us inquiringly. 
 
 " My dear sir," struck in the brilliant and fascinating 
 young Dashboard, " if your hesitation proceeds from any 
 doubt as to the propriety of your attire, I beg you to dis- 
 miss it from your mind at once. The tyranny of custom, 
 it is true, compels your friend and myself to dress pecu- 
 liarly, but I assure you nothing could be finer than the way 
 that the olive green of your coat melts in the delicate yellow 
 of your cravat, or the pearl gray of your trousers blends 
 with the bright blue of your waistcoat, and lends additional 
 brilliancy to that massive oroid watch-chain which you 
 
 To my surprise, the Man from Solano did not strike him. 
 He looked at the ironical Dashboard with grave earnest- 
 ness, and then said quietly : 
 
 "Then I reckon you wouldn't mind showin' me in 
 thar ? " 
 
 Dashboard was, I admit, a little staggered at this. But 
 he recovered himself, and, bowing ironically, led the way to 
 the box. I followed him and the Man from Solano. 
 
 Now th'e belle in question happened to be a gentlewoman
 
 THE MAN FROM SOLANO 425 
 
 descended from gentlewomen, and after Dashboard's 
 ironical introduction, in which the Man from Solano was 
 not spared, she comprehended the situation instantly. To 
 Dashboard's surprise she drew a chair to her side, made the 
 Man from Solano sit down, quietly turned her back on 
 Dashboard, and, in full view of the brilliant audience and 
 the focus of a hundred lorgnettes, entered into conversation 
 with him. 
 
 Here, for the sake of romance, I should like to say he 
 became animated, and exhibited some trait of- excellence, 
 some rare wit or solid sense. But the fact is he was dull 
 and stupid to the last degree. He persisted in keeping the 
 conversation upon the subject of the lost baggage-checks, 
 and every bright attempt of the lady to divert him failed 
 signally. At last, to everybody's relief, he rose, and, leaning 
 over her chair, said : 
 
 ' I calklate to stop over here some time, miss, and you 
 and me bein' sorter strangers here, maybe when there 's any 
 show like this goin' on you '11 let me " 
 
 Miss X. said somewhat hastily that the multiplicity of 
 her' engagements and the brief limit of her stay in New 
 York she feared would, etc., etc. The two other ladies had 
 their handkerchiefs over their mouths, and were staring 
 intently on the stage, when the Man from Solano con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " Then, maybe, miss, whenever there is a show goin' on 
 that you'll attend, you'll just drop me word to Earle's 
 Hotel, to this yer address," and he pulled from his pocket 
 a dozen well-worn letters, and, taking the buff envelope 
 from one, handed it to her with something like a bow. 
 
 "Certainly," broke in the facetious Dashboard; " Miss 
 X. goes to the Charity Ball to-morrow night. The tickets 
 are but a trifle to an opulent Californian, and a man of 
 your evident means, and the object a worthy one You 
 mil, no doubt, easily secure an invitation."
 
 426 THE MAN FROM SOLANO 
 
 Miss X. raised her handsome eyes for a moment to 
 Dashboard. " By all means," she said, turning to the Man 
 from Solano ; " and as Mr. Dashboard is one of the man- 
 agers, and you are a stranger, he will, of course, send you 
 a complimentary ticket. I have known Mr. Dashboard 
 long enough to know that he is invariably courteous to 
 Grangers and a gentleman." She settled herself in her 
 chair again and fixed her eyes upon the stage. 
 
 The Man from Solano thanked the Man of New York 3 
 and then, after shaking hands with everybody in the box, 
 turned to go. When he had reached the door he looked 
 back to Miss X. and said : 
 
 " It was one of the queerest things in the world, miss, 
 that my findin' them checks " 
 
 But the curtain had just then risen on the garden scene 
 in " Faust," and Miss X. was absorbed. The Man from 
 Solano carefully shut the box door and retired. I followed 
 him. He was silent until he reached the lobby, and then 
 he said, as if renewing a previous conversation, " She is a 
 mighty peart gal, that 's so. She 's just my kind, and 
 will make a stavin' good wife." 
 
 I thought I saw danger ahead for the Man from Solano, 
 so I hastened to tell him that she was beset by attentions, 
 that she could have her pick and choice of the best of 
 society, and finally, that she was, most probably, engaged 
 to Dashboard. 
 
