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THE MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
THE 
 
 MAN ON THE BEACH 
 
 BRET HARTE 
 
 LONDON 
 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS 
 THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE 
 
BRET HARTE'S WORKS, 
 
 THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP. 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS. 
 
 CONDENSED NOVELS. 
 
 AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN. 
 
 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS. 
 
 WAN LEE THE PAGAN. 
 
 THANKFUL BLOSSOM. 
 
 MY FRIEND THE TRAMP. 
 
 THE STORY OF A MINE. 
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE MAN ON THE BEACH .... 7 
 
 THE HOODLUM BAND 71 
 
 "WHO WAS MY QUIET FRIEND?". . . 107 
 
THE 
 
 MAN ON THE BEACH, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1 JE lived beside a river that emptied into a 
 great ocean. The narrow strip of land 
 that lay between him and the estuary was 
 covered at high tide by a shining film of water, 
 at low tide v/ith the cast-up offerings of sea 
 and shore. Logs yet green and saplings washed 
 away from inland banks, battered fragments of 
 wrecks and orange crates of bamboo, broken 
 into tiny rafts yet odorous with their lost freight, 
 lay in long successive curves the fringes and 
 overlappings of the sea. At high noon the 
 shadow of a seagull's wing, or a sudden flurry 
 and gray squall of sand pipers themselves but 
 
The Man on the Beach. 
 
 shadows was all that broke the monotonous 
 glare of the level sands. 
 
 He had lived there alone for a twelvemonth. 
 Although but a few miles from a thriving settle 
 ment. During that time his retirement had 
 never been intruded upon, his seclusion re 
 mained unbroken. In any other community 
 he might have been the subject of rumour or 
 criticism, but the miners at Camp Rogue and the 
 traders at Trinidad Head themselves individual 
 and eccentric were profoundly indifferent to 
 all other forms of eccentricity or heterodoxy 
 that did not come in contact with their own. 
 And certainly there was no form of eccentricity 
 less aggressive than that of a "hermit," had 
 they chosen to give him that title. But they 
 did not even do that probably from lack of 
 interest or perception. To the various traders 
 who supplied his small wants he was known as 
 "Kernel," "Judge," and " Boss." To the 
 general public " The Man on the Beach " was 
 considered a sufficiently distinguishing title. 
 His name, his occupation, rank or antecedents, 
 nobody cared to inquire. Whether this arose 
 from a fear of reciprocal inquiry and interest, 
 
T/ie Man on the Beach. 
 
 or from the profound indifference before alluded 
 to, I cannot say. 
 
 He did not look like a hermit. A man yet 
 young, erect, well-dressed, clean-shaven, with a 
 low voice, and a smile half melancholy, half 
 cynical, was scarcely the conventional idea of a 
 solitary. His dwelling 1 , a rude improvement on 
 a fisherman's cabin, had all the severe exterior 
 simplicity of frontier architecture, but within 
 was comfortable and wholesome. Three rooms 
 a kitchen, living room, and a bedroom were 
 all it contained. 
 
 He had lived there long enough to see the 
 dull monotony of one season lapse into the dull 
 monotony of the other. The bleak northwest 
 trade winds had brought him mornings of 
 staring sunlight and nights of fog and silence. 
 The warmer southwest trades had brought him 
 clouds, rain, and the transient glories of quick 
 grasses and odorous beech blossoms. But, 
 summer or winter, wet or dry season, on one 
 side rose always the sharply defined hills, with 
 their changeless background of evergreens ; on 
 the other side stretched always the illimitable 
 ocean as sharply defined against the horizon, 
 
IO The Man on the Beach. 
 
 and as unchanging in its hue. The onset of 
 spring and autumn tides, some changes among 
 his feathered neighbors, the footprints of cer 
 tain wild animals along the river's bank, and 
 the hanging out of parti-colored signals from 
 the wooded hillside far inland helped him to 
 record the slow months. On summer after 
 noons, when the sun sank behind a bank of fog 
 that, moving solemnly shoreward, at last en 
 compassed him and blotted out sea and sky, his 
 isolation was complete. The damp gray sea 
 that flowed above and around and about him 
 always seemed to shut out an intangible world 
 beyond, and to be the only real presence. The 
 booming of breakers only a few rods from his 
 dwelling was but a vague and unintelligible 
 sound, or the echo of something past forever. 
 Every morning when the sun tore away the 
 misty curtain he awoke, dazed and bewildered, 
 as upon a new world. The first sense of oppres 
 sion over, he came to love at last this subtle 
 spirit of oblivion ; and at night, when its cloudy 
 wings were folded over his cabin, he would sit 
 alone with a sense of security he had never felt 
 before. On such occasions he was apt to leave 
 
The Man on the Beach. II 
 
 his door open, and listen as for footsteps, for 
 what might not come to him out of this vague, 
 nebulous world outside. Perhaps even she 
 for this strange solitary was not insane nor 
 visionary. He was only materially alone. For 
 night and day, sleeping or waking, pacing the 
 beach or crouching over his driftwood fire, a 
 woman's face was always before him the face 
 for whose sake and for cause of whom he sat 
 there alone. He saw it in the morning sunlight ; 
 it was her white hands that were lifted from the 
 crested breakers ; it was the rustling of her 
 skirt when the sea wind swept through the long 
 beach grasses ; it was the loving whisper of her 
 low voice when the long waves sank and died 
 among the sedge and rushes. She was as 
 omnipresent as sea and sky and level sand. 
 Hence, when the fog wiped them away, she 
 seemed to draw closer to him in the darkness. 
 On one or two more gracious nights in midsum 
 mer, when the influence of the fervid noonday 
 sun was still felt on the heated sands, the warm 
 breath of the fog touched his cheek as if it had 
 been hers, and the salt tears started to his eyes. 
 Before the fogs came for he arrived there 
 
12 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 in winter he had found surcease and rest in 
 the steady light of a lighthouse upon the little 
 promontory, a league below his habitation. 
 Even on the darkest nights and in the tumults 
 of storm it spoke to him of a patience that was 
 enduring and a steadfastness that was unshak 
 able. Later on he found a certain dumb com 
 panionship in an uprooted tree, which, floating 
 down the river, had stranded hopelessly upon 
 his beach, but in the evening had again drifted 
 away. Roving across the estuary a day or two 
 afterwards, he recognized the tree again from a 
 " blaze " of the settler's axe still upon its trunk. 
 He was not surprised a week later to find the 
 same tree in the sands before his dwelling, 
 or that the next morning it should be again 
 launched on its purposeless wanderings. And 
 so, impelled by wind or tide, but always haunt 
 ing his seclusion, he would meet it voyaging up 
 the river at the flood, or see it tossing among 
 the breakers on the bar, but always with the 
 confidence of its returning sooner or later to 
 an anchorage beside him. After the third 
 month of his self-imposed exile, he was forced 
 into a more human companionship that was 
 
The Man on the Beach. 13 
 
 brief but regular. He was obliged to have 
 menial assistance. While he might have eaten 
 his bread " in sorrow " carelessly and mechani 
 cally, if it had been prepared for him, the occu 
 pation of cooking his own food brought the 
 vulgarity and materialness of existence so near 
 to his morbid sensitiveness that he could not 
 eat the meal he had himself prepared. He did 
 not yet wish to die, and when starvation or 
 society seemed to be the only alternative, he 
 chose the latter. An Indian woman, so hideous 
 as to scarcely suggest humanity, at stated times 
 performed for him those offices. When she 
 did not come, which was not infrequent, he did 
 not eat. 
 
 Such was the mental and physical condition 
 of " The Man on the Beach " on the 1st of Jan 
 uary, 1869. 
 
 It was a still bright day, following a week of 
 rain and wind. Low down the horizon still 
 lingered a few white flecks the flying squad 
 rons of the storm as vague as distant sails. 
 Southward the harbor bar whitened occasionally 
 but lazily ; even the turbulent Pacific swell 
 stretched its length wearily upon the shore. 
 
14 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 And toiling over the low sand dunes, from the 
 settlement a carnage at last halted half a mile 
 from the solitary's dwelling. 
 
 " I reckon ye'll hev to git out here," said the 
 driver pulling up to breathe his panting horses. 
 " Ye can't git any nigher." 
 
 There was a groan of execration from the 
 interior of the vehicle, a hysterical little shriek, 
 and one or two shrill expressions of feminine 
 disapprobation, but the driver moved not. At 
 last a masculine head expostulated from the 
 window : " Look here ; you agreed to take us to 
 the house. Why, it's a mile away at least !" 
 
 "Thar, or tharabouts, I reckon," said the 
 driver, coolly crossing his legs on the box. 
 
 " It's no use talking ; /never can walk through 
 this sand and horrid glare," said a female voice 
 quickly and imperatively. Then apprehensively, 
 "Well, of all the places!" 
 "Well, I never!" 
 " This does exceed everything." 
 " It's really too idiotic for anything." 
 It was noticeable that while the voices be 
 trayed the difference of age and sex, they bore 
 a singular resemblance to each other, and a 
 
The Man on the Beach. 
 
 certain querulousness of pitch that was domi 
 nant. 
 
 " I reckon I've gone about as fur as I allow to 
 go with them hosses," continued the driver sug 
 gestively, "and as time's vallyble, ye'd better 
 onload yerselves." 
 
 " The wretch does not mean to leave us here 
 alone ? " said a female voice in shrill indignation. 
 " You'll wait for us, driver/' said a masculine 
 voice, confidently, 
 
 " How long ? " asked the driver. 
 
 There was a hurried consultation within. The 
 words " might send us packing!" " May take 
 all night to get him to listen to reason." 
 " Bother ! whole thing over in ten minutes," 
 came from the window. The driver meanwhile 
 had settled himself back in his seat, and whistled 
 in patient contempt of a fashionable " fare " that 
 didn't know its own mind nor destination. 
 Finally, the masculine head was thrust out, 
 and, with a certain potential air of judicially 
 ending a difficulty, said : 
 
 " You're to follow us slowly, and put up 
 your horses in the stable or barn until we want 
 you." 
 
1 6 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 An ironical laugh burst from the driver. 
 " Oh, yes in the stable or barn in course. 
 But, my eyes sorter failin' me, mebbee now, 
 some er you younger folks will kindly pint 
 out the stable or barn of the Kernel's. Woa ! 
 will ye ! woa ! Give me a chance to pick 
 out that there barn or stable to put ye in !" 
 This in arch confidence to the horses, who had 
 not moved. 
 
 Here the' previous speaker, rotund, dignified, 
 and elderly, alighted indignantly, closely 
 followed by the rest of the party two ladies 
 and a gentleman. One of the ladies was past 
 the age, but not the fashion of youth, and her 
 Parisian dress clung over her wasted figure and 
 well-bred bones, artistically, if not gracefully ; 
 the younger lady, evidently her daughter, was 
 crisp and pretty, and carried off the aquiline 
 nose and aristocratic emaciation of her mother 
 with a certain piquancy and dash that was 
 charming. The gentleman was young, thin, 
 with the family characteristics, but otherwise in 
 distinctive. 
 
 With one accord they all faced directly toward 
 the spot indicated by the driver's whip. Nothing 
 
The Man on tJie BeacJi. 17 
 
 but the bare, bleak, rectangular outlines of the 
 cabin of " The Man on the Beach " met their 
 eyes. All else was a desolate expanse, un 
 relieved by any structure higher than the tus 
 socks of scant beach grass that clothed it. They 
 were so utterly helpless that the driver's derisive 
 laughter gave way at last to good humour and 
 suggestion. " Look yee," he said finally, " I 
 don't know ez it's your fault you don't know 
 this kentry ez well ez you do Yurup ; so I'll 
 drag this yer team over to Baker's on the river, 
 give the horses a bite, and then meander down 
 this yer ridge, and wait for ye. Ye'll see me 
 from the Kernel's." And without waiting for a 
 reply, he swung his horses' heads toward the 
 river, and rolled away. 
 
 The same querulous protest that had come 
 from the windows arose from the group, but 
 vainly. Then followed accusations and recrimi 
 nation. " It's your fault ; you might have 
 written, and had him meet us at the settle 
 ment." " You wanted to take him by surprise !" 
 "I didn't." "You knew if I'd written that we 
 were coming, he'd have taken good care to run 
 away from us." " Yes, to some more inaccessible 
 
 c 
 
1 8 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 place." " There can be none worse than this," 
 &c., &c. But it was so clearly evident that 
 nothing was to be done but to go forward, that 
 even in the midst of their wrangling they 
 straggled on in Indian file toward the distant 
 cabin, sinking ankle deep in the yielding sand, 
 punctuating their verbal altercation with sighs, 
 and only abating it at a scream from the elder 
 lady. 
 
 "Where's Maria?" 
 
 " Gone on ahead ! " grunted the younger gen 
 tleman, in a bass voice, so incongruously large 
 for him that it seemed to have been a ventrilo- 
 quistic contribution by somebody else. 
 
 It was too true. Maria, after adding her pun 
 gency to the general-conversation, had darted 
 on ahead. But alas ! that swift Camilla, after 
 scouring the plain some two hundred feet with 
 her demi-train, came to grief on an unbending 
 tussock and sat down, panting but savage. As 
 they plodded wearily toward her, she bit her 
 red lips, smacked them on her cruel little white 
 teeth like a festive and sprightly ghoul, and 
 lisped : 
 
 " You do look so like guys ! For all the world 
 
The Man on the Beach. 19 
 
 like those English shopkeepers we met on the 
 Righi, doing the three-guinea excursion in their 
 Sunday clothes ! " 
 
 Certainly the spectacle of these exotically 
 plumed bipeds, whose fine feathers were already 
 bedrabbled by sand and growing limp in the 
 sea breeze, was somewhat dissonant with the 
 rudeness of sea and sky and shore. A few 
 gulls screamed at them ; a loon startled from 
 the lagoon arose shrieking and protesting, with 
 painfully extended legs, in obvious burlesque of 
 the younger gentleman. The elder lady felt the 
 justice of her gentle daughter's criticism, and 
 retaliated with simple directness : 
 
 " Your skirt is ruined, your hair is coming 
 down, your hat is half off your head, and your 
 shoes in heaven's name, Maria! what have 
 you done with your shoes ? " 
 
 Maria had exhibited a slim stockinged foot 
 from under her skirt. It was scarcely three 
 fingers broad, with an arch as patrician as her 
 nose. " Somewhere between here and the car 
 riage," she answered ; " Dick can run back and 
 find it while he is looking for your brooch, 
 mamma. Dick's so obliging." 
 
 C 2 
 
2O The Man on the Beach. 
 
 The robust voice of Dick thundered, but the 
 wasted figure of Dick feebly ploughed its way 
 back, and returned with the missing buskin. 
 
 " I may as well carry them in my hand like 
 the market girls at Saumur, for we have got to 
 wade soon," said Miss Maria, sinking her own 
 terrors in the delightful contemplation of the 
 horror in her parent's face, as she pointed to a 
 shining film of water slowly deepening in a 
 narrow swale in the sands between them and 
 the cabin. 
 
 " It's the tide," said the elder gentleman. " If 
 we intend to go on we must hasten ; permit me, 
 my dear madam," and before she could reply 
 he had lifted the astounded matron in his arms, 
 and made gallantly for the ford. The gentle 
 Maria cast an ominous eye on her brother who, 
 with manifest reluctance, performed for her the 
 same office. But that acute young lady kept 
 her eyes upon the preceding figure of the elder 
 gentleman, and seeing him suddenly and 
 mysteriously disappear to his armpits, unhesita 
 tingly threw herself from her brother's protect 
 ing arms an action which instantly precipitated 
 him into the water and paddled hastily to the 
 
The Man on the Beach. 2 1 
 
 opposite bank, where she eventually assisted in 
 pulling the elderly gentleman out of the hollow 
 in which he had fallen, and in rescuing her 
 mother, who floated helplessly upheld by her 
 skirts like a gigantic and variegated water lily 
 on the surface. Dick followed with a single 
 gaiter. In another minute they were safe on 
 the opposite bank. 
 
 The elder lady gave way to tears, Maria 
 laughed hysterically, Dick mingled a bass oath 
 with the now audible surf; the elder gentleman, 
 whose florid face the salt water had bleached, 
 and whose dignity seemed to have been w r ashed 
 away, accounted for both by saying he thought 
 it was a quicksand. 
 
