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 http://www.archive.org/details/chroniclesofmanuOOwynerich 
 
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 ROCKY POINT. 
 
Chronicles of Manuel Alanus 
 
 A True Story of Old San Francisco 
 
 BY 
 
 L. ERNEST WYNEKEN 
 
 New York 
 
 COCHRANE PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 1908 
 
Copyright, 1908, 
 By L. ERNEST WYNEKEN. 
 
 Add' I 
 GIFT 
 

 CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Pardoned out! 
 
 How bewildering the city ! 
 
 I have taken a room in a lodginghouse near the ferrv 
 landing, a nice room and with a clean bed, and a bay- 
 window looking out on the wide place in front of the big 
 Ferry Station. But it is too expensive for me. Three 
 dollars a week I I took it for one week; then I shall 
 move. 
 
 What crowds of people there are always coming and 
 going on the ferry-boats I And the street-cars, how they 
 come and shift and go again like clock-work! And they 
 and the ferr}'boats moving on time make, or seem to 
 make, the people move mechanically the same way. 
 
 I ate my lunch at a cheap restaurant, a short distance 
 up the street from this place. After that I took a stroll 
 along the water front. Some of it is changed altogether, 
 some of it is pretty much as it was when I knew it last. 
 The lumber-yards, which formerly extended to the water, 
 are all gone. There is a wide quay with houses fronting 
 on it and wharves opposite running out into the bay, 
 with big and little vessels lying at them, facing the 
 houses. All contain stores and shops. 
 
 T bought this writing-book and some ink and pens at 
 a stationer's and came back to my room to write. In 
 prison I got accustomed to write, till it has become a con- 
 firmed habit. 
 
 I feel strange, yet not so very strange. It almost 
 seems as if I in reality, had never left the city, had 
 never been away shut up all these many long years in 
 prison. A boy when I entered the prison, and what 
 but a I7OV now I 
 
 048 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 How could it be otherwise? Much as I have seen 
 and heard and thought and in myself have lived through, 
 and read and written out, to a great extent I must have 
 remained standing still, standing where I stood, the boy 
 
 I was. 
 
 The evening- fogs are closing in, the same, same, sum- 
 mer-fogs. 
 
 It is this mostly, I believe, that makes me feel as if 
 there were no changes: the sharp wind and the cold, 
 dismal fogs all day, all days, all seasons. 
 
 Would that they would close in upon me now forever ! 
 Vain regrets! ''To have no vain regrets!" That was 
 what the Prison Director said when he dismissed me. 
 I have only the money he gave me, the five dollars, which, 
 together with a new suit of clothes the government gives 
 to every convict upon his discharge, and the fifty dollars, a 
 present, he said, from friendly people. It came mostly, 
 I have no doubt, out of his own pocket. 
 
 He spoke very kindly; too kindly . His words will 
 not leave my ears. "To have no vain regrets, to begin 
 right off a new life," calling me a young man! And yes, 
 so I am! "Not to proclaim myself a convict, but if 
 necessary boldly acknowledge it and refer those who 
 would reproach me to my prison-record and to him." 
 Though of what good that? 
 
 "Above all," he said, and that was good advice, "to 
 go to work right away without delay and keep on work- 
 ing; not to think of the prison at all, to put it out of my 
 mind entirely. This would not be easy, because I had 
 been so long in prison, entering it at a very early age. 
 On account of my extreme youth I had received excep- 
 tional treatment, not only at that time but continually 
 right along unchanged. Some people would perhaps 
 think that I was indeed spoilt and unfit to live outside 
 the walls of a penitentiary any more. "He however 
 thought differently," he said, "and not only that I had 
 
 4 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 been wrongly imprisoned and should be set free, but that 
 I should soon show people that I was able to take care 
 
 of myself." ^ i j j 
 
 "He had long since become convinced, he concluded, 
 "that I had killed the man I did, in self-defence. If 
 everything were known, it would be so found, and for 
 that reason he had exerted himself to obtain my pardon." 
 
 If everything were known ! If everything were known, 
 it would be seen it was much more than self-defense. 
 
 He wanted me to take a place he had bespoke for 
 me as gardener at a gentleman's country-seat in the valley 
 next beyond the hills west of the penitentiary. I told 
 him I could not yet bear the idea of going where I 
 should be known from the start as a prison-bird. Now 
 I almost wish I had accepted the place so kindly pro- 
 vided for me, there, beyond the low, bare hills that have 
 for years walled in my longings, my hopes, my sorrows, 
 all my thoughts, my very being, till it is to me almost 
 as if they were part of me, as if it v/ere home. 
 
 I recall them now as I saw them then every evenmg 
 in rounded masses, dust-colored under the yellow sky, 
 divided into squares by the black bars of the grated 
 
 window. 
 
 Homesick? Homesick? Yes, homesick for the prison! 
 Perhaps it would have been better if I had never been 
 pardoned out. Then I could wish and long and hope 
 for everything. How often when in prison did I thmk 
 Mr. Tem Oldock would come to me, or Mahon, and with 
 them mv little brother ! 
 
 What can I think now? What can I do? Where 
 shall I look for them? Dare I go look for them? If 
 they had thought me worth looking after, would they 
 not have come long ago? They could easily have found 
 out, if they did not know where to look for me. But 
 they knew. They must have known. Why did they 
 
 5 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 never come, never send, never give a sign? Are they 
 all dead? 
 
 Oh, no ! I know it all very well. 
 
 Had Mr. Tern Oldock been here at that time, the time 
 of my trial, he would have stood by me, I am sure. But 
 what was there ever with him, outside of his many 
 business-affairs, that was not out of mind when out of 
 sight; except his son, his only child, his Mahon Mark? 
 Should I meet him tomorrow he would remember me, 
 know me, be my friend as he was every time he ran 
 across me when I was a child. But if he never sees me, 
 never hears of me again, he may never think of me 
 any more, not a single time. 
 
 The same with l^lahon! Yet not so! Mahon, so 
 open, so free-hearted, so generous! Naturally unselfish 
 and by his father spoilt to selfishness! Made careless, 
 heedless; and thoughtlessly inconsiderate! Forgetful! I 
 cannot but believe that he still thinks of me sometimes, I 
 thought so much of him. 
 
 But what of that? 
 
 I have often tried to feel sure that Mahon would 
 remember me, think of me spontaneously, even though 
 he would take no steps to enter into communication with 
 me unless brought to it by accident or some outside means. 
 It would be like his father. But in truth I doubt if he 
 has had any thought of me. He was much to me, but 
 what was I to him? And who, or what would have kept 
 him in memory of me? Or indeed, what vv'as there to 
 remember ? 
 
 When I knew him first I was too little to be much no- 
 ticed and known by any big boy like him. He was half as 
 old again as I. Kind he was to me and often my protec- 
 tor, but no more than to others, if I did feel it more. He 
 filled me with admiration and afir'ection. And when for 
 more than four years we were parted, I kept my heart 
 as full of love for him as ever it had been. But when 
 
 6 
 
CHRONICLES OF MAXUEL ALANUS 
 
 we met again, did he know me? He not only did not 
 know who I was, but he had no recollection of there ever 
 having been such a one as I, no memory whatever of 
 former times. 
 
 Then after being reunited and going to that college 
 together he was as friendly to me and kind as ever 
 and became my patron. And I loved him and admired 
 him as I always had done. But after all we were far 
 divided, for our grades were different. ^lany days I did 
 not see him except for a moment at a time. And when 
 he left with his father for Europe, a young man of seven- 
 teen years of age. what connection was there in reality 
 between us, other than what lay in my imagination, of 
 which he knew nothing, my affection for him, which he 
 felt no longer than we were together ? 
 
 But the weeks we were at my father's country-place, 
 the last weeks we Vv-ere together, that time he should 
 remember. 
 
 And my brother ! My little brother ! Harry I Harry ! 
 Where are you? Do you ever think of me? I killed 
 him to save you from him. He would have destroyed 
 you as he tried to destroy me. He did all he could to de- 
 stroy our father. He helped to bring my mother to her 
 grave and made your mother his slave. 
 
 How can Harry think of me all these succeeding years ! 
 Six years old he v.-as. To me lie always is the little 
 boy I held in my arms as he clung to me when they 
 parted us in the courtroom, his kisses and tears on my 
 face, his sobs in my ears. 
 
 How can he think of me? What can he know of me? 
 Long ago the recollection of me must have faded, even 
 the bare knov.dedge of my existence been forgotten. For 
 who would ever tell him of me? Who could? Not his 
 mother, silly, heartless thing ! Heartless ! Headless ! 
 What was she ever but the dumb tool in the hands of 
 that man, our common enemy, a tool with which to 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 wound our father and wear out his life? I doubt if 
 she ever had any understanding of what she was doing, 
 or what the man was that controlled her. And how had 
 my father come to marry her ? 
 
 But Cora, the daughter of her and that man, palmed 
 off on my father as his child, Cora, she was well able to 
 tell Harry of me. She knew all, better than 1, better than 
 even the man that was her father, w^hose every thought 
 of evil to us she shared. This evil directed most of all 
 to my father who loved her dearly, believing her to be his 
 ovm child. Yes! Cora could have talked to Harry of 
 me but I am sure she never did. She knew that to most 
 surely divide us all our lives Harry must forget me, and 
 that would soonest be done if he never heard me men- 
 tioned. 
 
 If only she did him no harm, such harm as might be 
 his destruction! But if she had I surely would have 
 heard of it. If he were dead her hate would certainly 
 have found some w*ay to let me know, for if I am for- 
 gotten by everyone else, by her, I know, I am remem- 
 bered perfectly. 
 
 The evening is growing into night. I ought to rest, 
 and yet I cannot. I have touched once again the spring 
 that opens the entrance to the dark space through which, 
 when once I have started I must go on. I was the same 
 with my father through life. 
 
 My father! Yes, my father! 
 
 How often have I made the round, gone fore and 
 back, feeling from point to point, combining what my 
 father told me himself and what some papers contained, 
 which he handed me before he died, with what came to 
 my knowledge from outward sources, what I knew within 
 myself and the confused accounts of Thomson: combin- 
 ing, framiiig, piecing together, reasoning, construing and 
 always only groping in the dark! How often have I 
 tried to write it out, to make it plainer to myself, the 
 
 8 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 story of my father's life! And yet every time the rela- 
 tion of the many parts are no better understood. 
 
 A family, by name Alanus, of the upper mercantile 
 class of one of the Atlantic seaboard-cities of the United 
 States, well to do, the man of German parentage, the 
 wife of mixed descent, their only child a boy, born in 
 Florence, Italy, while they are traveling and making 
 quite a lengthened stay in Tuscany. Some eight, nine 
 years later, when revisiting the birthplace of their son, 
 they adopt another boy whom Mr. Alanus somehow 
 runs across in his rambles in the neighborhood of 
 Florence at some peasant's place, and who first 
 attracts his attention by a strange likeness to his 
 own son. Upon closer observation and investigation he 
 seems chosen, marked and by a, most designing 
 providence placed in their very way for adoption. 
 Besides resembling their son in features he was hardly 
 less like him in build and stature and most astonishingly 
 like him in some special particulars, sucfi as a peculiar 
 cluster of five little, dark birthmark-spots, on the right 
 hip. Moreover he was an orphan, nameless, friendless. 
 He, also again like their son, was half German, though 
 further his parentage was unknown. He was of withni 
 less than nine months the same age as their son. Thus 
 he seemed in every respect a fitting foster brother which 
 the parents were seeking for their son. It was a thmg 
 that had been recommended and urged by their family- 
 physician, consulted on that point before this time by Mr. 
 Alanus. Their child, whose peculiarities of disposition 
 must even at this early age have given rise to apprehen- 
 sions for his future conduct, needed a suitable companion, 
 and they were doubly glad for his sake to have met with 
 one so unassuming, and satisfied to never claim more 
 than a second place, and yet so like as to fully appear the 
 brother of their child as he was to be. 
 
 As the two boys grew up, their resemblance was less 
 
 9 
 
ClIROXICLES or MAXUBL ALAKUS 
 
 marked. Their eyes and voice and their manner never 
 Iiad been ahkc. Later again, under foreign skies the 
 one retained his hghter skin, hair and eyes, while the 
 adopted son, the one who was my father, grew much 
 darker. Still likeness in features and figure, walk and 
 carriage always remained. Though how there ever could 
 be any resemblance at all between the two, their natures 
 being so utterly unlike, who can understand? 
 
 The family returned again to their home in the United 
 States with the poir adopted waif whom they called Henry 
 for ]\Ir. Alanus. It came to pass, and I must think very 
 soon, that the parents grow to love him more than their 
 own child. For who that is not insensible to all that is 
 lovable in human kind but must have loved him ; bright, 
 brave and true, modest and manly, sweet-tempered, gen- 
 tle; affectionate, of good sense and parts, and of good 
 spirits too. But at bottom he was of a nervous tempera- 
 ment, much tinged with melancholy, and very bashful. 
 
 I can picture him to myself, the little boy,, happy in 
 his loving heart to be loved, but unhappy already in his 
 generous, self-denying way for Richard's sake, the real 
 son, wdio might feel himself robbed of his birthright by 
 him, the intruder ; and already in his over-conscientious- 
 ness trying to make amends, reparation for this intrusion 
 by subordinating his wishes and desires to those of Rich- 
 ard's ; already, in self-conscious sense of duty and obliga- 
 tion, taking all the tricks and misdeeds of the other's 
 malignity as something to be borne and forgiven, forgot- 
 ten untold, unthought of, atoned for, as it were, by his, 
 my father's, own suft'erings. 
 
 All his life it continued, through early boyhood, school- 
 days, and first years of business-life on and on within 
 steady increase the run of time ! 
 
 When barely of age and but just through their young- 
 est clerkship, Richard developed such evil traits of char- 
 acter that Mr. Alanus, the father, became convinced that 
 
 10 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAXUS 
 
 the only way of saving Richard, as well as of savmg hnn- 
 self from Richard, was to send him away out of his house 
 and business, out of his town and country, to give him 
 the chance, if it was in him, to redeem himself, to make 
 a fresh start in an entirely new world. And my father, 
 his foster brother of his own volition w-ent vvith him. 
 Situations were procured for them in Buenos Aires, and 
 they left home never to return. 
 
 Mr. Alanus opposed my father's going most strenuously 
 and parted from him at last in great agony. And why did 
 he go, leave home, the parents, the place so dear to him 
 that while he lived never was he again altogether free 
 from homesickness? He could not have believed that he 
 could do anything to change Richard's nature or that he 
 had influence to check and turn Richard's w-ay of life. 
 He may have considered himself able to straighten some 
 of Richard's crookedness, to prevent or counteract some 
 of his plots. Young and of everyone more thoughtful 
 than of himself, the consideration how Richard's every 
 action must reflect on himself, the risk he ran of ruining 
 his own life by linking it to Richard's, formed no part of 
 his calculation, if calculate he did. It was simply his 
 duty to go and he w^ent. 
 
 But no! No duty nor calculation! It w^as to him a 
 wrong his uprightness w^ould not let him bear : that he, 
 Henry, the outsider, the merely adopted one should stay 
 at home, be everything, have everything, while the real 
 son w^ent into exile. It was that w^hich made him take 
 upon himself to share Richard's banishment. 
 
 I doubt if my father ever fully understood Richard 
 Alanus, and not alone because of their total unlikeness 
 but perhaps as much because he never tried to know him 
 as he w^as. He never wanted to fully lift the veil he him- 
 self had spun and woven since the first beginning and 
 ever held over and around Richard to shield him from 
 other's eyes and hide all there was in him of abomination. 
 
 II 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 In his fairness and tenderness my father always, I be- 
 lieve, saw in Richard the wronged child, the ousted son, 
 wronged and ousted by himself, or if not by him in strict 
 truth, at least in a manner through him, for himself. He 
 thought Richard unhappy, miserable because unloved, as 
 he himself would be and through misery driven to wild 
 exploits for relief. Later he may have thought to him- 
 self that Richard's bitterness turned him to dissipation, 
 vice and viciousness. But finally my father must have 
 known his utter depravity and his enmity to him. Yet to 
 the last there was that in my father which would not let 
 him condemn Richard without some reserve, some allow- 
 ance for his wrong doing. 
 
 But Richard was not unhappy, except may be through 
 failure of some plan of wickedness, casually and momen- 
 tarily till he could turn to some other scheme. He did 
 not grieve nor eat his heart in bitterness. He was of a 
 lively, sanguine disposition, and of a loud and scurrilous 
 humor. And impudent ! Loving all the low pleasures of 
 life, there was no enjoyment to him equal to plotting, 
 practising all sorts of deceits and tricks. He would gain 
 the following of young people mostly and lead them on 
 to debauchery and corruption when he had gained power 
 over them. He would maltreat them further with insults, 
 taunts, jeers, abuse of any kind, especially before strang- 
 ers. He was as cowardly, mean and cruel as he was 
 brazen. He loved to embroil his acquaintances in quar- 
 rels, trick and trap them into what might bring them open 
 disgrace if not utter ruin ! 
 
 Years went by in Buenos Aires ! The more unfettered 
 forms of social life in the new country made Richard's 
 evil ways at first less observable, while affording him more 
 opportunities. His only obstacle in reality was my father, 
 who first counseled, tried to prevent and at the end always 
 stepped in and helped out ! And he, too, of course, was 
 but a young man of warm blood, wanting his fun. needing 
 
 12 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 it! How many things may have slipped him? How 
 many times may he have come dangerously near being im- 
 plicated in the tricks he aimed at defeating? How many 
 traps must have been set for him? And he the better 
 hated for every failure to be entrapped ! 
 
 Richard was always in need of money, although by 
 no means altogether without m.oney-sense, as is the true 
 spendthrift, but without care of it, except for his de- 
 baucheries! And my father was always the one to have 
 to furnish it, if not before then afterwards to cancel and 
 make good obligations incurred, or worse! And again 
 my father was always the more hated for every loyal, 
 helpful act! 
 
 Hate? Well, perhaps not so much hate! For at 
 bottom I do not take Richard Alanus to have been man 
 enough to really, soundly hate anybody. He did not hate 
 the people he ill-used. I think he mostly was quite im- 
 personal about it. He did it for the pleasure it gave him : 
 a sort of gratification of a depraved taste ; a satisfaction 
 too, of his vanity, to think that he could treat people thus ! 
 
 Envious he was and vain. Jealousy was most powerful 
 in him — jealousy of everybody and everything, and par- 
 ticularly of what is most admirable. There was in him 
 a certain love to destroy, childish almost, cruelty: the de- 
 light in inflicting pain, the lust to torture! There was 
 nothing, absolutely nothing in him to be worked on, no 
 sense of honor, or duty, no principle, no feeling, no com- 
 mon humanity, no shame, not even self-interest, except 
 as concerned his personal safety, nothing but the fear of 
 the coward ! 
 
 I saw it, a child whom he had carried off from the old 
 wharf to be done away with, so that my father, then on 
 my track, might with new anguish learn too late that the 
 boy he had so often met and had come to like and love, 
 had been the son he had thought dead. I saw it as I read 
 his whole mind. So plain ! Could not others see it? So 
 
 13 
 
Ch'ROXICLES OF MAXUEL ALANUS 
 
 plain, so naked ! Could not my father have seen it long 
 since ? 
 
 But, may be, the very plainness and nakedness was the 
 very reason for his baseness not being taken at its full 
 value; that and the gradual progress. For if he plotted 
 to corrupt and debauch and ruin young men and women, 
 nearly always young people, the beginnings must naturally 
 always have been in the way of ordinary dissipation, such 
 as any young fellow can allow himself without attracting 
 attention. If he practised vices as much to lead on others 
 as for his own gratification and if it told on him, the 
 effect would not be observable at once. And when he 
 committed forgeries, they were now no more of his 
 father's but of my father's signature and not brought 
 to light. Not till later did he have to desist from raising 
 money that way. To my father it must have been such 
 an old story that it had almost lost its meaning. 
 
 While these two foster brothers were in Buenos Aires 
 their parents died. The inheritance went to my fatlier, 
 the will stating that Richard had already cost his father 
 by far the greater part of his fortune. But, of course, 
 all the money went into Richard's hands as soon as my 
 father obtained it, except a certain reserve-fund. 
 
 Later they left Buenos Aires and went to the city 
 of Mexico, where my father accepted a very lucrative 
 position in a German-French banking house. Here Rich- 
 ard lived without occupation, till, as in the first place it 
 had become imperative that he should leave his father's 
 house and his town and country, and as undoubtedly it 
 had been equally imperative that he had to leave Buenos 
 Aires, so now again disclosures of scandalous doings 
 necessitated his leaving Mexico City. And my father 
 of course went with him. It w^as the last chance, it was 
 the only possible way of saving Richard, to give him this 
 one more opportunity to redeem himself, to let him take 
 an entirely new start in a new country. They determined 
 
 14 
 
CHROXICLES Ub' MAXi'EL ALAXUS 
 
 to go to California, where, to be sure, the tirst golden 
 days were long since past and gone, but where develop- 
 ment of the whole country seemed to insure long years 
 of prosperity. They were to be the representatives in 
 San Francisco of the German-French house my father 
 had been the manager of in the city of ^lexico. 
 
 That my father should handcuff himself to that, his 
 worst enemy, is not strange, but who can explain why he, 
 the soul of honor and integrity and a man of great busi- 
 ness ability, should take Richard Alanus in partnership, or 
 engage him at all in this business, which was an affair 
 of others' as well as his own, belonging in part to that 
 German French concern? By this time he must have 
 known, if not of all his depravedness, his more than ir- 
 responsibility and utter lack of principle. How could he 
 sustain and countenance Richard? 
 
 Only that what money my father put in the venture 
 was the remainder of the inheritance from the parents, of 
 which in his eyes Richard was the rightful owner. The 
 money made Richard the real partner, and my father's 
 boss in fact. 
 
 To place him in the position of principal partner and 
 boss was the very last chance, the main agency vs-hich was 
 to work Richard's cure and salvation ! ^ly father was 
 merely partner in name, the man to do all the work, 
 assume all the responsibility and be a guarantee, a sort 
 of bond for Richard, given to the other partners. At 
 bottom it was still my father's feeling of duty and obliga- 
 tion to the parents which he would discharge by sacri- 
 ficing himself to the son. 
 
 Most certainly, too, Richard never entirely showed 
 himself such as he was to my father. My father could 
 not have known him as I knew him. Although I must 
 say it has always seemed to me that Richard was a man 
 very easily seen through. There was so much of the fool 
 in him that with all his deceitfulness he did not really de- 
 
 15 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ceive or convince. In all he said and undertook, in all he 
 did he always made some show of being insincere, some 
 pretence of playing pranks, as if he did not know the 
 difference between fun and crime. And in truth, he 
 wanted people to think this or something like this of him. 
 But the make-belief, the bluff was very plainly observable. 
 At the same time a reality was in the trick. It was not 
 all a make-belief, not all pretence. The fool in him was 
 too real, the lack of sense too great. He could not help 
 doing most things foolishly and always doing foolish 
 things. He never knew when to stop. He appeared 
 never to be able to look ahead any distance and to see 
 consequences. He constantly gave himself away and 
 would without understanding and judgment abuse the 
 servicefulness even of such of the shady set of characters 
 as were his helpers, such as are always gathering round 
 a man like Richard in any large city, or anywhere. 
 
 His boldness it was that carried him through in every- 
 thing, his brazenness, his front of doubly chilled steel ; 
 that was the thing. And also a certain brutality in 
 treating them, gave him power over women which he 
 undoubtedly possessed. 
 
 Outwardly he was of fair appearance as he was of fair 
 address, and fair abilities. Not brilliant by any means, 
 perhaps not even bright (although I have heard his 
 social talents extolled) and without any special gift, 
 yet he had an adroitness or aptitude for scheming. This 
 talent or mind for mere, shallow trickery I can not take 
 as anything great, nor think that he was anything but 
 an ordinary, worthless evil-doer, who was mainly success- 
 ful because my father's consideration and kindhearted- 
 ness disarmed him, his principal victim, as much as his 
 fairness and very fearlessness made him vulnerable. 
 
 But yet what a scoundrel ! To defraud, cheat and rob 
 his own parents! To scheme against my father from 
 childhood! To attempt my mother's destruction and 
 
 i6 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 mine ! To seduce the silly beauty my father married, and 
 afterwards make her leave my father, keeping her as an 
 everlasting threat, an impending possibility of robbing 
 my father of his children, at least of Cora, whom he 
 wrongly believed to be his child. At last the fulfillment 
 of the threat, Cora's leaving my father, broke his heart 
 and killed him! 
 
 Am I pleading my own case? 
 
 Yes, I shot him dead ! Years of my life in prison, have 
 I paid for it. Put me back in time, let it all happen again, 
 I should have to do it again. Had my father but lived ! 
 Had my father but lived! 
 
 Oh, father, father, father ! I should have killed him 
 sooner to save your life. That has often been the bitterest 
 thought of all. But you had to die that I could kill him. 
 Not in revenge, no ! But it was your death that wrought 
 me up to do the deed. 
 
 And now I must set down the story of my mother, 
 which forms but a short episode, as mine does a little 
 longer one, in that of my father's life. Some of it is only 
 explainable by remembering the then primitive state of 
 the whole West Coast, as good as uninhabited, without 
 modern means of intercommunication and hardly more 
 than the first beginnings of civilized public life. 
 
 To go to San Francisco my father and Richard Alanus 
 left the city of Mexico for the West Coast, to meet at a 
 certain harbor the mail-steamer which touched at diflfer- 
 ent ports on her trip from Panama to San Francisco. My 
 mother was to follow later. 
 
 She was a young Mexican. My father had made her 
 acquaintance not long before departing. She was just 
 entering upon womanhood. She had been to him as his 
 wife since the time they first met. He loved her dearly 
 
 17 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 and intended to marry her as soon as they were all set- 
 tled in San Francisco, where there would be no obstacle 
 through prejudice of class or creed or race. He knew 
 that she was bearing him a child that would be his first- 
 born. He would not, he never could desert any one de- 
 pendent on him. He left her with ample means of sup- 
 port till he should send for her. But despair seized her 
 on his departure, and, in company with a brother and an 
 old aunt, her only near relatives, shortly afterwards she 
 set out to follow him, hoping blindly to reach the coast 
 before my father had met a steamer. 
 
 She failed to find my father or any trace of him. 
 Probably, in her want of knowledge, she went wide of the 
 place to which he had gone. She had come to the sea- 
 board at a village where no steamer ever stopped. In a 
 small sailing-craft, scarcely more than an open boat, she 
 took passage with her companions, trying to reach a sea- 
 port more in touch with the world. Disastrous trip! 
 The boat was blown out to sea. The brother and the two 
 boatmen were washed overboard and drowned. My 
 mother and the aunt in the half-swamped craft were 
 picked up by a schooner trading along the Mexican coast 
 from port to port. It was going northward till it should 
 make steamer-connection with San Francisco at Mazat- 
 lan. But strange enough before they reached Mazatlan, 
 at some harbor-town, may be Manzanillo, there came on 
 board Richard Alanus. 
 
 He had embarked and gone with my father as far as 
 Mazatlan on board the mail-steamer. At that place, 
 during the few hours' stay there, he had secretly gone 
 ashore, letting the steamer depart without him. A mere 
 mistake or misunderstanding he claimed afterwards it 
 had been, hut it most certainly was another one of his 
 often so very silly schemes to annoy and distress my 
 father. He was forced to proceed on his way in all 
 the ]ierturl.ation and anxiety the discovery of Richard's 
 
 i8 
 
CHROXICLES OF MAXL'LL ALANUS 
 
 absence after the departure of the vessel occasioned 
 him. Nor did Richard follow in the next steamer. He 
 afterwards gave out that he had been persuaded to a trip 
 into the interior to look at some mining property and on 
 account of fever breaking out at Mazatlan had returned 
 to the coast at another place, where, going on board a 
 schooner just arrived to see about securing passage in 
 her to some place in Upper California if not to San Fran- 
 cisco itself, he met my mother. 
 
 To her he pretended that he had been left behind by my 
 father, who, somehow informed of her coming, had com- 
 missioned him to look for her and bring her on to San 
 Francisco. 
 
 Afraid of his life to stay on the fever-infested coast, 
 news of the fever spreading down the coast having been 
 received, he arranged to charter the schooner to leave im- 
 mediately, and which was to take them direct to San 
 Francisco. 
 
 My mother had no acquaintance with Richard Alanus 
 any more than knowing who he was. She, of course, 
 was overjoyed at his appearance, more yet at his com- 
 munications and representations, and she was only too 
 willing to let him have the main part of the money in her 
 possession to perfect his arrangements for the voyage with 
 the master of the schooner. She now felt herself lifted 
 out of her despair and placed securely under the pro- 
 tection of one who would safely bring her to my father 
 and with fair prospects of reaching him before the birth 
 of the child. 
 
 But new sufferings were in store for her, nothing but 
 sufferings. The old aunt, never having recovered from the 
 terrible hours of exposure in the open boat, died when 
 they were barely out of sight of her native land. Not 
 lonsf after Richard began to show himself in his true 
 colors. Soon my mother had to defend herself at night 
 with the weapon she always carried, against his brutal 
 
 19 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 advances. Then came storm and shipwreck. Somewhere 
 on the bare stretch of sunburnt coast, north of San 
 Diego, they were cast away. The vessel went to pieces 
 in the breakers. All perished but my mother and Richard 
 Alanus. They gained the beach alive. And on that 
 desert strand after robbing her of the few trinkets and 
 pieces of jewelry and the little remaining money she had 
 on her person, he left her exhausted nearly to insen- 
 sibility. And in case of her recovering, he tried to inflict 
 a foul hurt to make death probable to two lives. Thus 
 he left my mother and ultimately he reached San Fran- 
 cisco safe and sound with the account of the shipwreck 
 and the lie of my mother's death, delivering to my father 
 as proofs, the small, gold crucifix worn by my mother on 
 her breast and the ring of troth, given her by my father, 
 neither of which, he was persuaded, she would have 
 parted with while she lived. 
 
 My mother was found by some natives who had been 
 attracted to the place by the wreckage. They started to 
 conduct her to their camp, a little distance inland on a 
 creek, which emptied into the sea round the nearest bluff. 
 But she soon, in premature labor, sank to the ground. 
 And there in the hot sand, near the lapping edge of the 
 tumbling sea, some of the squaws assisting, I was born. 
 My mother and I were afterwards brought to the camp 
 where we remained till I was about two years old. I 
 grew up with the native children, like them, I suppose, 
 digging for shellfish in the mud-banks of the shallow 
 creek, wading in the surf, hanging onto the ponies, run- 
 ning with the dogs and catching grasshoppers on the mesa. 
 
 When Richard Alanus poured that drug down my 
 throat and it first took effect, bringing on that hellish 
 dream that for years after was to be the bane of my 
 sleep, there appeared to me in the fire of the dream, like a 
 picture, a stretch of sea-coast which was, I always believe, 
 the spot near the native camp where I was born — a sandy 
 
 20 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 beach along the dazzHng surf, bending in a gentle sweep 
 to a rocky point at either end. A bank of yellow, clayish 
 rock facing the sea, rose from the beach to a slightly 
 curving and much broken top, the edge of the mesa. It 
 was a wavy plain of dry grass and brush, dotted with 
 clumps of live oaks, dark and round-topped, extending 
 back to a range of bare, drab-colored hills, hardly standing 
 out from the m.ore distant mountains which were all faint 
 and pale in misty haze and thickenings of fog here and 
 
 there. . 
 
 Perhaps something happened there some time m those 
 first years of my life : a grass-fire along the edge of the 
 mesa, a fire of driftwood on the beach, a burning ship 
 near the shore or, rarest of all a thunderstorm, somethmg 
 that lent its form and color to the working of the drug. 
 But I remember no such occurrence. 
 
 Still I have a recollection of the camp: a few hutlike 
 windbreaks of driftwood, dry brush and grass on an easy 
 slope of ground behind the swelling bluff. It was set 
 with scattered bushes and trees. There was a break in 
 the clay-bank, opening toward the ocean, where the waters 
 of a little creek during the rainy season came winding 
 round and spreading thinly over the sand of the beach 
 and ran into the sea. . 
 
 :^Iy mother was verv ill after ni)- birth and remained 
 lame and at times more than half blind, although her eyes 
 showed no sign of disease. 
 
 The only, only part of her my memory retains is her 
 
 mild, brown eyes! 
 
 One day a white man with his pack on his back came 
 to the camp. He was a miner who had been prospecting 
 for gold far south, back of San Diego, an Englishman 
 named Thomson. He was without much means, but 
 he took my mother and me from the natives and brought 
 us first to one place, then another, an old Califor- 
 nian ^Mission where I was baptized. From place to place, 
 
 21 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 remaining longer and shorter here and there, finally we 
 reached San Francisco. He wanted to fully espouse our 
 cause, find my father and make him right my mother 
 and me. 
 
 It was not pity he took on us, it was not kindness of 
 heart he felt, nor was it mercenary speculation. It was 
 the conceit of doing something very laudable, very right, 
 very chivalric. He was always doing what was right. He 
 always knew what was right. 
 
 He was a man of preconceived ideas, or rather of first 
 ideas, first impressions. As he first saw a thing so he 
 understood it to be and brought to his reasoning, not 
 knowledge, but remembrance of something he had once 
 read or learned or heard, and nothing could change his 
 opinions once formed. 
 
 He knew just enough Spanish to misunderstand three 
 fourths of our story. It was conventional enough to 
 suit his mind which never could grasp anything else, 
 and he never come to understand the story differently. 
 Richard Alanus was to him my father. He had misun- 
 derstood it to be so at first and Richard remained to 
 him my father to his last hour. He found me, I sup- 
 pose, a silent little brat with questioning eyes and quiet, 
 self-contained ways, and put me down as secretive, 
 crafty, false, and such to him I always was. Of course, 
 without him I might never have been anything but a 
 Californian half-breed, living and dying a hanger-on to 
 somebody at some place in the Southern part of the 
 State. But on the other hand, when he took me away 
 from the Mexican children's troupe, he did what makes 
 us even. 
 
 In San Francisco it was easy enough for him to find 
 Richard Alanus but beyond that he never advanced. 
 My mother was now steadily confined to her bed, her 
 eyes altogether sightless, though never losing their mild 
 beauty. Thomson did all the housework for us. He 
 
 22 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 was constantly in straitened circumstances, in fact 
 without any money at all except what he received in well 
 calculated insufficiency from Richard. 
 
 My father was at the time about to marry, and to 
 Richard the whole affair was the most delightful game 
 he ever played. Nothing was easier for him than to fool 
 Thompson and keep that blockhead from ever com- 
 municating with other persons. And if my mother would 
 only live a little while longer, till after the wedding, what 
 an opportunity he would then have to enjoy the trouble, 
 torment, pain and unhappiness he could have created 
 for my father. But while he was giving all his attention 
 to my father's marriage and had gone for some weeks 
 to my father's countryplace in the upper Santa Clara 
 valley, where the nuptials were to take place, my mother 
 died. When he returned to town he found her buried. 
 Thomson, dead broke, had gone to some new gold- 
 diggings. The child, who was then perhaps three years 
 old, was not to be found, in all probability he thought 
 had been taken along by Thomson. 
 
 My father's wife! She was little Harry's, my brother's, 
 mother and when I meet him I will tear all this out of 
 my brain and think of her only as his mother. 
 
 But was she not Cora's mother as well? 
 
 What deceits were practised to bring about this mar- 
 riage I cannot at all think. Still my father must have 
 been in love with her too. 
 
 She was a young woman of great prettiness of face 
 and figure, of good birth and very poor. She was not 
 without a certain ladylike manner, or perhaps, it should 
 rather be called a natural gracefulness of motion, ges- 
 tures, posture. She had very little heart. To me it 
 is often difficult to believe such a state possible. When 
 she came where my father lay dying in my arms, his 
 head on my shoulder, his hand to my cheek to touch 
 the face his breaking eye could no longer see, all she did 
 
 23 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 was to smile and say: '*Does he not die hard!" When 
 Harry, Httle mite of a thing, only just able to walk, had 
 his foot crushed and thereby lost his leg, while he was 
 trying to rise, being such a brave little fellow, struggling, 
 bleeding, her own baby, she laughed, because it looked 
 so funny. 
 
 Yet she was not cruel. That time, in the room where 
 Richard Alanus had me captive, in the house where the 
 guilty pair used to have their secret meetings, she would 
 not take the cane to beat me when he urged her to do so. 
 Cora did. Cora was cruel. But she was not cruel. 
 
 She was a silly, babyish person, ignorant of almost 
 everything and without understanding and judgment or 
 even ordinary or moral sense. But she was not immod- 
 est. And she had talent for music. She did not know a 
 note but she sung by ear sweetly and correctly and accom- 
 panied herself tastefully on various instruments without 
 ever having received any instruction. In speaking, how- 
 ever, her voice sounded harsh and screechy. 
 
 Her beauty and her shapeliness! Her graceful way! 
 Her pretty singing! What more? She was poor. She 
 had a dismal home. Her stepfather was a lawyer of the 
 dissolute type of this country ; her stepmother, his third 
 of fourth wife was a vulgar, jealous woman who treated 
 her most meanly. I think the first step toward falHng 
 in love with her was the pity my father felt for her. 
 
 Richard Alanus had boasted of receiving her favor be- 
 fore her marriage and she gave birth to a daughter not 
 six months after she had wedded my father. But not 
 even then did my father suspect her, and fond as he was 
 of children, especially girls, what joy to him was this baby- 
 girl, Cora. She had the silkiest of blond hair, the frank- 
 est of pale, gray eyes and the loveliest of pouting mouths. 
 Any illusion he had about his wife soon vanished and he 
 saw that he had been blind, had blindly deceived himself, 
 that the woman he was married to could not make him 
 
 24 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 happy in any possible way. Yet not Ijlaming her, not 
 blaming any other one, true to his nature he took all the 
 blame upon himself, trying not to let her suffer for his 
 mistake, trying to give her at least what comfort and 
 pleasure of life he could provide, indulging her, trusting 
 her and caring for her now, on Cora's account perhaps 
 more than ever before. 
 
 When he had been married several years a rumor came 
 to him, vague and untraceable, that my mother had not 
 perished in the shipwreck, but that she had died at one 
 of the old Mission-places on the coast giving birth to a 
 boy and that the child was living somewhere near his 
 birthplace. Upon hearing this he immediately proceed- 
 ed on a trip of inquiry down the coast. At almost the 
 first place he visited, he found with the name of the 
 mother, Manuela Eguren and his own name as that of the 
 father, the record of the date of the birth and the baptism 
 of a boy named for father and mother : Manuel Enrique 
 Egueren y Alanus, my name, his son's. 
 
 Further inquiry among the native population of the 
 neighborhood brought forth but little additional informa- 
 tion. My mother has stayed quite a w^hile there. She 
 has been very ill, but her death has not taken place 
 there. Her little son had been known to have five, little, 
 brown birthmark-spots in a peculiar cluster on the right 
 hip. She had come to the place under the protection of a 
 man with a big, red beard and an ugly, scarred eyebrow, 
 an Englishman, and they have all gone away to the city, to 
 San Francisco, years ago. 
 
 As soon as he returned to San Francisco, my father 
 began searching for his wife and child. But according to 
 his nature he could confide his secret to but few. At best 
 it was an awkward matter which might lead to family 
 discord and his losing Cora. But try to find us, he must 
 and take care of us and see to his child's future, that was 
 his duty. 
 
 25 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 He did not make Richard his confidant. Never had 
 he been that to him. But as this first rumor must have 
 been started by Richard, so as on every occasion v^hen he 
 could do anything to give pain to the tenderest heart he 
 did so now. If only indirectly he still misled, gave false 
 clews, started wrong reports, raised hopes one day to 
 destroy them the next; and it was undoubtedly he who 
 made my father discover what seemed to be on the best 
 of evidence that I had died a miserable death from want 
 and neglect among the rag-pickers on the dumps. 
 
 At that time Richard had prepared to strike his last, 
 great blow : the embezzlements of large sums of money 
 belonging to the firm, which he knew my father would 
 take upon himself to make good. And he farther planned 
 to elope with my father's wife, carrying off Cora with 
 her. It was all to descend on my father at once. But 
 the plan failed. And although no case in law could be, or 
 at least ever was made out against Richard, and he con- 
 tinued to live in the city established in some business 
 of his own, the breach with my father and the disrup- 
 tion of the former business-relations were complete. My 
 father became sole head of the reorganized business. 
 Cora and her mother remained with him, and Richard 
 was for once worsted. It was a collection-business that 
 Richard went into, and many times have I been told that 
 he made a very good collector and would have done well 
 as such, only that he never could keep straight, always 
 must be crooked in all his dealings. 
 
 Never quite free from a homesick melancholy, unhappy 
 in his married life, afflicted by the last, irremediable break 
 with his halfbrother and mourning in bitter grief and 
 self-reproach my and my mother's death, my father now 
 would have days when even his blind love and devotion to 
 Cora could not lift the pall of sorrow from his soul. 
 Outside of business and business-hours he would seclude 
 himself, keep awav from home and friends and by him- 
 
 26 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 self stroll the lowlier streets of the older parts of the 
 town, as if to lose himself among the commoner people 
 there, mostly foreign-born, where nobody would know 
 him, and where his fondness for children could be given 
 plenty of play among the shoals of little ones, where he 
 could make friends with some who pleased him most. 
 But he was always soon moving on, shy of observation. 
 
 If there was any lingering hope in him that I was 
 alive and that he might yet come across me, he was un- 
 conscious of it. And when he did meet me, there was 
 nothing within him or without, no recognition of the 
 little though not striking likeness to my mother, no asso- 
 ciation of my, if slight, still evident olive tint of tropical 
 blood, of my age, my name, my language, characteristics 
 that he knew were his son's, to suggest to him who I was. 
 
 To be sure I was small for my age. It was only in 
 prison that I grew to middle height. I was thin. At 
 this time I passed for from one to two years younger 
 than I was and often was wondered at for my strength 
 and endurance. And when asked who my father was, 
 I always named Jim, the bricklayer, whom all we children 
 in the house called father, although I knew very well that 
 he was not my real father. And of my name I knew but 
 Manuel. Still the very fact of my knowing no other 
 name of mine but that, might have led to its being no- 
 ticed and given rise to a combination of ideas. 
 
 But if my father did not make the discovery himself 
 it would have been disclosed to him in time. And even 
 if it had not been made at all, he would have taken me 
 to him, his affection for me increasing on seeing my 
 child-attachment to him growing so strong. He had al- 
 ready selected a place for me to have as a home where I 
 could grow up under better conditions of life, when that 
 destroyer of both our lives stepped in again between us. 
 
 To go back a little with my story, I had been given by 
 Thomson upon his departure into the charge of a Mexican 
 
 27 
 
CHROXICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 woman, Adelita, with whom he had a passing acquaint- 
 ance. From whose rooms, baclv of the old jail, upon 
 her dying suddenly, almost immediately afterwards, i 
 was taken by her sister, the Dark Woman, to her home 
 with Jim, the bricklayer in the wooden hovel on the nar- 
 row alley, somewhere off Pacific street, above Stockton 
 or Powell street. She already had her three, or perhaps 
 four sets of children, by different former husbands and 
 all we children were employed all the time in foraging 
 for firewood and kitchen-supplies, chiefly amongst the 
 Italian vegetable-gardeners and fishermen who seemed to 
 be old-time acquaintances of the Dark Woman. 
 
 W^hen Jim, the bricklayer, had deserted her and us 
 children, I was taken, together with the eldest girl, the 
 oldest one of all the children, by her father, Antonio, an 
 Italian vegetable-man to his gardens or fields somewhere 
 outside the city, where there were many windmills, 
 and where I had to work so hard and learned so much of 
 gardening work, even small as I was, that I afterwards 
 found it easy to acquire good skill in the handicraft. 
 
 From Antonio I came, I never remembered how, but 
 1 believe by simple transfer, to Nick and Nello, the two 
 Spanish boatmen and fishermen on the old, long wharf 
 reaching far out over the waters of the bay, with a branch 
 extending still farther. Fishermen and boatmen they 
 were in name only. They never went out in them but 
 kept a few boats for rent by the hour or day. Neither 
 did they ever do any fishing, but merely kept fishing tackle 
 for hire and sold bait to people who came, principally on 
 Sundays, to angle for perch and smelt. They also kept 
 hoop-nets with meat tied in them, to let to those who 
 wanted to fish for crabs. I was made to fish for crabs 
 for them to sell, and I always cooked some of our meals 
 as well. Nick might sometimes give a look if I had at- 
 tended to the nets and was keeping them well mended, but 
 
 28 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 Nello did not even do that. He was lazy. They were 
 both lazy and shiftless. 
 
 And on the old wharf, work-boy for those two men, 
 my father came upon me. 
 
 Later when he told it, years later in the happy, happy 
 days that were to end so soon, when he had me with 
 him when he could revel in the recollection of that 
 sweet, short time, he felt certain he could fix the very 
 day he first saw me and would indulge hmiself m the 
 remembrance of every detail of it: One of the beautiful 
 days so plentiful in most parts of Califorma, so rare in 
 San Francisco, when everything seems to stand rapt m the 
 crystal stillness of the air and the silent, thronging sun- 
 shine; a Sunday after the heavy, later rains of the sea- 
 son when every one is out of doors, he had come strolling 
 as far as the old, long wharf where he found many people 
 fishing, some looking on, others watching parties in the 
 boats on the quietlv gliding water, or at distant ships at 
 anchor, others whollv idle, lounging in the sun. ihere 
 were so many he could be sure of being able to mmgle 
 with them unobserved. He immediately became inter- 
 ested in the doings of a small boy whose services seemed 
 to be in great demand by all the crowd which was densest 
 in a neighborhood of a little shanty built on the wharf 
 where a side-wharf branched off at an angle. Calls 
 came- "Boy! Boy! Manuel!" from all quarters without 
 intermission, demanding fishing rods to let with tackle 
 and bait. He would fix the bait, receive the money, run 
 with it to a man who seemed to be the master and was 
 sitting on a short bench alongside the open door of the 
 shanty, smoking a clay pipe, get the change from him 
 and run with it to the customers, change the rods, fix the 
 returned-ones afresh, run at the call of an angler to take 
 a landed fish off the hook and bait the hook anew for him, 
 haul up the hoopnets to take out the crabs ; let down the 
 nets again and run with the crabs in a basket to another 
 
 29 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 man who also seemed to be master and sat inside the 
 shanty on a chair with his feet up on the cook-stove 
 smoking a wooden pipe! 
 
 Behind the shanty there was a space with an open shed, 
 like a yard, only not fenced in, extending to the end of the 
 wharf. There were boatsteps quite at the end and davits. 
 And here was more work for the boy : climbing down the 
 steps to receive an incoming boat, tie the painter, wipe 
 the thwarts, collect the fare in advance from the next 
 boating party, fetch the change, push her off, then to come 
 up the steps and go right away down again, to go sculling 
 in a boat to pick up a hat fallen overboard ; to change the 
 oars in another boat and put cushions on the seats for a 
 large boating party of ladies and children as well as men ; 
 carry down their heavy lunchbasket and very carefully a 
 little baby-girl with all her frocks and capes nearly as big 
 as herself ; up and down the steps scores of times, till my 
 father thought the short legs, though looking firmly 
 enough built, must give out. His heart took pity on the 
 boy, of course, at once, more since the boy seemed to be 
 really willing and in his silent way obliging, answering 
 promptly every call, trying conscientiously to satisfy 
 everybody and doing patiently all that the people wanted 
 sometimes over and over again, and not with halfhearted- 
 ness, nor with obtrusion, but with a sort of modebt eager- 
 ness, in spite of his sullen looks ! 
 
 Even with the bigger young fellows, of whom there 
 were a good many, hanging chiefly round the boatsteps, 
 wrangling and fooling and apparently always on the point 
 of a serious quarrel, the small boy managed to get along, 
 he minding them but little. Only once there was a little 
 disturbance. A big boy had grabbed the little fellow's 
 hat and thrown it from him till it came near going over- 
 board, when another boy, not quite so big as the first 
 one and younger looking but quite large, finely grown, 
 
 30 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 broad-shouldered and very handsome, all pink and white 
 came forward shouting to the first one: 
 
 "Pick up that hat! Hand it back now! Now, if you 
 don't want your damned head punched, you leave that 
 kid alone!" 
 
 The other one had handed back the hat, saying some- 
 thing of having been only funning. And then it was 
 
 all over. 
 
 In the middle of the afternoon this brisk business 
 slackened. The people began to leave. First several, then 
 more and more till but a few stragglers remained. But 
 before sundown all had gone except my father, who 
 standing, half hiding by a spile-head of the side-wharf, 
 still watched the boy in whose work there was even yet no 
 let-up. He now had to go down into the boats, scrub and 
 wash tliem out and bring them up to the davits, clear and 
 hook the tackles and help to hoist them up, pulling, hang- 
 ing to the tackle-falls with his small weight, coming up in 
 the boats from the water. The two men, after the hoist- 
 ing, went back into the shanty, their share of the day's 
 work being done, leaving the boy to draw, the plugs, let 
 the water out of the boats, bring in the oars and coil up 
 the gear. After that he had to carry all the fishing rods 
 from their outside stands into the shed, haul up and clean 
 and hang up the nets, tidy up and sweep the yard and the 
 place in front of the shanty. And when all this was done 
 and he had washed himself in a tin basin on a shelf just 
 inside the shed, and nothing more seemed possibly neces- 
 sary for him to do, he hitched himself to a little wagon 
 with a sort of harness over his shoulders and under his 
 arms and went the whole length of the wharf to fetch two 
 buckets full of drinking-water from a liverystable near 
 the foot of the wharf. H:e went on a half-run, but came 
 back at a slow pace, so as not to spill the water. One 
 bucket he handed in to the men in the shanty, the other he 
 took into the open shed. 
 
 31 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 He then put up his wagon in the shed and came and 
 sat himself down quietly on the bench by the closed door 
 of the shanty in the darkening of the evening. 
 
 He sat there so long, so still, gradually fading into a 
 mere blotch of shadow, my father thought sometimes he 
 must have slipped away unseen by him, or gone to sleep, 
 only that once in a long while he saw his head move a 
 little against the yellow line of light gleaming through 
 the chink of the door. 
 
 And night had fallen quite clear and calm. Stars glit- 
 tered in the sky down to the black hills all around, and 
 joined the many lights in the city across the dark and 
 faintly glistening water. 
 
 My father was wondering what the boy might be think- 
 ing of, and whether he had noticed him and was specu- 
 lating about the men as he was about the boy; and if the 
 boy was not unhappy sometimes, and if something could 
 not be done to make him happy, if he was unhappy; and 
 if one of the men in the shanty was his father, which he 
 thought very improbable, or who and where his father 
 might be ; or if he had no father and mother, like himself. 
 
 And his thoughts went back to the time when he had 
 been a boy like this one on the small peasant farm in Tus- 
 cany, and a man had come to see him several times and 
 had been very kind to him, and at last had taken him away 
 with him to be his father. And in the loneliness of his 
 soul he felt again as he had done from time to time 
 almost all his life and lately, oftener than ever, that it 
 might have been better had he been left with the poor 
 peasant-people and grown up to be a poor hard-working 
 peasant himself. 
 
 At last the door of the shanty opened, letting out a 
 great burst of light, and one of the men handed the boy 
 a tin-pan, the light shining on it, saying, **Here ! That is 
 all there is left!" And the door had closed again, leav- 
 ing it so dark my father could not see the boy at all 
 
 32 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 for a little time till he caught sight of him moving, going 
 to the rear of the shanty. And he had an attack of bold- 
 ness to follow him as far as the yard-place. There he 
 heard him in the shed hanging up a tin dipper or some 
 vessel like that, as if he had been drinking some water. 
 Presently he came into the open again and saw my father 
 standing there, close by. 
 
 He did not seem in the least afraid or to think it 
 strange that somebody should be there but stood indiffer- 
 ent, looking up a moment at the Evening Star, then at its 
 brightest, and at its blurred reflection on the eddying 
 water below, and then at the stars above, and around, as 
 if comparing it to some of them. 
 
 Then my father plucked up more boldness and spoke 
 to him, saying that he must be tired. But being nervous 
 at his own boldness, he spoke indistinctly, and the boy 
 merely turned his head a little as if not understanding 
 or not sure of having been spoken to and did not answer. 
 This so abashed my father it took him some seconds to 
 recover till he could very meekly ask, "Are you hungry ?" 
 And the boy very simply answered, "Yes!" 
 
 Just at that moment the boy was called by the men 
 to wash the supper-dishes, which he started to do right 
 away in a large tin pan on the bench in the light of the 
 open door of the shanty, while my father, anger in his 
 heart with the men and filled with sore pity for the boy, 
 hurried off ashore to buy at the nearest places he found 
 open some fruit and bread and two hard-boiled eggs, all he 
 could get, and some slices of boiled ham, and went back to 
 give it to the boy. But hurry as he would, it took so long 
 to get it and the distance was so great, that when he came 
 out again to the shanty, all within and without was silence 
 and darkness. 
 
