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10 1905 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
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GEORGE S. EVANS. 
 
WYLACKIE JAKE 
 OF COVELO 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE S. EVANS 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 THE HICKS-JUDD COMPANY 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO, CAL. 
 
Entered According to Act of Congress 
 
 in the Office of Librarian of Congress at 
 
 Washington, D. C., in the year 1904 
 
 < 
 
 Cover Design by Henry J. Rodgers 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 1. Written in the Dust 1 
 
 2. A Matchmaker of the Foothills 16 
 
 3. When Understanding Cried Aloud at "Frying Pan".. 23 
 
 4. Enter Lizard Bill 34 
 
 5. A Personally Conducted Elopement 45 
 
 6. Why Wylackie Jake Went to Tehama 66 
 
 7. Exit of a Tenderfoot 78 
 
 8. Doyle, J. P. (Sub Title) Sidelights on the Capers 
 
 of the Law in Covelo 86 
 
 9. Beyond the Realm of Law , 98 
 
EDITORS INTRODUCTION. 
 
 This volume of short stories of the late George S. 
 Evans is presented to the public as a memorial to 
 his literary accomplishments and aspirations. Its 
 contents are the product neither of a mere beginner 
 nor of one long trained in the literary profession. 
 
 Mr. Evans had been engaged in writing for pub 
 lication only about three years. And even during 
 that short space, he had devoted to literary work 
 but the spare hours of a very busy life. The stories 
 printed here are but a few of those that he had 
 written. 
 
 The selections made for this publication, Mr. 
 Evans had himself planned to collect into a book at 
 some future day. He expected, of course, to add to 
 their number. But it has seemed to his friends 
 that he had already produced enough stories dealing 
 with the same characters and having the same back 
 ground to make a collection that would be acceptable 
 to the public. 
 
 These stories do not represent what Mr. Evans 
 would have become as a writer, for his work was 
 constantly improving. But a number of them were 
 deemed of requisite merit to be printed in the best 
 Pacific Coast publications, and the others seem 
 very little, if any, below those in interest. The 
 friends of the late Mr. Evans, therefore, have every 
 confidence that such a book as the present will please 
 a great many readers. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 George Samuel Evans was born June 5, 1876, in 
 Visalia, Tulare County, California. His parents 
 were James and Mary N. Evans. He was the elder 
 of two children, the other being a brother, Fred 
 Evans. 
 
 When George Evans was about fourteen years 
 of age, the family moved to Oakland. There he 
 was educated in the high school. He spent one year 
 at the University of California, then took up 
 the study of the law, and was admitted to the bar 
 in 1897. He devoted himself earnestly to his pro 
 fession, and had made steady progress in it. 
 
 In 1901 Mr. Evans entered local politics, when 
 he was elected on the Republican ticket as one of the 
 Library Trustees of the Oakland Free Library. To 
 this position he was re-elected in 1903, and was 
 serving as such Trustee at the time of his death, 
 May 26, 1904. 
 
 Mr. Evans had been connected with the First 
 Unitarian Church of Oakland since boyhood. He 
 was a member of many of its organizations, and 
 always an enthusiastic worker in its activities. 
 
 Reading was with him a passion. He loved 
 virile, robust books. The record of noble and stir 
 ring action never failed to arouse in him the glow of 
 enthusiastic admiration. He was also very fond of 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 books of humor. He felt the stirrings of literary 
 ambition several years ago, and while never relaxing 
 his attention to his legal practice, devoted his 
 spare time to writing. 
 
 Short stories, sketches of outdoor scenes, and 
 bits of historical writing came rapidly from his pen. 
 He met with the discouragements that most young 
 writers encounter, but his perseverance triumphed 
 over them, and in the end editors asked him to sub 
 mit work. 
 
 During the last two years Mr. Evans opened up 
 the vein of short-story writing that came to appeal 
 most to him. He perceived that his best literary 
 work was done in the portrayal of the scenes and 
 people of the rugged cattle country of Mendocino 
 and Tehama Counties, California. In the moun 
 tain fastnesses of these regions the cougar and the 
 deer still find a breathing space, and the people ex 
 hibit all the naturalness of pioneers. Mr. Evans saw 
 particularly the humorous side of the life whose 
 heart is the village of Covelo, in northern Mendocino 
 County. Had he lived, he would certainly have de 
 veloped this phase of his writing as his main liter 
 ary endeavor. But just as he was entering his 
 literary land of promise, death called him, and he 
 dropped forever the facile pen that was delighting 
 a constantly increasing number of readers. 
 
WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 WRITTEN IN THE DUST.* 
 
 Rumor had it that buckaroo Wylackie Jake was 
 a cattle rustler, a sheep stealer and a hog thief ; but 
 then Rumor in Round Valley is painted full of 
 tongues. Perhaps Jake should have been in a peni 
 tentiary instead of on Hammer Horn Mountain with 
 me. I say "perhaps," for I do not know. Had he 
 lived in a community of prosperous grangers, there 
 is probably no doubt but that it would have found 
 a way of depriving itself of his company, whether 
 the rumors concerning Jake were true or not. Pros 
 perous grangers are not romantic. But Round Val 
 ley is a frontier community given over to grazing, 
 and is possessed of the spirit of romance. It enjoyed 
 the rumors about Jake s skill as a rustler, and Jake 
 enjoyed the fierce light of notoriety that beat down 
 upon him, and slyly painted more tongues on the 
 already tongue-besmeared cloak of Rumor. There 
 is reason to believe that a line would have been 
 drawn to the toleration of Jake, even in romantic 
 Round Valley, had he ever turned his attention to 
 rumors about horse stealing. There was never any 
 
 * This story is republished here through the kindness of 
 Out West, in which magazine it was first printed in the issue 
 of September, 1904, under the title "The Red Cow Hide." 
 
2 WYLACKIE JAKE .OF COVELO 
 
 rumor about Jake and horses. He never talked 
 about horses except in a straightforward, honest 
 way. 
 
 All of the above insinuations place Jake beford 
 the reader in a bad light, and cause me to rush to his 
 defense lest he be viewed in the worst possible light, 
 without alternative. After a careful study of Jake, 
 I am forced to believe that he was either the most 
 consummate artist in the misuse of truth that ever 
 lived in California, or else he was what he posed to 
 a sprouting longhorn like myself a self-confessed 
 felon. Personally, I prefer to put Jake down as a 
 liar, but am not dogmatic about it ; nor do I condemn 
 him very harshly if the classification be correct. 
 Like a great many buckaroos, he was very talkative 
 when in the company of a city-bred hunter. As he 
 had not seen much of the world, and hence had little, 
 save hearsay, whereon to base many of his impres 
 sions and opinions, perhaps he had been forced to 
 draw on the springs of his imagination for conver 
 sational material. If you had never been perma 
 nently in a larger town than Covelo, with its 209 in 
 habitants, its five saloons and no reading room, and 
 had listened from early boyhood to the truthful tales 
 of old Mr. Doyle, President of the Round Valley 
 Sportsmen s Club, you would, in all probability, tell 
 the truth in a greatly magnified form. I say this for 
 Jake in advance, by way of extenuation, if the reader 
 conclude that Jake s tale herein reported was a prod 
 uct of his imagination, as I believe it to have been. 
 
 A stage driver told me that Jake was run out of 
 Laytonville for shooting hogs because he didn t like 
 
WRITTEN IN THE DUST 3 
 
 their owner, but the testimony of stage drivers 
 should be weighed with extreme care. Their reputa 
 tion for truth in the community where they reside is 
 bad. Between Rumor, the stage driver, Jake s ap 
 parent frankness and my observation of him, I am 
 placed in doubt as to his real character. 
 
 But one thing I do know for certain about Jake. 
 He knew where the "big bucks" were. The people 
 in Covelo, down to the stage driver, " lowed" this, 
 and they " lowed" right. I am willing to forgive 
 Jake everything he told on himself and almost every 
 thing the stage driver told me about him, even if 
 true, for did not Jake "place" me where I could enjoy 
 the fierce delights of the wilderness chase? I hired 
 him to do this because his advertisement promised it, 
 and he kept his promise. When I hired him I knew 
 nothing about him except what the advertisement 
 said, and if I went out to Hammer Horn Mountain 
 with a man who should have been in prison, I did 
 not know it. All of the rumors about him I heard 
 later. The rumors to a certain degree corroborated 
 what Jake told me himself, and of that let the fol 
 lowing witness : 
 
 Jake and I were encamped on Thomas Creek, 
 at the base of Hammer Horn. He called it "Tom s 
 Crick." The map of the Geological Survey shows 
 the name to be "Thomas" Creek, but that was not 
 Jake s fault. I was watching a pot of boiling beans 
 when my dark-hued guide appeared from behind the 
 tent, a large piece of rawhide in one hand and an 
 unfinished pair of bridle reins in the other. 
 
 "Where did you get that piece of rawhide?" I 
 asked. 
 
4 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 "Out of that alfora," he chuckled, pointing. 
 
 There was a moment s pause. 
 
 "Yes, I know," said I, "that is where you just 
 got it. But where did it come from originally?" 
 
 He sat down on the cracker box and commenced 
 braiding on the unfinished pair of reins. 
 
 "I have seen some fine bridle reins in my time," 
 said I, "but those you are working on double dis 
 count all previous work I ve seen." 
 
 He was not susceptible to compliments. He 
 grunted, and then, after a long pause, said: 
 
 "Perhaps the reason these bridle reins look so 
 well, and they are goin to look better when finished, 
 is because I know what kind of rawhide to make 
 em out of. Now, a red cow yields the best rawhide. 
 Nobody doubts that that knows it, but it ain t every 
 body that knows it. The colleges don t teach it. 
 You see, I have the advantage over the city snoozers 
 that braids reins for a livin , for they couldn t al 
 ways get a red hide, even if they was onto the trick, 
 while I always can. Some times in gettin a red 
 cowhide I ve almost lost my own pelt. But so fur 
 I ve managed to keep out of the way of mushroom 
 and other breeds of bullets. Gettin this here hide 
 almost made me a regular boarder of the State. 
 But I got that hide for a dollar, and some short 
 horns got run out of the valley for a bad shot they 
 didn t make. 
 
 "Just a year ago now I needed a red hide like a 
 maverick needs brandin . Of course I could have 
 gone to Jim Harper s store and bought one, but 
 that s too tame for me. What s the use of payin 
 
WRITTEN IN THE DUST 5 
 
 for things when all you have to do is to go and get 
 em ? A cow now and then ain t missed from a big 
 band, or if she is, an old bear gets the credit for 
 puttin her on the missin list. I yearned for a little 
 touch of high life, as you city sports say. One morn 
 ing early I lit out from my cabin, glued onto that 
 pinto plug, for Leach Lake Mountain. I had my old 
 44 Winchester with me, because I didn t know but 
 I might see a big old buck during the day. I went 
 past Gray s singin blithely that cow song with the 
 chorus, 
 
 " An it s hi yippie yea, yea, yea, 
 the dogs there a chimin in, hit the trail, crossed 
 Williams Creek and began to climb. A little before 
 noon I reached Brown s Camp. There was three 
 tenderfoot men a-campin there, and they wanted 
 to know would I stop and have dinner. Now there 
 are three things I can always do drink, eat and 
 smoke. It ain t often I get a drink ; and them short 
 horns did shore have some genuine nectar. Of 
 course I stayed and ate. As soon as dinner was 
 over the three shorthorns said they were a goin to 
 cross the canon and hunt deer; they expected to 
 stay for the evenin shootin , and would I care to go 
 along. I told them I had to go and hunt cattle, and 
 would they excuse me. If I had told them I was 
 going to hunt cattle I would have been nigher to the 
 truth. From their camp I urged that pinto plug on 
 to the trail and made my way to the divide on the 
 north end of Leach Lake Mountain. Do you re 
 member that place?" 
 I nodded. 
 
6 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 "Well, there I found some fresh cow tracks. I 
 took up the trail of the cows, and found they had 
 back-tracked the horse trail some little distance be 
 low it. I passed the head waters of Williams Creek, 
 and made my way down the canon. By this time 
 it was beginning to get late. Once or twice I heard 
 rifles crack, and judged that my tenderfoot friends 
 were a-tryin to make game scarcer. I looked across 
 the canon at the Horse Pasture. The Horse Pas 
 ture, as you know, is a long meadow-like ridge that 
 runs from Brown s Camp down to Williams Creek 
 at the bottom of the canon. About half way down 
 is a big spring surrounded by wire grass, and there 
 I expected to see my cows. I was disappointed at 
 first, for I didn t see nothin but a couple of white 
 cows, but pretty soon a big red cow comes a hikin 
 out into the openin from behind a manzanita bush. 
 I stuck the spurs into that old pinto, crossed that 
 rough crick and made my way up the Horse Pas 
 ture. Of course them wild range cattle was off like 
 a lot of big bucks when a hound gets after em. 
 Cow tails was just nacherally a flyin in there as 
 their owners skedaddled for the thick brush. I fol 
 lowed, and it was no easy work, either. More n one 
 buckaroo has had his topknot cracked in that coun 
 try while buckarooin . There was Smiling Dan. He 
 got knocked ofFen his horse by a overhangin limb, 
 and never saw nothin but angels after he got hit. 
 And Blue Jay Ford. He busted his foot wide open 
 in the same damn old brush pile. Pretty soon the 
 old pinto come up close to the runnin cows. I pulls 
 my old 44 out of the scabbard and rides up alongside 
 
WRITTEN IN THE DUST 7 
 
 of my bridle reins, riata, hackmore material and 
 lets a little sunshine into her. She just keeled over, 
 and that s all there was to it. I lets the old pinto s 
 reins hang down, stood the gun up again a pine tree, 
 and starts to work a skinnin . I had just finished the 
 job when I happened to peer through the brush, 
 and what met my eyes shore gave me heart action. 
 Who did I see across the canon a ridin along but 
 Tom Freeman, one of Frank Bell s importations a 
 lily white except when full of conversation water. 
 The cow I had killed had Bell s brand on her. I 
 could see Tom, but he couldn t see me unless I 
 moved too much. I didn t move any too much. I 
 rolls up the hide, grabbed the gun and dumb up on 
 to the old pinto and hiked out for the trail, stealthy 
 like. The backbone of the Horse Pasture was just 
 covered with tenderfoot tracks, and I rode right 
 among em. Of course Tom seen me, as I thought 
 he would. I knowed he was on my trail, and as my 
 trail means cowhide or rustlin , he was follerin it. 
 I thought if I come right out he d come right after 
 me, and so overlook the measly carcass. Tom 
 whooped, and I whooped back, and then Tom yelled 
 for me to wait, but the echoes in that canon always 
 did make me hard of hearin . I -put my old pinto up 
 to his best gait, but he ain t no genuine fast cloud of 
 dust, and besides he was tired with the day s wan- 
 derin , and soon I see that Tom was a gainin on 
 me. I didn t want to lose that hide, and maybe my 
 own, and so I made for the main thoroughfare for 
 the Valley and home. I rode close, and the old pinto 
 went up that Horse Pasture just a diggin . I makes 
 
8 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 my way into that tenderfoot rancheria, which the 
 same bein situate on a small flat. By this time my 
 old pinto wasn t frisky like a young lamb, and I see 
 I d have to lose the hide or be nabbed with the goods. 
 My hands were bloody, but I could explain that if 
 pressed. There wasn t no tenderfoot men at home, 
 and the latch string was a-hangin out ; but I wasn t 
 as interested in that as I was in a clothesline that was 
 a-hangin out, too. I pulled the old pinto plug up 
 alongside of it and hung my red cowhide out to dry. 
 Then I moved on. No, I didn t leave no other cyard. 
 I taken and made my way to the Weaver-Round Val 
 ley Trail at the top of the ridge. 
 
 "Judas Priest! When I got to the top of the 
 ridge, if there wasn t a big old four-point buck 
 a-standin with his head in the air, a-sniffin the 
 evenin breeze. Buck meat always did look good to 
 me. And I just put that old buck s rockin chair 
 head on to the ground in a second. I guess 
 I could explain how blood come on my hands now. I 
 goes down to where he was a-kickin his last, and 
 starts to dress him, when up rides Tom Freeman, 
 his bronco just a pantin and a sweatin . 
 
 " Jake, why in hell didn t you stop when I hol 
 lered at you? he says. 
 
 " Was you a hollerin at me ? says I, innocent 
 like. I thought you was a callin to some of them 
 shorthorn hunters or a talkin polite to stock, and so 
 I didn t stop to investigate, says I, whether you 
 wanted me or not. 
 
 " What s that red hair a doin on your shirt 
 sleeve ? says he, suddently. 
 
WRITTEN IN THE DUST 
 
 9 
 
 "I looked at my shirt sleeve in a deliberate man 
 ner, and there was several cow hairs on it from that 
 bridlereins material. 
 
 " That ? Oh, that must be some hairs ofFen my 
 horse, says I. 
 
 " Red hair off en a pinto horse, says he, a 
 grinnin . That s a good one. When you tell a lie, 
 Jake, says he, you always tell a damn lie, and so 
 audacious like that it makes a fellow too polite for to 
 call the bluff. 
 
 "I went on a dressin the buck. 
 
 " Did you hear any shootin just south of the 
 Horse Pasture ? he asks. 
 
 " Yes. I heard a 30 :30 go off down in there, 
 says I. 
 
 " Well, I heard a rifle echo from over in there, 
 and it was from black powder. You didn t shoot, did 
 you ? 
 
 " Nope. The only time I ve shot to-day was at 
 this here buck. But thinkin again, I says, knockin 
 the brim of my Stetson back, I believe maybe I did 
 hear a black powder gun go off down there. It must 
 have been Alf Redfield shootin ; he s down in there 
 to-day. 
 
 " That s another one of yours, Jake. Alf ain t 
 there at all. I met him and Jim Randolph and Ike 
 Wharton early this morning at the foot of Wylackie 
 Hill, bound for Red Mountain. 
 
 " Oh, well, says I, what s there strange about 
 who fired a black powder gun there ? 
 
 " Nothin" says he, except there s a fresh cow 
 carcass, with the hide off, down there, and your 
 
10 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 horse s tracks around the place, and I m almost 
 plumb positive I heard a black powder gun go off 
 down there about a hour ago, and you ve got a black 
 powder gun, an I think you re the man I m after. 
 I m a goin to take you to Weaver, Jake, he says, 
 after a pause, an turn you over to the authorities for 
 shootin that cow. 
 
 " No you ain t, pardner, says I, quietly turnin 
 the buck over on his back, a holdin my knife betwixt 
 my teeth. I don t know nothin about your damn 
 old cowhide except I seen it a hangin on a clothes 
 line down at that shorthorn wickiup. This time, for 
 once, Tom, you re all balled up on the tracks, Tom. 
 I think you ll find this here theery of the case is about 
 right, I says, rollin a coffin tack and lightin it. I 
 blew out a cloud of smoke, and resooms; One of 
 them shorthorns must uv killed your boss s cow, 
 thinkin it was a deer. That very thing happened 
 down at Long s on the South Fork last summer, 
 when a citified chap with a new gun just nacherally 
 bought more beef than he could eat at one sittin . 
 Tenderfoots mistake each other for deer all the time, 
 and a cow looks more like a deer than a tenderfoot. 
 I ll bet a tenderfoot or Alf Redfield killed your cow. 
 
 " Tour theery of the case is mighty interestin / 
 says Tom, but it ain t convincin . You leave some 
 evidence out of all consideration; and as for Alf, 
 why, as I says, I seen Alf down at Wylackie Hill/ 
 
 " Well, says I, Alf Redfield can back on his 
 tracks, caint he? 
 
 "He didn t pay any attention to this question, but 
 says : There s a line of your horse s tracks a leadin 
 
WRITTEN IN THE DUST 11 
 
 from that cow carcass to where the hide s a hangin , 
 and from there to here, and you ve been suspected of 
 this here same business before. 
 
 * Well/ says I, in a injured tone, I do hate to 
 have anybody doubt my honesty and word. 
 
 ;< Oh, hell, says he, sort of skeptical like. 
 
 "I lifted the buck into the saddle and began 
 lashin him onto the pinto. 
 
 " I ll tell you what, says I. Til go back to that 
 shorthorn outfit with you and they were shore 
 enough tenderfoots. The way they packed a mule! 
 If Johnnie or old Mr. Doyle could only have seen 
 it ! " 
 
 Here I laughed. 
 
 "You throw a hitch fair to middlin yourself, but 
 at first you was a regular lily of the valley at the 
 business. Well, them tenderfeet s packin was rawer 
 than yours ever was. They packed a mule so s he 
 looked like a header wagon. I says to him : I ll go 
 back with you to that tenderfoot place, and you ll be 
 convinced that I m as innocent of what you charge 
 me with as Sam Elaine was of shootin old Charlie 
 Porter. 
 