 " That 's so," he said quietly, without the slightest trace 
 of feeling. " It would be mighty queer if she was n't. 
 But I reckon I '11 steer down to the ho-tel. I don't care 
 much for this yellin'." (He was alluding to a cadenza of 
 that famous cantatrice, Signora Batti Batti.) "What's 
 the time ? " 
 
 He pulled out his watch. It was such a glaring chain, 
 BO obviously bogus, that my eyes were fascinated by it. 
 " You 're looking at that watch," he said ; " it 'a purty to
 
 THE MAN FROM SOLAXO 42? 
 
 look at, but she don't go worth a cent. And yet her price 
 was $125 gold. I gobbled her up in Chatham Street day 
 before yesterday, where they were selling 'em very cheap 
 at auction." 
 
 " You have been outrageously swindled," I said indig- 
 lantly. " Watch and chain are not worth twenty dollars." 
 
 " Are they worth fifteen ? " he asked gravely. 
 
 " Possibly." 
 
 " Then I reckon it 's a fair trade. Ye see, I told 'em I 
 was a Californian from Solano, and had n't anything about 
 me of greenbacks. I had three slugs with me. Ye remem- 
 ber them slugs ? " (I did ; the " slug " was a " token " 
 issued in the early days, a hexagonal piece of gold a 
 little over twice the size of a twenty-dollar gold piece, 
 worth and accepted for fifty dollars.) 
 
 " Well, I handed them that, and they handed me the 
 watch. You see them slugs I had made myself outer brass 
 filings and iron pyrites, and used to slap 'em down on the 
 boys for a bluff in a game of draw poker. You see, not 
 being reg'lar gov'ment money, it was n't counterfeiting. I 
 reckon they cost me, counting time and anxiety, about 
 fifteen dollars. So, if this yer watch is worth that, it's 
 about a square game, ain't it ? " 
 
 I began to understand the Man from Solano, and said it 
 was. He returned his watch to his pocket, toyed playfully 
 with the chain, and remarked, " Kinder makes a man look 
 fash'nable and wealthy, don't it ? " 
 
 I agreed with him. " But what do you intend to do 
 here ? " I asked. 
 
 " Well, I 've got a cash capital of nigh on seven hundred 
 dollars. I guess until I get into reg'lar business I '11 
 skirmish round Wall Street, and sorter lay low." I was 
 about to give him a few words of warning, but I remem- 
 bered his watch and desisted. We shook hands and 
 parted.
 
 428 THE MAN FROM SOLANO 
 
 A few days after I met him on Broadway He was 
 attired in another new suit, but I think I saw a slight im- 
 provement in his general appearance. Only five distinct 
 colors were visihle in his attire. But this, I had reason to 
 believe afterwards, was accidental. 
 
 Tasked him if he had been to the ball. He said he had, 
 " That gal, and a mighty peart gal she was too, was there, 
 but she sorter fought shy of me. I got this new suit to gc 
 in, but those waiters sorter run me into a private box, and 
 I did n't get much chance to con tinner our talk about them 
 checks. But that young feller, Dashboard, was mighty 
 perlite. He brought lots of fellers and young worn en 
 round to the box to see me, and he made up a party that 
 night to take me round Wall Street and in them Stock 
 Boards. And the next day he called for me, and took me, 
 and I invested about five hundred dollars in them stocks, 
 maybe more. You see, we sorter swopped stocks. You 
 know I had ten shares in the Peacock Copper Mine, that 
 you was once secretary of." 
 
 " But those shares are riot worth a cent. The whole 
 thing exploded ten years ago." 
 
 " That 's so, maybe ; you say so. But then I did n't 
 know anything more about Communipaw Central, or the 
 Naphtha Gaslight Company, and so I thought it was a square 
 game. Only I realized on the stocks I bought, and I kem 
 up outer Wall Street about four hundred dollars better. 
 You see it was a sorter risk, after all, for them Peacock 
 stocks might come up ! " 
 
 I looked into his face : it was immeasurably serene and 
 commonplace. I began to be a little afraid of the man, or, 
 rather, of my want of judgment of the man ; and after a 
 few words we shook hands and parted. 
 