 He laid the package on the bench where the boy 
 might find it the first thing in the morning, feeling sure 
 that he would be the first one up and out. But it came to 
 
 33 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 him that if he put the things in the wagon it would be 
 more clear that they were to be the boy's. So he went 
 to the yard and into the shed, feeling cautiously with his 
 feet for the wagon. He came against some boat-sails 
 lying stowed away in one corner, and stretching out his 
 arm to keep from falling, laid his open hand right on the 
 boy's head. For this was the boy's sleeping place 
 
 Such a sensation of joyous satisfaction came to my 
 father, he almost sat down squarely on the boy and only 
 just managed to clear him by a little. But the boy was 
 as before not in the least startled, though awakened and 
 sitting up immediately, onlv asked, very simply again, 
 "What is it?" 
 
 My father told him that he was the man who had 
 spoken to him a little while ago and that he had brought 
 him something to eat as he had said that he was hungry. 
 And he felt for the boy's arms and put the paperbag 
 with the things in his hands. 
 
 "Is this mine?" asked the boy. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 "Mine, alone?" 
 
 "Yes, yours alone! Nobody's but yours. I bought it 
 with my money and brought it to you because you are 
 hungry. I give it to you to eat. Now eat!" 
 
 And the boy commenced to eat without another word. 
 My father grew quite bold in the utter darkness with the 
 bov alone, and putting his hand on his head, stroked his 
 hair and neck. And thus feeling how greedily the child 
 was eating, he told him not to eat so fast, that it was not 
 eood to do so, but to take his time and chew his food well ; 
 nobody should take the things away from him. 
 
 The boy at the word slackened speed at once and ate 
 slowly but never stopped till the last morsel was eaten. 
 My father, now perfectly brazen, kept his hand to the 
 boy's head all the time. He ran his fingers through his 
 hair, felt of his little ear, rubbed them against his cheek 
 
 34 
 
CHRONICLES OF MAXUEL ALANUS 
 
 and chin and held the back of them to his warm, soft 
 throat, to feel the light, quick beating of his blood, the 
 little fellow not minding it at all. But whenever my father 
 stopped still he stopped still too for a little while as if 
 waiting and then moved his face just the least bit against 
 his hand, almost like nudging him to go on, because he 
 liked it. 
 
 ''Are you still hungry?" asked my father, when there 
 was no more to eat. 
 
 "N-no !" 
 
 ''Could you eat more if you had it?" 
 
 "It will do!" 
 
 This, to be sure, made my father feel very miserable. 
 
 "I am sorry I did not get more," he said most 
 penitently. "But I can go for more. Some place will be 
 open." And he moved to rise. 
 
 But the boy said, "No! It was plenty enough!" adding 
 with something queer of softness, "Much obliged!" lay- 
 ing back his head then. 
 
 "Now are you going to sleep ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Won't you shake hands and say good night?" 
 
 "Good night !" 
 
 But it was like a shock when my father's hand had 
 come to the little hand in the dark, to feel the palm so 
 horny hard. He never forgot it. 
 
 The next time my father came to the old wharf, the 
 next Sunday, it made him smile at himself in his humor- 
 ous self-observation, how he felt as if the boy, when he 
 saw him, must know him, and quite snubbed and set back 
 when he found himself a blank to him. And from what 
 he observed, watching pretty closely, he was not able to 
 conclude that the boy was at all starved or badly treated, 
 or anything but well and contented. Certainly he was 
 sparing of speech and otherwise too, in a way noiseless 
 that was not like most boys, but this clearly came by no 
 
 35 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 means from dejection, nor was there, as far as my father 
 could see, any trace of ill-humor about him, rather some- 
 thing of self-restraint that might be the result of some 
 previous training. And though small, he was yet appar- 
 ently as strong as he showed himself to be nimble, and 
 well able to do his work. He was quick to see what was 
 wanted, in fact understanding well how to do it ; and if 
 at times hard-run, at others he had at least fifteen minutes 
 duration to rest himself if he wanted to. He must feel 
 little need of it for he would at such times still busy him- 
 self in many ways or among the boys do some tumbling 
 tricks after the fashion of boys when a circus has been in 
 town. At this he seemed by general consent, to be re- 
 garded as being one of the best. And these things he 
 would scarcely have done had he been worked to utter 
 weariness. For all of which reasons the small chap, I am 
 afraid, proved rather a disappointment to my dear father 
 that day, prepared as he had come to pity him. 
 
 The brisk business of the somewhat raw day was over 
 early and the boy before dark in full sight of him re- 
 ceived an ample supper. My dear father must have felt 
 disappointed at not being able to please himself with ex- 
 pending his sympathy on the boy and I am almost certain 
 he had already in his pocket some food to give him. He 
 was predisposed in favor of the child and trying very hard 
 to keep him in his good graces, managed to find enough 
 pleasure to outbalance all his 'lisappointment and to 
 restore himself to most of his own good opniion. 
 
 One thing was sure, if tlie boy was of silent ways he 
 was very alert and especially quick, my father thought 
 with all his seriousness, to notice anything that was 
 humorous, comical, ridiculous, things happening among so 
 many people constantly. Another thing was, if he had 
 many what must be classed as soft spots, if he showed 
 that he was conscientious, if he appeared modest, thought- 
 ful of others and considerate, at least he was not bashful, 
 
 36 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 not shy of people and diffident. And that, with my father, 
 made up for almost any shortcomings. 
 
 More than once during the afternoon my father had 
 tried to get nearer to the boy to observe him closer, 
 even if he did not wish to speak to him before so many 
 people. Now, toward evening after his early supper, he 
 came to where my father was sitting on the stringer of 
 the sidewharf, and there, watching the last boat out with 
 a load of boys fooling who were all but capisizing the boat 
 in trying to pick up a spilled oar, he stood quite a long time 
 so close by, my father could follow the moving of his body 
 with his breathing. And my fatlier took notice that he 
 was straight-grown and clean-looking, even though he was 
 meanly dressed, wearing nothing but an old gray, very 
 washed-out, flannel shirt, unbuttoned round the throat, 
 without neckerchief. His trowsers were grayish blue, 
 turned up at the ankles and lashed, dago-fashion, round 
 the waist with an old faded-out, red, silk sash, the ends 
 hanging down on the sides. A shapeless, soft, brown 
 hat was pushed back on his head, and shoes worn through 
 showing the naked feet. His complexion was a very clear, 
 light olive without any color except the very red lips. 
 
 And now my father could see also that his looks were 
 not at all sullen as they had appeared to him at a dis- 
 tance but only just earnest with a shade of anxiousness 
 that my father could understand only too well, showing 
 that the boy took things to heart and felt responsibilities. 
 And whether it was this or some other expression, some 
 resemblance, the reflexion unconsciously seen of his own 
 self or whatever it was, still my father was so struck 
 v/ith the boy's whole appearance, bearing, looks that the 
 image of him as he stood there, gazing steadfastly at the 
 far-off boat, not minding nor regarding the man observing 
 him so intently never afterwards left his mind. 
 
 Presently that large, handsome, pink and white boy, 
 Mahon, came along and sung out in his fine, ringing 
 
 37 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 voice: "Halloh, you little wharfrat ! who has been bully- 
 ing you now ? Just say it now ! I am just spoiling for a 
 fight now. You little wharfrat! Wharfrat! I would 
 not be a wharfrat. I would rather be a waterrat. Wharf - 
 rats can't swim. You can't swim. You think you can 
 but you can't. Can you?" And at the first sound the 
 little one had turned and stood like one transfixed, his 
 cheeks flushing, his eyes sparkling, smiling at the big 
 fellow, and as if all trembling with gladness at seeing 
 him, and with afifection, till my father's heart, that had 
 been drawn to him from the first, seeing now the feeling 
 he unawares shov\ed, went out to him en.tirely. 
 
 Coming after this to the old wharf every Sunday, and 
 still finding no opportunity to get into any intercourse 
 or acquaintance with the boy my father thought of trying 
 what a weekday would do. He left his business at noon 
 one day and going to the place in a roundabout way over 
 a stretch of clear beach of the bay-shore, and walking 
 along the water's edge to get to the foot of the wharfs he 
 suddenly, around a sandy knoll, came face to face with 
 the small chap, harnessed to his wagon, going to pick 
 up driftwood to take home and saw up for firewood. 
 
 If the meeting had not been so unexpected and sudden, 
 perhaps it would have passed without consequence, but 
 my father thus surprised into stopping and speaking, 
 and without knowing why he did so, addressed him in 
 Spanish. Upon this the boy scrutinized him most serious- 
 Iv and searchingly, perhaps trying at the same time to 
 recognize the voice, or detect something familiar in my 
 father's accosting that made him think he must know him. 
 But he answered straightforward enough, speaking Span- 
 ish quite as his mother-tongue, but as if he did not know 
 the man and that the man would presently discover that 
 he had been mistaken in him. 
 
 My father told him that he would help him gather 
 wood and would draw his wagon for him, which to the 
 
 38 
 
CHRONICLES OF MAAWEL ALAKUS 
 
 boy seemed a funny proposition, or meant to be funny, 
 for the smallest little smile flickered for a moment round 
 his lips. But upon my father's proceeding to unharness 
 him he grew serious again at once and that grave look 
 came back into his face. Gazing earnestly into my father's 
 eyes as if to find out what the man wanted to do, 
 the man was at great pains to explain that he meant no 
 harm but just what he said. He told him that he had some 
 lunch too, in his pockets, some sandwiches and oranges 
 which he should have to eat as soon as they came to a 
 good place to sit down beyond the point ahead. The men- 
 tioning of the lunch did not altogether have the expected 
 effect, the boy continuing grave for some time longer, 
 simply answering the questions my father asked and 
 eying him, not as if afraid or suspicious but very open- 
 ly, frankly trying to understand what was meant by this 
 unusual treatment. 
 
 My father kept on drawing the wagon and picked up 
 every stick of wood they came to and took those the boy 
 picked up and stowed them all snugly, which businesslike 
 proceeding reassured the boy somewhat. And when they 
 came behind the point where nobody could see them. 
 my father bade the boy sit down in the warm, dry sand 
 and he sat down beside him and gave him the promised 
 oranges and sandwiches. And then, to be sure, the little 
 fellow was ready enough to eat. And my father noticed 
 with a peculiar kind of pleased feeling that he ate as 
 slowly as that night in the shed after he had told him not 
 to eat too fast. 
 
 While he ate my father started to talk, knowing, it 
 would seem, just what the boy liked to hear: all about 
 animals, seagulls, porpoises and so forth. Then he told 
 a funny story about a dog wanting to catch a crab and 
 using his tail for a line, which brought a broad smile 
 into the sober little face, seeing which, my father, to 
 follow up his success, worked hard with another funny 
 
 39 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 story and did not rest till he had brought out another, 
 broader smile and finally yet another so bright he could 
 not wish for any brighter, making the child look very 
 different. He began to show such simple lighthearted- 
 ness that my father hated to do anything to make him 
 serious again but still he could not help asking him some 
 questions about himself. 
 
 His name was ]\Ianuel, a thing my father kne\v already. 
 He had no other name. He was born in Mexico, the boy 
 told him, but he was not a Mexican. He was a German. 
 His father was Jim. Jim was also from Mexico. He 
 did not know where Jim was now. Yes ! he liked Mahon. 
 Mahon was very strong. Mahon lived with his father, 
 his real father. He was a brewery-man. That there was 
 the chimney of his brewery. His name was Mr. Tern 
 Oldock. He liked him too. He had given him wood. 
 Not now, but when he was with Jim, a long, long time 
 ago. Now he had no wood to give ; he was a brewery- 
 man now. He did not know how old he was. And his 
 mother was dead ; his real mother. 
 
 In speaking Spanish the boy would once in a while use 
 an Italian word. On my father's giving the right Spanish 
 word, he would after that employ it and not forget it 
 again, which gave my father that same complacent feeling 
 as before when he noticed his eating slowly. He was 
 sorry though to find that the boy did not know Italian, 
 only those few words. He understood it pretty well 
 when my father spoke it. But he would not even attempt 
 to speak it : and Spanish seemed by far the language he 
 knew best, his English being quite faulty. It thus ap- 
 peared that he had at present to speak more English than 
 Spanish. 
 
 All this dry business-talk over, my father began some 
 little tricks to make life a merrier affair again. He 
 twisted his hands and fingers together to produce all 
 sorts of shadow pictures in the white sunshine on the 
 
 40 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 sand, heads of animals that moved and that the boy 
 quickly recognized. He whistled and laughed at the 
 same time. That was real fun. The boy could not do it 
 at all. The more he tried the more it made him laugh. 
 How the man loved to hear the boy laugh. 
 
 And at the wind-up, it turned out that deep down at 
 the bottom of one of the pockets of the man's coat there 
 was a harmonica that was to the boy's. Indeed, I am 
 pretty sure, this was not the first present for the boy 
 that his pocket had held, if it was the first one given. I 
 doubt not but that every Sunday after the first one some 
 little present was brought to be carried back ungiven. 
 But the Sunday before, m.y father had noticed the boy 
 listening very longingly, he thouglit, to one of the bigger 
 boys hanging around the boatsteps playing such an in- 
 strument. And, now, here was one larger, finer, better 
 every way. But the little fellow seemed almost incapable 
 of realizing that it was to be his. Perhaps he had received 
 fev/ presents before this time, and never before such 
 a fine one, and he did not altogether know how to take 
 it. He blew in it, very softly, just once and put it inside 
 the bosom of his shirt as if to hide it. but soon he took 
 it out again, seemingly to hand it back, blushing as if he 
 had done something mean. He stood with it in his hand, 
 watching my father's every feature to catch each little 
 sign of confirmation of the truth of the thing, not trust- 
 ing his ears apparently as my dear father made one procla- 
 mation after the other that this instrument was to be his. 
 truly his, absolutely his, till at last persuaded to try and 
 play. When once playing, he forgot everything, the giver 
 of the gift, the gift in the enjoyment, first breathing into 
 the instrument all round and then starting ofif plaving, he 
 held it as that boy did the last Sunday, between his half- 
 closed hands, and played a tune that boy had played, but 
 infinitely, my father thought prettier : after that he played 
 other tunes! street-songs of the day, pieces my father 
 
 41 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 whistled or hummed, anything so readily my father felt 
 sure he must often have played such an instrument before. 
 But the boy shook his head without stopping his tune. 
 All the way back he made music. And when they parted 
 at the foot of the wharf, my father stood and listened 
 to the strains growing fainter as the child went toiling 
 on his way with his wagon out the long wharf. 
 
 Two, three times a week the boy had to go to pick 
 up wood on the beach of the bay. Other days were un- 
 certain, but Friday was the day he always went. And 
 the next Friday when my father came to the place there 
 was the small chap with a big smile and the harmonica. 
 And they did their work together quickly, and the boy got 
 his lunch and they had some more tricks and little 
 games and stories and talk and music, the boy playing 
 without roughness or noisiness but with a gentleness 
 which was entirely to my father's taste. 
 
 And the Friday after, the little fellow had evidently 
 been expecting him, for being first on the ground, as 
 soon as my father hove in sight, he started as if to run 
 to him. But he checked himself, dropped to sitting on his 
 feet on his bent knees, stuck his hands well into the sand, 
 to keep them down. His face was as glowing as any 
 that ever greeted Mahon, as he lifted it up to my father 
 to be taken between his hands. 
 
 One day my father bought him a pair of boots. He 
 had artfully drawn out of him his secret longing to 
 have a pair of boots. So he took him to the nearest 
 shoe store, and there they found the very boots he had 
 wished for ; tall, up to the knees almost, plain, without any 
 fancy stitching, copper-toed and low-heeled with heel- 
 plates. They fitted to perfection. It was wonderful ; 
 everything just as if they had been specially ordered. And 
 when he had them on and my father had turned up the 
 trousers, double treble to near the top, was it not fine? He 
 walked by my father's side looking down at the boots 
 
 42 
 
CHROXJCLBS OF MAXUEL ALAKUS 
 
 and then smiling np in the man's face, and down again 
 at the boots and up again smiling in my father's eyes, 
 crowding closer to him little by little till he could 
 touch his cheek to the man's sleeve. 
 
 There came a day when m)' father made the acquaint- 
 ance of Mahon. They liked each other very much. That 
 day he had given the little one a knife, a very splendid 
 knife with I don't know how many blades, and he 
 now told him to give that knife to Mahon, and he, 
 my father, would give him another knife just like this 
 one the next time they met. The boy did as he was 
 told, but I suspect not without a pang. For the knife 
 certainly was a beauty, and the chances of there being 
 two such knives in this world must surely have seemed 
 to the boy to be small. He grew quite red handing it to 
 ]\Iahon. who hesitated a moment before taking it, under- 
 standing, I am convinced, the whole case and knowing 
 better than my father what a self-denial he was demanding 
 of the child. But the knife was too splendid. Mahon 
 could not resist taking it. 
 
 When my father did come the next time, the next 
 day on a special trip, and he held out his closed hand 
 with the knife in it, the boy blushed so hard and looked 
 so guilty, my father had to smile at him and said: 
 "You thought I should not keep my word, did you 
 not?" The boy gave a self-confessing nod, and there 
 was about him so much part forbearance-asking and 
 part relief wnth such a glow of childish, glad expec- 
 tancy, affection, happiness and some archness, as if he 
 had well known all along that he could trustfully leave 
 everything to the man, his friend, and it would all come 
 out all right, it so moved my father, he could hardly 
 speak. He began accusing himself of wrong-doing in 
 first giving a thing and then taking it away. He excused 
 himself to the boy by stating he had not known if he 
 
 43 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 should see Malion again soon, and all but begging the 
 boy's forgiveness as he handed him the knife. 
 
 Once my father did not come for two Fridays. Some- 
 thing prevented him. Nor did he come the Sunday be- 
 tween. But when he did come the third Friday, the boy 
 was as if beside himself. He must have thought he 
 had lost his friend and would never see him any more. 
 The outbreak of his joy was so great it overcame all his 
 self-restraint. They met beyond the sandy point. The 
 boy was standing with his wagon, looking towards the 
 hill where in the distance a man was walking across some 
 empty building lots. Surely he was thinking of his friend 
 when he heard the light crunching of some one coming, 
 stepping through the sand. And when he turned, there 
 stood my father holding out to him his hands, speechless 
 with happiness to see the boy again. How the boy tore 
 off his harness and made a rush, throwing himself down 
 at the man's feet, clasping his legs, pressmg his face to 
 his knees, hugging and rocking, almost upsetting the man 
 and overcoming him as much as he \\'as overcome him- 
 self. 
 
 On rare, clear, moonlight nights, my father would 
 go out to the end of the wharf and finding the little 
 chap awake and about, as was usually the case, and hav- 
 ing him there alone all to himself in the stillness and 
 magic half-light of the night, he would give way to all 
 the tenderness pent up in his heart, and the child for 
 the first time in his life came to learn what it was to 
 be treated fondly, the sweetness of which to him was 
 such that the longing for it never left his breast after. 
 
 Of all this, what I remem.ber, it is natural, is inter- 
 woven with what my father told me so as to make each 
 undistinguishable from the other. Yet my remembrance 
 of many points is quite distinct. At Five Oaks in the 
 weeks and months of homesickness, the old wharf 
 with its surroundings was ever in my mind, and there 
 
 44 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 were not many nights when before falHng asleep I would 
 not abandon myself to the sweet anguish of calling up the 
 lost past that came crowding in upon me. Before every 
 thought was that of that man, my friend, whose loving 
 eyes were looking at me from every point, whose voice 
 was in my ears resaying all his kind words, thus fixing 
 in my memory what otherwise must have been forgotten 
 by one so very young. 
 
 I remember all about the knife and most distinctly 
 our first meeting on the sandy stretch of the bay-shore. 
 I knew that I knew him, if I could only put him rightly 
 in my mind. He was to me what nobody ever had been 
 before, and yet it seemed that he was what I had always 
 longed for somebody to be. I remember his giving me 
 the beautiful, silver-mounted harmonica. Never could 
 I forget that. I had not known before how much I 
 craved an instrument like that to make music. And the 
 pleasure it gave me was everlasting. 
 
 Of our first meeting on the w^harf at night and in 
 the shed, I have no recollection, but of the last moon- 
 light night so little is forgotten that every similar night 
 brings it all back to me. I see the level top and the black, 
 square shadows of some bales of hay that had been left 
 discharged on the wharf. I feel my father's hands as he 
 lifted me up to lie on the hay and drew my head back, 
 down on his shoulder. And I see full in our faces the 
 round moon, low yet over the Contra Costa hills and her 
 long, broad lightway on tlie slowly moving water, and 
 the red light of the Oakland mole a little above. In be- 
 tween were thin layers of haze and smoke in long, level 
 streaks here and there. I yet seem to feel the very air, 
 without movement but with now and then a little cool, 
 and to hear in the quietude the distant, muffled bark- 
 ing of a dog ashore, and the dull, far-of¥ rumble of the 
 ferry-boats. I know I longed to have my arms round 
 my father as his were round me w^hen he took my 
 
 45 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 hands and put them to his face and drew me to his 
 breast. And I feel again the gentle straining of his 
 embrace, the caressing of his hand, the tender, linger- 
 ing touch of lips, as he kissed me, the kiss I knew 
 him by again after years of separation. 
 
 Motherless children, I know, are said to regard their 
 father, if he be any way qualified with something the same 
 kind of feeling that children under normal conditions 
 have for their mother. It seems but natural. Yet who 
 can tell? But what of children that, like me, never knew 
 a mother? 
 
 I can recall how I felt, as a son, towards my father, not 
 yet knowing him to be such. And what he was to me 
 from the first day, I have no word to give but the one 
 to me sweetest and dearest of all words : Father First 
 of all he was my friend to whom I could always turn, 
 and even when I was wrong he would still be my friend, 
 v>'ho would do all for the best and never fail me. I even 
 had a feeling as if he were constantly near by. And 
 when Richard Alanus had me by the throat, I know I 
 felt if I could only cry out, my father would hear and 
 come, and I should be saved. With this there was the 
 ever returning pleasure of his company, tfie sweetness of 
 his temper with not a grain of moroseness nor ill-humor, 
 the charm of his gentle, playful manner, his delightful 
 spirits with few signs of the sorrow hidden below ; and 
 in me the grateful feeling for his ever thoughtful kind- 
 ness of heart. 
 
 But beyond all this I felt towards him as some one I 
 belonged to ; yet more as some one that belonged to me, 
 and by natural right. When he spoke to m.e the first 
 word in Spanish there rose in me that, I remember, which 
 seemed as if it were something I had known since I could 
 think, and had been expecting all along. As he seemed 
 always to be anticipating my wishes and desires, so I 
 seemed always to know beforehand when he would come, 
 
 46 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 what he would do, how he would look, what he would say, 
 understanding all he thought and felt, almost as if I 
 were able to make him do whatever I wanted by just 
 thinking it. He was mine, and I loved him because he 
 was mine. On the other hand I liked to be told by him 
 what to do. and to do it. Certainly I had to obey. Some- 
 thing in me made me do it, I being not untractable at 
 my worst, for him I loved especially to do what he told 
 me to do, as I knew that he loved me. 
 
 What I did not understand in him at all was his 
 shyness. I felt our friendship was to be a secret 
 between us. That was all right. That, perhaps, only 
 made it truer and sweeter. Further, I could not com- 
 prehend his bashful ways, why he should always seem- 
 ingly be averse to being seen, observed, afraid of being 
 in people's way. 
 
 But his melancholy I understood, as I am not with- 
 out a touch of this Gothic spectre myself. And I felt 
 it most in him when he w^as showing me most how 
 dear I was to him. awakening in me a vague compas- 
 sion, as if I somehow must take care of him and be as 
 gentle and loving to him as he was to me. I watched 
 him with silent concern, till he would notice it and in 
 his playful manner with kindly joking drive all that 
 
 away. 
 
 How different was all this with Mahon ! Mahon 
 was to me a hero. I had no claim on him. He w^as a 
 biq- boy, far above me. who condescended to notice 
 me and' goodnaturedly tease me. He repaid my devoted 
 oltachment with taking my part against some of the ugly, 
 big fellows around our wliarf, lighting them and making 
 me fight too; teaching me to box. Of Mahon I could 
 think out stories, how he would come when I was being 
 abused by some big bully of a boy, throw off his coat and 
 pitch into my persecutor, and I returned the obligation 
 by saving him from drowning. This last I have been 
 
 47 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 told, but it has altogether gone out of my memory. Of 
 my father I could not think out stories like that. 
 
 As near as I can determine, my father's first visit 
 to our wharf and his first seeing me must have oc- 
 curred six, seven months before my abduction by 
 Richard Alanus. Much as my father from the very first 
 had been inclined to take me away from the place, to 
 make my life his care, he had found it no easy matter 
 to come to a conclusion about the plan to follow. Had he 
 seen me in any way ill-treated or in the least unhappy 
 he would have bought the consent of my masters, or 
 without it, have taken me from them and found a suit- 
 able place for me afterwards. But as it was, any one 
 having my welfare truly at heart might well have hesi- 
 tated. My future alone was the moving consideration. 
 For as far as the present was concerned, what could he 
 give for what he must take away? Could he have taken 
 me to his own house, it would have been different. But 
 to bring me to his home, such as it was, would be prepar- 
 ing but a sorry lot for me. Now that his desire to have 
 nie for his own had with his feeling for me grown so 
 strong he must give way to it and my attachment to him 
 discovered more and more at our every meeting, made his 
 wish to him a duty, it was still necessary to act with care 
 and consideration. Even if he had known that Richard 
 had become apprized of the increasing frequency of 
 his strolls to the old wharf, and was having him watched, 
 he could not have presumed that that meant the loss of 
 and mortal danger to me. He wanted to find me a home. 
 To put me in some boarding-school, or some instiution, 
 tliat was not his idea of showing his affection and return- 
 ing mine. He knew but too well how under the best con- 
 ditions in any change I would miss the freedom of my 
 present life. He was looking for a home for me, such 
 as he himself would have liked to have, to take me to, 
 and he had succeeded in finding a family willing to take 
 
 48 
 
CHRONICLES OF MAXUEL ALAXUS 
 
 charge of me, where there were two sons, one a little 
 older and the other a little younger than I. The family 
 of a physician, a Dr. Sullivan living near Gilroy, not far 
 from my father's country-pFace, seemed to answer all re- 
 quirements. He had just returned from the trip to Dr. 
 Sullivan's to close the negotiations when there come to 
 him, suddenly, proof unimpeachable of his son's existence, 
 his identity and abode : a living witness, Jim, the brick- 
 layer. 
 
 Some time not very long before this, Thoiuson had 
 returned to town for a short stay and had traced me 
 to Adelita's sister, the Dark Woman, who Avas Jim's wife. 
 She, however, had since died. And although Thomson 
 had come to find some of this woman's children and to 
 make some inquiries of them about me, he had not had 
 time to do more and had gone back to his minin.g claim 
 leaving the clew obtained, as far as it went, in the good 
 hands of the suppositious father, Richard Alanus. 
 
 Jim, having kept up off and on. a sort of intercourse 
 with his late Avife's children, had heard of inquiries 
 being- made, and being more familiar with the de- 
 ceased woman's aftairs than her children were, had 
 quickly enough traced me to Antonio, the Italian 
 gardener, and through him to my present living-place 
 on the old wharf, where he had gone the very day 
 after my father's last visit, on the last full-moon night. 
 He had seen me, recognized me, been recognized by 
 me, had conversed with me and knew, could swear 
 that I was the child that his wife at that time, had 
 brought home from the deathbed of her sister Adelita, 
 and the same child which had lived with them two 
 years or more : a male child, very small, very quiet 
 with five, little, brown birthmark-spots in a peculiar 
 cluster on the right hip, and with an astonishing ap- 
 petite and the reputation of being the love-child of a 
 
 49 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Mexican-Indian girl and a German banker and mining 
 man. 
 
 After locating the child, Jim had turned to the dis- 
 covery of the father whose name had been transmitted 
 to him by the children with enough corrections for him 
 to pick out my father as one of several who might 
 possibly be he. 
 
 And to my father he came and told his story. 
 
 It was not the first story my father had heard, will- 
 ing to listen, fearful to give way to hope, till he 
 learned which boy it was that was to be his son. With 
 the instant recognition of the truth all wonderment, all 
 speculation, all thought, everything was lost in the flood 
 of joy that broke in upon him. 
 
 That boy his boy, his son, his child! Unbearable 
 happiness ! 
 
 And when they came to the old wharf, he was told 
 that his boy was lost. 
 
 It seemed so impossible, it sounded like a stupid 
 joke, a trick. 
 
 But I was surely missing. This was the third day 
 now that nothing had been seen or heard of me. I 
 must have fallen overboard and been drowned. 
 
 Latterly my father had come oftener to our wharf, 
 sometimes evening after evening, at the close of business 
 1 ours. Both Nick and Nello had seen him, maybe 
 every time and had noticed, as they could not very well 
 help doing, that he had taken a fancy to me, as they called 
 it. And they now told him that they had suspected him 
 of being at the bottom of my disappearance. But 
 since he knew nothing about it what explanation could 
 be given, other than that I had fallen overboard and been 
 carried away by the tide and drowned. 
 
 Nello said that I always had been up to foolish 
 tricks, walking on my hands, turning summersaults, 
 throwing hand-springs. And lately I had taken to 
 
 50 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 prowling round nights too. He had heard me. And 
 he added in his peevish way that it was just their 
 hick, no sooner had they gotten me so far trained as 
 to be of some little use to them than I must go and 
 drown myself- Nick, always more fair and candid, 
 said I had always been of great use to them ; and if 
 I had got up nights it was probably because I felt 
 cold. It was cold in the open shed. He had even been 
 thinking about getting me a blanket. ]\Iaybe. I got up 
 to exercise, to warm myself and walked overboard in 
 the fog. It was foggy, fearfully fogg}', day and night, 
 ever since the night of tlie full of the moon : especially 
 the first night had been bad, and though I could swim 
 very well, the water would soon have chilled me. And 
 in the dark and the fog, I should not have been able to 
 lell where I was. At times the current was very swift 
 right there, so that they had about concluded to give up 
 the boat-letting altogether, as it was really dangerous to 
 go boating at this point. But the worst of all for me was, 
 lie said, that I never would cry out, or make a noise, or 
 call for help. I never did. 
 
 Neither one of them had any clear recollection when 
 he had last seen me. They had had supper quite early. 
 I had not been there then. They had left my supper 
 for me on the bench outside and had closed up and 
 turned in because it had been so chilly and damp. In 
 the morning my supper had been eaten, but may be 
 by the rats. 
 
 Nello had noticed Jim talking to me in the after- 
 noon of the day I was last seen, the day after the full- 
 moon night, and he now seemed disposed to look on 
 Jim with some suspicion, till Jim repeated his whole 
 conversation with me, telling, pointing out where he 
 first saw me the afternoon three days gone, where he 
 spoke to me, where he stood and where I stood, what he 
 said and what I said, assuring my father with tears in 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 his eyes that he had come to him just as soon as he possi- 
 bly could. 
 
 In the torture of his despair my father came to Mr. 
 Oldock's place to see Mahon, the only one he could 
 think of to go to, his lost boy's many times champion, 
 defender and heart's idol. And Mahon when he saw 
 my father's face knew him at once and exclaimed against 
 the probability of my having gone overboard and been 
 drowned, taking my part as it were, as any manly 
 boy would of another boy, saying I always knew what 
 I was doing and where I was going, and that I should 
 not be throwing hand-springs in the dead of the night 
 anyhow ; but that if I did go overboard I could swim 
 like a fish and should know by the trend of the tide 
 which v.-ay to strike out, having learned all that from 
 the Indians I had been amongst in Mexico, where I 
 came from. 
 
 But what had become of me? 
 
 Mr. Tem Oldock thought I had run away, he said. 
 And in his way he launched into telling my father all 
 he knew of me, recounting most circumstantially how 
 he had known me long ago, before he had started his 
 brewery, when he had been a contractor and builder, 
 and I had come with other children round his build- 
 ings to pick up chips and cuttings of wood ; how he 
 somehow had noticed me and taken a liking to me, 
 perhaps because I had been so small and so quiet, 
 hardly as big as my wood-sack, and silent as if dumb ; 
 but always strangely moved by any kindness. He re- 
 counted how he had sometimes taken me and my sack on 
 his wagon as far as the street-corner of the alley I lived 
 in, and had once taken me to his own house to show me to 
 his wife, Mahon's mother, who had liked me as much as 
 be had and had made liim bring me again. And if she 
 had not died, they might have taken me to live with them. 
 He had not seen me any more till a year or so ago, may- 
 
 52 
 
CIIROXICLES OF MAXUEL ALANUS 
 
 be two years, when happening one day to go out to the 
 end of the old wharf, where I had been working for the 
 two Spanish boatmen, I had been awfully gla dto see 
 him. It was funny to think that I could remember 
 him and be so glad to see him. But he had not seen 
 much of me as I had not come round the brewery 
 often, maybe being timid. 
 
 Hearing all this only increased my father's agony, 
 bringing me nearer and putting me farther away. Mr. 
 Tem Oldock told all this after his fashion, going over 
 the points he liked two, three times, not sensible at 
 all to the strangeness that my father with whom he 
 was slightly acquainted and whose position in life he 
 knew, should show such feeling for a missing street- 
 child. For such things he never had the least thought 
 or suspicion, always taking it for granted that people he 
 knew must know each other as well an.d must take the 
 same interest in and view of things that he did. But the 
 urgency of the case he well saw, even if he did not un- 
 derstand the case, nor understand there be a reason at 
 all, and as soon as the details of his narration would al- 
 low, he went to the point, denied louder than }dahon 
 the possibility that I, T that had saved Mahon, his son 
 ]\[ahon, Mark Tem Oldock out of the water, should be 
 drowned. "It could not be. It was an absurdity to think 
 i*. He had told ]\Iahon so the moment he had brought 
 him the news, two days ago. that Manuel, the little half- 
 breed Mexican on the old wharf was missing and supposed 
 to be drowned. It was nonsense. That was all right. 
 I had become disgusted with the way my two masters 
 had treated me and had left the place; that was all. 
 He had told Mahon before this, those two fellows 
 ought to be run out of town the way they worked me. 
 Two overgrown loafers to let themselves be supported 
 by a child ! Even their washing they had made me do. 
 That day when he had seen me, I had been down on 
 
 53 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 my marrow bones scrubbing their dirty overalls. I 
 had tired of the work and had left. That was all. 
 Or I had gone off with some other boys. But I would 
 soon come back. He knew how that was. That was 
 all right." And he would have gone on in this way 
 i{ Mahon had not interfered. Mahon felt a right and 
 spoke to undo most of his father's saying. 
 
 Mahon said, "he was sure I had not run away. And 
 my men never overworked or illtreated me. And I 
 was not afraid of them. I was not afraid of anybody 
 or anything. Some of the big fellows would some- 
 times try to bully me about the boats, and try to get me to 
 let them have my best pair of sculls without extra 
 charge, and of course I could not fight those big 
 fellows. But I could fight all right, and would fight 
 too, if I had to, though I was only a kid. And I had 
 nothing to do with other boys at all, but just him. I 
 just minded my own business. I had no time to loaf. 
 That was the reason I never came hanging round the 
 brewery and not because I was afraid. I was not 
 afraid. And I was very strong and anybody's match 
 of my size, if I did not just like fighting for hurting 
 anybody. Perhaps I had not always gotten enough to 
 eat. That he was not sure of. I never asked for any- 
 thing; but the boys said sometimes I had to go hungry. 
 He thought that generally I got plenty to eat, only 
 sometimes I had to go without. But I could stand that 
 for quite a little spell. I bad learned that too from the 
 Indians in Mexico where I came from. Some boys called 
 me an Indian. Anybody could see I was no Indian. He 
 had not even believed that I had lived among Indians, till 
 he had asked me and I had told him I had. But I 
 would not run away for being hungry once, or I should 
 have run away long ago." 
 
 And facing the question, "what then had become of 
 me?" he gave it in boyish hightening of a sensational 
 
 S4- 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 event, as his opinion "that I had been stolen," hitting 
 the truth. 
 
 At the time he was speaking I was being driven by 
 Richard Alanus with his team on the road from the steam- 
 boat-landing, away down in the big valley to the foothills 
 of the mountains. 1 had passed the night on a steamboat 
 plying from the city up the bay and river. I was disguised 
 as a Chinese boy and was in the company of a crowd of 
 Chinamen, who were going to do fruit-picking, or some 
 such work on farms or ranches in the great valley, 
 along the river. 
 
 That afternoon late, not long before Mahon could 
 have heard the sunset gun of one of the forts of the bay, 
 on tlie mountain height Richard made an attempt to 
 kill me. 
 
 And that night which my father passed in sleepless 
 agony, I made my escape from the log hut of the Black, 
 whom Richard had left me with. In the woods I lay 
 the night through at the bottom of the canyon on the 
 boulders close by the cliff, with the water trickling and 
 the moon shining from the clear sky on the glistening 
 rocks, as in the city through fitful rifts of flying fog it 
 shone on my father's wet face, as he looked at her, 
 thinking of the last clear night when he had held me in 
 his arms at the old wharf. I, too, felt a sudden pang, 
 before falling asleep, the old wharf coming to my mind 
 and the thought of him. 
 
 When my father found the record of my baptism 
 Richard's lies about my mother's fate vs^ere of course 
 disclosed to him. Plowever much Richard must have 
 managed to lie himself clear of any intentional wrong- 
 doing, and however much my father, even after still 
 further experience of his half-brother's treachery, may 
 have been disinclined to believe in all his baseness, it was 
 I'ot possible, since the idea of my being enticed away, 
 stolen, had once been entertained, not to consider Richard 
 
 55 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 IIjc possible instigator of the crime, if not the active felon. 
 The best detectives to be had in the place were employed 
 by my father without success, and all search for me prov- 
 ing unavailing, my death by drowning again seemed not 
 doubtful, and what little interest the case had excited, soon 
 died out. Who was there to take any interest? Not 
 many families lived along the shore near the wharf, 
 and among them I was known only by the children, i 
 belonged to no one. I was nobody's child, only a name- 
 less, homeless street boy, picked up by my masters to 
 work for them. 
 
 They missed me, I am sure of that. I had been a 
 faithful little slave to them. But they would get an- 
 other, now that I was gone. And what had become of me, 
 who cared? Nobody but he alone, whose hair in a 
 few weeks showed streaks of gray. 
 
 Oh, father ! My father ! My father ! 
 
 And not the sorrow alone, but the bitter self-accusa- 
 tion ! The remorse ! 
 
 He ought to have known! Ought to have seen, recog- 
 nized! And if not he should have taken me away any- 
 how ! But to have known me for months, to have gone 
 week after week, seeing me in the bondage of my drudg- 
 ery, becoming, one might say, an accessory to my two 
 masters in enslaving me, as told by ]\Ir. Tem Oldock, 
 to have had the cruelty of being kind to me, kindling regard 
 in me, affection, child-love for him, seeing and enjoying 
 his success with how great a gratification, and yet to have 
 let me at last, paying me oft', as it were, with a few paltry 
 presents, a pair of boots, a knife! What though I had 
 seemed, no, not seemed, been, so contented, leading such, 
 \i hard, a free and useful life, that nobody could lightly 
 think of breaking it up! Now life itself was gone! 
 
 And thus to have lost his own child ! 
 
 56 
 
CHROXICLES OF MAXUEL AEAXUS 
 
 A year passed and another. A boy was born to my 
 father whom it made his heart sadder to look at, thinking 
 h.e saw a resemblance to the lost one. 
 
 Sometime after the birth of the little brother, one 
 day in some business-transaction, my father met Mr. 
 Tern Oldock, of whom he had not seen anything for 
 a long time. When the business had been despatched, :\Ir. 
 Tem Oldock remembered and told him "he had queer news 
 for him. Did my father remember a little half-caste 
 boy, called Manuel, who used to live on an old wharf near 
 his old brewery, who one day had left the place and was 
 not seen any more, and everybody had said he had fallen 
 overboard and been drowned, everybody except Mv. Tem 
 Oldock, who had insisted it could not be? Well, that boy 
 he had seen in the mountains, four, five and more months 
 ago, may be nine or ten months. In fact that boy had 
 saved his life: the same as he had also, one time 
 hauled his son Mahon, Alahon ]^Iark Tem Oldock, out of 
 the water at the old wharf, years ago. Yes 1 Yes. but 
 for that boy he would not be sitting there now." 
 
 "He had been under a cloud since quite a while," 
 Mr. Tem Oldock said. "The brewery-business had 
 been given up, though the property still belonged to 
 him. ^It had been mostly family-trouble with his 
 second wife, Mahon's step-mother and her children by 
 a form.er husband. It had been other trouble, too. 
 But it was all right now. He was rid of them all. 
 It had cost him a good bit of money, but not more 
 than it was worth. And he had plenty now. And 
 Mahon was his only child and would have plenty too. 
 A couple of years hence, he would send him to Europe 
 and make a gentleman of him. That was all right." 
 
 "Well ! He had had to leave the city a year ago, or 
 a year and a half, or more, on account of his troubles 
 and had been in the mountains building roads, bridges, 
 flumes, mills. He had made a good deal of money. 
 
 57 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 He had got hold of a good deal of good mining-prop- 
 erty too. He supposed he was going to be a very rich 
 man some day. But it would have been all up with him 
 but for that boy. He must always think how his wife, 
 that was Mahon's mother that was dead, had liked that 
 little boy very much. He was small. And now he had 
 saved his life. He was not very big now, not much taller 
 than he was at the wharf." 
 
 **He had met him twice. It was at a place called 
 Purple Gulch. Some called it Purple Creek. Some 
 good mines were there, and some people had made 
 money there. But it was nothing to what it first was 
 cracked up to be. And the excitement about his had 
 all died out." 
 
 "Well, he had been building a road to the place, 
 and it had been just completed. And right where the 
 old road and the new road came together, at the end of 
 the town, one morning as he had been crossing the 
 road, the old road, in front of what was then a hotel, 
 called the Mountain House, early, before sunrise he 
 had come upon the boy unawares under some pines. The 
 boy seemed to have been camping with some horses and 
 was then looking for some water in the creek, to water 
 them. They had met right in the middle of the road, the 
 old road. And the boy had been so glad to see him that 
 he had bitten his hand. There ! That was the scar ! It 
 was funny to think the boy could be so glad to see him. 
 He had been so glad that he had been like mad. He had 
 thrown himself on his knees in the foot-deep dust of the 
 road and clutched him round the legs and cried and pulled 
 till he had almost made him fall. And when he had put 
 out his hand the boy had caught it to kiss it and in his ex- 
 citement had bitten it. There was the scar ! But when 
 he had told him he must not carry on so, and he 
 must appear not to know him, not come near him nor 
 mention his name, because there were parties after 
 
 58 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 him with attachments and garnishees on account of 
 his trouble in the city, the boy had understood right off 
 and stopped immediately. And when a man had 
 stepped out of the hotel and called the boy, the boy 
 had run to him and acted as though there were no 
 Mr. Tem Oldock in existence." 
 
 'Then he had not seen him again till many months 
 after, and then he had only seen him, had not spoken to 
 him. And that had been on the last day he was in 
 Purple Gulch, about five or six months ago, maybe less !" 
 
 "He had intended going away before, but did not. 
 He had gotten through with all his business ; his 
 money had all been sent down to the city. There had 
 been something, some trouble about something, well, about 
 a woman ; and a man had attacked him, and he had shot 
 the man in self-defence. Then a party of roughs had 
 gone out to lynch him if the ycould find him. He had been 
 hiding in pretty secure quarters, and handy too, but with 
 no chance to get away unless he got a horse which no 
 friends could procure for him, being spotted. And on 
 that day that boy, Manuel, had been at Purple Gulch again, 
 and how, he could not tell, but the boy must have found 
 out the fix he was in. Anyhow the boy again had some 
 horses with him and had ridden by the place where he 
 was hiding several times with the horses, so that 
 he would notice him. He had tied them conven- 
 iently and gone a bit in the bushes and them come 
 back and ridden away, leaving one of the horses be- 
 hind, tied where Mr. Tem Oldock could get at it. He 
 had got it and ridden away on it, a fine gelding that car- 
 ried him all the way to Sacramento. There he sold it 
 for fifty dollars." 
 
 Then in his way Mr. Tem Oldock went all over his 
 story again, beginning at the end and telling it a 
 second time and perhaps a third time, with repetitions 
 and explanations, how he had since stood trial and been 
 
 59 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 acquitted. He had no perception whatever of my father's 
 emotions, remembering only the mere fact that he had 
 shown some such interest, and to say "now had he not 
 been right in declaring it was nonsense to think I had 
 been drowned? I was not the boy to fall overboard and 
 drown. He would bet on my turning up all right every 
 time. He only wished he had me there with him now." 
 
 If they had but known it, while they were thus talking, 
 I must have been within a dozen blocks distance from 
 them, somewhere on the city-waterfront. 
 
 After my escape from the cabin of the Black came 
 my flight into the woods, the three days scramble down 
 the rocky canyon following the nearly dry bed of the 
 creek through the interminable mountain-forest, my ar- 
 rival in the open valley and my being picked up in the 
 brush of the foot-hills by the two farming men. Old 
 France and young Hants, had taken me to their place. 
 Five Oaks, on the hill. I had remained there on the farm 
 v\-ith them, working for them as I had worked for Nick 
 and Nello on the old wharf, or before that for Antonio 
 in his vegetable fields, yes, and before that for the Dark 
 Wom.an. Only I had now to work much harder and ir- 
 addition to my other work take my lessons with Old 
 France, who gave me most thoroughly all the school 
 teaching he could. For this and many other things I owe 
 the old German schoolmaster that he was, more gratitude 
 than I can, in truth say I feel. For what should I be 
 without them? He did not teach me enough English, pre- 
 ferring to make Spanish the language of my instruction, 
 since he was fairly master of it and accidentally in posses- 
 sion of some Spanish school books, but more than that and 
 for the principal reason, I suppose, that Spanish was the 
 language I knew best. 
 
 AVhen, about twelve months after I had come to 
 them. Young Hants broke with Old France, gave up 
 farming to go back to mining and left us to seek his 
 
 60 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 fortune in the new gold-diggings at Purple Gulch, he 
 borrowed me for the trip, to go there on my horse with 
 him, to bring back the pack-horse which carried Jiis 
 things. It was then that I met Mr. Tem Oldock at Pur- 
 ple Creek where I had arrived with Young Hants late at 
 night and slept with the horses under the pines while 
 Young Hants had spent the night at the hotel close by. 
 I had early got up to go across the road to the creek to 
 find a suitable place for watering the horses. Young 
 Hants started me back to Five Oaks that morning, hav- 
 ing made up his mind to keep the pack-horse, which was 
 a good work-horse and saddle-horse too, and I thereby 
 lost every chance to be met by Mr. Tem Oldock again at 
 that time. 
 
 Of course I have no intimate knowledge of the busi- 
 ness relations of the two men I was with at the ranch. 
 But I can be reasonably sure that they worked the farm 
 on share for the owner, the Boss we called him, who 
 lived at his beautiful place, Fountain Head, in the 
 upper foot-hills. All that section of the country belonged 
 to him, the large Fountain Head Ranch. Five Oaks was 
 only a very small corner of the estate. With the Boss, 
 Young Hants, before he went away, must have come to 
 some understanding about their affairs, for with his leav- 
 ing, our farming was practically at an end. Outside the 
 housework and some gardenwork Old France was good 
 for very little. And he grew more and more forgetful. 
 He and I continued to live together in our little house on 
 the hill. I slept in the outside, open room as before. 
 Young Hants's bunk, inside, was kept unoccupied, as 
 though he might come back any day, which I am sure Old 
 France expected at first confidently. If as time went on 
 less and less did he look forward to it still he never lost 
 all hope and at last clung to the idea with a kind of dull 
 despair. We cultivated our garden as before, v/e had 
 cur poultry as before, our cov/s. some hogs and horses. 
 
 6i 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 We had plenty of feed for all : oats and corn, beans and 
 carrots, wheat-hay and barley-hay in stacks, enough to 
 last till the rains would come and the new grass grow. 
 But with all this, we lived on our place as if on suffrage. 
 For any work that went beyond my little strength the Boss 
 had to send someone from Fountain Head. If Old 
 France had the use of Five Oaks and its products, as 
 far as he could make use of them, he had nothing to offer 
 in return and the Boss nothing to receive as his share, 
 except my work at Fountain Head, my labor in the gar- 
 den and grounds there, which the Boss now often called 
 for. 
 
 At my first visit to Fountain Head, some months 
 after my coming to Five Oaks, when Hants one Sun- 
 day had taken me to see the Boss and his fine place, 
 the Boss had learned that I was handy at garden-work 
 and conscientious in doing what I was told to do. He 
 had even since wanted my services. His great hobby 
 was the changing, enlarging and improving the grounds 
 around the dwelling house, all growing into a beautiful 
 park. He had some Chinamen constantly at work on it. 
 
 Hants had never entertained the proposition of giv- 
 ing me up to the Boss for any time or any work, want- 
 ing me badly enough to work himself, and for my own 
 sake, too, in kindly consideration for me. On that first 
 visit to the Boss I had shown a great reluctance to meeting 
 him and afterwards a strong disinclination to going there 
 again. However, since Hants had gone away there was 
 no more opposing the wishes of the Boss, and my trips 
 from Five Oaks to Fountain Head for one or two days 
 at a time or even longer to work, soon became frequent. 
 
 At one of these visits, some seven or eight months 
 after my going to Purple Gulch with Young Hants 
 and my meeting Mr. Tem Oldock there, the Boss gave 
 me a letter which had come for Hants. Instead of taking 
 it home to Five Oaks and giving it to Old France for 
 
 62 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 safe-keeping or further forwarding, as I was meant to 
 do, I put it in my hat, and on my own account, not saying 
 anything to anybody, rode oft" with it to Purple Gulch, 
 to bring it to Hants myself, llie real motive in my heart 
 was the irresistible desire to see Mr. Tem Oldock again. 
 
 How I learned Mr. Tem Oldock's predicament at that 
 time, I do not at all recall now. I remember being with 
 Hants and other men on the street in Purple Creek and 
 hearing them speak about his case. They seemed all 
 friendly to Mr. Tem Oldock but unable to help him. I 
 can dimly recall somebody mentioning to me the place 
 where Mr. Tem Oldock was hiding, or the vicinity, and 
 saying, he might get away if he had a horse, but having 
 no horse, he was sure to fall finally into the hands of the 
 roughs and be killed. At this I was seized with such fear 
 for him that I went to ask Young Hants most boldly to 
 let me take home the extra horse he had kept since he first 
 came to Purple Gulch, speaking so that he should think 
 I had been sent with the letter for the particular pur- 
 pose of fetching that horse. And he took it that way 
 and told me with more temper than I had ever yet 
 seen him display, "to take the horse and go to hell." It 
 was a fine halfblood gelding. Aly horse was perhaps 
 as speedy and had just as much bottom, but was not 
 fresh and it was a little light for a man of Mr. Tem Old- 
 ock's weight to go a long distance on. 
 
 I left the horse near Mr. Tem Oldock's hiding place 
 and I think I never doubted but what he now would 
 make his escape. Yet I never knew if he did until long 
 after. 
 
 When Hants came some months afterwards to Five 
 Oaks on his short farewell visit, before going away 
 for good, back East, I remember how glad I was he 
 did not speak about the horse, and yet I was most anxious 
 to hear him say something about Mr. Tem Oldock. I 
 felt that he must suspect what I had done. With Old 
 
 63 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 France I certainly never needed to be the least bit careful. 
 He never understood. When I had this time come 
 back from Purple Gulch, long after the middle of the 
 moonlight night, and made my appearance before him 
 early in the morning, he never knew but what I had 
 come direct from Fountain Head after a stay there 
 of a day longer. He was glad I had come back to do 
 the work of the place and to have my school-lessons 
 with him, that was all. The only thing he now cared 
 for and used up all his energy on, was this teaching 
 me, in which he very systematically proceeded and 
 continued. And I can say of myself that I was as eager 
 to learn as be was to teach. 
 
 However T must admit that I most loved my music, 
 singing the old man's songs, hymns and chorals and 
 longer pieces, now alone, now with him, taking the 
 second to his thin treble, or the first to his second ; play- 
 ing his old, repaired guitar, and a cheap mandolin Hants 
 had brought me one day from somewhere, perhaps from. 
 the Boss. This had been an unknown instrument to Old 
 France before. I learned to play the mandolin very 
 quickly ; and so did he. He was as musical as I, or more 
 so, and loved music as much as I did, and was well sat- 
 isfied to let me give up every idle moment to my music. 
 Only it was not to interfere with my other general lessons 
 as did my trips to Fountain Head for which reason Old 
 France heartily detested them. But he did not know 
 how to prevent them any more than I did. 
 
 Later, every Saturday morning I had to go to Foun- 
 tain Head and remain there till Sunday evening, w^ork- 
 ing in the grounds all the time it was daylight under 
 th€ personal supervision of the Boss. Sometimes though, 
 if there was some special work at Five Oaks, I would 
 quit work at Fountain Head on Saturday evening and 
 ride home, or, maybe, would not go up to Fountain Head 
 at all that week. Or on the other hand tlie Boss might 
 
 64 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 keep me one day longer, or two days, if he had some 
 new idea to carry out. 
 