 " It might have been," said a quiet voice 
 behind them ; " you should have followed the 
 sand dunes half a mile further to the estuary." 
 
 They turned instantly at the voice. It was 
 that of " The Man on the Beach." They all rose 
 to their feet and uttered together, save one, the 
 single exclamation, " James ! " The elder gen 
 tleman said " Mr. North," and, with a slight 
 resumption of his former dignity, buttoned his 
 coat over his damp shirt front. 
 
22 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 There was a silence, in which the Man on the 
 Beach looked gravely down upon them. If they 
 had intended to impress him by any suggestion 
 of a gay, brilliant, and sensuous world without 
 in their own persons, they had failed, and they 
 knew it. Keenly alive as they had always been 
 to external prepossession, they felt that they 
 looked forlorn and ludicrous, and that the sit 
 uation lay in his hands. The elderly lady again 
 burst into tears of genuine distress. Maria 
 coloured over her cheek bones, and Dick stared 
 at the ground in sullen disquiet. 
 
 " You had better get up," said the Man on the 
 Beach, after a moment's thought, " and come 
 up to the cabin. I cannot offer you a change of 
 garments, but you can dry them by the fire." 
 
 They all rose together, and again said, in 
 chorus, "James ! " but this time with an evident 
 effort to recall some speech or action previously 
 resolved upon and committed to memory. The 
 elder lady got so far as to clasp her hands 
 and add, " You have not forgotten us James, 
 oh, James ! " the younger gentleman to attempt 
 a brusque, " Why, Jim, old boy," that ended in 
 querulous incoherence, the young lady to cast a 
 
The Man on the Beach. 23 
 
 half-searching, half-coquettish look at him, and 
 the old gentleman to begin, " Our desire, Mr. 
 North" but the effort was futile. Mr. James 
 North, standing before them with folded arms, 
 looked from the one to the other. 
 
 " I have not thought much of you for a 
 twelvemonth," he said, quietly, " but I have not 
 forgotten you. Come." 
 
 He led the way a few steps in advance, they 
 following silently. In this brief interview they 
 felt he had resumed the old dominance and in 
 dependence against which they had rebelled ; 
 more than that, in this half failure of their first 
 concerted action they had changed their queru 
 lous bickerings to a sullen distrust of each 
 other, and walked moodily apart as they fol 
 lowed James North into his house. A fire 
 blazed brightly on the hearth ; a few extra seats 
 were quickly extemporized from boxes and 
 chests, and the elder lady, with the skirt of her 
 dress folded over her knees looking not unlike 
 an exceedingly overdressed jointed doll dried 
 her flounces and her tears together. Miss 
 Maria took in the scant appointments of the 
 house in one single glance, and then fixed her 
 
24 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 eyes upon James North, who, the least con 
 cerned of the party, stood before them, grave 
 and patiently expectant. 
 
 " Well," began the elder lady in a high key, 
 " after all this worry and trouble you have given 
 us, James, haven't you anything to say ? Do you 
 know have you the least idea what you are 
 doing ? what egregious folly you are commit 
 ting ? what everybody is saying ? Eh ? 
 Heavens and earth ! do you know who I am ? " 
 
 " You are my father's brother's widow, Aunt 
 Mary," returned James quietly. " If I am com 
 mitting any folly it only concerns myself. If I 
 cared what people said I should not be here ; if 
 I loved Society enough to appreciate its good 
 report I should stay with it." 
 
 "But they say you have run away from 
 society to pine alone for a worthless creature 
 a woman who has used you, as she has used and 
 thrown away others a " 
 
 " A woman," chimed in Dick, who had thrown 
 himself on James's bed while his patent leathers 
 were drying " a woman that all the fellers 
 know never intended " here, however, he met 
 James North's eye, and muttering something 
 
The MCJI on the Beach. 2$ 
 
 about "whole thing being too idiotic to talk 
 about," relapsed into silence. 
 
 "You know," continued Mrs. North, "that 
 while we and all our set shut our eyes to your 
 very obvious relations with that woman^ and 
 while I myself often spoke of it to others as a 
 simple flirtation, and averted a scandal for your 
 sake, and when the climax was reached, and she 
 herself gave you an opportunity to sever your 
 relations, and nobody need have been wiser 
 and she'd have had all the blame and it's only 
 what she's accustomed to you you ! you, 
 James North you must nonsensically go,- and, 
 by this extravagant piece of idiocy and senti 
 mental tomfoolery, let everybody see how 
 serious the whole affair was, and how deep it 
 hurt you ! and here in this awful place, alone 
 where you're half drowned to get to it, and are 
 willing to be wholly drowned to get away ! Oh, 
 don't talk to me ! I won't hear it it's just too 
 idiotic for anything ! " 
 
 The subject of this outburst neither spoke not 
 moved a single muscle. 
 
 " Your aunt, Mr. North, speaks excitedly," 
 said the elder gentleman ; " yet I think she does 
 
26 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 not overestimate the unfortunate position in 
 which your odd fancy places you. I know 
 nothing of the reasons that have impelled you 
 to this step ; I only know that the popular 
 opinion is that the cause is utterly inadequate. 
 You are still young, with a future before you. 
 I need not say how your present conduct may 
 imperil that. If you expected to achieve any 
 good even to your own satisfaction by this 
 conduct " 
 
 " Yes if there was anything to be gained by 
 it ! " broke in Mrs. North. 
 
 " If you ever thought she'd come back ! but 
 that kind of woman don't. They must have 
 change. Why ? " began Dick suddenly, and as 
 suddenly lying down again. 
 
 " Is this all you have come to say ? " asked 
 James North, after a moment's patient silence, 
 looking from one to the other. 
 
 " All ? " screamed Mrs. North ; is it not 
 enough ? " 
 
 " Not to change my mind nor my residence 
 at present," replied North, coolly. 
 
 " Do you mean to continue this folly all your 
 life ? " 
 
TJie Man on the Beach. 27 
 
 " And have a Coroner's inquest, and adver 
 tisements and all the facts in the papers ? " 
 
 " And have her read the melancholy details, 
 and know that you were faithful and she was 
 not?" 
 
 This last shot was from the gentle Maria, who 
 bit her lips as it glanced from the immovable 
 man. 
 
 " I believe that is all to be said," continued 
 North, quietly. " I am willing to believe your 
 intentions are as worthy as your zeal. Let us 
 say no more," he added, with grave weariness. 
 " The tide is rising, and your coachman- is 
 signalling you from the bank." 
 
 There was no mistaking the unshaken posi- 
 tiveness of the man, which was all the more 
 noticeable from its gentle but utter indifference 
 as to the wishes of the party. He turned his 
 back upon them as they gathered hurriedly 
 around the elder gentleman, while the words, 
 " He cannot be in his right mind," " It's your 
 duty to do it," " It's sheer insanity," " Look at 
 his eye!" (Dick dixit\ &c., fell unconsciously 
 upon his ear. 
 " One word more, Mr. North," said the elder 
 
28 TJie Man on the D cacti. 
 
 gentleman, a little portentously, to conceal an 
 evident embarrassment. " It may be that your 
 conduct might suggest to minds more practical 
 than your own the existence of some aberration 
 of the intellect some temporary mania that 
 might force your best friends into a quasi-legal 
 
 attitude of " 
 
 " Declaring me insane," interrupted James 
 North, with the slight impatience of a man more 
 anxious to end a prolix interview than combat 
 an argument. " I think differently. As my 
 aunt's lawyer, you know that within the last 
 year I have deeded most of my property to her 
 and her family I cannot believe that so shrewd 
 an adviser as Mr. Henry Carter would ever 
 permit proceedings that would invalidate that 
 conveyance." 
 
 Maria burst into a laugh of such wicked grati 
 fication that James North, for the first time, 
 raised his eyes with something of interest to 
 her face. She colored under them, but returned 
 his glance with another like a bayonet flash. 
 The party slowly moved toward the door, James 
 North following. 
 
 " Then this is your final answer ? " asked 
 
The Man on the Beach. 29 
 
 Mrs. North, stopping imperiously on the thres 
 hold. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ?" queried North, half 
 abstractedly. 
 
 " Your final answer ! " 
 
 " Oh, certainly." 
 
 Mrs. North flouaced away a dozen rods in 
 rage. This was unfortunate for North. It gave 
 them a final attack in detail. Dick began : 
 " Come along ! You know you can advertise 
 for her with a personal down there, and the old 
 woman wouldn't object as long as you were 
 careful and put in an appearance now and 
 then ! " 
 
 As Dick limped away, Mr. Carter thought, 
 in confidence, that the whole matter even to 
 suit Mr. North's sensitive nature might be 
 settled there. " She evidently expects you to 
 return. My opinion is that she never left San 
 Francisco. You can't tell anything about these 
 women." 
 
 With this last sentence on his indifferent ear, 
 James North seemed to be left free. Maria 
 had rejoined her mother ; but as they crossed 
 the ford, and an intervening sand hill hid the 
 
3O The Man on the Beach. 
 
 others from sight, that piquant young lady 
 suddenly appeared on the hill and stood before 
 him. 
 
 " And you're not coming back ? " she said di 
 rectly. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Never ? " 
 
 " I cannot say." 
 
 " Tell me what is there about some women 
 to make men love them so ? " 
 
 " Love ! " replied North, quietly. 
 
 " No, it cannot be it is not that ! " 
 
 North looked over the hill and round the hill, 
 and looked bored. 
 
 " O, I'm going now. But one moment, Jem ! 
 I didn't want to come. They dragged me here. 
 Good-by." 
 
 She raised a burning face and eyes to his. 
 He leaned forward and imprinted the per 
 functory cousinly kiss of the period upon her 
 cheek. 
 
 "Not that way," she said angrily, clutching 
 his wrists with her long, thin fingers: "you 
 shan't kiss me in that way, James North." 
 
 With the faintest, ghost-like passing of a 
 
The Man on the Beach. 31 
 
 twinkle in the corners of his sad eyes, he 
 touched his lips to hers. With the contact, she 
 caught him round the neck, pressed her burn 
 ing lips and face to his own, to his forehead, his 
 cheeks, the very curves of his chin and throat, 
 and with a laugh was gone. 
 
 Had the kinsfolk of James North any hope 
 that their visit might revive some lingering 
 desire he still combated to enter once more the 
 world they represented that hope would have 
 soon died. Whatever effect this episode had 
 upon the solitary and he had become so self- 
 indulgent of his sorrow, and so careless of all 
 that came between him and it, as to meet oppo 
 sition with profound indifference whatever ap 
 preciable result there was in this especial con 
 tact, was a greater attraction for the solitude 
 that protected him, and he grew even to love 
 the bleak shore and barren sands that had 
 proved so inhospitable to them. There was a 
 new meaning to the roar of the surges, an 
 honest, loyal sturdiness in the unchanging per 
 sistency of the uncouth and blustering trade 
 
32 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 winds, and a mute fidelity in the shining sands, 
 treacherous to all but him. With such base 
 dogs to lie in wait for trespassers, should he not 
 be grateful ? 
 
 If no bitterness was awakened by the re 
 peated avowal of the unfaithfulness of the 
 woman he loved, it was because he had always 
 made the observation and experience of others 
 give way to the dominance of his own insight. 
 No array of contradictory facts ever shook his 
 belief or unbelief ; like all egotists, he accepted 
 them as truths controlled by a larger truth of 
 which he was cognizant. His simplicity, which 
 was but another form of his egotism, was so 
 complete as to baffle ordinary malicious cun 
 ning, and so he was spared the experience and 
 knowledge that comes to a lower nature, and 
 helps debase it. 
 
 Exercise and the stimulus of the few wants 
 that sent him hunting or fishing kept up his 
 physical health. Never a lover of rude free 
 dom or outdoor life, his sedentary predilections 
 and nice tastes kept him from lapsing into bar 
 barian excess ; never a sportsman, he followed 
 the chase with no feverish exaltation. Even 
 
The Man on the Beach. 33 
 
 dumb creatures found out his secret, and at 
 times, stalking moodily over the upland, the 
 brown deer and elk would cross his path with 
 out fear or molestation, or, idly lounging in his 
 canoe within the river bar, flocks of wild fowl 
 would settle within stroke of his listless oar. 
 And so the second winter of his hermitage drew 
 near its close, and with it came a storm that 
 passed into local history and is still remem 
 bered. It uprooted giant trees along the river, 
 and with them the tiny rootlets of the life he 
 was idly fostering. 
 
 The morning had been fitfully turbulent, the 
 wind veering several points south and west, 
 with suspicious lulls, unlike the steady onset ot 
 the regular southwest trades. High overhead 
 the long manes of racing cirro stratus streamed 
 with flying gulls and hurrying water fowl ; 
 plover piped incessantly, and a flock of timor 
 ous sand pipers sought the low ridge of his 
 cabin, while a wrecking crew of curlew hastily 
 manned the uprooted tree that tossed wearily 
 beyond the bar. By noon the 'flying clouds 
 .huddled together in masses, and then were as 
 suddenly blown in one vast opaque sheet over 
 
 P 
 
34 TJte Man on the Beach. 
 
 the heavens. The sea became gray and sud 
 denly wrinkled and old. There was a dumb, 
 half-articulate cry in the air rather a confusion 
 of many sounds, as of the booming of distant 
 guns, the clangor of a bell, the trampling of 
 many waves, the creaking of timbers and 
 soughing of leaves, that sank and fell ere you 
 could yet distinguish them. And then it came 
 on to blow. For two hours it blew strongly. 
 At the time the sun should have set the wind 
 had increased, and in fifteen minutes darkness 
 shut down ; even the white sands lost their out 
 lines, and sea, and shore, and sky were within 
 the grip of a relentless and aggressive hand. 
 
 Within his cabin, by the leaping light of his 
 gusty fire, North sat alone. His first' curiosity 
 passed, the turmoil without no longer carried 
 his thought beyond its one converging centre. 
 She had come to him on the wings of the 
 storm, even as she had been borne to him on 
 the summer fog cloud. Now and then the 
 wind shook the cabin, but he heeded it not. 
 He had no fears for its safety ; it presented its 
 low gable to the full fury of the wind that year 
 by year had piled, and even now was piling, 
 
The Man -on the Beach. 35 
 
 protecting buttresses of sand against it. With 
 each succeeding gust it seemed to nestle more 
 closely to its foundations, in the whirl of flying 
 sand that rattled against its roof and windows. 
 It was nearly midnight when a sudden thought 
 brought him to his feet. What if she were ex 
 posed to the fury of such a night as this ? 
 W'hat could he do to help her ? Perhaps, even 
 
 now, as he sat there idle, she Hark ! was 
 
 not that a gun No ? Yes, surely. 
 
 He hurriedly unbolted the door, but the 
 strength of the wind and the impact of drift 
 ing sand resisted his efforts. With a new and 
 feverish force within him he forced it open wide 
 enough to permit his egress, when the wind 
 caught him as a feather, rolled him over and 
 over, and then, grappling him again, held him 
 down hard and fast against the drift. Un 
 harmed, but, unable to move, he lay there, hear 
 ing the multitudinous roar of the storm, but 
 unable to distinguish one familiar sound in the 
 savage medley. At last he managed to crawl 
 flat on his face to the cabin, and refastening the 
 door, threw himself upon his bed. 
 
 He was awakened from a fitful dream of his 
 
 D 2 
 
36 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 Cousin Maria, who with a supernatural strength 
 seemed to be holding the door against some un 
 seen, unknown power that moaned and strove 
 without, and threw itself in despairing force 
 against the cabin. He could see the lithe un 
 dulations of her form as she alternately yielded 
 to its power, and again drew the door against 
 it, coiling herself around the log-hewn doorpost 
 with a hideous snake-like suggestion. And 
 then a struggle and a heavy blow which shook 
 the very foundations of the structure awoke 
 him. He leaped to his feet, and into an inch of 
 water. By the flickering firelight he could see 
 it oozing and dripping from the crevices of the 
 logs and broadening into a pool by the chim 
 ney. A scrap of paper torn from an envelope 
 was floating idly on its current. Was it the 
 overflow of the backed-up waters of the river ? 
 He was not left long in doubt. Another blow 
 upon the gable of the house and a torrent of 
 spray leaped down the chimney, scattered the 
 embers far and wide, and left him in utter dark 
 ness. Some of the spray clung to his lips. It 
 was salt. The ocean had beaten down the river 
 bar and was upon him, 
 
The Man on the Beach. 37 
 
 Was there aught to fly to ? No ! The cabin 
 stood upon the highest point of the sand spit, 
 and the low swale on one side crossed by his 
 late visitors was a seething mass of breakers, 
 while the estuary behind him was now the 
 ocean itself. There was nothing to do but to 
 wait. 
 