 It was some months before I again saw the Man from 
 Solano. When I did, I found that he had actually become 
 a member of the Stock Board, and had a little office on
 
 THE MAN FROM SOLANO 429 
 
 Broad Street, where he transacted a fair business. My 
 remembrance going back to the first night I met him, I 
 inquired if he had renewed his acquaintance with Miss X. 
 
 " I heerd that she was in Newport this summer, and I 
 ran down there fur a week." 
 
 " And you talked with her about the baggage-checks ? " 
 
 " No," he said seriously ; " she gave me a commission 
 to buy some stocks for her. You see, I guess them fash'- 
 nable fellers sorter got to runnin' her about me, and so she 
 put our acquaintance on a square business footing. I tell 
 you, she 's a right peart gal. Did ye hear of the accident 
 that happened to her ? " 
 
 I had not. 
 
 '.' Well, you see, she was out yachting, and I managed 
 through one of those fellers to get an invite, too. The 
 whole thing was got up by a man that they say is going to 
 marry her. Well, one afternoon the boom swings round in 
 a little squall and knocks her overboard. There was an 
 awful excitement, you 've heard about it, maybe ? " 
 
 " No ! " But I saw it all with a romancer's instinct in 
 a flash of poetry ! This poor fellow, debarred through un- 
 couthness from expressing his affection for her, had at last 
 foxind his fitting opportunity. He had 
 
 " Thar was an awful row," he went on. " I ran out on 
 the taffrail, and there a dozen yards away was that purty 
 creature, that peart gal, and I " 
 
 " You jumped for her," I said hastily. 
 
 " No ! " he said gravely. " I let the other man do the 
 jumping. I sorter looked on." 
 
 I stared at him in astonishment. 
 
 " No," he went on seriously. " He was the man who 
 jumped; that was just then his 'put,' his line of busi- 
 ness. You see if I had waltzed over the side of that ship, 
 and cavoorted in, and flummuxed round, and finally flopped 
 to the bottom, that other man would have jumped nateral
 
 430 THE MAN FROM SOLANO 
 
 like and saved her ; and ez he was going to marry her any 
 way, I don't exactly see where I'd hev been represented in 
 the transaction. But don't you see, ef, after he 'd jumped 
 and had n't got her, he 'd gone down himself, I 'd hev had 
 the next best chance, and the advantage of heving him 
 outer the way. You see, you don't understand me, I 
 don't think you did in Californy." 
 
 " Then he did save her ? " 
 
 " Of course. Don't you see, she was all right. If he 'd 
 missed her, I 'd have chipped in. Thar war n't no sense in 
 my doing his duty onless he failed." 
 
 Somehow the story got out. The Man from Solano as a 
 butt became more popular than ever, and of course received 
 invitations to burlesque receptions, and naturally met a 
 great many people whom otherwise he would not have seen. 
 It was observed also that his seven hundred dollars were 
 steadily growing, and that he seemed to be getting on in 
 his business. Certain Californian stocks which I had seep 
 quietly interred in the old days in the tombs of then 
 fathers were magically revived ; and I remember, as one 
 who has seen a ghost, to have been shocked as I looked 
 over the quotations, c ne morning, to see the ghastly face 
 of the " Dead Beach Mining Co.," rouged and plastered, 
 looking out from the columns of the morning paper. At 
 last a few people began to respect, or suspect, the Man 
 from Solano. At last suspicion culminated with this inci- 
 dent : 
 
 He had long expressed a wish to belong to a certain 
 " fash'nable " club, and with a view of burlesque he was 
 invited to visit the club, where a series of ridiculous enter- 
 tainments were given him, winding up with a card party. 
 As I passed the steps of the club-house early next morning, 
 I overheard two or three members talking excitedly. 
 
 " He cleaned everybody out." " Why, he must have 
 raked in nigh on $40,000."
 
 THE MAN FROM SOLANO 431 
 
 " Who ? " I asked. 
 
 " The Man from Solano." 
 
 As I turned away, one of the gentlemen, a victim, noted 
 for his sporting propensities, followed me, and, laying his 
 hand on my shoulder, asked, 
 
 " Tell me fairly now. What business did your friend 
 follow in California ? " 
 
 " He was a shepherd." 
 
 " A what ? " 
 
 " A shepherd. Tended his flocks on the honey-scented 
 hills of Solano." 
 