 " That s a likely idea, he says. If you are that 
 innocent you needn t go to Weaver, Jake. We ll 
 go down to the tenderfoot camp. 
 
 "I led my old pinto plug loaded with the deer, 
 and Tom followed. When we got down a ways I 
 saw a campfire through an openin and heard a loud 
 lafifing. We kept on, and the laffing kept on, too, 
 and soon we came to the camp. Two of the three 
 city chaps was still a laffin*. 
 
12 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 " What s the joke, pardners? says Tom. Tell 
 it to me and my friend here, so s we can all laugh. 
 
 " The drinks are on Bill/ says the fellow, han 
 dling the skillet at the campfire. When Frank an I 
 came into camp, damn me if Bill wasn t here alone 
 with a red cowhide a hangin on the clothesline, 
 lookin at the same in a quizzical manner. Frank 
 an I killed a couple of big deer over there by that 
 granite knob, but Bill seems to uv killed a cow. 
 Here he burst into a laugh, an Frank done the same. 
 I laughed too. Tom, he didn t laugh, but acted kind 
 of mad like. He looked at the hide, to see if it was 
 one of Bell s cows, an so did I. I knew it was for 
 certain before lookin , but I had a part to play, an 
 Tom wanted to make certain. 
 
 " Which way did you come up ? says Tom, po 
 litely enough. Right up through the Horse Pasture/ 
 says Bill. Frank, he up an says : Me an Jack come 
 up through the Horse Pasture an found a newly 
 killed cow down there, an when we come to camp 
 we found Bill a lookin at this here cowhide in a 
 quizzical sort of a way, an we think Bill killed the 
 animal. Here they both laired again. 
 
 "I felt real sorry for Bill. Innocence sufrerin 
 for guilt ain t such a fine sight when they are both 
 together, an innocence don t know that guilt is clost 
 to hand. 
 
 " I didn t kill that cow/ says Bill. I come up 
 through the Horse Pasture about an hour ago, an 
 got to camp, an stayed here a while an then I went 
 to the spring, an while I was there I heard a couple 
 of fellers a hollerin , an when I got back this here 
 
WRITTEN IN THE DUST 13 
 
 cowhide was a hangin on the line, an I could see 
 that gentleman there on the bay horse a goin up 
 through that pine thicket towards the main trail. The 
 tracks of two horses was right through camp. 
 
 " Oh, give it to us easy/ says his two pardners. 
 
 " That s what I m a doin / says he. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen/ says Tom. I guess your 
 friend Bill here ll have to pay for the cow ; he seems 
 to know more about it than anybody else. She be 
 longed to my boss, an I ll give you a receipt for the 
 money. 
 
 It looks as if you ll have to pay/ said Frank 
 and the grub wrangler to Bill. 
 
 " Damn if I pay for any cow I didn t kill/ says 
 Bill. I ll stand a lawsuit first. 
 
 " You might stand a suit/ says Frank, but it s 
 my opinion you d lose it. They tell me the only man 
 around here that knows anything about law is Jack 
 Johnson, an ex-convict, an he s only up on crim 
 inal law. They always appoint him bailiff when 
 they s a case on, because he knows how to maintain 
 the dignity of the Court, him a havin observed the 
 bailiff in the Superior Court at Ukiah. 
 
 " Yes/ said the cook man, you might as well 
 pony up, you ll get the rest of us in trouble if you 
 don t. Besides, you want to give up law an go into 
 the cattle business, an here s a chance to begin on 
 a modest scale a cow carcass an a cowhide. 
 
 " You fellows stop this monkey business an dig 
 up that money right away/ says Tom. I ve got to 
 get to town by some after dark, an I cain t waste 
 no more time. 
 
14 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 " You don t really mean that you expect Bill to 
 pay for that cow, do you ? says Frank. 
 
 " That s just what I mean, says Tom. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Cowboy, says Frank, we ain t a 
 goin to be bluffed into payin for a cow we didn t 
 kill. That feller there with you, with the blood on 
 his hands, looks as if he might know somethin about 
 who killed the cow. 
 
 " That s buck s blood/ says I, a holdin up my 
 hands. 
 
 " Til give you just two minutes to pay for that 
 cow, says Tom, a gettin off his horse, or I ll take 
 the whole bunch of you clear to Weaver for killin 
 that cow, an I guess you ll find it ll be cheaper to Day 
 for her than to make that trip it a bein over a 
 hundred miles by trail. 
 
 "Tom was shore a throwin it into em. 
 
 "Tom he up an says, Are you a goin to pay? 
 an with that he put his hand on his gun, and the 
 shorthorn called Bill up an says, How much is it ? 
 an Tom he says, Thirty dollars. 
 
 " Take your money/ says Bill, an Tom took it, 
 an then he up an says : Unless you fellows want to 
 run foul of some of the Round Valley Boys, I d 
 advise you to hike out for your native heath. This 
 here white man s country up here is a bein overrun 
 every summer by a lot of shorthorns that doan t 
 know putty from beeswax. Nor deer from cows/ 
 says I, an / says he, I m 1 a gettin plumb sick an 
 tired of it/ says he, his anger a risin . You ll have to 
 get off en Bell s land, anyhow. I ll let you stay till 
 to-morrow morninV 
 

 WRITTEN IN THE DUST 15 
 
 "An with that Tom rode off. I a havin the 
 deer on my horse an no mule with me, had to walk 
 down the mountain, an so I didn t go with Tom. 
 
 "I up an says to Bill, How much ll you take for 
 your hide? Oh, shut up! says he. Now, look 
 here, says I, perhaps I d better call my friend 
 back here. I ain t a lookin for trouble, but if you 
 ain t polite to me, you ain t polite to him. What 
 injures an degrades me has its effect on him. An 
 unless you talk to me real civilized like, I m a goin 
 to call him back. I ain t a quick an suddent kind 
 of a man, while he is, an does the fightin for us 
 both. 
 
 " Well/ says Bill, Til take a dollar for the hide. 
 
 Done, says I, a handin him the dollar an him 
 a handin me the hide. 
 
 " S long, says I to them, an with that I led my 
 horse towards the trail. 
 
 "The next day I met Tom in front of the Dewey 
 just at stage time. Them three shorthorns was 
 there ready to go, an when the driver cracked the 
 whip an the stage wasn t nothin but dust, Tom 
 he asked me to come in an have somethin . When 
 we had had a couple of drinks, Tom looks at me from 
 under his shore enough Stetson an says, Jake, it s 
 all over now, but didn t you shore kill that cow ? 
 
 Tom, I says, real solemn like, a lookin at him 
 straight, you just write that question in the dust 
 an the rain ll settle it. " 
 
A MATCHMAKER OF THE FOOTHILLS.* 
 
 "Well, Long John, how are you and your girl 
 getting along?" 
 
 "Long" John Jordan blushed slightly. His face 
 was so tanned and weather-beaten that it took a 
 very deep blush to make a slight one. 
 
 "To tell you the truth, Mr. Johnson, we ain t 
 gettin along at all, to speak of. I don t seem to 
 be making any headway, and I m almost clean dis 
 couraged." 
 
 He looked dejectedly at the horn of his saddle, 
 and rolled his quirt between his hands. 
 
 "Say, Mr. Johnson," he burst out, impulsively, 
 "they tell me that you re pretty expert with women 
 that you know all about em; that you can tell 
 when they re foolin and when they re in earnest." 
 
 Mr. Johnson s vanity went up several points. 
 He recalled that some of Jordan s friends thought 
 him a "little simple-minded," and he decided to see 
 how gullible the man really was. He hesitated a 
 moment, and then said in a confidential tone: "Yes, 
 I know a little somethin about em, havin been mar 
 ried three times. I ve had a chance to do a little 
 observin . But," he added, ruefully, "I don t know 
 all about em, and neither does any man. Generally, 
 just when you get one rounded up and are ready to 
 throw the rope, she stampedes, and then you have 
 
 * Accepted for publication by "Sunset Magazine. 
 
A MATCHMAKER OF THE FOOTHILLS 17 
 
 to begin all over again. It s easier to round up a 
 thousand head of stock than one woman/ 
 
 "You make the case out pretty gloomy," said 
 "Long" John. 
 
 "It ain t so gloomy as you think. They don t 
 stampede because they really want to get away; 
 they merely want to see if you ll follow. If you do, 
 you ll finally round em up. You ve got to keep at it, 
 that s all. Now look at the case of Jim Raglan. 
 Jim was in love with that Daly girl. She wouldn t 
 have anything to do with him, to speak of. I knew 
 the Daly girl, and I knew she was high-strung; 
 that the man that got her would have to be the ruler 
 of the herd. I told Jim this, and showed him what 
 he d have to do. Jim done it, and she s now Mrs. 
 Jim Raglan. And that ain t the only one. There 
 was Dutch Bill and his love affair; but that s too 
 long to tell here. Bill done what I told him to do, 
 and Bill got the girl, and I ve got Bill s everlasting 
 thanks for it now. I may have Bill s hate for it 
 some day, but I ain t got it yet." 
 
 "Mr. Johnson, I ve heard both of them stories, 
 heard em from Jim and from Bill. You done both 
 of them 1 good by your advice. I wish you d interest 
 yourself and help me as you helped Jim and Bill." 
 
 "Long" John had never before been confidential 
 with any person over his love affairs. He had al 
 ways maintained a sullen silence, or had burst out 
 into fiery expletives when chaffed about them, in inverse 
 proportion as he stood in awe of the chaffer. But 
 here was a man in whom he confided, a man with 
 whom he felt at perfect liberty to talk about his 
 
18 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 affairs. Johnson saw that he was making progress, 
 and continued : 
 
 "Young man, if you really want to buckle that 
 girl to you, I can tell you how to do it, 
 
 "Whoa, there, you Jake, ain t you had enough to 
 eat to-day?" 
 
 He jerked the reins, and the horse threw his head 
 up and champed wildly at the bit. 
 
 He perceived by the look in Jordan s weather- 
 beaten countenance that he wanted to "buckle" the 
 girl to him, and accordingly resumed : 
 
 "I ve known Alice Thomas all her life. She ain t 
 hardly the girl for you ; but since you re in love with 
 her, that doesn t make any difference to you. I ll 
 pass that fact by, and assume she is." 
 
 "Long" John turned his face away and looked 
 over the wide expanse of plain, with the snow 
 capped mountains in the distance. 
 
 "She s a girl that s kind of stuck up ; that is, you 
 think so till you know her. She s read a lot of them 
 old romances, and she s more stuck on some of the 
 trim, well-dressed heroes she s read about than she 
 is on any cow puncher around here. But your case 
 ain t hopeless. I understand Alice ain t showed that 
 you re the only man in the world for her, but she 
 hasn t fired you entirely, and when a girl don t do 
 that there s some hope. Now you are a cattleman, 
 aren t you ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Jordan, "I m a cattleman and cow 
 puncher rolled together." 
 
 "Well, you don t look like one. Where is your 
 blue flannel shirt, with the red silk handkerchief? 
 
A MATCHMAKER OF THE FOOTHILLS 19 
 
 Your hat looks as though it had been used as a 
 drinking cup. And where are your chaps with the 
 fringes on, and where is your gun man, where is 
 your gun ? Don t you know that women admire the 
 bold, free-and-easy chap? They like neatness, and 
 insist that a man look and act his part. You don t 
 look your part, and you don t act it. Now, I ll tell 
 you what to do. The next time you go to town, you 
 buy a big gun and a shore enough Stetson; fit 
 yourself up like a roaring cowboy. Then get on 
 your horse, and when you get to within about a 
 quarter of a mile of the Thomas house, spur him 
 into a run, and yell and take on some. Sing a 
 roundelay if you can. Women admire the chirping 
 troubador. If the dog runs out, take a shot at him, 
 and if you kill him, so much the better. He caused 
 my team to run away the other day. What you want 
 to do is to fix up so you ll look real Texas like. Act 
 your part. Just raise hell and put a chunk under it. 
 Do as I ve told you and you ll win. I must go on, 
 so long. Don t forget the dog." Johnson rode 
 away, chuckling to himself. Jordan, deeply im 
 pressed, spurred up his horse. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 It was almost sundown, and the mountain sides 
 were putting on their cloaks of shadow. Through 
 the space between the high peaks the red rays of the 
 sun glowed, and the fields of eternal snow were 
 slowly incarnadined. Near by the trees shook in 
 the breeze, crows cawed and magpies chattered on 
 their way to roost. The air was vocal with the 
 noises of the barnyard the loud bawling of calves, 
 
20 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 the cackling of geese, and the shrill, fiendish shriek 
 of the guinea hen. 
 
 Miss Alice Thomas sat on the front porch, ab 
 sorbed in a story ; one of the ranch dogs was curled 
 up at her feet. Far down the winding road a 
 horseman came toward the Thomas house. He was 
 gotten up in true cowboy style. On his head was a 
 "shore enough Stetson" ; a 45-caliber six-shooter 
 was in his cartridge belt. His saddle was silver 
 mounted, and long tapaderos hung from the stir 
 rups. He looked "Texas like." 
 
 Of a sudden he spurred his horse from a trot 
 into a lope, and from a lope into a run. The horse s 
 hoofs pattered on the hard road, and dust followed 
 in his wake. 
 
 "Hy ah, whoop ee!" yelled the rider. Fence 
 posts sped by, and the rider rapidly approached the 
 ranch. Miss Thomas looked up. The horseman 
 drew nearer. He sang: 
 
 "Then the bronc began to pitch, 
 
 And I began to ride ; 
 He bucked me off a cut bank, 
 
 Well, I nearly died!" 
 
 The dog arose, the hair on his back bristled, his 
 tail straightened ; he began to growl. 
 
 "Whoop ee!" yelled the rider. The girl stood 
 up, her mother came rushing to the porch. The dog 
 ran to the gate. 
 
 "Whoopee!" 
 
 "Who is that drunken idiot, Alice ?" 
 
A MATCHMAKER OF THE FOOTHILLS 21 
 
 "I m not sure, mother, but I think it s Mr. Jor 
 dan." 
 
 The dog ran swiftly up the road to meet the dis 
 turber of the peace, barking savagely. 
 
 "Whoop la !" yelled the rider. The dog snapped 
 at the horse s heels. The rider drew his revolver, 
 took aim at the dog, and fired. A startled yelp 
 greeted the explosion, and the dog rolled over in a 
 heap. The man rode to the gate, and, checking his 
 horse, suddenly leaped from the saddle and started 
 up the walk leading to the porch. 
 
 Mother and daughter walked forth to meet him. 
 
 "What kind of carryin on is this, Mr. Jordan ?" 
 asked Mrs. Thomas. "I don t see any occasion for 
 you taking on this way. What do you want to come 
 riding up here like a wild man for ?" 
 
 Mr. Jordan removed his hat. 
 
 "Well, now, Mrs. Thomas, you see " 
 
 "No, I don t see. I want to know what you mean 
 by carrying on in such a way." 
 
 Miss Thomas was thinking. She had never be 
 fore seen a man who so completely looked his part. 
 Many of the men around pretended to be cowboys, 
 but none of them looked it as Mr. Jordan did. Mr. 
 Jordan s fringed chaps, his blue flannel shirt and the 
 red silk handkerchief carefully knotted around his 
 neck certainly proclaimed his calling. His short 
 clipped mustache gave him a daring look. His sinu 
 ous muscles moved with easy grace. He had the 
 look of a man who could do things. Perhaps she 
 had been mistaken in her estimate of him. Perhaps 
 he was more of a man than she had given him 
 credit for. 
 
22 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 "Now look what you ve done you ve killed poor 
 Caesar out there," she heard her mother say. 
 
 A smile crossed Jordan s lips. 
 
 "It s no laughing matter. We don t live in 
 Texas, and I d like to know what you mean, fixing 
 up in such an outlandish manner here in California ; 
 and why did you kill Caesar ?" 
 
 "Now, mother, don t be too hard on John," said 
 Alice. It was the first time she had ever called him 
 John. 
 
 "Thank you, Alice, for taking my part," he said. 
 It was the first time he had ever dared call her Alice. 
 
 "I don t thank you for it, Miss Thomas," said her 
 mother. 
 
 "Won t you come and sit on the porch awhile, 
 John ?" asked the girl. 
 
 "I m sorry I killed Caesar, ma am," said Jordan 
 to the mother. 
 
 "I m glad you did," said Alice. "He has always 
 annoyed people by running out and barking. He 
 caused Mr. Johnson s team to run away the other 
 day. I m glad you killed him." 
 
 The mother haughtily withdrew to the house. 
 
 The next day Jordan met Mr. Johnson. 
 
 "Well, how d you come out?" was the question 
 of the latter. 
 
 "Oh, said Jordan, smiling, " love me, love my 
 dog isn t the rule in this country." 
 
WHEN UNDERSTANDING CRIED ALOUD 
 AT "FRYING PAN."* 
 
 Wylackie Jake and I were seated on a boulder 
 near the summit of Hammer Horn. I was getting 
 my breath back after our long and tiresome climb. 
 Jake was rolling a cigarette. 
 
 "It begins to dawn on me," said I, "that we ve 
 had a tough climb of it." 
 
 "Without meanin no offense," said he, "you re 
 mind me of some people that doan t never under 
 stand a thing until they ve been through it. Now 
 you ought to a knowed that this here mountain d be 
 a mean climb by lookin at it ; but you come right 
 along with me without doin any investigatin your 
 self, an now that you re up here, you begin to talk 
 about it a comin slowly over your system that you ve 
 had a tough climb." 
 
 He paused, finished rolling his cigarette and blew 
 out a cloud of smoke. I looked over the vast ex 
 panse of mountain waste. All around us were moun 
 tains piled o-n mountains, vast tracts of forest verd 
 urea wilderness ocean mingling with the blue sky. 
 
 * This story is republished here through the kindness of 
 the San Francisco Argonaut, in which weekly it was first 
 printed in the issue of April 25, 1904, under the title of " The 
 Big Red Steer." 
 
24 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 "Your condition of mind an your remark you 
 just tooted forth," said my guide, "reminds me of a 
 little happenin . You see that ridge away to the 
 south there?" 
 
 I assented. 
 
 "That s where pretense an sham stops," he con 
 tinued. "Over beyond it is a little mean world 
 where men pretend they re good an honest an up 
 right, and nobody there s got the nerve for to call 
 their bluff. An so they go through life a sayin 
 what they doan t think, an a thinkin what they 
 doan t say. They gold brick the widow an the 
 orphan an the poor into believin that they ve shore 
 got their interests at heart, when their own interests 
 is all they re a lookin out for. They use biled shirts 
 an white ties an silk hats as part of their tools. 
 
 "On this side of that ridge a man s rated at what 
 he is. There ain t so much crowdin an tramplin , 
 an you can stand off a hundred yards an study your 
 friends an acquaintances an enemies. This a bein 
 so, everybody gets rated proper. So long as you re 
 quick an clever here you ll get along, but you 
 mustn t never make a botch of what you re about. 
 We all here ll stand anything but failure. Now, I m 
 a rustler by occupation. Everybody in Round Valley 
 knows it one way an another, an I don t deny it ; but 
 does that put me under ground? Shore not. I ve 
 never been seen a rustlin , an I ve never been caught 
 with the goods. Consequence is, I m set down as a 
 successful man. If I done petty or mean stealin I d 
 shore get caught, an probably have a piece of hemp 
 put around my lily white neck an a crowd of ad- 
 
WHEN UNDERSTANDING CRIED ALOUD 25 
 
 mirin friends at the other end, an the limb of a tree 
 as my roostin place. When it was all over them 
 same friends d put me down as a victim of luck. 
 
 "But I m a successful rustler on a big scale. 
 Over on the other side of the ridge if I done petty or 
 aggravatin stealin they d send me to jail an look 
 down on me. But if I corralled a million or so of 
 somebody else s dollars, no matter what way, an 
 give some of it to a college, I d have my phiz in the 
 papers, an a statute in a square. If I done the 
 things over there I do here they d say I was tough 
 instead of ratin me as a man no worse than the next 
 one if he had my nerve. All of which leads me to 
 again say that whatever you do out here do it well, 
 or don t do it at all. If you re a goin to sell liquor 
 to Injuns, do up the job right. Don t bluff about it 
 nor theorize nor temporize. Just sell it to em. If 
 you re a goin to rustle, why rustle along the lines 
 that common sense dictates is best. This all leads me 
 to what I m a goin to tell you about. 
 
 "They s quite a bunch of fellows that works for 
 Frank Bell that thinks they re better n the rest of 
 us around here. They all air quick on the trigger, 
 good buckaroos an first-class bronco twisters. But 
 they ve got a lot of ideas that ain t native to the 
 soil here, an that s where the trouble comes in. They 
 shore has it in for rustlers like me an Alf Redfield. 
 Tom Freeman, an Jack Wilson, an Ernie Mason, 
 an Sam Blaine is always a lookin for Wylackie 
 Jake an Alf Redfield signs. Me an Alf knows the 
 mountains thoroughly. We doan t need no land 
 marks. That s where we ve got the best of the other 
 
26 VVYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 fellers all but Ernie Mason, him a bavin herded 
 sheep from North Yallo Bally to Sanhedrin, knows 
 the mountains first class. 
 