 I never did care much for ornamental garden work, 
 although, most assuredly I always have liked work of 
 all kind. As for working on Sundays, it seems to me 
 I never had a Sunday when a child, never knew Sunday 
 but as a day for harder w^ork. Yet I knew it seemed 
 good to have a day of rest. And as all hands at Foun- 
 tain Head kept Sunday, even the Chinamen, it did not 
 seem quite fair that I alone must work. It felt lone- 
 some and I did not like to have the Boss round me so 
 contsantly, and not that he was ever rough with me. 
 He never gave me an unkind word, but I was not used 
 to being watched at my work. It was not necessary. 
 And the Boss knew that himself, only he was too fussy 
 to leave me alone. Or perhaps, being very good at that 
 kind of work himself he liked the instructing and teach- 
 ing of it to me, the same as Old France liked to instruct 
 in his line. And so he stayed with me at my work for 
 the gratification of this liking. 
 
 His way of wanting to be making fun all the time I 
 had soon come not to mind, though it was tiresome. 
 
 But all this was nothing compared with that other 
 feeling, that ever-present dread of meeting at Fountain 
 Head some time that strange man who had brought 
 me away from our old wharf, for did I not know that 
 he must be an acquaintance of the Boss? Had I not 
 seen them together? That morning when I had found 
 myself out of the canyon, clear of the mountain-woods 
 in the great open valley, at the foot of the hills where 
 the road came down, not half an hour before Hants 
 picked me up, had not he, that strange man, as I lay hid- 
 ing in the thicket, passed by me in his buggy, the same 
 buggy and the same horses with which he had taken me 
 into the mountains. There was another gentleman by his 
 side, talking in a high-pitched voice and laughing in a 
 
 65 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 peculiar way. And the first time I had come to Fountain 
 Head with Hants, had I not recognized in the Boss that 
 other gentleman, the same one with the high-pitched 
 voice and the peculiar laugh? Therefore must not the 
 two be acquainted? Must not that strange man at 
 that time have been visiting the Boss at Fountain 
 Head, in all reason going there directly after leaving 
 me with the Black at the log-hut on the mountain- 
 side? And if he had been visiting at Fountain Head 
 then, might he not come visiting there again an}'^ day 
 as did other acciuaintances of the Boss? 
 
 If I never w^as without the thought of meeting my 
 fate, never felt safe, always feeling myself to be under a 
 ban, always in the dread of seeing that man appear, it 
 was worse at Fountain Head, where any day round any 
 corner, from behind any bush, any tree, from any arriving 
 liorse or wagon he might come upon me. And my fears 
 ^vere a prophecy, for he did one Saturday night at Foun- 
 tain head step down in front of me. 
 
 That night, when three, four gentlemen, friends and 
 acquaintances of the Boss, coming from the city to 
 stay with him at his place for a few days' outing, arrived 
 late in the dark of the night, being fetched by the Boss 
 himself from the river-landing in his four-horse carry- 
 all, I recognized among them, by the light of the lantern 
 1 held myself, that man, my fate. It now had come what 
 I always had known, must happen some day and I fled 
 the place. Riding all night on my horse on the road 
 down the hills and through the great valley, I reached 
 at daybreak the steamboat-landing, boarded the next 
 down-boat and w^as landed that same day in the big 
 bay city. 
 
 Here for a time I gained my livelihood on the water- 
 front, principally by dishwashing and bootblacking, till 
 Captain Smidkins of the schooner Good Fellow took me 
 on board his vessel as ship's bov and cook's mate, to go 
 
 66 
 
CHRONICLES OF MAXUEL ALANUS 
 
 to the Southern coast. And when Air. Tern Olclock was 
 telHng his story to my father it must have been but shortly 
 after I had come to the city, passing my time on the water- 
 front, working by day and crying myself to sleep every 
 night with homesickness for the farm, for every animal, 
 every tree, the fields, the mountains, all the country, 
 all that I had had to leave and must now never go back 
 to again. 
 
 It was a foregone conclusion that any search for the 
 boy at Purple Gulch would be a failure. Some claims 
 there had paid well but were now worked out. Some 
 distance from the place, there were a few good mines, 
 among w^hicli, I believe was the claim of Hants, which 
 had passed into the hands of San Francisco capitalists 
 and were bemg w-orked to good advantage. But as to 
 the camp itself, it was dying ofif faster than it had 
 sprung into existence, like so many mining-towns in 
 California. Everybody was leaving or trying to get 
 away. Nobody had time to try to remember a boy of 
 whom nothing could be said except that he had been twice 
 in the place with some horses and that he looked some- 
 what the mixed breed he was. All search proved vain, 
 leaving in its fruitlessness my father in greater sorrow 
 than before. Before this, the boy had to him been dead. 
 He had from the first really never doubted but that he had 
 fallen overboard and been drowned ; and though always 
 mourned, alwavs remembered with tendcrest sorrow, vet 
 it was as for something dead and gone forever and al- 
 ready become only a memory. 
 
 Now to learn hat he was alive, but unattainable, what 
 new anguish ! Even if it was at the first moment a stroke 
 of life-giving joy to hear he was not dead, to think 
 that he should be living, may be close by and yet not to 
 be reached, that he might be in want, sufifering in distress 
 and yet not be helped, what new grief! It grew from 
 dav to day after the first flush of ioy and hope died awav 
 
 67 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 as it became in sober consciousness clear how small the 
 odds were, that he would be found ! 
 
 One main cause of the failure was, I am sure, that 
 Thomson was believed at that time to be responsible for 
 the boy's disappearance from the old wharf, and his 
 presence afterwards in the mining camp of Purple Gulch. 
 It must have seemed quite a clear case since Thomson 
 had tried to find the boy in the city, about the time the 
 boy had disappeared. Thomson was mining somev/here 
 in the foot-hills of the Sierra; the boy had been seen 
 at some new diggings in the foot-hills, just such a place 
 as would attract an old miner like Thomson. So all ener- 
 gies were concentrated to get on the tracks of Thomson 
 and instead of looking in the nearer neighborhood, search 
 was made in distant districts, where Thomson was sup- 
 posed to have mined in bygone times. 
 
 But this does not explain, and I cannot understand 
 why my faher did not go to Fountain Head. He was 
 with his detective in Purple Gulch. The road to that 
 place passed within not a great many miles of Fountain 
 Head. He knew it. Formerly he had not seldom been 
 at Fountain Head. He was well acquainted with the 
 Boss, better in fact than his brother was. Why then did 
 he not go there when on his way to and from Purple 
 Gulch when he was within a few miles of it. If he had 
 done so he must surely have heard some talk of the recent 
 flight of a half-breed boy and have discovered that boy's 
 identity. 
 
 But then, if he had gone there while I was at Five 
 Oaks, or even at the very time of his coming at Fountain 
 Head itself, I doubt if he would ever have gotten the 
 chance to speak to me, to tell me who he was and to 
 let himself to recognized by me. 
 
 The poison of the drug in my veins, the horrors it had 
 bred in me, the treatment at the hands of Richard Alanus, 
 the Black, and the dog, my flight at night in the woods ; 
 
 68 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 the clatter of the horse of the Black in pursuit in my 
 ears, after me, at my back, the three days in the wilds, and 
 the seeing again of Richard, it was all in me like 
 a delirium. The fire in my brain seemed always there. 
 Night after night in my dreams that distorted face would 
 appear to me as I had seen it over me, close to mine, or 
 the face of the Black with its horrible scars, or the mis- 
 shapen dog. I was ever on the watch. Every outcrop- 
 ping rock, every stump of a tree might hide one or the 
 other of my enemies. The rustling of birds or squirrels 
 under the dry brush might be them. 
 
 Hants had rigged me up a sort of bunk in the open 
 room at one end of the little house at Five Oaks, but at 
 first I never stayed there, and later only when I could get 
 the dogs to stay there with me, or in the wet season when 
 it rained at night. When I was sent to bed after my 
 evening-reading and our talk about the same, which I 
 would spin out as long as I could, asking innumerable 
 questions, I would go to my bunk, of course, and then 
 as soon as I saw the light in the house put out, I would 
 get up again and go and climb an old madrone tree, 
 standing at the head of the gully, where the road from 
 the Bottom came up. The long, twisting branches gave 
 me a good seat for a sleeping-place from which I could 
 drop into the underbrush at either side of the gulch to 
 escape. For the dizzzy spasms that came with my dream, 
 I had a piece of hayrope to tie myself with so I should not 
 fall out of my sleeping-seat. But sometimes when the 
 dream came, I would think I could not untie myself. 
 They were- on my track and I would pull and tear and 
 could not get myself loose. And waking up, wet with 
 sweat, my heart beating in my throat, I would imagine I 
 heard them, they were coming: the strange man, the 
 Black with his knife, and the dog. And I would listen, 
 the cold terrors shaking my skin, till I was sure I really 
 
 69 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 did hear something coming, creeping, crawHng, nearer, 
 nearer. 
 
 When I had learned to be at home on horseback, I 
 became quieted a Httle. I then slept in the haystack by 
 the corral, where I could always get one of the horses. 
 Hut the Sunday trip with Hants to Fountain Head where 
 in the Boss, 1 recognized the man I had seen in the 
 buggy witli Richard Alanus, threw me back again into 
 my former state of terror for a long time, till the heavy 
 rains had come, w hen the gullies all ran with w^ater, the 
 creeks were full, the roads were streams of sticky mire, 
 when the drab ground turned first brown, then purplish 
 black and then broke into the gi'een of the new grass and 
 the thousand kinds of new plants, when the distant hills 
 came out of the haze, the wooded heights above the hills 
 showed themselves nearer and the far-away crest of the 
 mountains shone white and sharp against the sky and sent 
 down a chilly air, and all seemed not what it had been 
 and nobody in it stirred abroad, I then felt more as- 
 sured of being safe. But even then, I ever was on the 
 watch. Only by surprise and suddenly, so that I should 
 have no time to act, could I have been caught and taken 
 alive by any stranger. Yes, had my father brought 
 Mahon along or his father, then he would have succeeded 
 in getting hold of me! And he might have hit on that 
 expedient. 
 
 Still what difference would it all have made, since I 
 was no longer there? I could not have been traced any 
 more than I could be found as it was. It would only have 
 been so much more harrowing to my father, for whom 
 another blow was preparing. 
 
 I did not arise in that narrow-mindedness which is the 
 good ground wherein suspicion flourishes, he had never 
 mistrusted his wife. She had for years been a good deal 
 away from him, staying in resorts of the seasons, with oc- 
 casional trips of travel interspersed. Cora often went 
 
 70 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 with the mother, who cared for her at such times as 
 lor a pretty doll. While my father was most occupied 
 with the search for me, my father's wife was away on a 
 more extended tour through the Southern part of the 
 United States, met and stayed with at certain places by 
 
 Richard. 
 
 It was shortly after their return that little Harry's foot 
 was cut and mangled in the knives of a mower in the 
 hay-field near the dwelling-house on my father's ranch. 
 And as a fearful thing it may be to say. never can I put 
 the thought out of my head that it was Cora wh ) pushed 
 the child into the machine. The foot had to be taken oft, 
 and Marry was yet hovering near death, when the mother 
 left him/left all and openly went to live with Richard 
 Alanus. 
 
 This was under Richard's direction for she did nothing 
 of herself. She cared not one way or the other. She 
 would stay with my father or leave him just as Richard 
 directed. I don't think she cared for my father less, or 
 for Richard more than anybody else. Richard had been 
 the first to seduce and direct her and had kept on doing so, 
 and by that had made her his dependent. In any case she 
 would have become the dependent of anybody that took 
 upon himself to seduce and direct her; the rest being 
 brought about and the details shaped by opportunity and 
 circumstances. 
 
 Richard never cared for her except as he could use 
 her against my father. Here was something by which 
 to dishonor him, wrong him and hurt him, who had all 
 but given his life, to keep wrong and hurt from that 
 
 devil. 
 
 As long as she remained with my father she commanded 
 his wealth. It was my father's money coming to Richard 
 through my father's wife, that paid for most of the lux- 
 uries Richard enjoyed, after their last breach, which 
 never could be mended. Why did she leave my father 
 
 71 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 now? Or why did not Richard forbid her to take that 
 step? 
 
 I think the reason was the discovery of her infidehty, 
 such a thing being final. And perhaps, being so, there 
 was nothing left for her to do better than to go to her 
 paramour; nor, being taken unawares, could he prevent 
 her. She tried to take Cora with her, but was foiled. 
 Yet 1 do not think she tried very hard. Nor do I think 
 that Richard at bottom cared more for his daughter than 
 for her mother. And Cora in my father's house was 
 something to fight about, to harass my father with, to 
 wring his heart with the fear of losing. For wlio that 
 knows the latitude given women's claims in law-courts 
 here could doubt the more than probability of the courts, 
 upon suit being brought at any time by the mother, giving 
 her possession of the daughter. So my father was left 
 in possession of Cora for the present. 
 
 The separation should have brought my father relief, 
 like the regaining of one's freedom! And I suppose it 
 did to a degree after a while at least. Only my father's 
 life had been so entirely one of self-sacrifice that without 
 it life seemed aimless. As we all, after every tear and 
 rent set ourselves to work to try and patch up our life 
 again and again, till the last day and the last hour to suit 
 the wants and cravings of our nature, so did my father 
 now put Cora in the place her mother had occupied be- 
 fore. At least she came into the place and he let it be 
 so. And, of course, it was all quite different from what 
 it had been. Cora he loved as the object of his fondness. 
 Her great power over him lay in her suffering him to 
 do so with just enough show of returning his fond affec- 
 tion, never too little, not too much, and like a trained 
 wanton, never quite denying him, never altogether satis- 
 fying him, nor making her caresses cheap, always keeping 
 something back with which she could, if need be, over- 
 
 72 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 whelm and subjugate him. And with all she was always 
 hating him ! 
 
 The other Cora was the child-woman, now in her 
 mother's place, indulged by her father as her mother had 
 been, and answering it not alone with indifference as her 
 mother had done, but with show of temper. Her mother 
 had not had that and her contemptuous airs her mother 
 was too simple a fool to know how to practise. And 
 even herein she knew her limit with perfect understand- 
 ing. If she was to be dressed stylishly and carry herself 
 proudly, travel on the train with her father on Monday 
 mornings from his country-place to town, to her school 
 in the city, and back on Friday niglits, be talked to on the 
 train by gentlemen and ladies, and talk back smartly, be 
 admired and receive all favor, all attention, it v.'as her 
 design for him to be proud of his little lady child That 
 he was not given to making a show of anything was his 
 fault. 
 
 She was at a boarding-school in the city. He lived at 
 his house on the ranch in the upper part of Santa Clara 
 Valley, coming to town to business on the train every 
 morning and returning in the afternoon. Sometimes, but 
 not often, he stayed in town over night at his city-resi- 
 dence near South Park, or at a hotel where he had rooms. 
 Every Friday afternoon he would call for Cora at her 
 school and take her to the ranch to stay till Monday 
 morning, when she would go back to town with him. 
 Decidedly there was a comfort in this way of life that 
 he had not known before. He had Cora now all to him- 
 self. She was not the silly thing her mother was. How 
 pleasant it was to make these trips with her ! How pretty 
 she looked ! How engagingly and yet not affectedly she 
 would talk to the gentlemen on the train, going to and 
 from their country-seats the same as he ! 
 
 Besides this he would call at her school every few days 
 to see her and once a week, may be, he would come with 
 
 73 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 bis carriage and take her for a ride through the park. 
 The trips on the train with all the more or less well ac- 
 quainted set of people that paid her so much attention, 
 she fully enjoyed. For the drives with my father, she 
 cared little ; and still less did she care for the Saturdays 
 and Sundays at the ranch, unless there were visitors or 
 visitings. Only, to be sure, there was always the pleasure 
 of persecuting and illtreating the gentle, little cripple, 
 Harry, doing things to him that yet make me set my 
 teeth. 
 
 Harry at the time of the accident had been about six- 
 teen months old. His leg had been cut off below the 
 knee. Contrary to all expectation he had recovered. He 
 wore a capping on his leg, into which was screwed a hard- 
 wood stick that was replaced by a new one whenever it 
 was worn down, or outgrown. He had been a very 
 small baby and his accident still further retarded his 
 growth. Afterwards he grew faster till he was of nor- 
 mal height. When he should have been grown he would, 
 of course, have better provision for his walking. But it 
 was astonishing how quick and nimble he was. He could 
 walk as straight and even and he could run as fast as if 
 had no wooden stick for a leg, and he never stumbled. 
 
 At this time there came over my father again the mood 
 that would seize him from time to time, as it had done 
 probably all his life and certainly since he had left home, 
 the mood that had preceded his first meeting witli me, 
 when he had for weeks given himself up to the silent 
 workings of his melancholy, secluding himself outside of 
 business, from people he knew, frequently by himself the 
 poorer streets of the town, shyly observant of people and 
 his little friends, the children. For three, four days he 
 would not go out to his ranch, not fetch Cora, but would 
 stay in town over Sunday, loitering about, oftenest along 
 the water front, as if something were telling him to watch 
 the shipping ; and day after day out to the old, long wharf 
 
 74 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 which was beginning to go to pieces. Piles and timbers 
 were rotting away in the ground where it was being 
 filled in with rocks and dirt that were steadily gain- 
 ing on the water. The planking was sprung and warped, 
 half-broken ends sticking up and hanging down, part- 
 twisted, only passable with carefully picked steps. And 
 it all deserted ! The shanty burnt down ! Every vestige 
 of it gone, nothing but the charred, square space of the 
 old wharf-planking marking the place where it had stood! 
 But part of the open shed was still standing, with some 
 boards broken away right in the corner where the old 
 boat-sails had lain stow^ed up, on which his boy used to 
 sleep, where he found him that first night, when he 
 brought him wherewith to still his hunger. 
 
 What an empty thing life now seemed to him, standing 
 there stretching out his hand, as he had done that night 
 and laid it on his boy's head as if blessing him! Always 
 thinking of him, the lost one ! Forever in dead despair ! 
 Not daring to hope, only thinking in grief and longing, 
 yearning, craving, not knowing that now, over the sea 
 his boy was coming to him, coming, sailing on the water 
 his eyes looked over, he standing as his boy had stood 
 that dav, looking steadfastly out far off! 
 
 I had gone many trips in the Good Fellow down the 
 coast and back. She generally carried lumber to South- 
 ern ports from the North. Finally, having gone on an ex- 
 ploring and prospecting voyage, she had been cast away 
 on an uninhabited island off the coast of Lower Cali- 
 fornia. She had been chartered by a party of seekers 
 for precious metals, mostly old CaHfornian miners, among 
 them unknown and unknowdng Thomson, who had started 
 from San Diego late in the season. No lives were lost 
 in the shipwreck. 
 
 After having been on the island nearly a month, all 
 provisions being gone and no precious metals found, we 
 had been rescued bv a South-bound coaster and carried 
 
 / 3 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 nearly as far as Cape San Lucas, where we had met and 
 been transferred to the mail steamer Colima that took us 
 to San Francisco. 
 
 On board the Colima was the troupe of Mexican chil- 
 dren forming an operatic company under the directorship 
 and management of the formerly quite celebrated Mexi- 
 can songstress, Clara Unda y Mozon, whose own children, 
 Carmen, Lopeto, Guadalupe, Ramon and Benito formed 
 the nucleus of the company. Carmen and Lopeto were 
 in every way the unapproached stars and leaders of the 
 whole. And among them I was on the second day of our 
 meeting on board the Colima enrolled, having attached 
 myself to the children from the first moment I had seen 
 them in such a spontaneous, irresistible manner that I be- 
 came completely, willingly, helplessly absorbed in them. 
 Naturally it had first been ascertained upon trial that I 
 was very musical, very good of voice, perfect of ear, 
 while in reading and understanding music and knowing 
 how to sing, I was, thanks to the teachings of Old France, 
 more than the equal of the other children, always except- 
 ing Carmen and Lopeto. 
 
 Thus, dressed in a cast-off suit of Lopeto, I came ashore 
 in San Francisco a member of the Mexican Infantile 
 Opera Company, feeling among so many almost secure 
 from detection by anybody, and being too happy in my 
 surroundings, too occupied with my new life to feel more 
 than a passing pain at parting from Captain Smidkins of 
 the lost schooner. Without any legal hold on me, but 
 wishing me to stay with him very much, he counseled me 
 not to leave him, promising to pay me wages; saying he 
 would make a man of me if I would sail with him again; 
 and there was another schooner ready for him. He was 
 always good at promising. 
 
 But my die was cast. To give up the children's com- 
 pany would have been to give up life almost. Always 
 fond of children and always hungering for their compan- 
 
 76 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ionship, how little had I known of any intercourse with 
 any children, in free equality. Sometimes for months, for 
 years not seeing a child, children's pla;^ was unknown 
 to me. Now it all had come to me, my mates all children 
 like me, our work all play. Though certainly the ban was 
 still on me. 
 
 A week or thereabouts after our arrival, at our first 
 appearance in the old music-hall on Montgomery street, 
 my father saw me. 
 
 He had come solely to see the children. He had 
 come alone. Cora he would bring another time. And 
 he had been charmed, as always all people were, by the 
 marvelous talent, as singers and actors, of Lopeto and 
 Carmen and their natural beauty, grace and sweetness, 
 so that at first he had hardly had senses for anybody or 
 anything else, till toward the end of the first act his eyes 
 suddenly beheld his boy. 
 
 He did not move. His eyes encountered the boy's. 
 He saw him start. In a moment he was hidden behind 
 the other children. 
 
 At once it came to my father like a revelation : Richard ! 
 Their likeness ! It was the resemblance to his half-brother 
 that the boy had seen in him. And all doubts and sus- 
 picions ever held, became realities. Richard had been the 
 one to get the boy away from the wharf. How had he 
 done it, what treatment had he subjected the child to? It 
 must have been cruel or it could not have been Richard. 
 And the boy, seeing the likeness, shrank from him in 
 (iread. It was the proof that it was the boy. Not that he 
 reeded any proof. He had known him at the first glance. 
 He knew him every part : his figure, his walk, his gestures, 
 sll were the same, all as natural as ever. Actor he was 
 none, and he wore like all the children no paint. The 
 same clean look was about him. The eyes, his mother's 
 eyes! He did not even seem much grown, but in every- 
 thiig just like the little boy he had left on the old wharf 
 
 77 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 m the moonlight night for a few days, the days now- 
 grown to years. 
 
 1 think I can follow my dear father in my mind, bat- 
 tling with his emotion, not to let it overcome the consid- 
 eration dne the boy, who must always remain the first 
 object of tenderest thought fulness, schooling himself not 
 to let his joy get the best of him, and to take care not 
 to come too suddenly and brusquely upon him, not to give 
 him more fright than could possibly he helped. 
 
 Nor should he expect Ihat the boy would recognize him 
 lit first, nor feel sore if he did not remember him at all, 
 nor show it, if it did hurt, as it might. Naturally after 
 the years of separation and the probably numerous, 
 rough experiences gone through, the boy at best could 
 remember him but indistinctly ; how much less then with 
 trie likeness of Richard obliterating and supplanting in 
 him the original. He must let the boy see him a few 
 times, without his apparently seeing or noticing the boy, 
 so as to let him perceive the difference and find out by 
 himself that my father was not the man he resembled. 
 The voice might tell and the gray hair. Though the gray 
 hair might be more cause for not recognizing him. Or 
 if all care would not avail to quickly free him from alarm 
 and apprehension, Mahon must be called in and Mr. 
 Tem Oldock! 
 
 All this in the few seconds till the curtain had fallen and 
 he had gone out into the lobby, where before, on enter- 
 ing, he had noticed in and about the ticket-office some 
 people that looked as if they might belong to the manage- 
 ment of the company. Among them he now saw Don 
 Lope, the husband of our directress, the father of Lopeto 
 and the others, who must be one of the principal mana- 
 gers, he was sure. Hesitate, of course he must as he 
 always did, or pause, at least to look about him, take his 
 bearings, note who was the likeliest man to address. Then 
 he accosted Don Lope, intn^lucing himself, offering his 
 
 78 
 
CHROXICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 services, if such be needed and mentioning his former resi- 
 dence in Mexico, where he had as he but just remembered, 
 often been dehghted by the singing of a lady, at that time 
 one of the principal ornaments of the Mexican stage and 
 by the name that stood at the head of this children's opera- 
 company. It was also borne by several of the children 
 themselves, two of whom were the most wonderful per- 
 formers for their age, he had ever met. 
 
 There was a question of an exchange or draft wherein 
 such services as my father offered were very acceptable ; 
 but even without that, access behind the scenes with us 
 was so easily obtained, it could be had by such as my 
 father at all times for the asking. Before he had rightly 
 prepared himself, he was ushered onto the stage and in- 
 troduced to our lady Una y Mozon, who received him with 
 all her graciousness and kept him near her, talking to him 
 while directing everything. 
 
 The children were all around him in the dim light, often 
 touching him as they moved. They were grouping them- 
 selves on the stage. They seemed to be extremely well 
 drilled. Still, all was confusion to him. The second act 
 was about to begin, or the third. It had begun. The chil- 
 dren were all singing. Then, as the play went, the greater 
 part of them came in a rush to where he was standing in 
 the wings, the first one being crowded along by the 
 others. As one came with a rush against him, he held out 
 his hand to stop it, so he should not fall. And when lie 
 looked it was his boy. 
 
 For his life he could not help pressing him to his breast 
 just one moment, crying in a w^hisper: "Don't be afraid! 
 Don't be afraid !" But he did not hold him. He opened 
 his arms immediately to let him go. He did not even let 
 Ins eyes follow him. He had seen the first fright in the 
 face and then the change. How the lips grew red again ! 
 How the eyes turned to his with an expression of bound- 
 less gratitude, a smile of unspeakable relief gradually 
 
 79 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 lighting up the whole face! How well he remembered 
 the first smiling of the solemn little face ! But yet he had 
 seen no recognition. 
 
 After some time he saw him again. And with a feeling 
 of perhaps as great relief and thankfulness as before he 
 had seen into the boy's eyes, he now noticed that the fright 
 was all gone. At least it seemed to have left him, but 
 he could not surely tell, in the turmoil of the perform- 
 ance. But he would not do anything to approach the boy. 
 When the play was over he received an invitation to sup 
 with the troupe at their hotel. That he accepted. After 
 supper lie was made specially acquainted with some of 
 the principal performers among the children. Carmen 
 and Lopeto naturally being the first. He also managed 
 to learn how his boy had been picked up and had become 
 a member of the company. After that, seeing his boy and 
 Lopeto march off to bed together with the others, he took 
 his leave, to pass the night till dawn in walking the streets 
 round the block in which stood the building, where in 
 some one of the rooms his boy was sleeping. 
 
 Lopeto had shown quite a liking for his boy. It 
 pleased him to think of it. Yet something was in it that 
 pained him. But he liked Lopeto for it. And he plainly 
 saw the chance, how, without showing his real object, 
 to get near and grow familiar with his boy by occupying 
 himself with Lopeto, which could in no way seem strange, 
 Lopeto being courted by all. And there was in my father 
 much planning and nervous considering, what and how 
 best to do, with no result but the conception that Lopeto 
 might be made a companion to his boy, for a time. 
 
 If my father had not gone to any performance by our 
 troupe, it would have been Jim, the bricklayer, again to 
 bring him news of his boy. Jim had gone to see the chil- 
 dren at their second or third appearance and thinking 
 he saw a resemblance in the boy, had waited for him the 
 next morning at the stage entrance after rehearsal, when 
 
 80 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 lie fully recognized him. Jim spoke to him and quite 
 surprised him into telling how he came to be amongst 
 these ^.lexican children, and then hurried to inform my 
 father of his discovery, only to find him already possessed 
 of the facts, and in accord with the open hospitality and 
 graceful ease of Mexican custom, already on intimate 
 tooting with all the members of the troupe. That is, of 
 course, as intimate as my father's natural disposition 
 would allow him to be. 
 
 One point was through Jim's visit brought to my 
 father's mind, the birthmark. Jim spoke of it, and this 
 occasioned my father to make an opportunity to see it. 
 The boy wearing old clothes of Lopeto's too large for him 
 and rather worn, while the other boys were all dressed 
 alike and in new suits, plain, but with just a little pecu- 
 liarity of cut and touch of color to make them look 
 somewhat like uniforms, gave my father the chance of 
 offering to take him to his tailor and have a new suit 
 uniform like the rest made for him, doing, I am sure, 
 at the same time what he well knew made his boy's heart 
 jump with delight. He took Lopeto and a couple more 
 of the boys along to serve as patterns, and to take away 
 any feeling of distrust and insecurity the boy might have 
 in going alone with him, considering what might have 
 been his experiences with Richard. After being through 
 with the tailor he took them all to ch'iterent stores, where 
 he bought some little present for each. And for his 
 bov. ?t a furnisher's, he bought some underwear the 
 bov badly needed, which to try on, superfluously to 
 be sure, he made liim strip in the dressing room of the 
 establishment, when he saw the birthmark. And al- 
 though before he had thought little of it, as if perhaps 
 it might not be there an_d it made no difference if it were 
 not, mark or no mark, the boy was his, yet when he did 
 see it, he became possessed of quite a strong feeling on 
 that point, as if he had a right now to the boy he had not 
 
 8i 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 had before, and as though he must show his own birth- 
 mark. Had he but done it ! 
 
 The case lay similarly to what it had that time at the 
 old wharf. Yet, no! It was altogether different. The 
 only similarity was ,that he was as strange to the boy 
 now as he had been on that Sunday he first saw him, 
 and lie had to find his way into the boy's life again, step 
 by step as before. And even this task as well as every- 
 thing else was not what it had been then. 
 
 At that time the boy had been contented in his sur- 
 roundings, but it had been the contentment of ignorance, 
 inexperience. His life had been, yes! independent and 
 useful through work faithfully performed that lay well 
 within his ability. But it had been work to lead to nothing 
 but the lowest level of unskilled labor. Now he was not 
 only contented but joyfully happy, standing on the first 
 rung of a ladder, up which by his talent, he might climb 
 to the sunniest heights of life. The dift'erent wants of 
 the child had shown themselves in those earlier days soon 
 enough and as plain as at this later period to be noted 
 and cared for. His musical talent had taken clear shape 
 at the first touch of a simple, unfamiliar instrument, 
 pointing out the way he should go, the profession that 
 should be his life's work. 
 
 His whole soul had responded to the father's in every 
 vibration from their first meeting. Had the father at 
 that time been independent in his home-life, he could, 
 without the knowledge of the bond of nature between 
 them, to insure the child's future happiness have taken 
 him to be his own. Now the desertion by his wife had 
 given him that independence in his home, now he knew, 
 besides, that the boy was his own child, and now he must 
 not take him, must let him be. He had suspected some- 
 thing like it the very first night : he saw it clearer every 
 new day with pain tightening on his breast. 
 
 At the old wharf he had almost from the first hour 
 
 82 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 of their acquaintance become the boy's very centre of 
 life. He had felt it to be so, he had known it. Now the 
 boy was happy in a manifold happiness in which he had 
 no part, no share : happy in the execution of his beloved 
 music, the daily practicitig of it. learning more of it. 
 happy in the instruction by his teachers, their kindly 
 praise; happy and happier every day in the close fellow- 
 ship of all the dear sand-colored little ones, the affection 
 of Lopeto, the daintily acted motherliness of sweet 
 little Carmen. If he took him away from all this now, 
 might he not destroy his whole life? And if the boy was 
 really as musical as everybody proclaimed him, as he 
 himself believed him to be, was it not then his plain duty 
 to aid him on his way? However to do that he need not 
 let him go. And how could he let him go? He must 
 take him to himself to be his son. 
 
 He arrived at a plan that in reality was but old dreams, 
 old wishes, old, old castles of air. He would take Cora to 
 Europe, where any attempt of the mother to get posses- 
 sion of her would stand much less chance of being success- 
 ful than in the United States. He would go to Italy with 
 Cora and Harry ; to Tuscany, his old home, to live there. 
 And he would take the boy there. And Lopeto was to 
 be taken along. They were all to live there together. 
 The musical education of the boy was to be one principal 
 object of the undertaking : and Lopeto was for some years 
 to be the close, brotherly companion to his boy, to thus 
 bridge over the separation from the beloved little troupe. 
 And he would try the genuine qualifications of his boy for 
 a musical career. His boy should have all that fondest 
 father's love could give. He should know too a father's 
 love. He would tell him all and would fully acknowledge 
 him. But not right off. He wished to gain his love first, 
 as he had won the little fellow's heart years ago. At 
 least he wished to try. 
 
 The parents of Lopeto and Carmen desired most earn- 
 
 83 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 estly to give them a thorough musical education. The ob- 
 ject of all this Infantile Opera business had been but to 
 make money enough to defray the expenses of such an 
 education. It soon became evident that the profits of 
 the undertaking v/ould be much less than they had cal- 
 culated, and it only made the parents more anxious about 
 it. so that my father's hinting at an offer to take the 
 education of Lopeto on himself was met with willingness 
 enough. But nothing was more than hinted at ; nor did 
 my father express more than a sort of idea that it might 
 be well to have some other one of the boys come with 
 Lopeto for a companion, perhaps me, since we seemed to 
 be such good friends. The two of us were to be educated 
 together. It was to be definitely arranged in Boston, 
 where the troupe were going from San P'^rancisco. 
 
 Meanwhile my father gave himself up to the advance- 
 ment of the interest and comfort of the whole troupe and 
 especially to the enjoyment of the society of all the chil- 
 dren and the constant intercourse with them, without sing- 
 ling out his boy more than he could help, or appearing 
 more solicitous about him than about any of the others. 
 When the first season of several weeks' duration in San 
 Francisco was over, the troupe on his invitation went 
 to San Jose for a week, where they performed. One 
 night they visited his ranch and had what might be called a 
 vacation of his arranging. After that they returned to 
 San Francisco for anotlier shorter season where my 
 father left them and started with Cora and Harry for 
 Boston, four, five days ahead of the troupe. 
 
 Delays on the road kept the troupe from reaching Bos- 
 ton till several weeks after the time appointed with my 
 father. When at last they did arrive, he saw that his boy 
 was not amongst them and learned like one stunned that 
 the last night in San Francisco, during the performance, 
 v/hich was a sort of concert, some one in the audience 
 had come forward, climbed on to the stage, taken hold 
 
 84 
 
CHROXICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 of the boy. claiming him as his own and had carried him 
 off, the boy not making the least resistance. 
 
 Letters and telegrams had passed between my father 
 and the manager of the troupe while he was waiting for 
 them, but no mention had ever been made of this busi- 
 ness because, I suppose, nobody kne^^• or thought that my 
 father took any special interest in this boy, who after 
 all had been but an outsider among them. And, as it 
 happened no newspaper's notice had been taken of this 
 incident, or if it had, none had come to my father's eyes. 
 
 What could it mean? Richard was away on some 
 scheming, mining business in Central America, not to re- 
 turn for months or even years, or my father would not 
 have risked to leave the boy. Jim, the bricklayer, as 
 far as my father knew, was the only one knowing about 
 the boy. There came, as must come in connection with 
 me, the thought of :\Ir. Tem Oldock. To him my father 
 telegraphed and wrote. Cora fell ill, an.d it must have 
 been her protracted illness which kept my father from 
 going back to San Francisco. In a few weeks he re- 
 ceived the news that the boy had been found and was safe 
 in Mr. Tem Oldock's house. 
 
 The first sight of my father had acted on me just 
 about as he reasoned. The resemblance to Richard "had 
 started the old terrors in my mind, only that I had 
 an almost instant doubt of his being the person. If that 
 had not been I should have set about making my escape 
 without delay. Xew uncertainty came when, at the be- 
 ginning of the next act, I saw that he had left his seat 
 and was now^here to be seen. And real fright seized me 
 when I found myself in his arms. But as soon as I 
 came to really feel his embrace, even before I heard his 
 voice, I knew it was a different man, only resembling the 
 other. 
 
 Still the resemblance was enough to hold me captive so 
 that I could not disconnect my father with the memory of 
 
 85 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Richard. I am certain 1 should have come to it, in spite 
 of the obscuring recollection of the other one, if only my 
 father had more occupied himself with me, and if at his 
 country-seat on his ranch I had not seen Cora. 
 
 We were being famously entertained there, and al- 
 though at that time I was altogether too fully taken 
 up with my happy state to notice much that was not 
 music or Mexican children, still the trees and hills and 
 air were to me like greetings from the country I loved, 
 too. I was, soon after our arrival at the ranch, busily 
 engaged leading some of the children round the place, to 
 show, tell and explain all I knew of country-life, when we 
 came to a spot behind some shrubbery where we found 
 sitting on the ground in the road, a child, certainly not 
 three years old, that was crippled. It was awfully shy 
 too. When Carmen in her little-girl's motherliness went 
 to caress it, the little thing looked so pitiable that she 
 stopped and told me to go to it and speak to it in English. 
 But no kindly talking or coaxing could elicit a word or 
 make it raise its bowed-down head. It had only one 
 whole leg. The other leg was off just below the knee. 
 We could not understand how it could walk at all as it 
 had no crutch. Then one of our boys discovered in the 
 branches of a pepper-tree close by, a stick with a brass 
 ferrule which he shook down and which proved to fit into 
 the capping of the little child's leg-stump. Somebody 
 must have unscrewed it and thrown it up into the tree. 
 
 I had just screwed it into its place and was backing 
 away from the little thing, not to embarrass it any more, 
 when, raising my eyes, before me in the walk, slowly 
 approaching round the shrubbery, I saw Cora. 
 
 She was much changed, yet I instantly knew her. And 
 she recognized me, I saw, as well as that she saw, I had 
 recognized her. Into her pale eyes came that look of 
 hate and cruelty, I had seen in them, that time in the 
 
 86 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 room where that man whom she called papa had brought 
 
 me. 
 
 The terrors were within arm's length of me again. 
 As at Fountain Head, I had now the feeling as though 
 that man must be lurking nearby, anywhere, everywhere 
 ready to seize and destroy me. This, his girl would tell 
 him of my being here, and he would come. That last 
 night in San Jose my fire-dream visited me again the first 
 time in a long while. The night after in San Francisco 
 it came again. When a couple of days later my father 
 bade us good-by to go to Boston ahead of us, bringing 
 Cora to say good-by too, and making her shake hands with 
 me amongst the others, I seemed to feel in the touch of 
 her fingers her promise of hate to inform him, that strange 
 man, her papa of my whereabouts. And when on our 
 last night in San Francisco toward the end of the per- 
 formance there was some disturbance in the audience, 
 and a man came climbing onto the stage, caught me up, 
 jumped dow^n again and walked up the aisle and out of 
 the hall, carrying me all the way into the street, up to a 
 close carriage, into which he thrust me, coming in after 
 me, and rode off with me, I could not say one word nor 
 do one thing. This was the fulfilment. I was in the 
 clutches of my destroyer. I was lost. 
 
 I had had to siag that night for the first time a part 
 alone, a small song' of not more than three verses with a 
 chorus, receiving great applause at each verse and having 
 to repeat the last verse twice, when near the last ending 
 I was interrupted. I did not know what it was, but it 
 made my heart sink. A noise of some one calling! And 
 
 then it came. 
 
 Long since the whole has become like a picture to me : 
 the hot, crowded, not very well lighted house, our whole 
 company on the stage in everyday uniform dress (for it 
 was only a kind of concert we gave, as we were gomg to 
 leave the next morning by the earliest train) ; then the 
 
 87 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 man coming in the flare of the footHghts up over the 
 edge of the stage, straight toward me, lifting me up and 
 carrying me off ; the strange-looking faces of all the little 
 company, the grown-np people running out from the 
 wings, all looking astonished, scared, the flushed faces of 
 the audience, eager, some laughing, many rising, pressing 
 forward! But not to help! None to interfere! Not 
 one to save me I 
 
 Thomson had been one of the prospecting miners on 
 board the Good Fellow. He had been cast away with 
 us on the island and had come back with us to San 
 Francisco. But all this time nothing had ever occurred 
 to make him suspect my identity, while I of course knew 
 nothing whatever of him. We had been a good deal 
 in close company too, as I slept in the same tent with 
 him for a week or two on the island. However into 
 closer acquaintance we had not been brought. And he 
 was not a man to care for children, nor at all to take to 
 boys. Arrived in San Francisco he had in his desultory 
 w.'iv taken u]) his periodical inquiries about me, and had 
 at last come across Jim, from whom he had learned, to 
 his dead amazement, that the ship's boy on the schooner 
 on which he had sailed and been wrecked, was the boy 
 for whom he had been in search so long. He would 
 hardly believe it at all, for he was the kind of man to 
 think that we must have recognized each other. And 
 I don't know but what in his heart he put it down as 
 something showing again my inborn perverseness and 
 falseness, that I had not made myself known to him. 
 And now I belonged to a theatrical company! That 
 would be my ruin. As Richard was not there, he must 
 himself do what was right and save me. What Jim 
 told him about my father he simply disregarded after 
 his manner of mental action. Richard had always been 
 my father, how could anybody else be my father? 
 
 Thomson went to see us perform, but failed to recog- 
 
 88 
 
CHRONICLES OF MAXUEL ALAXUS 
 
 nize me in niy stage-dress. He watched for me on the 
 street near the stage-door the next time we went in to 
 rehearsal. Then he recognized me enough to know me 
 again for the boy aboard the Good Fellow. By that 
 time he was ready to act. He had no time to spare, 
 for the day of our last performance had come. He had 
 raised some money and rented a partly furnished, 
 isolated, little cottage on Russian hill. And he hired 
 a cab. Then he went to the music-hall, took a con- 
 venient seat as soon as the doors were open and waited 
 till near the end of our performance, till I had finished 
 my song and the called-for repetition within a few words, 
 when rising he called out something to the eflfect that 
 that was the boy he had lost years ago, and came and 
 carried me ofif. 
 
 I had not recognized him in the least. He had shaved 
 off his beard, or done something like that. It would 
 i-ave made no difference if I had. I was waiting in 
 deadly suspence for the appearance of the other man. I 
 could not speak. I thought of everything and at the same 
 time all thoughts ran into the one : where was the other 
 man? h^or this one, of course, was o.ily sent to fetch me. 
 Where was tlie other? The strange man? When we 
 came to the cab, I thought lie must be in there. When 
 Vv-e had driven, away, quickly at first, slower uphill till at 
 last we stopped, and the cab door was opened, I felt sure 
 of his standing there, ready to receive me. The worst 
 was goin.g into the cottage, where now certainly he must 
 be, and where I passed a night of terrors in the dark, at 
 every little noise imagining that he was coming, imagining 
 liim to be in the room with me. hearing his stealthy step, 
 his subdued breathing, his groping his way along the walls 
 to me. 
 
 Not till the day after, did I recognize Thomson as 
 one of the miners who had sailed as passanger on the 
 Good Fellovv. and then it made the case but more mys- 
 
 8g 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 terious. Only gradually during the following week could 
 I come to a sort of understanding of his confused, end- 
 lessly rambling talk. 
 
 The man he spoke of as my father and whom, one 
 moment, he called a fiend, recounting how he had treated 
 my mother, and the next moment professed it his inten- 
 tion, his duty to deliver me up to as soon as he was 
 returned from somewhere, that was that strange man 
 who had stolen me from our old wharf. Of that I was 
 reasonably sure. It could be no other. But he was not 
 here at present. Thomson was not even in communica- 
 tion with him. Thomson had no authority to interfere, 
 to act at all, even if that man was my father, which in my 
 innermost thoughts I fully believed to be the truth. 
 
 An indescribable fury took possession of me, as little 
 by little it became clear to me that I had fooled myself 
 and been fooled. Fooled by a fool! Robbed by a 
 jackass of my happiness! 
 
 If I had but resisted! If I had but fought back! I 
 might have fought myself clear and our managers might 
 then have stood by me and saved me. For Thomson 
 could not have made good any claim, could not have 
 proved any title so to speak. Perhaps our managers 
 would have given me up to him without any demur, to 
 avoid any trouble, and I being but an outsider, who 
 had come to them like a stray dog. But they might not. 
 If I only had broken away from him and run, I might 
 have hidden and disguised myself and gotten away with 
 the rest. Perhaps I should not have succeeded, but I 
 miffht. There had been the chances. Now it was too 
 late. Even if I escaped now, how could I make it pos- 
 sible to rejoin our company? Still escape I must. And 
 1 should easily enough have got away from Thomson, 
 had not the illness laid me low, w^iich ended with attack- 
 ing my throat and destroying my voice so that I have 
 never been able to sing since. 
 
 90 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 At the worst of the illness Mr. Tern Oldock found me. 
 He came with Mahon and Jim. My father had directed 
 him to Jim, and through Jim my spiriting away was 
 speedily brought home to Thomson, who was located 
 without much trouble by Mr. Tem Oldock. They came 
 to my bed-side, and oh ! the change of feeling at hear- 
 ing their voices! New hope! New life! Oh, the bless- 
 ings of joy! As Mr. Tem Oldock bent over me he held 
 out his hand to me, pointing at the scar, the mark of 
 my teeth, telling me not to cry, that he had come to take 
 care of me, that I had good friends who would do every- 
 thing for me, and by and by I should go to Europe with 
 ]\Iahon. 
 
 Jim was very downcast at seeing me so low, for which 
 he greatly blamed himself. But he did not speak about 
 nor mention my father any more than Mr. Tem Oldock 
 did. 
 
 Mahon, I think, I should have known anywhere, big- 
 grown as he was and with moustache sprouting. But 
 he did not remember me in the least. Yet when I was 
 a little better, he would come into my room in his father's 
 house, being home during school-vacation, and tease me, 
 exactly the way of old, when T was with Xello and Nick 
 at the wharf. 
 
 He was at a boarding school, a sort of private college 
 in the city, and when the new term began, I was sent 
 to the same college. And yet another year or nearly 
 so of separation from me my father had to endure ; sep- 
 aration certainly no longer in ignorance of my being and 
 doing, but no less m pain of secret longing. 
 
 What all the reasons were why he did not have me sent 
 on as soon as I was well enough to travel, or later, or 
 why he did not return to California sooner, if he found 
 his residing abroad did not answer the purposes of his 
 life, or why he did not, at least, enter into some sort of 
 communication with me, all this I shall never know. 
 
 91 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Cora's illness must have been one reason. It had de- 
 veloped into something requiring, according to the 
 opinion and advice of well known physicians, the speedy 
 consultation of noted, European specialists. As soon as 
 my father had received the news of my being safely 
 housed at Mr. Teni Oldock's, he sailed with Cora and 
 Harry for Europe. 
 
 The project about Lopeto had with the other plans 
 been abandoned. The Mexican children's company had 
 utterly failed in Boston and other places and had been 
 disbanded, most of the people returning home by aid of 
 my father. Lopeto, alone of all, obtained an engagement 
 to sing at some theatre somewhere. My father had re- 
 peated or more explicitly formulated his offer to take the 
 gifted boy to Europe for his general and musical educa- 
 tion, and I am sure he must at that time yet have had 
 it in his mind that I should follow him. But Lopeto's 
 present earnings were, I dare say, of too great a neces- 
 sity to the parents for them to entertain the proposal. 
 
 Mr. Tem Oldock's plan of sending Mahon abroad to 
 finish his education had revived about this time, probably 
 under the influence of some plan of my father's regarding 
 me, communicated to Mr. Tem Oldock, though never car- 
 ried out. Mr. Tem Oldock now proposed to take Mahon 
 to Europe himself, and I was to go along. At least 
 he spoke of taking me with Mahon to Europe. But 
 business considerations made him postpone the trip from 
 time to time, till my father, Cora presumably being 
 cured, was on his way, without further delays now, back 
 to California, where he arrived at the time Mr. Tem 
 Oldock was at last about fully ready to leave. My father 
 immediately came to our college with Mr. Tem Oldock, 
 ostensibly brought by that gentleman, to witness, as an 
 old friend of the family, Mahon's graduation, and as 
 though by chance to meet me, Mr. Tem Oldock's and 
 Mahon's young protegee, and casually invite Mahon, and 
 
 92 
 
CHROXICLES OF MAXUEL AEAXUS 
 
 me as his familiar, to pay him a visit at his country seat 
 for the time of a week and more, remaining till Mahon 
 should leave with his father on their European travels. 
 Thus he veiled his real object to bring me unknowing into 
 his house, there to keep me even if not yet proclaiming 
 himself mv father, for me to grow gradually, naturally 
 into my place of son. 
 
 So the day had dawned for my father to receive his 
 first-born into his house, to take him to his heart, not to 
 part from him till death should close his eyes. 
 One last, short year of happiness of all his life! 
 To have his own! And the surpassingly sweet ex- 
 perience of witnessing, while he was winning anew the 
 young heart, himself becoming gradually recognized, re- 
 discovered, as it were, as the one to whom that heart had 
 already, years ago, belonged! What delight to find the 
 boy every day more what he liked and wanted. The boy, 
 still not knowing that it was his father, every hour to 
 learn to love him more and more un.til never did child 
 love father more fondly! 
 
 I think my father came to our school fully prepared 
 to be recognized by me as the gentleman-friend of our 
 opera company, the friend of Lopeto, as we used to call 
 him. And if he did so, which I think most likely, and 
 that he pleased himself with many fond notions of this 
 recognition, on the other hand I am quite sure, when he 
 found he was not recognized, he immediately, after his 
 modest fashion, had plenty excuses ready for me and 
 explanations why he was not remembered, blaming him.- 
 self for having been so unreasonable as to expect it. He 
 probably told himself how much more gray he had grown, 
 white in fact and old-looking. Did he not w^ear clothes 
 of a new cut and style that made him appear a differ- 
 ent person ? And the principal reason, had he not treated 
 me before with the greatest reserve? Had he not failed 
 t'^ ?ive me the cpp'~>rtunitv to become familiar with his 
 
 93 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 voice, his manner, his appearance and I, too, had been 
 preoccupied with my music and acting. And in such a 
 crowd! Was he not in fact treating me now again with 
 the same reserve ? Did he not stand there shaking ahnost 
 and blushing, unable to speak, having to leave all the talk- 
 ing, even to the giving of his own invitations to Mr. Tern 
 Oldock! 
 
 That was the curse of his nature, his bashful, ner- 
 vously shy, self -observing, self-seeing nature, his honestly 
 self-distrustful conscientiousness, which made him, while 
 at the same time his heart cried for it in a way afraid 
 of being recognized, and feel relieved to have the recog- 
 nition postponed. 
 
 Something regretful my father found about me affected 
 him like a reproof. But there was not so much grieving 
 in me as he supposed. I had suffered as a boy of my 
 disposition, of strong sensibility if of happy spirits, must 
 suffer. Perhaps I should not have sustained the affliction 
 so well had I not been in a manner charmed. Feeling 
 myself as I always did in the hands of an incomprehen- 
 sible, hostile power, under whose sway and ban there was 
 left to me no real freedom of action, to do or to plan, 
 this unknown doom overhanging and darkening my whole 
 life, made me less susceptible to other pains. There was 
 no disappointment so cruel but it was easy to endure 
 compared to that my destiny, no wound so smarting but 
 it was as nothing by the side of that blow ready to fall 
 on me at any moment ! 
 
 But is not this untrue ? Do I not know that every dis- 
 appointment, grief and sorrow has been made tenfold 
 more keen, sore and sad by this, my consciousness of my 
 fate; like the torturing of one dying-ill. 
 
 Yet so much is true, it made me fight back hard. The 
 very sharpness of the pains drove me to struggle fiercely 
 to overcome them, to wrestle myself clear of whatever 
 torments beset me, else how could I have lived? Thus I 
 
 94 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 had beaten off what vicious pangs would assail me, and 
 the wounds of my heart had begun to heal as soon as I 
 had seen Mahon and Mr. Tern Oldock at my sick bed. 
 And they had continued to heal with change, new occupa- 
 tion, study, new companionship, though of boys rather 
 too old for me, till not even my hatred for Thomson was 
 any more so very deadly. And whatever wounds were 
 still left unhealed, closed of themselves when in the em- 
 brace of my father I knew^ him again, as the friend of 
 friends. 
 
 I was really at this time almost altogether taken up 
 with ^lahon's departure and the new sorrow it brought 
 me, and not with those former grievances, if they did 
 have the same first cause and last purpose. I had always 
 known Mahon was going away, and his departure in itself 
 was not the deepest of my regrets. It was the disappoint- 
 ment that I was not to go with him. 
 
 I always took things as they came. I had no claim 
 on Mr. Tem Oldock, I never felt as if I had, or on any- 
 body. Besides, I knew very well that Mr. Tem Oldock 
 must never be taken at his word too literally and seriously, 
 but in this instance I was sure he had meant what he had 
 said. A [any times he had told me that he would take 
 me with Mahon to Europe. Only lately he had silently 
 dropped the matter, speaking now a little mysteriously 
 about our all shortly meeting again on his and Mahon 's 
 return. 
 
 They were supposed to come back soon. I believed 
 myself they would. I knew Mahon did not care 
 for this trip. And Mr. Tem Oldock I considered as no 
 more than in a way self-persuaded against his better judg- 
 ment to take this trip. They would return that I myself 
 felt sure of, and that was my consolation. The dis- 
 appointment I had to take and overcome, fight down, 
 though it meant the destruction of all the air castles built 
 up by me on Mr. Tem Oldock's say-so. 
 
 95 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 What childish hopes! Dreaming of rejoining that 
 troupe of Mexican children! How I might find them, 
 and become one of them again and bring back to me the 
 happiness I had lost! 
 
 I believed them to have gone to Europe. I suppose 
 I had heard that talked about when I was with them. 
 I believe I thought I need but go to Europe to fall in 
 witli them. I had planned to learn to play some instru- 
 ment to become a musician for their orchestra, if it was 
 found that I was truly unable to sing. Or I could do 
 or be a thousand somethings. Let me but once more be 
 with them and I should find my happiness among them 
 as before! 
 