 " Well, all I an say is, d n your Californian pasto- 
 rals 1
 
 A GHOST OF THE SIERKAS 
 
 IT was a vast silence of pines, redolent Avith balsamic 
 breath, and muffled with the dry dust of dead bark and 
 matted mosses. Lying on our backs, we looked upward 
 through a hundred feet of clear, unbroken interval to the 
 first lateral branches that formed the flat canopy above us. 
 Here and there the fierce sun, from whose active persecution 
 we had just escaped, searched for us through the woods, but 
 its keen blade was diilled and turned aside by intercostal 
 boughs, and its brightness dissipated in nebulous mists 
 throughout the roofing of the dim, brown aisles around us. 
 We were in another atmosphere, under another sky ; indeed, 
 in another world than the dazzling one we had just quitted. 
 The grave silence seemed so much a part of the grateful 
 coolness, that we hesitated to speak, and for some moments 
 lay quietly outstretched on the pine tassels where we had first 
 thrown ourselves. Finally a voice broke the silence : 
 " Ask the old Major ; he knows all about it ! " 
 The person here alluded to under that military title was 
 myself. I hardly need explain to any Californian that it by 
 no means followed that I was a " Major," or that I w r as 
 " old," or that T knew anything about " it," or indeed what 
 " it " referred to. The whole remark was merely one of 
 the usual conventional feelers to conversation, a kind of 
 social preamble, quite common to our slangy camp inter- 
 course. Nevertheless, as I was always known as the Major, 
 perhaps for no better reason than that the speaker, an old 
 journalist, was always called Doctor, I recognized the fact 
 so far as to kick aside an intervening saddle, so that I could
 
 A GHOST OF THE SIERRAS 433 
 
 see the speaker's face on a level with my own, and taid 
 nothing. 
 
 " About ghosts ! " said the Doctor, after a pause, which 
 nobody broke or was expected to break. "Ghosts, sir \ 
 That 's what we want to know. What are we doing here in 
 this blank old mausoleum of Calaveras County, if it is n't. 
 to iind out something about 'em, eh ? " 
 
 Nobody replied. 
 
 " Thar 's that haunted house at Cave City. Can't be more 
 than a mile or two away, anyhow. Used to be just off the 
 trail." 
 
 A dead silence. 
 
 The Doctor (addressing space generally) : "Yes, sir; it 
 was a mighty queer story." 
 
 Still the same reposeful indifference. We all knew the 
 Doctor's skill as a raconteur ; we all knew that a story was 
 coming, and we all knew that any interruption would be 
 fatal. Time and time again, in our prospecting experience, 
 had a word of polite encouragement, a rash expression of 
 interest, even a too eager attitude, of silent expectancy, 
 brought the Doctor to a sudden change of subject. Time 
 and time again have we seen the unwary stranger stand 
 amazed and bewildered between our own indifference and 
 the sudden termination of a promising anecdote, through 
 his own unlucky interference. So we said nothing. " The 
 Judge " another instance of arbitrary nomenclature pre- 
 tended to sleep. Jack began to twist a ciyarrito. Thorn- 
 ton bit off the ends of pine needles reflectively. 
 
 " Yes, sir," continued the Doctor, coolly resting the back 
 of his head on the palms of his hands, " it was rather 
 curious. All except the murder. That 's what gets me, 
 for the murder had no new points, no fancy touches, no 
 sentiment, no mystery. Was just one of the old style, 
 ' sub-head ' paragraphs. Old-fashioned miner scrubs along 
 on hardtack and beans, and saves up a little money to go
 
 434 A GHOST OF THE SIERRAS 
 
 home and see relations. Old-fashioned! assassin sharpens 
 up knife, old style ; loads old flint-lock, brass-mounted 
 pistols ; walks in on old-fashioned miner one dark night, 
 sends him home to his relations away back to several 
 generations, and walks off with the swag. No mystery 
 there ; nothing to clear up ; subsequent revelations only 
 impertinence. Nothing for any ghost to do who meant 
 business. More than that, over forty murders, same old 
 kind, committed e.very year in Calaveras, and no spiritual 
 post obits coming due every anniversary ; no assessments 
 made on the peace and quiet of the surviving community. 
 I tell you what, boys, I 've always been inclined to throw 
 off on the Cave City ghost for that alone. It 's a bad pre- 
 cedent, sir. If that kind o' thing is going to obtain in the 
 foot-hills, we '11 have the trails full of chaps formerly knocked 
 over by Mexicans and road agents ; every little camp and 
 grocery will have stock enough on hand to go into business, 
 and where 's there any security for surviving life and prop- 
 erty, eh ? What 's your opinion, Judge, as a fair-minded 
 legislator ? " 
 