 The very helplessness of his situation was, to 
 a man of his peculiar temperament, an element 
 of patient strength. The instinct of self-pre 
 servation was still strong in him, but he had no 
 fear of death, nor, indeed, any presentiment of 
 it ; yet if it came it was an easy solution of the 
 problem that had been troubling him, and it 
 wiped off the slate ! He thought of the sar 
 castic prediction of his cousin, and death in the 
 form that threatened him was the obliteration 
 of his home and even the ground upon which it 
 stood. There would be nothing to record no 
 stain could come upon the living. The instinct 
 that kept him true to Jier would tell her how he 
 died ; if it did not, it was equally well. And 
 with this simple fatalism his only belief, this 
 strange man groped his way to his bed, lay down, 
 and in a few moments was asleep. The storm 
 
$8 77/6' Man on the Beach. 
 
 still roared without. Once again the surges 
 leaped against the cabin, but it was evident 
 that the wind was abating with the tide. 
 
 When he awoke it was high noon, and the 
 sun was shining brightly. For some time he 
 lay in a delicious languor, doubting if he was 
 alive or dead, but feeling through every nerve 
 and fibre an exquisite sense of peace a rest he 
 had not known since his boyhood a relief he 
 scarcely knew from what. He felt that he was 
 smiling, and yet his pillow was wet with the 
 tears that glittered still on his lashes. The 
 sand still blocking up his doorway, he leapt 
 lightly from his window. A few clouds were 
 still sailing slowly in the heavens, the trailing 
 plumes of a great benediction that lay on sea 
 and shore. He scarcely recognized the familiar 
 landscape ; a new bar had been formed in the 
 river, and a narrow causeway of sand that 
 crossed the lagoon and marshes to the river 
 bank and the upland trail seemed to bring him 
 nearer to humanity again. He was conscious 
 of a fresh, childlike delight in all this, and 
 when, a moment later, he saw the old uprooted 
 tree, now apparently forever moored and im- 
 
The Man on the Beach. 39 
 
 bedded in the sand beside his cabin, he ran to 
 it with a sense of joy. 
 
 Its trailing roots were festooned with cling 
 ing sea weed and the long, snaky, undulating 
 stems of the sea turnip ; and fixed between two 
 crossing roots was a bamboo orange crate 
 almost intact. As he walked toward it he 
 heard a strange cry unlike anything the barren 
 sands had borne before. Thinking it might be 
 some strange sea bird caught in the meshes of 
 the sea weed, he ran to the crate and looked 
 within. It was half filled with sea moss and 
 feathery algae. The cry was repeated." He 
 brushed aside the weeds with his hands. It 
 was not a wounded sea bird, but a living human 
 child ! 
 
 As he lifted it from its damp enwrappings he 
 saw that it was an infant eight or nine months 
 old. How and when it had been brought there 
 or what force had guided that elfish cradle to 
 his very door he could not determine, but it 
 must have been left early, for it was quite warm 
 and its clothing almost dried by the blazing 
 morning sun. To wrap his coat about it, to 
 run to his cabin with it, to start out again with 
 
40 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 the appalling conviction that nothing could be 
 done for it there, occupied some moments. His 
 nearest neighbor was Trinidad Joe, a "logger," 
 three miles up the river. He remembered to 
 have heard vaguely that he was a man of 
 family. To half strangle the child with a few 
 drops from his whisky flask, to extricate his 
 canoe from the marsh, and strike out into the 
 river with his waif, was at least to do some 
 thing. In half an hour he had reached the 
 straggling cabin and sheds of " Trinidad Joe," 
 and from the few scanty flowers that mingled 
 with the brush-wood fence, and a surplus of 
 linen fluttering on the line, he knew that his 
 surmise as to Trinidad Joe's domestic estab 
 lishment was correct. 
 
 The door at which he knocked opened upon 
 a neat, plainly-furnished room, and the figure of 
 a buxom woman of twenty-five. With an awk 
 wardness new to him, North stammered out the 
 circumstances of his finding the infant and the 
 object of his visit. Before he had finished the 
 woman had taken the child, by some feminine 
 trick, out of his hands 'ere he knew it and 
 when he paused, out of breath, burst into a fit 
 
TJie Man on the Beach- 41 
 
 of laughter. North tried to laugh, too, but 
 failed.' 
 
 When the woman had wiped the tears from a 
 pair of very frank blue eyes, and hidden two 
 rows of very strong white teeth again, she said : 
 " Look yar ! You're that looney sort o' chap 
 that lives alone over on the spit yonder ain't 
 ye?" 
 
 North hastened to admit all that the state 
 ment might imply. 
 
 " And so ye'v had a baby left ye to keep you 
 company ? Lordy ! " Here she looked as if 
 dangerously near a relapse, and then added, as 
 if in explanation of her conduct : 
 
 " When I saw ye paddlin' down here you 
 that ez shy as elk in summer I sez, ' He's 
 sick.' But a baby ? Oh, Lordy ! " 
 
 For a moment North almost hated her. A 
 woman who, in this pathetic, perhaps almost 
 tragic, picture saw only a ludicrous image, and 
 that image himself, was of another race than 
 that he had ever mingled with. Profoundly 
 indifferent as he had always been to the criti 
 cism of his equals in station, the mischievous 
 laughter of this illiterate woman jarred upon 
 
42 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 him worse than his cousin's sarcasm. It was 
 with a little dignity that he pointed out the 
 fact that at present the child needed nourish 
 ment. " It's very young," he added. " I'm 
 afraid it wants its natural nourishment." 
 
 " Whar is it to get it ?" asked the woman. 
 
 James North hesitated and looked around. 
 There should be a baby somewhere ! there 
 must be a baby somewhere ! " I thought that 
 you," he stammered, conscious of an awkward 
 
 coloring "I that is I " He stopped 
 
 short, for she was already cramming her apron 
 into her mouth, too late, however, to stop the 
 laugh that overflowed it. When she found her 
 breath again she said : 
 
 " Look yar ! I don't wonder they said you was 
 looney ! I'm Trinidad Joe's onmarried darter and 
 the only woman in this house. Any fool could 
 have told you that. Now, ef you can rig us up 
 a baby out o' them facts, I'd like to see it done." 
 
 Inwardly furious but outwardly polite, James 
 North begged her pardon, deplored his igno 
 rance, and, with a courtly bow, made a move 
 ment to take the child. But the woman as 
 quickly drew it away. 
 
The Man on the Beach. 43 
 
 " Not much," she said, -hastily. "What ! trust 
 that poor critter to you ? No, sir. Thar's more 
 ways of feeding a baby, young man, than you 
 knows on, with all your ' nat'ral nourishment.' 
 But it looks kinder logy and stupid." 
 
 North freezingly admitted that he had given 
 the infant whisky as a stimulant. 
 
 " You did ? Come, now that ain't so looney 
 after all. Well, I'll take the baby, and when 
 Dad comes home we'll see what can be done." 
 
 North hesitated. His dislike of the woman 
 was intense, and yet he knew no one else, and 
 the baby needed instant care. Besides, he 
 began to see the ludicrousness of his making a 
 first call on his neighbors with a foundling to 
 dispose of. She saw his hesitation, and said : 
 
 "Ye don't know me, in course. Well, I'm 
 Bessie Robinson. Trinidad Joe Robinson's 
 daughter. I reckon Dad will give me a charac 
 ter if you want references, or any of the boys 
 on the river." 
 
 " I'm only thinking of the trouble I'm giving 
 you, Miss Robinson, I assure you. Any expense 
 
 you may incur " 
 
 " Young man," said Bessie Robinson, turning 
 
44 The Man on the Beach, 
 
 sharply on her heel, and facing him with her 
 black brows a little contracted, " if it comes to 
 expenses, I reckon I'll pay you for that baby, or 
 not take it at all. But I don't know you well 
 enough to quarrel with you on sight. So leave 
 the child to me, and, if you choose, paddle down 
 here to-morrow, after sun up the ride will do 
 you good and see it, and Dad thrown in. So 
 long ! " and with one powerful but well-shaped 
 arm thrown around the child, and the other 
 crooked at the dimpled elbow a little aggres 
 sively, she swept by James North and entered a 
 bedroom, closing the door behind her. 
 
 When Mr. James North reached his cabin it 
 was dark. As he rebuilt his fire, and tried to 
 rearrange the scattered and disordered furniture 
 and remove the debris of last night's storm, 
 he was conscious for the first time of feeling 
 lonely. He did not miss the child. Beyond the 
 instincts of humanity and duty he had really no 
 interest in its welfare or future. He was rather 
 glad to get rid of it he would have preferred 
 to some one else, and yet she looked as if she 
 were competent. And then came the reflection 
 that since the morning he had not once thought 
 
TJie Man on the Beach. 45 
 
 of the woman he loved. The like had never 
 occurred in his twelvemonth solitude. So he 
 set to work, thinking of her, and of his sorrows, 
 until the word " looney," in connection with 
 his suffering, flashed across his memory. 
 " Looney ! " It was not a nice word. It sug 
 gested something less than insanity ; some 
 thing that might happen to a common, unintel- 
 lectual sort of person. He remembered the 
 loon an ungainly feathered neighbor who was 
 popularly supposed to have lent his name to 
 the adjective. Could it be possible that people 
 looked upon him as one too hopelessly and un 
 interestingly afflicted for sympathy or com 
 panionship, too unimportant and common for 
 even ridicule or was this but the coarse inter 
 pretation of that vulgar girl ? 
 
 Nevertheless the next morning after "sun up " 
 James North was at Trinidad Joe's cabin. That 
 worthy proprietor himself a long lank man, 
 with even more than the ordinary rural Western 
 characteristics of ill health, ill-feeding, and 
 melancholy met him on the bank, clothed in a 
 manner and costume that was a singular com 
 bination of the frontiersman and sailor. When 
 
46 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 North had again related the story of his finding 
 the child, Trinidad Joe pondered. 
 
 " It mout hev been stowed away in one of 
 them crates for safe keeping," he said musingly, 
 " and washed off the deck of one o' them Tahiti 
 brigs goin' down fer oranges. Leastways, it 
 never got thar from these parts." 
 
 " But it's a miracle its life was saved at all. 
 It must have been some hours in the water." 
 
 " Them brigs lays their course well in shore, 
 and it was just mebbe a toss up if the vessel 
 clawed off the reef at all ! And ez to the child 
 keepin' up, why, dog my skin ! that's just the 
 contrariness o' things," continued Joe, in sen 
 tentious cynicism. " Ef an able seaman had 
 fallen from the yardarm that night he'd been 
 sunk in sight o' the ship, and thet baby ez can't 
 swim a stroke sails ashore, sound asleep, with 
 the waves for a baby jumper." 
 
 North, who was half relieved, yet half awk 
 wardly disappointed at not seeing Bessy, ven 
 tured to ask how the child was doing. 
 
 " She'll do all right now," said a frank voice 
 above, and, looking up, North discerned the 
 round arms, blue eyes, and white teeth of the 
 
The Man on the Beach. 47 
 
 daughter at the window. "She's ail hunky, 
 and has an appetite ef she hezn't got her 
 ' natural nourishment/ Come, dad! heave ahead, 
 and tell the stranger what you and me allow 
 we'll do and don't stand there swappin' lies 
 with him." 
 
 " Weel," said Trinidad Joe, dejectedly, "Bess 
 allows she can rare that baby and do justice to 
 it. And I don't say though I'm her father 
 that she can't. But when Bess want's anything 
 she wants it all, clean down, no half-ways, nor 
 leavins for her." 
 
 " That's me ! go on, dad you're chippin' in 
 the same notch every time," said Miss Robin 
 son, with cheerful directness. 
 
 " Well, we agree to put the job up this way. 
 We'll take the child and you'll give us a paper 
 or writing makin' over all your right and title. 
 How's that ? " 
 
 Without knowing exactly why he did, Mr. 
 James objected decidedly. 
 
 " Do you think we won't take good care of 
 it ? " asked Miss Bessie, sharply. 
 
 " That is not the question," said North a little 
 hotly. " In the first place, the child is not mine 
 
48 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 to give. It has fallen into my hands as a trust 
 the first hands that received it from its parents. 
 I do not think it right to allow any other hands 
 to come between their hands and mine." 
 
 Miss Bessie left the window. In another mo 
 ment she appeared from the house, and, walking 
 directly toward North, held out a somewhat 
 substantial hand. " Good," she said, as she 
 gave his fingers an honest squeeze. " You ain't 
 so looney after all. Dad, he's right ! He shan't 
 gin it up but we'll go halves in it, he and me. 
 He'll be father and I'll be mother 'till death do 
 us part, or the reg'lar family turns up. Well 
 what do you say ? " 
 
 More pleased than he dared confess to himselt 
 with the praise of this common girl, Mr. James 
 North assented. Then would he see the baby ? 
 He would, and " Trinidad Joe " having already 
 seen the baby, and talked of the baby, and felt 
 the baby, and indeed had the baby offered to 
 him in every way during the past night, con 
 cluded to give some of his valuable time to 
 logging, and left them together. 
 
 Mr. North was obliged to admit that the baby 
 was thriving. He moreover listened with polite 
 
The Man eu the BcacJt. 49 
 
 interest to the statement that the baby's eyes 
 were hazel, like his own, that it had five teeth, 
 that she was, for a girl of that probable age, 
 a robust child, and yet Mr, North lingered. 
 Finally, with his hand on the door lock, he 
 turned to Bessie and said : 
 
 " May I ask you an odd question, Miss Rob 
 inson ? " 
 
 " Go on," 
 
 " Why did you think I was' looney ? ' " 
 
 The frank Miss Robinson bent her head over 
 the baby. 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Yes, why ? " 
 
 " Because you were looney." 
 
 " Oh." 
 
 Yes 
 
 " You'll get over it." 
 
 And under the shallow pretext of getting the 
 baby's food, she retired to the kitchen, where 
 Mr. North had the supreme satisfaction of see 
 ing her, as he passed the window, sitting on a 
 chair with her apron over her head, shaking 
 with laughter. 
 
 E 
 
50 77*6* Man- on the Beach. 
 
 For the next two or three days he did not 
 visit the Robinsons, but gave himself up to past 
 memories. On the third day he had it must 
 be confessed not without some effort brought 
 himself into that condition of patient sorrow 
 that had been his habit. The episode of the 
 storm and the finding of the baby began to 
 fade, as had faded the visit of his relatives. 
 It had been a dull, wet day, and he was sitting 
 by his fire, when there came a tap at his door. 
 " Flora," by which juvenescent name his aged 
 Indian handmaid was known, usually announced 
 her presence with an imitation of a curlew's 
 cry ; it could not be her. He fancied he 
 heard the trailing of a woman's dress against 
 the boards, and started to his feet, deathly 
 pale, with a name upon his lips. But the 
 door was impatiently thrown open, and showed 
 Bessie Robinson ! And the baby ! 
 
 With a feeling of relief he could not under 
 stand, he offered her a seat. She turned her 
 frank eyes on him curiously. 
 
 " You look skeert ! " 
 
 " I was startled. You know I see nobody 
 here!" 
 
The Man on the Beach. 51 
 
 " Thet's so. But look yar, do you ever use a 
 doctor ? " 
 
 Not clearly understanding her, he in turn 
 asked, "Why?" 
 
 "'Cause you must rise up and get one now 
 thet's why. This yer baby of ours is sick. We 
 don't 'use a doctor at our house, we don't be- 
 leeve in 'em, hain't no call for 'em but this 
 yer baby's parents mebbee did. So rise up 
 out o' that cheer, and get one." 
 
 James North looked at Miss Robinson and 
 rose, albeit a little in doubt and hesitating. 
 
 Miss Robinson saw it. "I shouldn't hev 
 troubled ye, nor ridden three miles to do it, if 
 ther hed been any one else to send. But dad's 
 over at Eureka buying logs, and I'm alone. 
 Hello wher yer goin' ?" 
 