 I had been informed that morning that arrangements 
 had been made for me to stay and board at the college 
 the whole of the vacation, since I had nowhere to go 
 when Mr. Tem Oldock closed his house. Not very much 
 later I was told Mr. Tem Oldock had that instant ar- 
 rived and was with Mahon in the reception-room, where 
 they wanted to see me. 
 
 It was one minute of excited suspense. Could it be 
 possible that after all I was to go with Mahon? How 
 could 1 help thinking it? Tiie next minute I was in their 
 presence, and everything was settled. Mahon had been 
 invited by somebody to pay him a visit at his place, some- 
 where in the country, as there would be over a week's 
 time before Mahon would start with his father on their 
 travels, and I was included in this invitation to come and 
 stay at this place with Mahon till Mahon would have to 
 leave. Or, I might stay longer if I liked, stay out the 
 whole vacation, Mr. Tem Oldock said, who did all the 
 talking. 
 
 Soon after this the exercises had begun and were over. 
 The graduation had taken place, and a late luncheon 
 had been partaken of. Mr. Tem Oldock had bidden me 
 farewell, and so kindly, it was all I could do to bear it. 
 
 96 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAND'S 
 
 After that I remember being on a railway-train with 
 Mahon, going to the place we had been invited to by 
 somebody, whom neither :\Iahon nor I knew. Mahon 
 after a linle thinking recollected that it was a Mr. Aliens, 
 and that he was his father's banker. But his father 
 would soon, now. be his own banker, Mahon said, as 
 he was going to establish a bank of his own. And as 
 soon as I was through with the college, I should be given 
 a place in that bank, and grow up to be manager of it, 
 his father had told him, he said. 
 
 When we reached the railway station where we had 
 to leave the train it was night. A man was waiting for 
 us with a team to take us to the dwelling-house on the 
 ranch. I recollect the ride seeming very long to me, and 
 that Mahon was the whole time in conversation with our 
 driver about the farming of the ranch. Then we 
 arrived ; and now, when our Mr. Aliens stood before me, 
 blinking and breathing hard, some peculiar feeling did 
 come to me. I thought that I had seen him before, or 
 that he looked like somebody I had known. 
 
 Naturally he should bestow more attention on Mahon. 
 his principal guest, than on me, though he did it to all 
 but total avoidance of me. He hesitated to take my 
 offered hand, and when he did take it, I felt his hand 
 tremble. He did not look me in the face. His voice was 
 uncertain— harsh. Yet an inexpressibly sweet air of all 
 that is kind hung about him. And in every one of these 
 things there was something familiar to me. Could I have 
 pursued the thoughts my impressions called forth as they 
 unclearly moved in me, it might have led to my recog- 
 nizing him even before our supper was over. But just 
 then my mind was fully occupied with the parting from 
 Mr. Tem Oldock. whose unexpected tenderness at the 
 last moment had made the parting with him all the harder 
 
 to me. 
 
 Could I never remain for good with any one ? Must I 
 
 97 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 always leave every where as soon as I was happy there? 
 Parting! Forever parting! 
 
 Going to bed I found that Mahon and I were to oc- 
 cupy separate bed-rooms that did not even connect. Mine 
 was adjoining Mr. Allens's bed-room, connected with it 
 through the bath-room. Mahon's room was quite across 
 the hall. And as a last impression I remember that I did 
 not like this arangement. 
 
 In the morning, I found that Mahon had got up long 
 before me and gone with the foreman to the harvesting 
 in the fields and that I was expected to go on horse- 
 back with our Mr. Aliens to visit a Mrs. Sullivan. I 
 myself should have chosen to go harvesting with Mahon, 
 I am sure, and I can fancy how well my father compre- 
 hended that, how pained he was that T should not have 
 my wish, how ready, had I but expressed it, to renounce 
 his own desires, undo his own plan. For he most as- 
 suredly had planned this trip for him and me together. 
 
 But if I could not go harvesting with Mahon, it was 
 my disposition to make the most of whatever other ar- 
 rangement was made and willing and glad to go horseback 
 with our host. I saw in his face that he was pleased. 
 
 Mrs. Sullivan's place was a little high valley in the 
 upper hills above Gilroy with a winding canyon outlet 
 into the bigger valley below. The house and barn stood 
 at one side at the foot of a tree-grown knoll. Mrs. Sul- 
 livan was sitting on the little porch under climbing plants, 
 as though expecting us. 
 
 Just another such bright-faced, merry, tender and 
 whole-hearted Irish girl as Mrs. Sullivan must have been, 
 T always imagine, Mahon's mother was not so quiet per- 
 haps as Mrs. Sullivan, made quiet by her sorrows. Her 
 children were all dead and her husband turned to dissi- 
 pation, had gone to start life anew at a distant place, 
 where she was to join him as soon as the sale of her place 
 was accomplished. I remember how from greeting mv 
 
 98 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 father she turned to me, holding out hoth her hands, say- 
 ing: "And this is the boy." She drew me to her as 
 though she would kiss me, then let my hands go, turmng 
 away to hide her tears. 
 
 On the way home, my father told me that her two sons 
 had died some years ago, both from the same disease 
 within a week's time. He supposed, he said, I had 
 recalled them to her mind, they having been near my 
 age I felt sorry for her. I liked her very much. How 
 it was, I could not tell, but she brought into my head 
 that lady I had once met at Fountain Head. I thmk 
 it was her motherliness that did it; something that 
 awakened in me to mv conscious perception the void I 
 often felt of the mother's love that I had never known. 
 
 Other things called up memories of Fountain Head 
 and Five Oaks. All day long I was full of thoughts and 
 remembrances of both places. To be sure it was the 
 con'^equence of being in the country, on the hills in the 
 sunshine, the round-top live oaks crouching over their 
 shadows, the cringing scrub-brush and chaparral chng- 
 mcr like moss to the rounding ground in the hollows, 
 the dry soil everywhere full of cracks between the 
 withered grass, the cattle, the haystacks, the hazy dis- 
 tance. I almost craved to talk and tell about it and all 
 other things belonging to the country that I knew and 
 saw, as we were riding about after having stayed at Mrs. 
 Sullivan's till after luncheon, onh" I never could, nor 
 indeed ever tried to bring myself to speak of it and let 
 anybody know that I had been living there, any more 
 than I ever mentioned the old wharf. 
 
 But as we rode along, almost aimlessly it appeared, 
 a strange sort of feeling or idea came to me, as though 
 this Mr. Aliens understood in a way my interest in 
 country life and other things, me, myself altogether. 
 Perhaps it was conveved in some words of his. Yet 
 we spoke but little. Or it was the feeling in myself. 
 
 99 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 For it was not only quick and ready memory, it was 
 actual feeling in me. I felt as if I was going with Young 
 Hants over the hills and the air was coming up the 
 warm valley. It was between three and four years now 
 since I had left Five Oaks and still I had the same feel- 
 ing I used to have when, the evening coming on, I rode 
 with Hants home to the little house on the hill from the 
 fields or pastures. Home ! Home ! In spite of all that 
 could threaten me, the coming home had always made 
 me happy. And something was making me happy now. 
 
 Mahon had returned from the fields on the other side 
 of the valley a little before we came back. He was sun- 
 burned and tired but vaunting his pleasure and satisfac- 
 tion in the day's work and protesting that nothing should 
 keep him from employing in the same way all his time till 
 the day came for his departure. 
 
 I suppose I was as tired as Mahon, with the unusual 
 exercise of being in the saddle so many hours, although 
 I had not seldom, in town, gone with Mahon on hired 
 saddle-horses for rides through the park and along the 
 beach. 
 
 We went to bed early that night. Generally I had a 
 premonition when I was to have my night-mare, and it 
 would come as soon as I had fallen asleep. This night 
 I had no warning and slept soundly for hours before it 
 came. I felt somebody was holding me down and knew 
 I was in my dream. I tried to wake up but I could not. 
 I had to go on. 
 
 I was on the big, bald mountain near the Black's hut, 
 with Salvador on his horse. He had me lassoed and fas- 
 tened and was dragging me toward one of the old mining 
 shafts, where that strange man and the Black were stand- 
 ing, to throw me down the shaft. I tried to slip my 
 fastenings and almost had got free when the strange man 
 fell on me and rolled me over till my head overhung the 
 opening of the shaft and I could see deep down at the 
 
 100 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 bottom a horrible, fiery snake-worm. I fought hard to 
 get free, and then turning a little I saw over me, close, 
 the distorted face I so well knew, of the strange man. 
 Suddenly it w^as nu longer he, but our Mr. Aliens. Then 
 at once I heard some one calling to me not to be afraid. 
 And that was the friend of Lopeto. He was trying to 
 drag that strange man from off me. I was struggling 
 to get from under, and when I awoke, soaking wet and 
 hot and gasping with exhaustion, I was in the arms of 
 our Mr. Aliens, who was calling me by name, asking me 
 in breathless distress, speaking Spanish, if 1 did not 
 know him. 
 
 I said: "You are the friend of Lopeto." 
 
 I knew him now perfectly well. In all the tumult of 
 my mind and the stupor, too, my dream generally left me 
 in, it was fully clear to me, and I felt an infinite glad- 
 ness of it. Yet I had a momentary perception of my an- 
 swer not being entirely satisfactory. I could not think 
 what was wrong with it. For there could be no doubt 
 but that the man who was holding me in his arms was 
 the friend of Lopeto. I was sure of it. He was speak- 
 ing to me, telling me how, having left the bathroom-door 
 open, he had heard my moaning and had come to rouse me 
 up out of my night-mare. He had raised me up to 
 sitting, he was bathing my face, calming me with kindest 
 words. And he was our Mr. Aliens. 
 
 But where was Lopeto? 
 
 I think at first I must have believed him to be near 
 by. I don't know but what I thought they were all 
 come back, the whole troupe, till my father, conceiving 
 my impatient desire to hear all he could have to say, 
 forthwith began to give his information. And for all 
 that had to be told and listened to and asked again, re- 
 told and explained the night was not long enough. 
 
 I learned the fate of the little company, the fact of 
 
 lOI 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 their breaking up and dissolution, and knew there could 
 be no more rejoining them. 
 
 With what fatherly concern did he set to work to 
 inquire into the conditions of my thoughts and feelings, 
 to obtain an insight into all that lived within me, draw- 
 ing from me with so gentle and untiring perseverance 
 every conceit, not only to gain knowledge of my true 
 wants as every good father would but also to make me un- 
 derstand myself as far as that was possible at my age, 
 and no less to let me know that I was in the hands of a 
 friend for life. 
 
 With this it was characteristic of my father that no 
 mention was made of my staying or going. But I felt 
 myself at liberty to take it as self -understood that I was 
 to remain living with my Mr. Aliens. 
 
 My recognition of him as the other, the older and 
 dearer friend took place soon after this, as soon as 
 Mahon's departure left us alone together. 
 
 Mahon went away after being two weeks on the 
 ranch, to be now for certain taken to Europe and made 
 a gentleman of, as his father would have it. How sorry 
 he was to go, increasing again my sorrow to part from 
 him. I had never seen him like that. But he had been 
 quite different from his usual self during the whole time 
 of his stay on the ranch. Ordinarily he had an indif- 
 ference of manner, and would seem to be bored by his 
 pursuits and never seriously interested in them. Now 
 he had been taking part in the work of the big ranch 
 every day from daw^n to dusk, making himself familiar 
 v/ith the different cultures, and with an ease, challeng- 
 ing everybody's admiration. He was full of interest at 
 every point and all full of general activity, life, talk, 
 fun and happiness, not differing so much perhaps with 
 my state, if I must believe that my happiness at that 
 time was greater than anybody's and equaled only by 
 that of my father's. 
 
 102 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 For this was the time, of all the times of my life, 1 
 think the most wonderful. Never can 1 lose the impres- 
 
 sion 
 
 When :Mahon left, my father went with him to town, 
 as if he must personally return and deliver him to Mr. 
 Tem Oldock, while I, for the few days my father would 
 be absent, was to stay with Mrs. SulUvan. 
 
 I should have liked to have gone along with my father 
 and Mahon very much. And I did not see why I should 
 not do so, nor why 1 could not remain on the ranch if I 
 was to stay behind. But it was so arranged, and accord- 
 inglv I rode over to Mrs. Sullivan's. 
 
 It was doubtless one of my father's plannings. Per- 
 haps he aimed at making the parting from Mahon less 
 grievous to me. And I well conceive his owai feelings 
 at seeing my sorrow ; as though he alone were respon- 
 sible for it. Or he may have wanted Mrs. Sullivan's 
 aid in preparing me for what I now^ must come to know. 
 
 I had been to :Mrs. Sullivan's several times during 
 these weeks with my father and once alone, and she had 
 more than once as good as told me, only that I could 
 not take her meaning, that he was my father. I had 
 certainly come to like her very much, but no liking could 
 do away with the homesickness that invariably befel me 
 when I'had to leave an accustomed place, be it for but a 
 short time which now found more nourishment in my 
 feelings at :\Iahon's leaving. 
 
 It was but a few days till my father returned. He 
 had telegraphed on leaving town for me to come home 
 that night. Tlie telegram was forwarded to Mrs. Sul- 
 livan's from Gilroy, and the messenger arrived just as 
 I was on the way to my room to make ready for supper. 
 1 remember Mrs. Sullivan coming, running after me. 
 with the telegram in her hand, calling out : "Here ! Here 
 is a prescription for a homesick boy!" 
 
 And she did not insist on my eating supper first, but 
 
 103 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 herself urged me on to hurry, as I rode oft* in the darkea- 
 ing night. 
 
 Home ! Home ! Going home ! 
 
 The stars were faint. Ahead on the shadowy hills 
 hung full the reddish moon, as in the nights of long ago 
 I thought not of them, but their influence was over me. 
 
 I was under the oaks in the valley. I was in the 
 orchard. I rode to the farm-yard to leave the horse in 
 the corral, and ran to the house. 
 
 Now I saw the lights of the house under the black 
 trees and their beams came like liquid something rushing 
 into my heart, filling it all v/ith glowing joy. 
 
 And then I saw my father standing on the veranda, 
 half-biding behind a post, as I had so often seen him at 
 the old wharf, standing, half-hiding behind a pile-head. 
 I ran to him as I had always run to him as soon as I saw 
 him there waiting for me. He 1 
 
 Next morning I saw little Harry. He had been stay- 
 ing in tov/n with his nursery-girl since their leturn from 
 abroad. My father had brought him with him from 
 town, telling me nothing about it. When in the morn- 
 ing, by my father's arranging I met him alone, I did 
 not remember him right aw^ay, in spite of his crippled 
 leg, till going up to him in my pleasure at seeing a little 
 child and my attempt at making friends, I noticed him 
 trembling with bashful apprehension, standing with down- 
 turned face, not daring to meet my eyes, and at once 
 recollected the shy little cripple I had seen at this place 
 when I had been here with the Mexican children. 
 
 My father told us how Mahon when he heard about 
 little Harry had exclaimed: "That is right. That will 
 fit exactly, Manuel will be perfectly happy now. Just 
 let him have a little child to play with all day and he 
 will want nothing more." And Harry seemed naturally 
 to fall to my charge. He could do without his nursery- 
 girl anyhow very well by this time. 
 
 104 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 At first, I was very careful not to force myself on 
 him but to advance only little by little in the familiarities 
 and intimacies of brotherly fellowship. But with my 
 self -unconscious openness and freedom, I could not but 
 directly show my affection for him, and that was what 
 won his heart. In this respect, as in so many others 
 he was the exact counterpart of our father. The mo- 
 ment any one showed him real attachment and fondness, 
 he melted right away, while he was at the same time 
 most shy. 
 
 It took me much longer to get him to feel easy or al- 
 most easy in my presence and to allow the touch of my 
 hands without more than an involuntary drawing back, 
 than it took me to gain his heart. Some little tricks, too, 
 I employed, pretending at times to have hurt myself, un- 
 scrupulously working on his tenderness, making him tie 
 up my hand, hold a wet towel to my head or neck, rub 
 my arm. all of which he did at my doleful bidding with 
 gentle compassion, overcoming his shyness. 
 
 My father had procured a pony for him. With the 
 stirrup fixed to suit his leg he sat the horse very well, 
 and to my delight and pride as his instructor in horse- 
 manship, he showed himself very clever and perfectly 
 fearless. His trust in me was such, he would unhesi- 
 tatingly undertake anything I told him to try. He went 
 with our father and me on all our trips over the whole 
 ranch, with the workings of which my father had be- 
 fore this begun to make me familiar. 
 
 I think my father at bottom wished that I should 
 eventually come to make the farming of the ranch the 
 pursuit of my life in preference not only to music, but 
 to any other profession. I certainly showed great liking 
 for life in the country, and I surely had had enough prac- 
 tical experience in farming to know the hard work and 
 drawbacks of it. He had bought the ranch, which was 
 an old Spanish Grant, at a very low price in a period 
 
 105 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 of financial depression during the first year after his 
 arrival in California. He had farmed parts of it from 
 the day he took possession of it, step by step bringing 
 more of it under cultivation, being as a rule successful. 
 He was not only a man of sense and judgment but some- 
 thing of a natural-born farmer and certainly a good busi- 
 ness-man, in spite of his bash fulness and other weak 
 points. He often had wanted to retire from city business 
 and give himself up completely to the ranch. I believe he 
 now meant me to decide ; that if I showed continued liking 
 and aptitude to be a farmer, he would with so much great- 
 er contentment retire from active business in the city to 
 more active life in the country with his children round 
 him. 
 
 But I was not to be urged or persuaded or merely 
 influenced into adopting farming for my life's work and 
 profession. I was to be shown business life in the city 
 as well, and to be put in a fair way of seeing and judg- 
 ing for myself what suited me best, if a boy of my age 
 can judge and tell what occupation or trade or profes- 
 sion or business suits him best. It might seem proof of 
 a certain natural aptness in me that I, only a rather small 
 boy should know farm work as I did. I might know 
 much more and yet be never anything of a farmer. Or 1 
 might learn to be a good farmer, yet never in all my life 
 be fit to run a big ranch, which means to be a boss, to be 
 able to boss others and a good many, and which is rather 
 a natural gift. And yet again I might, be made to ac- 
 quire something of the fitness for a boss, if I had some 
 gift that way and was duly trained, be a farmer and a 
 boss and still never be able to make the farming of the 
 big ranch pay, if I was not as well a business man. 
 
 Tlie same, of course, would hold good for a city busi- 
 ness. And after all it might be easiest to predict a 
 future for me as a musician, since certainly my talent 
 
 io6 
 
CHROXICLES OF MAXUEL ALAXUS 
 
 lay in that direction. If only, my voice being gone, I 
 could hit on tlie intsrument most suited to my talents. 
 
 It had been strange to me that with the remembering 
 of little Harry, the morning I had seen him for the first 
 time again, there had come to me the instant I recol- 
 lected him, an unpleasant sensation, as though he were 
 connected with some disagreeable experience of mine. 
 It did not stay with me long. It was but momentary. 
 I quickly forgot it. Days passed, when without warn- 
 ing, with no apparent occasion, cause or reason came 
 like a black shadow the recollection of Cora She had 
 been at this place at that time when we Mexican chil- 
 dren had been here. She had been^ near the little 
 crippled boy when we had come across him. 
 
 I had not forgotten her, but I had not thought of her. 
 Where was she now? And who was she anyhow? 
 
 If she were the daughter of our Mr. Aliens, the friend 
 of Lopeto, my :\Ir. Aliens, how had she come to call 
 tliat other man, that strange man papa, as I only too well 
 remembered her doing not once but a dozen times in that 
 room where he brought her and that lady to see me ? 
 And that man, who was he? What was he? 
 Thomson had told me of a man he said was my father, 
 who had tried to kill my mother and me before I was 
 born, and had left her for dead on the desert ocean- 
 beach. From all he said that should be the man who 
 had taken me away from the old wharf and wanted to 
 kill me. I had speculated on it more when I first had 
 heard Thomson's story, because I had to try hard to 
 put it in shape to make it understandable to myself. 
 I can not say that I thought much about it now, for 
 was I not in the hands now of him to whom I belonged, 
 who would shield me from any foe and never give me 
 up? But if I believed and felt sure of this, just as 
 surely did I believe that strange man to be the man 
 Thomson had said was my father. It must be so, it 
 
 107 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 seemed to me. The only explanation of his acts, his 
 doings to me, was in my mind that he was my father. 
 Even at this time, when it occurred to me as soon as I 
 had begun to think of Cora, that his being my father 
 would make her my sister, at least some sort of half- 
 sister. It appeared to fit perfectly in the general com- 
 bination of circumstances giving evidence in proof of his 
 being my father. 
 
 Naturally I was not so conscious of all this as I ex- 
 press it. At best I could but vaguely distinguish. Much 
 remained mysterious. Mysterious was Cora's staying 
 away from us. She was absent all this time. She never 
 came to the ranch. I never saw her again till we moved 
 into town. Why did she not come as had been cus- 
 tomary with her to do before she went abroad? My 
 father surely would have wanted her to come and see 
 me as he had brought her to see me when I belonged 
 to the Mexican children, as he afterwards brought her 
 to visit us at our place in town. Perhaps she chose to 
 avoid me. But for what? I thought of her with appre- 
 hension, that is true enough, when once she had been re- 
 called to my mind. For a number of days I expected 
 almost hourly to see her appear. When she never came, 
 I never saw her, never heard her mentioned, she was less 
 and less in my mind. 
 
 Another greater mystery was the connection between 
 my Mr. Aliens and that strange man. That there was 
 some connection between them became very soon quite 
 evident to me, and I should have spoken about it to my 
 father, but I could not. One main cause lay, I dare say, 
 in my feeling in a manner under my ban forbidden to tell ; 
 but principally and more than all other reasons com- 
 bined, I was kept from speaking out of consideration 
 for my father. 
 
 Eager as he was to hear my story, to learn every 
 particular of my experiences, when I came to the first 
 
 io8 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 blow Richard Alanus dealt me, it hurt my father in a 
 way that made it impossible for me to go on. There was 
 such misery in him, such indignation, injury, hatred, I 
 could not go on. I gave my story from the time I fell 
 into Richard's hands, till I was left with the Black on 
 the mountain but in merest outline. 
 
 He knew that man, that I could tell. But he never 
 mentioned him, and I remained at that time without 
 knowledge who Richard Alanus was. The name I had 
 heard Thomson speak, but with such peculiar pronuncia- 
 tion, following my mother's Spanish, I suppose, that I 
 could have no idea of its being the same which Mahon 
 had given me as our host's name, and which was the one 
 commonly used by everybody. 
 
 I can not say that in all this time I saw any resem- 
 blance between my father and Richard Alanus. To be 
 sure Richard's picture must by this time have been faded 
 away a good deal in me. It was when I saw him at my 
 father's funeral, after all the years I had not seen him, 
 that I noted not the likeness but the difference to him. 
 It then seemed impossible that I could ever have been 
 much impressed by their resemblance. 
 
 When the rainy season was well advanced, some time 
 before Christmas, we left the ranch and came to town 
 to live in the top-story of my father's large business- 
 building, his offices being in the story below, and below 
 that again warerooms and porters* rooms. The general 
 entrance was on the first floor, level with the street. 
 
 People would sometimes wonder why my father would 
 continue to live with us in those big rooms on the third 
 floor of that old building that was nothing but an old 
 warehouse made over, especially as he had another town- 
 house near South Park, which was quite a comfortable 
 dwellin.^ with handsome rooms. It was unoccupied too, 
 unoccupied till a few days before my father's death, when 
 his wife moved in by Richard's direction or his lawyer's, 
 
 109 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 to be in possession when my father should die. She 
 brought Cora from her concealment, and had little Harry 
 carried there the hour my father died. 
 
 I never was inside this house. I never was at the 
 place but that one time, the day of my father's funeral, 
 when I went there after the obsequies to find my little 
 brother. At the barred gate I learned from Cora of 
 Harry's inhuman treatment by Richard, and set out that 
 evening for the mountains, for Fountain Head, where 
 Richard had gone straight from the crematory, when he 
 had seen me. 
 
 But the other place, the rooms where we lived over 
 the business-offices, the office itself, my father's office, 
 all parts of the old, plain, cemented, brick building with 
 the discolored, iron shutters ; my mind has often turned 
 to them. 
 
 I was office-boy now in my father's business, a sort 
 of office-boy, junior clerk and messenger. He had made 
 me such to have me with him as much as possible. It 
 was the reason, no less, of his living with us in those 
 rooms over his offices, to have me constantly near him. 
 I had my music lessons and other lessons upstairs. The 
 rest of the day I was in business. 
 
 I believe my father was in a way proud of my aptness. 
 He was very careful about my initiation in all the duties 
 of a new beginner in the business of what was now 
 principally a banking house. He taught me bookkeeping 
 himself. During the time I was busy with my lessons, 
 early in the morning and after that in business, little Harry 
 was in charge of a day-governess, who stayed till lunch. 
 But after lunch he came with us into my father's private 
 office and sat there with his playthings and books till T 
 had to go on messenger duty, and he went with me. T 
 know my father felt every moment of my absence as a 
 loss, yet he would send me out, afternoon on afternoon, 
 sometimes even making up messages to take me a good 
 
 no 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 distance, that J might not suffer from confinement. Harr)' 
 always accompanied me. Afterwards then we had to 
 report all we had noticed. Perhaps we did not come 
 iiome till dark, making my father not seldom a little 
 anxious, and being a little late for dimier. But that 
 made it only the more enjoyable. Later we had music, 
 games, books and talk, till I had to carry Harry to bed. 
 Then came the time for my father to take sole possession 
 of me till our own bed-time arrived. 
 
 We did not often go out in the evening, except, to 
 be sure, to every concert of any account and to hear 
 musicians of note. Occasionally he would take me to 
 the theatre, of which I was more fond than he knew, 
 I believe, and then we had a little supper afterwards at 
 some one of the many famous restaurants of our town. 
 Not so seldom he would go with me to an athletic club, 
 of which he was a life-member and he had made me join 
 the boy's class, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing 
 me excell in sports and games and in all sorts of gym- 
 nastics, which I then reproduced at home with little 
 Harry, to our mutual delight. He would also have a 
 game of billiards with me there, chuckling heartily at 
 being defeated by me. 
 
 One very beautiful day, a holiday. Washington's Birth- 
 day I think, he rode with little Harry and me to the 
 beach below Ingleside, where, putting up the team at a 
 public stable, we spent the whode day, going on foot 
 more than half way to Mussel Rock. The tide was out 
 very low, so that little Harry could walk finely on the 
 hard, wet sand. I remember our seeing many schools of 
 sea lions, floundering and rolling over and over in the 
 green, curving water of the outer breakers. 
 
 Only once, on a Sunday, the only partly clear Sun- 
 day, I think, of the whole season, we all, Cora with us, 
 went up to the ranch to see how everything was going 
 on and to figure out in how many weeks we might return 
 
 III 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 there to live. My father had been planning some few 
 alterations to the old dwelling-house. We found them 
 well under way, and I can not forget how pleased he was 
 with the new arrangement and still more pleased that I 
 liked it ; and how Cora said nothing at all. 
 
 I do not know if my father had found anything in me 
 at all indicating that I might be one to become a man 
 for the world of city-business, but from the fulness of 
 his content at this time, I concluded that his observations 
 of me had led him to see more of a future for me in 
 growing up to farming the ranch than to doing business 
 in the city. Life on the ranch then it was to be. His 
 banking-business he consolidated with another, similar 
 business to a joint affair, of which he held the controlling 
 stock. As soon as the alterations of the house were 
 finished, we would move there to live for good on the 
 big ranch. 
 
 I did not love the city as 1 did the country, still I did 
 not dislike our town life. And very peculiarly it struck 
 me my bashful little brother showed great fondness for 
 town-life, may be by reason of the greater solitude he 
 found in the crowds. I cannot say that my father seemed 
 less happy in town than at the ranch. Certainly we may 
 all have been happy because we had the return to the 
 ranch before us. But had there been no ranch at all. 
 had we been like Nick and Nello on the wharf or like 
 Hants and France on the hill-farm, or still poorer, we 
 still should have been happy, because we were happy in 
 ourselves, in each other. 
 
 Cora alone was outside of us, against us all, always ! 
 And so she should be, for she was not of us. 
 
 She was at the time about twelve years old, well grown 
 and with promise of great beauty in figure, form, coun- 
 tenance and every feature. She was yet in school, the 
 same boarding-school she had been at before. It was 
 not a regular school. It was a family where three, four 
 
 112 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 girls, all similarly circumstanced as Cora, had been put ; 
 two grown up, very accomplished daughters of the family 
 acting as teachers. 
 
 Once or twice a week she came to our place, almost 
 invariably timing her visits so as to miss meeting me. 
 She was not afraid of me, I knew. She was not afraid 
 of anybody. But evidently she avoided me. It gave me 
 an unpleasant feeling. 
 
 When she did come to dine with us and stay over 
 night, it was always on condition that my father should 
 take her to the theatre, of which she was as fond as I. 
 He always wanted me to come with them, but I never 
 Vv-ent v/it'h them. She would after the play come home 
 with my father to our place where she had a room ad- 
 joining our large, general living room, a very pretty room 
 and very prettily furnished to her directions. In the 
 morning after an early breakfast, my father would go 
 with her, to see her safe to her boarding-school. 
 
 She never came thus to stay at our place but what 
 there v/as a violent outbreak of temper and onslaught 
 on the little cripple, and wrath and venom for his watch- 
 ful defender, the black bastard, as she designated me. 
 
 How could my father be so blind to what she really 
 was? But he was. Not till the end came did his eyes 
 open. Was it his fondness that blinded him? And what 
 could he be fond of in her who so hated him ? Or was it 
 his own fondness that he was fond of. 
 
 He really thought, as it was his heart's desire that 
 she and I should become friends, dearest friends, that 
 we were merely a little jealous of each other now, and 
 that we soon would come to love each other like brother 
 and sister, what he believed us to be, as his children, 
 both of his body and blood. One time he told us to so 
 love one another, and made her kiss me. Her kiss was 
 strangely tender ; very like his. I can feel it now. Could 
 he not see that I mistrusted her, detested her, abominated 
 
 113 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 her as much as she hated me, even if he did not know 
 of the shadowy form of Richard Alanus always, for me, 
 darkening her presence! For I never told him of my 
 iiret meeting with her. 
 
 His presence made some difference in her behavior, 
 that is true, especially after he had told her that I was 
 his son. For he did tell her and I can distinctly mark the 
 time, if not the day, right after the kissing, when she 
 became much more guarded and much more hating. 
 
 But I have long since become firmly convinced that 
 she always knew what all our relationship was, always 
 knew Harry to be my father's child and my true half- 
 brother, knew all about who and what I was, and al- 
 ways knew Richard Alanus to be her father, knew it long 
 before in my presence she called him papa, which she 
 never called my father. I noted it well. Never did she 
 call my father papa or father. 
 
 Had only my father told me instead of her that I was 
 his son ! It would have made everything clear to me. At 
 least it would have cleared up some of the mystery al- 
 ways yet surrounding Richard Alanus for me; although 
 from talk in the office I had now come to know who he 
 was and some particulars of his life. 
 
 But to what good could my father have spoken ? What 
 single occurrence could his speaking have prevented? 
 Not Cora's going away to her mother ! Not my father's 
 death! Not the taking away of little Harry by his 
 mother, as soon as my father had died and the making 
 over of him by her to Richard Alanus for the execu- 
 tion of his inhuman practices, the gratification of his lust 
 of cruelty! And not my killing that devil! 
 
 It was against my father's nature to tell. Not till 
 the last blow came, the shock of Cora's going away, 
 that laid him on his death-bed, not till then could he 
 speak, and then but hesitatingly, as if confessing a sin, 
 asking my forgiveness, telling me what had remained un- 
 
 114 
 
CHRONICLES Of MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 told, that I was his son. his own, the child of his body, his 
 mind, his heart. 
 
 After that he lay broken, never rallying. 
 
 Certainly the thought of Cora's being taken away from 
 him by her mother had never been absent from his mind, 
 and it might look as if he ought to have been prepared 
 for it. But such constant, ever present consideration 
 of possible evil to come, seems to me not to strengthen the 
 heart for the blow when it is dealt but to weaken it. 
 
 Even more cause for anxiety had there been of late. 
 Richard had been away continuously. Cora's mother, 
 whom my father had never legally divorced, had not 
 gone with him, but had, as was her custom when she 
 was not with Richard, whiled her Hfe away in the pur- 
 suit of the shallow entertainments of now one resort, 
 now another, on the monthly stipend granted her by my 
 father. Suddenly they both reappeared in San Fran- 
 cisco, living together as before, but with a certain show 
 of secrecy that might be thought alarming. 
 
 Then policemen in plain clothes and private detectives 
 were hired by my father to watch over Cora and guard 
 her. As if she were not fully able to take care of her- 
 self, as if a dozen such as the mother and the father 
 could take her away from anywhere to anywhere, unless 
 she wanted to go herself. 
 
 Then she was gone. 
 
 With her young schoolmates and the lady-teachers of 
 the house she had gone down-town, shopping. In front 
 of a large drygoods-store she had turned in the crowd 
 on the sidewalk and stepped into a carriage waiting at 
 the curb with the door open, her mother being seated in 
 the carnage, which had then leisurely gone away. 
 
 Now she was in hiding. But soon all hiding was 
 superfluous. 
 
 My father sinking ! Sinking hour by hour ! Helpless, 
 often unconscious, not even recognizing his wife, when 
 
 115 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANIJS 
 
 she came, sent by Richard ! Nothing now remaining but 
 wandering thoughts of me ! TelHng me of the little boy, 
 who had loved him so, and whom he had left on the old 
 wharf to drown ! 
 
 Tlie last morning early, I had brought little Harry to 
 him. It was but a moment. His eyes cleared. He 
 looked into mine as if to pour all his love into them. He 
 laid my hand with his on little Harry's, as if giving 
 him into my keeping. He made a movement for easier 
 resting, still keeping my hand in his, and turning his 
 face to mine with a shy little smile, such as he may 
 when a baby have given his peasant foster mother on 
 awakening in the morning, and then closed his eyes for- 
 ever. 
 
 It will always be to me one of the strangest things 
 that my father, who knew not what it is to be afraid, 
 should have been so bashful, blushing, unable to com- 
 municate to others anything that made up his inner life, 
 incapable almost of addressing a stranger shy of his 
 best friends, his own children, while Richard Alanus, 
 who in the language of slang had no end of gall, was bare 
 of all regard, consideration, respect and common decency. 
 And Richard was a coward. 
 
 Not alone from what I learned of him from others, I 
 myself saw and knew the coward in him all the time. In 
 his room, tied down, beaten and beaten, half strangled 
 and half unconscious yet as I was from his drug, I saw it. 
 On the mountain, trying to shoot, the coward showed so 
 plain in him, in all consciousness of my danger a great 
 contempt for him arose in me. At my father's funeral 
 where we met again, how his lips grew white and he 
 slunk away and fled the town ! 
 
 And again, the last time, a couple of days after, on the 
 old North road winding up the defile above Fountain 
 Head, where I had followed him, after I had learned 
 from Cora what he had done to little Harry, she threaten- 
 
 ii6 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ing me with like treatment if ever I came in his power, 
 speaking the truth as well she knew, where I had fol- 
 lowed him and met him, not so far from the place 
 where he had wanted to kill me. Coming round the 
 sharp corner of the bare cliff with the lone tree near the 
 top, he jumped behind the rocks and shot at me! And 
 when I fell, pretending to be hit, and lay as if dead 
 amongst the loose rocks and tall weeds and brush at the 
 side below the road, and he had fired at me again and 
 again and when I did not move, and he had loaded his 
 gun anew, and came crouching, double-bent to crawl away 
 behind the rocks by me, with shaking gun pointed, the 
 eyes turned to look, and he saw me. There was abject 
 fear in his face, and a death-start wlicn his eyes met mine, 
 that one instant before T fired I 
 
 If I had not killed him? 
 
 To my father no further harm could come. 
 
 But my little brother ! 
 
 Not alone the inhuman treatment already begun, tor- 
 turing the little defenceless crippled child be continued, 
 but every vice, every vileness would by Richard Alanus 
 be taught, instilled. Cora herself was not safe from him 
 as an object for practicing corruption. Only being his 
 offspring, as cruel, mean, malevolent, but far more crattv 
 and utterly fearless, she would always be more than his 
 equal. 
 
 And I? 
 
 He had tried to kill me, had he not ? More than once ! 
 If too much afraid to try again himself, he could hire 
 others to do it as he did before. It was not in my 
 intentions, but when I jumped up from amongst the rock 
 and dry weeds and brush, and saw him dead at my feet 
 I felt the ban of evil over my life was broken. 
 
 And oh, the bounding of the heart! Freed! De- 
 livered ! 
 
 117 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 August. 
 
 This morning I walked along the waterfront, north 
 and south. The most of it is new, but much of it still 
 looks familiar to me. Plenty of small buildings are left 
 on the streets. The lower stories are occupied chiefly by 
 cheap eating houses and drinking houses, with bright- 
 painted fronts and gilding and cut glass. The upper 
 stories, if there are any, are quite a few unoccupied. 
 
 I did not go up any of the side-streets, but kept mainly 
 along the waterfront. The warehouses, I fancied, looked 
 much like the old ones. The wharves are called piers 
 now, and they are, almost all of them enclosed and roofed 
 over, and the spaces in between are fenced in with high 
 board fences, so that one can hardly get even a glimpse 
 of the bay and harbor anywhere, at least from the water- 
 front street. 
 
 Pretty well up on the nearest hill I saw one house 
 which I remember to have seen in former days. All the 
 rest looked entirely strange to me, and it felt almost like 
 coming home to get back to the Ferry Station. 
 
 Bootblack-boys there are far less than formerly, I see. 
 The very many stationary bootblack-stands must spoil the 
 business for the wandering bootblack boys, of whom in 
 fact I saw but two. Italians, I took them to be. They 
 were in front of a low-class beer-saloon, coaxing a 
 couple of drunken sailors to have their shoes shined. It 
 made me think of the first nickel I earned by blacking 
 the shoes of a drunken sailor in the doorway of, for 
 all I know, this very saloon. 
 
 I spoke to a man working at a very stylish bootblack- 
 stand on the next street-corner, telling him I was think- 
 ing of buying such a stand or fitting one up, and asking 
 him about the business. T could not at all make out his 
 replies. T believe he tried to speak English. I think it 
 must be a good business, or there would not be so many 
 in it. But some employments must be overdone, for 
 
 ii8 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 instance the fruit business. Fruitsellers are very numer- 
 ous. Besides the regular fruit stores, every hundred 
 yards or so, wagons loaded with fruit stand on every 
 street. And fruit stands round the Ferries are impro- 
 vised at all points. A good many of these fruitsellers are 
 apparently Italians. But they are of all nationalities, I 
 suppose. Some have a little push-cart with a top for the 
 display. Others have but a board on two wooden horses 
 for a stand ; or their goods are merely spread out on the 
 wharf-stringer or on the bottom of an upturned, empty 
 barrel. 
 
 One little Italian woman I spoke to. I had noticed 
 her being all the time very busy and fussy about her 
 little cart with boxes and papers and piles of fruits and 
 nuts, rearranging and building them up into different 
 pyramids continually. As long as she thought I meant 
 to buy something she spoke very pleasantly and very 
 good English. Business was not very good, she said; 
 the profits were rather large, but the fruits were such 
 a trouble, they spoilt so quickly, and the competition was 
 too great. When she came to see that I did not mean to 
 buy anything her tone and manner changed, and even 
 lier English, for the worse. When she went out, she 
 said, she would always put some money in her pocket 
 for spending, be it ever so little. That was the way to 
 do ! And then she would buy and be done and not keep 
 people from tending to their business. Some people 
 talked too much with their mouth. 
 
 And truly, I had not spoken ten words, she had done 
 all the talking. However, I gave her a nickel for a paper 
 of peaches and went away to where I had seen a little 
 newsboy who had but one leg. The other was off below 
 the knee, and he had a wooden stick for the leg, just like 
 little Harry. He saw me looking at him and came stilting 
 over to where I stood. I asked him would he give me a 
 newspaper for the fruit. I don't really know why I did it. 
 
 119 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 I did not want the paper. He hesitated and then handed 
 nie a paper and took the peaches, when another, bigger 
 newsboy came rushing up and shouted, kicked and struck 
 at the httle fellow, cursing him with the foulest names 
 so that I interfered. It seemed the smaller one was 
 selling newspapers for the bigger boy on commission, or 
 whatever the arrangement was between them. I be- 
 lieve they vv ere brothers. I handed back the newspaper im- 
 mediately, saying I had never meant to keep it. The little 
 one reminded me of Harry very much, but he had a 
 crutch. 
 
 Many men were selling newspapers. And one u'oman, 
 I saw. Some of the men are armless or legless, or with 
 one arm off, or blind, or otherwise maimed, till, to draw 
 it strongly, it seems as though half the cripples of the 
 town were selling newspapers at the Ferry Station. And 
 it is perhaps more painful to see so many able-bodied 
 men selling newspapers for a living. One I had noticed 
 yesterday as being very active, lugging an immense arm- 
 ful of newspapers, hustling, going long distances in all 
 directions to wait on people; and always touching his 
 h.at to anybody that bought a newspaper from him. 
 
 Formerly one would not have seen any woman or any 
 grown-up, able-bodied man here selling newspapers that 
 way ; and one would never have seen anybody here touch 
 the hat to anybody for buying something from him. 
 
 I spoke to the man. He was an Irishman. I told him 
 1 had come to town from the country and had some 
 thought of trying to make a living by selling newspapers. 
 And I asked his opinion of the project, which he gave 
 most openly and friendly. He said it was a good busi- 
 ness. The competition, of course was great; the boys 
 being more nimble caught the customers before a man 
 could rccich them ; on the fly so to say. And really very 
 few boys, and girls too, were selling newspapers from 
 necessity as a man or a woman would be. But, after 
 
 I20 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 all a ])oy had as good a right to sell a newspaper as a 
 man. 
 
 He was so talkative and grew so communicative, en- 
 tering into his own personal affairs that he quite neglected 
 his business in telling how it should be carried on, till 
 some, probably daily customers signaled to him from 
 afar, and he went to serve them, calling to me that he 
 would see me again some time. 
 
 August. 
 
 I walked all around the city-waterfront to-day from 
 one end to the other. I came to where the old wharf 
 used to be. I stood and looked and looked and tried 
 to locate it, but I could not. Every sign of it is gone. 
 Where once it stood in the water of the bay, now is 
 solid ground. There are streets, blocks of buildings, rail- 
 way-tracks with freight-cars standing on them, grain- 
 sheds, oil tanks, manufacturing plants, more railway- 
 tracks and sheds. Where the old wharf must have been, 
 everything is totally changed. Even the farther hills 
 of the city with streets cut through, lots graded down 
 and houses built, have lost their shape. 
 
 I walked the streets in all directions, not a single 
 mark of the old place could I find. Yes, one! The old 
 brewery! Mr. Tem Oldock's old brewery! It seems to 
 be some sort of storage-place now. This being Sunday, 
 it was closed. Alongside are a few small dwellings, a 
 box-factory, oil-works and a vinegar-still. 
 
 During those last months before my father died I 
 u.-.ed to have little Harry go with me on my afternoon 
 tramps, and one time also my father came to look at the 
 old place, and the shoreline of the bay was yet to be 
 traced. Now all that has been extinguished by the filling- 
 iu round-about where extended the water. The beach 
 where tlie boys used to go in swimming, the sandy 
 -tretch with the knoll at the point where my father used 
 to meet me, the road at the water's edge where the stable 
 
 121 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 stood, where every day I went for fresh water, it is as 
 though all those things never had been. 
 
 To see the old brewery made me call up Mahon's 
 picture. The big, handsome, whole-souled boy with the 
 round, red cheeks and shining white teeth and the bright, 
 blue eyes with the long, black lashs ! The earlier picture 
 of him in my mind shows a more laughing face, laughing 
 even at his own mishaps. The later picture, somewhat 
 obscures the first one. But the face is always bright, 
 and the big fellow is always the little boys' friend; 
 never to hit or haze one smaller than himself, always 
 ready to do any kindness asked. But you had to ask. 
 
 He must be thirty years old now or thirty-one if he is 
 living. I cannot think that he is dead. 
 
 I walked over to the edge of the sea-wall where the 
 filling forms a quay, and then I walked out the several 
 wharves that are as yet unenclosed. The longest one of 
 them runs, I fancied, somewhat in the same direction that 
 our old wharf did, only farther out. And as I stood at 
 the end of it there came to me a feeling as though after 
 all nothing was changed. The raw day, the sharp air, 
 the cold wind, damp with fog, the tide below rushing by, 
 and the shipping, the big ferry-boats, and beyond the 
 water the bare, dull hills, it all was the same as in years 
 past. And least changed of all I myself, the same that I 
 always was. 
 
 I spoke to a man sitting by himself on the wharf- 
 stringer at one side, a line in his hand, idly fishing. There 
 (lid not seem to be much fishing going on, I told him, in 
 former years there been more, I thought. 
 
 So there had, he answered, so there had, but it had 
 been spoiled; some people would still go out on the 
 wharves to fish when there was a little run, but nothing 
 like the crowds there used to be. The fish had been 
 driven away by the filling in. The fishermen now went 
 outside the Heads to fish: for crabs along the shore just 
 
 122 
 
CHROXICLES Of MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 outside the breakers, for fish farther out and in steam- 
 craft. 
 
 Finding him posted and wilHng to talk, if in a grum- 
 bHng way, I asked him if there had not been somewhere 
 thereabout in former years a long spile-bridge, or wharf. 
 
 Oh, yes, he said, but it was all gone now; the place 
 had been all filled in. Some years ago, at very low tide 
 some of the old piling of the old wharf had yet shown 
 above the rock and dirt of the filling; after that it had 
 all been covered; the last remnant of the old wharf, the 
 outermost end of it had been located about where now 
 a railway-shed, he indicated, terminated. It had stood 
 there in the water for years with part of an old shed on 
 it, slowly rotting away, all abandoned and quite cut oflF 
 from shore. One stormy night a good many seasons 
 ago it had broken loose and been washed away and carried 
 out to sea by the tide. 
 
 The man as he spoke seemed to look at me in a pecu- 
 liar vv-ay as if lie were trying to remember me. I began 
 myself to think T had met him before. Could he have 
 seen me in prison ? Imagination ! Once before, the first 
 day here, I fancied that a woman was looking at me as 
 if she had seen me in prison and was recognizing me. 
 
 Away with such delusions ! 
 
 Oh! I do struggle and battle, but every day new, 
 darkening thoughts come trying to drag me to despair. 
 
 The old shed on the wreck of the old wharf drifting 
 out to sea with the rushing tide in the black of the night ! 
 
 Image of my life! 
 
 Why live? For what? Is not my life past? Make 
 an end ! Drift with the tide into the ocean of eternity ! 
 
 My only hope my brother ! 
 
 Evening. 
 
 I went out again, went to see the house, my father's 
 house, the old warehouse where we lived. I could not 
 help it, I had to go. I found the place easily enough. 
 
 1^3 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 The street in a manner looks as it did. The houses are 
 new and different, nearly all of them, but the description 
 of business carried on there is pretty much unchanged. 
 I was prepared for our house looking very different, since 
 some time ago I read in prison, coming accidentally upon 
 an item about it in an old newspaper, that the old building 
 was to be raised by hydraulic machinery and built-under 
 and otherwise altered. It is now five stories high and 
 all occupied by professional people. 
 
 Many fancy trimmings have been put on the front. 
 But in spite of that and the absence of iron shutters, the 
 windows of the two upper stories wore a well-known 
 look. Above in the top story there were the four win- 
 dows of our large, living room with the two windows of 
 Cora's room adjoining; in the story below this the four 
 windows of the bank and the two windows of my father's 
 private office, where I always found him awaiting our re- 
 turn, when with little Harry I came back from our after- 
 noon's roaming, that last season. 
 
 I seem to remember each day of that season. It was 
 quite wet, or rather, damp. There were no more than 
 one or two regvilar, heavy rain-storms, nor any continu- 
 ously heavy rains but weeks of cloudy skies with some 
 very few fine days in between and great many of fog; 
 not the driving sea-fog of the dry season but the still 
 fogs from the inland valleys, turning, may be into a 
 drizzle nights. But if constantly damp and moist, it was 
 never wet enough to keep us from going out. 
 
 And where did we not go? To the nearer hill tops 
 where we could look down on the flat roofs of the low^er 
 town and on the bay with the ferry-boats and the other 
 craft moving on the pale surface. Sometimes we w^ent 
 through the Chinese streets ; sometimes along the water- 
 front to see the shipping and talk of my shipboy life; 
 out to where the old w^harf was now breaking up, where 
 
 124 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 I showed Harry the shed I had slept in when his father 
 
 found me. 
 
 And when it now grew dusk, and we returned home- 
 ward through the murky streets, I for an excuse to my- 
 self as much as to him, protesting that the little one leg 
 must be tired, and taking him up carried him, sitting on 
 my arms in front of me, his face to mine, his arms clasp- 
 ing my neck, his wooden leg-stick and his foot sticking out 
 behind. Round the last corner we v.'ould come in sight 
 of our house, grimly dark in the gathering gloom of the 
 night, and would see the lighted-up windows of my 
 father's room, and knew there he was waiting for us, 
 sitting at his desk or in the arm cliair by the fireplace 
 waiting for me— the thrust of joy in my heart! The 
 gratefulness ! The exquisite delight of all the sensations 
 awakened by the thought of him ! My happiness ! 
 
 And the sweet comfort of the place in the shaded light 
 of the lamps and the quiet glow of the fire in the hearth! 
 And he turning to me ! His smile ! The love in his eyes ! 
 
 He would call me son, as in playfulness And he 
 could not hide from me the tender satisfaction he felt, 
 though I knew not why, in but calling me so as if in play. 
 And the struggle not to give way too much to his fond- 
 ness of heart ! 
 
 August. 
 
 I am like one adrift. It is that that gives me such a 
 longing to be back in prison where everything was shaped 
 to order, where every hour had its certain work, where I 
 had no need to plan and plot, nor care how to provide for 
 the next day, had only to do every day my allotted work, 
 
 my duty ? 
 
 And were not my ways well smoothed for me, es- 
 pcciallv after the new Director came into office? Was 
 
 125 
 
CHRONJCLES Of MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 I not well treated, favored beyond example, given in- 
 struments, encouraged to practise, brought to play the 
 organ in chapel, given books to read, detailed for library 
 work, persuaded to wiite, put to do garden-work and 
 granted every privilege, often permitted great freedom 
 of intercourse with Ullard, my instructor, in all kinds 
 of gardening up to the day of his death! 
 
 To Ullard more yet than to the Director do I owe my 
 salvation. 
 
 What contrast ! He, not only a criminal, but master of 
 all the vices of men, as he styled himself ! And to me a 
 saviour ! And why to me? Because I was so young, one 
 might say, a child? 
 
 No! He had not that special fondness for children 
 that some men have, criminals as well as others. He 
 rather had an aversion to them, claiming they were too 
 much like him, for him to Uke ; asserting that it was 
 as unnatural for children to be fond of children as for 
 animals to be fond of other animals ; even insisting that 
 no healthy, well to do child would be fond of anybody, 
 not excepting its ovv^i mother; but that where some 
 child really loved some one, something was wrong with it, 
 either it was ill, consumptive, starved, or unhappy, mal- 
 treated, or of an abnormally developed sexual instinct. 
 
 What all have I not heard him say against children? 
 He called them criminals, savages, beasts of prey, per- 
 petrators of every kind of cruelty, addicted to every 
 vice ! And ridiculing the saying that of such is the king- 
 dom of Heaven, he turned it into: of such is the empire 
 
 of hell! 
 
 No! His was not an affectionate nature at all. He 
 did not want to save me because he was fond of me and 
 wanted me to be fond of him. It was, I conclude, prin- 
 cipally the interest he took in this, his own work, the 
 whole of it, like a game he was playing and while play- 
 ing observing its effects on me, on himself, on all con- 
 
 126 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ceriied. It was that that made him take me in charsre ; 
 to let me make clear to myself the gemiine stupidity and 
 misery of a life of crime ; to explain and bring to my con- 
 sciousness the actual state of the prison-world we lived 
 in, so as to make me understand my surroundings, that I 
 should be able to withstand their deadly influence ; con- 
 vince me of its possibility as of its utmost necessity, and 
 teach me, swear me to total abnegation and renunciation ! 
 
 No, indeed ! He was not tenderly fond of me, nor 
 anything like it. But in a way he liked me, I believe. 
 He liked me as one he was doing right by, bringing 
 out'to his own perception and appreciation, his own feel- 
 ing what was left in him of manliness, helpfulness and 
 good. And if lie did not want me to be fond of him, he 
 did let me like liim. let me think, even if it was not true, 
 and go on thinking, that he cared for my attachment. 
 
 And this was to me the greatest good that he con- 
 ferred. This together with the hope of being pardoned 
 some time which he never allowed me to lose, was really 
 my salvation. For I had to like and believe in some one, 
 and to hope for something. If he had not suffered me 
 to attach myself to him, if he had destroyed my faith 
 in him and all hope of deliverance from imprisonment, as 
 he took away my belief in pretty nearly everything else, 
 all his teaching and telling, all his other treatment of me 
 would have been vain. 
 