 "One time them four fellows was out a roundin 
 up some of Bell s stock, an somehow or other they 
 got the idea into their noodles that me an Alf had 
 rustled a big red steer the prince of the band. For 
 onct me an Alf was as innocent as I was of tryin 
 to bushwhack ol Jack Johnson the time they had me 
 up for that. Me an Alf was a huntin away over on 
 Windy Mountain, an them four buckaroos was a 
 makin Joe Meder s cabin on Frying Pan Flat their 
 headquarters. They come out boldly an accused me 
 an Alf of concealin the steer. I told em we didn t 
 know what d become of their old longhorn, an that I 
 hoped the day d come when that fact d be brought 
 home to em real suddently. I knowed they didn t, 
 or wouldn t believe a word of what I told em, an so 
 I hoped for somethin real stunnin in the divulgin 
 line. 
 
 "They s some people that doan t seem to be able 
 to round up nothin proper. You have to go at em 
 like you was a goin quartz minin . You have to dig 
 through their hair, an then you have to drill through 
 their skull, an then set off a big blast of giant 
 powder where the thinker works, before you can 
 make em understand. Some people just nacherally 
 has to have the whole universe put into a uproar 
 before they ll learn anything. You shore has to arm 
 yourself with a scaritlin an knock em down before 
 they ll believe anything. I doan t like people that s 
 hard of hearin . I m down on mutes, an I ain t got 
 
WHEN UNDERSTANDING CRIED ALOUD 27 
 
 no use for gabblers. These here people that acts 
 wise because they doan t know no better hadn t 
 ought to be allowed around. 
 
 "Me an Alf had a sneakin idea where the steer 
 was, but we all decided to find him an bring him 
 home to the lilies of the valley in a startlin way, 
 rather an to tell em about our idea. We talked the 
 matter over an decides that we d hit the under- 
 standin of them fellows about the same way a 
 mushroom bullet hits a buck, an that s a hittin in 
 a suddent sort of a way. 
 
 "So the next afternoon me an Alf went out to 
 hunt the big red steer. I thought I knowed where 
 he was, an so we didn t waste no time a lookin an 
 circlin around for his tracks. I knowed he was 
 somewhere in Cottonwood Canon. That wouldn t be 
 very useful information to everybody, because Cot 
 tonwood Canon ain t got no bottom to it, an it s all 
 cut up with rock slides, an timber patches, an 
 precipices, an boulders, an brush thickets. Why, 
 you could put a thousand big red steers in there an 
 not find hide nor hair of em unless you was a shore 
 expert buckaroo. I knowed the steer was in the 
 vicinity of a big deer lick a long way down, for I d 
 seen him there several times while huntin . If Tom 
 an Jack an Ernie an Sam d treated me like one 
 man to another, I d a told em where he was. But 
 when a fellow accuses me of stealin when I ain t 
 guilty, I m not a goin out of my way to help him 
 round up what he s a huntin for. 
 
 "Me an Alf slid down into that canon pretty fast. 
 Our horses shore had to dig into the loose rock to 
 
28 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 keep from goin down a flyin . They grunted, an 
 sweated, an snorted, an coughed. After a mighty 
 long time we all come close up to the deer lick. 
 Three or four ol does with their fawns, an a young 
 buck or two hiked out like sixty. I looks around, 
 an up on the mountain side across the creek was 
 the hunk of beef with the red hide on. He was a 
 sniffin an lookin around, the way a steer will. I 
 give a whoop an rode at him, an he rolled his tail 
 for the high spots, an me an Alf a follerin , hollerin 
 like a couple of buck Injuns at a Injun dance. That 
 steer just nacherally seemed to think that all buck- 
 aroos in the Valley was a chasin him, an he just 
 run to beat hell. My pinto ain t very young, but he s 
 old enough to understand the ways of a two-year-ol 
 steer. A horse doan t have to be very well up in 
 years to be able to do that. Of course the steer run 
 in the wrong direction. They always do. My old 
 pinto makes a circle to head him off, an Alf s roan 
 done the same. It was risky business. If you ain t 
 been in Cotton wood Canon you doan t know how it 
 lays. They s only one canon in all this here country 
 that s rougher, an that s Devil s Canon, off east of 
 Red Mountain. Our broncos was in danger, an we 
 was in danger all the time. A mis-step might uv put 
 us on the list of missin . After a long run I got just 
 above the steer, an like a fool throws my rope over 
 his horns. My horse stops short, the way a cow 
 horse should, an set back on his tail, an the big red 
 steer stopped like a choo choo that s run into a 
 boulder on the track. His suddent stop pulls my 
 horse down the steep mountain side, an afore I 
 
WHEN UNDERSTANDING CRIED ALOUD 29 
 
 knowed it I found myself a slidin just in front of 
 the horse. We was both aimed straight for the 
 steer. He wasn t a gettin up in a quick an lively 
 manner. Fact was, the shock had almost knocked 
 his daylights out. Alf come a tearin an whoopin 
 an scairt the life back into the steer, an he come 
 right for me s soon as he could get up. I pulls my 
 gun an was a goin to kill some fresh beef, when Alf 
 let his rope fly an caught the long-lost steer around 
 the neck. He wasn t active an agile like after Alf 
 give him a yank that pulled his props out from under 
 him. I gathered myself an my horse together an 
 rides behind the docile animal, the same a havin his 
 eyes a bulgin out an his tongue a stickin forth. 
 When he draws back I cracks him in the flank with 
 my shore enough Stetson. 
 
 "Now we was shore like rustlers, an if our 
 friends had a come along we d a been catched in such 
 a way we couldn t a had nothin to say. But we 
 knowed them fellows d gone to North Yallo Bally 
 that day, an so we was as safe from em as from 
 the Sheriff, him a bein in Red Bluff, seventy miles 
 away. We drove, an led our steer along as if it was 
 a suckin calf. Onct in a while he d try some funny 
 business, but by the time his ol topknot cracked the 
 ground four or five times he seen he was up against 
 a couple of buckaroos that shore knowed their 
 business. We led and drug him up out of the canon 
 an acrost the Saddle, an then over on the south side 
 of Windy. We finally got him to our camp an tied 
 him to a pine tree, where he bellered an bawled an 
 pawed the dust. We all got supper, an then I told 
 
80 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 Alf to turn in an let me set by the fire an figure out 
 how to bring it home to Tom an Jack an Ernie an 
 Sam that they was mistaken about us a takin the 
 steer. Alf knowed I d think up some startlin way. 
 Him an me has butted around together so long that 
 each has implicit confidence in the other on such a 
 layout. So Alf rolled up in his blankets an com 
 menced to saw logs, while me an the big red steer 
 sat up an ruminated about how we d surprise the 
 boys at Joe Meder s cabin the next morning. I sat 
 on a log in front of the fire an rolled cigarettes an 
 looked into the bright flame, a thinkin an a figurin . 
 I guess I figured on nigh onto fifty schemes, an none 
 of em didn t suit. I was just about ready to give 
 up an let the steer loose, when a idea struck me that 
 was so good an genuine I near hugged myself. 
 That s the way with ideas. A lot of measly, ornery 
 ones come a troopin down the trail a sendin up dust, 
 an a makin noise, bellerin an bawlin , an you shore 
 decides they ain t any of em worth roundin up, an 
 after a while when the dust s cleared away, along 
 comes one about sixteen hands high, weighin about 
 1,200 pounds, with his hide all shinin an a good 
 light in his eye, an you shore lets your rope fly, an 
 makes him yourn. That was the way it was with 
 me. I kicked the fire so s it flared up, rolled a final 
 coffin tack, an then went to snoozin on my spruce 
 bough bed. 
 
 "Away early I wakes up an kicks Alf out, an 5 
 told him to help me prepare for an early morning 
 surprise party over at Joe Meder s cabin. Alf 
 growled about me a gettin him up at such an tin- 
 
WHEN UNDERSTANDING CRIED ALOUD 31 
 
 earthly hour, but I says, Alf, if my idea s a goin to 
 be carried out we ve got to get over to the cabin 
 mighty early an before any of them boys is a stirrin . 
 After we get there, if my theories is carried out 
 they ll be a stirrin an steppin around pretty lively. 
 We ll furnish the beef for the surprise breakfast, an 
 the boys over there can put up the flapjacks an 
 coffee. 
 
 "Alf he wanted me to tell him all about it, but 
 I wouldn t give my plan away even to him. I told 
 him to do just as I told him, an he would shore get 
 animation for his money. Alf knowed I was a givin 
 it to him straight, an he closed up as tight as a old 
 bear in a tree middle of winter. We cinched our 
 saddles onto our horses an then rode over to see how 
 our captive prince was a gettin on. He was shore 
 mighty ugly, but me an Alf was uglier. Whenever 
 you run up against somethin that doan t just under 
 stand your ways, an backs up an balks an rairs 
 an paws the air, just back up an balk an rair an 
 paw the air worse than it does, an it ll walk right 
 up an eat out of your hand. Shore, that s a good 
 workin rule. 
 
 "I slipped the noose off en the tree, an Mr. Steer 
 give a jump like he was a howlin cougar a lookin 
 for fawn meat. I was a expectin some such move, 
 an so was my old pinto, an the steer wasn t a lookin 
 for ugly action from us. When he jumped, my old 
 pinto sat right down on his haunches. I wraps the 
 riata around the horn of the saddle, an the steer 
 stood on his head like he was an acrobat. He got 
 up an looked kind of cowed, which was proper, him 
 a belongin to the cow family. 
 
32 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 "1 told Alf to bring my red blanket, an Alf never 
 asked what for. He done just as I told him. We 
 all drove an led the steer up Windy from the south 
 an then down toward Frying Pan Flat. Joe Meder s 
 cabin is at the north end of the Flat, an faces 
 south. 
 
 The stars had just closed up for the day, an 
 a bluejay began a jawin at a chipmunk. Our old 
 steer wasn t very much on the fight by now, but I 
 lowed before we got done with him he d be most 
 ready to charge a snarlin old grizzly. I led the meat 
 up to within about a hundred feet of the cabin door, 
 an then turned the riata over to Alf.. I now gets 
 ofFen my old pinto an leads him over behind some 
 pine trees an left him a standin . 
 
 : Now, Alf/ I whispers, you give me that red 
 blanket. Alf done it. Now slip the riata loose. 
 Alf done that. Now hike to them pines an watch 
 the proceedinV Alf left me. The steer he didn t 
 know just what to do. I remembers now about 
 Spanish and Mexican bull fights, an shore decides to 
 import one to Frying Pan Flat, California. The 
 steer, he just pawed the dust up a instant, an put 
 his head down an come for me. I run as fast as a 
 buckaroo can run, and the steer come a chargin . I 
 made my way right toward the door of the little log 
 cabin, the steer right behind. He wasn t ten feet 
 from the door, an I give the blanket a final wave 
 right in front of him, an dodged behind the cabin. 
 Him a havin his eyes shut, he just nacherally 
 knocked the door right in as if he was a batterin 
 ram, an I guess he just plowed through that cabin. 
 
WHEN UNDERSTANDING CRIED ALOUD 33 
 
 I made my way toward the clump of pines where my 
 horse was, the steer a bellerin somethin frightful 
 meanwhile. When I got to my horse, I looked 
 around, and what met my eyes was shore a pleasin 
 sight to me. Tom Freeman come out of one window 
 an Jack Wilson out of the other. Sam Elaine back 
 tracked the steer an come out of the door, an Ernie 
 Mason popped up through the wide chimbley. The 
 big red candidate for the slaughter house bawled an 
 bawled inside of the cabin for a minute or two, an 
 then he backed out an give chase to Tom an Jack 
 an Sam, they all a havin on red underclothes. Them 
 three boys all hiked out in three different directions 
 for trees, an Ernie sat astride of the roof an 
 whooped an hollered an jawed an laughed. Ernie 
 has got a likin for a joke when it ain t on himself. 
 The fellows on the ground clumb trees like scairt 
 bobcats when dogs gets after em. The steer took 
 up a position midway between the trees, an pawed 
 an bellowed an shook his head. Ernie, he began 
 to get ready to get off the roof for a gun, I suppose. 
 " Now Alf, said I to him, come on. " 
 We rode down onto the flat from the pine thicket. 
 " *J a ke, says Tom Freeman, the long lost is 
 found. We hunters has been hunted up by the 
 hunted. It s a steer on us, Jake. Drive him away, 
 an you an Alf come in an we ll have breakfast. " 
 
ENTER LIZARD BILL.* 
 
 "There s some men that s bad by nature," said 
 Wylackie Jake, "others is bad because it s easier to 
 be bad than good. They s another class that s too 
 bad to be bad, an too good to be good, an they s 
 yet another class that s quiet and peaceable like, reg 
 ular Mary s little lambs, that don t make no noise 
 until it s time, an then they let out a blat like a old 
 ram. The first kind is easy to get along with, pro 
 vided they doan t get down on you an you let em 
 alone. The second kind is good at heart, but uncom 
 mon quick on the trigger when they s trouble in the 
 wind. The third kind is always a lookin fer trouble, 
 an generally findin it. You cain t bank on what a 
 feller of that kind ll do. Sometimes he s liable to be 
 a grizzly bear, an sometimes a sneakin coyote. You 
 kin always tell what the fourth kind ll do if you 
 watch their eye. When you see a little twinkle, git 
 ready for a Coroner s inquest. Now, what I m a 
 goin to tell you about ain t got nothin to do with 
 the first two kinds uv men. But I m a goin to tell 
 you about a fellow that thought he was bad an a 
 fellow that knowed he was when he had ought to be. 
 It s just the old story over again : The loud-barkin 
 dog ain t the one that bites the hardest. 
 
 *This story is republished here through the kindness of 
 the San Francisco Argonaut, in which weekly it was first 
 printed in the issue of March 7, 1904. 
 
ENTER LIZARD BILL 35 
 
 "Now, ol j Charlie Porter thinks he s a whirwind 
 of destruction. He thinks the sun rises an sets on 
 his badness. Of course fellers like me an Ernie 
 Mason an Alf Redfield knows the oF man ain t the 
 hell on wheels he claims to be ; but then we re copper- 
 riveted residents of this here valley, an knows his 
 ways. To a tenderfoot or a casual acquaintance, ol 
 Charlie Porter is about the same as a rattlesnake. 
 He ain t a man that kin be handled with lily-white 
 hands. Every man has got his hobby. It s some 
 men s hobby to ride all the buckin broncos in the 
 world. An it s some men s hobby to cause a whisky 
 drought. They s other men that ain t satisfied unless 
 they re doin a little rustlin or sellin liquor to Injuns 
 or doin somethin that ain t actually on the square. 
 Ol Charlie Porter s hobby is that he s the wickedest 
 swearer in Round Valley and vicinity. 
 
 "In a big town they ain t much call for a man to 
 be much on roundin up a string of cuss words an 
 then stampedin em over the landscape. But out 
 here, where they s mules an buckin broncos an 
 sheep an stock, a man s got to swear or lose his self- 
 respect. A stockman is always hot an tired an 
 sweaty an mad, an he uses swearin as one of the 
 mediums of expressin his feelings. Some men swear 
 easy an quiet like, an don t give offense to nobody. 
 There s ol Mr. Doyle ; he could swear before a parlor 
 full of ladies an not stampede a heifer. He s just 
 natural in his cussin . His powerful language is just 
 like bubbles along the top of the stream of his con 
 versation sort of ornamental, but not servin any 
 useful purpose. Then there s Jack Wilson he s 
 
36 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 from Arizony he just cusses for the sake of cussin , 
 an damn me if I doan t hate to see a man do that. 
 Jack s swearin doan t do any good. Ol Charlie 
 Porter kin braid a long bull whip of cuss words, an 
 wind up with a terrible buckskin lash of un 
 hyphenated ginger expressions. When ol Charlie 
 gets to jawin at stock he just nacherally brings gore. 
 Some men can swear this way without givin offense, 
 but ol Charlie gets so awful wicked at times that I 
 doan t like to hear him. 
 
 "Or Charlie has got a sheep range over at the 
 foot of Long Ridge, an only comes to town now an 
 then. When he comes to town he transacts what 
 business he has an then proceeds to step up to the 
 bar of the Dewey an punish straight goods. After 
 the liquor has had the required effect, ol Charlie 
 begins to boast about his cussin ability, about how 
 he s able to shoot out a string for five consecutive 
 contiguous minutes without repeatin himself. An 
 if they s a tenderfoot in the barroom, ol Charlie, 
 after he s had seven drinks, 11 challenge him to a 
 cussin match. Now, ol Charlie is really about the 
 most ugly man I ever seen, an that s sayin a good 
 deal. When Nature made him I think she collected 
 the ugliest man an the ugliest woman that ever lived 
 an rolled em into ol Charlie Porter. You take his 
 ugliness, his reputation for makin trouble an his 
 premier royal cussin , an to a tenderfoot he s the 
 Bad Man from Bitter Creek. So when he proposes 
 a cussin match most tenderfeet decides that they 
 shore has to humor him, instead of pullin his 
 whiskers. To compare the strained, stilted, weak 
 
ENTER LIZARD BILL 37 
 
 little wheezes of cussin expressions that a tenderfoot 
 blows off, to the expressive, elevatin bellows of ol 
 Charlie d be like comparin a miserable little popgun 
 of 22 caliber to a man-killin 45 Colt. But ol 
 Charlie thinks it s lots of fun, an keeps it a goin 
 until his eleventh drink, when he forgets about his 
 hobby an goes to sleep with his head on a cyard 
 table. 
 
 "Onct or twict in his time ol Charlie Porter has 
 run into a feller that couldn t or wouldn t squeeze 
 out the orneriest little word when called upon to do 
 so. I wisht you could see ol Charlie then. He jest 
 rips around an raves an roars an bellows an beefs 
 about it. When such a thing happens you d think 
 they was shore a round-up in the Dewey. Ol Charlie 
 has the habit of pullin a gun on such a tenderfoot 
 man an makin him repeat a few choice expressions 
 for the good of his general constitution. They ain t 
 nothin like swearin to round off a man s education, 
 so ol Charlie says. 
 
 "Now they never was a man that was so bad 
 they wasn t somebody worse, an they never was a 
 man so skilled in any line that they ain t somebody 
 better. All bad men runs into worse men, an men 
 that prides themselves on their swearin always runs 
 into somebody that makes their efforts look like a 
 bluff again four aces. Ernie an Alf an me always 
 lowed that ol Charlie d run into a tenderfoot some 
 day that d turn out to be a rattlesnake instead of a 
 garter snake, an of course we lowed right. Such 
 things is perfectly nacheral. Nobody s got a monop 
 oly of all the badness in the world. It s too bad they 
 
38 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 ain t, for then we could kill him an drink our liquor 
 in peace, Charlie Porter or no Charlie Porter. 
 
 "One day ol Charlie Porter come into Covelo to 
 buy some grub. As usual, he was a huntin trouble, 
 an as usual he found it, but this time he found 
 more n usual, more than he could really handle. Ol 
 Charlie marched into the Dewey an ordered drinks 
 for all hands. We d had seven drinks when in comes 
 a quiet-lookin feller with a steel-gray eye, an toler 
 able well built. Him a bein a stranger, everybody 
 looks at him quiet like. He walked up to the bar an 
 says, What are you a goin tew have, boys ? Now 
 that was a doin the right thing in a cow town. If 
 he d a corraled a drink all by himself an a left the 
 rest of the poor mavericks in the Dewey a lookin on, 
 he would a been put down as a stingy, measly lump 
 of tenderfoot flesh. But him a doin the right thing 
 shore argued he d been educated some in the right 
 way. Now ol Charlie Porter thinks he ll play smart, 
 an he goes up to him, an says : 
 
 "I m ol Charlie Porter, the Bad Man from 
 Long Ridge, an I kin cuss louder an longer than 
 any man in Round Valley. 
 
 " What you say is probably true, says the ten 
 derfoot. 
 
 " Probably true! bellers ol Charlie. Probably 
 true ! Well, if this don t just beat hell an bereft me 
 of the power of speech. This is shore the strangest 
 thing that s ever happened to me in my long an 
 eventful life. To think that I should ever ve lived 
 to see the day when my word should be doubted as 
 to my swearin ability by a longhorn. Well, I m 
 simply damned. 
 
ENTER LIZARD BILL 39 
 
 "He took off his hat an wiped his forehead 
 with a bandanna. 
 
 " Don t take on so, pardner, said the tenderfoot. 
 I didn t mean no offense. 
 
 "This is where he made his mistake. If he d a 
 run a straight out-an -out bluff on ol Charlie from 
 the beginnin , he d a had him down an out. 
 