 North had seized his hat and opened the door. 
 
 " For a doctor," he replied amazediy. 
 
 "Did ye kalkilate to walk six miles and 
 back?" 
 
 " Certainly I have no horse." 
 
 " But / have, and you'll find her tethered out 
 side. She ain't much to look at, but when you 
 strike the trail she'll go." 
 
 E 2 
 
52 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 " But you how will you return ? " 
 
 "Well," said Miss Robinson, drawing her 
 chair to the fire, taking off her hat and shawl, 
 and warming her knees by the blaze, " I didn't 
 reckon to return. You'll find me here when 
 you come back with the doctor. Go ! Ske 
 daddle quick." 
 
 She did not have to repeat the command, 
 In another instant James North was in Miss 
 Bessie's seat a man's dragoon saddle and 
 pounding away through the sand. Two facts 
 were in his mind : one was that he, the 
 "looney," was about to open communication 
 with the wisdom and contemporary criticism of 
 the settlement by going for a doctor to admin 
 ister to a sick and anonymous infant in his 
 possession ; the other was that his solitary 
 house was in the hands of a self-invited, large- 
 limbed, illiterate, but rather comely young 
 woman. These facts he could not gallop away 
 from, but to his credit be it recorded that he 
 fulfilled his mission zealously, if not coherently, 
 to the Doctor, who during the rapid ride 
 gathered the idea that North had rescued a 
 young married woman from drowning, who had 
 since given birth to a child. 
 
The Man on the Beach. 53 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HTHE few words that set the Doctor right 
 when he arrived at the cabin, might in any 
 other community have required further explana 
 tion, but Dr. Duchesne, an old army surgeon, 
 was prepared for everything and indifferent to 
 all. "The infant," he said, "was threatened 
 with inflammation of the lungs, at present there 
 was no danger, but the greatest care and caution 
 must be exercised. Particularly exposure 
 should be avoided." "That settles the whole 
 matter then," said Bessie potentially. Both 
 gentlemen looked their surprise. " It means," 
 she condescended to further explain, " that you 
 must ride that filly home, wait for the old man 
 to come to-morrow, and then ride back here 
 with some of my duds, for thar's no 'da'das' or 
 picknicking for that baby until she's better. 
 And I reckon to stay with her ontil she is." 
 
 " She certainly is unable to bear any exposure 
 at present," said the Doctor, with an amused 
 
54 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 side glance at North's perplexed face. "Miss 
 Robinson is right. I'll ride with you over the 
 sands as far as the trail." 
 
 "I'm afraid/' said North, feeling it incum 
 bent upon him to say something, "that you'll 
 hardly find it as comfortable here as " 
 
 " I reckon not," she said simply, "but I didn't 
 expect much." 
 
 North turned a little wearily away. " Good 
 night," she said suddenly, extending her hand, 
 with a gentler smile of lip and eye than he had 
 ever before noticed, " Good night take good 
 care of Dad." 
 
 The Doctor and North rode together some 
 moments in silence. North had another fact 
 presented to him, i.e., that he was going a visit 
 ing, and that he had virtually abandoned his 
 former life ; also that it would be profanation 
 to think of his sacred woe in the house of a 
 stranger. 
 
 "I dare say," said the Doctor, suddenly, "you 
 are not familiar with the type of woman Miss 
 Bessie presents so perfectly. Your life has 
 been spent among the conventional class." 
 
 North froze instantly at what seemed to be a 
 
TJie Man on the Beach. 55 
 
 probing of his secret. Disregarding the last 
 suggestion, he made answer simply and truth 
 fully that he had never met any Western girl 
 like Bessie. 
 
 "That's, your bad luck," said the Doctor. 
 "You think her coarse and illiterate ?" 
 
 Mr. North had been so much struck with her 
 kindness that really he had not thought of it. 
 
 "That's not so," said the Doctor, curtly, 
 " although even if you told her so she would 
 not think any the less of you nor of herself. 
 If she spoke rustic Greek instead of bad English, 
 and wore a cestus in place of an ill-fitting corset, 
 you'd swear she was a Goddess. There's your 
 trail. Good night." 
 
 James North did not sleep well that night. 
 He had taken Miss Bessie's bedroom, at her 
 suggestion, there being but two, and " Dad 
 never using sheets and not bein' keerful in his 
 habits." It was neat but that was all. The 
 scant ornamentation was atrocious ; two or 
 three highly-colored prints, a shell workbox, a 
 ghastly winter bouquet of skeleton leaves and 
 mosses, a star fish, and two china vases hideous 
 enough to have been worshipped as Buddhist 
 
56 The Man on the Be.u/i. 
 
 idols, exhibited the gentle recreation of the fair 
 occupant, and the possible future education of 
 the child. In the morning he was met by Joe, 
 who received the message of his daughter with 
 his usual dejection, and suggested that North 
 stay with him until the child was better. That 
 event was still remote ; North found, on his re 
 turn to his cabin, that the child had been worse ; 
 but he did not know, until Miss Bessie dropped 
 a casual remark, that she had not closed her 
 own eyes that night. It was a week before he 
 regained his own quarters, but an active week 
 indeed, on the whole, a rather pleasant week. 
 For there was a delicate flattery in being domi 
 neered by a wholesome and handsome woman, 
 and Mr. James North had by this time made up 
 his mind that she was both. Once or twice he 
 found himself contemplating her splendid figure 
 with a recollection of the Doctor's compliment, 
 and later, emulating her own frankness, told her 
 of it. 
 
 "And what did you say ?" she asked. 
 
 " O, I laughed and said nothing." 
 
 And so did she. 
 
 A month after this interchange of frankness, 
 
The Man on the Beach. 57 
 
 she asked him if he could spend the next 
 evening at her house. " You see," she said, 
 " thar's to be a dance down at the Hall at 
 Eureka, and I haven't kicked a fut since last 
 spring. Hank Fisher's comin' up to take me 
 over, and I'm goin' to let the shanty slide for 
 the night." 
 
 " But what's to become of the baby?" asked 
 North, a little testily. 
 
 " Well," said Miss Robinson, facing him some 
 what aggressively, " I reckon it won't hurt ye 
 to take care of it for a night. Dad can't and 
 if he could, he don't know how. Liked to hev 
 pizened me after Mar died. No, young man, I 
 don't propose to ask Hank Fisher to tote thet 
 child over to Eureka and back, and spile his 
 fun." 
 
 " Then I suppose I must make way for Mr. 
 Hank Hank Fisher ?" said North, with 'the 
 least tinge of sarcasm in his speech. 
 
 " Of course. You've got nothing else to do, 
 you know." 
 
 North would have given worlds to have 
 pleaded a previous engagement on business 
 of importance but he knew that Bessie spoke 
 
The Man on the Beach. 
 
 truly. He had nothing to do. "And Fisher 
 has, I suppose ? " he asked. 
 
 " Of course to look after me /" 
 
 A more unpleasant evening James North had 
 not spent since the first day of his solitude. 
 He almost began to hate the unconscious cause 
 of his absurd position as he paced up and down 
 the floor with it. "Was there ever such 
 egregious folly," he began, but remembering he 
 was quoting Maria North's favorite resumt of 
 his own conduct, he stopped. The child cried, 
 missing, no doubt, the full rounded curves 
 and plump arm of its nurse. North danced it 
 violently, with an inward accompaniment that 
 was not musical, and thought of the other 
 dancers. " Doubtless," he mused, ft she has told 
 this beau of hers that she has left the baby with 
 the ' looney ' man on the beach. Perhaps I 
 may be offered a permanent engagement as a 
 harmless simpleton accustomed to the care of 
 children. Mothers may cry for me. The 
 Doctor is at Eureka. Of course, he will be 
 there to see his untranslated Goddess, and con 
 dole with her over the imbecility of the Man on 
 the Beach. Once he carelessly asked Joe who 
 the company were." 
 
The Man on the Beach. 59 
 
 "Well," said Joe, mournfully, "thar's Widder 
 Higsby, and darter, the four Stubbs gals in 
 course Polly Doble will be on hand with that 
 feller that's clerking over at the Head for Jones, 
 and Jones's wife. Then thar's French Pete, and 
 Whiskey Ben, and that chap that shot Archer 
 I disremember his name, and the barber 
 what's that little mulatto's name that 'ar 
 Kanaka ? I swow ! " continued Joe, drearily, 
 " I'll be forgettin' my own next and " 
 
 " That will do," interrupted North, only half 
 concealing his disgust "as he rose and carried 
 the baby to the other room, beyond the. reach 
 of names that might shock its ladylike ears. 
 The next morning he met the from-dance- 
 returning Bessie abstractedly, and soon took 
 his leave, full of a disloyal plan, conceived in 
 the sleeplessness of her own bedchamber. He 
 was satisfied that he owed a duty to its unknown 
 parents to remove the child from the degrading 
 influences of the barber Kanaka, and Hank 
 Fisher especially, and he resolved to write to 
 his relatives, stating the case, asking a home for 
 the waif and assistance to find its parents. 
 He addressed this letter to his cousin Maria, 
 
60 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 partly in consideration of the dramatic farewell 
 of that young lady, and its possible influence 
 in softening her stony heart toward his protege. 
 He then quietly settled back to his old solitary 
 habits, and for a week left the Robinsons un- 
 visited. The result was a morning call by 
 " Trinidad Joe " on the hermit. " It's a whim 
 o' my gal's, Mr. North," he said, dejectedly, " and 
 ez I told you before and warned ye, when that 
 gal hez an idee, fower yoke of oxen and 
 seving men can't drag it outer her. She's 
 got a idee o' larnin' never hevin' hed much 
 schooling and we ony takin' the papers, per- 
 miskiss like and she says you can teach her 
 not hevin' anything else to do. Do ye folly 
 me ? " 
 
 "Yes," said North, "certainly." 
 
 " Well, she allows ez mebbee you're proud, 
 and didn't like her takin' care of the baby for 
 nowt ; and she reckons that ef you'll gin her 
 some book larnin' and get her to sling some 
 fancy talk in fashn'ble style why, she'll call it 
 squar." 
 
 "You can tell her," said North, very honestly, 
 " that I shall be only too glad to help her in 
 
The Man on the Beach. 6 1 
 
 any way, without ever hoping to cancel my debt 
 of obligation to her," 
 
 " Then it's a go ? " said the mystified Joe, 
 with a desperate attempt to convey the forego 
 ing statement into his own intellect in three 
 Saxon words. 
 
 " It's a go," replied North, cheerfully. 
 
 And he felt relieved. For he was not quite 
 satisfied with his own want of frankness to her. 
 But here was a way to pay off the debt he owed 
 her, and yet retain his own dignity. And now 
 he could tell her what he had done, and he 
 trusted to the ambitious instinct that prompted 
 her to seek a better education to explain his 
 reasons for it. 
 
 He saw her that evening and confessed all to 
 her frankly. She kept her head averted, but 
 when she turned her blue eyes to him they were 
 wet with honest tears. North had a man's 
 horror of a ready feminine lachrymal gland ; 
 but it was not like Bessie to cry, and it meant 
 something ; and then shedid it in a large god 
 dess-like way, without sniffling, or choking, or 
 getting her nose red, but rather with a gentle 
 deliquescence, a harmonious melting, so that 
 
62 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 he was fain to comfort her with nearer contact, 
 gentleness in his own sad eyes, and a pressure 
 of her large hand. 
 
 " It's all right, I s'pose," she said, sadly ; " but 
 I didn't reckon on yer havin' any relations, but 
 thought you were alone, like me." 
 
 James North, thinking of Hank Fisher and 
 the " Mullater," could not help intimating that 
 his relations were very wealthy and fashionable 
 people, and had visited him last summer. A 
 recollection of the manner in which they had 
 so visited him, and his own reception of them, 
 prevented his saying more. But Miss Bessie 
 could not forego a certain feminine curiosity, 
 and asked : 
 
 "Did they come with Sam Baker's team ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Last July ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And Sam drove the horses here for a 
 bite ? " 
 
 " I believe so." 
 
 " And them's your relations ? " 
 
 " They are." 
 
 Miss Robinson reached over the cradle and 
 
The Man on the Beach. 63 
 
 enfolded the sleeping infant in her powerful 
 arms. Then she lifted her eyes, wrathful 
 through her still glittering tears, and said, 
 slowly : " They don't have this child 
 then ! " 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 " Oh, why ? / saw them ! That's why, and 
 enough ! You can't play any such gay and 
 festive skeletons on this poor baby for flesh and 
 blood parents. No, sir ! " 
 
 "I think you judge them hastily, Miss 
 Bessie," said North, secretly amused ; "my aunt 
 may not, at first, favorably impress strangers ; 
 yet she has many friends. But, surely, you do 
 not object to my cousin Maria, the young lady ? " 
 
 " What ! that dried cuttle-fish, with nothing 
 livin' about her but her eyes ? James North, 
 ye may be a fool like the old woman perhaps 
 it's in the family but ye ain't a devil, like that 
 gal ! That ends it." 
 
 And it did. North despatched a second letter 
 to Maria saying that he had already made other 
 arrangements for the baby. Pleased with her 
 easy victory, Miss Bessie became more than 
 usually gracious, and the next day bowed her 
 
64 The Ulan on the Beach. 
 
 shapely neck meekly to the yoke of her teacher, 
 and became a docile pupil, James North could 
 not have helped to notice her ready intel 
 ligence, even had he been less prejudged in her 
 favor, than he was fast becoming now. If he 
 had found it pleasant before to be admonished 
 by her, there was a still more delicious flattery 
 in her perfect trust in his omniscient skill, as a 
 pilot over this unknown sea. There was a 
 certain enjoyment in guiding her hand over the 
 writing book, that I fear he could not have been 
 taught by an intellect less graciously sustained 
 by its physical nature. The weeks flew quickly 
 by on gossamer wings, and when she placed a 
 bunch of larkspurs and poppies in his hand one 
 morning, he knew for the first time that it was 
 spring. 
 
 I cannot say that there was more to record 
 of Miss Bessie's education than this. Once 
 North, half jestingly, remarked that he had 
 never yet seen her admirer, Mr. Hank Fisher. 
 Miss Bessie (coloring but cool) "You never 
 will!" North (white but hot) "Why?" Miss 
 Bessie (faintly) " I'd rather not." North (reso 
 lutely; " I insist." Bessie (yielding) "As my 
 
The Man on the Beach. 65 
 
 teacher ?" North (hesitatingly, at the limitation 
 of the epithet) "Y-e-e-s!" Bessie " And 
 you'll promise never to speak of it again?" 
 North " Never." Bessie (slowly) " Well, he 
 said I did an awful thing to go over to your 
 cabin and stay." North (in the genuine sim 
 plicity of a refined nature) " But why ?" Miss 
 Bessie (half piqued, but absolutely admiring 
 that nature) "Quit ! and keep your promise !" 
 
 They were so happy in these new relations 
 that it occurred to Miss Bessie one day to take 
 James North to task for obliging her to ask to 
 be his pupil. " You know how ignorant'I was," 
 she added, and Mr. North retorted by relating 
 to her the Doctor's criticism on her indepen 
 dence. "To tell you the truth," he added, 
 " I'm afraid you would not take it so kindly as 
 he said." 
 
 " That is, you thought me as vain as yourself ! 
 It seems to me you and the Doctor had a great 
 deal to say to each other." 
 
 " On the contrary," laughed North, " that was 
 all we said." 
 
 " And you didn't make fun of me ?" 
 
 Perhaps it was not necessary for North to 
 
 F 
 
66 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 take her hand to emphasize his denial, but he 
 did. 
 
 Miss Bessie, being still reminiscent, perhaps 
 did not notice it. " If it hadn't been for that ar 
 I mean that thur no, that baby I wouldn't 
 have known you !" she said, dreamily. 
 
 "No," returned North, mischievously, ''but 
 you still would have known Hank Fisher." 
 
 No woman is perfect. Miss Bessie looked at 
 him with a sudden her first and last flash 
 of coquetry. Then stooped and kissed the 
 baby. 
 
 James North was a simple gentleman, but not 
 altogether a fool. He returned the kiss, but 
 not vicariously. 
 