 Another factor in him was, no doubt, his vanity, the 
 human vanity common to us all, that most potent agency 
 within us, of which he himself claimed for his own people 
 of his own American country the possession of the largest 
 share of any. It flattered him as it, I dare say, would 
 flatter anybody, to be made out such a superior being, 
 seeing how I clung to him, believed in him and took 
 most if not all of his words as the essence of all that is 
 true and wise. For if at times I could not help suspect- 
 ing that we felt different on many and very important 
 
 T27 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 points, observing the many inconsistencies of his pro- 
 fessed opinions, this too was only part of his plan to 
 make me independent in my reasoning. I never contra- 
 dicted him and thus oftener made him contradict himself, 
 which he would unfailingly do if left alone, going on 
 arguing with himself till he had gone clean half round 
 the compass and at last asserted what he had started in 
 to disprove. 
 
 For these occasions, in fact for any occas-on, he had 
 the saying that everything that is true is at the same time 
 not true, which then I thought a wonderfully deep ex- 
 pression but afterwards came to take for but another 
 way of saying that circumstances alter cases. 
 
 Of such sayings of his the majority were only com- 
 monplace-ones, worded to sound paradoxical and daz- 
 zle me, which they certainly did and helped to increase 
 his influence over me. But that influnce he never used 
 but for my good. I know now that I overrated him, that 
 I gave him credit for much that others prepared the 
 soil for in me and sowed the seeds of, everyone who 
 taught me morals and manners, gave me principles and 
 taught me to work and to think. Perhaps I underrate 
 him now as much as I overrated him before. 
 
 I see him sitting before me, the long Yankee figure 
 bent, leaning back, one foot lifted up against the bunk, 
 his long, thin legs thrown one over the other and twisted 
 round till they looked as if nothing could ever again 
 untwist them ; his bony arms hugging his knees, his cold, 
 grayish eyes watching me, his ever open mouth drawn 
 down sideways in constant readiness to run over with 
 arguments, experiences, philosophizings, lecturings, all 
 shaped in phrases, which just as often he had somewhere 
 heard or read as by himself constructed. 
 
 I suppose the tiresomeness of it all would now about 
 overwhelm me. Yet some of his coimsel seex-ns to be al- 
 ways with me. Mv very giving way these past days to 
 
 128 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL A LAN US 
 
 recollections, recalls the time I told Ullard I was at the 
 Director's suggestion noting down some happenings of 
 my early life, and he advised me not to give way to such 
 reminiscences too much but to strive to control a certain 
 emotional tendency within myself. 
 
 His death I like to think of. Had I ever had any 
 shrinking from the consideration of death, puch shrink- 
 ing must by his death have been taken away from me. 
 No man after his full day's work was done, can lay him- 
 self down to peaceful rest and to sleep with more con- 
 tent and ease than he laid himself down to die. And 
 he left me able to care for myself. 
 
 I have an aim and I live to accomplish it. I want 
 to rind my brother. He may be near here. He may be 
 anywhere. Most likely he is in England. His mother 
 wanted to live in England, I always understood. She 
 was partly of English descent. She was about to start 
 for England with Cora and Harry at the time I went to 
 prison, that is all I know. 
 
 There must be some way of finding out where she 
 and the children are. If I had plenty of money, I sup- 
 pose I should have to do nothing but apply to some 
 detective agency. But all that is out of the question; no 
 less than the use of any public newspaper. However, 
 the property my father left when he died must have been 
 large and valuable. I know his will, the only will he 
 ever made, the old will he had made the day he married, 
 gave everything to his wife. But it must have been 
 settled in some court of law. At least I think so; and 
 there must be some record of such proceedings some- 
 where, records that somebody should be able to get at. 
 Only I don't know just how; I know so little of such 
 matters. And I am not acquainted and can not move 
 freely. I must have time and opportunity. 
 
 There must be people here, too, who knew my father 
 and were enough interested in him and his to follow 
 
 129 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 the movements of his widow and children. Though I 
 don't know about that. His circle of personal acquaint- 
 ances was small and he was nowise a member of what is 
 called Society. Nor was his wife after she had left him 
 recognized by that same Society. 
 
 Mrs. Sullivan would know ; but where is she ? Or 
 Smith would know, our head clerk. Perhaps I could find 
 out where he is. But again, I must have a little time, 
 if only to obtain a directory and look up names. 
 
 In the very first place, I must find something to do to 
 make my living, to save a little money too, at the same 
 time. And I also must make myself acquainted again 
 with the city and its people and life. 
 
 Thus there is the first question: What to do for a 
 living. That was talked over with the Director. Only 
 1 could never tell him how much my hope of finding 
 my brother was to me, and everything else as of no con- 
 sequence except as bearing on that, misleading him to 
 a great extent. 
 
 I should like best to teach music, give lessons on any 
 of the instruments I play. I am well satisfied that I 
 should soon qualify myself for that, and it might early 
 bring me in contact with people from whom I could 
 hear of Harry. But how can I risk going into that? I 
 should have to hire suitable rooms, rent an expensive 
 piano, buy some fine clothes. And then, what? 
 
 Evening. 
 
 Funny that it should have cost me an exertion to leave 
 the waterfront, to go away from the water up the 
 streets into the town! But I did actually have to force 
 myself to it. Which means, to be sure, no more than that 
 1 boarded a street-car and rode out into the unknown 
 to the end of the line, where I walked round a little 
 and changing my seat to the other side of the car, rode 
 back again to the Ferry Station, where I boarded a car of 
 
 130 
 
CHRONICLES OF MAXUEL ALANUS 
 
 another line and repeated the action. And so on all 
 day. 
 
 Almost the whole town passes in review that way. 
 What a lot of houses I 
 
 From the crown of the hills to look down on all the 
 lionses gave me a peculiar feeling. Who lives in all these 
 houses? What are all these dwellers? What do they 
 do? How do they live? Why are they so crowded to- 
 gether?" It put me in mind of the prison. It is like a 
 prison. 
 
 Down town are many magnificent buildings. Every 
 where all seem new. And again, but I can not say why, 
 the new look like the old. Of the dwelling-houses far- 
 ther out, the very newest built look somehow as though 
 they were nothing but old, well-known dwellings, made 
 over with new fronts. 
 
 The main business streets are full of life, and if they 
 do not appear to me any livelier than formerly, it is. I 
 judge, because I was so much smaller. One half of the 
 life and much more than one half of all the noise of the 
 streets is made by the street-cars. They all converge 
 at the Ferry Depot. There is the starting point or end- 
 ing point of all of them, direct or indirect, indicating 
 at once how very much as if on an island this town is 
 built. And the other ending of niost of the car lines is 
 at the Park. I brought up at the Park, too. 
 
 It was noon-time and I went into a small cooking shop, 
 where I got what the man of the place called a regular 
 dinner for fifteen cents. There was only this one man 
 in the place, acting as cook and waiter, and being, I took 
 it, the proprietor. And I w^as the only customer. When 
 I entered the man was poring over a book, which looked 
 like a ledger lying on a little desk at the end of the 
 counter, and to which he returned as soon as he had 
 served my meal, and kept on poring over it, till I had 
 finished eating and stepped up to the counter to pay. 
 
 13^ 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 As he looked quite disturbed, perspiring indeed, I asked 
 him what was wrong. He replied with an oath that the 
 accounts would not balance, and though it sounded rather 
 queer for such an insignificant business, I found that he 
 kept a full set of double-entry books. I told him if I 
 could assist him, I should be glad to do so, being ac- 
 quainted with bookkeeping. I suppose the man's vanity 
 to show his books had more to do with his accepting my 
 offer than any wish to be hel]>ed out of his difficulty. 
 He took me behind his counter to his ledger, where I 
 immediately detected an ordinary and very conspicuous 
 addition error. But when I showed it to him, I saw he 
 did not like it. So to soothe his feelings, I said this was 
 just one of those mistakes which the best bookkeepers 
 make. hx\(\ I went on to tell him of some absurd mis- 
 takes I knew or had heard of being made by expert book- 
 keepers, when he interrupted me, sneering; he supposed 
 I considered myself an expert! That was not at all the 
 error ! And he finished by ordering me from behind the 
 counter, where I had no business, and out of his place. 
 
 At the moment I felt only surprised, but presently I 
 began to feel vexed. Turning into the Park, I took the 
 first path leading into denser groves, there in reclusion to 
 compose myself and to find out what was the matter 
 with me. 
 
 It could not be the surliness of the man that hurt me. 
 It must be my defenceless position, that is, my conscious- 
 ness of it. Suppose, I had retorted as one might say I 
 oueht to have done, a row would have followed, which 
 the aggressiveness of the man made quite probable, and T 
 .«ihould have had to pocket worse humiliation or risked 
 being arrested. And then the jailbird would have stood 
 discovered. After awhile, however, I found that this 
 was not so much the true cause of my mortification as 
 that I felt vexed at myself. What business had I to offer 
 my assistance to the man when even at the time I com- 
 
 132 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 prehended that he must be a sort of crank with his 
 double entry for such a business. I am always ready to 
 do those things : trying to do people favors which are not 
 wanted. And the abuse I got was no more than I 
 deserved. 
 
 After that I soon saw the occurrence in its true comic 
 light and could laugh at myself. 
 
 That is what I prize most I think, that I can see and 
 enjoy what is absurd even in myself. 
 
 Perhaps I ought to prize still more what Ullard used 
 to call my capacity for happiness, the gladness of life; 
 only, that such capacity to me seems to include the 
 reverse: that such people who feel greater joy also feel 
 greater grief and unhappiness. I believe that naturally 
 I incline to be light-hearted and cheerful, that ^ do possess 
 the faculty, or ability or power to be happy with the joy 
 life brings. My spells or turns of melancholy, which 
 never last long, seem to me not part of my nature at 
 all, but entirely foreign to me, only accidentally planted 
 in me or evolved by the experiences of my life. At 
 other times, I must admit, melancholy, sadness, however 
 short its stay with me, however little able to subdue for 
 any length of time my happiness, still appears to be the 
 true essence of my life, of all life, and the joy thereof 
 only passing by upboilings of animal spirits. I reckon 
 finally it all belongs together. One thing is sure, that I 
 have happy spirits as I have health. 
 
 The shrubs and trees in the large park are nearly all 
 evergreens. The flowers are very beautiful. I walked 
 as far as the children's play-ground, where a good many 
 women and children were congregated in spite of the 
 chilliness of the day, now at little more than the height 
 of the dry season, with the fog driven in first-hand by 
 the trade-winds from the sea. 
 
 As I came to where the goats and donkeys for the 
 children are for hire, a little girl stepped out of a donkey- 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 cart right in front of me. She looked so smihng and 
 happy that 1 could not help asking her if she had en- 
 joyed her ride. She answered pleasantly: "Yes, sir!" 
 And being rather crowded and pushed by other children 
 and the goats and donkeys, she put out her hand for me 
 to take in mine, asking, ''Won't you take me to mother ?" 
 pointing to some women sitting on a bench, a short dis- 
 tance away. 
 
 I can not say how much this simple little act of con- 
 fidence of the little thmg pleased me. I took her up, 
 lifting her over the fence of the goat-drive and brought 
 her through the crowd to near where the woman was 
 sitting, when she left me to run to the mother, nodding 
 and calling out, "That man brought me back," so funnily 
 proud, everybody smiled. 
 
 Such a trifle to gladden one's heart! 
 
 At one of the nearest side-entrances to the Park, I 
 took a street-car to go out to the beach, keeping on the 
 south side of the Park all the way out. I then left the 
 car and walked south along the beach a short way. Had 
 the day been fine, I doubt not but that I should have 
 given myself up to recollections of that beautiful day my 
 father took me and Harry here, or a little farther south. 
 But the wind set me cowering in the tall reedy grass of 
 the sand-dunes, edging the beach. A gentleman was 
 doing the same near me, and we fell into such a con- 
 versation as I suppose is commonly carried on in such 
 a case. We told each other that the wind was not ao 
 high out there as in town, nor the fog so heavy, only half 
 veiling the horizon above the white of the breakers and 
 leaving the rocks of Point San Pedro fairly visible, re- 
 sembling some lumpy turret-battleship in the changeful 
 haze, but that it was windy and cold and foggy enough, 
 such as it always was, the trouble with the weather in 
 California being that the air Vv-as always cold from the 
 cold sea, be the sunshine clear and burning. We re- 
 
 134 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 liuirked tliat the tide being high, tlie walking in the loose 
 sand at the npper edge of the beach was very tiring. 
 We pointed out to each other where the Farallones Is- 
 lands would be visible if it were clear and we counted 
 the number of sailing craft, big and small, with tugs 
 amongst them and steam-coasters hovering near the har- 
 bor's entrance, partly discernible in the mist, also the 
 gasoline fishing-boats, keeping just outside the breakers, 
 and a large steamship, heading north, informing each 
 otlier, too, that we should not like to be one of the men in 
 any one of the small fishing-boats. We also commented 
 on the long stretch of sandy beach and found fault with its 
 beins", although fine, so verv bare, without any seaweed, 
 pebbles, shells, or any such decorative articles. And we 
 deplored in unison tl;at even for bathing, for which it 
 would be all the more adapted, it was practically unfit, as 
 was well known, from the icy coldness of the water, the 
 boisterousness of the surf and the irresistibility of the 
 back-tow. Then, all visible objects of conversation being 
 exhausted, we smilingly parted and I, completely chilled 
 through started on a brisk walk back through the Park the 
 whole lensfth to the main entrance, from where I rode to 
 tlie Ferry Station in a street -car of a line on the north 
 side of the city, where are most of the best class of private 
 residences of the town to-day. They are to my taste a lit- 
 tle too shov/y and pretentious, and the grounds likewise. 
 "Xot enough grouping!" Ullard Vvould say. There is a 
 commendable tendency however of reducing the grounds. 
 That is, the newer places have less and plainer grounds 
 tlian the older ones. And the increase in the value of the 
 building lots has. I believe, less to do with it than the in- 
 crease of good taste. For assuredly a city-residence 
 ought not to have a park surrounding it like a country- 
 manor, nor a garden like a village-dwelling, nor even 
 shrubbery, which may be permitted at a suburban place. 
 The flowers are magnificently beautiful everywhere. 
 
 135 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 1 am still thinking of that little girl. How confidingly 
 she put her hand into mine! Her eyes reminded me of 
 Harry's: a little deep-set and of the same pure blue. 
 
 August. 
 
 I should like to stay here in this house. My room just 
 suits me. It is sunny and lively with the life outside 
 from an hour before sunrise till after midnight. I seem 
 to like the noise and somehow it feels natural for me 
 to be near the waterfront. But I mu.st live in a cheaper 
 way. I must look for other lodgings. 
 
 Undecided ! Restless ! Unsettled ! Sometimes I think 
 I shall henceforth be that all my life. Every day toward 
 nightfall comes to me the longing to be back in prison. 
 There are times when I feel as if really now my mind 
 was made up to go back and apply for the situation of 
 prison-gardener. 
 
 Again at times I have a perfect craving to get away 
 from the city and all these people in it, into the country, 
 into the solitude of the mountains; to be once more in 
 the great forest, clambering down the ravine under the 
 towering pines through the bush and brush in the sun's 
 hot breath striking back from the bare rocks, or to be at 
 Five Oaks on my horse, going over the hills after the 
 cattle. Oh, the hills after the rains in their glory of wild 
 flowers! Or to be at my father's place, making the 
 rounds of the orchards and vineyards, fields and pastures 
 through the hidden canyons with their close growth of 
 buckeye, oak and laurel, opening from between the swell- 
 ing foot-hills into the level valleys, with the cattle in 
 the shade of the low-spreading oaks ! 
 
 One oak tree stood there, its branches outstretched as 
 if in welcome. I often put my arms on it. I should know 
 it yet, and think it knew me. 
 
 Or to be at sea, going down the coast with a fair 
 wind, leaning, half lying over with arms spread on the 
 deck-load of lumber, the idle summer Sunday hours ; 
 
 136 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 not listening to the swish of the water, nor conscious of 
 the sway of the vessel, watching the slowly opening or 
 shutting chains of bare hills and bleak mountains of the 
 coast, a whale spouting close in shore, to windward the 
 drawn-out, thin smoke-pendant of some steamer passing 
 below the horizon, the sea In the distance like a sheet of 
 polished silver under the light of the sun, hidden by the 
 high fog from where the vessel is driving, the flight of a 
 solitary flying fish darting away to leeward I And agarn 
 the hills and mountains shifting, their crest lost in the 
 fog hanging down halfway over them ! 
 
 I think these things, wandering about the streets, and at 
 times I am like one unconscious and walk on blindly, 
 not noticing what I see and hear. 
 
 At other times I am all on fire with the hope of find- 
 ing my brother. I watch the crowds that come and go 
 by^the ferries and I hurry through them as if he must 
 be amcrxgst them, and as if I should know him when 
 I saw him. Once I actually felt sure I saw Mr. Tem 
 Oldock. And once I walked six blocks after a large, 
 stout boy that, I thought, looked like Mahon. As if 
 Mahon be not a man of over thirty years of age now. 
 In the restaurant where I take my meals, I study in 
 the daily papers the Society-news, to come across the 
 names of Tem Oldock and Alanus. But I never do. 
 It will pass away, all, I know. I have had such spells 
 before. Everybody has such spells, I think. 
 August. 
 
 This lodging house is run by two men; brothers they 
 seem to be. They occupy the smallest kind of room or 
 closet in the house, near the landing of the stairs, where 
 they sleep alternately, keeping a sort of watch and watch 
 like aboard ship, and where they cook their meals on a 
 gas-stove. I had been in that room the day I came, it 
 being in a way the office of the house. Since then I had 
 not seen either one of the two men till this morning 
 
 137 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 when 1 went to look for one of them in that room, to 
 ask if 1 could not get my room-rent reduced if I took 
 the room by the month. 
 
 In the office I noticed a City Directory lying on a shelf 
 behind the door, and while the man whom I found in the 
 room went to consult about my question with his partner, 
 who was making beds upstairs, I took the Directory and 
 turned over the leaves. 
 
 No Alanus was in the book. 
 
 I turned to the name of Tem Oldock and found it. 
 Both Mahon's name and his father's were there: Mr. 
 Tem Oldock residing in Boston, Massachusetts and 
 Mahon residing in Paris, France. Further a Tem 
 Oldock Block was mentioned and a Tem Oldock Com- 
 pany with the location given as Mexico and the business- 
 office here, in the Tem Oldock Block. 
 
 I was so excited I hardly minded the man coming 
 back from upstairs, telling me that they could make no 
 reduction in the rent, in fact did not care at all to let their 
 rooms by the month, but being a little slack of roomers 
 would let me keep mine at the present low rent. 
 
 I found on looking that the Directory was three years 
 old. I asked the man if he had no later one. He 
 grunted, ''No!" adding I could get one to look at in the 
 nearest drug-store. So I went to the nearest drug-store, 
 where I found chained to the counter an up to date 
 City Directory, which I was permitted to consult. 
 
 I found the names the same as in the first one ; but 
 besides the Tem Oldock Company there was a firm, 
 named John Tem Oldock and Son, with offices in the Tem 
 Oldock Block. 
 
 To look up the Tem Oldock Block, I had net far to go. 
 It is a large corner building, constructed almost entirely 
 of iron and steel, six stories high. On the corner of the 
 first story is a large banking business. The rest of the 
 building seems occupied by all kinds of brokers, commis- 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 sion-merchants, agents and such people. The name Tern 
 Oldock Block is over the main entrance, next to the bank, 
 in large gilt letters. 
 
 I went up in the doorway and looked ever all the 
 signboards. For the moment I could not see what I was 
 looking for. But they were right before me, two signs. 
 One read : John Tern Oldock and Son ; the other : Tem 
 Oldock Company. A number of people were going in 
 and out. Tlie elevator was constantly going up and down, 
 back of the entrance. Immediately behind the elevator, 
 was the stairs. I went up the stairs. In the second 
 story I found the names again on the ground-glass 
 panels of the doors of the corner offices, on each panel 
 under the names of the firms that of J. J. Towell. 
 
 And then I turned and walked away, back here to my 
 room. 
 
 Why should I go in ? What should I say ? What could 
 I find out that I do not already know ? It is plain enough. 
 Mahon and his father are partners. They are capitalists. 
 Their affairs have been put in such shape that others 
 manage it here while they both live abroad. ^,lv. Tem 
 Oldock lives in Boston ; that is his native place, I think. 
 He may have married again ; I think it very likely. 
 Mahon lives in Paris, France. He, I am sure is married, 
 has been married for years. I suppose their affairs have 
 been organized under different heads, like other large con- 
 cerns, I have heard and read of. Their interests in 
 Mexico are, I dare say, mines and railroads. 
 
 One thing is not clear to me: How can Mr. Tem 
 Oldock keep away from business? His business? His 
 property? That Mahon can be contented to lead the life 
 of a gentleman of leisure I can understand, brought up 
 to it, one might say, as he has been. Although I need but 
 think of those few weeks he was on my father's ranch, 
 the pleasure he then found in working, doing actual work, 
 the quickness with which he picked up what there was to 
 
 139 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 learn about the work, his Intense satisfaction in it, to see 
 that after all he was well fitted for work and business; 
 farm work and business at least. That he only needed to 
 be put to it to make a success of it. Still I can understand 
 that he, brought up to idleness, can live away from work 
 and business. Perhaps he has resided in Europe con- 
 tinuously since he went there that time with his father. 
 
 But that Mr. Tem Oldock, whose whole life was busi- 
 ness and the work of business should live away from It 
 and leave the management of liis affairs to others, I can 
 not get it Into my head. 
 
 Yet, what do I know? May be his interrjsts in Bos- 
 ton, in other parts of the country, in other countries for 
 that matter, are superior to his interests here, and he is 
 doing there just what 1 am blaming him for neglecting to 
 do here. 
 
 Anyway he is not here, and it is a blow to me. I must 
 have been convinced in spite of all my self-talk that I 
 should find him or Mahon here. I must secretly and 
 ^vithout at all knowing it have calculated on their being 
 here as something absolutely sure, or I could not possibly 
 be now so bitterly disappointed. It is to me as if I had 
 lost them now for good and all. 
 
 And if they were here, I should perhaps no more make 
 myself known to them than I could bring myself to give 
 Mr. Tem Oldock's name to the Prison Director to use 
 for obtaining my pardon, nor tell him anything about 
 knowing such a man. 
 
 Afternoon. 
 
 I went again to the Tem Oldock Block. I thought per- 
 liaps after all they might be here on a visit, or I might 
 find out something about their coming. And I think I 
 did. I planned I would go to the office to ask for work 
 of any kind at their possessions in Mexico. 
 
 In the hallway of the second story to the rear I saw 
 an old colored man who proved to be the janitor of the 
 
 140 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 building. 1 asked him if either one of the Messrs. Tern 
 Oldock was in their offices. He seemed very dull or 
 hard of hearing or loath to show his ignorance, but it 
 finally came out that he knew neither Mahon nor his 
 father, that although he had been janitor of the building 
 for years, almost since it had been built, he had never 
 seen either one or the other. I then asked him if he 
 knew if they were engaging any workmen for Mexico 
 in the Tem Oldock offices, as I was wanting to get work 
 there. 
 
 This moment a young man with a wallet in his hands, 
 full of papers which looked like rent-bills, came out of 
 one of the Tem Oldock offices and seeing the janitor, 
 walked past the elevator, up to him, to tell him something 
 I suppose, when the colored man, pointing to him, said to 
 me, "Ask him!" 
 
 He was quite a ycung man with a clean-scraped, 
 pimply face and a good deal of gold in his teeth, and an 
 air of importance such as a very young employee in any 
 business might have. 
 
 ''Are you engaging any men now. Sir! for work in 
 the lower country?" I asked him as he turned to me. 
 
 "The company?" he asked in return, "on the island? 
 on the ranch? at the wells? or the mines?" 
 
 He certainly spoke boastingly, but off-hand, openly 
 enough. 
 
 I said I should like to get work at either one of those 
 places, but if I had to give any preference it would be to 
 the ranch, I thought. 
 
 "Well," he replied, "we are not engaging any men now 
 at the ranch. What work can you do? Can you cook?" 
 
 I could do plain cooking, I told him. 
 
 "I thought you looked like you could cook." said he. 
 "Well, we don't need any cook now. We engaged a 
 cook last month for one of the mines. Fifty dollars! 
 
 141 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 And found, of course! We paid the passage, too. We 
 always do. He had only one eye." 
 
 I waited a second or two for something more to fol- 
 low and was about to speak again, when he resumed: 
 ''What more can you do? Can you drive a team of 
 horses?" 
 
 I answered, yes, I could take care of horses and do 
 any kind of work with them. 
 
 ''I thought you might," he said. "Well all our teaming 
 there is done with mules." 
 
 I ventured to give it as my opinion, that that would 
 hardly make any difference. 
 
 ''Oh, yes, it would," he cried. "A mule is a very 
 peculiar animal. We could not trust our mules with a 
 man, unless he were a regular muleteer. Is there noth- 
 ing at all else you can do?" 
 
 I said I could do gardening of any kind. And I should 
 be able and willing to do any kind of work I could get 
 to do, from ordinary clerking and shoveling coal to dish- 
 washing. 
 
 "Well," he answered, "we are not hiring any gardeners 
 at this moment, nor clerks, nor colliers, nor dishwashers. 
 In fact we are not hiring any help just now." 
 
 As he paused for a moment, I with a great effort 
 brought myself to ask: "Is Mr. Tern Oldock at the ranch 
 now, or is he at the mines?" 
 
 "Who? The old gentleman? The old gentleman is 
 not at the ranch, and he is not at the mines, and he is 
 not on the Pacific Cosst, and he has not been on the 
 Pacific Coast for many years." He spoke as if defying 
 me. 
 
 "The young gentleman ?" I hinted. 
 
 "Lord!" he exclaimed. "He has never yet been on 
 the Coast at all." 
 
 He was beginning to eye me suspiciously, I thought, 
 but yet I went on speaking, saying that I had heard 
 
 142 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 the young gentleman was living in Europe ainl going to 
 continue to live there. 
 
 ''You have?" he cried in his shrillest voice. "Well, 
 you have heard wrong then. He is going to do no such 
 thing. He has quitted Europe. He is in Boston if you 
 want to know. They are both at Boston at present, and 
 nobody knows when they are going to show up here." 
 
 And then as though becoming confusedly conscious 
 of having been drawn out, he rushed off, down-stairs, not 
 even waiting for the elevator. 
 
 August. 
 
 I have found anothei place to stop. I have rented a 
 room for one dollar a week, and I have moved. I spoke 
 to that Irishman, Began or Dugan is his name, who sells 
 newspapers at the Ferry Depot, whom I once spoke to 
 about going into the newspaper-selling business. I asked 
 him if he did not know of a room for rent. 
 
 "I do," he said. "The very place." 
 
 I told him I should have to be satisfied with almost 
 anything as long as it was clean. 
 
 "I know just what you want," he professed. 
 
 "But," I conditioned, "if possible not on a narrow back- 
 street or alley." 
 
 "Just the thing, the very same!" Missis, she is wife to 
 the cousin of the grocery man in the middle of the block 
 beyond, by the mother's side, O'Brien was her name; 
 the mother : she lived till last Christmas before she died 
 on Tehama street. 
 
 "But is not that a narrow street?" 
 
 "It is not on the street at all. It is in the rear. You 
 go in through the cellar. No back alley ! A nice, small, 
 little, rear yard with a high board-fence around so no- 
 body can look in on you! You just give her my name! 
 Or if you will wait half an hour, I will gc with you. 
 But you just give her my name and you will see what she 
 will do for you." 
 
 143 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 He proceeded to give me the number which I took, 
 thanking him, and walked away in another direction up 
 to near the top of Russian hill where the other day 
 I had noticed a sign of rooms for rent in a house, the 
 appearance and whole situation of which had seemed to 
 me very suitable. 
 
 Having come to the place, I found to my disappoint- 
 ment that the room in question was in a rear house and 
 of rather poor access. Yet the view at once decided me 
 to take it. The lot falls steeply from the front to the 
 rear. A rude sort of flower-garden extends on the east 
 side of the front house from the street to the rear line. 
 Through this garden a narrow walk, illy paved with 
 bricks and at the most unexpected places interrupted by 
 steps of loose bricks, leads down to the rear house and 
 the upper floor is reached by a flight of outside steps from 
 the brick-walk to the second story veranda. It is an 
 ok], frame house with a wide two-story veranda round 
 the front and the one side of the house. There is a sep- 
 arate glass door from the veranda into the room I rented. 
 From my window I have the full view over the neighbor- 
 ing houses onto the lower parts of the town, the fringe 
 of shipping, the bay and the opposite ranges of hills, all 
 unobstructed. 
 
 I went at once and brought my things away from the 
 lodging house at the Ferry Depot although I had yet an- 
 other night's lodging to my credit there. My new land- 
 lady had wanted to wait and see her husband, who was 
 out working, before she let me have the roc»m. But I 
 had over-ruled her hesitation. And when I came with my 
 things and she saw my musical instruments, she seemed 
 perfectly satisfied and much pleased. Her husband was 
 musical, she said. 
 
 She seems to be a very good kind of person, some- 
 what innocent, rather precise and a little nervous. She 
 told me she was her husband's second wife, his first wife 
 
 144 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 by whom he had two grown-up children, a son and a 
 (laughter, having died about two years before. But they 
 had behaved very unfriendly to her and never came to 
 sec her; though they were not bad, not wild nor any 
 thing like that. The aaughter v/as staying with friends 
 and did dressmaking for a living; the young man was 
 driving an express-wagon. Somehow it pleased me to 
 have her tell me all this ; and it interested me too. The 
 husband's name she said was Carpenter, and he w^as a 
 carpenter. 
 
 That seems to be a standing joke with them. When 
 her husband afterw^ards came home and she brought 
 him into my room for my introduction, he repeated it, 
 saying: "Yes, I am Mr. Carpenter. My name is Car- 
 penter and I am a carpenter." He has a hccirty way of 
 speaking and appears easy going and careless. Never- 
 theless I thought I saw him eyeing my small box rather 
 doubtfully and heard him ask his wife, as they left the 
 room, if I had paid the rent, and look relieved when she 
 said I had. So perhaps-' his outward manner is no more 
 than just an outward manner. 
 
 Shortly after they were gone Mrs. Carpenter came 
 back with a lamp for me ready lighted, which almost 
 blew out before I had opened the door at her knocking. 
 I had a candle burning I had bought the first evening 
 some candles, when I was writing all night She said 
 something about my not needing to furnish my own light. 
 I told her I often had writing to do, calculating, figuring 
 and the like far into the night and could not expect her 
 to furnish me the light for that. She answered quite 
 kindly, well, no ! of course she did not expect me to burn 
 the lamp all night, but if I burnt candles, I might find 
 it cheaper to pay her a little extra for light; I should 
 have to pay for the candles anyhow. I told her she was 
 right and when I had found out how many candles I 
 
 145 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 used after, say, ten o clock, we could come to an under- 
 standing. 
 
 She next started to talk about the neighbors in a 
 v/omanly gossipy way, ^.nd yet not altogether gossipy nor 
 at all unkindly, but as if she felt it her duty to make 
 me acquainted with particularities of our neighbors, since 
 they were the neighbors that we had to try to be on good 
 footing with. 
 
 When she was gone and I had just got through putting 
 my few things to rights, Mr. Carpenter knocked and came 
 in, ostensibly to ask if I wanted anything he could do 
 for iny comfort, but in reality to hear me play the banjo. 
 T had to play and play, to play more and yet more, he 
 tapping time with his feet and telling me in every pause 
 how much he liked music and how sorry he was he could 
 not play any instrument. He also offered to have my 
 guitar repaired by a friend of his who could do such 
 things and would do it free of charge. And he has taken 
 the instrument with him. He certainly is fond of music. 
 And his ear is good. He might have kept me playing 
 till now, had not bis wife interrupted us, knocking at the 
 door and opening it, asking was he going to tire me out 
 at once for good and all. 
 
 I think I have fallen into very good hands. The woman 
 is certainly cleanly and if nervous, sensible and kind- 
 hearted. And as for Mr. Carpenter, I am very glad he 
 likes music. I shall be able to play without giving offence. 
 Moreover, it will prevent conversation until I have got 
 to be an old story with them, after which they will not 
 ask any questions any more. Mrs. Carpenter, coming in 
 to ask if I was not being tired out, did not know how 
 eager I was to play till her husband would go away, so 
 as to keep him from coming to the asking cf the very 
 natural question, who and what I was, and where I came 
 from. I am just the least bit suspicious that he is a trifle 
 inquisitive in a good-natured way. She had before asked 
 
 146 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 me my occupation, and I had told her I was a gardener. 
 I had spoken almost before thinking. But my speaking 
 has settled the business. I am a gardener. And for my 
 name I have taken my mother's. 
 
 A buoyant feeling is in me. I like my dwelling and 
 the people. But it is not that. I am glad I moved. It 
 seems to put the prison farther away. But it is not that. 
 I am not thinking of the prison. My heart is light. Some- 
 thing possesses me so that I should like to dance and 
 sing. 
 
 August. 
 
 I have a good deal to write down here. And it comes 
 to me naturally to do it ! Friday was a good day. That 
 joyousness of spirits in me from the moment I awoke, I 
 felt it as if it had stayed with me in my sleep, I went out 
 early and took a bite for breakfast in the little coffee 
 saloon round the corner of the second street from here. 
 From there I walked along that street farther west, and 
 at the first house I came to where somebody was working 
 in the front garden-yard, I asked for work. A dull-look- 
 ing man in dressing gown and slippers, and smoking a 
 short pipe, was tying up some creepers round the front 
 bay window of a two-story house. I opened the gate of 
 the front picket fence and stepped up to the man. 
 
 "No tramps here!" he said. 
 
 "No?" I asked. "Amply provided?" 
 
 He looked at me very stupidly and cried, "What do you 
 mean? What do you want?" 
 
 "I want work," I said. "Give me a quarter and I will 
 trim up this place for you. That is, if you have any tools. 
 I am a gardener, but I have not got even a knife." 
 
 He stood in a sort of helpless way, while I took the 
 twine, with which he was tying the creeper, out of his 
 hands and proceeded with the fastening of the plant that 
 had come loose. 
 
 147 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 "Now, where are the tools?" I demanded. "In the 
 back yard?" 
 
 "In the shed," he answered. "I will get them for you." 
 
 It rather looked as though he was afraid to let me go 
 into the back yard and shed, lest 1 might steal some- 
 thing or find out the lay of things there, to come back 
 another time for that purpose. But that did not worry 
 me. He brought me some tools. I worked away and in 
 little more than half an hour had everything trimmed up, 
 looking well, the man standing by watching me the whole 
 time, never speaking a word. 
 
 When he paid me he said : "This is the first time I have 
 ever seen a Greaser work like a white man." 
 
 I retorted, "I would back the worst Greaser against you 
 for work," on which he cried as before: "What do you 
 mean?" 
 
 "I mean," I said, "that I will keep this place in trim for 
 you like this, come, if you want me to, say, once every 
 other week, and charge you fifty cents every time. But 
 you will have to find me the tools. And for extra work 
 you will have to pay extra." 
 
 "Well, go ahead," he mumbled, in his kind of helpless 
 way, and I said good-morning and came away, 
 
 A few blocks farther, where the lines of houses were 
 already getting thinner, I accosted an old woman who 
 was snipping awav at a rose bush in front of a plain, shin- 
 gled cottage. She wore a Quaker bonnet ai.-d gauntlet 
 gloves and blue spectacles, and was using common, heavy 
 scissors, with which she evidently found it hard work 
 trimming the bush. 
 
 "Would you give a fellow a job, madam?" I asked very 
 politely. "I am a gardener and I want work badly. I 
 will trim up this place for twenty-five cents." 
 
 "You are a Dago," she told me. 
 
 "No, madam," 1 said, "I am a Greaser." 
 
 148 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 "Well," she replied, after considering a bit, ''are they 
 not the same?" 
 
 "Oh, no, madam," I lejoined, as though I was making 
 a communication of some importance. "A Dago origin- 
 ally meant a Spaniard, but the meaning of the name has 
 gradually been expanded to comprise all peoples of the 
 South of Europe, except, perhaps, the Turks. A Greaser 
 is a native of the Pacific American coast, of Indian 
 descent." 
 
 "Well," she answered, considering again a bit as before, 
 as if not sure that I was not quizzing her, "yon don't look 
 like an Indian, you look like Italian mixed." 
 
 "You have a discerning eye, madam," I exclaimed. 
 "My father was of Italian and German parentage. My 
 mother was a Mexican, and I was born here on the 
 coast. So, you see, I am a Californian n.ixture. In 
 mind and spirit I have always considered myself more 
 German than anydiing else. Yet, I dare say, I am really 
 most part Mexican-Indian. You are Anglo-Saxon, are 
 you not?" 
 
 "Indeed, I am, and from the North. How much did 
 you say you wanted for fixing the yard?" 
 
 "A quarter of a dollar." 
 
 "Well, times are hard, but I will give you the job." 
 
 She had no spade nor hoe, only a bricklayer's trowel 
 she was accustomed to use for digging up the ground. 
 Nor had she any other tools besides the scissors in her 
 hand, except a pretty handy knife and a rake with half 
 the tines broken out. So I could not work very fast nor 
 do my work half ways neatly. Yet working with a will I 
 was through in less than an hour, had watered everything 
 vv^ell from an old watering pot, drawing the water from a 
 faucet on the east side of the cottage, where the garden, 
 or front yard was divided off by a lattice fence from the 
 rear, which was planked with rough boards and fenced 
 around with a board fence all the way back. 
 
 149 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 The old lady bad gene into the house. I called her. 
 She came out of the rear kitchen door up to the side gate 
 in the lattice fence, and expressed herself as being satis- 
 fied so far, but wanted to know why I did not go on and 
 fix the balance of the yard. 
 
 "What yard ?" 1 inquired. 
 
 ''Why, this yard! all yard!" she cried. "Did you not 
 say you would fix the yard for a quarter of a dollar, and 
 don't you expect to get your money ? Is not this here back 
 place as much yard as that little front patch ? I declare ! 
 Do you suppose I would pay twenty-five cents for just 
 watering that front garden? Why, you have been not 
 more than twenty mniutes at it. Why, at a quarter of a 
 dollar, that would be seventy-five cents an hour, seven 
 dollars and a half for a day's work of ten hours. You 
 would Hke that, I guess" 
 
 It vexed me a little to be tricked this way, but least 
 said, soonest mended. I asked for a broom and with that 
 and the trowel went to work cleaning up the back yard, 
 which certainly needed it very much. When I had every- 
 thing in broom-clean and orderly condition I called the old 
 lady again from out the kitchen where she was frying 
 out fat. 
 
 She pretended to be mightily indignant yet. 
 
 "I have a great mind not to pay you at all," she 
 grunted, "for trying to cheat." Nor would she till I had 
 piled up some wood in the shed and after that nailed up 
 some shelves in the rough laundry under the house and 
 after that changed some pulleys for the clothes lines from 
 one fence post to another. And then I thought she only 
 made ready to pay me, because she was expecting some 
 one to come whom she did not want to hear of my smart 
 treatment by her. It was getting on towards noon. She 
 had the table set for luncheon. Some of her folks would 
 be home soon. At least she appeared all at once very 
 eager for me to be gone. She went through a pocket in 
 
 150 
 
CHRONICLES OP MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 her dress and produced fifteen cents, which she offered 
 me, saying it was all the money she had. 
 
 When I claimed that that was not the agreement, she 
 cried : 'The agreement ! The agreement ! You broke the 
 agreement right ofiF.'" 
 
 It was such a small matter and I felt utterly ashamed 
 of all this disputing and haggling, and with a woman, too, 
 but I could not let the woman's falsehood pass uncontra- 
 dicted. "I did not," I called back, "and you know it. 
 But I will not waste another word on that matter. I have 
 now done much more than you could possibly have misun- 
 derstood me to agree to do when we made the bargain, 
 and now I want my money. Ten cents more !" 
 
 It became more and more evident that she wanted me 
 to be gone. After another hurried going through her 
 pocket and searching a satchel lying on a shelf over the 
 kitchen sink, she handed me a nickel, protesting it was 
 all the money she had in the house. But in the very act 
 she dropped another nickel out of her hand on the floor 
 right before my feet. I could not help smiling. "Take 
 the money," she called out, "and don't you ever show your 
 grinning face round here again." 
 
 I had begun to feel hungry and was looking for a place 
 to buy something to eat, when I came to a short street 
 running through the middle of the block, all built up with 
 cottages, lately finished I could see, each one with a neat 
 little front yard. I walked down this street. The cottages 
 were all alike, except one in the center of the row, which 
 had a high basement or cellar and was a little wider than 
 the rest and more plain. In the front of it a lady was 
 setting out some flower plants in the newly prepared 
 ground. 
 
 After passing the place, I turned back and spoke to the 
 lady. 
 
 "If you wish for any help, madam," I said, tipping my 
 hat, "I am a gardener and in want of a job; and I should 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 work for very small wages." I saw she was bright and 
 fair, with a beautiful complexion ; rather young, not more 
 than twenty-two or twenty-three years old certainly, of 
 good figure, but looking as though she might grow stout 
 in coming years. She made a face half way between a 
 smile and a pout as she answered : 
 
 "If I wish for any help? Well, I should think I rather 
 wish I had some help. 1 did not bargain for this job at all. 
 J told my husband I would fix this garden if he would get 
 everything ready. But, law me ! I never felt so in all my 
 life. Why, my back is that sore and my face is just burn- 
 ing." And she lifted a large straw hat from her head to 
 show me a face I had already noticed to be very pleasant 
 and fair to look at, but nowise burning. 
 
 ''But I don't know," she continued, "if I can set you to 
 work before my husband comes home. And he will not 
 be home till after five o'clock this evening. How much 
 would you charge to fix this ?" 
 
 •'It will take me till dark, I judge," I said. "Perhaps 
 1 should not get through altogether and have to finish it 
 to-morrow morning. But I would do it all for a dollar, if 
 that is not too much for you." 
 
 "Oh," she cried, "if it is not to be more than a dollar, 
 I will risk it without waiting for my husband. You go 
 right to work. Come in," opening the gate for me, "come 
 ill. And, oh, yes, try to get through before five o'clock. 
 It needs not to be done so extra fine, you know- And then, 
 vou know, I shall pretend I did it. Won't that be fun ! 
 He said, you know, I never could do it. And he never 
 will know the difference in all his life." 
 
 I asked her how she wanted the flowers placed. 
 
 "Oh, any way," she exclaimed. "Just make it look as 
 neat as you can and so that you get through by five to- 
 night." And she went away by a passage, a driveway it 
 was, on the side of the cottage to the rear, and left mc 
 alone to do the best I could with the flowers in the pots 
 
 ic;2 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 and the gardening tools and the two plots of ground, one 
 each side of the central walk. I had no time to lose, yet 
 after the fashion of my nature, I first had to consider 
 how to proceed. But it was only a simple proposition. I 
 concluded to group the principal flowers on both sides of 
 the front steps, stringing them out around to the front 
 line, leaving the test to be sown in grass, so as to obtain 
 on each side of the central walk a small lawn with a 
 background of flowers. 
 
 I had made quite a little headway when the lady ap- 
 peared at the front door and called to me, "Had you not 
 better have some lunch first? Oh, my I Why, my life! 
 You are doing fine. We don't eat anything but fish to- 
 day, but I have some cold, boiled ham that is awfully 
 nice. And I can boil you an tgg. I am sure you have not 
 had your lunch yet. I had mine some time ago." 
 
 I told him she was very kind and thoughtful ; if she 
 could give me a bite of something to eat, it would make 
 me work better, as I had had but a slim breakfast; only 
 she must not go to any trouble about it ; a piece of bread 
 would do me. But that would not do her. She asked me 
 to come in, and when I pointed to my shoes all moist and 
 dirty with loam, she said that it did not matter, but yet 
 gave in that I should go round by the side driveway to the 
 rear kitchen door, where we had another little dispute 
 about my coming into the kitchen. She was so insisting. 
 yet so pleasant, speaking with such a sweet-sounding 
 voice, pretending to be provoked at my refusal to enter, 
 yet so smiling, I could not help smiling back at her and 
 speaking to her somewhat in her own manner, while I 
 persisted in remaining standing outside the kitchen door 
 and taking out of her hand a big ham sandwich and a hard 
 boiled egg and a cup of tea, for which she had boiled the 
 water on a little gas stove, and then sitting down on the 
 kitchen doorstep to eat and drink. The kitchen door was 
 open, but there was a wire screen door to it, kept closed 
 
 ^S2> 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 by a spring. She was inside talking to me, standing with 
 her cheek almost touching the wire screen. 
 
 "I think you are just too awful for anythhig," she was 
 
 saying. 
 
 "I am too awfully dirty for your clean kitchen, that I 
 
 know," I spoke back. 
 
 "The idea of your sitting out there and eating! My 
 life ! And there is that skinny old woman looking at you." 
 
 "That is the reason I wanted to sit here and eat, so that 
 she saw me. It might give her an appetite. And she can- 
 not see you." 
 
 "I don't care if she sees more or not," she pouted. At 
 the same time, however, she stepped back from the screen 
 door and up to her gas stove to turn off the gas she had 
 left burning all this time. 
 
 I had called her Mrs. De Lang, and she asked how I 
 came to know her name. Over the gate of the driveway 
 was a long signboard with the name: Thomas E. De 
 Lang, Builder and Contractor. 
 
 "So you think from my appearance," I said, "that I 
 cannot read." 
 
 "I think you are awfully smart," came her words from 
 the other side of tlie kitchen. "You don't talk like a work- 
 man at all." 
 
 "I shall have to be smart to get through with my job 
 to-day," I rejoined as I stood up and knocked at the side 
 of the screen door, so that the old lady next door but one, 
 who was watching us from her window, could see it and 
 see me hand back my plate and cup to Mrs. De Lang and 
 most profoundly bow to her, at which she broke into a 
 smile and laughed. 
 
 Such a delicious laugh! It made my ears tingle for 
 some time after I had gone back to work. 
 
 Mrs. De Lang did not show herself again till nearly 
 four o'clock, when she came out at the front door, dressed 
 to go out. She expressed herself highly pleased with 
 
 154 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 all i had done, found it all too pretty for anything, said 
 she had never seen anything like it in all her Hfe, and told 
 me she had to go out, but would be back before five 
 o'clock. She looked almost too charming for imy man to 
 think much of anything but that, still I could not help 
 feeling in a way displeased with her for going away so 
 late, when, according to my notions, she ought to be get- 
 ting dinner ready or supper and preparing for her hus- 
 band's coming home. And I half wondered where she 
 could be going so late, as I looked after her briskly walk- 
 ing down the quiet street, the black ostrich plumes on her 
 large hat nodding at every step. 
 
 I had from the first doubted my ability to quite finish 
 my job that day, and soon clearly saw that I could 
 not do it unless I worked till after six o'clock. I now 
 made up my mind to go away earlier and come in the 
 morning to do what remained to be done, so as not to be 
 caught this evening by ]Mr. De Lang, which might be 
 awkward, besides spoiling Mrs. De Lang's intended sur- 
 prise, who, I felt almost certain, would not be back before 
 five o'clock, or at five, or even later. I did not consider 
 if it might not be unsafe to go away. It came to me later 
 on, but I did not think of it at that time. I was in the 
 very act of collecting the tools to put them in their closet 
 under the front steps, when I saw a horse and buggy 
 coming along the street, and immediately concluded that 
 the man sitting in the buggy, leisurely driving the bay 
 mare, was Mr. De Lang. 
 
 As he turned on to the sidewalk up to the gate of the 
 driveway, I being on that side, jumped over the low fence 
 and opened the gate for him and shut it after him again. 
 And I did the same with the second inner gate. He did 
 not speak, only glanced at me carelessly. But he Uked my 
 attentiveness,'l could see. He did but just drive through 
 the inner gate. When he was inside and right opposite 
 
 155 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 me, he pulled up his horse and asked, speaking quite 
 slowly: ''Whom are you working for here?" 
 
 ''Mrs. De Lang," I replied, and, after a short pause of 
 politeness, went on: 
 
 "Mrs. De Lang went out half an hour ago. She said 
 she would be back at five o'clock. She did not expect you 
 home so early. That is, I suppose you are Mr. De Lang." 
 
 "Did she tell you where she put the key? Never mind. 
 I can manage to get in anyhow. Can you put up the horse 
 for me in the stable back there? Never mind. I think 
 I won't unharness her. I shall have to go down town to 
 get something to cat. Yes !" 
 
 All this he brought forth in a slow, expressionless way, 
 taking apparently his wife's absence, the lock-up of his 
 house, the prospect of no home dinner as coolly as my 
 presence. I felt i iclined to be sorry for him. I repeated 
 thjit Mrs. De Lang had certainly not expected him so 
 soon, that she probably had not minded how late it was, 
 when she went away, that I ought to have reminded her 
 of it. And I told him of the surprise she had intended 
 for him, all of which explanations he took kindly, which 
 again readily made me take a liking to him. 
 
 "Never mind," he said, getting out of his buggy, "it is 
 fish day, anyhow." 
 
 Then, after a minute, during which we stood gazing at 
 each other in a most imbecile way, he commented, always , 
 speaking as if deliberating, "She could never have made 
 me believe that she fixed the garden. I told her so. I 
 am glad she employed you to do it. She couM not have 
 done it. She bet me she could." 
 
 He was hunting round under the door mat, under the 
 steps, behind the basement door for the key of the kitchen 
 door, while I w'as stabling the horse. 
 
 "Maybe Mrs. De Lang left the door unlocked," I sug- 
 gested. 
 
 Sure enough, the kitchen door proved to be not locked, 
 
 156 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 with the key sticking inside in the lock, when Mr. De 
 Lang tried it. 
 
 '^ should hardly have given her credit for so much 
 
 sense," he muttered. 
 
 "She thought." I took occasion to say, "that I should 
 not go away till she would be back, or you had come 
 
 home." 
 
 I thought I fully understood his humor when he re- 
 marked in his slow way, "Lucky for you I camic home." 
 
 He now went into the house while I returned to my 
 work. Since the surprise was a lost thing, I might as 
 well work one hour longer and finish the job, which I did 
 without Mr. De Lang making his reappearance. But 
 when I was putting away the tools, I heard him calling, 
 and found him in the basement. He had fed his horse, 
 had cleaned and put up his harness and buggy, and was 
 now washing himself at a washtub in the laundry. 
 
 "My wife had no right to go away and kave you here 
 by yourself," he observed over his towel, as T came near 
 enough to be spoken to, every word seeming a fathom 
 long. "Suppose she should have mislaid something, or 
 lost something, she might think you took it." 
 
 "She could not think that," I protested, but I suppose 
 rather consciously. "She had given me work, she had 
 given me to eat and to drink. She would not think that 
 
 badly of me." 
 
 "Well," he conceded, after a little more toweling, "no, 
 she would not think that, and I don't think any right- 
 minded person would think that of you after knowing 
 you ten minutes, but all the same, if something was miss- 
 ing, nothing on earth would clear you with people in gen- 
 eral, of the suspicion of having taken it. She often loses 
 things. She had no right to leave you here alone, with 
 doors open. Did she pay you ?" 
 
 "No, but that is all right." 
 
 157 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 "I don't see how that is all right. What is your 
 charge ?" 
 
 "One dollar." 
 
 ''How long did yon work?" 
 
 "Half a day ; a little over." 
 
 "Well, I am in the contracting business myself and 
 have to try to get things done as cheap as I can. You 
 would have to do the same. But I never like to have men 
 work below wages. What are gardeners' wages ?" 
 
 I did not want to let him know that I knew nothing 
 about that, so I answered that the bargain had been made 
 for one dollar and no more. Besides, his wife had given 
 me lunch. 
 
 "Well," he drawled, "are you not going to charge extra 
 for that? I don't know what the damage may be, but 
 if you let my wife work off some of her stale bread and 
 pie on you, why you certainly ought to be paid extra for 
 that." 
 
 I gave a half laugh to show that I entered into his 
 humor. He handed me a dollar. I took it, thanking him, 
 and turned to put on my coat, when he asked me my name, 
 and after a few )nore questions as to where I lived, and 
 if I boarded where I roomed, invited me to dine with 
 him at some restaurant down town, where he should have 
 to go anyhow to get something to eat, as his wife would 
 certainly not come home that night, he knew, he said. 
 
 I glanced down at my clothes, but he said to never mind 
 my clothes, because it was one of the good points of our 
 city that everybody could go very much everywhere with- 
 out being dressed up. 
 
 I did not like to refuse. In fact, I felt as if I could not 
 but accept. Indeed, pretty soon after the first surprise in 
 my mood of the day, I was so gladdened by his kindness 
 and felt so thankful that I scarcely found words to speak 
 my proper acceptance. So, washed and cleaned as hur- 
 riedly as possible, I walked away with him. 
 
 158 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 We spoke, each of us, but his deHberation of speech 
 was such it could not be called conversation. As we 
 turned into the next street where the blustering fog- 
 laden wind had full sway, I remarked that the evening 
 was more than usually raw, and it was not till we had 
 come to the end of that block and turned again the corner 
 of the next street that he replied, "Yes, very raw !" 
 
 On this street was a car-line, and we boarde-l a car just 
 stopping at the crossing which brought us to near the place 
 where Mr. De Lang wanted to go. 
 