 My tenderfoot friend, says ol Charlie, when 
 you said that my claim was probably true, you sug 
 gested that they was shore a doubt in your mind 
 about the truth of what I said, an then you told me 
 not to take on so. Now out here we don t allow 
 tenderfeet to doubt our words, an we don t take 
 advice from dudes that don t know a Winchester 
 from a Savage. To show you, my friend, that I m 
 what I claim to be, I m a goin to take on all I please, 
 an as for my a bein the worst swearer aroun here, 
 you an me ll prove that before this here intelligent 
 multitude, says he, a sweepin his hand around the 
 barroom. 
 
 "The tenderfoot didn t say nothin , but I seen a 
 light in his eye that told me he wasn t a man a 
 lookin fer trouble, but bein in it, he d make the 
 other fellow think he d run into a combined yellow 
 jacket, hornets nest. He just looked at ol Charlie 
 as if he was the kind uv people he d always done 
 business with. 
 
 "O1 Charlie waited for his awe-inspirin bluffin 
 words to sink into the intelligent multitude, an 
 then he says : You an me 11 cuss this matter out 
 before these here thirsty boys. I ll blaze away first, 
 an then you kin toot your infantile bazoo, an the 
 
40 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 boys here ll decide who wins. The loser ll have to 
 stand for the crowd three times. I ll begin. 
 
 "The tenderfoot looked on in a sort of a amused 
 way. 
 
 "All bad men has to have the first word, an 
 that s why they gets proved to be somethin other 
 than poison oak. They always give the other fellow 
 a chance to put in the last word, an that s what 
 counts, if it s a good one. If bad men d put in more 
 time a thinkin about the last word instead of the 
 first one, the Coroner wouldn t have to set on so 
 many bad men. 
 
 "O1 J Charlie began to saw the air an paw, an 
 then he let loose the foundations of his great deep. 
 If that flood had a been let loose just after Noah got 
 his livestock rounded up, the Ark would a been 
 shipwrecked, an none of us would a been here to 
 tell the tale. I d heard ol Charlie do some right 
 smart cussin , but this here effort of his shore eclipsed 
 all previous records. He stampeded the strongest 
 bands of cuss words I ever heard up to that time. 
 He didn t repeat, an he just stood there an talked 
 like he was mad at a lot of stubborn mutton. There 
 was just one thing I didn t like about his effort. It 
 was so wild an unnatural an wicked that it was 
 awing. There seemed to be an atmosphere of re 
 ligion pervadin the room. Ol Charlie just rolled 
 along to the end. He wasn t like a mountain stream, 
 turbid an quiet, an loud an gurglin , an wide an 
 narrow, an a splashin over boulders an then a hidin 
 under ground, but more like a broad river in the 
 springtime, all riled up an knowin 3 where it s a gdin . 
 
ENTER LIZARD BILL 41 
 
 Finally the ol man finished, an a kind of peaceable 
 calm come down on us. All of us was awestruck. 
 Ol Charlie had shore produced his masterpiece, an 
 he was proud of it. He up an says to the tender 
 foot, It s your move, pardner. The tenderfoot he 
 seemed kind of awed, an , being with strangers, 
 wasn t a choo-chooing forward. 
 
 "Ol Charlie he said, What have you got to say 
 to that, my friend? 
 
 "The tenderfoot he up and said, You go to hell. 
 
 "At that ol Charlie s neck just swelled up like 
 it was a goin to bust his collar, an says he : Would 
 you a mind a repeatin what you said ? Perhaps my 
 ears didn t just round up them words of yourn 
 proper. 
 
 " Anything to oblige you/ says the tenderfoot. 
 I said for you to go to hell, an I meant it. 
 
 "At that ol Charlie just pulled his gun an cov 
 ered that tenderfoot like a robber does a stage driver. 
 
 " Now, says the old gentleman, you will have 
 to repeat every word I say before this here crowd. 
 If you don t, I ll see about who goes to a warmer 
 climate. Now, then, you repeat. With that ol 
 Charlie got ready to start off. He had just turned 
 the first word out of the corral when we heard a 
 whoop outside, an jawin an cussin , an we all run 
 out to see what the trouble was, includin ol Charlie 
 an his victim. We see it was Tom Freeman an 
 Sam Elaine an Jack Wilson with a big bunch of 
 steers from off Frank Bell s range. Them wild 
 range steers hadn t never been to town before, an 
 they didn t know how to act, an the first thing they 
 did was to stampede. Well, sir, afore I knowed it, 
 
42 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 that tenderfoot had run out of that saloon an jumped 
 onto my old pinto plug. That horse is nine years old, 
 but he s from Modoc County, which is as wild a 
 place as they make, an he s never been rode without 
 him a havin a buckin spell first. When that tender 
 foot got aboard, the horse knowed it wasn t me, an 
 he shot up in the air all humped up like a steeple. 
 But he didn t throw the rider. Then he jumped stiff- 
 legged for a hundred feet, an then turned quick 
 several times, an then he jumped into the air like 
 he was a goin to fly, but he had shore met his match, 
 which he knowed. Then the fellow, he wasn t a 
 tenderfoot, took after that stampeded bunch of 
 steers an whooped an yelled, an finally turned em 
 back. Then we could make out what he was a sayin . 
 He jawed, an raved, an roared. He let loose com 
 binations of cuss words that was shore new around 
 here, an what he said had meanin . He seemed to 
 draw on up above an down below, on the earth an 
 under the earth, from the mountains an from the 
 trees, an from the air, from men an from stock. 
 An them cattle understood him as well as a mule 
 would. Sheep ! Why, sheep would a been plumb 
 scared to death. In the face of that, ol Charlie Por 
 ter s effort looked like a solid chunk of worm-eaten 
 misery. The tenderfoot rode up in front of the 
 Dewey, an the fellers cheered him, all but ol 
 Charlie Porter. 
 
 " The drinks are on you, Charlie, says Ernie 
 Mason, which the same a bein a sheepherder. Ol 
 Charlie he didn t say nothin , but walked over to a 
 chair an sat down an looked at the floor. We all 
 stalked, in, an 5 the tenderfoot that wasn t a tender- 
 
ENTER LIZARD BILL 43 
 
 foot says : That s a likely horse. Who s his owner ? 
 I am/ says I, proud like. Lucky man, says he. An 
 now that you boys here has heard the oT gentleman 
 an me disturb the religious-minded around here, it s 
 up to you to decide who s a goin to pay for three 
 rounds of drinks. 
 
 " Ol Charlie Porter, yells the crowd. 
 
 "Or Charlie, he got up an said he guessed he d 
 be a goin home, as he wanted to get to the top of 
 the ridge by sundown. He started out, when the ten 
 derfoot pulls a gun on him an says : Now, you old 
 white-headed bully, you just pungle up for the drinks 
 for the crowd three times or I ll make you get down 
 on your hands and knees an ask my pardon. 
 
 "There wasn t nothin for the 61 man to do but 
 treat, an he done it, but with ill grace. When we 
 all d put the three rounds of dark horse under our 
 belts, ol Charlie starts out, when the tenderfoot stops 
 him an says : It s due to you to know my name an 
 where I m from. I ain t got no cards, but I m Lafe 
 Hadley, called Lizard Bill for short, an I m from 
 near Tombstone, Arizony. 
 
 "O1 Charlie he didn t say nothin for a instant, 
 an then he up an says : I wisht I d a knowed who 
 you was when you first come in. I d like to ve in 
 troduced you to the Valley. An with that ol Charlie 
 went up to the tenderfoot that wasn t a shore enough 
 one, an put his hand on his shoulder an steered him 
 toward the bar, an says : Generally I don t take but 
 eleven drinks when I come to town, which the same 
 I ve stowed away to-day ; but for onct I ll break my 
 rule. You an me 11 drink without the boys for this 
 onct. What ll you have ? " 
 
A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPE 
 MENT. 
 
 It was early morning. "Wylackie Jake" and I 
 still lay on our bed of spruce boughs. The wilder 
 ness life of the day was beginning to awake, that of 
 the night had disappeared to cave, and hollow tree, 
 and brush patch. Almost directly over our bed, at 
 the end of a long branch, was a huge pine cone. 
 Just before every daybreak, during our sojourn at 
 this camp, several bluejays were accustomed to get 
 their breakfasts from this cone. All wanted to break 
 fast at the same time, irrespective of the fact that the 
 size of the table would not permit. The result had 
 been that Jake and I had been awakened every morn 
 ing at an unearthly hour by the noisy chatter of the 
 hungry. An open and notorious warfare had been 
 waged every morning over this blue jay free lunch 
 counter. On this particular morning the chattering 
 was shriller than usual. After several moments of 
 pecking and flirting of wings and chattering, one 
 bird seemed to be victorious. The remainder gave up 
 the struggle, and probably sought other cones. 
 
 "See what hoggishness 11 do," said Jake. "Now 
 some of them birds 11 have to go hungry because that 
 jay up there wanted to be the whole jay or none. 
 They s only one good thing about hoggishness, an 
 that s this : When a man onct proves himself to be a 
 
A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPEMENT 45 
 
 hog, you always knows what to expect. He just 
 moves along in a straight line from little piggishness 
 to the biggest specimen of the Poland China porcine. 
 It s different with love. Love is a funny thing." 
 "How do you know ? Have you ever been there? 1 
 "No, I haven t never been in love, but I ve been 
 on this here lump of mud nigh onto thirty years, an 
 I ve used my eyes an ears an thinker some, an they 
 all tells me that love is a mighty uncertain critter. 
 You see a man in the splendor of his manhood, eyes 
 good, hearin first class, muscles ready to take him 
 to the top of South Yallo Bally without him a havin 
 to stop an rest, an thinker a tickin away proper 
 like a old-fashioned silver watch. Meet this same 
 man a couple of days later an you only find a 
 bleached carcass of a man. He cain t eat, he cain t 
 sleep, an as for workin , why, one of them half- 
 breed Injuns from off the Reservation d make him 
 look like a cow pony alongside of a race horse. An 
 what s caused the ruin of the man s constitution? 
 Why, nothin but love. Love has turned this fine, 
 strong man into just a wabbly calf. Now they tells 
 me that love is a pink-faced kid, but I think he s 
 more like a big, strong buckaroo, an when he gets 
 one rope around a man s neck, another one around 
 his waist a holdin his hands fast to his sides, an one 
 around each leg, an straddles the victim out, the 
 victim ain t no longer got a mind of his own. He 
 becomes as helpless as a long-legged colt away from 
 its mother, an they ain t no tellin what he ll do any 
 more than there s tellin what a woman 11 do. The 
 mind of such a man becomes disordered. He thinks 
 
46 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 about doin all kinds of impossible things to show his 
 girl how much he loves her. 
 
 "I mind me of one case that goes to show what 
 fools love 11 make of a man, a woman, an them that 
 didn t have no more sense n to mix up in the affair. 
 It just goes to show the cussedness of love an luck. 
 
 "They was a fellow come to Round Valley named 
 LaFayette Hadley, called Lizard Bill, because he was 
 scairt of lizards, an because his name wasn t Bill. 
 That s one of the peculiar things about names up 
 here. We all calls Eel River that because they never 
 was a eel seen in it. They s a canon called Old 
 Woman s Canon, because they never was a old 
 woman seen near it, an never will be. An this here 
 mountain we re camped on is called Hammer Horn 
 because nobody has ever hammered a horn on it. Bill 
 was from Tombstone, Arizony, an got the best of 
 ol Charlie Porter in a swearin match the first day 
 he ever was in Covelo. He was a quiet, steady, un- 
 asoomin sort of a young fellow, a good bronco 
 twister, a rattlin first-rate buckaroo, an a savin of 
 his yellow boys. Bill was also quick on the trigger 
 when he had ought to be. He worked for ol Cattle 
 King Morrill the same man I work for when I 
 agitate for somebody except myself, which ain t but 
 seldom. 
 
 "Mr. Morrill had a daughter named Anna, which 
 the same had a college education an other up-to-date 
 fixin s, an was as purty as one of them heroines in 
 a paper-backed novel. Now you d suppose that a 
 girl whose father had cattle an sheep on almost every 
 hill in Trinity, Mendocino an Humboldt, who was 
 
A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPEMENT 47 
 
 better educated an anybody in the Valley, her a bein 
 able to read Latin an Greek an other languages 
 that s got a tombstone over em, an who was purty, d 
 be as stuck up as a stage driver. But Anna wasn t 
 that kind of a girl. She liked Frisco, an had been 
 to Paris an heard the Frenchman polly vou, but she 
 said she preferred Round Valley to the gladsome 
 delights of a metropolis. 
 
 "Anna liked to hunt, an they wasn t no better 
 fisherman around. Trout just nacherally seemed to 
 like to get caught by her. I ve seen em jump clear 
 out of the water to grab one of her flies, an none of 
 em has ever done that much for me. An sing! 
 Why, that girl could charm a chipmunk out of a tree. 
 When she was just a kid she could ride most any 
 bronco on the ranch. An nerve ! Well, onct when 
 she was out a campin with her father over on Shell 
 Mountain, she was alone in camp, an a cinnamon 
 bear come along, evidently thinkin that because he 
 didn t have no one but a girl to deal with he could 
 pack away a side of bacon an the syrup can. When 
 the ol man come back he found that it was a cer 
 tainty that the fry in pan d shore have bear meat in 
 it for breakfast. So you kin see that Miss Anna 
 Morrill d have the active support of every man 
 that wore a shore enough Stetson an could ride a 
 bronco. None of our style of men that wouldn t a 
 raised hell an put a chunk under it for Miss Anna 
 Morrill. That ain t a sayin that we all was in love 
 with her. Sometimes I think a man s liable to think 
 more of a woman than the word love ll express. That 
 was our fix. , None of us never thought there was 
 
48 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 any hope for us, expectin that some hard-hat dude 
 man that never cussed, an always went to church 
 with his mother d shore round up the pride of the 
 Valley. That wasn t the way it worked out, an that s 
 one of the mysteries of this here love game. 
 
 "After Bill had been around a while an had made 
 friends of everybody around but ol Charlie Porter 
 an Frank Bell s outfit, I noticed a change in him real 
 suddently. He didn t seem to take no pride in his 
 work ; a measly bronco twisted him off. At night 
 in the bunkhouse I d hear him turn over real often. 
 Onct when a lot of stock stampeded he didn t get 
 very mad, an I noticed that he forgot to swear at all. 
 At the table he didn t eat enough to keep a hog 
 cholera microbe from losin weight. When spoken 
 to he didn t have much to say, an didn t seem to put 
 what you said into his corral at all. Now I knowed 
 them signs. Ever since I was a small boy I ve had 
 lots of chances to watch people, an I ve watched em 
 with about the same degree of attention as a dog does 
 a pine squirrel a settin up on a limb about thirty 
 feet up, a chatterin an friskin away. Not that I m 
 curious about people, but what a man learns about 
 em from watchin em is apt to come in as handy as 
 a gun in a barroom row. You cain t know too much 
 about people. I don t go as much on what you learn 
 from books about em as I do on what you kin learn 
 about em yourself if you keep your lamps trimmed. 
 I knew the meanin of them signs around Bill as well 
 as I know they s a perpetual spring wherever they s 
 a alder grove a growin . A man a actin that a way 
 ain t a actin natural, an 5 when a man ain t a actin 
 natural, he s either sick or in love." 
 

 
 A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPEMENT 49 
 
 "Or in trouble," I ventured to suggest. 
 
 "No. You re wrong there. Every man from 
 Teddy Roosevelt down is in trouble from the day 
 of his birth to the day of his death ; bein in trouble 
 is the natural condition of us all. I knowed Bill 
 wasn t sick, an so I guessed he must be in love, 
 probably roped an branded by it. As soon as I 
 comes to this conclusion, I wonders who he s in love 
 with. There ain t many girls in the Valley, an so the 
 guessin chances as to who she was, was limited. I 
 runs all the girls in the Valley through the corral an 
 into the cars, but wasn t able to make up my mind 
 which one had put her brand on Bill. Onct or twict 
 I thought I had the right one roped, but it come over 
 me that a sensible fellow like Bill d have better sense 
 an to lose his appetite an sleep over such as them. 
 Finally I got all balled up on the proposition. I was 
 like a fellow in the mountains that strikes a nice 
 plain trail that apparently leads to some place worth 
 goin to, an he follows it, an follows it, an finally 
 comes to a meadow, a nice, purty one, an then he 
 cain t find what becomes of the trail. It just seems 
 to come to a stop no reason for it a havin led there, 
 an shore no reason for it a havin stopped there. 
 Thinks I to myself, here shore is a mystery that Nick 
 Carter d like to tackle an solve. Bill s in love, all 
 right, an in love with a girl right here in this Valley, 
 but which one, an is she as gone on him as he is on 
 her ? Have you ever tried to find the combination to 
 a puzzle like that? I ve done some tall thinkin an 
 observin in my time when out a tryin to round up a 
 bunch of steers that s disappeared, but I never trailed 
 
50 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELQ 
 
 an circled around half as hard at that as I did a 
 lookin for Bill s tracks of love. 
 
 "Bill kept a gettin worse an more of it, an I 
 kept a tryin to find out the swishin petticoats that 
 had put Bill to the bad. Of course I found out who 
 she was, as I knowed I would. There ain t no way 
 of findin out a thing except by keepin at it, an the 
 way I found out was a perfectly natural way. I was 
 the only one in the Valley that suspected what was 
 the real trouble with Bill, an Bill didn t suspect that 
 anybody, even me, d tumble to what was a eatin 
 him. Consequence was that Bill wasn t on his guard 
 the way a big buck with a tree on his head an a inch 
 of fat on his hams always is, a snififin an a turnin 
 around. 
 
 "One mornin me an Bill was due to leave Mer 
 rill s ranch for the vicinity of Blocksburg, where we 
 was a goin to do some roundin up. We cinched 
 our saddles onto our horses, each stuck a Winchester 
 in its scabbard an a gun in his belt, an then com 
 menced packin a couple of wild, rearin , plungin 
 mules. Miss Anna Morrill come out to the ranch 
 house, probably havin heard me a talkin to the mules 
 in the only lingo they savvy. When she come near, 
 you bet I changed my style of conversation, an talked 
 to them wall-eyed, slab-sided imps of perdition like 
 we all was a settin in a parlor. We finally got the 
 hitches slung, tied a water bucket on top of one pack, 
 an was ready. I swung into my saddle, an Bill 
 swung into his. S long, Miss Morrill, says I, a 
 takin off my hat, an with that I whacked them two 
 mules with my quirt an started em for the road. I 
 
A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPEMENT 51 
 
 looked back suddently, an dang me if Bill wasn t a 
 throwin a kiss to the daughter of ol Cattle King 
 Morrill, an she was a throwin one to him. That 
 give the whole story away to me. I rode on almost 
 dazed by the suddent light that struck me. I was as 
 clost to bein plumb loco then as ever in my life. I 
 feared for Bill, an I feared for the girl. Ol man 
 Morrill is as quick on the trigger as I am on the eat, 
 an he s got a deep bass voice when he gets mad that 
 makes you think he s in a bear fight. Moreover, he 
 thinks they never was such a girl in the world as 
 his n. Bill didn t have nothin , so far as I knowed, 
 except prospects, an two cain t live on them, al 
 though they always think they kin. Of course some 
 day Anna d inherit all the ol man s property; but 
 that day looked to be as far off as the Sierra Nevada 
 from here, him a bein sixty an able to stand as much 
 as a fellow of thirty. Thinks I, no good can come of 
 any such match as these two seem to be a hankerin 
 to enter into. So I smokes a cigarette an tried to 
 think up a way of stampedin the ol man in the right 
 direction. Me an the ol man has always got along 
 first rate. He says our ideas of mine and thine is 
 about the same, an that we both has ideas native to 
 the soil of a cow country. 
 