 There was a footstep on the porch. These 
 two turned the hues of a dying dolphin, and 
 then laughed. It was Joe. He held a news 
 paper in his hand. " I reckon ye woz right, 
 Mr. North, about my takin' these yar papers 
 reg'lar. For I allow here's suthin' that may 
 clar up the mystery o' that baby's parents." 
 With the hesitation of a slowly grappling in 
 tellect, Joe sat down on the table and read from 
 the San Francisco Herald as follows : " It is 
 
The Man on the Beach. 67 
 
 now ascertained beyond doubt that the wreck 
 reported by the ^Eolus was the American brig 
 Pomare, bound hence to Tahiti. The worst 
 surmises are found correct. The body of the 
 woman has been since identified as that of the 
 beau-ti-ful daughter of of of Terp Terp 
 Terpish nell. I swow that name just tackles 
 me." 
 
 " Gin it to me, Dad," said Bessie pertly. "You 
 never had any education, anyway. Hear your 
 accomplished daughter." With a mock bow to 
 the new schoolmaster, and a capital burlesque 
 of a confident school girl, she strode "to the 
 middle of the room, the paper held and folded 
 bookwise in her hands. " Ahem ! Where did 
 you leave off? O, ' the beautiful daughter of 
 Terpsichore whose name was prom-i-nently 
 connected with a mysterious social scandal of 
 last year the gifted, but unfortunate Grace 
 
 Chatterton ' No don't stop me there's 
 
 some more ! ' The body of her child, a lovely 
 infant of six months, has not been recovered, 
 and it is supposed was washed overboard/ 
 There may be there's the child, Mr. North. 
 Why, Dad ! Look, O my God ! He's falling. 
 
 F 2 
 
68 The Man on the Beach. 
 
 Mr. North ! James ! Speak to me ; speak, my 
 darling." 
 
 Her strong arm had anticipated her father's. 
 She caught him, lifted him to the bed, on which 
 he lay, to all sense dead, for twenty- four hours. 
 Then brain fever supervened, and delirium, and 
 Dr. Duchesne telegraphed for his friends, but at 
 the end of a week and the opening of a summer 
 day the storm passed, as the other storm had 
 passed, and he awoke, languid, but at peace. 
 Bessie was at his side he was glad to see 
 alone. " Bessie, dear," he said feebly, " when I 
 am stronger I have something to tell you." 
 
 " I knew it all, Jem," she said with a trembling 
 lip ; " I heard it all no, not from them, but 
 from your own lips in your delirium. I'm glad 
 it came from you even then." 
 
 "Do you forgive me, Bessie ?" 
 
 She pressed her lips to his forehead and said 
 hastily, and then falteringly, as if afraid of her 
 impulse : 
 
 "Yes. Yes." 
 
 " And you will still be mother to the child ! " 
 
 "Her child?" 
 
 " No, dear, not hers, but mine!" 
 
The Man on the Beach. 69 
 
 She started, cried a little, and then putting 
 her arms around him, said : " Yes." 
 
 And as there was but one way of fulfilling 
 that sacred promise, they were married in the 
 autumn. 
 
THE HOODLUM BAND. 
 
THE HOODLUM BAND; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE BOY CHIEF, THE INFANT POLITICIAN, 
 AND THE PIRATE PRODIGY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TT was a quiet New England village. No 
 where in the valley of the Connecticut the 
 antumn sun shone upon a more peaceful, pas 
 toral, manufacturing community. The wooden 
 nutmegs were slowly ripening on the trees, and 
 the white-pine hams for Western consumption 
 were gradually rounding into form under the 
 deft manipulation of the hardy American 
 artisan. The honest Connecticut farmer was 
 quietly gathering from his threshing-floor the 
 shoe-pegs, which, when intermixed with a fair 
 proportion of oats, offered a pleasing substitute 
 
74 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 for fodder to the effete civilisations of Europe. 
 An almost Sabbath-like stillness prevailed. 
 Doemville was only seven miles from Hartford, 
 and the surr'ounding landscape smiled with the 
 conviction of being fully insured. 
 
 Few would have thought that this peaceful 
 village was the home of the three young heroes 
 whose exploits would hereafter but we anti 
 cipate. 
 
 Doemville Academy was the principal seat of 
 learning in the county. Under the grave and 
 gentle administration of the venerable Doctor 
 Context, it had attained just popularity. Yet 
 the increasing infirmities of age obliged the 
 doctor to relinquish much of his trust to his 
 assistants, who, it is needless to say, abused his 
 confidence. Before long their brutal tyranny 
 and deep laid malevolence became apparent. 
 Boys were absolutely forced to study their 
 lessons. The sickening fact will hardly be 
 believed, but during school-hours they were 
 obliged to remain in their seats with the appear 
 ance at least of discipline. It is stated by good 
 authority that the rolling of croquet-balls across 
 the floor during recitation was objected to, 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 75 
 
 under the fiendish excuse of its interfering with 
 their studies. The breaking of windows by 
 base-balls, and the beating of small scholars with 
 bats, was declared against. At last, bloated 
 and arrogant with success, the underteachers 
 threw aside all disguise, and revealed them 
 selves in their true colours. A cigar was actu 
 ally taken out of a day-scholar's mouth during 
 prayers ! A flask of whisky was dragged from 
 another's desk, and then thrown out of the 
 window. And finally, Profanity, Hazing, Theft, 
 and Lying were almost discouraged. 
 
 Could the youth of America, conscious of 
 their power, and a literature of their own, 
 tamely submit to this tyranny ? Never ! We 
 repeat it firmly. Never ! We repeat it to 
 parents and guardians. Never ! But the fiend 
 ish tutors, chuckling in their glee, little knew 
 what was passing through the cold, haughty 
 intellect of Charles Francis Adams Golightly, 
 aged ten ; what curled the lip of Benjamin 
 Franklin Jenkins, aged seven ; or what shone in 
 the bold, blue eyes of Bromley Chitterlings, 
 aged six and a half, as they sat in the corner of 
 the playground at recess. Their only other 
 
76 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 companion and confidant was the negro porter 
 and janitor of the school, known as " Pirate 
 Jim." 
 
 Fitly, indeed, was he named, as the secrets of 
 his early wild career confessed freely to his 
 noble young friends plainly showed. A slaver 
 at the age of seventeen, the ringleader of a 
 mutiny on the African coast at the age of 
 twenty, a privateersman during the last war 
 with England, the commander of a fire-ship and 
 its sole survivor at twenty five, with a wild, inter 
 mediate career of unmixed piracy, until the 
 Rebellion called him to Civil Service again as 
 a blockade runner, and peace and a desire for 
 rural repose led him to seek the janitorship of 
 the Doemville Academy, where no questions 
 were asked and references not exchanged he 
 was, indeed, a fit mentor for our daring youth. 
 Although a man whose days had exceeded the 
 usual space alloted to humanity, the various 
 episodes of his career footing his age up to 
 nearly one hundred and fifty-nine years, he 
 scarcely looked it, and was still hale and vigor 
 ous. 
 
 "Yes," continued Pirate Jim critically; "I don't 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 77 
 
 think he was any bigger nor you, Master Chit 
 terlings, if as big, when he stood on the fork'stle 
 of my ship and shot the captain o' that East 
 Injyman dead. We used to call him little 
 Weevils, he was so young-like. But, bless your 
 hearts, boys ! he wa'n't anything to Little Sammy 
 Barlow, ez once crep' up inter the captain's state 
 room on a Rooshin frigate, stabbed him to the 
 heart with a jack-knife, then put on the captain's 
 uniform and his cocked hat, took command of 
 the ship, and fout her hisself." 
 
 "Wasn't the captain's clothes big for him?" 
 asked B. Franklin Jenkins anxiously. 
 
 The janitor eyed young Jenkins with pained 
 dignity. 
 
 " Didn't I say the Rooshin captain was a 
 small, a very small, man ? Rooshins is small, 
 likewise Greeks." 
 
 A noble enthusiasm beamed in the faces of 
 the youthful heroes. 
 
 " Was Barlow as large as me ? " asked C. F. 
 Adams Golightly, lifting his curls from his 
 Jove-like brow. 
 
 " Yes ; but, then, he hed hed, so to speak, 
 experiences. It was allowed that he had 
 
7 8 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 pizened his schoolmaster afore he went to sea. 
 But it's dry talking, boys." 
 
 Golightly drew a flask from his jacket and 
 handed it to the janitor. It was his father's 
 best brandy. The heart of the honest old sea 
 man was touched. 
 
 " Bless ye, my own pirate boy ! " he said, in a 
 voice suffocating with emotion. 
 
 "I've got some tabacco," said the youthful 
 Jenkins, "but it's fine cut; I use only that 
 now." 
 
 " I kin buy some plug at the corner 
 grocery," said Pirate Jim, " only I left my port- 
 money at home." 
 
 " Take this watch," said young Golightly ; 
 "'tis my father's. Since he became a tyrant 
 and usurper, and forced me to join a corsair's 
 band, I've begun by dividing the property." 
 
 " This is idle trifling," said young Chitter 
 lings wildly. " Every moment is precious, Is 
 this an hour to give to wine and wassail ? Ha, 
 we want action action ! We must strike the 
 blow for freedom to-night ay, this very night. 
 The scow is already anchored in the mill-dam 
 freighted with provisions for a three-months' 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 79 
 
 voyage. I have a black flag in my pocket. 
 Why, then, this cowardly delay ? " 
 
 The two elder youths turned with a slight 
 feeling of awe and shame to gaze on the glow 
 ing cheeks, and high, haughty crest of their 
 youngest comrade the bright, the beautiful 
 Bromley Chitterlings. Alas ! that very mo 
 ment of forgetfulness and mutual admiration 
 was fraught with danger. A thin, dyspeptic, 
 half-starved tutor approached. 
 
 "It is time to resume your studies, young 
 gentlemen," he said, with fiendish politeness. 
 
 They were his last words on earth. 1 
 
 " Down Tyrant ! " screamed Chitterlings. 
 
 " Sic him I mean sic semper tyrannis ! " said 
 the classical Golightly. 
 
 A heavy blow on the head from a base-ball 
 bat, and the rapid projection of a base-ball 
 against his empty stomach, brought the tutor 
 a limp and lifeless mass to the ground. 
 Golightly shuddered. Let not my young 
 readers blame him too rashly. It was his first 
 homicide. 
 
 " Search his pockets," said the practical 
 Jenkins. 
 
8o The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 They did so, and found nothing but a Har 
 vard Triennial Catalogue. 
 
 " Let us fly," said Jenkins. 
 
 " Forward to the boats ! " cried the enthusias 
 tic Chitterlings. 
 
 But C. F. Adams Golightly stood gazing 
 thoughtfully at the prostrate tutor. 
 
 " This," he said calmly, " is the result of a 
 too free government and the ""common-school 
 system. What the country needs is reform. I 
 cannot go with you, boys." 
 
 " Traitor ! " screamed the others. 
 
 C. F. A. Golightly smiled sadly. 
 
 " You know me not. I shall not become a 
 pirate but a Congressman ! " 
 k Jenkins and Chitterlings turned pale. 
 
 " I have already organised two caucuses in a 
 base-ball club, and bribed the delegates of 
 another. Nay, turn not away. Let us be 
 friends, pursuing through various ways one 
 common end. Farewell ! " They shook hands. 
 
 " But where is Pirate Jim ? " asked Jenkins. 
 
 " He left us but for a moment to raise money 
 on the watch to purchase armament for the 
 scow. Farewell ! " 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 81 
 
 And so the gallant, youthful spirits parted, 
 bright with the sunrise of hope. 
 
 That night a conflagration raged in Doem- 
 ville. The Doemville Academy, mysteriously 
 fired, first fell a victim to the devouring element. 
 The candy shop and cigar store, both holding 
 heavy liabilities against the academy, quickly 
 followed. By the lurid gleams of the flames, a 
 long, low, sloop-rigged scow, with every mast 
 gone except one, slowly worked her way out of 
 the mill-dam towards the Sound. The next 
 day three boys were missing C. F. Adams 
 Golightly, B. F. Jenkins, and Bromley Chitter 
 lings. Had they perished in the flames ? Who 
 shall say ? Enough that never more under 
 these names did they again appear in the homes 
 of their ancestors. 
 
 Happy, indeed, would it have been for 
 Doemville had the mystery ended here. But 
 a darker interest and scandal rested upon the 
 peaceful village. During that awful night the 
 boarding-school of Madame Brimborion was 
 visited stealthily, and two of the fairest 
 heiresses of Connecticut daughters of the 
 president of a savings bank and insurance 
 
 G 
 
82 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 director were the next morning found to have 
 eloped. With them also disappeared the 
 entire contents of the Savings Bank, and on 
 the following day the Flamingo Fire Insurance 
 Company failed. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 T ET my young readers now sail with me to 
 warmer and more hospitable climes. Off 
 the coast of Patagonia a long, low, black 
 schooner proudly rides the seas, that break 
 softly upon the vine-clad shores of that luxuriant 
 land. Who is this that, wrapped in Persian 
 rugs, and dressed in the most expensive manner, 
 calmly reclines on the quarter-deck of the 
 schooner, toying lightly ever and anon with the 
 luscious fruits of the vicinity, held in baskets of 
 solid gold by Nubian slaves ? or at intervals, 
 with daring grace, guides an ebony velocipede 
 over the polished black walnut decks, and in 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 83 
 
 and out the intricacies of the rigging ? Who is 
 it ? well may be asked. What name is it that 
 blanches with terror the cheeks of the Patago- 
 nian navy ? Who but the Pirate Prodigy the 
 relentless Boy Scourer of Patagonian seas ? 
 Voyagers slowly drifting by the Silurian beach, 
 coasters along the Devonian shore, still shudder 
 at the name of Bromley Chitterlings the Boy 
 Avenger, late of Hartford, Connecticut. 
 
 It has been often asked by the idly curious, 
 Why, Avenger, and of what ? Let us not seek 
 to disclose the awful secret hidden under that 
 youthful jacket. Enough that there may' have 
 been that of bitterness in his past life that they 
 
 " Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave," 
 
 or " whose soul would heave above the sickening 
 wave," did not understand. Only one knew 
 him, perhaps too well a queen of the Amazons 
 taken prisoner off Terra del Fuego a week pre- 
 previous. She loved the Boy Avenger. But in 
 vain ; his youthful heart seemed obdurate. 
 
 " Hear me," at last, he said, when she had for 
 the seventh time wildly proffered her hand and 
 her kingdom in marriage, " and know once and 
 
 G 2 
 
84 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 for ever why I must decline your flattering pro 
 posal. I love another." 
 
 With a wild, despairing cry she leaped into 
 the sea, but was instantly rescued by the Pirate 
 Prodigy. Yet, even in that supreme moment, 
 such was his coolness, that on his way to the 
 surface he captured a mermaid, and, placing her 
 in charge of his steward, with directions to give 
 her a state-room, with hot and cold water, calmly 
 resumed his place by the Amazon's side. When 
 the cabin door closed on his faithful servant, 
 bringing champagne and ices to the interesting 
 stranger, Chitterlings resumed his narrative with 
 a choking voice : 
 
 "When I first fled from the roof of a tyran 
 nical parent, I loved the beautiful and accom 
 plished Eliza J. Sniffen. Her father was presi 
 dent of the Working-men's Savings' Bank, and 
 it was perfectly understood that in the course of 
 time the entire deposits would be his. But, 
 like a vain fool, I wished to anticipate the 
 future, and, in a wild moment, persuaded Miss 
 SnifTen to elope with me ; and, with the entire 
 cash assets of the bank, we fled together." He 
 paused, overcome with emotion. " But fate 
 
TJie Hoodlum Band. 85 
 
 decreed it otherwise. In my feverish haste, I 
 had forgotten to place among the stores of my 
 pirate craft that peculiar kind of chocolate 
 caromel to which Eliza Jane was most partial. 
 We were obliged to put into New Rochelle on 
 the second day out, to enable Miss Sniffen to 
 procure that delicacy at the nearest confec 
 tioner's, and match some zephyr worsteds at the 
 first fancy shop. Fatal mistake. She went 
 she never returned ! " In a moment he resumed, 
 in a choking voice, " After a week's weary wait 
 ing, I was obliged to put to sea again, bearing 
 a broken heart and the broken bank .of her 
 father. I have never seen her since." 
 
 " And you still love her ? ". asked the Amazon 
 queen, excitedly. 
 