 It was by this vime night. The wind and fog seemed 
 worse than ever. When Mr. De Lang led me down some 
 stone steps into a restaurant in the basement of a large 
 building, a fair sized place, well lighted, warm, clean and 
 comfortable looking, the change was most agreeable. He 
 seemed to be known there. An impressive v/aiter spoke 
 to him and conducted us to an unoccupied table, which he 
 prepared for us with some show, bringing warm, French 
 bread and sweet butter and other things, and finally the 
 bill of fare, standing then with clasped hands and watch- 
 ing Mr. De Lang's face during his perusal of it with rapt 
 attention as if to read his innermost thoughts and opinions 
 of the dishes, and nervously eager to anticipate his orders, 
 all of which Mr. De Lang disliked very much, I could tell. 
 
 I expected Mr. De Lang to order fish, since he had said 
 something about its being fish day. However, he did 
 not. A very good dinner came, and with it a bottle of 
 claret that I was to help to drink. But as soon as I as- 
 sured Mr. De Lang that I was sworn to total abstinence, 
 he desisted from asking me to drink. A smaller bottle 
 was substituted foi the big one, and Mr. De Lang fin- 
 ished it alone. I noticed its eflfect on him, too, as well as 
 his enjoyment of it. He had something of that reserve, 
 which Ullard maintained, characterizes the true aristo- 
 crat. But a few glasses of wine seem to do away with it, 
 
 159 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 at least to a certain extent. He did not speak quicker, but 
 in a ruder manner. 
 
 Our waiter, hovering constantly about our table, never 
 moved away without excusing himself. The next time 
 he repeated his: * "Excuse me a moment," Mr. De Lang 
 emphatically replied: "With pleasure, with felicity," 
 breaking out into a loud guffaw. The man took it very 
 meekly, even smiled a little, but felt hurt, I could see. 
 And he had waited on us very properly only rather too at- 
 tentively. 
 
 We had by this time come to the end of our dinner and 
 Mr. De Lang was smoking and sipping his coffee. He 
 insisted on my taking a cigar, to smoke at some other 
 time, if I did not want to smoke it now. 
 
 "But I do not smoke at all." 
 
 "Well, take it anyhow ! Give it to a poor man ! Ha ! 
 Ha!" 
 
 So I took it and afterwards gave it to the waiter. 
 
 Mr. De Lang was smoking and sipping his coffee, some- 
 times glancing at the waiter as if half inclined to a further 
 attack on him, who was still hovering about, though at a 
 safer distance, sometimes looking at me till I felt not 
 oversure but what he might turn to whet his humor on me. 
 I tried to think vhat to say to draw his attention and 
 start some conversation, but at last found nothing better 
 than to ask him if he knew of any work for me. 
 
 He cried, "No!" Presently, however, seeing me si- 
 lenced, and the wine he had drunk not having been 
 enough, I fancy, to affect him for any length of time, he 
 seemed to come to and corrected himself, saying, "I don't 
 know but what I do. I am building a private residence 
 for a Mr. Mauresse, an English Jew, where there will be 
 some gardening to be done. It might be something for 
 you. I tell you, you come to my house to-morrow morn- 
 insr at seven o'clock, and I will take vou over to the 
 
 1 60 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 building and introduce you to Mr. Mauresse. He is al- 
 vvays there at that time. It might get you the job." 
 
 He had finished liis coffee, paid the waiter, and we rose, 
 went out into the street and boarded a street car, which 
 he hailed and wh'ch took us to the northern part of the 
 town. Mr. De Lang again paying both our fares. At 
 some point we were transferred to another car line up to a 
 certain crossing, where we separated, never during all 
 this time exchanging a single word, except at parting bid- 
 ding each other good-by and I thanking him for all his 
 kindness and promising to be at his house early in the 
 morning, he holding up his finger and saying, ''Seven." 
 
 At home I found Mr. Carpenter still up and waiting for 
 some music, which I was glad enough to furnish him 
 before we went to bed. 
 
 He knows Mr. De Lang, he says, by reputation as a 
 very good man. 
 
 This morning I took care to be at Mr. De Lang's a 
 little before the aopointed hour. I found Mr. De Lang 
 in his shirt sleeves going to put his mare in harness, which 
 I asked him to let ine do for him, while he finished dress- 
 ing, and it was not long before I was sitting in the bugg}^ 
 by his side, being rapidly driven in the direction of the big 
 park. 
 
 T asked Mr. De Lang if his wife was back when he 
 returned after our dinner. He said no, and she was not 
 home yet ; he supposed she had stayed at her sister's all 
 night ; he would go round by and by and see. 
 
 Before I spoke, I felt as though I must inquire. Now I 
 felt as if I ought not to have done it. There is certainly 
 something about Mr. De Lang that forbids one's taking 
 liberties with him. 
 
 He did not speak again till we had reached Mr. Mau- 
 resse's new residence, a very fine building nearly com- 
 pleted, in a very fine location on the corner of two main 
 streets, and on a lot large enough to leave a broad margin 
 
 i6i 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 on both streets. This margin, I judge, to be designed 
 for the grounds, jr flower garden. I told Mr. De Lang 
 so and he nodded, and before getting out of the buggy 
 proceeded to give me a few points as to my task. 
 
 "This Mr. Mauresse," he said, ''is very rich and about 
 as close as he is rich. You must stick up for your price 
 or he will beat you down to nothing. But outside of that 
 he is all right, and once he has agreed to a price, it is as 
 good as cash paid. He had from some gardener some 
 kind of plan for this place with an estimate of cost. But 
 he does not like the plan, or most likely he does not like 
 the cost. Now, I am going to tell him that you want to 
 give him a bid on his gardening." 
 
 ''But, excuse me, Mr. De Lang," I interrupted him, 
 "if he already has engaged a gardener, I should hate to 
 interfere." 
 
 "Well," he drawled, "how are you going to do? Do 
 you suppose you can make any some sort of living without 
 interfering with somebody? And who said engaged? 
 It is all fair competition. You need not see the other 
 man's plan. Make your own plan! I suppose you can." 
 
 "Oh, yes !" I answered. "I am not so very much of a 
 draughtsman ; in fact, that is my weak point. But I can 
 get up a plan of grounds and a perspective sketch. I have 
 some sketches at my place and some designs by the man 
 I used to work with, who was an excellent landscape gar- 
 dener. But I have no drawing instruments but a couple 
 of pens, no drawing boards, no paper, nothing in truth to 
 work with." 
 
 He did not speak for quite a little while, getting out of 
 the buggy and tying his mare to a hitching post at the 
 curb. It looked indeed as if I had effectually silenced 
 him. But when he had taken a blanket from the buggy 
 and put it on the horse and made everything about the 
 horse and buggy snug, he turned to me and, speaking 
 more slowly than ever, said: 
 
 162 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 "In my house is a room, my office I call it, where I do 
 my figuring and such drawing as it is. You can work 
 there. Everything is there : drawing boards, paper, water- 
 colors, brushes, pens and dividers. You can work there 
 if that is all. You can work there if that is all, he re- 
 peated as I hesitated to speak, because, truly, I did not 
 know what to say. 
 
 As we were thus standing another buggy came driving 
 up with two gentlemen in it, both calling Mr. De Lang by 
 name and bidding him the time of day. He returned the 
 salutation, saying to me : 
 
 'There he is now, with the architect." 
 Waiting quietly till the two had come to us, he ad- 
 dressed the shorter one : 
 
 "Mr. :^Iauresse, this is ^Ir. Eguren, a landscape gar- 
 dener, who would like to give you a bid on the laying out 
 of these grounds on a plan of his own," he explained. 
 
 "A gardener?" cried Mr. Mauresse, '*a bid? Well, 
 perhaps ! But I have a pretty good plan already. I don't 
 know. What is the use of another damned plan. What 
 is it going to cost?" 
 
 I glanced appealingl) at Mr. De Lang, and he came to 
 
 mv assistance. 
 
 '"To make any kind of plan," he said, turning to me, 
 "could you do it for twenty-five dollars?" 
 
 "Yes," I answererl rather quickly, "I think I could do 
 
 it for that." 
 
 "I tell you what." broke in Mr. :Mauresse, "T am a Jew, 
 
 I give you half." 
 
 "Well," returned Mr De Lang sharply, "I am not " 
 
 then he seemed to bethink himself, and, turning again 
 to me, asked: "Could you do it for fifteen dollars, Mr. 
 Eguren? Of course,'' he went on, "Mr. Mauresse would 
 not expect more than a sketch for that amount ; something 
 to convey an idea of what is intended and enough to make 
 
 an estimate on." 
 
 163 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 'Ten dollars cash on delivery," called out Mr. Mau- 
 resse. 
 
 Nobody spoke. Tt was quite laughable. Mr. Mauresse 
 was eying me, looking as eager for an acceptance of his 
 offer as I was eager to accept. But I was at the same 
 time wanting not to act contrary to Mr. De Lang's idea 
 of what I ought to do; and he had such an expression of 
 disgust in his face that I felt sure he wanted me to say 
 something sharp, which came not into my head. The 
 architect stood by looking unfathomably wise. 
 
 At last Mr. De Lang spoke again to me, ignoring Mr. 
 Mauresse. 
 
 "Could you do it to-day?" he queried. ''Could you 
 finish the sketch bv five o'clock, and could you do it for 
 fifteen dollars?" 
 
 ''I tell you what," coaxed Mr. Mauresse, "you do it 
 and bring it to my office this afternoon by three o'clock, no 
 later, and I will pay you ten dollars ! You bring it to my 
 office and get your money. Cash! Three o'clock! No 
 later ! Not a second ! A nice sketch ! Make me a nice 
 sketch! Afterwards you can bid on it. But, mind you, 
 the plan belongs to me." 
 
 Mr. De Lang made another effort. "It would not be 
 fair," he resumed, "to give the ideas of one man to an- 
 other man. It is the idea that is valuable. Here is a 
 fine residence, one of the handsomest dwellings in town on 
 a most prominent corner, passed by everybody going 
 to or coming from the park. It is a fine, large lot. The 
 right idea for the plotti-ig of the grounds will make the 
 whole beautiful. The wrong idea will spoil all. You 
 make your sketch for fifteen dollars and let Mr. Mauresse 
 take it and show it to his v/ife. If they adopt the idea 
 and have it carried out and do not give you the job, then 
 he should pay you another fifteen dollars." 
 
 "No!" shouted Mr. Mauresse, "I will give fifteen dol- 
 lars by three o'clock, and not a cent more. And the plan 
 
 164 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL PLANUS 
 
 belongs to me. That is all. If it was not for that other 
 fellow wanting to cheat me I would not give a nickel for 
 the finest plan I could get, so help me God!" 
 
 I said, "All right, Mr. Mauresse," and the matter was 
 settled. Mr. De Lang went with the architect into the 
 building while Mr. Mauresse walked over the grounds 
 with me, on purpose it would seem to privately assure 
 me that his wife's brother, his father's cousin, and another 
 blood relation, were all going to build next spring fine 
 dwellings on large lots, where there would be fine large 
 grounds, and that he would do his best to get me that 
 work if I did right by him and in the first place made 
 him a nice sketch. After that he passed into the house, 
 and I went over the grounds again, took some notes and 
 was just going to borrow a pocket rule from one of the 
 journeymen carpenters working on the back fence, to 
 make some measurements when Mr. De Lang reappeared, 
 asked what I was about, and told me to get into the buggy 
 and go to his hou'^e with him, where I should find copies 
 of all the drawings for the house, and sizes and surveys 
 of the lot, complete, so that I need not stop to take any 
 measurements. 
 
 As we drove off T asked him to drive round by my room 
 that I might get some sketches of garden plots out of my 
 box. This he did, and then took me to his house, where 
 we found his wife had come home. I did not see them 
 meet, as he brought me directly into his workroom or 
 office, and showed me in a closet some drawing boards 
 with paper ready stretched, and the copies of Mr. Mau- 
 resse's house's plans and the instruments, and saw me 
 fairly started before he left me to go to the rear of the 
 house, where his wife could be heard singing. 
 
 He did not come back to me. I saw him drive away 
 some time afterwards. I surmised he had told his wife 
 not to disturb me, as she did not come near me, though I 
 vva^ somewhat curious to see her. 
 
 165 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 At my work I followed Ullard's advice: Take right 
 hold! Go for the main object! Ideas come as the work 
 goes on. If utterly at loss where to begin, begin some- 
 where, anywhere ! And I got along strangely well. Some 
 drawings in Mr. De Lang's case assisted me wonderfully. 
 For the markings of the flower beds and all the coloring 
 and shading I followed the prettiest ones of Ullard's old 
 sketches and designs all through. 
 
 Some time, near two o'clock, just as I had finished my 
 job, a knock came on my door and Mrs. De Lang asked : 
 "May I come in?" 
 
 She really has a musical voice. 
 
 I jumped off my stool and opened the door, and she 
 stood before me, lovely. 
 
 She held a tray in her hand with some eatables. "I 
 brought you some lunch," said she. ''Mr. De Lang told 
 me I must leave you alone, but, my life! you cannot do 
 without eating. Is that your garden plot? Why, it is 
 beautiful. I never! I did never see anything so awfully 
 pretty in all my life. It is far prettier than the other gar- 
 den plan Mr. De Lang showed me that Mr. Moses paid 
 fifty dollars for, rver so much prettier. It is perfectly 
 lovely." 
 
 "I suppose Mr. De Lang told you to encourage me if 
 you spoke to me at all," I said. 
 
 She laughed and told me to eat my lunch, which I 
 started to do, she remaining in the room, standing with 
 the half-open door between her open hands, her cheek 
 lightly pressed against the edge of it where her hands 
 held it. 
 
 Between eating and drinking, I remarked, "You did not 
 come home last night." 
 
 "Oh!" she replied, "I went to sister's just to see how 
 the baby was, you know. And, don't you know, I was 
 taken that sick, the sickest I ever was in all my life. I 
 had a pain right here. Frank thought I had pneumonia 
 
 1 66 
 
CHRONICLES OF MASUEL ALANUS 
 
 z\v\ sent a messenger boy with a message to my husband. 
 But, you know, the boy clid not find my husband home and 
 left tlie message lext door but one with the skinny old 
 woman, and she never dehvered it till this morning w'hen 
 my husband had gone and I had come home ""O^self . Now, 
 did you hear of anything so mean in all your life ?" 
 
 All this she spoke with a pitiful expression in her dimp- 
 ling countenance that made me smile. 
 
 "But you are feeling all right now?" I inquired. 
 She answered yes, but it was a very doubtful yes. "If 
 you are not," I rejoined, "your illness is very becoming, 
 I must say, whatever it is." 
 
 She laughed again and seemed ready for more conver- 
 sation ; but I had to go. I rolled up my drawing and my 
 sketches, gave her my thanks, walked over to my room, 
 where I left my sketches, and took my drawing to Mr. 
 Mauresse's place of business, which I found according to 
 description, not far from the Stock Exchange. I arrived 
 there five minutes ahead of the appointed time, but Mr. 
 :\Iauresse had been already somewhat nervously awaiting 
 mv coming. 
 
 I handed him the drawing. He unrolled it and I saw 
 immediately that 't pleased him, although he uttered not 
 one word of comment. Several young gentlemen, clerks 
 they seemed to be, that were in the place, collected around 
 him to look at the drawing, some others came out of an 
 inner ofiice, some by the elevator from stories above, and 
 some more from somewhere else, all crowding up to ^Ar. 
 Mauresse most familiarly, talking German, French, Eng- 
 lish. They all looked like relatives with very pronounced 
 TTcbrew features. Some stared at me rather disdainfully 
 and one made a remark in French : I did not altogether 
 understand it, but enough to know that he expressed a 
 doubt that T had made the sketch myself, and that T was a 
 gardener at all. Though why this should be, and what 
 there was in my appearance to raise any such opposition, 
 
 167 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 I do not kiiow. Except that some people ma> belittle the 
 eilorts of others and make a show of discrediting their 
 abilities and mistrusting their character from just pure 
 crossness, and perhaps to give themselves an air of su- 
 periority. 
 
 And now Mr. Mauresse began to ask me a good many 
 (jiiestions about my design, about the plants, the soil and 
 other particulars, may be to get as much information as 
 ])ossible out of m'), or to convince himself that I knew 
 something about gardening, or to give me the chance of 
 proving myself something of a gardener, since he had 
 noticed, I think, that I had caught the sense of the ex- 
 pressed doubt. H'j had not proceeded very far in this 
 examination, however, when he told one of the young 
 people who seemed to be the cashier, to pay me fifteen dol- 
 lars gold coin, for which I had to sign a receipt giving 
 the absolute use of my design to Mr. Mauresse. 
 
 "You see," exclaimed that gentleman, "I pay on the 
 nail. Others would make you wait, run, come a dozen 
 times. With me you never have to wait one second. You 
 get your money right away. Were you ever in Paris ?" 
 
 "In Paris, France? No, sir." 
 
 "Well, I thought ! But you understand French ?" 
 
 "Only just what little I learned in school, that I have 
 not forgotten.'' 
 
 "Well, I thought I had seen something like your design 
 in Paris. Not far from where we lived was a house with 
 grounds ; you never saw it ?" 
 
 "No, sir," I said, and I could not help asking: "Did you 
 live in Paris?" 
 
 "I, that is, my family, lived there three years. I was 
 there half of the lime. My family came back from there 
 only four months ago." 
 
 It v/as rising in me to ask, had he seen, did he know, had 
 be heard of Mahon? But I could not force myself to it 
 at the moment, and the next I was dismissed. 
 
 i68 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 "I make no promises/' proclaimed Mr. Mauresse, ''but 
 vou may hear from me soon." 
 
 ' I walked down to the foot of Market street to look for 
 Mr Dugan at the Ferry Station, and buy some papers 
 from him out of my wealth. He was not there. At 
 lea'^t, I did not see him. Thence I walked all the way 
 back to Mr. De Lang's house, only to find the doors 
 locked, nobody at home, nor the horse m the stable, itie 
 rubber garden hose was lying at the cellar door as if it 
 had hurriedly been thrown down there. I took it up and, 
 after giving the garden a thorough wetting, put it away 
 in its place with a pencil note stuck in its nozzle telling 
 Mr. De Lang that I had got my money from Mr. Mau- 
 
 resse 
 
 It was by this time quite late and I was rather hungry. 
 I thought I would go to the same restaurant where I had 
 been the evening before with Mr. De Lang, and that I 
 would Pgain have z. fine dinner there, I felt ^o rich. 1 
 even had a lurking idea I might meet Mr. and Mrs. De 
 Lang there and would then invite them to have dinner 
 with me. But I did nothing of this. I walked through 
 the streets down hill till I came to an Italia- restaurant 
 that took my fancy, where I went in, and where they 
 aave me a good dinner, plain and clean, for twenty cents 
 tncluding a tumbler of claret, for which they substituted 
 an extra dish of salad when I told them I drank no wme. 
 Coming home to my room from there, I found Mr. 
 Carpenter awaiting me, not to have me play for him, but 
 to propose and urge my acceptance of a programme for 
 to-morrow. He and his wife were going across the bay 
 to visit some friends living somewhere in the hills beyond 
 Fruitvale, back of Oakland, and he invited me to come 
 with them, bring my banjo, my mandolin and my guitar 
 which he had brought home ready mended by his friend 
 as he had promised, and to spend the day with them. A 
 
 169 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 birthday party it w as to be, and my playing would ever so 
 much help to make the party a success, he assured me. 
 
 I found it very hard to get clear of accept-ng the invi- 
 tation, especially since I felt myself under obligation to 
 him for the repairing, free of charge, of my guitar. And 
 I knew he was sincere, too, in professing to wish me to 
 come. But I am as yet too near the jail. 
 
 He was extremely persistent, and for a time would not 
 take no for an answer. I shall have to leave the house 
 very early to-morrow morning, or I may be subject to 
 another attack by him. , 
 
 I must say, though, there was something agreeable in 
 being thus pressed to make one of the party. Certainly I 
 must like it, because it shows that I am regarded as an 
 equal. And even if the object was not just my personal 
 company, comfort, pleasure, but rather the music I was 
 to furnish, it still was kindly meant, and, yes ! for my 
 pleasure and company as well as theirs, being part of the 
 general amusement the general entertainment. I under- 
 stand that very well. And I do no less hate the refusing 
 of such a request. I never like to deny anybody any- 
 thing of that kind I can grant, which I know to be truly 
 desired and wished for. Not that I wanted to go. I 
 did not want to go. I cannot go. I first must be more 
 humanized. But I certainly liked being importuned to 
 go. And it all joins on to the flow of spirits that is in 
 me since a few mornings. I remember Ullard saying 
 once: "Sometimes something sets in like a current in our 
 mind or soul and ^hen everything seems to feed it." 
 
 It is so with me now. A current has set in in my 
 thoughts and feelings, a hopefulness, a certainty of hap- 
 piness to come and every experience helps to swell it and 
 boom it along, even to my succeeding so well in making 
 a little water-color sketch and receiving v.diat must appear 
 to me an exorbitant price for it, and my landlord wanting 
 me to go with him to a birthday part3\ 
 
 I/O 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Is it not strange^ Only a few days have gone by and 
 it is as if I had entered on a new Ufe. And have I not? 
 I have not wanted to think about it, but I have known the 
 reason of it all, the true reason of my exuberant spirits 
 ri-ht along. It is because of what that young fellow of a 
 clerk of the Tern Oldock Company told me of Mahon s 
 no longer living in Europe, but in Boston with Mr. Tern 
 Oldock, from where they may come here any time 
 
 Of course, I know there may be a hundred and one 
 reasons why Mahon should be paying his father and this 
 country only a flying visit and go back to Europe without 
 taking a run out to the Pacific coast, but however much 
 afraid of being misled by my wishes I may mistrust my 
 iudgment I cannot make it appear to me otherwise than 
 moft reasonable that he will take this run out here now. 
 He never having been back here, his father not having 
 been here for a long time, their interests here being so 
 lar-e IMahon having left Europe and come to this coun- 
 try" it all points one way: Mahon has gone to Boston to 
 come on here with his father. Who knows but what 
 they are on their way now. Indeed, the way that young 
 clerk spoke, I take it as a fact that Mahon has given up 
 living in foreign parts altogether and come to this coun- 
 try to live, and that it is only a question of time before 
 
 he appears here. vi ^ . 
 
 Why not go to Boston? I feel so rich to-day with my 
 fifteen dollars in my inside pocket, as if I could make that 
 much every day now. How far should I get with what 1 
 have^ Or whv not write? But I could not write. And 
 I could not meet them that way. I might miss them, too. 
 I know just what Mr. Tem Oldock would say if he saw 
 me He would call out, ''Halloh ! Manuel !" And he would 
 hold out his hand to me and point to the mark of my 
 teeth. I don't know what Mahon would say and do. 
 
 The night is far advanced and very dark. From my 
 window I see few lights in the fog. But my room looks 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 pleasant in the lamplight. It is cleanly kept, if poor and 
 scant of furniture: the oilcloth on the floor patched in 
 many places ; in one corner a washed-out, striped, muslin 
 curtain like a long, wide apron hung round a large, quar- 
 ter-round shelf with screwed-in hooks to serve for a 
 clothes closet or wardrobe; and lace curtains, rather full 
 of holes, like shorter aprons, over the glass in the door and 
 window sash; in the other corner of the room the bed 
 leaning from the wall like in a stress of bad weather; 
 across the third corner the combination bureau and wash- 
 stand, the drawers of which at one time stick in a vicious 
 way not to be overcome by force or strategy, and the next 
 come tumbling out all three of them if one is but slightly 
 touched ; a nervous table that moved uneasily as one 
 walks the floor, and two chairs of which one tall and ele- 
 gant in a faded way, looks down most patronizingly on the 
 other, meek and weak little thing with a lame back in the 
 fourth corner behind the door. 
 
 August. 
 
 Mr. Carpenter did make another attempt this morning 
 to persuade me into joining him and his wife in their 
 expedition to Oakland. However, as they had to start 
 early and had been rather late in getting up, he had to cut 
 his endeavors short. 
 
 I left the house :is soon as they were out of sight and 
 first went to Mr. De Lang's place, where everything gave 
 evidence that nobody was home, as on the evening before, 
 nor in all probabili!-y would be home all this day. At the 
 little restaurant round the corner of my street, where I 
 now every morning eat my bowl of oatmeal, I came in a 
 daily paper across an item stating that there had been 
 during the last few days some good fishing off the wharves 
 and it gave me the idea to go down to the wharves to 
 see what was going on there, and perhaps to do a little 
 fishing myself. I bought a large loaf of French bread for 
 a nickel, and for another nickel some olives and dates to 
 
 172 
 
CHROXICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 have for lunch, and started for the nearest \\harf. But 
 I had not gone fa- before I found the weather so dis- 
 agreeable that I turned back and took my lunch home, to 
 my room. 
 
 The wind jars the old house. I feel its chill even m- 
 side. Dust and fog and smoke sweep by in wild sheets, 
 blurring the aspect of even the nearer houses, f. rift some- 
 times disclosing a portion of the lower town-parts in a 
 white dead glare of sunshine, and a lead-colored streak 
 of bay with the hills of the opposite shore in their bare- 
 ness, ashy-drab, half veiled to the base and rising into 
 fogg>' nothingness. 
 
 A typical San Francisco summer day ! 
 It brings back to me that day, the last day on the old 
 wharf, only that day was worse. A vision of the past 
 has come over me. 
 
 We had had a couple of calm, hot days, and as is always 
 then the case, when the sea trades did set in again they 
 came with double force. The morning was fine but, after- 
 wards all was bluster and dampness. In those days, too, 
 there was more flv^ing sand and dust and dirt from un- 
 paved streets and empty lots. 
 
 It was after dinner. I had been down the boat steps 
 to pick up the stump of a large, broken oar that had 
 drifted against them from somewhere. I remember no- 
 ticing as perhaps many times before, how funny it looked ; 
 the fog driving low over the water, not at all as if the 
 fog was moving, but as if the water was rushing back- 
 ward under it. They were both going the same way, the 
 tide was coming in fast, but the fog was going much the 
 
 faster. 
 
 I had dragged the oar stump up the steps to the yard 
 by the shed to saw it up for firewood, when all at once 
 there stood Jim, the bricklayer, before me. 
 
 I knew him right away. It was no different than if I 
 had seen him the week before. I was glad to see him. 
 
 173 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 He had always been good to us children. And with me, 
 I have a recollection, he had been even more easy and 
 friendly than with all the rest. I was very glad to see 
 him ; it made me feel quite warm. I showed him my boots 
 that were new yet, and he showed me his trousers and 
 said they were new. And as he did so, it came to my 
 mind that he had always been a little touched on trousers 
 and had liked us children to admire them wdien he had 
 gotten himself a new pair. So I said they looked fine, 
 which they did. 
 
 Then he talked about the other children, asking me if I 
 still knew their names, which I found I did. And other 
 things he asked me : What I remembered of the dark 
 woman, his wife, and the times I lived with her and him, 
 and about Antonio, the vegetable man, whom I had not 
 had a single thought of for a very long time. 
 
 As we children, all of us had been accustomed to call 
 him father, I had done that now, when he said somewhat 
 short: *'I am not your father." 
 
 I knew that very well. I had always known that he 
 was not my real father, only he spoke in such a curious 
 way, it made me ask. "Well, who is then?" 
 
 "Well," he replied, ''that w^e shall have time to find out." 
 
 And he proceeded to tell me, how his wife, the Dark 
 Woman, one day had brought me home from her dying 
 sister Adelita. But I was not her child. I had been left 
 with her by a man with a red beard and a scar on the 
 cheek. But I was not his child. He had only found me 
 among some native Calif ornians, down the coast. But I 
 did not belong to them, I had only been cast away in a 
 shipwreck near tlunr ranchery with my mother. And 
 she was dead. 
 
 As he spoke there had come to me dim recollections of 
 a woman with beautiful, blind eyes, of a man with big, 
 bushy, red whiskeis, and an ugly cut eyebrow from a 
 horse's kick. I knew it was from a horse'r kick. And 
 
 174 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 other recollections were there, still dimmer of dark- 
 skinned men and women and children, whom I had al- 
 ways known that T had been amongst, as I had always 
 known that my mother was dead. 
 
 And then Jim was gone and nothing remained of all 
 thought of him and his words but some notion of the 
 queerness and strangeness of things. 
 
 Tt was evening. It was growing dark fast with the 
 thickness of the fog, but it would be lighter after the 
 moon had risen. I was at the foot of our wharf. I 
 don't know what had brought me there, what I was there 
 for, but I believe 1 was on the watch for the man, my 
 friend. I was never allowed inside the shanty by my two 
 masters, except for some housework, and of late I had 
 often felt lonesonLe evenings and restless with wanting 
 my friend, always longing for him to come. I seem to 
 remember that I felt as though I had something special 
 to tell him this night. 
 
 Suddenly his figure loomed up through the fog close 
 1)y. 1 ran to him. He caught my outstretched hands 
 in his. And the moment he touched me. it was not he. 
 It was another man, a strange man, somebody I did not 
 know at all. 
 
 "Manuel ?" he cLiUed. 
 I told him "Yes!" 
 "By God, this is lucky." 
 
 I remember this, the way he uttered it, the voice, my 
 own wondering, wiiat was lucky and why. But now all 
 grows confused. 
 
 I always have had the impression that I understood I 
 was to go with this strange man to see my friend, who 
 had sent him to fetch me, he himself being laid up, hav- 
 ing broken his leg and wanting to see me very much. I 
 judge I must have been told this then or how could I 
 have the impression ? But I do not remember it. 
 
 What I remember is being drawn along by the strange 
 
 T75 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 man in the darkness ; the wind on my face and the fog 
 with the taste of dust in it ; the sound of the surf of the 
 bay in my ears, strangely loud and near, and my thinking 
 that it must be getting on to low water now, the surf 
 always sounding louder then ; the ground under foot 
 rough with rocks of some filling-in, gradually getting more 
 even and smooth with crushed stone and gravel, where 
 to my knowing lately a new street had been graded and 
 macadamized and the blocks of ground to each side di- 
 vided off in builchng lots, all fenced in, but with no 
 houses built as yet ; in the thick fog a few dim, hazy 
 lights : and all this vime the strange man never loosening 
 his hold on my wrist, dragging me along, urging me on to 
 hurry, till we come to a horse and buggy, where we stop. 
 
 The strange man has a flask he has taken out of the 
 buggy. He wantb me to drink out of it. He has un- 
 corked it with his teeth and holds it to my lips. I don't 
 want to drink and draw back and commence to struggle 
 to get my wrist out of his grasp, when immediately I am 
 struck down on my back, he kneeling on my arms, sitting 
 on me. His hand is gripping my throat, the nails cutting 
 the skin, the flask is pushed into my mouth, the drink 
 pouring down, burning a little, tasting nasty, and burning 
 more, seeming to burn still more with the weight of him 
 on me keeping me down, his finger closing sometimes on 
 my throat as if to ;>trangle me. 
 
 At last he is ofl^ me. T am on my feet to run and 
 fall ; up again and down again on my knees. I hear him 
 laugh. I am up again, but I cannot keep on my feet. A 
 horrible dizziness is on me. The street rises to my head. 
 The ground turns under me and flings me round. The 
 stones I clutch slip and slide with me and come reeling 
 after me. 
 
 And now I feel the burning of the drink in me all the 
 way down, hotter and hotter like fire, with pains shoot- 
 ing all through me. I see flashes in my eyes and sparks 
 
 176 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 inside my head. The dim, hazy Hghts come bulging out 
 of the fog and are sucked back and swell near again, 
 drawn into hideous, flaming, whirling shapes, filling all 
 the air, writhing up to me, twisting round my throat, 
 crawliiig up into my head till m}- brain is struck as if by a 
 blinding flash and all is fire and racking pain. And in all 
 the glare, as if suddenly lit up by it, I see for a moment 
 the image of a place I do not know that I have ever seen, 
 but that I have since come to believe to be the seacoast 
 near the place where T was born. 
 
 When I came to myself I was in a strange room of up 
 and down boarding, painted light gray, and with many 
 windows. But wliere my recollections begin, it was not 
 strange any more. It was as though I had seen the room 
 several times before in a half blind way and as if some- 
 thing hateful had happened to me in it. 
 
 Only I could not clearly remember this. 
 
 It w^as a long, narrow room, and the one long side of it 
 was all wdndows. But the glass was of a kind one could 
 not see through. On the opposite side were a door and 
 a window. The farther door and window were open, 
 and I knew that tiiere was a kitchen. x\nd a Chinese 
 cook was m there, a Chinaman I had met before, I did 
 not know just v.-here. 
 
 Over me, diagonally across the room, was slung a 
 hammock which had some connection with what hateful 
 thing had happened to me before I fully came to myself. 
 The hammock was hooked over the wdndows at one end 
 arid at the other end triced up to an eyebolt in the ceiling 
 of the room with a long rawdiide rope, which came down 
 and Vvdth a round turn through an_other eyebolt in the floor 
 of the room, where it held my foot tight up to the bolt 
 with a double and treble lashing over ankle and under 
 heel, the end of ^l-e rawhide rope going up again and 
 made fast to a heavy iron hook in the wall, out of my 
 reach. I had tugg^^d and torn at that rawhide. I had 
 
 1/7 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 tried to gnaw it. I was holding onto it now with both 
 hands, sitting on the tioor, all naked. 
 
 I was covered wlrh bruises and welts and cuts, hurt sore 
 and skinned raw in many places. 
 
 The hammock moved. A head rose above the edge. 
 My heart gave a gieat jump, just one; it looked like my 
 friend. But it was the other man, the strange man. 
 
 As his eyes met mine, he skinned his teeth and put out 
 his arm. He could easily reach me with his hand. He 
 called mc "poor bov," and said I had been sick and asked 
 me to put out my tongue for him to see if I was still sick. 
 And wlien T opene 1 my mouth he struck me a wild blow 
 with the fist under the chin to make me bite my tongue. 
 But I was too quick for him. I had not opened my mouth 
 but a little and clo:.ed it again sharp, set my teeth and 
 ducked my head, so that the blow hardly grazed my 
 cheek. 
 
 He skinned his teeth again and tumbled out of the ham- 
 mock right on top of me, grabbing my hair with his one 
 hand and clutching my throat with the other, holding my 
 arms down with his knees, bending over, his face close to 
 mine, his teeth clacking as if to bite me, his eyes squinting 
 most hideously. 
 
 I had seen the face that way before. He had lain on 
 me just that way before. I was thinking of that, when 
 suddenly his lips turned all white and he let go of me and 
 sat startled, listeni*ig. I listened too. I heard nothing. 
 He got up, went to the door of the kitchen, and spoke 
 with the Chinaman in there. Quite a while I heard them 
 talking, but could not understand what was spoken. They 
 both went farther /ito the house. I heard them moving 
 round. Some doors were being opened and shut, then 
 all was still. 
 
 T don't know if for the moment I felt anything like 
 hope of deliverance, but I know when the strange man 
 presently returned bv the nearer one of the doors, T saw 
 
 178 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 that now all hope was gone. What had frightened him 
 had been nothing. He was coming for me again. He 
 was going to do something to me again. I was watching. 
 I felt. I suppose, like some small animal about to be fed 
 to a big beast of prey in the cage, to be torn to pieces and 
 devoured. 
 
 He was coming closer. He had a knife in his hand. 
 My knife ! He opened one of the smaller blades and set- 
 ting his thumb on it with the nail some distance back from 
 the point, showing it to me, grinning, asking me if that was 
 about right, jabbed it into me ten times, showing his teeth 
 and the white of his eyes at every stab, till awkwardly he 
 let the knife slip and drop on the floor within my reach, 
 whereupon he jumped and run crying and calling on the 
 Chinaman m the kitchen for help. 
 
 The Chinaman looked round tlie door jamb. I knew 
 him now at once. I had often seen him. For the last 
 two or three weeks he had been round our wharf almost 
 every day, sometimes he had been line fishing, but oftener 
 he had been acting as though he was trying to sell un- 
 stamped Chinese cigars to the big, young fellows round 
 the place. He had never, that I could tell, taken any 
 notice of me. But I had noticed him well, and also no- 
 ticed that if he was very irregular in his comings, when 
 my father had been there, he had always left our wharf 
 shortly after my father had gone away. 
 
 He came running with a kettle of boiling wjter to pour 
 on me if I did not instantly give up the knife. I had 
 grabbed it and tried to cut the rawhide with it. I might 
 as well have tried to cut a steel cable. I threw it down. 
 The man picked it up, but the Chinaman took it away 
 from him, calling him a damned fool, pointing to me 
 who was by this time all streaked with blood. He brought 
 some water and a sponge and started to wash the blood 
 ofif my body, while the man fetched a lemon cut in two. 
 
 1/9 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 which he squeeze 1 and rubbed into my cuts and raw 
 sores. 
 
 The pain this gave me was so terrible, I had to grit my 
 teeth almost to breaking them and clinch my finger nails 
 into my hands to keep from crying out. I could not 
 help writhing on tl:e floor. But it did seem to stop the 
 bleeding. 
 
 A dozen times the Chinaman called him a damned fool, 
 he grinning, saying nothing except : "Alright Lum ! Al- 
 right ! No more i ow ! Nice, little boy! Nice, clean, 
 stout boy! No more! No, Lum, no more now!" But 
 no sooner was the Chinaman gone into the kitchen than 
 he commenced somo new atrocities, when a bell over the 
 near door sharply rang three times and he hurried away. 
 I heard some talking; a woman's voice, and he came back 
 with a lady and a I'ttle giri, showing me to them, saying, 
 "That is he," pointing out my birthmark spots to them. 
 
 Tlie lady was |-he most beautiful woman I had ever 
 seen. And she had the sweetest smile. She would do 
 nothing to hurt me. The man took a cane from his ham- 
 mock. When I saw it I remembered it. He had beaten 
 me several times with it awfully. It was not a regular 
 cane, it was like the steel stem of a small umbrella with 
 some sharp, rough points and jagged edges that had cut 
 right through my skm and that he had sometimes worked 
 in my flesh like a saw, before I had fairly recovered my 
 senses. 
 
 He held it out to the lady, to take it and strike me with 
 it, "so that 1 should not forget her," he said ; with some 
 other foolish talk, telling her that I liked to be whipped 
 and never cried at i? ; and I should anyhow soon be taken 
 from them, so they must make the most of me while they 
 had me with them. The lady smiled more sweetly, but 
 said nothing and pushed his hand with the cane away, 
 whereupon lie gave it to the little girl who took it with 
 brightening eyes and quickly struck me with it across 
 
 i8o 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 tlie face, at which he lauglied and the lady smiled more 
 sweetly yet. He and the lady then went away together 
 by the first door, leaving the little girl behind with me. 
 
 She was a very pretty girl, not so very little, 
 not at all a baby, only she looked somewhat babyish. She 
 was near my height. She was dressed a good deal like 
 the lady, and I think 1 could yet, now, describe her cloth- 
 ing, piece by piece. She looked like the lady, too, but 
 more on account of their being dressed so much alike. 
 Otherwise she looked much more like the man. To me his 
 every feature, his pale, gray eyes, and their glancings, his 
 movements, his walk, everything was traceable in her, 
 heightened in her. 
 
 She kept striking at me with the cane, but her blows did 
 not hurt me at all. Her tight-fitting gloves prevented her 
 holding the cane, but just loosely. She seemed to under- 
 stand that she did not hurt me, and it made her angry. 
 She stepped quite < lose up to me, as I was sitting on my 
 feet doubled under '^oe, and spat at me. But she only spat 
 on herself. 
 
 I suppose my face showed something. I don't know 
 Avhat. I believe I half smiled, there came into her eyes 
 such a look of hate it appalled me. She would destroy. 
 If she only had the strength or the knowledge of means, 
 she would do all t:> crush, to kill. And like the man she 
 so much looked like, she would love to give pain, to tor- 
 ture. But I'ulike him she was not foolish nor afraid. 
 
 T reckon she comprehended that I should hardly dare 
 to hurt her. But she must also know that I might have 
 to do it in self-defense if she went too far. Yet she 
 dared me. She grasped my hair and tore at it to bring 
 my head down, that she could kick me in the face, and 
 she did not budge when I raised my hand to ward her off. 
 One blow^ she struck grazed my eye and made it water. 
 That made her glow with triumph, and she now directed 
 all her efforts to that eye, to drive the ferrule of the cane 
 
 i8i 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 into it. I caught the cane in my hand. She tugged and 
 tugged. I suddenly let go. She tumbled over, setting 
 up a great bawl. 
 
 "Papa! Papa!" 
 
 She was not hurt, nor crying with pain, or fright, or 
 fear, only howling mad with being thrown and defeated, 
 and screeching to bring on punishment for me, while I 
 sat bracing myself for what was sure to come. 
 
 But it was nothing. Lum, the Chinaman came running, 
 picked up the little girl and told her to shut up, calling 
 her a damned fool like the man, her papa. He, the 
 strange man came half dressed out of the near doorway; 
 she told him I had thrown her down, calling him papa 
 every time she spoke. He led her away. 
 
 For some time I sat expecting him back, waiting for 
 him to come and do something to me. It seemed so im- 
 possible that he would let this opportunity pass. And I 
 do not know but what I almost felt like having a beating 
 to my credit with him, which to make us even I had 
 to receive at his hands any time he chose to let me have 
 it. But instead of him, Lum came back and brought 
 me something to eat on a plate, a large plate with slices 
 of meat and bread and potatoes, holding the dish for me 
 to take the things ofif with my fingers, which I did fast 
 enough. I had had no idea how hungry I was. I had 
 felt no hunger at all till I saw the eatables. And Lum 
 encouraged me to eat plenty. He brought a second plate- 
 ful of different things and a third, till I could eat no 
 more. 
 
 After that I began feeling very heavy and drowsy. I 
 saw everything as if in smoke and at moments again 
 quite distinctly, as though I was suddenly awakened. But 
 I did not know that I had slept. I seemed to be awake all 
 the time. And all the time Lum was there with me. 
 He was cutting my hair, clipping it quite short, leaving 
 only a little top-knot in the centre, to which he tied a 
 
 182 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 queue of some hair and silk, like a Chinese boy's. 1 had 
 been untied, but I could barely move. 
 
 Then I found I had some clothes on. a new, striped 
 soft shirt with a red silk handkerchief tied under the 
 collar for a neck tie, a new% very stout pair of brown over- 
 all, of the kind which come up in front and back and are 
 fastened over the shoulders; over this another pair of 
 overalls, dirty and worn, and over everything a nasty 
 smelling, greasy, filthy old Chinese blouse that fitted tight 
 round my throat and had sleeves much too long and 
 sewed up at the ends, so I could not get my hands out- 
 
 The last thing Lum had to put on me was a pair of 
 shoes, but there was something wrong with them. Lum 
 became quite angry and cursed in English. At last he 
 took me into the kitchen where my own boots were stand- 
 ing and put them on my feet over the first overalls. 
 Finally he tied up my face and head with some Chinese 
 silk handkerchiefs, as if I had some pain or illness in my 
 head, and fastened so that I could not open my mouth. 
 Over the handkerchiefs I w^ore a new, soft, black hat, 
 just an ordinary white man's hat, such as Chinese mostly 
 wear when they do not wear their skull caps. 
 
 I saw myself in a mirror. We had left the room. 
 We had gone down a long stairway. Lum was carry- 
 ing me. We were in a street. It was fogg>'. It was 
 evening and there were many lights. But nothing was 
 clear. Somewhere we passed a large mirror and I saw 
 myself reflected in it. I could not know myself except 
 that I knew Lum and knew that he was carrying me, 
 and that my head was tied up ; it looked as though it was 
 a China boy he was carrying. In the street were many 
 kind of wagons. Many people were going both ways. 
 Some bells were ringing. We were going along with 
 more Chinamen, that had joined us. Once Lum put me 
 down to walk but I was so dizzy I kept stumbling all 
 the time. Another Chinaman took me up to carry me 
 
 183 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 for Luni. I heard whistles Hke of steamers en the bay. 
 Still more Chinamen had joined us. We went together 
 under a shed-roof. 
 
 It was night. We were aboard a vessel on the water. 
 A steamboat ! 1 could hear the noise and feel the motion. 
 It was very dark. After a while it was not quite so dark. 
 I was clearer in my head than I had been but still not 
 all right. I could see well enough and hear but I did 
 not seem to be able to speak or to move. 1 was lying on 
 some boxes, on which Lum was sitting in a crowd of 
 Chinamen. On both sides of us were piled up some sort 
 of freight. Farther back were some horses. 
 
 Some of the Chinamen spoke to me. They seemed 
 to know^ that I did not belong to them and yet to think 
 that I could understand their talk. And somehow I did 
 at times fancy I knew what they were saying and that 
 they were speaking about me. Several were eating sweets 
 and some pieces were offered me to eat. But I could 
 not eat. One who was very good natured-looking gave 
 me a whole, big, candied citron and when he saw I did 
 not care to eat it, cut it in two and feeling under my blouse 
 for the pockets in my shirt-front put the sweetmeat into 
 them, motioning for me to eat it afterwards. It was 
 the Chinaman who had carried me for Lum. 
 
 It was growing much lighter. We were en the for- 
 ward, lower deck of a bay-steamer, a stern-wheeler. 
 We were still under wa}- but not in the bay, in a narrow 
 w-aterw^ay. There was no fog and no wind and it was 
 not cold. 1 saw the paling moon pretty well down in the 
 West. Land was each side of us, very near, low land 
 thickly grown with tall, dark, reedy grass, bordered along 
 the water's edge with fat mud. Small water arms came 
 from out the grass with the same mud-borders. Some 
 stretches, all of mud wound in back from the water be- 
 tween the grass, resembling roads, all sun-baked and 
 
 cracked. 
 
 184 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Some bushes we passed and trees, some of such as I 
 had seen when I w^as with Antonio. It made me think 
 of Antonio for a moment. On his right hand, part of 
 his middle finger was off, and I remembered it then 
 as if the hand was before my eyes. 
 
 Behind tlie tall, dark grass, the land looked dry. 
 Some hills to one side had exactly the appearance of the 
 hills round the city and across the bay as seen from our 
 wharf, bare and sunburnt, tawny-drab. Some cattle I 
 saw and some horses. Pretty soon we came to fields 
 and vegetable-plantations greatly like those round An- 
 tonio's place, an.d trees in fruit, planted in rows as far 
 as one could follow them, all well kept and clean. 
 
 Ahead shone white what seemed to be some houses. 
 We were apparently going there. But just then the 
 steamer's bell clanged, we slowed up and turned to land 
 at a little wharf built over some yards of tide land in.to 
 the river. 
 
 I felt a sudden pang, remembering our wharf. 
 
 On the little wharf, to one side near the edge was 
 a lot of large split-wood piled up, and the deck-hands of 
 the boat had started in to take firewood from the 
 pile. Lum had taken me up and was carrying me ashore 
 in the midst of the Chinamen, who were all leaving the 
 steamboat in a jam. And at that very moment the to]) 
 of the sun came bursting up, flashing and blinding over 
 the far-away rim of the level land. 
 
 There were two wagon-roads starting from the land- 
 ing-wharf, one along the water down to some huts of a 
 Chinese camp, the other straight inland, skirting the 
 fields. Lum first went a short distance down the river- 
 road with the crowd of jabbering Chinese, but then 
 turned away from them into the next vegetable field, 
 walking with me quickly across it along a close-grown 
 hedge to the other end of it, where a gate in a fence 
 opened into the other wagon-road. 
 
 185 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 A little sag or hollow was in the ground where we 
 struck the road, hiding the river. I could see nothing 
 but the dusty road coming down one way and going up 
 the other with the accompanying fences, and a short 
 piece of the smoking funnel of the steamer and behind 
 it the crests of the bald, adobe-colored hills on the other 
 side of the river. The noisy gabbling of the Chinamen 
 had grown faint. From the steamer came the shriek of 
 the whistle and I heard her going off. A dust arose in the 
 road where it came over the swell of ground, and in it 
 were the heads of two horses, one white and one gray, a 
 team, a strong buggy with a brake, a man driving, muffled 
 up against the dust with linen dust-coat and buggy-robe 
 and goggles and thick veil all round the head under the 
 straw hat, handkerchiefs tied round his neck and wrists 
 overcoat-collar and sleeves, and long gloves on ! 
 
 T knew who he was. 
 
 Lum had already taken off my Chinese blouse and the 
 old overalls and pulled the handkerchiefs off my head 
 together with the pig-tail. He had even cut off the little 
 centre top-knot of hair he had left on my head when he 
 clipped it. I was glad the blouse was off. It had chafed 
 my throat and neck. 
 
 Before the team had fairly stopped in front of us, 
 Lum had handed me in and was making off with the old 
 clothes, when the man excitedly called him back, to come 
 and fasten me. My hands were linked together with 
 handcuffs behind me, my left ankle was secured with a 
 shackle and dog-chain to the rod at the bottom of the 
 dashboard. The chain was plenty long so that I could sit 
 on the seat by the man. 
 
 The road ran right on between the fences. The dust 
 was so deep in it and so fine and rose so high, it came 
 to the horses' backs like some dirty whitish-yellow sub- 
 stance which they seemed to be swimming in, or drift- 
 ing with the wagon, onlv that the jolts would tell of the 
 
 i86 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 solid ground below. It rose above my head, but not so 
 thick, and the little air moving going with us kept us 
 right in it. At times it would drift off a little to 
 one side and let me see over the land ; all level 
 and flat like the bay only bigger, much wider, farther 
 than for anyone to see, dust-colored under the burning 
 sun, with nothing growing, yet in places with stubbles 
 of grain-straw and away off may be a line of fence like 
 that on each side of the road, and a few trees and some 
 cattle ; ahead high land in the glary haze. Then the 
 dust would close in again till I could hardly breathe. 
 
 My e3^es and ears and mouth and nose were all 
 choked and smarting. My cuts and bruises hurt me more 
 than ever before. Most of all the fastenings of my 
 wrists gave me pains as though my shoulders were split- 
 ting. 
 
 The road was rough. The rolling and pitching of the 
 wagon not seldom threw^ me half off the seat. The back- 
 board of the seat was quite high and had an iron rod a 
 little distance below^ it- I clung to that rod with both 
 hands together or I think I must have gone overboard 
 several times. I could not steady myself with my feet 
 at all. I w^as too short. To hold on to that rod that way 
 behind me at first lessened the pains in my arms and 
 shoulders, but afterwards the strain grew much worse. I 
 let go and slid down in the bottom of the buggy. A box 
 or valise, something was under the seat. Against that 
 I could brace my back. My feet I gradually worked over 
 to the outside till my legs were stretched out straight. 
 The dust was worse on me that way, but I was much 
 eased in my shoulders and steadied against the jolts of 
 the wagon. 
 
 I dozed, but not long. Some bushes came to meet us. 
 A water-course was on my side below the wagon-road. 
 It was lev,' tide ; very little water was in it. On the banks 
 of it the bushes grew. 
 
 187 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 1 was dozing again when I heard noises. I could not 
 see what it was for the buggy robe had been thrown 
 over me- I managed to turn my head till I could look 
 out from under it. I caught glimpses of a big wagon 
 loaded with split-wood, such as I had seen lying piled up 
 on the little wharf of the steamboat-landing. At least 
 a dozen oxen were yoked to the wagon, going down the 
 road we were going up. I saw no men. And the wagon 
 was already past us. 
 
 We were going faster. We were no longer on level 
 ground. The water-course on my side with its bushes 
 was still there, but the road was higher above it. Ahead 
 a hill went rounding up from a low bluff. At the bluff 
 our road split in two. One, the one that seemed to be 
 the main road wound to the right around the hill, easy- 
 graded. The other which was narrower and much ne- 
 glected and less used, rose more steeply on the left side. 
 
 We headed up this old road. But just past the forking 
 point we stopped. Some big, round-top trees were stand- 
 ing there on the bluff' close together, their tops like one, 
 their shade spreading over both roads. Under them was a 
 spring. The bluff" had been dug out for the roads, form- 
 ing a bank. Out of the bank came the water. A wooden 
 spout had been stuck into the bank and led the water 
 into a barrel set in the ground under it. Out of the 
 barrel it overflowed again on the ground and tried 
 to get across the road in a narrow streak of damp, mak- 
 ing its way through the dust to reach the edge. 
 
 All round the dark wet was grass, soft and green 
 with a few little flowers between, like eyes to watch and 
 see. 
 
 The man set the buggy brake and got out. Tie took off 
 his veil and goggles and gloves and shook his dust-coat 
 and stretched and eased himself. He took out of one of 
 the many pockets of his coat a cup which he rinsed out 
 and let run full again and drank the water, making a great 
 
 t88 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANVS 
 
 sliow how re f resiling it was. Then lie came to me witli 
 the cup full of water, held it out to just but touch my lips, 
 then drew it back and poured it on the ground. He re- 
 peated the perfc-rmance several times, telling me to drink, 
 sayino- J did n.ot know hov/ fine the water was. 
 
 I had known he would not give me any water. 
 