 "Pretty soon Bill caught up with me. He looked 
 kind of downcast, as if he was a sheep that d broke 
 away from the main band an was a expectin a 
 cougar to gather him in. We rides side by side down 
 the road toward Covelo, the mules a hikin on ahead. 
 We come to town, an I says, Bill, let s have a final 
 round afore we hits the high spots where the water s 
 
52 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 good an whisky ain t to be had. Bill was agreeable, 
 an we had a couple of jolts an went out in front of 
 the Dewey. Ol Mr. Doyle was a standin there, an 
 he up an says : Mornin , Jake an Bill. Where air 
 you bound for this time ? We re a goin up clost to 
 Blox, says I, an mighty glad to get a change of 
 scene. I think that s all right for you/ says the ol 
 man to me, but Bill don t seem to be very anxious to 
 go. W 7 hat s been the matter with you lately, Bill? 
 You doan t act like yourself. You ve been a actin 
 like a dang fool lately, or a man in love, an they ain t 
 no special difference. Oh, dry up, says Bill. I 
 cain t, says the ol man, for I ain t no pool of water. 
 I looked at Bill, an Bill was shore a blushin . Well, 
 says I, let s straddle the broncos an hike out for the 
 home of the suckin calf an the hookin mother. We 
 jumped into our saddles an started the mules north. 
 "W T e rode along, me a singin a cow song an 1 a 
 thinkin how glad I was to be on the way to the 
 high land. There ain t no place like the wilderness 
 to me. Bill wasn t a sayin nothin , an was a lookin 
 as glum as a lost dog. Finally I up an says : Bill, 
 that s a mighty bad an foolish thing for you to do a 
 makin love to Anna Morrill. It ain t likely to be 
 what you might call popular with the ol man. Bill 
 he flared up like a rattlesnake when a man comes a 
 near, an says, Jake, I wisht you d tend to your own 
 business. Well, Bill, says I, I m a goin to, an 
 I m only a speakin because I don t want to tend 
 your funeral. You re a goin to get into trouble, 
 Bill, if you don t let up, an I wouldn t bet a dollar 
 watch again a pair of dogskin chaps on who ll win 
 
A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPEMENT 53 
 
 if you run afoul of ol man Morrill. More n one 
 man has tried monkey business with him, an always 
 the Coroner has brought in a verdick of justifiable 
 homicide. Now, if I was in your place, I d stop 
 right where I was an backtrack my steps. No, 
 Jake, says he, you wouldn t. No man in love 
 would. Bill, says I, I don t know nothin at first 
 hand about love, but I guess you re right. What are 
 you an Anna a goin to do about this business ? We 
 don t know/ says he. Nor do I, says I. But if we 
 was only over in Tehama County an could lay the 
 case before Cam. Johnson, the "Matchmaker of the 
 Foothills," they ain t no doubt about him a knowin 
 what to do. He fixed up the matrimonial leanin s of 
 Dutch Bill, an Jim Raglan, an Long John Jordan 
 as nice as ol Mr. Putnam, the blacksmith, sets a 
 tire. Well, we ain t in Tehama, an we re a goin to 
 the wilderness. Maybe when we get out there I ll 
 be able for to think up some kind of a plan that ll 
 enable you all to marry an live happy ever after. 
 You a bein in love ain t got no sense, an of course 
 you won t be able to think of nothin but the girl. 
 When I think of a feasible plan, I ll say something 
 an not until. Does that bear the O. K. brand? 
 Shore, says Bill, an with that we began to talk 
 about a one-horse sky pilot that d had a row with a 
 horse doctor in Covelo. 
 
 "We rode on an on, an finally come to the moun 
 tains, an then we rode on for a couple of days more, 
 comin into camp one evenin just as Ike Wharton 
 an Alf Redfield an Johnnie Gray was a goin to 
 have supper. They just said, Howdy, boys, an 
 
54 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 then me an Bill yanked our saddles off an give the 
 hitches a pull an piled up blankets an f ryin pans an 
 coffee pots an grub on the ground. An then we all 
 knelt down to supper. Alf had killed a deer, an the 
 way I ate was a good deal like the way a prize 
 fighter eats after his trainin days are over. Bill he 
 didn t eat enough to keep a snowbird from becomin 
 emaciated. 
 
 "We all started to work the next mornin , an 
 kept at it about a week. I was a thinkin all the time 
 about some way of helpin Bill out of his trouble. I 
 was sincere, for I liked Bill, an didn t want no Cor 
 oner s inquest held over him. When I feels that way 
 about a man, I d go from hell to breakfast for him. 
 I finally concludes that since ol man Morrill is a 
 quick an suddent kind of a man, the thing for Anna 
 an Bill to do was to be a little mite suddenter an 
 quicker. They ain t nothin like beatin a man at his 
 own game. Now I never was much on details about 
 marriages. I only know you ve got to get a permit, 
 an a Gospel sharp, an a man an woman willin , an 
 a couple of witnesses, to have a proper matrimonial 
 alliance. That information is all right for what it is, 
 but they s a lot of little details, like kissin the bride, 
 an honeymoon trips an all that, that I don t know 
 anything about. Thinks I, the thing for them cooin 
 birds to do is to fly away some morning to Tehama, 
 over to Cam. Johnson s, with me a actin as guide an 
 grand master of ceremonies. I knowed that when 
 we all onct got over to Johnson s, they d be a weddin 
 done up right. I knowed that Cam. Johnson wouldn t 
 make no mistakes. He d never put wool in a sack 
 
A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPEMENT 55 
 
 made to hold Murphies. I thinks out the whole 
 scheme, a figurin on what trail to take, how to throw 
 the enemy off in case we was chased, an how, when 
 we got acrost the mountains, I d take Bill an Anna 
 to Cam. s house an then I d ride on to Red Bluff an 
 get a license, an come back with it, an then the Jus 
 tice of the Peace at Lowrey s could perform the cere 
 mony. They ain t nothin like bein ready for trouble 
 when you hear it a sneakin in the brush around 
 camp. Me an Bill worked together all the time, but 
 I didn t say a thing to him about what I knowed was 
 a tearin at his mind. I don t generally talk about 
 a thing until I ve made up the whole scheme an tied 
 it up in a bundle, wound with pink ribbon, an then 
 I m ready to speak volumes. A couple of days before 
 we was ready to leave the mountains I goes out with 
 Bill, as usual, an I says to him, as nearly as I kin 
 recollect : 
 
 " Bill, I suppose you ain t lost none of your 
 tender feelin s for Miss Morrill ? 
 
 " No, Jake, says he. You re right. I never 
 ought to a come on this trip. I ain t been worth a 
 whoop. Why, a three months calf is more n I kin 
 handle now. 
 
 " Well, says I, you are shore a goin to make 
 yourself mighty unpopular with ol man Morrill. I 
 don t blame you for fallin in love with the girl, an I 
 must say, Bill, to be truthful, that I don t blame her 
 for fallin in love with you. If I was ol man 
 Morrill they d be a weddin where six-shooters wasn t 
 part of the wearin apparel of the male guests. But 
 facts is facts, an they are as stubborn as a mule when 
 
56 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 they s a rattlesnake on the trail. I ain t ol man 
 Morrill any more than he s me. So the question is, 
 What shall the young man an the young woman do ? 
 I ve thought the matter over some, an shall now give 
 you my opinion. I don t like to get personal, but 
 how much are you worth, Bill? Oh, says Bill, a 
 thinkin , nigh onto $3,000. That s better than I 
 thought. Now, what you an Anna has got to do is 
 to let me boss this here job, an I ll have you spliced 
 so s it ll take a fat-faced Judge an a courtroom of 
 jabberin lawyers to get you separated. Bill s face 
 lighted up, an I could see he was glad I was a talkin 
 to him. A man in love has got to have somebody to 
 lean on. 
 
 " Now, says I, you an Anna an me will take a 
 little trip over to Tehama County when we get in 
 from this round-up. An when we come back you 
 an Mrs. LaFayette Hadley can make the trip by way 
 of Frisco, while I go back by way of the trail. How 
 does that idea jibe with your system? Til fix it up 
 with Anna, says Bill. So it was all arranged be 
 tween me an Bill. 
 
 "We all slowly drove the rounded-up stock 
 towards the Valley, me a singin , Oh, ain t I glad to 
 get out of the wilderness, an Bill a brightenin up 
 the closer we come to home. When we had put the 
 beef victims of man s eatin powers into the big 
 field, I seen Bill ride off towards the house, an I seen 
 somebody flutter somethin white at Miss Anna s 
 window, an I seen Bill take off his hat. 
 
 "The next day me an Bill had to pack some grub 
 over to a camp on Wylackie Hill, an Bill told me 
 
A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPEMENT 57 
 
 that him an his financee was willin to entrust their 
 happiness into my hands. Bill said that his girl was 
 for tellin the old gentleman all about the affair, an 
 then holdin the threat of an elopement over his head 
 unless he d consent to a weddin . But Bill said he 
 wasn t a goin up against four aces with nothin but 
 a bob-tail flush, an Anna saw the point an caved in. 
 "So it was all arranged that me an Bill should 
 get five days off to go on a hunt. Miss Anna, the day 
 we started, was to get on her horse like she was a 
 goin for a ride, an then meet us up at the forks of 
 Williams Creek. It takes about three days to go over 
 the mountains to Lowrey s, near where Cam. John 
 son lives, an so we took along a camp outfit on a 
 couple of mules. Bill an I each took along a six- 
 shooter an a Winchester, an ammunition enough to 
 kill off all the unwillin fathers in California. Me an 
 Bill started as arranged. We went east an then 
 skirted the hills to the north, an then hoofed past 
 Gray s, an come to the forks, where we an the 
 sweatin mules stopped. I felt somewhat uneasy. 
 It s risky business a helpin a millionaire s daughter 
 run away to marry a buckaroo with only $3,000 an 
 a Winchester an a six-shooter an prospects. Bill 
 looked kind of pale around the gills, but he had that 
 twinkle in the eye which shore shows determination. 
 I got offen my pinto an let him go a grazin . Bill 
 took his Winchester outen the scabbard an stood by 
 his bald-faced horse. After what seemed a long 
 time I heard the hoof beats of a horse a comin along 
 the trail, an on lookin up saw Bill s girl a comin . 
 My, but she was purty ! She had on a shore enough 
 
58 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 Stetson, an a gray habit, an if she didn t have a rifle, 
 too. She smiled an says, LaFayette, what are you 
 doing with the rifle out of the scabbard ? I up an 
 says, He just seen a big buck up there in the brush, 
 an tried to get a shot at him. I didn t want Bill to 
 have to say that he was ready to shoot her fathef if 
 he had to. That wouldn t a done. Bill he walked 
 up to where she was a settin on her bay an took one 
 of her hands in his, an she leant over an kissed him. 
 Here, now/ says I, no spoonin while I m in charge. 
 When I get you all acrost the mountains before a 
 Justice of the Peace or a Gospel sharp, you can 
 spoon, but till then it s against the rules of El 
 Capitan. We ain t on pleasure bent now. Straddle 
 your horse, Bill. You an Miss Morrill drive them 
 two mistakes of nature forward. I ll ride away be 
 hind a actin as a sort of rear guard. We hiked up 
 the trail this way for a couple of hours, when I come 
 up on Anna an Bill a talkin to Ernie Mason. They 
 were a tellin him we were a goin to Brown s camp 
 for the day, but Ernie said we must have big appe 
 tites on a one-day s picnic, havin to have two pack 
 mules to carry the grub. Ernie had us there, but 
 he s a good-natured chap, an didn t press the point. 
 If I d a been with em when Ernie come along I d a 
 told a better story than Anna an Bill did to Ernie ; 
 but they a bein in love couldn t think of nothin 
 sensible. We rode on up the mountain, an Ernie 
 headed for Covelo. 
 
 "Now I was afraid Ernie d go to ol man Morrill 
 an tell what he d seen, an so I shore decided to make 
 all the crooks an turns possible, an to take ad- 
 
A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPEMENT 59 
 
 vantage of every trail that was known only to me an 
 Alf Redfield. So we curved around considerable, an 
 when we got to Eel River we all rode up the river 
 bed about a mile, an then come out on some rocks 
 at a secret trail made by me when I was a rustlin for 
 a livin . We camped that night about half way up 
 the ridge. The next mornin early we hiked out, an 
 kept a goin . Anna was a standin the trip fine, an 
 was as gay as if she was a goin to Paris. Bill he 
 didn t seem to brighten up much. 
 
 "He says to me, When we get this affair over, 
 Jake, then I ll feel easy. 
 
 " I won t, says I. You an Anna can hike out 
 for some other place, but I ve got to go back to the 
 Valley, for it s the only place I know. I d be like 
 a grand-daddy longlegs in a hot skillet any place 
 else. 
 
 We re a goin to Arizona, Jake, says he, an 
 we want you to go along. I m well acquainted there, 
 an can show you to something worth while, if you ll 
 go with us. 
 
 " No, says I, I d ruther not. I couldn t leave the 
 old familiar places an ol Mr. Doyle an Alf Redfiek 1 . 
 Arizony s probably all right, but it ain t no place 
 for me. 
 
 " Well, says he, that s all right, Jake. Do as 
 you like, but really I d like to have you go. No, 
 says I, I d ruther not. 
 
 "We all kept a goin . The middle of the second 
 day we crossed the range an got a sight of the Sac 
 ramento Valley. We kept our horses an mules a 
 goin down the trail, a passin through what looked 
 
60 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 like quarries, then through forests an past big moss- 
 covered boulders. It was October, an the leaves of 
 the scrub oak was red, an of the cottonwood, yellow ; 
 an the horns of the deer was out of the velvet, an 
 the birds was all grown up an strong on the wing. 
 The sheep was all out of the mountains, an most 
 of the cattle. If we d a been on a huntin trip I d a 
 enjoyed it all, but we was probably a bein hunted. 
 I now felt a little like a deer must feel when he s a 
 bein chased. It was a mighty uncertain, ugly kind 
 of a feelhr a sort of a vague, far-off dread. I kept 
 a lookin at my six-shooter to see that it was ready 
 for action in case of trouble, an onct or twict I taken 
 my Winchester out of the scabbard an tried the 
 lever. On the morning of the third day we all got 
 down on level ground onct more, an the mules an 
 horses give up their swingin stride. I made up my 
 mind we d go straight to Cam. Johnson s house an 
 he d shore tell us what action to take. I knowed 
 he d take to the chance like a collie does to sheep. 
 Along about when the sun was a standin right over 
 us we all come up to Johnson s house. Cam. was to 
 home, an so was his third wife. He come out to 
 see what the cavalcade all meant, an his dogs, named 
 Nero, an Bryan, an Sharkey, come a troopin behind 
 him. 
 
 " Why, hello, Jake, says he, I m glad to see you 
 over on this side onct more. 
 
 " Thanks, says I, a shakin hands with him. 
 Allow me to present Miss Anna Morrill an Lizard 
 Bill Hadley, Mr. Johnson. 
 
 Mr. Johnson he lowed he was glad to meet em, 
 an says for us to alight, which we done. 
 
A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPEMENT 61 
 
 " Now, Mr. Johnson/ says I, these here young 
 people is that foolish they want to get married in a 
 hurry without papa s consent. Weddin s is some 
 thing I don t know much about, an I ve brought em 
 over the mountains to you, a knowin how expert 
 you are in such matters. 
 
 "That flattery made him swell up an feel as good 
 as if somebody had just give him a deed to some 
 wheat land. 
 
 " Come in, says he, an let me cogitate about the 
 matter/ 
 
 "We went in, an Johnson introduced us to his 
 wife, the same a bein a nice, young-lookin woman. 
 
 " Now have you got a license ? he asks. 
 
 " No, says I ; but I m a goin to jump on that 
 ol pinto of mine an ride to Red Bluff an back before 
 dark, bringin the bucklin permit with me. 
 
 " That s good, says he ; an I ll ride to Lowrey s 
 an get a Justice of the Peace. When we gets them 
 ingredients an the fellow an the girl together, I 
 guess they ll be a weddin , or my name ain t Cam. 
 Johnson, an I ain t known as the "Matchmaker of 
 the Foothills. Myrtle, says he to his wife, I wish 
 you d start right in now an get up a big dinner, so 
 when Jake gets back an the weddin s over we kin 
 celebrate the arrival of any of the friends of these 
 parties from over the range. 
 
 " Well, I won t lose no time, says I, an with that 
 I went out an straddled my ol pinto onct more, an 
 started for Red Bluff just a flyin . The last thing I 
 saw as I left Johnson s was his wife a sickin Nero an 
 Bryan an Sharkey after some chickens. I got to 
 
62 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 Red Bluff at 3 P. M., an got the license all right 
 enough for LaFayette Hadley, of Covelo, aged 29, 
 an Miss Anna Morrill, of Covelo, aged 23. Then I 
 jumped onto my horse an started back for Johnson s. 
 I was pretty tired, an so was the horse; but when 
 weddin s are concerned most people an horses has a 
 big energy reserve. Along about 5 o clock I see the 
 Lowrey stage just ahead of me, an I decided to pass 
 it. I come up close to it, an who did I see a settin 
 on the front seat with the driver but ol Bill Morrill. 
 Now I ve been excited some in my day, but on that 
 occasion my heart jumped as if I d been shot at by a 
 tenderfoot I was a makin dance. That part of 
 Tehama is fenced, an they wasn t no way of circlin 
 through the hills an givin the ol man the slip. So 
 I decides to ride boldly around the stage an take 
 the chances of the driver a beatin me. I spurred up 
 my pinto, an the way we went around that vehicle 
 was a good deal like the way a jackrabbit goes when 
 a hound gets after him. I heard the ol man holler : 
 
 " Wait a minute, Jake. 
 
 "But I didn t wait. I had business elsewhere. 
 Then I heard a whip crack like a repeatin rifle, an 
 the wheels rattle, an I just spurred an kept a spur- 
 rin . Soon I looked back an the stage was a quarter 
 of a mile behind, a comin to beat a choo-choo. The 
 driver was a standin up an givin it to the horses in 
 a way that d get him run in in a city by the Society 
 of Bein Cruel to Animals man. My horse knowed 
 they was somethin important in the wind, an he just 
 lay back his ears an run like a scairt coyote. In 
 about a half hour I come in sight of Johnson s house. 
 
A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPEMENT 63 
 
 As near as I could make out, the stage was about 
 three miles behind. I give a whoop, an Cam. come 
 a runnin out, an then I waved the permit. In a 
 minute I come a ridin up, an jumped off. 
 
 " Have you got the Justice ? I asks, in a anxious 
 tone. 
 
 " I have/ says he. 
 
 " Then have him toot his bazoo, says I, an 
 quick, for ol man Merrill s a comin , an with a light 
 in his eye that shore shows he s ready for to make 
 business for the Coroner. Don t say nothin to the 
 contractin parties about it. 
 
 " I won t, says he. We ll have the weddin 
 right now, an let the ol man rave after it s all over/ 
 
 "We all went in. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Allen/ says Johnson, dinner s ready, 
 the license is here, an you can pipe your valves an 
 make this couple one/ 
 
 " Will you two stand up? says the Justice to 
 them. 
 
 "They stood up. 
 
 " Now/ says he to Bill, do you take this woman 
 for wife? 
 
 " I do/ says Bill, trembly like. 
 
 " Do you take this man for husband ? says he 
 to Anna. 
 
 " I do/ says she, determined like. 
 
 Then I pronounce you man an wife, an may 
 God have mercy on your souls/ says he. 
 
 "There was a rattle of wheels an the crack of a 
 whip. Bill give Anna a kiss, an Mrs. Johnson did, 
 
64 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 too. I grabbed holt of my six-shooter an made 
 ready for trouble. I felt somebody grip my hand 
 tight, an then whoever it was kissed me. I jerked 
 away an looked out of the door, an ol Mr. Morrill 
 was a comin down the walk. Bill an Anna took up 
 a position, a holdin hands, in the middle of the room, 
 an the ol man come a stalkin in with angry mien. 
 
 " What is the meanin of this ? he asks, sober 
 like. 
 
 " Nobody said anything for a instant, an then 
 Anna she spoke up an says : 
 
 " It means, father, that Mr. Hadley an I are 
 married. 
 
 " Well, I m simply damned, said the ol man, a 
 takin off his hat an reachin for his bandanna, an 
 me a grippin my gun tight. 
 
 " What did you want to run away for, when I ve 
 always been in hopes that you an Mr. Hadley d 
 make a go of it ? Ernie Mason come in three days 
 ago an said he thought you was elopin, an I come 
 around Frisco way hopin I d be here on time to 
 attend the weddin . Here s a deed, Anna, says her 
 father, to half of my property, an a big check, an 
 I appoint you foreman of the whole business, Mr. 
 Hadley. 
 
 "Anna threw her arms around her father s neck, 
 an Lizard Bill Hadley he come forward a lookin 
 kind of plagued, an offered his paw, which the ol 
 gentleman shook in a glad way. An so it was over, 
 an I felt like a man that s been kicked by a sheep. 
 Such is the way of love. You never can tell what it ll 
 cause people to do, nor how it ll affect em. 
 
A PERSONALLY CONDUCTED ELOPEMENT 65 
 
 "Johnson now spoke up, an says : Mr. Morrill, 
 you wasn t in time for the weddin , but you are on 
 time for dinner. My wife here, my third one, is a 
 mighty good cook, an I hope when you get done 
 eatin you won t feel that your trip over here was 
 made for nothin . 
 
 "With that we all went in an sat down." 
 