 " Ay, for ever! " 
 
 " Noble youth. Here, take the reward of thy 
 fidelity, for know, Bromley Chitterlings, that I 
 am Eliza Jane. Wearied with waiting, I em 
 barked on a Peruvian Guano ship but it's a 
 long story, dear." 
 
 "And altogether too thin," said the Boy 
 Avenger, fiercely releasing himself from her 
 encircling arms. " Eliza Jane's age, a year ago, 
 
86 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 was only thirteen, and you are forty, if a 
 day." 
 
 "True," she returned sadly, but I have suf 
 fered much, and time passes rapidly, and I've 
 grown. You would scarcely believe that this is 
 my own hair." 
 
 " I know not," he replied, in gloomy abstrac 
 tion. 
 
 " Forgive my deceit," she returned. " If you 
 are affianced to another, let me at least be a 
 mother to you." 
 
 The Pirate Prodigy started, and tears came 
 to his eyes. The scene was affecting in the 
 extreme. Several of the oldest seamen men 
 who had gone through scenes of suffering with 
 tearless eyes and unblanched cheeks now re 
 tired to the spirit room to conceal their emo 
 tion. A few went into caucus in the forecastle, 
 and returned with the request that the Amazo 
 nian queen should hereafter be known as the 
 " Queen of the Pirates' Isle." 
 
 " Mother ! " gasped the Pirate Prodigy. 
 "My son ! " screamed the Amazonian queen. 
 They embraced. At the same moment a 
 loud flop was heard on the quarter-deck. It 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 87 
 
 was the forgotten mermaid, who, emerging from 
 her state-room, and ascending the companion- 
 way at that moment, had fainted at the spec 
 tacle. The Pirate Prodigy rushed to her side 
 with a bottle of smelling-salts. 
 
 She recovered slowly. " Permit me," she 
 said, rising with dignity, " to leave the ship. I 
 am unaccustomed to such conduct." 
 
 " Hear me she is my mother ! " 
 
 " She certainly is old enough to be," replied 
 the mermaid ; " and to speak of that being her 
 own hair," she said, as she rearranged, with 
 characteristic grace, a comb, and a small hand- 
 mirror, her own luxuriant tresses. 
 
 " If I couldn't afford any other clothes, I might 
 wear a switch, too ! " hissed the Amazonian 
 queen. " I suppose you don't dye it on account 
 of the salt water ? But perhaps you prefer 
 green, dear ? " 
 
 " A little salt water might improve your own 
 complexion, love." 
 
 " Fishwoman ! " screamed the Amazonian 
 queen. 
 
 " Bloomerite ! " shrieked the mermaid. 
 
 In another instant they had seized each other. 
 
88 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 " Mutiny ! Overboard with them ! " cried the 
 Pirate Prodigy, rising to the occasion, and cast 
 ing aside all human affection in the peril of the 
 moment. 
 
 A plank was brought and the two women 
 placed upon it. 
 
 " After you, dear," said the mermaid signifi 
 cantly to the Amazonian queen ; " you're the 
 oldest." 
 
 " Thank you ! " said the Amazonian queen, 
 stepping back. " Fish is always served first." 
 
 Stung by the insult, with a wild scream of 
 rage the mermaid grappled her in her arms and 
 leaped into the sea. 
 
 As the waters closed over them for ever, the 
 Pirate Prodigy sprang to his feet. " Up with 
 the black flag, and bear away for New London," 
 he shouted in trumpet-like tones. " Ha ! ha ! 
 Once more the Rover is free ! " 
 
 Indeed it was too true. In that fatal moment 
 he had again loosed himself from the trammels 
 of human feeling and was once more the Boy 
 Avenger. 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 89 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A GAIN I must ask my young friends to 
 mount my hippogriff and hie with me to 
 the almost inaccessible heights of the Rocky 
 Mountains. There, for years, a band of wild 
 and untamable savages, known as the Pigeon 
 Feet, had resisted the blankets and bibles of 
 civilization. For years the trails leading to 
 their camp were marked by the bones of 
 teamsters and broken waggons, and the trees 
 were decked with the dying scalp-locks of 
 women and children. The boldest of military 
 leaders hesitated to attack them in their fortress 
 es, and prudently left the scalping-knives, rifles, 
 powder, and shot provided by a paternal govern 
 ment for their welfare lying on the ground a 
 few miles from their encampment, with the 
 request that they were not to be used until the 
 military had safely retired. Hitherto, save an 
 occasional incursion into the territory of the 
 
90 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 Knock-knees, a rival tribe, they had limited 
 their depredations to the vicinity. 
 
 But lately a baleful change had come over 
 them. Acting under some evil influence, they 
 now pushed their warfare into the white settle 
 ments, carrying fire and destruction with them. 
 Again and again had the Government offered 
 them a free pass to Washington and the privi 
 lege of being photographed, but under the 
 same evil guidance they refused. There was a 
 singular mystery in their mode of aggression. 
 Schoolhouses were always burned, the school 
 masters taken into captivity, and never again 
 heard from. A. palace car on the Union Pacific 
 Railway, containing an excursion party of 
 teachers en route to San Francisco, was sur 
 rounded, its inmates captured, and their 
 vacancies in the school catalogue never again 
 filled. Even a board of educational examiners, 
 proceeding to Cheyenne, were taken prisoners, 
 and obliged to answer questions they them 
 selves had proposed, amidst horrible tortures. 
 By degrees these atrocities were traced to the 
 malign influence of a new chief of the tribe. 
 As yet little was known of him but through his 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 91 
 
 baleful appellations, "Young Man who Goes 
 for His Teacher," and " He lifts the Hair of the 
 School Marm." He was said to be small and 
 exceedingly youthful in appearance. Indeed, 
 his earlier appellative, " He Wipes His Nose on 
 His Sleeve," was said to have been given to 
 him to indicate his still boy-like habits. 
 
 It was night in the encampment and among 
 the lodges of the Pigeon Toes. Dusky maidens 
 flitted in and out among the camp-fires like 
 brown moths, cooking the toothsome buffalo- 
 hump, frying the fragrant bear's-meat, and 
 stewing the esculent bean for the braves. For 
 a few favoured ones sput grasshoppers were 
 reserved as a rare delicacy, although the proud 
 Spartan soul of their chief scorned all such 
 luxuries. 
 
 He was seated alone in his wigwam, attended 
 only by the gentle Mushymush, fairest of the 
 Pigeon Feet maidens. Nowhere were the cha-- 
 racteristics of her great tribe more plainly 
 shown than in the little feet that lapped over 
 each other in walking. A single glance at the 
 chief was sufficient to show the truth of the 
 wild rumours respecting his youth. He was 
 
92 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 scarcely twelve, of proud and lofty bearing, and 
 clad completely in wrappings of various- 
 coloured scalloped cloths, which gave him the 
 appearance of a somewhat extra-sized pen 
 wiper. An enormous eagle's feather, torn from 
 the wing of a bald eagle who once attempted 
 to carry him away, completed his attire. It 
 was also the memento of one of his most 
 superhuman feats of courage. He would un 
 doubtedly have scalped the eagle but that 
 nature had anticipated him. 
 
 " Why is the Great Chief sad ? " said Mushy- 
 mush softly. " Does his soul still yearn for the 
 blood of the palefaced teachers ? Did not the 
 scalping of two professors of geology in the 
 Yale exploring party satisfy his warrior's heart 
 yesterday ? Has he forgotten that Gardener and 
 King are still to follow ? Shall his own Mushy- 
 mush bring him a botanist to-morrow ? Speak, 
 for the silence of my brother lies on my heart 
 like the snow on the mountain and checks the 
 flow of my speech." 
 
 Still the proud Boy Chief sat silent. Sud 
 denly he said " Hist ! " and rose to his feet. 
 Taking a long rifle from the ground he adjusted 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 93 
 
 its sight. Exactly seven miles away on the 
 slope of the mountain the figure of a man was 
 seen walking. The Boy Chief raised the rifle 
 to his unerring eye and fired. The man fell. 
 
 A scout was despatched to scalp and search 
 the body. He presently returned. 
 
 " Who was the paleface ? " eagerly asked the 
 chief. 
 
 " A life insurance agent." 
 
 A dark scowl settled on the face of the 
 chief. 
 
 " I thought it was a book pedlar." 
 
 " Why is my brother's heart sore against the 
 book pedlar ? " asked Mushymush. 
 
 " Because," said the Boy Chief fiercely, " I 
 am again without my regular dime novel and 
 I thought he might have one in his pack. Hear 
 me, Mushymush. The United States mails no 
 longer bring me my Young America or my 
 Boys and Girls Weekly. I find it impossible, 
 even with my fastest scouts, to keep up with 
 the rear of General Howard, and replenish my 
 literature from the sutler's waggon. Without a 
 dime novel or a Young America, how am I to 
 keep up this Injin business ? " 
 
94 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 Mushymush remained in meditation a single 
 moment. Then she looked up proudly. 
 
 " My brother has spoken. It is well. He 
 shall have his dime novel. He shall know the 
 kind of hair-pin his sister Mushymush is." 
 
 And she arose and gambolled lightly as the 
 fawn out of his presence. 
 
 In two hours she returned. In one hand she 
 held three small flaxen scalps, in the other * The 
 Boy Marauder,' complete in one volume, price 
 ten cents. 
 
 " Three palefaced children," she gasped, 
 " were reading it in the tail end of an emigrant 
 waggon. I crept up to them softly. Their 
 parents are still unaware of the accident," and 
 she sank helpless at his feet. 
 
 " Noble girl ! " said the Boy Chief, gazing 
 proudly on her prostrate form ; " and these are 
 the people that a military despotism expects to 
 subdue ! " 
 
The Hoodlum Band, 95 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "D UT the capture of several waggon-loads of 
 commissary whisky, and the destruction of 
 two tons of stationery intended for the general 
 commanding, which interfered with his regular 
 correspondence with the War Department, at 
 last awakened the United States military 
 authorities to active exertion. A quantity of 
 troops were massed before the Pigeon Feet 
 encampment, and an attack was hourly -immi 
 nent. 
 
 " Shine your boots, sir ? " 
 
 It was the voice of a youth in humble attire, 
 standing before the flap of the commanding 
 general's tent. 
 
 The general raised his head from his corre 
 spondence. 
 
 " Ah," he said, looking down on the humble 
 boy, " I see ; I shall write that the appliances 
 of civilisation move steadily forward with the 
 army. Yes," he added, "you may shine my 
 
C)6 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 military boots. You understand, however, that 
 to get your pay you must first 
 
 " Make a requisition on the commissary- 
 general, have it certified to by the quartermaster, 
 countersigned by the post-adjutant, and sub 
 mitted by you to the War Department " 
 
 " And charged as stationery," added the 
 general gently. " You are, I see, an intelligent 
 and thoughtful boy. I trust you neither use 
 whisky, tobacco, nor are ever profane ? " 
 
 " I promised my sainted mother " 
 
 " Enough ! Go on with your blacking ; I 
 have to lead the attack on the Pigeon Feet at 
 eight precisely. It is now half-past seven," said 
 the general, consulting a large kitchen clock 
 that stood in the corner of his tent. 
 
 The little bootblack looked up : the general 
 was absorbed in his correspondence. The boot 
 black drew a tin putty-blower from his pocket, 
 took unerring aim, and nailed in a single shot 
 the minute-hand to the dial. Going on with 
 his blacking, yet stopping ever and anon to 
 glance over the general's plan of campaign, 
 spread on the table before him, he was at last 
 interrupted by the entrance of an officer. 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 97 
 
 " Everything is ready for the attack, general. 
 It is now eight o'clock." 
 
 " Impossible ! It is only half-past seven." 
 
 " But my watch, and the watches of the 
 staff " 
 
 "Are regulated by my kitchen clock, that 
 has been in my family for years. Enough ! it 
 is only half-past seven." 
 
 The officer retired ; the bootblack had finished 
 one boot. Another officer appeared. 
 
 " Instead of attacking the enemy, general, we 
 are attacked ourselves. Our pickets are already 
 driven in." 
 
 " Military pickets should not differ - from 
 other pickets," said the bootblack modestly. 
 " To stand firmly they should be well driven 
 in." 
 
 " Ha ! there is something in that," said the 
 general thoughtfully. " But who are you, who 
 speak thus ?" 
 
 Rising to his full height, the bootblack threw 
 off his outer rags, and revealed the figure of the 
 Boy Chief of the Pigeon Feet. 
 
 " Treason !" shrieked the general ; "order an 
 advance along the whole line." 
 
 H 
 
98 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 But in vain. The next moment he fell 
 beneath the tomahawk of the Boy Chief, and 
 within the next quarter of an hour the United 
 States army was dispersed. Thus ended the 
 battle of Bootblack Creek. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A ND yet the Boy Chief was not entirely 
 happy. Indeed, at times he seriously 
 thought of accepting the invitation extended 
 by the Great Chief at Washington immediately 
 after the massacre of his soldiers, and once 
 more revisiting the haunts of civilisation. His 
 soul sickened in feverish inactivity ; school 
 masters palled on his taste ; he had introduced 
 base-ball, blind hooky, marbles, and peg-top 
 among his Indian subjects, but only with indif 
 ferent success. The squaws persisted in boring 
 holes through the china alleys and wearing 
 them as necklaces ; his warriors stuck pikes in 
 their base-ball bats, and made war-clubs of 
 them. He could not but feel, too, that the 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 99 
 
 gentle Mushymush, although devoted to her 
 paleface brother, was deficient in culinary edu 
 cation. Her mince pies were abominable ; her 
 jam far inferior to that made by his Aunt Sally 
 of Doemville. Only an unexpected incident 
 kept him equally from the extreme of listless 
 Sybaritic indulgence or of morbid cynicism. 
 Indeed, at the age of twelve, he already had 
 become disgusted with existence. 
 
 He had returned to his wigwam after an 
 exhausting buffalo-hunt, in which he had slain 
 two hundred and seventy-five buffalo with his 
 own hand, not counting the individual buffalo 
 on which he had leaped, so as to join the herd, 
 and which he afterward led into the camp a 
 captive and a present to the lovely Mushymush. 
 He had scalped two express riders, and a cor 
 respondent of the New York Herald; had 
 despoiled the Overland Mail Stage of a quan 
 tity of vouchers which enabled him to draw 
 double rations from the Government, and was 
 reclining on a bearskin smoking and thinking of 
 the vanity of human endeavour, when a scout 
 entered, saying that a paleface youth had 
 demanded access to his person. 
 
 H 2 
 
TOO The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 " Is he a commissioner ? If so, say that the 
 red man is rapidly passing to the happy hunt 
 ing-grounds of his fathers, and now desires only 
 peace, blankets, and ammunition ; obtain the 
 latter, and then scalp the commissioner." 
 
 " But it is only a youth who asks an inter 
 view." 
 
 " Does he look like an insurance agent ? If 
 so, say that I have already policies in three 
 Hartford companies. Meanwhile prepare the 
 stake, and see that the squaws are ready with 
 their implements of torture." 
 
 The youth was admitted ; he was evidently 
 only half the age of the Boy Chief. As he 
 entered the wigwam, and stood revealed to his 
 host, they both started. In another moment 
 they were locked in each other's arms. 
 
 " Jenky, old boy ! " 
 
 " Bromley, old fel ! " 
 
 B. F. Jenkins, for such was the name of the 
 Boy Chief, was the first to recover his calm 
 ness. Turning to his warriors he said proudly : 
 
 " Let my children retire while I speak to the 
 agent of our Great Father in Washington. 
 Hereafter no latch-keys will be provided for the 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 101 
 
 wigwams of the warriors. The practice of late 
 hours must be discouraged." 
 
 " How ! " said the warriors, and instantly- 
 retired. 
 
 " Whisper ! " said Jenkins, drawing his friend 
 aside ; " I am known here only as the Boy 
 Chief of the Pigeon Toes." 
 
 " And I," said Bromley Chitterlings proudly, 
 " am known everywhere as the Pirate Prodigy 
 the Boy Avenger of the Patagonian coast." 
 " But how came you here ? " 
 " Listen ! My pirate brig, the Lively Mer 
 maid, now lies at Meiggs's wharf in San Fran 
 cisco, disguised as a Mendicino lumber vessel. 
 My pirate crew accompanied me here in a 
 palace car from San Francisco." 
 