 Of course there was no response. Yet it was part of 
 the Doctor's system of aggravation to become discursive at 
 these moments, in the hope of interruption, and he con- 
 tinued for some moments to dwell on the terrible possibility 
 of a state of affairs in which a gentleman could no longer 
 settle a dispute with an enemy without being subjected to 
 succeeding spiritual embarrassment. But all this digression 
 fell upon apparently inattentive ears. 
 
 " Well, sir, after the murder, the cabin stood for a long 
 time deserted and tenantless. Popular opinion was against 
 it. One day a ragged prospector, savage with hard labor 
 and harder luck, came to the camp, looking for a place to 
 live and a chance to prospect. After the boys had taken 
 his measure, they concluded that, he'd already tackled so 
 much in the way of difficulties that a ghost more or less
 
 A GHOST OF THE SIERRAS 435 
 
 would n't be of much account. So they sent him to the 
 haunted cabin. He had a big yellow dog with him, about 
 as ugly and as savage as himself ; and the boys sort o' con- 
 gratulated themselves, from a practical view point, that, 
 while they were giving the old ruffian a shelter, they 
 were helping in the cause of Christianity against ghosts 
 and goblins. They had little faith in the old man, but 
 went their whole pile on that dog. That 's where they 
 were mistaken. 
 
 " The house stood almost three hundred feet from the 
 nearest cave, and on dark nights, being in a hollow, was as 
 lonely as if it had been on the top of Shasta. If you ever 
 saw the spot when there was just moon enough to bring 
 out the little surrounding clumps of chaparral until they 
 looked like crouching figure*, and make the bits of broken 
 quartz glisten like skulls, you 'd begin to understand how 
 big a contract that man and that yellow dog undertook. 
 
 " They went into possession that afternoon, and old Hard 
 Times set out to cook his supper. When it was over he 
 sat down by the embers and lit his pipe, the yellow dog 
 lying at his feet. Suddenly ' Rap ! rap ! ' comes from the 
 door. ' Come in,' says the man gruffly. ' Kap ! ' again. 
 ' Come in and be d d to you,' says the man, who had no 
 idea of getting up to open the door. But no one responded, 
 and the next moment smash goes the only sound pane in 
 the only window. Seeing this, old Hard Times gets up, 
 with the devil in his eye, and a revolver in his hand, fol- 
 lowed by the yellow dog, with every tooth showing, and 
 swings open the door. No one there ! But as the man 
 opened the door, that yellow dog, that had been so chipper 
 before, suddenly begins to crouch and step backward, step 
 by step, trembling and shivering, and at last crouches down 
 in the chimney, without even so much as looking at his 
 master. The man slams the door shut again, but there 
 comes another smash. This time it seems to come from
 
 43G A GHOST OF THE SIERRAS 
 
 inside the cabin, and it is n't until the man looks around 
 and sees everything quiet that he gets up. without speaking, 
 and makes a dash for the door, and tears round outside the 
 cabin like mad, but finds nothing but silence and darkness. 
 Then he comes back swearing and calls the dog. But that 
 great yellow dog that the boys would have staked all their 
 money on is crouching under the bunk, and has to be 
 dragged out like a coon from a hollow tree, and lies there, 
 his eyes starting from their sockets ; every limb and muscle 
 quivering with fear, and his very hair drawn up in bristling 
 ridges. The man calls him to the door. He drags him- 
 self a few steps, stops, sniffs, and refuses to go farther. 
 The man calls him again, with an oath and a threat. Then 
 what does that yellow dog do ? He crawls edgewise to- 
 wards the door, crouching himself against the bunk, till he 's 
 flatter than a knife blade ; then, halfway, he stops. Then 
 that d cl yellow dog begins to walk gingerly, lifting each 
 foot up in the air, one after the other, still trembling in 
 every limb. Then he stops again. Then he crouches 
 Then he gives one little shuddering leap, not straight 
 forward, but up, clearing the floor about six inches, 
 as if " 
 
 " Over something," interrupted the Judge hastily, lift- 
 ing himself on his elbow. 
 