 "What did you get for your trouble, Jake?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "Me? Oh, I got laughed at by the ol man an 
 everybody in the Valley but Anna an Bill. We three 
 never laughed at one another. Let s get up an have 
 breakfast an go a huntinV 
 
WHY WYLACKIE JAKE WENT TO 
 TEHAMA.* 
 
 "No," said Wylackie Jake, "I ain t never traveled 
 much. Some people travel around a lookin for 
 health after they ve lost it, like old Mr. Doyle, the 
 President of the Round Valley Sportsmen s Club, an 
 others travels around to preserve it. The first breed 
 of people do a whole lot of hikin around Frisco, 
 Del Monticos an the like. The other kind hits the 
 trail now an then out into the mountains when the 
 lilies of the valley gets to pryin about what become 
 of this cow or that hog. Whenever Sam Elaine, 
 Frank Bell or Tom Freeman gets to searchin 
 around for somethin they ve lost, then Alf Redfield 
 and me has to go to the mountains on a huntin trip. 
 The more thorough they make the search, the farther 
 Alf an I go and the longer we stay. They got so in 
 quisitive onct that Alf and I had to go clear to 
 Blocksburg, get a job a herdin baas an stay out all 
 summer. But that time Alf and I ought to a had to 
 do what we did. We had shore raised particular fits, 
 and our summer around Blox was about enough to 
 
 * This story is republished here through the kindness of 
 the San Francisco Argonaut, in which weekly it was first 
 printed in the issue of June 27, 1904, under the title " High 
 Life inCovelo." 
 
WHY WYLACKIE JAKE WENT TO TEHAMA 67 
 
 square the deal. Blox is a funny town. It s what 
 old Mr. Doyle calls a rum old place. Why, in that 
 town a fist fight doan t attract as much attention as 
 a dog fight. This Blox trip of ourn was shore bad 
 enough, but the worst travelin I ever had to do 
 arose out of a joke. Some people thinks bad 
 actions 11 get you into more trouble than jokes ; but 
 my experience is that a good big joke on Round Val 
 ley 11 get a man into more genuine, sincere trouble 
 than anything except takin a horse from some fel 
 low that took him from! some other fellow. The 
 longest, orneriest trip I ever had to take up to date 
 to preserve my health was over the range to Tehama 
 County, an it was all because of a harmless joke. 
 I stayed over the range nigh on to a year, an that 
 shore shows how serious some people took the joke. 
 "One day I was a ridin around lookin for deer 
 over by that big Rattlesnake Rock near where the 
 road crosses Eel River. I looked up the road an 
 see a new rig a comin . I knowed it was a new rig, 
 because I didn t know the dog a runnin ahead of it. 
 Up here we always know who s a comin on a road 
 or a trail by the dog that runs ahead. This here 
 dog was a spotted dog. I never saw the likes of 
 him before, an he seemed to want to drink the river 
 dry. Pretty soon the rig comes up, an damn me if 
 the guy a drivin didn t have on a stovepipe hat. 
 Out here, you know, everybody but old Mr. Doyle 
 wears soft hats, an he bein the hotel keeper an 
 undertaker an President of the Sportsmen s Club, is 
 allowed to satisfy his whim. When I see that hard 
 hat I just nacherally wanted to rope that fellow an 
 
68 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 drag him across the river, but he was such a nice 
 little dude-like man that I says, politely enough : 
 
 " Afternoon, pardner. Ain t you out of your 
 latitude? 
 
 " Maybe out of my latitude, says he ; but if I m 
 on the Round Valley Road, I m in my longitude. 
 
 " Well, pardner, says I, you re on the road all 
 right enough, an if you keep on a goin you ll shore 
 wind up in Round Valley ; but if I was in your place 
 I d either get a other kind of headgear or else turn 
 around an go back. The boys maybe 11 stand for 
 that spotted dog of yourn, but they re mighty touchy 
 on hats. They wants shorthorns to be peaceful and 
 humble like, for they ain t noteriety enough in the 
 Valley to go round , and the buddin aspirations of 
 tenderfoots shore has to be curbed. 
 
 " I m thankful to you for the suggestion, says 
 he, an shall now adopt your advice. 
 
 "With that he opens a kind of a hat alfora an 
 puts his stovepipe hat in it, an then from a valise he 
 brings out a old soldier hat an puts it on his head. 
 
 " You now looks like a white man, says I, an 
 not like a dude. 
 
 I looked at his rig an see he was some sort 
 of a peddler. 
 
 " You ve been good to me, says he, a puttin 
 me wise on the hat proposition, an now to show you 
 I m not without gratitude which is the milk of hu 
 man kindness I m a goin to give you my last bottle 
 of a compound known as "High Life." Rubbed into 
 the hide of any aged animal it makes him young 
 again; gives him the fire of youth, a steady step, a 
 
WHY WYLACKIE JAKE WENT TO TEHAMA 69 
 
 keen eye. That pinto horse of yourn seems to be 
 old, an your dog ain t no longer young, an this 
 compound 11 restore them to their pristine vigor. 
 
 "I didn t know what he meant by pristine vigor, 
 but the rest of what he said was tolerably plain, an 
 I took the bottle an thanked him. 
 
 " Good day, pardner, says he, a drivin on. 
 
 " S long, says I to him, an with that I rode off, 
 hopin to get a buck. But deer wasn t plentiful, an 
 so I started for Covelo. 
 
 "I got there about three in the afternoon, an 
 stopped at the blacksmith shop to have a little 
 chinnin with Alf Redfield. Alf was a lettin on to 
 work at the blacksmith shop then. Alf has let on to 
 work for almost everybody in town. Whenever he 
 makes the entire round he ll have to move to some 
 other town or take to rustlin as a regular thing, or 
 sellin liquor to Injuns. 
 
 "Or Mr. Doyle was a havin his buggy fixed at 
 the shop. His horse was a standin tied to a post 
 near by. That horse was a likely horse before the 
 woods was burnt, but of late years most all the 
 Injuns over on the Reservation has had horses that 
 puts on more looks an speed. Ol Mr. Doyle has 
 got old along with the horse. The old man don t 
 know he s old, an he don t know the horse is old, 
 either; but the horse does. Mr. Doyle was in the 
 back of the shop a talkin to ol Mr. Putnam, the 
 blacksmith, an Alf was lettin on to be busy with 
 the buggy. I went over to the old horse an began 
 for to pet him an talk nice to him, the way a fellow 
 will talk to a old horse that knows how to behave. 
 
70 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 Of a suddent I thinks of my present my hard-hat 
 dude friend give me, an I decided to try some of it 
 on ol Mr. Doyle s horse. I slyly poured some out 
 into my hand an rubbed it into the old horse s back. 
 He didn t take on none, an I decided the tenderfoot 
 has shore passed off some counterfeit goods. Then 
 I stands a minute or two a musin on it, an concludes 
 that maybe horses is too big animals for the com 
 pound to work on, an maybe it d go better on a dog. 
 "Mr. Doyle has got a old dog named Bruno 
 over at his hotel which used to be a regular hell 
 womper, as he puts it. He says that ol dog was a 
 better hunter than a Injun when he was young. But 
 the ol dog ain t good for nothin now except to lie 
 on the sidewalk an be petted. There s a young 
 scrappin dog named Bull that gives the old fellow 
 a lot of trouble an makes him wish he was young 
 again. I decided to try the compound on the old 
 dog, an went over to where he was a lyin in the 
 shade. I commenced to pet him, an the old fellow 
 enjoyed it shore enough. Then I rubbed some of 
 the ointment onto him, an it didn t have no effect. 
 The old dog just wagged his tail an panted kind of 
 loud, the way a old dog will, an when I quit rubbin 
 him lay down again. I had tried the dude s com 
 pound on a equine an a canine, an hadn t got no 
 action. Thinks I to myself, a cat is a nervous high 
 jumper, a sort of a ring-tail speiler that shows his 
 bad health by his uncommon activity, an maybe the 
 feline 11 be affected where the equine an the canine 
 wasn t. So I recollected that old Mr. Doyle has a 
 big cat named Robert Emmet, which the same he 
 
WHY WYLACKIE JAKE WENT TO TEHAMA 71 
 
 is uncommon fond of, an which sleeps under the 
 billiard table in the barroom of his hotel. 
 
 "So I ambles into the barroom an pets the cat, 
 an pussy sagged in the middle an purred when I 
 touched him. The barkeeper, he went out to the well 
 an I rubbed some of the compound onto the cat, an 
 would you believe it, the cat just went back under 
 the billiard table an lay down an went to snoozin 
 again. I had failed on the equine, the canine an the 
 feline. I was about to take the bottle to the back 
 yard an bust it with my gun, when I heard old Mr. 
 Doyle s parrot say Polly, pretty Polly. That puts 
 a new idea into my head. Maybe the nerves of a 
 bird was different from those of animals, an per 
 haps the compound would work on a bird where it 
 didn t work on a animal. An so I goes up to the 
 polly an says, Tolly, pretty Polly, an the parrot 
 just nacherally put her head out to have it scratched, 
 an the same I scratched, an rubbed her on the back 
 with High Life. Would you believe it, that bird 
 wasn t affected in the slightest. I puts it up that 
 tenderfoot dude has shore played me for a sucker. 
 
 "I started for the back yard, intendin to use my 
 bottle as a target, for I do love to see glass fly when 
 a bullet hits it, when suddently I heard someone 
 holler Whoa! in a anxious tone of voice, an then 
 I heard a rattle of wheels. You bet I pulled my 
 freight to the street mighty quick, an just in time 
 to see that ol horse of ol Mr. Doyle s rair up an 
 paw the air like a old grizzly that s been scratched 
 by a bullet. Alf an ol Mr. Putnam an ol Mr. Doyle 
 was a tryio. to quiet the horseflesh, but of a suddent 
 
72 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 the old horse give a bound an jumped ahead as if 
 he d run into a hornets nest. All three of em 
 hollered Whoa/ an I run out and made believe I 
 was a tryin to head the old plug off. The boys come 
 a pourin out of the Dewey an other places of re 
 freshment. Well, sir, that old horse that hadn t 
 been out of a trot for years an years just seemed to 
 recover his pristine vigor, an went down that high 
 way like a dog with a tin can tied to his tail. Ol 
 Mr. Doyle looked at the cloud of dust, an remarked, 
 What in hell s struck the old fool ? An Alf said he 
 guessed the old horse had turned back to a colt. 
 They wasn t nothin down the road but a big cloud 
 of dust. Tom Freeman he s from Arizony- an 
 Sam Elaine jumped onto their horses an took after 
 that old colt, an everybody began a discussin what d 
 come over the old plug. 
 
 "I looked at the old dog, an see that he was 
 awake, an that his eye had a light in it I hadn t seen 
 in years. Bull was a lyin across the street in the 
 shade. Old Bruno got up an stretched an shook 
 himself an began to sniff the air. He seemed to 
 have a air of conceit about him I hadn t seen since 
 Bull licked him the first time. He started across the 
 street, an the bully dog began to growl. Bruno d 
 been accustomed to always shearin off when the 
 other dog growled, but this time he just let out one 
 savage snarl, an showed his teeth, an then he just 
 dumb up onto that other dog like a bobcat does a 
 tree. Now they never was anything in a cow town 
 that attracted the same amount of attention as a dog 
 fight. When the gamblers an* loafers heard them 
 
WHY WYLACKIE JAKE WENT TO TEHAMA 78 
 
 welcome growls, fellows that hadn t budged when 
 the horse ran away, just came a pourin out of the 
 saloons like bees out of a tree when a old bear is out 
 for honey for dinner. 
 
 "And that was shore a dog fight. The bully dog 
 was all swelled up and conceited like at first, as much 
 as to say, Why, the idea. Old Bruno had the sym 
 pathy of the crowd, which shore cheered him on. 
 An , say well, I ve been in bear fights where there 
 was considerable whoopin , an hollerin , an snarlin , 
 an growlin , and barkin , but this here fight shore 
 beat anything in the way of a scrap I ever seen or 
 heard, Them two dogs just clawed, an chawed, an 
 bit, an scratched, an snarled. First one dog d be 
 on top an 5 then t other dog d be on top, an some 
 times they both appeared to be on top, an sometimes 
 they both appeared to be on the bottom. The bully 
 dog put forth his best efforts at first, but Bruno kept 
 a gettin stronger as the fight progressed. When ol 
 Mr. Doyle see this he just whooped an yelled Sick 
 em, Bruno. Grab him. Catch him. Whoop ee! 
 After a while the bully dog got enough, an quit 
 scrappin , an then Alf Redfield an Ike Wharton 
 separated em, an the bully dog went down the street 
 with his tail atween his legs, an ol Bruno a havin 
 to be held back. Ol Mr. Doyle was plumb tickled 
 to death. He just petted ol Bruno so hard it 
 sounded as though he was a beltin him. Bruno he 
 rubbed up against the old man s leg an wagged his 
 tail like somebody was a goin to give him a hunk 
 of meat. The loafers an gamblers went back to 
 their loafin an gamblin/ an life in Covelo resooms 
 its natural condition. 
 
74 WYLACKIE TAKE OF COVELO 
 
 "Thinks I to myself, I d better be a makin myself 
 scarce around here. If that cat an parrot get took 
 in that barroom the way that horse an dog has been 
 took they ain t no tellin just what ll happen. I 
 started for my old pinto, when I heard a yowl that 
 made me think a bobcat d come to town a lookin 
 for fodder. An almost at the same time I heard 
 Polly shriek, Damn it, give me a cracker! What 
 now happens I wasn t prepared for. Ever since the 
 parrot had been in the barroom Robert Emmet had 
 been a lookin for parrot meat some day, but never 
 had the nerve to tackle the bird, she pecked so sav 
 age. But now this here compound shore gingered 
 up that cat so s he s ready for to tackle a eagle. An 
 the parrot, she feels fine, an is ready for any cat the 
 size of a screechin panther. The parrot she just 
 nacherally took up a position on a shelf behind the 
 bar, loaded with whisky bottles and jimmy Johns, 
 an the cat jumped up on the bar. The barkeeper, 
 which the same bein a Dutchy, ain t got no nerve, 
 an didn t try to stop the scrap. Robert Emmet give 
 a jump at the polly, and the polly pecked real hard 
 at him an flopped her wings, an whisky bottles an 
 jimmy Johns fell off en that shelf an busted on the 
 floor. You never saw so much good whisky go to 
 waste in so short a time. Old Mr. Doyle come in an 
 looks at the wreckage an debree, an says he, This 
 here is a gettin damn serious, an with that pussy 
 give another spring at Polly, an Polly hollers, Oh, 
 give us a rest, an knocks the feline an more whisky 
 bottles onto the floor. Stop them, says ol Mr. 
 Doyle. An with that Alf Redfield run in an got 
 
WHY WYLACKIE JAKE WENT TO TEHAMA 75 
 
 between the cat an the polly, air knocked Robert 
 Emmet away when he was all crouched ready for 
 another spring. Polly flew over on the bar an flopped 
 her wings an bent over an then she just flew right 
 out through the door an lit in a oak tree, an 
 screeched an hollered like a wild Injun. Ol Mr. 
 Doyle, he just said, Well, what in hell ? The cat 
 he now calmed down. 
 
 "The boys began a discussin the cause of all the 
 animal animation. I didn t say nothin, nor offer no 
 theeries, but by an by a little kid pipes up an says, 
 I seen Wylackie Jake a rubbin somethin on the 
 horse an dog. Kid/ says I, you will please to rec 
 ollect that small boys ain t to talk when they s men 
 around. With that somethin caught my eye over at 
 the door, an it wasn t on Mr. Doyle s head. What 
 did I see but that dude, a lookin in, an worst of all, 
 he shore had that hard hat on. Well, sir, afore I 
 knowed it, I pulled my gun an just nacherally ruined 
 that hat, a puttin five holes through it, an savin one 
 for emergency; but they weren t no emergency in 
 that tenderfoot. He was just scairt stiff. He was 
 the scairtest man I ever seen. I just nacherally 
 ruined that silk, worm-eaten catastrophe of a dude 
 hat. The little kid he pipes up again, the little kid 
 does, an says, Jake made that horse an dog act up. 
 What the lad says is true, says the dude, if 
 Jake is the fellow that ruined my hat. This morning 
 I give a fellow that looks like that man there, says 
 he, a pointin at me, a bottle of what they calls "High 
 Life," or "dope," down at the city, for some advice 
 he give me about not wearin a silk hat in the Valley, 
 
76 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 an now he s ruined the hat, the only fellow in the 
 Valley that d do such a thing, as I ve found out. 
 Step up to the bar, gentlemen/ says he, an have a 
 drink with me. Ol Mr. Doyle he went behind the 
 bar a laughin , and says, What s yourn ? 
 
 "Everybody was good natured an willin to drink 
 with the shorthorn, an things was shore a stampedin 
 my way, until Jack Wilson says, Til take whisky. 
 Then he says, suddently, as if he d been hit by a 
 rattle bug, Damn if the whisky ain t all on the floor. 
 The joke ain t so funny now. Ol Mr. Doyle he just 
 broke off a smile right in half an roared, The skunk 
 that d do a thing like this ought to be run out of the 
 Valley/ an Jack he chimed in an said the same, an 
 the rest of the crowd looked as solemn as a Injun 
 funeral. 
 
 "I makes my way toward my old pinto plug, an 
 ol Mr. Doyle bellowed, Stop him ! With that I run 
 to my horse an jumped into the saddle an starts to 
 ride off. 
 
 " Don t let him get away, boys. Remember the 
 whisky/ says the old gentleman. At that Jack Wil 
 son an Ernie Mason an some more lilies of the Val 
 ley jumped onto their horses, an shore started for 
 me just a flyin . They a bein on young horses, I 
 knowed it wouldn t be long before they d catch up 
 with me, an I didn t know what they d do to me. 
 Suddently I bethought me of my compound, an the 
 same I takes out an rubbed some on my old pinto. 
 Ernie and Jack was a gainin on me, an I was a 
 beginnin to think I d have to pull my gun an keep 
 em off. But in a few minutes I see that my old 
 
WHY WYLACKIE JAKE WENT TO TEHAMA 77 
 
 pinto plug was a leavin em behind. By the time 
 I had got to Gray s I seen I was out of danger, an* 
 my horse was a gettin stronger at each jump. That 
 compound just nacherally made my horse young 
 again. I made my way over Leach Lake Mountain 
 down to Eel River an over the range to Tehama 
 County, where I stayed there a year afore I dared 
 venture back." 
 
THE EXIT OF A TENDERFOOT. 
 
 "Whenever you get in a place where you ain t on 
 speakin terms with anybody," said Wylackie Jake, 
 "climb up on some peak an get your bearin s before 
 you try to be a good fellow. A man that tries to 
 be smart an a good fellow before he knows the ways 
 of people generally gets took down. A good fellow 
 is generally a fool at best, but when he tries to break 
 into the band without doin any perliminary pawin 
 an bellerin , he shows himself to be completely 
 lackin in gumption. The big longhorns of the band 
 come around an look at him, an hook him, an the 
 little calves let out a lot of insultin blats, an the 
 cows hike over to the shade of the cottonwoods an 
 lie down. 
 
 "I mind me of one case," continued Jake, "of how 
 a young tenderfoot come to Covelo an thought he 
 was a goin to prove himself to be hell personified. 
 He was a college man, an come up here one vacation 
 a sellin books. Now, we all 11 stand for shorthorns 
 if they acts like shorthorns; but fellers like me an 
 Alf Redfield an Lizard Bill Hadley ain t a goin to 
 stand for some college dude with a head of hair like 
 a Angora goat that tries to act as we do. We all 
 ain t what you might call exclusive, but we ain t a 
 standin for toadstools a growin in our midst. When 
 a shorthorn comes to Round Valley he don t want to 
 
EXIT OF A TENDERFOOT 79 
 
 do as we Round Valley boys do. He wants to do as 
 we all expects him to do. If this here college calf 
 that didn t have nothin but little sproutin horns 
 hadn t a stuck his bill into our affairs an tried to 
 act in a sort of a patronizin way, it s just possible 
 he would a sold some books, instead of gettin run 
 out of the Valley, like he was a sheep-killin dog. 
 
 "The college chap was in Covelo on the Fourth 
 of July a bad time for a dude to be around that 
 didn t know he had ought to follow, instead of tryin 
 to be a bell wether. They had a big barbecue that 
 day. All of the six hundred Injuns on the Reserva 
 tion come to town to take part in the pow-wow, an* 
 shore made a fine sight. An all of the buckaroos 
 from Merrill s an Bell s ranches was there to take 
 part in the rope-throwin an ridin of buckin broncos 
 an packin of mules. There was grub for every 
 Injun from Yellow Jacket down to ol Wash-hopper, 
 an for every buckaroo from Alf Redfield down to 
 ol Charlie Porter, an conversation water bubbled in 
 the barrooms like a perpetual spring, an everybody 
 was a feelin as fine an dandy as a girl at her first 
 hoedown. They wasn t nothin in the whole outfit 
 that looked as if it had got lost, exceptin that college 
 dude. He seemed to be everywhere, an had the idea 
 corraled that he was a makin himself agreeable, 
 when, as a matter of fact, he was a layin the founda 
 tion for lots of trouble. He d come into the bar 
 rooms ah put his hands on our shoulders an try an 
 say smart things, an finally wound up by askin to 
 be let into a game that me an Tom Freeman an 
 Ernie Mason an Jack Wilson was a playin . We 
 
80 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 frowned down on him like a lot of sheep dogs do on 
 some little yelpin ki-yi. But he didn t seem able 
 to round up no actions proper, like a little dog would, 
 an so we let him in, an he tried to talk big, but we 
 all whip-sawed him good an plenty, an left him 
 as high an dry as the big hook does a salmon pool 
 if it s shot proper. We all felt that his actions was 
 due to ignorance, an would have excused him if he 
 hadn t a made an all-around copper-plated fool of 
 himself at the ball given that night at ol Mr. Doyle s 
 hotel. 
 