 " It must have been expensive," said the pru 
 dent Jenkins. 
 
 "It was, but they defrayed it by a collection 
 from the other passengers you understand. 
 The papers will be full of it to-morrow. Do 
 you take in the New York Sun ? " 
 
 " No ; I dislike their Indian policy. But 
 why are you here ? " 
 
 " Hear me, Jenk ! Tis a long and a sad 
 
IO2 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 story. The lovely Eliza J. Sniffen, who fled 
 with me from Doemville, was seized by her 
 parents and torn from my arms at New 
 Rochelle. Reduced to poverty by the breaking 
 of the savings bank of which he was president 
 a failure to which I largely contributed, and 
 the profits of which I enjoyed I have since 
 ascertained that Eliza Jane Sniffen was forced 
 to become a schoolmistress, departed to take 
 charge of a seminary in Colorado, and since 
 then has never been heard from." 
 
 Why did the Boy Chief turn pale, and clutch 
 at the tent-pole for support ? Why, indeed ? 
 
 "Eliza Jane Sniffen," gasped Jenkins, "aged 
 fourteen, red-haired, with a slight tendency to 
 strabismus ? " 
 "The same." 
 
 " Heaven help me ! She died by my man 
 date!" 
 
 " Traitor ! " shrieked Chitterlings, rushing at 
 Jenkins with a drawn poniard. 
 
 But a figure interposed. The slight girlish 
 form of Mushymush with outstretched hands 
 stood between the exasperated Pirate Prodigy 
 and the Boy Chief. 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 103 
 
 " Forbear," she said sternly to Chitterlings ; 
 " you know not what you do." 
 
 The two youths paused. 
 
 " Hear me/' she said rapidly. " When cap 
 tured in a confectioner's shop at New Rochelle, 
 E. J. Sniffen was taken back to poverty. She 
 resolved to become a schoolmistress. Hearing 
 of an opening in the West, she proceeded to 
 Colorado to take exclusive charge of the pen- 
 sionnat of Mdme. Choflie, late of Paris. On 
 the way thither she was captured by the emis 
 saries of the Boy Chief " 
 
 " In consummation of a fatal vow I made, 
 never to spare educational instructors," in 
 terrupted Jenkins. 
 
 " But in her captivity," continued Mushymush, 
 " she managed to stain her face with poke-berry 
 juice, and mingling with the Indian maidens 
 was enabled to pass for one of the tribe. Once 
 undetected, she boldly ingratiated herself with 
 the Boy Chief how honestly and devotedly 
 he best can tell for I, Mushymush, the little 
 sister of the Boy Chief, am Eliza Jane Sniffen." 
 The Pirate Prodigy clasped her in his arms. 
 The Boy Chief, raising his hand, ejaculated 
 
IO4 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 " Bless you, my children ! " 
 
 " There is but one thing wanting to complete 
 this reunion," said Chitterlings, after a pause, 
 but the hurried entrance of a scout stopped his 
 utterance. 
 
 " A commissioner from the Great Father in 
 Washington." 
 
 " Scalp him ! " shrieked the Boy Chief; " this 
 is no time for diplomatic trifling." 
 
 " We have, but he still insists upon seeing 
 you, and has sent in his card." t 
 
 The Boy Chief took it, and read aloud, in 
 agonized accents : 
 
 " ' Charles Francis Adams Golightly, late 
 page in United States Senate, and acting com 
 missioner of United States.' " 
 
 In another moment, Golightly, pale, bleeding, 
 and, as it were, prematurely bald, but still cold 
 and intellectual, entered the wigwam. They 
 fell upon his neck and begged his forgiveness. 
 
 " Don't mention it," he said quietly ; " these 
 things must and will happen under our present 
 system of government. My story is brief. Ob 
 taining political influence through caucuses, I 
 became at last page in the Senate. Through 
 
The Hoodlum Band. 105 
 
 the exertions of political friends, I was appointed 
 clerk to the commissioner whose functions I 
 now represent. Knowing through political 
 spies in your own camp who you were, I acted 
 upon the physical fears of the commissioner, 
 who was an ex-clergyman, and easily induced 
 him to deputise me to consult with you. In 
 doing so, I have lost my scalp, but as the hirsute 
 signs of juvenility have worked against my 
 political progress I do not regret it. As a par 
 tially bald young man I shall have more power. 
 The terms that I have to offer are simply this : 
 you can do everything you want, go anywhere 
 you choose, if you will only leave this place. I 
 have a hundred- thousand-dollar draft on the 
 United States Treasury in my pocket at your 
 immediate disposal." 
 
 " But what's to become of me ? " asked Chit 
 terlings. 
 
 " Your case has already been under advertise 
 ment. The Secretary of State, who is an in 
 telligent man, has determined to recognize you 
 as de jure and de facto the only loyal represen 
 tative of the Patagonian Government. You 
 may safely proceed to Washington as its Envoy 
 
io6 The Hoodlum Band. 
 
 Extraordinary. I dine with the Secretary next 
 week." 
 
 "And yourself, old fellow ? " 
 
 " I only wish that twenty years from now 
 you will recognise by your influence and votes 
 the rights of C. F. A. Golightly to the Presi 
 dency." 
 
 And here ends our story. Trusting that my 
 dear young friends may take whatever example 
 or moral their respective parents and guardians 
 may deem fittest from these pages, I hope in 
 future years to portray further the career of 
 those three young heroes I have already intro 
 duced in the springtime of life to their charitable 
 consideration. 
 
"WHO WAS MY QUIET FRIEND?" 
 
'WHO WAS MY QUIET FRIEND?" 
 
 " C TRANGER ! " 
 
 The voice was not loud, but clear and 
 penetrating. I looked vainly up and down the 
 narrow darkening trail. No one in the fringe 
 of alder ahead ; no one on the gullied slope 
 behind. 
 
 " ! stranger ! " 
 
 This time a little impatiently. The Californian 
 vocative, " O," always meant business. 
 
 I looked up, and perceived for the first time, 
 on the ledge, thirty feet above me, another trail 
 parallel with my own, and looking down upon 
 me through the buckeye bushes a small man on 
 a black horse. 
 
 Five things to be here noted by the circum 
 spect mountaineer. First, the locality lonely 
 and inaccessible and away from the regular far- 
 
Ho "Who was my Quiet Friend?" 
 
 ing of teamsters and miners. Secondly, the 
 stranger's superior knowledge of the road from 
 the fact that the other trail was unknown to the 
 ordinary traveller. Thirdly, that he was well 
 armed and equipped. Fourthly, that he was 
 better mounted. Fifthly, that any distrust or 
 timidity arising from the contemplation of these 
 facts had better be kept to oneself. 
 
 All this passed rapidly through my mind as I 
 returned his salutation. 
 
 " Got any tobacco ?" he asked. 
 
 I had, and signified the fact, holding up the 
 pouch inquiringly. 
 
 "All right, I'll come down. Ride on, and I'll 
 jine ye on the slide." 
 
 " The slide ?" Here was a new geographical 
 discovery as odd as the second trail. I had 
 ridden over the trail a dozen times, and seen no 
 communication between the ledge and trail. 
 Nevertheless I went on a hundred yards or so, 
 when there was a sharp crackling in the under 
 brush, a shower of stones on the trail, and my 
 friend plunged through the bushes to my side 
 down a grade that I should scarcely have 
 dared to lead my horse. There was no doubt 
 
" Who was my Quiet Friend ?" ill 
 
 he was an accomplished rider another fact to 
 be noted. 
 
 As he ranged beside me I found I was not 
 mistaken as to his size ; he was quite under 
 the medium height, and, but for a pair of 
 cold gray eyes, was rather commonplace in 
 feature. 
 
 "You've got a good horse there," I sug 
 gested. 
 
 He was filling his pipe from my pouch, but 
 looked up a little surprised, and said " Of 
 course." He then puffed away with the nervous 
 eagerness of a man long deprived of that seda 
 tive. Finally, between the puffs, he asked me 
 whence I came. 
 
 I replied from " Lagrange." 
 
 He looked at me a few moments curiously, 
 but on my adding that I had only halted there 
 for a few hours, he said : " I thought I knew 
 every man between Lagrange and Indian 
 Spring, but somehow I sorter disremember 
 your face and your name." 
 
 Not particularly caring that he should remem 
 ber either, I replied, half laughingly, that as I 
 lived the other side of Indian Spring, it was 
 
112 "Who was my Quiet Friend?" 
 
 quite natural. He took the rebuff if such it 
 was so quietly, that as an act of mere perfunc 
 tory politeness, I asked him where he came 
 from. 
 
 "Lagrange." 
 
 " And you are going to " 
 
 " Well ! that depends pretty much on how 
 things pan out, and whether I can make the 
 riffle." He let his hand rest quite unconsciously 
 on the leathern holster of his dragoon revolver, 
 yet with a strong suggestion to me of his ability 
 " to make the riffle " if he wanted to, and added : 
 " But just now I was reck'nin' on taking a little 
 pasear with you." 
 
 There was nothing offensive in his speech, 
 save its familiarity and the reflection, perhaps, 
 that whether I objected or not, he was quite 
 able to do as he said. I only replied that if 
 our pasear was prolonged beyond Heavytree 
 Hill, I should have to borrow his beast. To 
 my surprise, he replied quietly, " That's so," 
 adding that the horse was at my disposal when 
 he wasn't using it, and half of it when he was. 
 " Dick has carried double many a time before 
 this," he continued, " and kin do it again ; when 
 
" Who iv as my Quiet Friend ?" 113 
 
 your mustang gives out, I'll give you a lift, and 
 room to spare." 
 
 I could not help smiling at the idea of 
 appearing before the boys at Red Gulch en 
 croupe with the stranger ; but neither could I 
 help being oddly affected by the suggestion 
 that his horse had done double duty before. 
 " On what occasion, and why ? " was a question 
 I kept to myself. We were ascending the long 
 rocky flank of the Divide ; the narrowness of 
 the trail obliged us to proceed slowly and in 
 file, so that there was little chance for conver 
 sation, had he been disposed to satisfy my 
 curiosity. 
 
 We toiled on in silence, the buckeye giving 
 way to chimisal, the westering sun, reflected 
 again from the blank walls beside us, blinding 
 our eyes with its glare. The pines in the canon 
 below were olive gulfs of heat, over which a 
 hawk here and there drifted lazily, or rising to 
 our level, cast a weird and gigantic shadow of 
 slowly moving wings on the mountain side. 
 The superiority of the stranger's horse led him 
 often far in advance, and made me hope that 
 he might forget me entirely, or push on, grown 
 
 I 
 
H4 "Who was my Quiet Friend?" 
 
 weary of waiting. But regularly he would halt 
 by a boulder, or reappear from some chimisal t 
 where he had patiently halted. I was beginning 
 to hate him mildly, when at one of those re 
 appearances, he drew up to my side, and asked 
 me how I liked Dickens ! 
 
 Had he asked my opinion of Huxley or 
 Darwin, I could not have been more astonished. 
 Thinking it were possible that he referred to 
 some local celebrity of Lagrange, I said, hesi 
 tatingly : 
 
 "You mean ?" 
 
 " Charles Dickens. Of course you've read 
 him ! Which of his books do you like 
 best ? " 
 
 I replied with considerable embarrassment 
 that I liked them all as I certainly did. 
 
 He grasped my hand for a moment with a 
 fervor quite unlike his usual phlegm, and said, 
 "That's me, old man. Dickens ain't no slouch. 
 You can count on him pretty much all the 
 time." 
 
 With this rough preface, he launched into a 
 criticism of the novelist, which for intelligent 
 sympathy and hearty appreciation I had rarely 
 
"Who was my Quiet Friend?" 115 
 
 heard equalled. Not only did he dwell upon 
 the exuberance of his humor, but upon the 
 power of his pathos and the all-pervading ele 
 ment of his poetry. I looked at the man in 
 astonishment. I had considered myself a rather 
 diligent student of the great master of fiction, 
 but the stranger's felicity of quotation and 
 illustration staggered me. It is true that his 
 thought was not always clothed in the best 
 language, and often appeared in the slouching, 
 slangy undress of the place and period, yet it 
 never was rustic nor homespun, and sometimes 
 struck me with its precision and fitness. . Con 
 siderably softened toward him, I tried him with 
 other literature. But vainly. Beyond a few of 
 the lyrical and emotional poets, he knew no 
 thing. Under the influence and enthusiasm of 
 his own speech, he himself had softened con 
 siderably ; offered to change horses with me, 
 readjusted my saddle with professional skill, 
 transferred my pack to his own horse, insisted 
 upon my sharing the contents of his whiskey 
 flask, and, noticing-that I was unarmed, pressed 
 upon me a silver mounted derringer, which he 
 assured me he could " warrant." These various 
 
 I 2 
 
n6 "Who was my Quiet Friend?" 
 
 offices of good will and the diversion of his 
 talk beguiled me from noticing the fact that the 
 trail was beginning to become obscure and 
 unrecognizable. We were evidently pursuing 
 a route unknown before to me. I pointed out 
 the fact to my companion a little impatiently. 
 He instantly resumed his old manner and 
 dialect. 
 
 " Well, I reckon one trail's as good as another, 
 and what hev ye got to say about it ? " 
 
 I pointed out, with some dignity, that I 
 preferred the old trail. 
 
 II Mebbee you did. But you're jiss now takin' 
 a pasear with me. This yer trail will bring you 
 right into Indian Spring, and onnoticcd, and no 
 questions asked. Don't you mind now, I'll see 
 you through." 
 
 It was necessary here to make some stand 
 against my strange companion. I said firmly, 
 yet as politely as I could, that I had proposed 
 stopping over night with a friend. 
 
 "Whar?" 
 
 I hesitated. The friend was an eccentric 
 Eastern man, well known in the locality for his 
 fastidiousness and his habits as a recluse. A 
 
11 Who was my Quiet Friend?" 117 
 
 misanthrope of ample family and ample means, 
 he had chosen a secluded but picturesque valley 
 in the Sierras, where he could rail against the 
 world without opposition. " Lone Valley," or 
 " Boston Ranch " as it was more familiarly 
 called, was the one spot that the average miner 
 both respected and feared. Mr. Sylvester, its 
 proprietor, had never affiliated with "the boys," 
 nor had he ever lost their respect by any active 
 opposition to their ideas. If seclusion had 
 been his object he certainly was gratified. 
 Nevertheless, in the darkening shadows of the 
 night, and on a lonely and unknown trail, I 
 hesitated a little at repeating his name to a 
 stranger of whom I knew so little. But my 
 mysterious companion took the matter out of 
 my hands. 
 
 " Look yar," he said, suddenly, "thar ain't 
 but one place 'twixt yer and Indian Spring 
 whar ye can stop, and that's Sylvester's." 
 
 I assented, a little sullenly. 
 
 " Well," said the stranger, quietly, and with a 
 slight suggestion of conferring a favor on me. 
 " Ef you're pointed for Sylvester's why / 
 don't mind stopping thar with ye. It's a little off 
 
Ii8 "Who was my Quiet Friend?" 
 
 the road I'll lose some time but taking it by 
 and large I don't much." 
 
 I stated, as rapidly and as strongly as I 
 could, that my acquaintance with Mr. Sylvester 
 did not justify the introduction of a stranger to 
 his hospitality that he was unlike most of the 
 people here in short, that he was a queer 
 man, &c., &c. 
 
 To my surprise my companion answered 
 quietly : " O, that's all right. I've heerd of him. 
 Ef you don't feel like checking me through, 
 or if you'd rather put ' C. O. D.' on my back, 
 why it's all the same to me. I'll play it alone. 
 Only you just count me in. Say ' Sylvester ' 
 all the time. That's me ! " 
 
 What could I oppose to this man's quiet 
 assurance ? I felt myself growing red with 
 anger and nervous with embarrassment ? 
 What would the correct Sylvester say to me ? 
 What would the girls I was a young man 
 then, and had won an entree to their domestic 
 circle by my reserve known by a less compli 
 mentary adjective among the " boys " what 
 would they say to my new acquaintance ? Yet 
 I certainly could not object to his assuming all 
 
"Who teas my Quiet Friend?" .119 
 
 risk on his own personal recognizances, nor 
 could I resist a certain feeling of shame at my 
 embarrassment. 
 