 The Doctor stopped instantly. " Juan," he said coolly 
 to one of the Mexican packers, " quit foolin' Avith that 
 riata. You '11 have that stake out and that mule loose in 
 another minute. Come over this way ! " 
 
 The Mexican turned a scared, white face to the Doctor, 
 muttering something, and let go the deerskin hide. We 
 all upraised our voices with one accord, the Judge most 
 penitently and apologetically, and implored the Doctor to 
 go on. " I '11 shoot the first man who interrupts you 
 again," added Thornton persuasively. 
 
 But the Doctor, with his hands languidly under his head,
 
 A GHOST OF THE SIERRAS 437 
 
 had lost his interest. "Well, the dog ran off to the 
 hills, and neither the threats nor cajoleries of his master 
 could ever make him enter the cabin again. The next 
 da}' the man left the camp. What time is it ? Getting 
 on to sundown, ain't it? Keep off my leg, will you, 
 you d d Greaser, and stop stumbling round there ! Lie 
 down ! ' 
 
 But we knew that the Doctor had not completely finished 
 his story, and we waited patiently for the conclusion. 
 Meanwhile the old, gray silence of the woods again asserted 
 itself, but shadows were now beginning to gather in the 
 heavy beams of the roof above, and the dim aisles seemed 
 to be narrowing and closing in around us. Presently the 
 Doctor recommenced lazily, as if no interruption had 
 occurred. 
 
 " As I said before, I never put much faith in that story, 
 and should n't have told it, but for a rather curious experi- 
 ence of my own. It was in the spring of '62, and I was 
 one of a party of four, coming up from O'Neill's, where we 
 had been snowed up. It was awful weather ; the snow had 
 changed to sleet and rain after we crossed the divide, and 
 the water was out everywhere; every ditch was a creek, 
 every creek a river. We had lost two horses on the North 
 Fork, we were dead beat, off the trail, and sloshing round, 
 with night coming on, and the level hail like shot in our 
 faces. Things were looking bleak and scary when, riding 
 a little ahead of the party, I saw a light twinkling in a 
 hollow beyond. My horse was still fresh, and, calling out 
 to the boys to follow me and bear for the light, I struck 
 out for it. In another moment I was before a little cabin 
 that half burrowed in the black chaparral ; I dismounted 
 and rapped at the door. There was no response. I then 
 tried to force the door, but it was fastened securely from 
 within. I was all the more surprised when one of the 
 boys, who had overtaken me, told me that he had just seen
 
 438 A GHOST OF THE SIERRAS 
 
 through a window a man reading by the fire. Indignant 
 at this inhospitality, we both made a resolute onset againsl 
 the door, at the same time raising our angry voices to a 
 yell. Suddenly there was a quick response, the hurried 
 withdrawing of a bolt, and the door opened. 
 
 " The occupant was a short, thick-set man, with a pale, 
 careworn face, whose prevailing expression was one of gen- 
 tle good-humor and patient suffering. When we entered, 
 he asked us hastily why we had not ' sung out ' before. 
 
 " ' But we knocked ! ' I said impatiently, ' and almost 
 drove your door in.' 
 
 " ' That 's nothing/ he said patiently. ' I 'm used to 
 that: 
 
 " I looked again at the man's patient, fateful face, and 
 then around the cabin. In an instant the whole situa- 
 tion flashed before me. ' Are we not near Cave City ? ' I 
 asked. 
 
 " ' Yes,' he replied, ' it 's just below. You must have 
 passed it in the storm.' 
 
 "'I see.' I again looked around the cabin. 'Isn't 
 this what they call the haunted house ? ' 
 
 "He looked at me curiously. ' It is;' he said simply. 
 
 " You can imagine my delight ! Here was an oppor- 
 tunity to test the whole story, to work down to the bed- 
 rock, and see how it would pan out ! We were too many 
 and too well armed to fear tricks or dangers from outsiders. 
 If as one theory had been held the disturbance was 
 kept up by a band of concealed marauders or road agents, 
 whose purpose was to preserve their haunts from intrusion, 
 we were quite able to pay them back in kind for any 
 assault. I need not say that the boys were delighted with 
 this prospect when the fact was revealed to them. The only 
 one doubtful and apathetic spirit there was our host, who 
 quietly resumed his seat and his book, with his old expres- 
 sion of patient martyrdom. It would have been easy foi
 
 A GHOST OF THE SIERRAS 43b 
 
 me to have drawn him out, but I felt that I did not want 
 to corroborate anybody else's experience ; only to record my 
 own. And I thought it better to keep the boys from any 
 predisposing terrors. 
 