 "We was to dance in the dining room. Me an* 
 Alf Redfield an Lizard Bill Hadley went to the 
 dance. We wasn t dressed fit to kill, but we was 
 togged out so we was satisfied with ourselves an 
 with each other. Along about nine o clock there was 
 some sort of a commotion at the door, an when I 
 see what come in I almost went plumb loco. That 
 dude shore had more nerve than brains. What do 
 you think of a measly tenderfoot that would come to 
 a ball in a cow town in a claw-hammer coat, a shirt 
 bosom as white as the snow over there on South 
 Yallo Bally, an a shirt stud a shinin like the lantern 
 on a choo-choo ? Well, I guess me an Alf Redfield 
 an* the rest of the Round Valley boys felt poorer 
 than skimmed whisky when we put our blue flannel 
 shirts an silk handkerchiefs an dogskin chaps up 
 alongside of that outfit. It seemed to me that there 
 was a low buzz from the men all over that room, like 
 the buzz of a rattler before he gets riled up much. 
 But the girls, of course, had to see the thing in a 
 different way. Any unusual happenin or thing puts 
 
EXIT OF A TENDERFOOT 81 
 
 a man on his guard, while it makes a woman fall in 
 love. Me an Alf and Lizard Bill an some of the 
 other boys was shoved off in a corner by this short 
 horn. Did you ever see a big long train of cattle 
 cars full of anxious-lookin steers a lookin out at the 
 green fields, lined up on a side track, with the choo- 
 choo a givin out a few little death rattles, while 
 some train with the President of the road aboard 
 cuts past like a comet ? That s the way we all looked 
 an felt. 
 
 "The girls all just beamed on that shorthorn like 
 he was a long-expected husband that had come in. 
 An that shorthorn was knowin enough to see that 
 he had us all in the corral a lookin through the rails, 
 while he cracked his whip an the girls done his 
 biddin . Now I shore decides that this ain t ever a 
 goin to do, an so I sets down an begins a thinkin 
 of some way to put that college dude out of the 
 way. After I figures on it for a few minutes I gets 
 Alf Redfield an Lizard Bill Hadley an Ike Wharton 
 an Jim Randolph an Johnnie Gray to go outside 
 with me, an I laid down my plans to em. I told the 
 boys that this here tenderfoot s success was a goin 
 to set up a rule that others d try to follow, an that 
 we had ought to nip his buddin tender aspirations 
 like the frost does a persimmon. The boys all lowed 
 that this was so, an Alf he up an says, What s your 
 scheme, Jake? I up an says, Well, ol Tom Kai, 
 the Injun medicine man, has a been predictin that 
 they ll shore be a Injun rair-up in these parts soon, 
 an I don t see no objectin to it a happenin right 
 here an now. The boys all lowed that was so, an 
 
82 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 I says, Well, let s us be the Injuns an make a raid on 
 that dance hall/ That s a bully scheme/ says Alf, 
 an the rest of the outfit agreed. Then/ says I, if 
 you all agree to it, let s go an get some feather 
 dusters an lampblack over here at Joe Harper s 
 store, an Joe 11 shore let us have some blankets to 
 wrap up in, an then well go into that dance hall 
 an bust up the hoedown. 
 
 "We all started for Joe s store, an as we went 
 past the dance I looked in at the window, an that 
 shorthorn was a leadin a Virginia reel with my girl, 
 an she was a smilin at him an a lookin happier than 
 she ever did when I was with her. That made me 
 about as snarlin mad as a wildcat when he puts his 
 foot into a trap. We all went to the store an told Joe 
 the scheme, an he took to it like a Injun does to 
 whisky. He brought out the dusters an the lamp 
 black, an told us to help ourselves to anything we 
 wanted, as he thought that this here white man s 
 country was a bein put to the bad by a lot of short 
 horns that didn t know a dove from a quail, an he 
 hoped we d make this a lesson so that them that bore 
 the tenderfoot brand could read it. That was a 
 mighty fierce-lookin band of Injuns. We rubbed 
 lard onto our faces, an then followed that up with 
 lampblack. Of course Injuns ain t just what you 
 would call black, but we lowed that everybody in 
 the ballroom d be so scairt they wouldn t have time 
 to think about that. Then we all fixed the feather 
 dusters so s they looked like Injun topknots, wrapped 
 some red blankets around ourselves, an was ready 
 for the opry to begin. We all sneaked out of Joe s 
 
EXIT OF A TENDERFOOT 83 
 
 store an went up clost to the dance hall. I told the 
 boys to do exactly as I done, an they shore agreed 
 to. They had the idea that I knowed what I was 
 about, an trusted me. When we got to the door I 
 pulled my gun an let drive a couple of times, an give 
 a blood-curdlin yell we all use when we re a tryin 
 to scare some sense into sheep. All of the Injuns 
 done the same, an then I run again the door, an it 
 flew open with a bang, an me an Alf an all of the 
 rest hiked in. They was a dancin a Virginia reel, 
 an ol j Mr. Doyle an the tenderfoot seemed to be the 
 bell wethers. I give a terrible screech, an Alf an * 
 the rest blowed off yowls that sounded like a dozen 
 red-eyed cougars had struck the place, an then I 
 commenced to dance a Injun dance, a gruntin an a 
 singin in the Porno lingo. Everybody in the room 
 tumbled to who we was, I guess, but some of the 
 girls an that tenderfoot. I took a shot at one of the 
 lamp chimbleys, an Alf blazed into the floor, an Tom 
 Freeman fell over like he was shot, an then Ernie 
 Mason an some more bluffed that they was a comhr 
 forward as a rescue party, an then Johnnie Gray 
 fell over. I edged toward that tenderfoot. The rest 
 of the Injuns went for Tom Freeman to get his 
 scalp, an fought with Ernie an the rest. When I 
 got clost up to that shorthorn I let out a roar that 
 must have sounded like the yowl of a bobcat, the 
 screech of a cougar an the bellow of a mad bull, an 
 I guess that tenderfoot thought he d run up agin 
 ol Geronimo an the Kid an Sittin Bull an Yellow 
 Jacket an old Tom Kai all rolled into one. Alf Red- 
 field come to help me, an we hustled the life of the 
 
84 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 reel toward a corner, a makin most frightful faces, 
 an a hollerin like we was a roundin up hogs. The 
 tenderfoot wasn t a goin very fast, an was a little 
 game. If he hadn t a been so fly as to dance with my 
 girl, the chances are I would a quit; but when I 
 thinks of that I resolves to do my damnedest, an 
 make this a example to high-flyin tenderfoot buz 
 zards. So me an Alf kept a forcin him toward the 
 corner, an finally when I pointed my gun at him 
 he turned an run, an then Alf grabbed him, an I 
 come up clost an seized holt of the claws on that coat 
 an cut em off, an then hollered to Alf in Injun to 
 let go, an Alf did, an then the shorthorn broke 
 through the door an shore stampeded for the tall 
 timber, an we all after him like we was a goin to 
 scalp him. I heard ol Mr. Doyle say, Don t get 
 scairt, ladies, it s only Wylackie Jake an the rest of 
 them rapscallions. That tenderfoot shore must a 
 been a athlete, for he run like a antelope. We all 
 come a runnin after him, a yellin an howlin an 
 shootin , but we couldn t never catch up with him. 
 A man would a had to straddle a flash of chain 
 lightnin an a quirted it an a spurred it till the blood 
 run, an then I doubt whether he could a ketched up 
 with that dude. We run in his direction for quite 
 a piece, a keepin up the Injun racket, an then I bust 
 out with a big loud laugh in United States, an the 
 other boys done the same, an we built a bonfire an 
 held a pow-wow right there. 
 
 "Since then we ain t been troubled up here with 
 fresh boys that don t know a pine tree from a fir 
 tree. When a tenderfoot comes here now he be- 
 
EXIT OF A TENDERFOOT 85 
 
 haves in the way he s expected to, for he hears 
 about what happened to that college dude at every 
 stop the stage makes Calpella, Traveller s Home, 
 Long s, an Eden Valley an shore decides that he 
 won t be Jimmy Fresh when he gets to where the 
 Round Valley Boys live an work an play." 
 
DOYLE, J. P. 
 
 SIDELIGHTS ON THE CAPERS OF THE LAW IN COVELO. 
 
 Wylackie Jake and I were taking turns in 
 "toting" a deer to camp. The slaughtered quarry 
 was large and heavy, and made a troublesome 
 burden. We came to a spring, and Jake, who was 
 carrying the future "frys," laid him down, set his 
 gun against a rock, got down on his hands and knees, 
 and bent over and drank. I also took a drink. Jake 
 rolled a cigarette, then sat down on a charred log 
 and looked at the deer. I said nothing, for I knew 
 that Jake s actions were the prelude to a remi 
 niscence. 
 
 "A big deer," said Jake, "is a bothersome load to 
 pack. A hunter always wants to kill a buck, an 
 after he kills him an thinks of gettin him into camp, 
 he wishes he d let the animal with a tree on his head 
 continue to loaf around salt licks an brush patches. 
 They s only one thing I know of that s more trouble 
 some an.packin a deer to camp, an that s a gettin 
 into trouble so genuinely that law has to be called 
 to get you into it deeper. Tears as though when 
 trouble comes after a man red-eyed, law had ought 
 to step out from behind the brush an stop it in its 
 stampedin career. But instead of that, law shoves a 
 man out into the lake of trouble until he gets in over 
 
DOYLE, J. P. 87 
 
 his head. I ain t never been in trouble that deep but 
 onct, an that time I touched bottom three times, an 
 felt that somethin had a mighty tight grip on my 
 throat. I recollect that I give up all hope of a rescue 
 party. When I come to they was a bailin the law out 
 of me. An it was all over a dog. 
 
 "It s strange what people that ain t got no sym 
 pathy with sufferin humanity 11 do for a dog. Now 
 I ain t a man to look down on canines. They shore 
 has their part to play in this world, as sheep, an 
 cougars, an stock, an purrin pussies well knows. 
 The fault don t lie with the dogs, but with their 
 owners. A dog is just a dog if you let him alone. 
 Treat a dog like he was a dog an he ll do anything 
 for you that a canine can ; but treat him like he was 
 a human bein , you ain t no longer got a dog, an you 
 shore ain t got no human bein . Dogs knows their 
 place until human bein s makes em forget it. Stead 
 of havin a society for the preventin of knockin the 
 daylights out of lop-eared mules, an balky burros, 
 an rearin horses, they ought to be a aggregation for 
 the preventin of half-way humans a makin fools of 
 animals. Now th^y ain t no finer sight than a shep 
 herd dog a watchin sheep, an they ain t nothin 
 nobler an a good hound. An they shore ain t no 
 more disgustin sight than to see a person treat some 
 little pug dog like it was a infant. The dog don t 
 enjoy it. 
 
 "Onct I was out on Leach Lake Mountain, at 
 Brown s Camp, a herdin a bunch of ol Bill Merrill s 
 sheep. Jack Johnson was my pardner. Jack done 
 time in San Quentin onct for bein mixed up in the 
 
88 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 Payne murder. He wasn t good to look at, but he 
 was shore a good herder. He knowed sheep an their 
 ways, an sheep knowed that he did. Jack had a dog 
 named Andy, which the same was a uncommon sort 
 of a canine, knowin more about how to handle mut 
 ton, when let alone, an me. When the dog was with 
 me he always done first class, an acted like a dog; 
 but when he d get with his master he wasn t the same. 
 Then he acted like he was half natural, an half like 
 he was a tryin to be some new kind of a species, he 
 didn t know just what. 
 
 "I ve lived on the frontier most of my life. I 
 ain t civilized like a city man that wears a silk hat an 
 one glass instead of a pair of specs. But I ain t a 
 Digger Injun. I like things fair to middlin , an I 
 shave at least onct a week. I like to be half-way 
 decent about my eatin . Now, it was this desire of 
 mine to be some polite, mixed up with Andy an his 
 master that led me into Ol Man Trouble s corral. 
 Jack Johnson never was civilized, an never could be. 
 It wasn t in his make-up. He lived as a squaw man 
 before he was sent up, an when he come back I seen 
 that Gatlin gun towers an Winchester rifles a 
 frownin down on the prison yard hadn t turned him 
 into a lily of the valley. Jack d let Andy eat out of 
 the fryin pan. Now I suppose I m some fastidious, 
 as you d say, but I cain t eat with a dog. Jack could. 
 I told Jack that I wisht he d learn his dog better 
 habits, an Jack said if I didn t like his manners I 
 needn t eat with him an his dog. Now I don t like 
 to be rowin with my herder pardner, but ruther an 
 stand for a half human, half dog animal a lickin his 
 
DOYLE, J. P. 89 
 
 chops over what I m a goin to eat, I ll do most any 
 thing. So I up and told Jack that if he didn t teach 
 his dog new table manners I d send him to the place 
 where dogs don t have to eat. Jack said that his dog 
 was a dog of the old school, an that it wasn t possible 
 to learn his dog new manners. The canine was a 
 hangiir around camp then, an he marched up to the 
 fryiir pan, which Jack had just took off the fire, an 
 grabbed a slice of nice venison rolled in flour, an 
 commenced to eat it. 
 
 What are you a goin to do about it? asks 
 Jack. 
 
 "An I up air says, I m a goin to kill him. He s 
 a good sheep dog, but his style of etiquette ain t in 
 harmony with my sentiments, an I m a goin to give 
 you a chance to make some sausage meat. 
 
 "With that I pulled my gun, an ol Jack he jumps 
 up an runs for his Winchester, a savin , If you kill 
 my dog, I ll kill you. 
 
 "Now ol Jack was that desperate that he 
 wouldn t a scrupled at killin anybody if he felt like it, 
 an so I turns the gun on him, an hollers at him, If 
 you touch that gun I ll shoot. 
 
 "Ol Jack he stopped air faced me. He wasn t 
 five feet from his gun. I didn t want to have to kill 
 him, even though the world would a been a 
 lot better off without him, unless I had to, 
 but there [ was a coverin him to keep him 
 away from his rifle, an if I let up for a in 
 stant he d get it an kill me. We just stood there 
 a lookin at each other, an the dog just nacherally 
 a eatin up all they was in the pan. How long I held 
 
90 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 that gun on that old ruffian I don t know, air ain t 
 got no idea, but it seemed to me like a month made 
 up of the longest days in the year. At last I heard 
 hoof beats, an so did oF Jack. 1 just kept the gun on 
 him, for he was a unforgivin old cuss. Then I heard 
 Tom Freeman s and Ernie Mason s blabbers a goin, 
 an then Tom yelled, God s sake, don t kill him, 
 Jake. 
 
 "I never turned around, but I says, I will if he 
 tries to get that gun. 
 
 "Ernie he rode in between us, air Tom he went 
 an grabbed the oF man s gun. Ernie he made me 
 give up my gun. Then old Jack, he said, I m a goin 
 to take the law to Jake for tryiir to murder me. He 
 was a goin to shoot me for doubtin his word just 
 as you all come up, an I was a tryiir to get my rifle 
 to defend myself. My word s as good as Jake s any 
 day, an I m always ready to defend my opinions, 
 says the old liar. 
 
 T just up an says: Well, gentlemen, I m ready 
 to go where you say. I ain t afraid of ol Jack nor 
 law neither, when I m on one side an them two is on 
 the other. The only thing that s a botherin me is 
 this bunch of sheep. What s a goin to happen to 
 them if we all go to Covelo ? OF Jack he up an said 
 that they wasn t no need of him a goin yet, an that 
 Tom an Ernie could take me to Covelo an then have 
 somebody sent out to take my place and his n, an 
 he d come to town an help persecute the case. I 
 didn t want to go, but when a man s got to do a 
 thing, he had ought to do it without makin monkey 
 faces. So I told em that I was ready to go, an that 
 
DOYLE, J. P. 91 
 
 they couldn t start any too quick to suit me, nuther. 
 So after dinner me an Tom an Ernie started for 
 Covelo. Tom rode ahead a packin a Winchester, 
 then I come, an Ernie brought up the rear, with a 
 gun in his belt. Now they ain t no fun in bein on 
 the trail under such conditions. They let ol Jack 
 keep his gun, which wasn t fair, an I was afraid the 
 old ex-con d bushwhack me, an , besides, Ernie an 
 Tom an me never was good friends. 
 
 "But nothin stirrin happened, an late that 
 evenin we all rode into Covelo, an I was shet up in 
 the one-horse calaboose. I was somewhat riled up. 
 If you ve ever seen a rattlesnake all coiled up, with 
 his tongue a runnin in an out, his eyes a emittin 
 sparks, an his old rattles a buzzin away like a caucus 
 of locusts, you ve got some idea of how sincerely mad 
 I really was. Alf Redfield, my old pardner, hap 
 pened to be in town, an heard about me a bein shut 
 off from fresh air an the bleating of sheep, an he 
 come to see me. Alf said he was glad to see me, but 
 that he didn t like the place I chose to hole up in. He 
 said as far as he could see I had to have bars over 
 my windows to keep my friends from breakin in. 
 Alf always did like to joke. 
 
 "I says, Alf, this ain t no spasm of laughter I m 
 mixed up in now. Ol Jack 11 tell any kind of a lie, 
 an the chances is he ll have some more like himself 
 on deck to swear me to the big free boardin house 
 kept by the State for the unluckies. 
 
 " Don t worry, Jake, says he. I ll do what I 
 can for you, an you kin rest assured that it ll be 
 somethin more than usual. Ol Jack Johnson is a 
 
92 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 pretty ugly old customer, but he ll find out before he 
 gets done with us that he ain t got the world by the 
 tail. I give Alf my hand, an he give me his, an 
 with that he went out without sayin another word. 
 
 "Two days after that a feller come an got me an 
 took me over before ol Mr. Doyle, the Justice of the 
 Peace. The feller said that he was a Constable, an 
 he looked like he was a fool of some breed or other, 
 havin two six-shooters in his belt an a Bowie knife 
 in his boot. The Constable an the Judge had just 
 been elected, an they didn t know no more about 
 law than a Injun full of whisky. Ol Jack Johnson 
 come into court with his gun a hangin in his belt. 
 Pretty soon I heard a uproar in the street, loud talkin 
 an a noise like they s a lot of people comin , an in a 
 instant in come Alf Redfield, an Ike Wharton, an 
 Lizard Bill Hadley, an Johnnie Gray, an about eight 
 other fellows. Every one of em had on a shore 
 enough Stetson, an a gun a hangin in his belt. 
 
 "After a long time ol Mr. Doyle, the Justice of 
 the Peace, come in a wearin of his plug hat, an then 
 Tom Freeman an Ernie Mason come a gallivantin 
 in. OF Mr. Doyle he took off his hat an polished 
 it with his sleeve, sat down, cleared his throat, an 
 looked over the courtroom. Then he up an says, 
 Air you ready in the case of Frank Perry, alias 
 Wylackie Jake, charged with assault to commit 
 homicide ? 
 
 "I up an blurted out that the funeral procession 
 could start at onct. 
 
 "Then the ol gentleman he up an said, I ain t 
 up much on law, havin just been selected, but Jack 
 
DOYLE, J. P. 93 
 
 Johnson here, the persecutin witness, has seen some 
 law, says he, a laughin , an knows the ways of met 
 ropolitan courts like Wylackie Jake knows the ways 
 of stock, an I m a goin to appoint him bouncer. 
 Jack, says he, you kin consider yourself appointed. 
 
 "The ol Judge now looks over his specs at me, 
 an says he, Jake, have you got a lawyer ? 
 
 " No, says I, I ain t. I m perfectly willin to 
 leave my case to the ignorance of the Court. 
 
 " What s that ? asks the ol man, in a suddent 
 quick, mad-like way, an ol Jack Johnson he took 
 holt of his gun an looked as savage as a cougar up a 
 tree with a dog on the ground a tryin to climb up, 
 an Alf Redfield an the rest of the boys made ready 
 for trouble. Oh, said I, I ain t up on law an law 
 terms, an maybe I didn t drive them words of yourn 
 into the right corral. If I said anything not strictly 
 accordin to Hoyle, why I m the last man in the world 
 that won t take water. 
 