 He waited another minute or two before he watered 
 the horses from a pail floating in the barrel. As soon as 
 they were satisfied and he had put on his gloves and veil, 
 but not his goggles, he got in the bugg}' again and we 
 Avent on briskly up the road. The water-course with its 
 bushes still kept on my side, but it was very much deeper 
 down now. Hills were rising all round. Many parts 
 were densely covered with short, scrubby brush of such 
 even top that it looked far off like solid ground grown, 
 may be. with green moss. In other places were bare 
 ground with dead grass and with some bushes, giving 
 glimpses between of the large level land we had come 
 through from the river- 
 
 I was sitting on the seat again, as I had done at first. 
 The road was very much less dusty. It looked very 
 much abandoned. In the middle of it some low shrubs 
 had sprung up between deep, old ruts. But there were 
 some new tracks of wagon wlieels. Some old fences 
 I saw but nowhere any cattle, nor any other animals 
 which I knew. Some I did see that looked a little like 
 rats, with long, bushy tails. They would race across 
 the road in front of the team into some holes in the 
 ground at the roadside. Once a very fine, large, blue 
 and black bird flew from out the bushes with great 
 screeching and scolding as we came near him. 
 
 The road kept winding in and out, up along the hill- 
 sides. The hills were always the same and always dif- 
 ferent at every turn. At times it looked as though they 
 would shut us in altogether. But just when it seemed 
 impossible that we could go anv farther, thev would oper. 
 
 189' 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 out, or the road would double back, and we would go 
 on from hill to hill, higher and higher and higher to where 
 the hills sloped together in one broad-backed, big, bald 
 mountain, and we came to where we could look over on 
 the other side. It was wooded in the lower parts and 
 in many places set with rocks and tall, dark trees with 
 pointed tops. 
 
 At my side to the left, the big, bald mountain was 
 bare all the way down to a narrow valley, and on the 
 other side of this valley was a rocky range with a jagged 
 crest. Over it the sun was declining. At the bottom of 
 the narrow valley, near the centre, already in shadow of 
 the rocky range was a dark greenish streak that must 
 be the water-course with the bushes which we had gone 
 alongside of from far in the great flatland which I could 
 not see anything of at all- 
 
 The horses went along slowly. The road was steep 
 in stretches. The big, bald mountain lay there among 
 others like the humpy back of some immense animal. 
 Over the narrow valley, not much higher than we, a big 
 bird was floating in the still air, slowly soaring around and 
 around. Once he came nearer, as if to look at us. Then 
 he wheeled and drifted away. Above the mountain-swell 
 in front and along towards both sides, peaks came in 
 view, farther away and higher, cutting into the pale, clear 
 sky. 
 
 The man pulled oflf his veil, and directly I caught his 
 eye, I saw something there that meant me harm. I had 
 seen the same thing before. Every time he had wanted 
 to do evil to me I had seen it in his eyes. He was 
 going to do something to me now. He put on the brake 
 and pulled up the horses. 
 
 We were below the crown of the bald mountain-hump. 
 Before us was a gap like a cut or split. An irregular 
 sort of bridge of large and small logs led over and 
 through it. From the depth at the right the bush ex- 
 
 190 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 tended np, filling the gap to near the bridge, and some 
 young, pointed trees on that side stood at the bridge's 
 butts, straight and tall, all golden in the sunbeams- On 
 my side the gap was but a rocky cleft in the stony moun- 
 tain-side, extending far down toward the water-course 
 in the bottom of the long, narrow valley. 
 
 He got out and tied the horses to tlie nearest tree 
 at the bridge- He loosed my chain from the rod at the 
 dashboard. He was excited now. He dragged me out 
 and pushed me to the edge of the bridge over the cleft. 
 I thought he meant to push me over. I turned to face 
 him. He had a pistol in his hand. He stepped back a 
 couple of steps to the length of the chain and raised his 
 arm and leveled his gun at me. 
 
 The peaks and the pale clear sky. the woods below, 
 every tall timber, the bushes and trees climbing up 
 towards the log-bridge in the golden sunshine, every 
 branch and leaf, every withered grass-blade on the crusty 
 ground by me in the flooding light, everything J saw ; 
 and the sun behind me, as I had seen it the moment before 
 over the jagged ridge of the rocky range on the other side 
 of the narrow valley, the sharp, deep shadow of the crest 
 more than halfway up on the bare, yellow mountainside, 
 behind, below me. 
 
 And the whole time I was looking in the eye, as if I 
 held him fast that way, so fixed and strained it gave me 
 a pain right between the eyes, down deep and so keen, 
 I had to fight it with all my power to keep it from 
 going deeper and striking my brain to confusion. For 
 all along I was trying to keep myself under control 
 against all distress and not to give up ; as if I knew that I 
 was lost if I got unnerved through any pain, or anything. 
 
 He could not shoot. He was afraid. I saw it. He 
 could not shoot as long as I held his eye that way- He 
 was afraid. His lips were as white as that time, how 
 long ago ! 
 
 T9T 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 But now ! He closed his eyes. The gun flew up with 
 the flash and the crack. I heard the bullet whistle ovcr 
 me and sing in the distance. The horses started and 
 shook. A big bird flew screaming from out the bush be- 
 low. And from around came the echo, once and again 
 and fainter again. 
 
 He had dropped the revolver, thrown it from him, 
 I think. When the echo came he put up his hands as if 
 to put them over his ears. He was grinning now. And 
 I too! I did not want to, but I could not hold my face. 
 I had to smile. But I turned my head dov/n a little. 
 I stopped looking at him. 
 
 He picked up his gun and stuck it in his pocket. He 
 led me back to the wagon, put me in and fastened me 
 again, untied the horses, got in. and we went on as 
 before, following the rough, old road, now nearly level, 
 but .slowly declining wnth the slope of the mountain. 
 
 The woods below to the right were stretching away, 
 filling all defiles and covering many of the lower hills, 
 some taller peaks standing in the green like promontories. 
 One was quite close or looked to be so; a single high, 
 rocky cliflf, rising sheer up from amongst tall, dark, sharp- 
 pointed trees. On it were some greenish streaks and 
 patches," perhaps brush and bushes. Quite near the top 
 and overtopping it stood a solitary stem of a tree which 
 might be big if it appeared small, all dead and bare with 
 but one green branch, sideways out, close to its top, like a 
 rag of a flag. 
 
 I looked up at it because the man did. And then he 
 and I looked down to the edge of the timber below us. 
 Some trees there seemed to have been burnt and a good 
 many cut away, leaving the stumps standing in the 
 scrubby underbrush, all between boulders and rocks. 
 Some long stacks of splitwood, piled up between the 
 stumps, looked very bright against the dark of the dense 
 
 192 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 undergrowth. A road too, became very plainly visible 
 there near the wood-piles, leading into the timber. 
 
 The sun was down now to the crags of the range on 
 the other side of the narrow valley, and the air was^ all 
 full of shining yellow. As we rode on, the highest points 
 of the range already covered him. In the gaps he re- 
 appeared, first almost full, in the next scarcely half, then 
 but a shapeless, quivering margin; then no more. The 
 yellow shine left the air. The glow faded from off the 
 high cliff and the other peaks. All things took on a tint 
 of Ufeless cold, and a great stillness seemed to fall on 
 everything. There had been but few sounds before, but 
 there were noises now, things making a shrilling, chirp- 
 ing everywhere, all around, so many, it sounded like 
 one tone Some birds, too, were calling; yet quietness 
 seemed to have come now that such sounds could be 
 heard. And I know I heard the sound of the wagon 
 moving and the horses stepping. 
 
 We were on different soil ; hard, adobe ground. Our 
 road had gone down along the side of the big mountain 
 towards the timber. But before we came to it we turned 
 into another road which to all appearances was the 
 timber road I had just before seen from above, and 
 which took us higher up again on a pretty even grade 
 in long zigzag stretches to where our big, humpy moun- 
 tain went sloping over into other mountains with irregular 
 
 peaks. 
 
 A black hole I saw in the mountain-side above us. 
 Below it was a large heap of rocks and dirt, as if it had 
 been dumped there. Then I saw another such hole and 
 yet another and to one side of them a few huts. 
 
 No signs of Hfe were there about them. They looked 
 entirely deserted and half gone to pieces. The road, too, 
 we were on, hard as it was, looked as unused as the road 
 we had come on over the mountains. 
 
 In a straight line we were not so far from the huts, 
 
 193 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 although it took the road several, long, zig zag stretches 
 to reach them, turning at sharp angles, following the 
 rounding of the mountain. But at the first angle-turn 
 of the road we came to another hut of which I had seen 
 nothing for the rounding of the mountain-shoulder till 
 we were almost upon it. 
 
 It was built of logs, looking very much like a big pile 
 of cord-wood with a double slanting roof. A chimney 
 stack of rocks with a barrel on it for a top was built on 
 the outside of the hut. And out of the barrel smoke was 
 coming, curling- 
 
 The cabin was standing not far away from the road, 
 down-hill, in a large, square lot, or field, fenced in on 
 ail sides with a split-rail fence. A gate was at the upper 
 front corner with a trail leading from the road to the 
 gate, which continued by it, farther on along the upper 
 side- fence to the rear corner, where it forked into three 
 trails running round the shoulder of the mountain at 
 <lilTerent grades. Near the uppermost trail, a little above 
 it, vvhere the ground tiattened. was another one of those 
 ])]ack holes v.ith dumped-out rocks, which 1 had seen on 
 tiic hill higher up. 
 
 We had stopped at the angle of the road near the 
 gate. We could see all over the place. Tlie ground 
 was just as bare as all the bald mountain. In places heaps 
 of rough rocks were breaking out of the ground. Other 
 big stones were lying about as if they had rolled there 
 from upper places. Where the trails went to in back, 
 you could not tell ; the ground fell away sharply, I could 
 only see some green there of timber -tops. 
 
 All was still and quiet and nobody moving. Inside 
 the gate stood a piebald pony ready saddled, the head 
 hanging down, half asleep. 
 
 The man halloed, and a big, ugly dog came from be- 
 hind the log-cabin and stood looking at us, making no 
 -noise. The man halloed again ; the low door of the log- 
 
 194 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 lint opened, a smallish, black man looked out and came 
 to the gate, pushed himself through with some difficulty 
 and walked up to the wagon. The dog followed. 
 
 The man had taken off my fetters in a great hurry. 
 When my arms came forward I could not feel them at all, 
 they were so numb- He gave me a wild shove ; to save 
 myself from falling, I had to jump. He handed out 
 to the Black a small leather bag with something in 
 it, money! saying something about an easy job and a 
 good little boy that would make no fuss. He also talked 
 about the road through the timber and that he must 
 hurry to get somewhere before it was too dark. At last, 
 pointing to me, lifting his right foot and making with the 
 whip-handle the sign and motion of cutting above the 
 heel, nodding at the Black, grinning pointing to the black 
 hole in the ground, laughing, calling cheerily good-by, 
 he whipped up the horses, turned and went down the 
 road to the timber. 
 
 I had seen and heard all this and understood it too, 
 pretty well. But I had all my mind on the dog. And 
 the dog was watching me. 
 
 He was a strange looking beast, long, stout, large al- 
 together but not tall ; his legs were much too short for 
 his size. His head was narrow, ears upright and his long 
 jaws had big fangs. His eyes lay flat in the nar- 
 row forehead, close together. I noticed he could not bear 
 to have me look into them ; so I did but just glance 
 at them from time to time, when I always found them 
 fastened on me, his short, dirty, yellow hair bristling 
 and his stumpy tail as upright as his ears. I watched the 
 Black, too. but not as I did the dog. 
 
 The Black was short with strong limbs and very 
 dark. But he was no Negro. He looked a little like a 
 Chinaman. Still he was no Chinaman at all. He wore 
 no queue, and his head was not shaved- His hair was 
 like mine, but coarse. He had no beard, but there was 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 a thin growth of fine, soft, black hah* on the lower part 
 of his face, and his chin. His clothes were ordinary 
 laborer's clothes, his pants held up by a leather belt 
 with a sheath and knife behind, like a sailor's. On his 
 right cheek he had two livid scars, from slashes, that gave 
 him a hideous look. 
 
 We stood till the team had gone dipping out of sight 
 down the road to the timber. The Black motioned to 
 me to go with him inside the fence, and when we were 
 through he told me to shut the gate. It was English he 
 spoke but so poorly, I could barely make out what he 
 meant; only I could guess it and shut the gate. It was 
 hard to move and pull to, it was so badly sagged and 
 so heavy. But I thought it made my arms feel better 
 to work them and so pulled at it more than necessary. 
 
 The dog was standing by and looking on till I was 
 done, when without warning he sprang at me and threw 
 me down and stood over me gradually laying himself 
 down on me with his whole, big body, so that I could 
 not move. My chin was in his mouth. I felt his hot 
 lips and tongue, and sometimes his fangs. I was sure 
 he would reach for my throat if I made the least struggle 
 and lay perfectly still. It was not many seconds, but 
 the heavy, flabby mass was so horrible to feel, so hot, 
 stifling, evil-smelling, his foul breath in my face, I could 
 not have borne it much longer. 
 
 I had not seen the Black make any sign for the dog 
 to attack me, though I thought he must have done so. 
 Again I saw no sign given, but the dog left me as sud- 
 denly as he had sprung at me, and let me get up and 
 follow the Black into the cabin. The dog stayed outside 
 the door. 
 
 The inside of the cabin was in one room, the logs 
 with brush between showed the roof above. On the 
 side opposite the door was a low, square, small-paned. 
 nailed-in window with three of the six glass-panes broken 
 
 196 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 out. xA-cross one end of the room was a bunk with a 
 broken, straw mattress and some awfuUv dirtv bed- 
 clothes hanging half down out of it. 
 
 At the other end where the chimney was, stood a 
 large, iron cook-stove. A low fire was going in it. A 
 large, covered sauce-pan with some stew was there set 
 back to simmer. A tall, tin pot full of water was on the 
 fire, boiling. In the corner between the stove and the 
 door was a cupboard. In the other corner by the stove 
 some firewood lay heaped up. Tow^ard the bunk stood a 
 small, rough table with a stool near by. 
 
 The w^hole place was dirty and foul. It smelled like 
 the Chinamen aboard the steamer, like all Chinese, of 
 opium. 
 
 The Black had gone to the table to empty the leather 
 bag on it. It was full of money, gold and diver. He 
 sat down to count it. He motioned for me to mend the 
 fire in the stove. I went there, picked up some sticks and 
 put them on the fire. The sticks were bush-branches or 
 brush, cut rather long, and they stuck out of the fire- 
 hole as I put them in the stove, and smoked as they 
 burned. It made the Black angry. I thought it was this 
 that made him atigry, but soon I saw there must be some- 
 thing wrong about the money. He counted it over and 
 over, put it back in the leather bag, poured it out on the 
 table again, counted it again, put it into the bag and into 
 his pocket, took it out once more, counted and recounted 
 it. Then he went hunting round, as though he was look- 
 ing for something and getting more and more mad at not 
 finding it, always going back to the counting of the 
 money after first putting it in the bag and into his 
 pocket, as if that was part of the counting. I did not 
 understand what he was hunting round for ever>^vhere. 
 What I really thought was that he was going away after 
 that strange man, about the money, and was looking for a 
 rope to bind me w^ith. Besides that, I thought he might 
 
 197 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 only be wanting to make himself mad and madder, till 
 mad enough to turn on me and undo me. 
 
 He was standing still now, looking at me. His hand 
 was on his knife. The scars on his cheek shone horribly 
 in the firelight. But he turned from me, run to the door, 
 called in the dog, spoke to him, pointing at me and 
 rushed out of the door closing it after him. I heard him 
 open the gate, mount the pony and go awa}- at a gallop. 
 
 The dog lay at the door with his long head on his 
 clumsy paws- I pretended not to notice him. I was be- 
 hind the stove near the wood-heajx I stood quite still. 
 1 knew without a weapon I was no match for him. I 
 began to move about a little. I wanted to know what 
 he would do. The stovedoor was open. There was some 
 light from the fire. No light came from the outside any 
 more. I picked out some sticks of wood, the longest 
 there were, and shoved them into the fire through the 
 open stovedoor. They made more smoke but also more 
 light, after a while a good deal of light and fire. But 
 the fire did not reach the ends of the long sticks project- 
 ing outside the stove door. 
 
 I tasted the stew with the wooden spoon lying on the 
 saucepan-lid. It was good and I ate some of it. The 
 dog did not interfere. I took a piece of the stewed 
 meat and put it on a stick and held it out to him, when 
 instantly his head was up, snarling, all his fangs glisten- 
 ing till I had gone behind the stove again. 
 
 I wanted a drink of water now very badly. But there 
 was only the water boiling in the tin pot on the stove. 
 
 I started to move about again. Indififerently I took a 
 step here and there. I opened the cupboard door. A 
 box with crackers stood there open, half empty. I took 
 some crackers and put them in my hind pockets. I think 
 I really w^as looking for a knife. The dog was watching 
 me ; everywhere his flat eyes with the red light of the fire 
 shining in them were following me. I moved a few steps 
 
 198 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 over to the little table, and his head was up again im- 
 mediately, growling, as if ordering me back behind the 
 stove. 
 
 I had put more wood on the fire again. I believe I 
 was planning now to fight the dog with the long, burn- 
 ing sticks of brushwood that 1 could hold by their 
 burned ends. 
 
 Tlien it all had happened in one minute. 
 
 There was a noise outside. Some sound ! I had 
 started. The dog was up and at me. I snatched the 
 pot from the stove and as he came at me I poured the 
 boiling water into his mouth, down his throat, as he fell, 
 into his ears and eyes and nose- I tore the burning sticks 
 from the fire and pitched them into the bunk on the 
 broken straw mattress and the bed clothes. I was at the 
 door: it was fastened on the outside. I dragged the 
 table to the window and the stool and was on the table 
 and kicked out the sashbars where the glass panes were 
 out. One of the panes broke with the bars a^d made a 
 loud noise. I was outside on the ground I 
 
 How dark it was ! Stars were flaming ! How near 
 they looked ! 
 
 There was no noise. Xot a sound! 
 
 I was over the gate. The Black had left it shut. I 
 was running on the trail to get to the road we had come 
 on in the buggy. 
 
 1 was thinking how the dog had fallen over and struck 
 his head on the floor with a strangled gasp and lain 
 like dead. 
 
 T had not heard it, but now I did. A noise! Ahead! 
 The clatter of a running horse coming toward me, up 
 the road ! The Black coming back ! And it was then 
 the terrors first came upon me. 
 
 I had turned and was running on the trail by the 
 gate along the upper fence of the field the cabin stood in, 
 to the rear corner where the trail branched into three. 
 
 199 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 The running horse seemed to be right behind me. I 
 heard it snorting. I thought I felt its hot breath. Some- 
 thing was coming rushing on to seize me. In running 
 by I had seen in the cabin window the flare of the fire 
 in the bunk Hcking up the brush under the roof. And 
 the fire now seemed to keep with me and make me visible 
 to what was coming after me. 
 
 I was on the lowest of the three trails. I could dis- 
 tinguish one side of it. It showed a darker margin. 
 Some black spots were in the trail. I thought they were 
 large holes in the ground and jumped over them. They 
 were low stones stuck fast in the ground. I stumbled 
 over them and went falling off the trail, rolling, sliding 
 and tumbling down the steep, pitching over, trying to 
 stop and stand, and then diving on down and down, where 
 the ground turned and I got among bushes; after me 
 always the clatter of the running horse on the hard 
 adobe road, nearer, closer. I knew it could not be, it was 
 not, it was but in me. Yet it would come nearer till I 
 would rush into the brush and stand stuck-fast, and 
 listen. Blacliness and utter silence all around my heart 
 knocking in my ears, till a twig snapped and sent me 
 jumping back into the open and on, slipping and fall- 
 ing dow^n-hill amongst bushes in open spaces. Between 
 black tree-tops above, I saw the stars. Below all was 
 black. Once the ground gave way and let me down slid- 
 ing with it. It was loose like coarse gravel. I hated the 
 noise it made as I went with it in long strides in a slant- 
 ing way down the height, fast and easy. Then the 
 ground grew hard again. 
 
 It changed all the time. Sometimes it became quite 
 level and again so steep I could only crawl and slide or go 
 down by hand from bush to bush. 
 
 Suddenly a broad flame was before me, quite near. 
 No! It was far away. It was the moon coming up out 
 of the black mountains ahead. 
 
 200 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Now I thought I knew exactly where 1 was, or at least 
 could tell just where our wharf was and our bay ; and if I 
 could only get on top of the wooded hills opposite me 
 where the moon had risen, I would be able to go in the 
 direction toward it ; a little to one side under the moon ! 
 
 The ground was running to gravel again with rocks in 
 it, big rocks. I was slipping dowm between them and had 
 to hold on by the bushes. I seemed to be in a sort of 
 cleft in a cliff. The rocks were bare and wet. I had 
 caught hold of the branch of a tree pressing up in the 
 rocky cleft from below. I could not see the moon now, 
 but her light was on the rocks above and behind me and 
 all around. I was in the top of a tall tree with many 
 branches with whitish bark, rising out of the blackness 
 below, and I went sliding dow-n till I landed in a field of 
 big, smooth rocks, beside and under and on top of each 
 other with trees and bushes between. 
 
 I lieard some trickling and felt a dampness. Between 
 some stones at my hand was water I could reach to 
 drink ; and it was as though I must have died had I not 
 found it. 
 
 I crawled over one stoneblock and down the next and 
 the next, and dragged myself up another, a big, smooth 
 boulder among bushes under trees- I could go no farther. 
 I could go on no more. I was dead beat. I lay with my 
 face on the stone. Above me the moon shining on the 
 wet cliff like a vision. A soft noise came to me like that 
 of the surf of the bay, and a sharp pain cut into my heart 
 from the thought of our wharf. And then it all left me. 
 
 A bird was calling in the tree above my head, a 
 
 pretty bird of gray and white. Another one came flying 
 
 by. The first one darted after. The branch shook and a 
 
 201 
 
CHRONICLES OP MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 dry leaf came jiggling down and fell with a faint swish 
 by my cheek on the stone. 
 
 The blue of the sky and the sunlight shone everywhere 
 through between the leaves, and from some moving water 
 somewhere below, the sunbeams came reflecte 1 and went 
 in shining light-lines up the trunk, along the coughs and 
 branches and out under the leaves of the tree ever me. 
 
 It was a large tree with many vv^hitish blotches on the 
 bark, the stout trunk leaning quite close over the big, 
 smooth stone on which I lay, and then going up straight 
 to a great height with large, strong branches. 
 
 Another tree close to it was all different with twisted 
 trunk and branches, light-brown and smooth, naked-like, 
 and with dark green leaves that glistened as though 
 freshly painted. 
 
 Beside it stood several trees together that were the 
 biggest ones of all, and they were of the kinds with the 
 pointed tops, all straight, with deep-wrinkled bark. 
 
 Bushes came in a tangle from all sides, growing over 
 and around fallen tree-trunks, which lay with their dead 
 branches fallen about under the other trees and over 
 the big stone-blocks and over and under each other. 
 
 Far in the distance something was cooing. And the 
 trickling of the water was going on all the time so gently 
 even, I did not know I heard it and did not think of water- 
 Away, up above, something was hammering. A bird 
 of white and black and scarlet came sweeping like a 
 flash down and on to the biggest tree. And it was this 
 that did the hammering. I had thought it was a bird. 
 He stood upright on the rough bark of the tree and 
 hammered with liis bill. It sounded loud through all the 
 w^ood till the bird flew away, and I heard him hammer- 
 ing again, up above, far away. A broad, sunlight spot 
 had come on the stone right above my eyes, near my 
 hand, and in the sunbeam above it wee, tiny, flying, little 
 things were dancing up and down and dashing round 
 
 202 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL J LAN US 
 
 each other, darting away and back and round again as 
 in play and standing still in the air, almost as if tied to 
 threads too fine to see, and worked by them. And now an- 
 other light-spot came and another and more yet, and in 
 them a little animal. And I knew it. It was a lizard; 
 though I could not think where I had ever seen one be- 
 fore. It had the friendliest, twinkling eyes. I thought it 
 looked into my eyes. It thought it knew me, I thought. 
 I winked. It did not stir. I moved my finger, and it 
 was gone, and I was sorry. 
 
 I wanted to try if I could see where it had scampered 
 off to, but when I went to move my head, I found I 
 was so sore and stiff and full of pains, I could hardly 
 stir- 
 But all at once I felt no more soreness. It was like a 
 shock. I lay stark still. My heart beat as if the boulder 
 under me were quaking. I thought I heard the voices of 
 men. It was nothing. I knew it right away. It was a 
 bird that called something sounding like : "Look out 
 now I Look out!" Afterwards I saw it. A beautiful 
 bird, grayish blue with darker wings and black and white 
 markings, and with a proud, little feather on his head. 
 
 I moved a little and gradually pushed and slid and 
 worked myself down from my big boulder and over 
 others. They lay so tumbled together, in some places I 
 could hardly make my way : till there was a widening, 
 and I came to a water-hole. 
 
 At one end a little rill of water ran into it, falling 
 over the stones, clucking to itself. At the other end it 
 ran out the same way- A small gravelly sandbank divided 
 the running water from the other part, the still pool, 
 which went in under the root of a big tree. Along both 
 sides lay stones, large and small, and farther back, high 
 up over the trees shone the bare, wet cliff where all 
 the water-run seemed to start from, out of a slit near the 
 top, trickling down the rock-face. 
 
 203 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 When I knelt down on the gravelly sand-spit that 
 curved round the pool up to the big tree just like a little 
 low beach, and leaned over the water to drink, I saw I was 
 black and grimy with dust and dirt, dried blood and other 
 stains, that it was not myself at all that I looked like. 
 Even the white of my eyes was blackish. And my shirt 
 was torn to tatters. 
 
 I drank, and the water seemed to give me life all 
 through me. It was very cold. And it was so clear, 
 I could see in the pool every little stone and small piece 
 of waterlogged wood and pit of gravel and speck of any- 
 thing on the brownish bottom. There was reflected the 
 stones and the big tree-root twisted out over the water, 
 and the grasses, every plant around the root, and part of 
 the rough trunk, the green-leaved bushes, branches, the 
 bare, wet cliff among the high trees, and higher still rocks, 
 crags, peaks holding up the sky, and in the middle of it all 
 myself; all like a picture. 
 
 I drank more water. It was the finest I ever had 
 tasted. When I had drunk I began to wash my face a 
 little. I remembered I had left my liat in the log hut 
 of the Black. I took off the red silk handkerchief from 
 my neck. It was all spoiled with dirt and sweat. I felt 
 sorry about it. I felt sorry, too, that I had left my hat 
 behind- But I was glad I had not taken it along and 
 lost it. I thought it was burnt now. 
 
 I washed the handkerchief in the running water as 
 well as I could and spread it on a smooth stone block 
 in the sun to dry. My shirt had been very much torn to 
 pieces only my overalls coming up so high on my breast 
 and back had saved it somewhat. The overalls of such 
 stout stuff", fitting snug and being stuck in the boots, 
 were but little torn, only chafed and scratched pretty 
 badly. And my boots were no more than scratched from 
 the rocks and a little muddy and wet from the water. 
 
 I took everything off. My boots I wiped with some 
 
 204 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 leaves and put them in the sun. In the hind-pocket of 
 my overalls I found the crackers I had taken from the 
 box in the log cabin. They were all smashed to crumbs. 
 I turned them very carefully out on to a large, flat, 
 smooth stone, moistened them with a little water and ate 
 them. I washed the overalls and spread them out on the 
 hottest, smooth rock. In the breastpockets of my shirt 
 I found the sweatmeat the Chinaman aboard the steam- 
 boat had given me. It was quite a job to get it out of 
 the pockets it had been so squeezed and flattened out. 
 It had got wet, too. I laid it down by the handkerchief. 
 1 did not want to eat it then. My shirt I washed most 
 carefully, not to tear it more, and spread it on another 
 stone in the sun to dry, while I got in the water to wash 
 my whole head and body. 
 
 The pool was not deep. The water was not above my 
 navel when I stood on the deepest spot. There was no 
 room to swim, but I could float there well and turn about. 
 1 had first washed my face again and scrubbed my head, 
 using sand for soap. A long time I lay on my back 
 on the rocks where the water was shallowest, to let it run 
 over my open eyes as it came jumping off the stones above 
 on to my head. 
 
 I stayed in the water so long, I was chilled clear 
 through when I came out. I sat on the hot stones in 
 the sun to get warm, but as I got warmer my hurts and 
 wounds began to pain me a good deal, though not so much 
 after I had turned a little warmer. As soon as my 
 clothes were dry I put them on. I put the two pieces 
 of sweetmeat back into the shirt pockets. I ate a little 
 off them to make them fit easier. It tasted good. But 
 I could do without eating yet. The handkerchief I 
 tied round my head. My boots I put on as before, 
 over my overalls. I had picked up a straight stiff stick, 
 as long as a fishing-rod. It was deadwood but very tough 
 and not heavy at all. I had tried several sticks before I 
 
 205 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 liacl found this one which was smooth and just fitting my 
 hand, to steady myself with as I went chmbing my way 
 amongst the rocks, following the water. 
 
 It was like a stream of stones through the wild woods, 
 between the steep heights that rose on both sides. In the 
 middle the stones were more smooth. Toward the sides 
 lay more rough blocks and boulders, and piles of rocks 
 and whole pieces of hills, as if it had all slidden down 
 from the heights. 
 
 Trees and bushes were everywhere. Shrubs and 
 soft plants with young shoots grew between the smooth 
 stones and spread themselves out over them, and trees 
 crowded in from both sides and pieces of dead wood 
 lay about, big branches, whole logs, all weathered-out. 
 Often it was hard to get through. But it w^as always 
 easiest to get along where the smooth stone blocks 
 were lying along the centre. Away from them, the 
 trees stood closer, the brush was denser; and then 
 above came the rocky heights to the rii;ht and left, 
 where the tall trees with the pointed tops grew up to the 
 edge, peering over and in between bright fields of chap- 
 arral. 
 
 From the tall trees came a sound like the surf. I 
 could hear it. but 1 could not see the trees move. I felt 
 no wind. There was no fog. It was warm. The air 
 was pure and sweet. And everything was oh ! so clear 
 and bright and beautiful in the sunshine everywhere. 
 
 The big, smooth stone blocks were in all places 
 packed with smaller ones, and between the stones was 
 water, often forming puddles. The water was always 
 quite cold, though the stones in the sun were so warm. 
 
 The water, everywhere was very low and running 
 out a little more all the time. But at times it must have 
 been much higher. For in places there were short 
 benches of arlobe with sand on top, and I could see where 
 the sand and clay liad been v.ashed away from the roots- 
 
 206- 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 of the bushes growing there. And grass which now was 
 all dry and dead. Small drift-wood had been carried 
 against the bushes and held there, all of which must have 
 been done by water when it was higher in the creek, like 
 tides in the bay. 
 
 At certain places, I fancied I \vas deeper down in the 
 canyon than at others, the creek-botton changing to a 
 narrow, bare bed of rock with no loose stones round 
 and with more precipitous sides. And down the sides 
 were runs or trails in the bush straight to the bottom. 
 Some of these trails were dry water-ways, I could tell ; 
 others I could not think what had made them. In some 
 of them I tried to go up, because I always felt like 
 climbing to the top somewhere, to see where I 
 was. But 1 never could get up far before the 
 ground would turn too steep and rough, with rocky 
 gravel-top. Or the run would die out rio;ht in the 
 chaparral under some clifif. And through the chaparral 
 1 never could make my way, I had soon found out. 
 It was too dense and tough, like a matting of twisted 
 twigs ; you could not tear it. nor l.Tcak it. Everything 
 covering the ground was the same: woody-tough. Fresh 
 grass and soft plants grew only where moii^ture was in the 
 ground. 
 
 Such moist spots in the shade would look bright and 
 green as though the sun was shining on them. There was 
 gr.-^ss in bloom, big-leaved plants, and so many beautiful 
 dowsers of many kinds, some so small, T had not 
 thought before there could be any so tiny. 
 
 When I was at the top-end of such a run, I always 
 thought I must be up quite high, but I was not, and T 
 never could see anything more than could be seen be- 
 low. I constantly heard a rustling under the brush, 
 but nothing ever came out. One little bird I saw 
 where at the edge of the chaparral a tree had fallen 
 and struck down others and made a h\^ cleara^e in the 
 
 207 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 brush. It was a small, gray bird with black head and 
 neck and throat, like a hood, so black I could barely 
 distinguish his black eyes and bill. He was searching 
 among the sparse, dead leaves right at my feet, step- 
 ping about, turning every little while his head to look 
 at me, not afraid, but as if amused at my watching 
 him catching moths. And all my life since, I have not 
 forgotten that little bird. 
 
 Two animals came jumping on the fallen tree and 
 when they saw me, made a great ado, scolding, calling: 
 "Chick! Chick!" They looked a good deal like the 
 dusty animals with bushy tails I had seen the day be- 
 fore running across the road in front of the team. They 
 were smaller though and much prettier, striped black 
 and gray and brown. Their tails were much smaller 
 and not bushy. They kept whisking them all the time, 
 making a noise. I liked them. But just as soon as I 
 moved they raced away. 
 
 Little, black insects were everywhere traveling along 
 the dead-wood, on the ground, over the rocks, up the trees 
 and down. I knew them, they were ants, but some were 
 bigger than any I had ever seen. 
 
 I knew many things. Among the stones, wherever 
 there was water, a pale, green plant was growing with 
 a broad, whitish, small-flowering, flat top, which was 
 a bad plant to eat, although it looked very much like a 
 garden plant that was good to eat. And a bush grow- 
 ing all about with leaves turning red was very bad 
 to touch. 
 
 The large, big trees with the pointed tops, high above 
 the others how wonderful they were! Straight and 
 lofty, taller than the tallest mast of any ship ! Some 
 w^ere mast-high before they gave off any limbs. Many 
 of them were scorched, others had been badly burnt 
 but had green tops. Others yet were rotted to the top 
 and still had some green branches. On the trunks of 
 
 208 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 many was yellow moss : on the branches, too, all on the 
 
 same side. , , 
 
 When I came back from the trails to the creek. 1 
 would sometimes try to see where I had been how 
 far up on the trails. But I never could tell, except that 
 I had not gone very far. Very seldom could I dis- 
 tinguish from below any trees that I had taken notice 
 of above Thev looked so different from diMerent 
 points. The rocks, too, sticking out everywhere were 
 confusing. It was all confusion. 
 
 As I journeyed on I always felt the heat more where 
 the rocks were bare and the tall timber ceased In 
 one place it was stifling hot. The green had nearly all 
 disappeared. I was in a gorge of solid rock Ihe 
 sides were walls that hung over down to the bottom of 
 the canvon. There was no shade. The sun was high. 
 The gorge narrowed in to where there was a ledge across 
 from side to side like a rude dam, as high as my head^ 
 There was no water. It might be drained off 
 through cracks in the rocky bottom. It must have 
 been high enough to go over the dam some time or 
 other, l" could tell by the marks. I climbed to the top 
 of the dam and looked over. It was a good deal deeper 
 down than the bottom above. I could not jump it. but 
 I could work my wav along the top of the dam to one 
 side of the gorge where rocks had fallen from above m 
 a heap, to which I could lower myseslf over the dam. 
 hanging w^ith mv hands to the edge. 
 
 Where the gorge ended was a small dry, rocky, 
 sandv plain with a great number of dead trees, streach- 
 h,^ out their white, naked branches as though for 
 help As I was looking at them I saw far away the 
 cliff with the lone tree near the top with the one green 
 branch, like a rag of a flag, I had seen the evenmg be- 
 fore from the broad-backed mountain. 
 
 I slipped behind the nearest big rock. I telt as 
 
 209 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 though I could be seen from up there. Yet it looked 
 so far and so high up, it seemed impossible that 1 had 
 come so far and down from such a height. And I 
 wanted to think it was not the tree I knew it to be. I 
 kept moving on behind big stones, till I could see it 
 no more. 
 
 The wooded heights on both sides were changed. 
 The one was a mountain-side with many trees, the 
 other a rising bank with a large field of chaparral, slop- 
 ing up, back ; and in the chaparral I saw an opening, as 
 if a road came down there, to the top of the bank. 
 
 I hid behind a boulder to watch. I saw very soon it 
 was no road. It bore no tracks of wagons, or horses, 
 and it came dead onto the o-dgt of the bank over the stony 
 creek. In the middle of it was a rocky gutter. It was a 
 dry water-course, I was certain. It had a thin edging of 
 withered grass and small weeds. On each side was a space 
 like a walk, up the slope through the chaparral, as if be- 
 tween dense hedges. 
 
 The scarp of the bank was steep, but by the roots of 
 the cliaparral I could easily climb up to the top of the 
 bank from where the course went up at a very easy 
 grade, always about the same width. The walking v/as 
 bad. The ground was hard and covered with little 
 crumbs of rock, all the time turning under foot and 
 slipping. And the chaparral was just too high for me 
 to look over and see anything before me, save the sky. 
 Every few minutes I stood still to listen. I only heard 
 the distant mournful cooing, the faint sound of the air 
 in the tree-tops on the other side of the creek and the 
 rustling under the brush. Several times I wanted to 
 turn back. But I kept on walking till I should come 
 to the end of the course, or to where I could see some- 
 thing. Another moment and I was at the end. 
 
 It was an open, bare, irregularly round place in the 
 chaparrnl field, of such as I had already seen many. In 
 
 2IO 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 the middle of it was a big heap of rocks. Not rocks 
 like the ones in the creek, smooth and clean, but dirty 
 and old-looking, as though broken out of the ground* 
 long ago and then split and fallen together again, 
 weather-worn, covered with decay and much overgrown 
 with creepers and shrubs ! 
 
 In front of the rock-pile the water-gutter started. 
 But the water was not now enough to run. The 
 ground was but just damp. I walked round the whole 
 clear space. It was completely closed in, with no other 
 outlet but the course I had come up. When I turned 
 to the rocks I found the ones in back covered with creep- 
 ers full of berries that I knew. They were blackberries 
 and I ate them every one. I clambered up the rocks to 
 look for more, but I found none. 
 
 From the rocks I could look over the chaparral and 
 see everything around. 
 
 Before me was the slope down to my creek and the 
 mountain opposite, so steep it looked to be hard for 
 the big trees there to stand erect and hold on with 
 their roots and keep from slipping down. Behind me 
 trees and rocks rose from the great field of chaparral to 
 dense woods and cliffs and peaks, and to the other side 
 all the hills and woods fell away together to a distant 
 V-shaped cut. And in the cut, away as far as the eye 
 could see, dim in the shiny, whitish haze was a pale, 
 gray flat-land, such as I had come through in the buggy 
 with that strange man, the day before. 
 
 A large butterfly, orange with black and cobalt mark- 
 ings, lit on a large yellow flower growing on the rocks 
 below my head, spreading his wings to the sun, as if 
 breathing, flying away again immediately, staggering 
 as though with the heat. 
 
 It was so warm, I felt it like some substance, pouring 
 over my skin. From every stick of dead-wood, from 
 every bare rock, the air went trembling up. AH else 
 
 211 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 was motionless and still, as if being kept down by the 
 weight of the sunbeams! The big trees in the dis- 
 tance on silent guard, waiting, watching, lookii>g- over 
 each other's heads ! The faint sighing of the tree-tops ! 
 The unchanging cooing, mournfully sounding from 
 afar! And dowm toward the cut in the mountain- 
 ranges, slowly soared a large bird! Maybe the bird 
 I saw hanging over the narrow valley the afternoon 
 before ! 
 
 Then came startlingly near the noise of the hammer- 
 ing bird. 
 
 Another sound came upon my ear. In the air close 
 to my face stood a very small bird with a long, thin bill 
 and a beautiful, flashing-green throat. His wings 
 moved so quickly I could see them but as a shadow. 
 They made the noise of the purring of a cat. He 
 moved nearer to my ear. I guessed he wanted to catch 
 at my red handkerchief. But it really looked as if he 
 wanted to tell me something. He shot away so quickly 
 I could not see where he went. 
 
 I had climbed up on the rocky mound a little higher 
 when I heard the bird again. I thought I did. It 
 sounded like his noise, and quite near. As I turned I 
 saw lying on a shelf of rock at my elbow, coiled in a 
 sort of double loop, a horrible, long, scaly snake, thicker 
 than my arm, waving his three-cornered head and run- 
 ning out his black, slitted tongue at me and shaking 
 his tail, which made the whirring sound I jumped 
 right back sideways clear of the rocks, almost tumbling 
 over. Then I stood ready with my stick for him to 
 come. But he did not come. 
 
 Right after that I had a terrible scare. I thought I 
 saw the Black. It was the stump of an old burnt tree 
 in the chaparral. I had seen it before, too, but from the 
 other side. From this side it looked a little like the 
 form of a man, standing bent over. I felt weak in my 
 
 212 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 knees after the fright all the way down, running back 
 to my stony creek. 
 
 I wanted some water to drink very much and when 
 finally I came where there was some again in the creek 
 I could not get enough for a long time, till water be- 
 came more plentiful again. In some pools I saw some 
 minnows. But there never was water enough for 
 larger fish. Funny, thin, little flies or spiders I noticed 
 standing on the water on their feet and moving round, 
 pushing their feet about. And the shadow on the bottom 
 looked as though they had on some kind of big, square 
 
 shoes. 
 
 No real, full shade had ever been in the creek and 
 when the sunshine suddenly ceased I looked to see 
 what could be the matter. The sun had gone behind 
 the heights. Very soon it grew cooler, a little air was 
 coming up the creek, the sounding of the surf was 
 louder, some birds were calling, the mosquitoes were 
 buzzing, and the shade deepened. 
 
 I had just finished eating my sweetmeat, standing at 
 a bend of the creek where there was some water, when 
 ahead of me an animal came out of the brush into the 
 creek and commenced to drink. It looked like a dog 
 hut it was not. It stood higher in the legs than a 
 dog. It had come very softly on one of those down- 
 hill trails, making hardly any noise. Only that I was 
 standing quite still and just looking in that direction 
 so as to see it, I should not have known of its coming 
 and being there. I did not move and made no noise, 
 but pretty soon it swiftly turned its head to me and 
 when it saw me, started as if it had been struck. I 
 held out my hand to it and snapped my fingers. It 
 lifted its lip at me and slunk away into the bush. 
 
 When I had finished my sweetmeat I started on 
 again always keeping on down the canyon. It was now 
 good walking. The bigger stones lay farther apart 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 and the cobbles made an evener bottom. The water 
 was sunk away again till it was barely wet between 
 the cobbles. It was getting dusk. For a little while 
 I had heard a rustling and crackling in the bush and 
 had thought here must come a big animal, but this time 
 it was only a little fellow, not bigger than a small kit- 
 ten, that came into the creek. He was long-haired and 
 black, with a long, bushy tail and two white stripes 
 from the forehead down the back and tail. He went 
 unconcernedly nosing and pawing about over the cob- 
 bles. And now he must have seen me. He came 
 straight towards me where I was standing. He was 
 only a young fellow. He might not be of a kind to 
 grow much bigger but I could tell he was only a young 
 animal. Like a little child I wanted to stroke him if 
 I could be sure it would not scare him. He rubbed 
 himself round my legs, ran ahead a little, came back 
 and kept at my feet, making a little, chattering noise as 
 if telling me of something he wanted me to do. I 
 walked ahead slowly, careful not to step on him. He 
 did not care how much he stepped on my toes, chat- 
 tering away, telling me a long story, till I bent over and 
 held down my hand. As if that were what he had 
 wanted me to do he came right up to it. ran his mouth 
 over it, but not to bite, put his little forepaws in it, 
 with the sharp, small nails, and tried to snuggle into it. 
 It was the warmth of it he liked, I thought, for his 
 belly hair was wet and his feet were cold. But my 
 hand was too small. He kept slipping out, though he 
 tried hard to hold on. And then he stood and stamped 
 his forefeet and chattered exactly as if scolding me. So 
 I put my stick under my arm to put down both hands to 
 lift him to my breast. 
 
 At that moment I saw a light, a small moving light, 
 then another and another. 
 
 I had for a second not known what it meant. They 
 
 214 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 were small, little things flying about, which were like 
 sparks of light, such as I had often seen moving m the 
 water of the bay at our wharf. It had startled me to 
 Tee the things, and when I turned again to the young 
 fellow, he w^as gone. I could not thmk how he could 
 have left me so all at once. I felt so sorry I d d not 
 know what to do. I made a chattering noise with my 
 mouth to call him, but I got no answer 1 could not 
 hear him move, though a dozen times I thought I saw 
 him Every black spot I took to be him. It was get- 
 ting dark so fast now, it was hard to distinguish any_ 
 thing. I walked back a little way to where I had 
 passed a large smooth stone. I climbed upon it. I sat 
 and waited if he would not come to me In my sleep 1 
 vet felt sorrv he had left me, and I dreamed of him, 
 hat I felt his fur. And once in the night I half awoke 
 from something breathing in my face and jumping away 
 from me in the darkness. 
 
 In the morning it was cool and a light fog bung in the 
 woods. But as soon as the sun was risen, it became al 
 clear and hot. I was thinking again of that little aiumal 
 and looked for it in the bushes as I went along. I looked 
 for blackberries, too, but found none. Some other little 
 berries I did find that I could eat. They grew on low 
 thorny shrubs and were sort of hairy. They were not 
 bad, but there were not many. I drank water, whenever 
 I could find it, for my hunger. It was growing scarcer all 
 the time and at last there was no more at all. Ihe creek 
 was all dry ; just dry, bare, blistering hot rocks 
 
 A wide, stony ledge was in the creek-bottom, going 
 up the face of the canyon-walls on both sides and 
 beyond this ledge all was black from fire Bushes brush 
 and trees were burned and charred, the rocks black- 
 ened, white ashes covering the ground. .\11 the green 
 was gone but the tops of the tall trees where the fire 
 had not reached. On the black brush hung scorched 
 
 215 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 leaves red as if yet on fire. Many trees had fallen ; big, 
 broken branches hung about, and the creek was full of 
 half burnt wood. 
 
 A large tree had fallen across the gulch, clear from 
 one steep side to the other, high above the creek- 
 bottom. 1 tried to get up to it. I climbed up to the 
 tree roots that were torn out of the ground and I got 
 through the root-work to the top of the big log and 
 walked over to the other side. The timber was quite 
 sound, only broken in two, three lengths, lying, fol- 
 lowing the shape of the hill-side. 
 
 It was slow work getting up to the top end of the 
 fallen tree . And then there was nothing to see, 
 nothing but the opposite height burnt over the same 
 as the side I was on : white ashes and charred wood 
 all round, stumps and butts, and logs, all black. 
 
 The sun was down and night was coming on again. 
 T sat in the top of the fallen tree where it lay on the 
 ground. The green of it was not all burnt. Some of it 
 was yet alive. I chewed some of it. It tasted sour- 
 ish. I could not eat it, but it drew my mouth and 
 mv insides, and then I did not feel so hungry, and I fell 
 asleep. 
 
 In the night I aw^oke shuddering. A cold wind was 
 blowing, rushing through the dead forest, rustling the 
 scorched leaves on the bushes, knocking down branches 
 and sticks from the charred trees. The moon was up 
 shining ghastly white on all the black shapes. I could 
 not help watching them till they seemed to move, to start 
 up to come toward me, as I looked fixedly at them. 
 
 When it was daylight I walked back on the fallen 
 log over the creek. Near the other side I slipped and 
 fell. I managed to catch one of the long, tough roots 
 of the tree and save myself, but I came near having a 
 bad fall. 
 
 It was foolish to walk back on the steeply-lying log. It 
 
 216 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 was foolish to go up across on the log m the first place 
 All thb climbing, looking round, loitering, were .mpruden 
 things to do. I knew it. I must not do it any more 1 
 musf pull myself together, keep moving forward along 
 
 * Thrburnt woods had come to an end. E^'^^-^'^'li"^ 
 was green again. Water was commg down a Utt e 
 Tavinftnto the creek, and I could drink every httle 
 
 while. The creek did not go dry any more. I walked 
 
 on steadily. I could go but slowly. 
 
 There were more bushes growmg nght on the banks 
 
 of the creek. I could not see the sun for them^ The 
 
 banks were different. The whole creek -s different . 
 
 Rocks and cliffs had not been m n for a long "m • 
 
 the stoneblocks had become ^'"^f ^h .ohh le had 
 there were no more of them at all. The cobble, had 
 turned to pebbles. The hill-sides no longer rose 
 straight out of the creek from the bottom up banks 
 of adobe and black loam were on each side, on which 
 the bushes grew, tall and close, leanmj; together ox er 
 ;: creek. m\ku,g a leafy shade. .And the bed o th 
 creek was of sand and silt, wule and level_, the water 
 in a shallow little stream winding its ^^ay trom s.de to 
 .ide so slowh-, it was sometimes hard to tell winch wa> 
 it ran : form'ing little islands an<l bars and beaches ot 
 mud and sand and gravel. ■,,,„, 
 
 For the bushes I could see nothing, but 1 tanced tha 
 ,t took longer for the daylight to go away, and that 
 after that it turned dusk quicker. 1 was forcing myself 
 along, following the glint of the water. Several times 
 I went amiss. Once I got into soft mud ana twice I 
 walked into the water, and when I awoke l ^vas Ivmg 
 It the edge of a little gravel-bar. my lett elbow m the 
 water, where I must have fallen down in exhaustion. 
 
 I was dreaming I was at Antonio's, milking the cow. 
 The girl, his daughter, the oldest one ot all Jmi s 
 
 217 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 wife's, the Dark Woman's children had taught me how- 
 to milk into my mouth, to drink the milk; lying 
 under the cow and stripping the teat, catching the milk 
 on the lower teeth under the lip, between the teeth 
 and the lip ; and I was in my dream trying to get 
 milk from the cow that way, but could not do it. 
 The cow was uneasy, lowing, the lowing sounding 
 curiously distant, the milk all squirting by my mouth onto 
 my left arm, wetting it. And that awakened me, and I 
 found the little water of the creek washing up to my 
 shoulder. 
 
 And just then I heard the distant lowing of a cow 
 as I had heard it in my dream, while between the 
 green on the bank of the creek came the level rays 
 of the sun shooting through in the white vapor filling 
 all the bushes. 
 
 I clambered up the bank and looking out of the 
 bush, I saw I was in a large, open flat land over which 
 the sun had just risen. Some taller, round-top trees 
 were scattered about, looking in the farther distance 
 like a close wood. Otherwise it was empty. And 
 there were no cows. 
 
 I went back into the creek and climbed out on the 
 other side. There was the same all-level land, still 
 more bare of trees. But nearby, close to the creek, a 
 little back, were low, rolling hills, swelling up in 
 knobs and knolls and wide-branching stretches, spread 
 out almost like the fingers on a hand, the level valley- 
 bottom going away in between the branching slopes 
 and ranges, and round and round all the dents and 
 spurs, exactly like the waters of our bay round the 
 land shapes there. 
 
 The hills looked every way like the hills we had come 
 to first, days ago, in the buggy on the road from the 
 steamer-landing: all sunburnt and covered with withered 
 
 218 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 grass, shrubs and low scrubby trees here and there, 
 around some out-cropping rocks. 
 
 The cow was lowing again. The sound came from 
 the hills. She must be in some hollow. I walked 
 along the green of the creek back towards the hills 
 and turned into a sort of trail along a shallow, little 
 gulch reaching uphill from the creek. Everywhere 
 were such gullies between the sloping hills, filled with 
 low brush. And everywhere such trails led around 
 and over the hills. 
 
 As I got higher up how awfully big that flat valley 
 looked ! And more level than the waters of the bay ! 
 It just vanishing without ending in the heat-haze of 
 the far, far distance ! Right under the sun, faintly 
 visible were highlands like pale shadows, fading away 
 to nothing with the valley. I could follow my creek 
 by its brush-growth out into the flat-land ahead and 
 back till the hills hid it. 
 
 It was very warm. I had drunk plenty water before 
 I left the creek, but I was faint and dizzy with hunger, 
 dragging myself along, keeping near cover. At last I saw 
 three cows down in a hollow. I was on a low summit, 
 sloping away in a depression filled with a thicket or wood. 
 On the other side of the wood the cows were standing in 
 a corral, or. rather, a fenced off field. There were more 
 fences. 
 
 When I came to the thicket, I found it much larger than 
 T had anticipated. Good-sized trees were standing there, 
 and the most part of them were to the outside, so over- 
 grown with vines hanging down to the ground like cur- 
 tains, that I had to lay me down on my belly and crawl in 
 under. 
 
 Inside it was quite dark, but as hot and dry as outside, 
 and the black ground was full of furrows which had cer- 
 tainly been made by water. And the mosquitoes were 
 very bad. I wanted to turn back. Then the cow lowed, 
 
 219 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 and that led me on again. But I could not have got 
 through the wood, it was so dense and tangled up and 
 rough, only that there was an old trail along a furrow, 
 which I could follow to the other side, where I laid me 
 down again and crept out under through the creepers and 
 vines, and right onto a dusty road- 
 
 I crawled right back behind the creepers ?nd peered 
 ^^^()Mgh the chinks of the leaves. 
 
 It was a regular wagon-road with an open two-wire 
 fence on each side. I had not noticed the wires on my 
 side in crawHng out. I was outside of them now. The 
 vines hung far over in one close mass. Opposite me 
 was the cow field. Above the cow field the road showed 
 itself winding away uphill. And as I looked, lying on 
 my hands and knees behind the broad-leaved, hanging 
 vines, there came down that road a cloud of dust and 
 the noise of a traveling team. Before I fairly saw the 
 team in the dust, I had heard noises. Before I saw the 
 dust and heard the team, I had noticed the cows turn 
 their heads. Then I recognized the horses, one white and 
 one gray, and the buggy. 
 