 We were beginning to descend. In the dis 
 tance below us already twinkled the lights in 
 the solitary rancho of Lone Valley. I turned 
 to my companion. " But you have forgotten 
 that I don't even know your name. What am 
 I to call you ? " 
 
 " Thet's so," he said, musingly. " Now, let's 
 see. 'Kearney' would be a good name. It's 
 short and easy like. Thar's a street in 'Frisco 
 the same title. Kearney it is." 
 
 " But " I began, impatiently. 
 
 " Now you leave all that to me," he inter 
 rupted, with a superb self-confidence that I 
 could not but admire. "The name ain't no 
 account. It's the man that's responsible. Ef 
 I was to lay for a man that I reckoned was 
 named Jones, and after I fetched him I found 
 out on the inquest that his real name was 
 Smith that wouldn't make no matter, as long 
 as I got the man." 
 
 The illustration, forcible as it was, did not 
 strike me as offering a prepossessing introduc- 
 
120 "Who was my Quiet Friend?" 
 
 tion, but we were already at the rancho. The 
 barking of dogs brought Sylvester to the door 
 of the pretty little cottage which his taste had 
 adorned. 
 
 I briefly introduced Mr. Kearney. " Kearney 
 will do Kearney's good enough for me," com 
 mented the soi-disant Kearney half aloud, to 
 my own horror and Sylvester's evident mystifi 
 cation, and then he blandly excused himself for 
 a moment that he might personally supervise 
 the care of his own beast. When he was 
 out of ear-shot, I drew the puzzled Sylvester 
 aside. 
 
 " I have picked up I mean I have been 
 picked up on the road by a gentle maniac, 
 whose name is not Kearney. He is well armed 
 and quotes Dickens. With care, acquiescence 
 in his views on all subjects, and general submis 
 sion to his commands, he may be placated. 
 Doubtless the spectacle of your helpless family, 
 the contemplation of your daughter's beauty 
 and innocence, may touch his fine sense of 
 humor and pathos. Meanwhile, Heaven help 
 you, and forgive me." 
 
 I ran up stairs to the little den that my 
 
"Who was my Quiet Friend?'' 121 
 
 hospitable host had kept always reserved for 
 me in my wanderings. I lingered some time 
 over my ablutions, hearing the languid, gentle 
 manly drawl of Sylvester below mingled with 
 the equally cool, easy slang of my mysterious 
 acquaintance. When I came down to the sitting 
 room I was surprised, however, to find the self- 
 styled Kearney quietly seated on the sofa, the 
 gentle May Sylvester, the "Lily of Lone 
 Valley," sitting with maidenly awe and un 
 affected interest on one side of him, while on 
 the other that arrant flirt, her cousin Kate, 
 was practising the pitiless archery of her 
 eyes, with an excitement that seemed almost 
 real. 
 
 " Who is your deliciously cool friend ? " she 
 managed to whisper to me at supper as I sat 
 utterly dazed and bewildered between the 
 enrapt May Sylvester, who seemed to hang 
 upon his words, and this giddy girl of the 
 period, who was emptying the battery of her 
 charms in active rivalry upon him. "Of course 
 we know his name isn't Kearney. But how 
 romantic ! And isn't he perfectly lovely ? And 
 who is he ? " 
 
122 "Who was my Quiet Friend?" 
 
 I replied with severe irony that I was not 
 aware what foreign potentate was then travel 
 ling incognito in the Sierras of California, but 
 that when his Royal Highness was pleased to 
 inform me, I should be glad to introduce him 
 properly. " Until then," I added, " I fear the 
 acquaintance must be Morganatic." 
 
 " You're only jealous of him," she said pertly. 
 " Look at May she is completely fascinated. 
 And her father too." And actually, the languid, 
 world-sick, cynical Sylvester was regarding him 
 with a boyish interest and enthusiasm almost 
 incompatible with his nature. Yet I submit 
 honestly to the clear-headed reason of my 
 own sex, that I could see nothing more in 
 the man than I have already delivered to the 
 reader. 
 
 In the middle of an exciting story of adven 
 ture, of which he, to the already prejudiced 
 mind of his fair auditors, was evidently the 
 hero, he stopped suddenly. 
 
 " It's only some pack train passing the 
 bridge on the lower trail," explained Syl 
 vester. " Go on." 
 
 " It may be my horse is a trifle oneasy in the 
 
"WJio was my Quiet Friend?" 123 
 
 stable," said the alleged Kearney ; " he ain't 
 used to boards and covering." Heaven only 
 knows what wild and delicious revelation lay in 
 the statement of this fact, but the girls looked 
 at each other with cheeks pink with excitement 
 as Kearney arose, and, with quiet absence of 
 ceremony, quitted the table. 
 
 " Ain't he just lovely !" said Kate, gasping for 
 breath, (< and so witty." 
 
 " Witty !" said the gentle May, with just the 
 slightest trace of defiance in her sweet voice. 
 " Witty, my dear ? why don't you see that his 
 heart is jnst breaking with pathos ? Witty, 
 indeed ; why, when he was speaking of that 
 poor Mexican woman that was hung, I 
 saw the tears gather in his eyes. Witty, in 
 deed!" 
 
 " Tears," laughed the cynical Sylvester, " tears, 
 idle tears. Why, you silly children, the man is 
 a man of the world a philosopher, quiet, obser 
 vant, unassuming." 
 
 " Unassuming ! " Was Sylvester intoxicated, 
 or had the mysterious stranger mixed the " in 
 sane verb " with the family pottage ? He re 
 turned before I could answer this self-asked 
 
124 "Who was my Quiet Friend?" 
 
 inquiry, and resumed coolly his broken narra 
 tive. Finding myself forgotten in the man I 
 had so long hesitated to introduce to my friends, 
 I retired to rest early, only to hear, through the 
 thin partitions, two hours later, enthusiastic 
 praises of the new guest from the voluble lips 
 of the girls, as they chatted together in the next 
 room before retiring. 
 
 At midnight I was startled by the sound of 
 horses' hoofs and the jingling of spurs below. 
 A conversation between my host and some 
 mysterious personage in the darkness was 
 carried on in such a low tone _that I could not 
 learn its import. As the cavalcade rode away, 
 I raised the window. 
 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 "Nothing," said Sylvester, coolly, " only an 
 other one of those [playful homicidal freaks 
 peculiar to the country. A man was shot by 
 Cherokee Jack over at Lagrange this morning, 
 and that was the Sheriff of Calaveras and his 
 posse hunting him. I told him I'd seen nobody 
 but you and your friend. By the way, I hope 
 the cursed noise hasn't disturbed him. The 
 poor fellow looked as if he wanted rest." 
 
"Who was my Quiet Friend?" 125 
 
 I thought so, too. Nevertheless, I went softly 
 to his room. It was empty. My impression 
 was that he had distanced the Sheriff of Cala- 
 veras about two hours. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Woodfall Kinder, Printers, Milford Lame, Strand, London, W.C. 
 
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 Oak Openings. 
 
 Biglow Papers. 
 
 vol. i. 
 
 The Heidenmauer. 
 
 Orpheus C. Kerr. 
 
 VOl. 2. 
 
 Mark's Reef. 
 
 iKjaL__ 
 
 Robinson Crusoe. 
 
 The Shadowless Man. 
 
 ', 
 
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 Published by George Routledge and Sons. 
 
AMERICAN LIBRARY: 
 
 A Series of the most Popular American Works, in fancy covers, is. each. 
 
 Messrs. GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS are my only authorised London 
 Publishers. (Signed) MARK TWAIN. 
 
 By MARK TWAIN. 
 
 The Celebrated Jumping Frog. 
 Author's edition, with a Copy 
 right Poem. 
 
 Roughing It (copyright). 
 
 The Innocents at Home (copy 
 right). 
 
 Mark Twain's Curious Dream 
 (copyright). 
 
 The Innocents Abroad. 
 
 The New Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 Information Wanted, and 
 Sketches. 
 
 By BRET HARTE. 
 
 The Luck of Roaring Camp, with 
 a Preface by Tom Hood. 
 
 Bret Harte's Poems (complete). 
 
 Mrs. Skaggs's Husbands. 
 
 Condensed Novels. 
 
 An Episode of Fiddletown. 
 
 The Fool of Five Forks. 
 
 Wan Lee, the Pagan. 
 
 Thankful Blossom. 
 
 A Summer Sheaf. 
 
 ByE. EGGLESTON. 
 The Hoosier Schoolmaster. 
 The End of the World. 
 The Mystery of Metropolisville. 
 
 Maum Guinea, by Mrs. Victor. 
 
 Life in Danbury. 
 
 My Opinions, and Betsy Bobbits. 
 
 Farm Ballads, by Carleton. 
 
 Out of the Hurly Burly, by Max 
 
 Adeler. 
 
 Autocrat of the Breakfast Table. 
 Artemus Ward : His Book His 
 
 Travels. 
 
 Eastern Fruit on Western Dishes. 
 First Families of the Sierras. 
 Biglow Papers, ist and and series. 
 Cloth of Gold, by T. B. Aldrich. 
 Helen's Babies, by One of their 
 
 Victims. 
 Elbow Room, by Max Adeler. 
 
 The Barton Experiment, by the 
 
 Author of Helen's Babies. 
 Jericho Road, by the same Author. 
 Some Other Babies, Very Like 
 
 Helen's, only More So. 
 The Man who was Not a Colonel, 
 
 by a High Prirate. 
 Dot and Dime : Two Characters 
 
 in Ebony. 
 The Poet at the Breakfast Table. 
 
 By O. W. Holmes. 
 The Scripture Club of Valley 
 
 Rest. 
 
 Other People's Children. 
 That Husband of Mine. 
 The Four Inexpressibles. 
 
 Two Shilling Volumes. 
 
 Roughing It, and the Innocents 
 
 at Home. 
 
 Mark Twain's Sketches. 
 The Innocents Abroad, and the 
 
 New Pilgrim's Progress. 
 The Celebrated Jumping Frog, 
 
 and the Curious Dream. 
 Prose and Poetry, by Bret Harte. 
 Holmes's Poet at the Breakfast 
 
 Table. 
 
 Holmes's Elsie Venner. 
 Condensed Novels, and Mrs. 
 
 Skaggs's Husbands. 
 The Circuit Rider, by Eggleston. 
 Arthur Bonnicastle, by Dr. Hol 
 land. 
 The Gilded Age, a novel, by Mark 
 
 Twain and C. D. Warner. 
 Josh Billings' Wit and Humour. 
 Prudence Palfrey, by T. B. 
 
 Aldrich. 
 
 Marjorie Daw, by T. B. Aldrich. 
 Helen's Babies.and Other People's 
 
 Children. 
 Mr. Miggs of Danbury, by J. M. 
 
 Bailey. 
 Some Folks, by Author of Helen's 
 
 Babies. 
 
 Published by George Routledge and Sons. 
 
RCUTLEDGE'S 
 
 AMERICAN LIBRARY. 
 
 ONE SHILLING EACH, 
 
 . THE CELEBRATED JUMPING 
 FROG. Author'? Edition, with a Copy 
 right Poem. By MARK TWAIN, 
 
 3 THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP. 
 With a Preface by TOM HOOD. By 
 3RicT HAUTE. 
 
 t ROUGH i No IT. (Copyright.) By 
 MARK TWAIN. 
 
 a THE HOOSIER SCHOOLMASTER. 
 By E. EG 'LESION. 
 
 f j MAUM Gl iNEA. By Mrs. VICTOR. 
 
 7 THE INNOCENTS AT HOME. 
 i 1 " >pyright.) By MARK TWAIN. 
 
 J MARK TWAIN'S CURIOUS DREAM. 
 
 i '.* 
 
 BRET HARTE'rs POEMS (complete) 
 
 THE INNOCENTS ABROAD. By 
 MARK TWAIN. 
 
 THE NEW PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 By MARK TWAIN. 
 
 THE END OF THF WORLD Ey 
 E. EGGLB TON. 
 
 MRS. SKAGGS'S HUSBANDS. Jy 
 BKPT HARTK 
 
 'I HE MYSTERY OF M^TROPOLIS- 
 VILLE. By E. EGGLESTON. 
 
 ROUGHING IT, and THE INNO 
 CENTS AT HOME. By MARK 
 TWAIN, (a*.) 
 
 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES, (a*.) 
 
 THE 1NNOCENTJ ABROAD, and 
 THE NEW PILGRIM'S PRO 
 GRESS, y M\RK TWAIN. (.) 
 
 THE CELEBRATED JUMPING 
 FROG, and THE CURIOUS 
 DP^AM. iiy MARK TWAJN (zs.) 
 
 PROSE & POETRY, By HARTH. (zs:) 
 
 TKK PO1 I AT THE BRfc/tvFAST- 
 TABLE. By O.W. h ,.:.TES. (2 ) 
 
 CONDENSED NOVELS, r?y BRJJV 
 HARTK. 
 
 LIFE IN DANBURY. 
 
 CONDENSED TT OVEL3. *r:d MRS. 
 SKACGS'S -IUSB '.ND '>.' HART: . (M. > 
 
 AN EPISODE Oi-' ^DDLETOWN. 
 By BHBT '. .. *.RTK. 
 
 M\ OPI IC.,S, AND BETSY BOE- 
 2113'. 
 
 FARM f 4T.JAT)ij. ByCAKLEroN. 
 
 CIRCUIT kl.DEk. ByEcGLBSTON. (-.) 
 
 ARTHUR BON^ICASTLE. By ; Dr. 
 HOLLAND. {.) 
 
 THK GILDED AGE. A Novel, by 
 MAK TTTAIN and C. D. WARNER, (aj.) 
 
 OUT OF THE HURLY-BURLY. By 
 MAX AJJEUUL 
 
 HUMOUR. 
 
 36 JOSH BILLH/GS Y/I 
 
 (as.) 
 
 37 PRUDENCE PALFREY. By T. E. AL- 
 
 DRICH. (2J.) 
 
 3 t THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAK 
 FAST-TABLE. 
 
 39 THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS. By 
 
 BRHT HAUTE. 
 
 40 MARJORIE DAW. By T. B. At- 
 
 DRICH. (at.) 
 
 42 ARTEMUS WARD : HIS BOOK HIS 
 
 TRAVELS. 
 
 43 EASTERN FRJIT ON .ESTERN 
 
 DISHES. 
 
 44 FIRST FAMILIES OF H? SIERXAS 
 
 45 THE BIGLOW PAPEl'S. ist and and 
 
 Series. 
 
 46 INFORMATION WANTED, and other 
 
 Sketches. By M-"K IV/^IN. i 
 
 47 WAN LEE, THE . J AGAX. By BRET 
 
 HARTH. 
 
 48 THE CLOTH OF COLD. By T. B. 
 
 ALDRICH. 
 
 49 HELEN'S BABIES. By One of their 
 
 Victims. 
 
 50 ELBOW ROOM. By MAX ADELER. 
 
 | 51 THANKFUL BLOSSOM. By BRET 
 
 HARTE. 
 1 52 THE BARTON EXPERIMENT. By 
 
 the Anthor of "Helen's Be: ies/ | 
 
 53 THE JERICHO ROAT). By the Author 
 
 of "Heier's Babies." | 
 
 54 SOME OTHER BABIES, Very Like 
 
 Helen's, only Mure So. 
 
 55 THE MAN WHO WAS NOT A CO 
 
 LONEL. By a Hisrh Pnvate. 
 
 56 HELEN'S BABIES a ,d OTHER 
 
 PEOPLE'S CHILI 'REN. (a*.) 
 
 57 DO AND DIME ; Two Characters in 
 
 Ebony. 
 
 i8 TK7 POET AT THE BREAKFAST- 
 TABLE. By O. W. HOLMES. 
 
 59 THE SCRIPTURE CLUB OF 
 
 VALLEY REST. By the Author of 
 "Helens Babies.' 1 
 
 60 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 
 
 the Author ol " Helen's Babies." 
 
 61 THAT HUSBAND OF MINE, 
 6a THE FOUR IRREPRESSIBLES. 
 
 63 MR. MIGGS OF DANBURY. (as.) 
 
 64 SOME FOLKS T>y the Author of | 
 
 " Helen's Babies" (a*.) 
 
 65 MY FRIEND THE TRAMP. By | 
 
 BRET HARTE. ., 
 
 66 MY MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 By