 " You have shore insulted the Court, says ol 
 Mr. Doyle ; but as you seem to be serenely repentant 
 I m a goin to ride on without takin any notice of it. 
 
 "Then the old man he looked over his window 
 panes an says, Alf Redfield an the rest of you, what 
 have you got them guns on for in this here temple 
 of justice? 
 
 "Alf he just grinned an said that him an the rest 
 of the boys d come there to see that Wylackie Jake 
 wasn t a bein made to play in a game where the 
 cyards was branded. The ol man lowed that he d 
 see that I got a even break, with no odds to the 
 dealer, an then he told Alf to round up all of the 
 
94 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 weapons of everybody exceptin the bailiff s, an give 
 em a tag for em, an leave em outside of the door, 
 as he didn t propose to have blind-eyed Justice brow 
 beat by a lot of six-shooters. This a havin been 
 done, the ol man said that he was ready for the mill 
 to commence grindin out grist. Then he up an says, 
 4 Who s your first witness, Jack ? Jack he said, Tom 
 Freeman. Tom come forward, with his mustache 
 all curled, an raised up his left hand to be sworn. 
 Tom an everybody in the courtroom but me an the 
 Judge had his skypiece on. When Tom raised up his 
 left hand to be cussed, ol Jack Johnson come to life 
 as quick an suddent as a grouse flies out of a tree, an 
 he yanked his six-shooter out an covered the witness 
 with about the same kind of ugly action as a rattle 
 snake shows when he draws his flat head back to 
 strike, an says he, in his meanest tone, Take .off 
 your hat an put up your other prop. He added a 
 few lively words, a usin one expression that many a 
 man in the W r est has been killed for usin . Tom he 
 up an took off his hat, air elevated his other hand, 
 an ol Mr. Doyle says, in his blandest tone, That s 
 right, Jack, maintain the dignity of the Court ; that s 
 your job. 
 
 "Tom he says, This beats hell an Arizony rolled 
 together. 
 
 " Gentlemen, says the ol Judge, you mustn t 
 let your angry natures slop over. Don t use such 
 undignified language in the presence of this august 
 Court or I ll be damned if I don t send you all to 
 San Quentin for life. 
 
 "Tom now began to tell about what he saw, an 
 
DOYLE, J. P. 95 
 
 told the truth as nearly as Tom could. When he had 
 finished with his statement, ol Mr. Doyle he says, 
 Do you want to examine this here witness, Jake? 
 No/ says I ; he s told the truth as well as he knows 
 how. 
 
 " Careful, says the ol man to me, every word 
 you admit is a goin to be used again you. 
 
 " That s all right/ says I. It s my deal later on, 
 an they ll be some right smart hands dealt out, too, 
 an don t you forget it. 
 
 "Then Ernie Mason he clumb up on the stand an 
 told what he knowed, which wasn t enough to con 
 vict a chipmunk of stealin a crumb of bread from a 
 open Dutch oven. Then it was ol Jack s turn. He 
 ambled up to the stand an sat down like he was per 
 fectly to home, an then he began to talk about the 
 corpus gesti an the res delicti, an I says that I ob 
 jected to the question of my innocence a bein 
 clouded over by a lot of Chink words. Ol Jack said 
 they was Latin words, that he d heard his lawyer 
 use em the time he was sent up. That s probably 
 why you was sent up/ says I. If he d spoke in plain 
 United States, they s just the slimmest chance in the 
 world the jury would a taken a more charitable view 
 of your case. Ol Mr. Doyle now butted in, an he 
 says: Jack, I ain t up on them old-time languages, 
 an I wisht you d confine your language in the Eng 
 lish or Injun corrals, an not go wanderin around 
 like a stray hog. 
 
 " Now that everybody else is done a talkin / 
 says ol Jack, I ll go on an tell what I know about 
 this case/ 
 
96 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 "He told how him an me had been a talkin , an 
 how he said something an that I d doubted his word, 
 an that he got up from eatin to stir the fire up, an 
 when he turned around I had him covered with my 
 six-shooter; that I was shore a goin to kill him, 
 when Tom an Ernie happened along an saved him. 
 Then ol Mr. Doyle he up an says, Any questions, 
 Jake? 
 
 " Yes, says I. All that he has said is a lie. 
 
 " Order, says ol Mr. Doyle. That ain t no 
 question. Ol Jack he didn t even peep. 
 
 " Your Honor, says I, T have just called ol 
 Jack a liar right here in this temple where justice 
 is dispensed with, an he just sat right there on that 
 witness stand an never took it as a insult at all. Is 
 he any different in the mountains than he is here ? 
 
 " There s somethin in that, Jake, says the 
 Judge. Tf a man s always a watchin his honor like 
 a hunter watches a deer lick, he s a goin to shoot, 
 irrespective of time, place and conditions. 
 
 " Now, Jack, says I, you don t bear a good 
 reputation, do you ? 
 
 "Jack lowed that it was shore better than mine. 
 
 " You ve been to San Quentin for murder, ain t 
 you ? I asks. 
 
 " Yes/ said ol Jack. 
 
 " That s all, says I to him, an he got off the 
 stand. 
 
 " Now, Alf Redfield, says I, take the stand. 
 " What for? asks the Judge. 
 
 " Because I m a goin to prove by Alf an Ike 
 Wharton an the rest of them boys, says I, a sweepin 
 
DOYLE, J. P. 97 
 
 my hand in their direction, like I was a lawyer, that 
 ol Jack Johnson s reputation in the community 
 where he resides is about on a par with that of a 
 sheep-killin dog. Nobody that knows him believes 
 a word he says, an his own dog is scairt of him, a 
 thinkin that when he says "sick him," he means 
 "come here." 
 
 " You needn t prove nothin of that kind, Jake/ 
 says the Judge. The Court ll take judicial recog 
 nizance of that/ says he. That s all the evidence 
 I ve got/ says I, except my own, an I don t want to 
 have to give that, if possible. I d like for to ask ol 
 Jack one more question/ says I. Have the fees in 
 this here case been paid? 
 
 "Or Mr. Doyle he jumped up like some kid had 
 put a pin in his chair an he d sat down on it, an 
 says he, I clean forgot all about the fees. Jack ain t 
 paid em, an the Court has wasted its time. Jake/ 
 says he, you kin go back to your sheep, an ol Jack 11 
 go to jail for contempt of court for five days, and 
 this court stands adjourned on this case to the Judg 
 ment Day/ " 
 
BEYOND THE REALM OF LAW. 
 
 Ernie" Mason, browned from exposure to the 
 summer sun, his alert, knowing eyes gleaming under 
 the brim of his "shore enough Stetson, was standing 
 on a crag, intently watching his charge of browsing 
 sheep. By him stood his mindful collie, the sharp- 
 pointed nose sniffing, the ears cocked. The brown, 
 dirty-fleeced sheep sent forth their persistent and 
 plaintive bleating. The view was surpassing from 
 where the sheepherder stood. To the north was the 
 white cone of Shasta, floating like a cloud in the 
 sky. To the east lay ridge after ridge loaded with 
 trees exuding the odor of balsam, and beyond was 
 the broad and fertile valley of the Sacramento, now 
 denuded of its golden harvest, and covered with a 
 mantle of brown. Back of him was the barren peak 
 of South Yallo Bally, a scrap heap of granite, the 
 playground of cloud, frost and snow. On the west 
 the precipitous Hammer Horn towered. The air 
 was pure and cold, for there was snow in the vicinity. 
 The sun was on the decline, and the shadows, the 
 advance guard of the Army of Night, were beginning 
 to creep down the deep canons. 
 
 "Go fetch em up, Andy," shouted the herder. 
 The dog darted off, and started the leaders down 
 toward the flat where camp was. The herder 
 
BEYOND THE REALM OF LAW 99 
 
 whistled, the dog tore back and forth, making the 
 air vocal with excited, ringing barks. "Ernie," in 
 a spirit of relaxation, drew his heavy revolver from 
 the holster and fired several shots in the air, awaken 
 ing echo after echo. Some of the sheep huddled to 
 gether as the crashes echoed and re-echoed, but soon 
 lost their fear, and presently the whole band made 
 its way down the narrow serpentine trail. Down, 
 down they went, clambering over rocks, through 
 brush, and then through a spruce forest, closely 
 watched by the dog and herder. 
 
 Soon they arrived at the flat, and "Ernie" betook 
 himself to his camp. The sheep, now that the day s 
 outing was over, became playful. The lambs jumped 
 two or three feet in the air. Whole lines of the band 
 charged back and forth across the flat, giving the ap 
 pearance of an end run in a football game. All the 
 time the air was full of their bleating. 
 
 The campfire burned brightly, the coffee boiled 
 merrily and the frying venison sent forth a delicious 
 odor. "Andy" sat near by, apparently very much 
 interested in the preparations for supper. Now and 
 again a few venturesome sheep began to climb out 
 of the flat to browse. At a word from his master 
 the dog ran up near them, turned them back, and 
 then returned to his station by the fire. 
 
 The supper was soon ready, and "Ernie" said 
 "grub pile" to himself, and set to. The mountain 
 air and the day s work had given him a good appetite, 
 and he was oblivious to everything except the hot 
 coffee, the frying pan with its browned venison, and 
 the bread in the Dutch oven. 
 
100 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 The sun had gone behind the Hammer Horn. 
 The purple outlines of the Bully Choops were becom 
 ing indistinct. The deep canons were clothed dark in 
 shadow. The crescent moon was just visible. Soon 
 the night, with its bright train of stars, would come. 
 The wind blowing through the tops of the arrowy 
 spruce sounded like the monotonous beating of the 
 surf on a rock-bound shore ; the perpetual sound of 
 falling water could be heard. 
 
 "Ba, ba-a-a." "Ernie" sat up straight. What was 
 that ? It couldn t come from his herd, it was too in 
 distinct. "Ba, ba-a-a." He stood up. There must 
 be another band of sheep in the vicinity, and he felt 
 that probably the herder intended to camp with his 
 charge on the very flat where he was encamped. He 
 left his supper unfinished and went to the place where 
 the trail entered the flat, excitement in his counte 
 nance. Yes, it was another herd, and it was coming 
 to his flat. 
 
 He heard the loose rock crunching under the 
 hoofs of the advancing sheep. He saw the herder 
 in the rear leading a pack mule, and the ever-present 
 dog was by the herder s side. "Ernie" walked up 
 the trail to meet the herder. 
 
 "Hello, pardner," he said. 
 
 "Hello, yourself," answered the other .herder, a 
 dark, heavily bearded man. 
 
 "Kind o late gettin into camp to-night, eh? 
 Where you strikin out f er ?" asked "Ernie." 
 
 "I m a goin to camp on this flat down here for a 
 couple of days, and then I m a goin to drive em out 
 to the Valley." 
 
BEYOND THE REALM OF LAW 101 
 
 "Don t see how you re goin to do that, pardner. 
 I ve got my band down there, and it wouldn t do to 
 mix em." 
 
 "The hell you ve got your band down there! 
 Well, you just get em right often there. That s 
 my land." 
 
 "Your land? Why, all this land here s Uncle 
 Sam s land. I don t go for you or anybody like you. 
 I m on Uncle Sam s land, and I m one of his boys, 
 and I m a goin to stay where I am if Old Betsy s 
 good for anything, and I think she is shoots like a 
 rifle, and I kin hit a runnin deer at 100 yards." 
 
 "Say, young man, you re talkin kind o loud. 
 Fire uv youth and all that, I guess. That land s my 
 land, and I m a goin to camp this here band uv sheep 
 on it spite uv hell and high water. Go long and 
 drive them sheep uv yourn often there." 
 
 "Pardner, I ll call your bluff. You put four logs 
 down on the ground and called that a cabin, didn t 
 you ? Never hold in the world. I put some timothy 
 in last year did better than the logs did. I m 
 young, but I wasn t born yesterday. I won t get off 
 the flat. I ve known about this flat since before the 
 woods was burnt, and nobody has ever home- 
 steaded it." 
 
 The intruder scowled. He looked at his rifle- 
 stock peeping out of the case strapped to the pack 
 saddle, then at the heavy revolver in "Ernie s" belt. 
 He hesitated a moment, then blurted out : 
 
 "All right, young man, but I ll get even with you. 
 You have plenty of cheek, and it seems to be all 
 sharpened ready for use; but I ll fix you. S long." 
 
102 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 He turned the sheep down the canon toward a 
 little spring. He could camp there, but it was not a 
 suitable place, being very rocky and steep. Down 
 went the sheep, keeping up their bleating. Now and 
 again the sharp whistle of the herder and the loud 
 barking of his dog could be heard above the din. 
 The sides of the canon were heavily timbered, with 
 here and there a rock slide. There were many fallen 
 trees ; besides, there was underbrush in places, so it 
 took some time for the wrathful man to disappear. 
 
 When the din died away, "Ernie" went back to 
 his supper. The fellow intended mischief, that was 
 certain. They were far from civilization, and the 
 mountains could tell no tales. No law of God or man 
 was recognized where they were. Life was reduced 
 to the primal, the elemental. The dark side of human 
 nature had full play, for pretense and affectation 
 stopped at the foothills. A shot from the brush, a 
 scattered band of sheep, a circling cloud of buzzards 
 who would know ? 
 
 "Ernie" decided to keep close watch until his 
 troublesome visitor had departed. He finished his 
 supper, and when darkness had come, carried his 
 blankets beyond the glare of the firelight to the head 
 of the canon. He rolled up in his blankets, the "gun" 
 near at hand, and lay looking at the stars. The night 
 soon became very dark, for the moon was young, 
 and sank behind a peak. Overhead the starry host 
 twinkled, and the Milky Way trailed like a shadowy 
 serpent across the heavens. The weather was cold, 
 and there was a wind blowing that chilled to the 
 bone. The bleating of the sheep had ceased. Save 
 
BEYOND THE REALM OF LAW 103 
 
 for the sound of falling water and the rush of wind 
 through the treetops, a Titanic silence prevailed. 
 
 In the morning of this day, when young Jim Hol 
 land threw away a lighted cigarette on the canon 
 side below where "Ernie" was sleeping, he did not 
 foresee the results. He did not dream that his 
 thoughtless act would start a fire that would lay 
 waste the shaggy forest for miles around. He was 
 too intently engaged in hunting deer to think of any 
 thing else. So when he dropped the lighted cigarette 
 in a small heap of dry pine needles, he went on his 
 way without giving the matter a thought. By night 
 he had returned to his camp, miles distant. But the 
 little disk of fire remained. It caught the pine 
 needles, and then slowly spread. By night probably 
 two acres had been burned over, and several logs 
 were smoldering. It needed merely a brisk breeze 
 and a royal fire would be under way. 
 
 "Ernie" soon dropped into a fretful sleep, "Andy" 
 lying near. He rolled and tossed. Of a sudden he 
 sat up, his eyes blinking. The moon had gone down 
 a long time before. It was unheard of that it should 
 go down and then rise again. Crackle, crackle a 
 sullen roar. Great God ! That light wasn t from 
 the moon. The canon was full of flame, and the wind 
 was forcing the fire up towards the flat. Huge 
 tongues of flame darted up from dry logs, a brush 
 heap crackled and burst into a blaze, little trains of 
 fire crawled like serpents among the pine needles, 
 long, arrowy flames flared up the trunks of moss- 
 covered trees. 
 
 It flashed through "Ernie s" mind in an instant. 
 
104 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 The forest was on fire. Crackle, crackle, rush and 
 roar. On came the fire. A dry limb caught, and 
 the flame darted out to the end and gave the appear 
 ance of a flash of lightning. "Ernie" went down the 
 canon a little way and found the heat intense. There 
 was great danger that his charges would perish in 
 the conflagration. Of course he could escape with 
 his life, for he could run faster than the fire ; but the 
 sheep, he couldn t move them at night; they would 
 "shore" stampede. 
 
 "Bang!" 
 
 "Ernie" jumped behind a rock out of the light. 
 The bullet went whistling through the boulders. 
 
 "Damn a man who does his work in the dark !" 
 
 "Ernie" crawled back to the flat. The fire had 
 not lighted it up yet to any appreciable extent. The 
 sheep were not moving. They were not yet dis 
 turbed. With the assistance of "Andy," he rounded 
 them up in the center of the meadow, and awaited 
 developments. The fire ran swiftly up the canon, 
 and the flat became lighter and lighter. The sheep 
 became uneasy ; their plaintive bleat could be heard 
 above the rush and roar of the fire. 
 
 On, on came the flame demon. With one final 
 rush it reached the head of the canon, and darted 
 like lightning up a tall, dry spruce tree that a former 
 fire had killed. The sheep began to run back and 
 forth on the flat. The heat was intense. In a few 
 seconds "Ernie" knew that his charges would begin 
 to stampede. He would try and drive them up 
 among the rocks, where there was no timber. The 
 flat became as light as day. 
 
BEYOND THE REALM OF LAW 105 
 
 "Bang!" 
 
 A bullet hit the ground at his feet. He saw the 
 flash of his enemy s rifle, and, pulling his heavy re 
 volver from the holster, fired at the spot. 
 
 Ah ! What was that ? 
 
 A loud wail of despair. 
 
 "Oh, Christ ! Bitten by a rattlesnake ! Oh, God ! 
 Oh, God ! Oh, oh !" came to his ears over the rush 
 and roar of the flames. 
 
 The fire cracked and crackled, blazed and roared. 
 The sheep became more excited and restless. "Ernie" 
 began to drive his charges toward the rocks. The 
 voice of his enemy could be heard above the roar of 
 the flames. Over the bleating of the sheep the shrill, 
 sharp bark of the collie could be distinguished. 
 
 "I m goin to die, but I ll take you with me. I ll 
 kill you for settin out that fire!" yelled a frenzied 
 voice. 
 
 "Ernie" saw a haggard, wild-looking, black- 
 bearded man hurl himself through the flames, his 
 rifle in the hollow of his arm. 
 
 "Say your prayers, young man. We haven t got 
 much longer to live. I feel the poison a workin ." 
 
 He drew his rifle toward his shoulder. "Ernie" 
 heard the lever click. 
 
 "Ernie" drew his revolver. 
 
 "Oh, God! Oh, God! This pain is frightful. Oh, 
 oh!" moaned the snake-bitten man. He staggered. 
 He tried to raise his rifle toward "Ernie," then he 
 fell over, writhing and twisting. "Buzz, buzz, damn 
 you, buzz !" shrieked the horror-stricken man. 
 
 "Ernie," fearful of some trick, sought refuge be- 
 
106 WYLACKIE JAKE OF COVELO 
 
 hind a boulder. He peered over it. He saw his 
 enemy roll and writhe ; he heard his curses and im 
 precations. For a moment he would lie still ; for an 
 instant his tongue would be silent. Then he would 
 have a spasm. Then words would come forth in one 
 long, continuous monologue of mixed prayers and 
 curses. Finally "Ernie" decided to go to his aid, 
 and stepped from behind the boulder. The injured 
 man sat up ; he reached for his rifle. "Ernie" stepped 
 back to his position of security. He looked over and 
 saw the man calmly put the muzzle of his rifle to his 
 head, pull the trigger, and roll over. 
 
 Flames chased flames over logs and through 
 brush. They seemed to compete for the honor of 
 being first up a tree. The sheep began to climb up 
 out of the flat, but -the fierce flames and their rushing 
 and roaring frightened them. 
 
 The mournful sound of the bleating of the sheep 
 blended with the wild and angry roar of the flames. 
 There was a rush, hundreds of hoofs hammered 
 the loose rocks. There was a sound as of crush 
 ing and crowding trampling. Some of the 
 frightened sheep dashed straight into the flames, 
 their eyes distended with terror. The moun 
 tain side was lit up for yards and yards by 
 the flaring flames. Clumps of spruce and alder, 
 mingled with gigantic boulders, stood out in 
 bold relief. When the sheep stampeded, the flat was 
 almost encircled by a flaming wall. Now that 
 "Ernie s" charges had destroyed themselves, he 
 sought his own safety. He climbed up on the sum 
 mit, the scrap heap of decomposed granite, and 
 
BEYOND THE REALM OF LAW 107 
 
 looked down upon the sea of angry flames. Above 
 the rush and roar he thought he detected the startled 
 braying of a mule and the shrill ringing bark of a 
 dog. 
 
 For two days "Ernie" tried to round up some of 
 the scattered sheep which had survived the wild night 
 stampede, but his effort was well nigh fruitless. 
 When he reached the valley, of the 1,000 he had 
 started for the mountains with in the month of May, 
 he could scarcely muster 200. 
 
 Far down in the canon when "Ernie" left was a 
 circling cloud of huge, black birds, that for many 
 days feasted upon the carcasses of sheep that had 
 perished, and at night bears and panthers growled 
 and glared as they crunched bones. 
 
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