 " We ate our supper, and then sat, patiently and expec- 
 tant, around the fire. An hour slipped away, but no dis- 
 turbance ; another hour passed as monotonously. Our host 
 read his book ; only the dash of hail against the roof fr-oke 
 the silence. But " 
 
 The Doctor stopped. Since the last interruption, I 
 noticed he had changed the easy slangy style of his story 
 to a more perfect, artistic, and even studied manner. He 
 dropped now suddenly into his old colloquial speech, and 
 quietly said, " If you don't quit stumbling over those riatas, 
 Juan, I '11 hobble you. Come here ; there, lie down, will 
 you ? " 
 
 We all turned fiercely on the cause of this second 
 dangerous interruption, but a sight of the poor fellow's 
 pale and frightened face withheld our vindictive tongues. 
 And the Doctor, happily, of hi* own accord, went on : 
 
 " But I had forgotten that it was no easy matter to keep 
 these high-spirited boys, bent on a row, in decent subjec- 
 tion ; and after the third hour passed without a supernatural 
 exhibition, I observed, from certain winks and whispers, 
 that they were determined to get up indications of their 
 own. In a few moments violent rappings were heard from 
 all parts of the cabin ; large stones (adroitly thrown up the 
 chimney) fell with a heavy thud on the roof. Strange groans 
 and ominous yells seemed to come from the outside (where 
 the interstices between the logs were wide enough). Yet, 
 through all this uproar, our host sat still and patient, with 
 no sign of indignation or reproach upon his good-humored 
 but haggard features. Before long it became evident that 
 this exhibition was exclusively for his benefit. Under the 
 thin disguise of asking him tc assist them in discovering
 
 440 A GHOST OF THE SIERBAS 
 
 the disturbers outside the cabin, those inside took advantage 
 of his absence to turn the cabin topsy-turvy. 
 
 " ' You see what the spirits have done, old man,' said 
 the arch leader of this mischief. ' They 've upset that 
 there flour barrel while we was n't looking, and then kicked 
 over the water-jug arid spilled all the water ! ' 
 
 " The patient man lifted his head and looked at the 
 flour-strewn walls. Then he glanced down at the floor, but 
 drew back with a slight tremor. 
 
 " ' It ain't water ! ' he said quietly. 
 
 " ' What is it, then ? ' 
 
 " ' It 's BLOOD ! Look ! ' 
 
 " The nearest mail gave a sudden start and sank back 
 white as a sheet. 
 
 " For there, gentlemen, on the floor, just before the door, 
 where the old man had seen the dog hesitate and lift his 
 feet, there ! there ! gentlemen upon my honor, slowly 
 widened and broadened a dark red pool of human blood ! 
 Stop him ! Quick ! Stop him, I say ! " 
 
 There was a blinding flash that lit up the dark woods, 
 and a sharp report ! When we reached the Doctor's side 
 he was holding the smoking pistol, just discharged, in one 
 band, while with the other he was pointing to the rapidly 
 disappearing figure of Juan, our Mexican vaquero ! 
 
 " Missed him ! by G d ! " said the Doctor. " But did 
 you hear him ? Did you see his livid face as he rose up 
 at the name of blood ? Did you see his guilty conscience 
 in his face ? Eh ? Why don't you speak ? What are you 
 staring at ? " 
 
 " Was it the murdered man's ghost, Doctor ? " we all 
 panted in one quick breath. 
 
 " Ghost be d d ! No ! But in that Mexican vaquero 
 that cursed Juan Ramirez ! I saw and shot at his 
 murderer ! "
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 APR 19 1948 
 3 195tt 
 
 - 1 6 1952 
 
 EB 2 1953 
 
 - 
 
 B 4 1955 
 APR 12 1368 
 
 A MAR f 
 
 ftlAR^O 
 
 
 ; J 9-25yn-9,'47(A5618)444