 Two men rode in it. One was a black-bearded, square- 
 shouldered man, talking in a high-pitched voice, and 
 laughing with something of a squeak. The other, the one 
 driving, was he, that strange man that had taken me from 
 our wharf. He wore his duster and gloves, but no gog- 
 gles nor veil. His face was turned towards me, and as the 
 wagon went by, his eyes, passing over the leafy curtain 
 of creepers that hid me, looked squarely into mine. 
 
 The dust came drifting into the bush- The noise of 
 the team ceased, came again curiously loud. The squeaky 
 laugh sounded twice, distant. 
 
 I do not think 1 believed that he had seen me. I could 
 not have been seen. But it must have felt fateful that the 
 first one to see again and meet should be that man, as if 
 it were no use to try to save myself from him. 
 
 220 
 
CHROXICLES OF MANUEL ALAKUS 
 
 I think it was in my mind that they were in pursuit of 
 me. tliat the Black had reported my escape and was fol- 
 lowing them, or coming round the other way, tracking me. 
 
 Again, not so at all, that they would not be hunt- 
 ing me in a buggy : that the Black would not tell of my get- 
 ting away from him : that this road was the road down 
 to the steamboat-landing, the main road which, these days 
 ago, we had branched ofif from where it split in two, near 
 the watering spring ; that the strange man was now on his 
 way to that steamboat-landing, going back to town with 
 his team, his companion with the high-pitched voice being 
 only just an acquaintance of his from somewhere, going 
 along, who had nothing to do with my case. 
 
 I lay and listened at the silence, till everything turned 
 indistinct and I seemed not to know any more where I 
 was, when the terrors shook me again. Too late I 
 
 A dog had come across my tracks where I had crawled 
 out into the road and back and had spotted me. A man 
 had come after the dog and dragged me out of the bush, 
 tearing the last shreds of my shirt off my body and drop- 
 ping me like some animal he had got hold of, he did not 
 know but might be dangerous to handle. I lay in the soft 
 dust of the road, half over, half sitting. The dog was 
 smelling me all over. 
 
 There were two men- One, who had pulled me out of 
 the bushes, was a youngish man with dark hair and a red 
 face ; the other, sitting on a horse and holding another by 
 the bridle, was an older man wdth gray hair and a white 
 beard. They were both dressed like laboring men in over- 
 alls and flannel shirts, with top boots and wide straw hats. 
 The first man held a gun. 
 
 He ordered back the dog and bent down, putting out a 
 big, red hand to turn me over, commencing to talk to me, 
 asking me who I was, where I came from, was I lost, or 
 had I rim away? Why I did not speak? W^as I dumb? 
 
 221 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 shouting louder at every question, repeating them over and 
 over, giving me something of a shake every time. 
 
 I did not try to speak. I did not stir, except that I 
 turned up my one hand. And he understood that. He 
 stopped his shaking and let go of me. 
 
 "I am not going to hurt you," he said, speaking not 
 roughly, *'no one is going to hurt you." 
 
 Everything then grew indistinct again. I was on a 
 horse. Somebody was holding me in front of him. It 
 was the old man. The younger man had gone away on 
 the other horse and with the gun and the dog. We were 
 going down the road, with the thicket still the boundary 
 on one side. Presently we were no longer on a road ; we 
 had gone through a small gate the old man had opened 
 and shut without getting off the horse- Now we were 
 again on a road, going up a hill rising to a round top. On 
 one side again was a thicket filling a little gulch with 
 bushes, brush and trees. A dog barked. We had come 
 to some sheds and fences. Right by the side of the deep 
 shade of some round-top trees which were standing in a 
 group together, a little above the head of the gulch, on 
 the front of the rounding hill, stood a little house of bat- 
 tened, rough, redwood boards and shingles. 
 
 Five Oaks on the hill ! 
 
 August. 
 
 Going to Mr. De Lang's this morning I met him coming 
 out of the place in his buggy. I told him all I had to say, 
 receiving for an answer nothing save his continual : 
 ''Never mind !" If I had not known him enough by this 
 time, I might have thought he was put out with me about 
 something, or did not want to hear what I had to say 
 about my business with Mr. Mauresse. And he sat in his 
 bi-igg}', looking at the horse's tail as if Avaiting for it to 
 move. 
 
 I inquired after Mrs. De Lang. 
 
 ''She is well," said he. "I had to take her out of town 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Saturday evening across the bay in the buggy to some 
 friends living near San Leandro. We stayed over night. 
 She wanted to stay longer, so I left her there- I came 
 home last night." 
 
 Another pause ensued, with more watching of the 
 horse's tail, till I began to get nervous myself about its 
 not moving, and tried to break the spell by telling him 
 that I would give the garden a wetting down, since I saw 
 he had not done it this morning, 
 
 ''I wish you would," he rejoined, "and see to it right 
 along. We better make a bargain about it. What will 
 you charge to see to it right along, come twice a week, 
 give the place a wet down, and trim up?" 
 
 I told him his wife and he had put me under such obli- 
 gations, shown me such kindness, it made me feel mean 
 to think that I in return should charge him for doing such 
 a trifle. Passing as I should have to this way almost 
 daily, I could with very little trouble and loss of time keep 
 his p]?-ce in trim, at least till the plants had taken well to 
 growing and the grass had come up. But he kept on pro- 
 nouncing his ''never mind," till I suggested that he should 
 pay me fifty cents a month. 
 
 "How are you going to live on that?" he wanted to 
 know. "That would be only about twelve cents an hour, 
 for a day of eight hours' work, less than one dollar, unless 
 you put in about four hours more for coming and going. 
 It would not be nine cents an hour that you would earn. 
 Take a fool's advice and do not put too low a valuation 
 on your work, other people will do that for you fast 
 enough. The less you ask, the less people will give, and 
 the less they will value your work and you too. Even 
 supposing you do not get some work, because people will 
 not pay your price, one job at one dollar an hour pays 
 better than three jobs at twenty-five cents; you can do 
 it better, give more satisfaction, secure more and better 
 v\^ork through it." 
 
 223 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 It took him so long to get through his speech, one might 
 think the advice worth no more than the time occupied in 
 hstening to it. But I knew it, of course, to be not only 
 well meant, but sound too, as far as not limited by indi- 
 vidual, peculiar circumstances. How did Ullard senten- 
 tiously express it? "We can take and follow the best 
 advice only as far as our own nature permits. It is no 
 use to tell the bashful man to be bold, the hypochondriac 
 to be sanguine" For me the advice has no value. 
 
 We agreed at last on a dollar a month. He paid me 
 for one month in advance and drove off. I watered the 
 garden and went to hunt up more work. I walked out 
 far beyond the park entrance, where on the slope of a hill 
 I found quite a colony of small holdings with small dwell- 
 ings, each with a little flower garden in front, many of 
 them not half trimmed or even planted, though otherwise 
 ready to be improved. The first house I went into and 
 asked for work, I was told to go right ahead and put the 
 front yard in shape. The people had but just moved in. 
 They had bought the place and were paying for it on the 
 installment plan, as it is called: so much down and so 
 much every month, till the whole is paid. Afterwards I 
 found out it is the same with mostly all the people in 
 that district, the majority of them being what might be 
 called small mechanics and clerks. It seems a very good 
 plan for people of no means but a few hundred dollars 
 of savings, to acquire a home. Only what will they do 
 if work or health fails, and they cannot keep up their 
 payments ? 
 
 At this very first place the wife was worrying over this 
 very question, although, or just because, her husband 
 took it very easy. She did not want him to engage me 
 to do the work at all. 
 
 ''Why, Mamie!" he exclaimed, cheerfully, "if the man 
 does the job, I can go back to work. And I could not do 
 it so well." 
 
 224 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 -You can do it Sunday," she returned. 
 
 -Why, Mamie!" he cried in the same cheerful tone, 
 -Sunday I shall have to do lots of other work about the 
 house. ^Did you not say you wanted the cellar whitened 
 as soon as possible ?" 
 
 "I can do that myself." . . j »„ 
 
 "Why. Mamie, who is to do the cooking and tend to 
 
 ''^"If you go on like that," she called out, half crying, 
 "what is to become of us? How are we to meet the pay- 
 ments?" And she ran into the house- 
 
 I wanted to go away, but the husband would not let 
 me go He even paid me in advance the dollar I was to 
 get for my work, told me to go to work, and went to his 
 work in some machine shop. , . , • v 
 
 It took me nearly all day to get through with my job. 
 I took special pains with it. I did not see the wife the 
 whole time. When I was finished I rang the bell to call 
 her to the front door and ask her to look at what I had 
 done and say if she wanted any alterations made or had 
 any other thing for me to do. 
 
 "Oh," she said, "it is all right, I suppose. What is the 
 use of talking? Have you not got the money? That 
 
 '^ "It would not make any difference." I replied. "I 
 should want to satisfy you all the same. And how do 
 vou know that I have got the money? You must have 
 been watching," I added, speaking jokingly to give our 
 
 talk a pleasanter turn. .„ , . , ,. 
 
 "Does he not always act like that?" she broke out, 
 "throwing away money. ^^ Yes. Robbing and letting others 
 
 rob his wife and child!" t \ u ^ 
 
 "Well " I answered, "if that is the way you feel, here 
 is the money, take it. I don't want any money from you 
 if vou feel that I was a party to robbing you. 
 
 "No!" she cried, retreating behind the door and almost 
 
 225 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 shutting it. '*Go away. If the garden is not all right we 
 can make it so, I guess. I suppose you put all the plants 
 in that you could. If we find any left over we can put 
 them in ourselves. I dare say, you did the best you 
 could with such a place in such a very short time. Go 
 away now." 
 
 1 went away, but the spitefulness of the young woman's 
 words scarcely made me more satisfied to keep the dollar. 
 What a silly act to offer her that dollar ! Suppose she 
 had taken it ? And I had surely earned it. I had worked 
 hard and done an honest job. And it must have appeared 
 to be nothing but a foolish bluff". It looks like that even 
 to myself now. Yet at the moment I wanted her to take 
 the money, and very little more of her talk would have 
 made me cast it at her feet. At the same time I was really 
 thinking of Mr. De Lang and his advice, which, in this 
 case, I judge, meant for me to tell her that she was get- 
 ting five dollars worth of work done for one dollar. 
 
 I shall never be anything of a business man, that is cer- 
 tain- I lack the right sense of money. In a way I have 
 no value for money. And I think I know the reason 
 why, too. It is because since my earliest childhood I 
 have had to work and work without ever receiving any 
 pay for it, any money-pay, nothing save my living and 
 clothing. Except to be sure, my bootblack days ! 
 
 To own it to myself, may I have worked ever so hard, I 
 nextr feel that I had earned money I receive, nor 
 its being my due. I must take it certainly, must insist 
 on getting it because I must have it to pay out for what I 
 need to live and what I cannot bear to owe anybody any- 
 thing for. But I do not take it because I regard it as the 
 equivalent of my work. Nor do I, strictly speaking, work 
 for money. I do my work for the work's sake ; to do what 
 T have to do, as well as I can. And further, also, I must 
 admit, to please not only myself, but the people I am 
 working for ; people in general, too, at the same time ! 
 
 226 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Again, I am not wasteful, rather saving, I think. And 
 all this comes to me from such of my ancestors as were 
 German. At least Ullard blamed my German blood for 
 it, w^hen we talked about such things. 
 
 I wanted to ask for work at some of the houses ad- 
 joining. But it w'as rather late and I was very hungry. 
 1 called it a day and went downtown to the Italian eating 
 house where I took dinner last Saturday. They sell meal 
 tickets there, seven for a dollar, or eight for a dollar, if 
 three dollars' worth are taken. I bought three dollars' 
 worth- 
 
 1 had no visit from Mr. or Mrs. Carpenter to-night. I 
 suppose I ought to call on them now. Perhaps they are a 
 little offended at my refusal to go with them yesterday. 
 But I think they merely are tired to-night. I think they 
 are already gone to bed. Everything is quiet in the house. 
 
 All day to-day, at least all the time 1 was by myself. 
 Five Oaks was not out of my head, since my v/riting yes- 
 terday carried me there. 
 
 When I think of it, it does appear odd how in my 
 recollections of that time after the first few days a sort 
 of haziness seems to overlie the first part of my life at 
 Five Oaks ; very much the same, I believe, as the first 
 }'ears of our childhood appear to us on looking- back, 
 where things happen or cease to happen, where peoi)lc. 
 animals, all things are now there and now no more, all 
 without beginning or ending", connection and reas(>n. 
 
 I had not been, I reckon, three months on the farm 
 when I remember to have at times felt as if I had 
 always lived there, always had had ni}" lessons with 
 (^Id France, always gone to the field and worked with 
 Young Hants. Both men at such times would be to 
 me not at all those men that had found me in the bush, 
 but different beings altogether, which I had difficulty 
 in finding a commencement of in my memory, as the 
 dogs, too. the other animals, the trees and hills difl'er- 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ent, the very air not the same, everything, all my new 
 world emerging with me out of what was like the dis- 
 tant dimness beyond our life's first recollections. Ex- 
 cept that underlying all this there was in me always 
 present the consciousness of my fated state : that that 
 strange man, or some one sent by him was looking for 
 me and sure to sometime locate me. Feeling, I fancy, 
 like some hunted animal. 
 
 The first few days, however, at Five Oaks stand 
 apart in my memory, clear and distinct as if they be- 
 longed to the days gone before and not to the new life 
 beginning. To be sure some special happenings mark 
 those days apart from the later ones. Or rather, being 
 the first days of a new life, nearly all their happenings 
 and experiences must have seemed special ones. And 
 the violence of my homesick grief and despair, together 
 with the terrors of my dreams, both of which now for 
 the first time made themselves fully felt, must certainl;,' 
 have given them a peculiar coloring. 
 
 I was wide awake enough the moment I saw the little 
 house and knew that I was at some place where people 
 lived. A dog came up to us, a fine, large shepherd dog 
 that was very glad to see us, and friendly disposed to 
 me, if in a somewhat surprised way. I saw no people. 
 Beyond the house was a corral with some horses; but 
 no gray horse and no white horse! Adjoining this 
 were some more corrals. Some other animals were mov- 
 ing about, pigs and ducks and chickens. Some open sheds, 
 I noticed, one for wood and another for what looked 
 like a little blacksmith-shop with anvil and small 
 bellows. Near it stood a farm wagon and a cart. But 
 no men were to be seen anywhere and no buggy. 
 
 Past the house, near the first corral was a trough. 
 The old man rode up to it, let me down by the hand 
 from the horse to the ground and told me to get into 
 the trough and wash myself. He had spoken to me 
 
 228 
 
CHRONICLES Of MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 before and every time I had thought I soniehow under- 
 stood some of his talk, or that I ought to understand it ; 
 that I knew some of the words he spoke. And yet I 
 could not follow him. 
 
 This time his meaning was plain enough. Still I 
 waited a little and stood holding myself up by the top 
 of the trough, and looking him very hard in the face, 
 if I could not make him comprehend how very hungry 
 I was and how much I wished he would give me a little 
 something to eat, if he had it. But I saw it was no 
 use. I must clean myself first. And I took oil my 
 boots and my overalls and climbed into the trough. It 
 was dug out of a log, about half the length, the 
 ends being left solid, a little flattened on top to put 
 things on. A tin wash-basin was lying there upside 
 down and a tin mug with a piece of white soap, a 
 yellow horn comb drawn quite out of shape by the 
 sun, and a piece of thick glass wdiich was the half of an 
 old, small, half blind mirror fastened alongside a roller- 
 towel to the side of the house, close by. 
 
 The trough looked like a tray for washing. A division- 
 board was in it, too, which had been taken out. Other, 
 similar troughs were in the corrals, and yet another larger 
 trough stood by itself farther up the hill. A gutter or 
 small flume fed water to all these troughs from a heap of 
 rocks, above where the trees stood, and where there was 
 a live spring. And at each trough was a spout with a 
 sort of gate to shut off the water and turn it on, the flume 
 leading to other places besides and to behind the house, 
 where there was a garden. 
 
 The trough was half full of water, and it was quite 
 warm from the sun. When I laid me down in it, it felt 
 wonderfully good- It seemed to ease me all through and 
 make me wish I could just lie still and go to sleep. But 
 it was not long before the old man came back from put- 
 ting his horse in the corral, and he turned the gutter-gate 
 
 229 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 and let the cold water rush on me, making me nearly lose 
 my breath. Then he handed me the soap and I fell to 
 soaping and washing myself while he walked away into 
 the house. 
 
 The water was very clear. I drank from the spout a 
 good deal for my hunger. I also cleaned out the trough 
 while I was in it. In the corners was a good deal of soap 
 scinn, which I scraped off with the piece of glass. A hole 
 and plug, just like those in a boat, were at the lower 
 end in the bottom of the trough over a wooden drain going 
 toward the rear. I drew the plug and let all the scum 
 run out with the dirty water and rinsed it all out well. 
 After that I came to think that I had had no business to 
 do this unbidden and waste so much fresh water. And I 
 was glad the trough was half full of water again by the 
 time the old man came back. He did not say anything. 
 He did not seem to notice what I had done. 
 
 Tie brought me half of a clean-washed flour sack for a 
 towel, but I already was dry sitting in the sun on the 
 wash tray. He also had a shirt for me, not of flannel, but 
 some other soft, white stuff looking as though it had been 
 very much worn a very long time ago, patched and mended 
 and patched again and washed a good many times. It was 
 not of a man's size, yet very much too large for me, going 
 half way to my ankles- He had a piece of hay rope, which 
 he tied the garment with round my waist, bringing the 
 shirt tails up to the knees. Then he turned up the sleeves, 
 tied the tape ends of the neck band below my chin, and 
 showed great satisfaction in seeing me thus rigged out. 
 
 He went back into the house and returned with a tin 
 dish with some fried oatmeal mush and some pieces of 
 cornbread, a large ship biscuit, what sailors call hard 
 tack, a slice of raw bacon and a tin cup full of milk. 
 
 T could hardly keep my hands back till he held the 
 things out to me. And when he had given them to me, he 
 would not let me eat undisturbed. Every little while he 
 
 230 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 took the dish away from me and I had to stop eating some 
 seconds before I got it back. And the milk I must not 
 drink, but eat with a Httle spoon. But I had drunk water 
 he fore. 
 
 The house had at one end, nearest the wash tray, an 
 open space. By the looks of it the house was to have had 
 a room there, but it had not been finished. 
 
 The roof went over the space and the floor, the back 
 and front walls extended as far, only the outside end 
 was open. A great many things stood there put out of 
 the way and in shelter. Against the rear wall was stand- 
 ing a rough carpenter's bench. On it the old man had 
 spread a doubled-up cotton quilt. He carried me over 
 there and laid me down on the quilt, stuck a piece of wood 
 under one end of it for a pillow, and turned the other end 
 over my feet and legs. I had been cleaned and fed and 
 now I was to sleep- 
 
 I was willing enough that the old man should have his 
 way, because he certainly was boss as far as I was con- 
 cerned, and he had been good to me and I expected to get 
 something more to eat from him, by and by. And I was 
 sleepy, too, but I was in a way unwilling to go to sleep 
 and uneasy, as if something was about to happen, which 
 I must keep awake to be ready to encounter. And while 
 dropping off, overcome by drowsiness, I know, I yet 
 strove against it and to the last tried to fix my mind on 
 where I was and that I was safe, while already the drug 
 was beginning its work again, and already its furies were 
 
 upon me. 
 
 It commenced the very same way as the first time. I 
 was seized with a horrible dizziness, as though I was being 
 flung into empty space. Things like sparks were striking 
 my eyes, fiery shapes came jutting towards me, and back 
 and forward again, nearer and nearer, hideous shapes, 
 close upon me, winding themselves round my throat, chok- 
 ing me, strangling me, to force me to open mv mouth to 
 
 231 
 
CHKOXICLES Of MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 let them crawl into my head, till all was one sheet of 
 liame. 
 
 And now, curiously, I knew something was going to 
 show itself on the sheet of flame, something to add to the 
 terror, and though in deadly dread of it, I was anxious 
 to know what, when the fiery sheet was torn apart, and 
 I saw the canyon I had come down. I did not see myself, 
 but I was there. It was at the point where the canyon 
 had narrowed to a rocky gorge, the walls overhanging, a 
 ledge extending across from side to side like a dam. 
 Somewhere opposite I was standing, not down below in 
 the bed of the creek, but up higher, facing the dam, look- 
 ing at the gorge. I don't know that I had looked at it 
 that way at all, but I must, or how else could I have been 
 able to see it in my dream as I did. And so plain and 
 clear, every cleft and crack and seam distinct, every block 
 and crag, even the peaks above the canyon walls, which 
 I had not been able to see from the bottom of the gorge 
 at all. 
 
 Something was moving. A round, black thing was 
 coming up over the dam, making my blood feel like ice. 
 It was the head of the Black ! 
 
 He was looking round. His eyes shone and his large, 
 yellow teeth. The scars on his cheek stood out as gleam- 
 ing streaks. He did not see me yet and in a sort of pri- 
 mary consciousness I was telling myself in my sleep that 
 he could not see me, that I was not there at all. He 
 hauled himself along by the edge of the dam the way I 
 had done. A Manzanita bush was growing right out of 
 the rocks on the ledge. He stopped at it, looking, bending 
 down to something on the lowest twig, picking it off, 
 holding it between his fingers so that I could see it. 
 
 It was a tatter of my shirt, a little shred no bigger than 
 a joint of my little finger, torn out and held fast by the 
 little shrub. And I knew not that such a thing had hap- 
 pened, nor that I remembered it, nor that ever before this 
 
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CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 time 1 thought that such a thing might have occurred. 
 Still perhaps it had- 
 
 He climbed over the dam and down like I had done. 
 He was turning to me, when everything vanished and I 
 came out of my senselessness, the old man .^landing by 
 my sleeping place, calling and shaking me, speaking to me. 
 
 And now I knew, I understood: it was Spanish he 
 was speaking to me, had been speaking to me before. He 
 spoke it with a false accent so that it did not sound like 
 Spanish. But since I now knew it was Spanish, I could 
 make him out very well. He was telling me he had some- 
 thing more for me to eat, but he was afraid I had al- 
 ready eaten too much. I had had a fit and should have 
 fallen off the bench if he had not come to hold me. He 
 had an enameled soup plate full of fresh-made oatmeal 
 mush with sugar and milk and after some hesitation gave 
 it to me on condition that I should eat it very slowly, and 
 he stood by to see me do it. 
 
 I did not speak at all, nor show that I understood more 
 than what I might guess. I saw the old man go to work 
 washing some clothes at the wash tray. I pretended to be 
 asleep. V'ery soon I did sleep. When I awoke I judged 
 by the sun that it was late in the afternoon. My overalls, 
 dripping wet, were hanging on a wash line with some more 
 clothes. My boots stood at my sleeping place. I put 
 them on and ventured forth. 
 
 When I cautiously looked in at the open door of the 
 little house, I saw the old man busy at the cook stove, 
 cooking, and I noticed that a box for firewood standing 
 near the stove was all but empty. So I went to where 
 a lot of split-up firewood was lying round a chopping 
 block, and picked up an armful and carried it to the door. 
 I was not sure about being permitted to go in, but the old 
 man, hearing my step, turned his head, and, seeing me, 
 told me to put the wood in the box. I brought another 
 armful and yet another to fill the box. And then, looking 
 
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CHRONICLES OF MJXUEL ALANUS 
 
 around, I saw that the water pail on a low shelf in the 
 corner had but little water left in it. I took it, cleaned it, 
 and brought it back full from the spout. After that 1 
 thought I would split some more wood with the nice, new, 
 sharp hatchet on the block. But I did not know but what 
 J might be overdoing the thing, and rather went back to 
 the door, to be there if I should be wanted for something, 
 or anyhow to be ready at the place when the eating was 
 to be done. 
 
 Very nice it looked inside of the little house. It was 
 all one room, with a close-board ceiling; and all whitened. 
 It was quite wide, but more shallow from front to rear. 
 The door was in the middle of the front, with a window 
 each side of the door and with two windows in the rear 
 wall, opposite the front windows. At the left hand end, 
 across from front to rear, were two sleeping bunks, end 
 to end, as aboard ship, with a centre partition and w^ith 
 calico curtains. At the right hand end stood the cooking 
 stove in a recess formed by a pan closet at one corner and 
 a store room at the other. Some shelves were there with 
 kitchenware, and a wardrobe and some rawhide-bottom 
 chairs. Two small chests of drawers were placed back to 
 back at the centre division of the bunks. At the windows 
 were hung little calico curtains like to the bunks, and 
 under the one rear window farthest from the stove stood a 
 table covered with white marbled oilcloth. Everything 
 looked clean and orderly, and, what most made it look 
 pretty and bright, was that outside of all the clean-polished 
 windows were shelves, immediately below the window 
 sills, with wooden earth-boxes, in which grew flowers and 
 green plants- 
 
 The old man was overhauling a box filled with books, 
 \\hich he had pulled out from under one of the bunks. 
 He called me in when I again appeared at the door. He 
 held a slate and an open book in his hand, pointing at 
 something on the leaves, uttering some sounds. I made 
 
 234 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 as stupid a face as I could. He became more insisting. 
 I wished for something to boil over so as to make him 
 turn to his cooking. But presently I forgot everything for 
 a noise I heard outside. 
 
 I saw through the window it was the old man's com- 
 panion of the morning, the younger man, come home with 
 his horse and dog and gun and a string of dead birds. 
 No one was with him. But I had started to break away 
 for the open door at the first sound. I was trembling all 
 over. I was glad now though to see him. Hants the old 
 man called him. And he called the old man France. He 
 laughed at my rig when he came to look at me, after he 
 had unsaddled his horse. 
 
 He motioned for me to take his horse to the corral, 
 pointing to it- Old France pointed to it, too, and repeated 
 the word horse, in Spanish, and the dog went with me as 
 if to show me the way, or perhaps to keep an eye on me, 
 not approving altogether of my appearance. He was not 
 as easy of approach as the shepherd dog, but not bad na- 
 tured, only reserved. The four horses in the corral all 
 came to take a look at me, and they all let me pet them a 
 little, holding down their necks to let me pat them. One 
 was a pony. 
 
 Coming back from the corral I found Hants picking 
 and cleaning the birds, and as I always had to clean and 
 pick the birds for Nick and Nello when they had chickens 
 or ducks or sometimes wild fowls for their meals, I started 
 in now to help him do that. He watched me silently till 
 he had satisfied himself that T knew what I was doing 
 and did this work perhaps quicker and neater than he, 
 when he took the few birds he had cleaned into the house, 
 leaving me to finish the rest. 
 
 Before I was quite through with the birds, three cows 
 suddenly appeared on the other side of the fence leading 
 to another corral, halting, gazing, staring at me as if 
 dumbfounded with astonishment at my presence. They 
 
 235 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 were the cows I had seen in the morning in the hollow 
 near the thicket, and they had come up from there. 
 
 And now there was a great deal of work to be done. 
 Hants was busy everywhere. The cows had to be milked 
 and fed. The horses also had to be fed, and the chickens 
 and other fowl and the pigs. Two or three dozen pigs 
 were coming from somewhere below by a separate, 
 fenced-off way to a separate corral and were clamoring 
 at the corral-gate. When Hants had put their food in 
 the trough and opened the gate for them, they came in 
 in such a rush, I thought I had never heard the like. 
 
 Hants was not a bit backward in putting me to work 
 to help him, and I kept pretty close at his heels all the 
 time, that being certainly the safest place for me at pres- 
 ent in this new, unknown world I had come iiito. And I 
 liked being so employed. The more jobs Hants gave me, 
 the better I liked it 
 
 The birds all cleaned and dressed I had brought to 
 France. I went back to Hants where he was milking one 
 of the cows, and he showed me where to get some feed 
 and give it to the chickens, to throw it round, scattering 
 it in their separate yard and to close the gate. Some of 
 them had already gone to roost in the hen house adjoin- 
 ing their yard. They all came out again and z couple of 
 roosters made a great fuss over their hens feeding ; some 
 were outside the yard and would not go in, and I had to 
 chase them in before I could close the gate. Afterwards 
 when they had all gone to roost I should have to go and 
 shut the door of the hen house, said Hants. 
 
 He spoke to me all the time now. He saw that I under- 
 stood him, though I did not speak myself. Could I milk ? 
 he asked. It was so very long since I had done any milk- 
 ing and I had been so very little then, if I had not that 
 morning dreamed and thought about Antonio's cow, I 
 should not have known that I ever knew anything about 
 milking. So I did not stir. Then he bade me try, and 
 
 236 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 as soon as I went to sitting on my feet under the second 
 cow with a tin pail between my knees and commenced, I 
 found I could milk as well as anybody. But first I had 
 had to wash my hands and also the cow's udder, as 
 Hants had done. The third cow had gone dry, but she 
 would soon calve. 
 
 The milk had to be strained ; some little was put aside 
 for house use ; the rest was put in a machine which I had 
 to turn, when the cream ran out of a spout into a can 
 and the skim milk out of another spout into another can. 
 This I had to carry off and pour into the feeding trough 
 for the little, young pigs, while Hants turned to and 
 washed all the tin milk things in boiling water. After 
 that the horses and cows had to be given hay. The horses 
 I had to water- The cows had a small watering trough 
 in their corral. They got some salt on a board to lick, 
 which seemed a very strange thing to me. 
 
 Now Hants washed himself again at the wash tray, 
 soaping his neck and face and arms, wetting all the roller 
 towel in drying himself, combing his hair with the old, 
 bent, horn comb before the piece of blind mirror, where 
 he could hardly see anything more. And I washed my- 
 self the same way and followed him, quite damp, to the 
 door, where I stopped short outside. 
 
 It was turning dark. The stars were beginning to twin- 
 kle. The soft little breeze that had been blowing all day 
 had died out with sundown. The animals had quieted 
 down with their feeding. Night was coming on. 
 
 The little house room looked so homelike; I can feel 
 it at this moment as I felt it then. A lighted lamp with 
 whitish globe and red and green shade stood on the table, 
 which was set with the steaming dishes for the supper. 
 From the stove came the hissing and puffing of the tea 
 kettle. France was taking the last supper dish out of the 
 stove oven. Hants was already sitting at the table, knife 
 and fork in hand, saying something like ''having thought 
 
 237 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 tliere would be no supper at all that night," jokingly, and 
 then turning round and seeing that I had not followed 
 him into the house, called me, motioning, telling me to 
 come in, drawing a chair for me up to the table, even 
 fetching a coat out of his bunk, a sort of sailor's monkey 
 jacket, to put rolled up and folded on my chair for me to 
 sit on, to have a better reach of the table top, and then 
 helping me after himself, not once but again and yet more, 
 most liberally, which things altogether made me feel 
 ashamed or strange, not being used to such attentions. I 
 wanted very much to thank him, but could not get to it, 
 not just being able to make up my mind, should I speak 
 or not, as I was not sure of the consequences. Though 
 principally I could not speak because of his kindness. So 
 I only bobbed my head. 
 
 "That is all right," he said ; "you are welcome- Eat 
 away. I expect you must be hungry." And after a short 
 pause he added: "You earned it." 
 
 I was hungry. More than I had thought and known. 
 And the things tasted so good. France had cut up the 
 birds and stewed them with a thin gravy and tMiions and 
 other things. Nick never could make such a stew, nor 
 Nello. With the stew we had cornmeal mush. That 
 was well known to me. I had eaten that my whole life 
 long: as far as I could think back. But it never had tasted 
 so good as this time with this stew. Besides, we had 
 balced potatoes and bread and sweet butter and a pudding. 
 And I was g'ven a cup of fresh milk with a little water, 
 while the two men drank tea with milk. 
 
 And did not Hants seem to enjoy seeing nie make a 
 hearty meal. He watched me all the time, half smiling, 
 encouraging me to eat more, telling me I had not eaten 
 anything as yet- He was a great eater himself, and T 
 could not help noticing that, liberal as he was, he always 
 helped liimself first and to the best pieces. 
 
 France. T remember, had a good deal to sav. And he 
 
 238 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 showed nie liovv to sit at table, how to hold my arms, how 
 to properly use my knife and fork. I was very careful 
 and ate very slowly. Sometimes I thought all these in- 
 structions were intended less for me than for Hants, who 
 was very careless of his eating. I reckoned he took it 
 that way himself. He was quietly chuckling to himself. 
 
 After the meal came the dishwashing, and I could see 
 it took Hants bv surprise that I was so ready to go right 
 I - A,>rk at tlu.t and knew all about it. I could almost 
 fancy I understood him telling France that I must have 
 been accustomed to such housework ; although they spoke 
 a language I did not know. France seemed not to have 
 observed anything remarkable. 
 
 But, after all, a good deal relative to this work was un- 
 familiar to me, and for quite a time it remained very 
 strange that I could not throw things overboard as I had 
 been used to doing on the wharf. There it had been no 
 trick at all to keep things clean and in good order. Every- 
 thing not wanted, all dirt, all waste and rubbish, simply 
 was hove overboard. Here everything had to be taken 
 care of. This day I had already got an inkling of it. 
 Nothing went to waste, not even potato peelings. The 
 most of the things left over from the meals, not good to 
 be served up again, went to the pigs and were kept out- 
 side the house in close covered buckets of galvanized iron, 
 which were at feeding time carried to their corral and 
 emptied into their trough- The dogs were fed separately. 
 I had to do that. 
 
 It felt strange, too, that the fresh water was used so 
 lavishly ; wasteful, it seemed. And the wood. As though 
 it cost no trouble and hard work to get firewood. 
 
 Hants took no part in the cleaning up after supper. He 
 sat in front of his bunk, looking on, smoking his pipe, and 
 occasionallv disputing, or what sounded like disputing, 
 with the old man, who had a great deal more to say now. 
 I felt sure they were speaking about me. France was 
 
 239 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 also talking about the books in the box I had seen before, 
 1 could guess, because he pulled that box from under his 
 bunk, where he had pushed it when Hants came home. 
 More I could not make out. Nor did I pay much atten- 
 tion. I seemed dull now in my head, since I was no more 
 hungry. And I did not know what I was thinking. Only 
 that there appeared to be something in me trying to make 
 me feel bad, miserable in my mind. 
 
 Shortly, after some speech, as though to close some ar- 
 gument, Hants got up, lit a lantern, and took me to my 
 sleeping place, which he fixed up a little more with a 
 rolled-up small quilt for my head-rest and a clean, unused 
 blanket to cover me. He lingered quite a bit, wanting to 
 talk to me, I thought, or waiting for me to speak. Then 
 he left me, taking my overalls from the line and into the 
 house "to hang behind the stove to dry," he gave out. 
 
 I lay quite still The night was mild and quiet. After 
 a while I put back the blanket. It was too warm. I could 
 not sleep. I saw the shine of the light square of one of 
 the windows on the trunk of one of the trees and on the 
 ground. I heard incessantly the murmuring of the voices 
 of the two men talking in the house. It made me feel 
 lonely. I could not tell what it was, but something was 
 making me feel unhappy. And a pain was in my breast. 
 I dozed. When I was awake again there was no more 
 light in the house and no more murmuring. And now it 
 made me feel twice as lonely that there was not. And 
 that pain in my breast was like a cramp. I could not lie 
 still. I got up. 
 
 As soon as I moved, the dogs came to me. After 
 smelling my legs they curled themselves up again near me. 
 
 How awful still it was. Dead still and dark. Not a 
 sound to be heard ; not a light to be seen on aH the black 
 earth all round! But the stars shaking and trembling 
 and shooting long, stinging rays into my eyes ! 
 
 I v/as sitting on the step of the house door. A little 
 
 240 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 change had come in the light of the stars, a brightening 
 in one place, low down over the hills. Only a misshapen 
 half moon, but, oh! the moon of my old wharf. 
 
 Oh, my old wharf ! My old wharf ! 
 
 I felt such anguish in my breast, I did not know what to 
 do. It was like being bound with iron. Sobs came, I 
 could not hold them down. I was afraid they would waken 
 the men in the house, and so I got up and came away and 
 lay on the ground by the corrals, clutching the hard earth 
 with my outstretched hands, pressing my heart to it to 
 ease my pain. 
 
 The shepherd dog came and stood with his head over 
 me and sat down in pity to touch me, upright with his 
 head held back, to show me how to do and keep a stout 
 heart. He did not know, no one knew, no one could think 
 how I loved all I had been taken away from. 
 
 The night sped on. The moon hung high above the 
 treetops. A cool air came, without stirring the leaves. 
 The roosters crowed. It was not quite so dark. The 
 horses moved. The roosters crowed again. A paleness 
 had come into the sky- A field bird gave a call. The day 
 broke. 
 
 I went to wash my face. I wondered could I let the 
 chickens out. They wanted badly to get out, I fancied, 
 but I did not know if I should be doing right to open their 
 door. It had become quite light. Nobody stirred in the 
 house. The animals were all awake and moving. The 
 pigs were grunting impatiently. The horses and cows 
 were feeding. One cow I had noticed the night before to 
 be most gentle. She was the one I had milked. She was 
 white with large, black continents and islands of all kinds 
 of shapes all over her. And she looked at me as if she 
 wondered why I did not milk her. So I thought I would 
 milk her and fetched the tin pails from their rack near 
 the house door, without making any noise, and milked 
 both her and the other cow. But when I was carrying 
 
 241 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 the pails with the milk to the little box of a house where 
 tlie milk machine was standing, I saw the three cows 
 marchiag off. The gate of their corral to the outside was 
 open, as it had been all night, and they were going off in 
 their field as they had come the last night, by themselves. 
 I did not know but that I had done a very foolish thing, 
 not to shut that gate- And I put down the milk and ran 
 and climbed the yard fence to intercept the cows and turn 
 them back, when at that moment Hants stepped out of the 
 house door and taking in the whole situation at a glance, 
 called me back, saying something to the effect "that the 
 cows knew what they were doing, that now after being 
 milked, they should go down to their pasture at the bot- 
 tom lands." Also "that as a rule I must never run after 
 cattle or I might get hooked and gored ; that I must take a 
 horse to go after them, or send the shepherd dog." 
 
 After that he said, in a somewhat curious way, "I 
 seemed to have been crowding things a little," and looking 
 strangely at me, pointed at a willow switch lying at my 
 feet and motioned for me to bring it to him. He did not 
 appear angry, yet it almost looked as if I was going to be 
 punished for doing things unbidden. It did not look alto- 
 gether reasonable, and I did not really believe it. But 
 if he was, what could I do? So I picked up the stick 
 and handed it to him, when with a great laugh he snapped 
 it in two and threw it away, crying "he knew I was not 
 afraid of him." France had wanted to make him believe 
 I was afraid of him and had told him how I bad jumped 
 and tried to run away when he came home the evening 
 before. But he knew damned well I was not afraid of 
 him. For what should I be afraid of him for? And had 
 he not told me that he would not hurt me ? Only the old 
 man never knew what he saw, and then he always wanted 
 to make remarks. 
 
 All the work was again to be done now, the same as last 
 evening. Almost all. The hogs were not specially fed 
 
 242 
 
CI-IROXICLIIS 01- M.iNUhL AL.LXUS 
 
 in the morning any more than the cows. They had to go 
 right down to their pasture at the bottom lands. They 
 were only fed in the evening when they came home. That 
 is what made them come home by themselves. But the 
 horses were fed and watered and cleaned. And the chick- 
 ens were given some feed in the morning. Hants let them 
 out the first thing. 
 
 Behind the house was the garden, slopmg gently down 
 the hill planted with many different vegetables. A large 
 potato patch was in the next field. The water flume car- 
 ried through across the garden at the highest level, a little 
 below the house, had outlets with water gates towards the 
 vegetable beds. Finally the surplus water found its way 
 to the head of the little gulch and on down for further 
 use below, all this being very well arranged, as I could 
 understand, the whole credit for which I gave to Hants. 
 Below the garden was an orchard and below that again, 
 facing the south and west, a vineyard. 
 
 Hants took me everywhere. It was Uke being intro- 
 <luced and made acquainted. Only I could not respond so 
 well. My heart was too heavy with its misery and sor- 
 row. I don't know how I kept from showing it. Prob- 
 ably I did not altogether. Hants often looked at me as if 
 he thought something must be wrong with me. And if I 
 felt how humanely I was being treated, it only made it 
 worse. When France called us to breakfast I stopped 
 outside the door again, wishing they would let me stay 
 there, that I might go hiding somewhere and give myself 
 up to' my homesick grief. But I was told to come in, first 
 by Hants in English and then by France in Spanish. 
 
 However, they were both very easy with me, as if they 
 really knew what was best for me- For I am sure at the 
 least inquiry of sympathy or the merest show of kindly 
 interest, I should have broken down immediately and 
 entirely. But the equanimity of the one and the lack 
 of discernment of the other, gave them both an indiffer- 
 
 243 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ence of manner, which was, without any real unkindness 
 on their part to add to my unhappiness, precisely the right 
 conduct toward me, leaving me at least openly in main- 
 tenance of my self-control and manliness before them, 
 however much I might in secret have to seek relief in giv- 
 ing way to tears of agony. 
 
 But, then, the good breakfast did not fail in its influ- 
 ence. 
 
 I was very careful to use my spoon and knife and fork 
 the way 1 had been told to. Hants started in, slightly to 
 mimic me. He was very quick in noticing things and dis- 
 posed to make fun. France was different altogether, not 
 quick in seeing what was a little hidden, and slower yet 
 in replying to it, of which the other constantly took ad- 
 vantage in a way that seemed a little mean and made me 
 feel uncomfortable. And I guessed Hants was a little 
 mean as well as selfish., all the time looking out for him- 
 self. But he was perfectly open about it all, outspoken- 
 like, while the old man was not good-natured in taking 
 an,ything said or done, easily offended, and letting the of- 
 fence rankle, but then making what Hants called remarks. 
 
 A sort of division of labor was existent between them, 
 France's part was to do the housework, milking, cream- 
 ing, garden and such other work, while all the other work 
 in the field and wdiat ranged with it was to be done 
 by Hants. But I could well imagine from the start that 
 this division could never have been kept wath any kind of 
 strictness, nor intended to be strictly kept, and that, espe- 
 cially Hants, had always to do many things that should 
 belong to France to do. 
 
 This morning they both had work at which each wanted 
 my assistance. I judge it w^as partly that I was some- 
 thing new what created this want ; but Hants carried the 
 day, as he always did if he really wanted to. He was 
 going down to the Bottom, as they called it, where they 
 had a hop yard that had to be cleaned and trimmed. He 
 
 244 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 had a plow and horse ready. My overalls were not quite 
 dry, and he would not let me wear them, but we took them 
 along, as they surely would be all dry after another hour's 
 sunshine. A big old straw hat, cut and laced in with twine 
 to somewhat fit me, was given me to put on my head- 
 
 The Bottom was an unevenly flattened-out, winding 
 valley with numerous bays, turning in and out at the foot 
 of the hills till there seemed to be no end to it. Part of it 
 looked very much like the depression I had come down 
 into the morning before. There were no cows now, and 
 I tried to think it was another place. But I saw a wind- 
 ing road among the hills, the sight of which suddenly 
 brought my evil enemy, that strange man, to my mind. 
 And it acted for a little while against my homesick feeling, 
 as the agony of my grief had dulled my sense of danger. 
 
 At the hop yard Hants threw my overalls on the near 
 fence and bade me follow him as he ran the plow between 
 the rows of hop plants, which he called hills, and pull out 
 all the weeds the plow had loosened. He cautioned me to 
 look out that the loose-swinging vines did not .cratch me 
 as they were quite rough with barbs or dingers, which 
 would cut right through the skin. Afterwards I was to 
 trim the plants, cutting off all trailers and arms and lower 
 leaves. 
 
 He was a great worker. And he was very strong. 
 Everything had to give way before him. It was no easy 
 job to keep up with him. The perspiration ran in little 
 rivers down his red face and throat and the red triangle 
 of his breast where his shirt was open. He seemed to like 
 working like that. He was jolly at it, joking, calling to 
 me to look out, and praising me, saying. "I was a worker" ; 
 in order, I reckon, to make me work harder. I was 
 sweating like him. 
 
 At noon, while the horse ate its hay, we had our lunch, 
 which we had brought with us. sitting in the shade of a big 
 
 245 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 sycamore tree behind the hop house, a rough shed used 
 for drying and pressing the hops after they were picked- 
 
 Since the time Hants had come home the night before, 
 whenever we had been near each other, he had been 
 watching me a good deal and often abruptly asking me 
 questions. I knew very well it was to make me speak. 
 But I had never spoken yet, although I had been very 
 close to it very often. At first I had been speechless, or 
 nearly so from exhaustion as well as terror. Afterwards, 
 T presume, I kept silent from caution. And even now, 
 though I could not but be certain that neither of the two 
 men would ever intentionally harm me, I could not feel 
 altogether secure to speak and thus come to tell about 
 myself, which would be the natural consequence of speak- 
 ing. At the same time, however, I almost wished for a 
 good chance to break my silence, as I began to feel foolish 
 about it, mean and silly, as if I wanted to make out I could 
 not speak a word. 
 
 Hants had told me to put on my overalls that were now 
 all hot dry, to protect my bare legs from the hop vines, 
 and he was helping me to fix my shirt in back, when he 
 saw some of my bruises and cuts that were healing, but 
 not all healed up yet. Looking farther he saw more. I 
 tried to get away from him as soon as I found out what 
 he was about, but he held me fast, pushed my shirt down 
 from my neck and examined my body. Then he turned 
 me round and looked me full in the face. 
 
 "Holy Jesus," he said, "what have you been doing?" 
 
 I felt terribly guilty. I had not a word to say. 
 
 "Christ Almighty ! But somebody has been giving you 
 hell ! What have you been doing ?" he went on. "Why, 
 they must have been whipping you with barbed wire. Has 
 somebody been wanting to kill you ?" 
 
 "And did the old man not see this?" he cried. "I 
 asked him if there were any marks on you- But he does 
 
 246 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 not see anything. Coiiie here now I Wait till I tell you ! 
 1 want to talk to you." 
 
 He then told me he could see very well that I did not 
 want to speak. Perhaps I had done something very bad 
 and was afraid to give myself away. Maybe somebody I 
 had got away from was chasing me. Well, I need not 
 speak if I did not want to. He would ask no more ques- 
 tions. He did not want to know anything at all about me. 
 After all, I was only some half-breed kid and of not much 
 account, and some day, he was sure, I would be running 
 away from them again. But somehow he had taken a 
 sort of liking to me, and he thought I should be worth my 
 keep anyhow. And now, if I had been abused, as anybody 
 could plainly tell I had, and had been driven away, or had 
 run away from somebody and somewhere and did not 
 know where to go or what to do, and wanted to stay here 
 on the farm with them, they would take me for my keep. 
 But I should have to mind. And he thought he could tell 
 that I would do what I was told to do. And I should 
 have to work. Word hard, too, though not harder than 
 what was right and reason. And that I was used to work 
 my hands plainly showed and my actions plainer yet. I 
 should be decently treated and not abused in any way- He 
 would promise me that and see to it. He had been badly 
 abused himself when he had been a boy, and he knew 
 what it was. And he would promise me and give me his 
 hand on it, that as long as I w^as with him and he with 
 me, nobody should do anything to me, nobody should hurt 
 me. Now, if this was all right, he wanted me to say so, 
 speak just one word ; say **all right." 
 
 I did not say "all right." I took his hand, which he held 
 out to me and said, *'Yes." And as I said it, he broke into 
 loud laughter, crying: "I knew I could make you speak. I 
 knew I should catch you," and I really did not know but 
 what I had been taken in. 
 
 While he had been speaking a feeling of relief had come 
 
 247 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 to me and of hope for, I liardly knew what, piercing even 
 my homesick grieving and fiUing me with such sweet 
 gratitude in my heart, it had almost brought me to tears 
 and made me think of him as of one who cared a Uttle for 
 me and would help me, whom I could trust and give ni}-- 
 self up to. Although at the same time it was more than 
 puzzling, looking a little suspicious in fact, how he could 
 tell so much about me, almost as if he knew my case. He 
 liad now made me very doubtful if he meant anything 
 he had said. Everything was very little better than it 
 had been. My silence had been broken, but I could hardly 
 trust myself to speak. All the afternoon I kept away 
 from him all I could. I had to fight very hard for self- 
 control. And it seemed an awfully long time till at last 
 onr day's work was done, and it was time to go home. 
 
 A change there was then, some other feelings came, 
 thoughts of the place on the hill. To think of the cheerful 
 room in the little house, of the evening meal, of all the ani- 
 mals. And when we arrived at the farm yard, how every- 
 tlnng appeared to have been waiting for us in anxious 
 expectation ! What noise the pigs made ! How glad 
 the dogs were ! How my friendly cow turned her head to 
 me when I came with the milk pail ! 
 
 Hants was very triumphant. ''I told you I should make 
 him talk," he shouted to the old man. "I told you I could 
 and I would, and I did. Now, to-morrow I am going 
 to Fairlies and get him some clothes. But mind, you pay 
 half! That is business." 
 
 After supper and washing up, France produced the 
 box with books and told me that the next day he was' 
 going to begin to teach me to read and to write and other 
 things that were all in the books. He opened some of 
 them, and we looked at some pictures in them. Hants 
 would be saying something funny about some of the pic- 
 tures. And he spoke words for me to repeat, saying he 
 would teach me to speak English before France would 
 
 248 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 teach me to read Spanish. He did teach me the English 
 alphabet that evening. And I thought he must know some 
 
 Soanish, too. j i t • «. 
 
 'l Uked all this: the learning and telhng and lookmg at 
 the pictures. And 1 liked the company of the two men 
 and the pleasant room. But the pain was htill in my 
 breast all the time, making my heart feel sore. When 
 the lights in the house had been put out and the mur- 
 muring of the voices of the men had stopped, and i 
 had gone to lie in the field under the trees, alone m the 
 unknown, silent night, I lay and listened for the noise 
 of the bay, the rushing of the tide under the wharf, the 
 surf, the slapping of the water at the boat-steps the 
 whistling of the wind and farther away the sounds of the 
 big city blending together into that low, dull roar, which 
 was most plainly audible at certain times of the morn- 
 ing and the late afternoon, like an endless railway-train 
 crossing a distant bridge: but entirely different from the 
 noi^e of the trains on the other side of the bay, running 
 out to the end of the moles. On just such nights, only 
 seldom so calm and clear, 1 had always been able to hear 
 the moving trains, and see the hghts of the towns and 
 the outlines of the dark hills behind the lights, against 
 the starrv skv. Those hills had always seemed to me like 
 the end of the known world: as if there could be noth- 
 ing bevond them to think of. Now I knew how big the 
 world' was, and where in it was my old wharf .^ My 
 
 home! Mv home! . 
 
 In the morning Hants started on his trip to Fairhes. 
 He went in the old cart. I had to fetch the horse for it, 
 and he showed me how to put it in the shafts and how 
 to hitch it up. About that and other things concerning 
 horses I alreadv knew quite a little from having seen 
 and learned it at the livery-stable near our wharf, only i 
 was too small to do it all alone. "But I should soon be 
 bi-crer." Hants said. He was going to take some eggs 
 
 249 
 
CHRONICLES OP MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 along to sell, and butter, which I, that morning liad 
 had to churn, the first time I ever turned a churn and 
 learned how butter came to be made, which was exceed- 
 ingly interesting- I had known what butter was, but I 
 never had tasted any that I knew of. 
 
 The butter and the eggs, close-packed in boxes with 
 divisions, were put in a tightly closed receptacle under 
 the seat. Hants lit his pipe, ordered back the dogs, 
 told me to take good care of things and look cut well for 
 the pigs, and went off in the old cart wobbling down the 
 hili. He was glad of his trip, I could see, and at first, 
 I, too, was glad in a way, glad because he was glad and 
 also because of thinking of the clothes he had said he was 
 going to get for me. But after a very short while I 
 became uneasy at his absence. Something seemed want- 
 ing everywhere. All the animals, too, seemed to know 
 that all was not as usual. The dogs were quite restless. 
 And, although with all the work and its being my first 
 >chool-day with France, I had not one idle minute the 
 whole day, I never lost the sense of uneasiness. And 
 in the evening, when I came to understand that France 
 did not expect Hants back that night, that he might even 
 stay away a second night, I could hardly think it pos- 
 sible that we could endure that. 
 
 I had taken great pains with my lessons, learning my 
 letters and indeed a great deal more, so that France 
 was well pleased with me and more yet with himself, 
 his own teaching power. I had meant, no doubt to show 
 off before Hants, when he came home. Learning to 
 write the letters, I had managed to learn those for his 
 name and get them together and with his name, as I 
 spelled it. And now, there was this disappointment of 
 his not coming back that night- 
 
 I sat late over my book and slate and kept France at 
 it too ; as though by sitting up and waiting for Hants to 
 come I could bring about his return that night, or make it 
 
 250 
 
CHRONICLES 01' MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 a little more possible. But at last I had to go out to my 
 shed The dogs France took into the house ; he thought, 
 being restless they might bark if left outside and break 
 
 °"ks'soon as his light was out I got up and went to sit 
 on the step of the house door. But I heard the dog 
 sniffing at me under the door and went away for fear 
 o the dogs making a noise, I wandered round about 
 the farm-fard. I climbed over the fence n,to he cow- 
 field which extended both ways, uphill and down. 1 
 walked uphill to above the heap of rocks our spnng-water 
 came out of. The ground was very steep. But it did 
 noTlook so. It was strange how all the hills looked low, 
 and flattened-out in the dark. 
 
 I was sitting on the ground, listening to some sound 
 1 thought I heard. But it was only in my ears I had 
 an idea it might be the old cart. I saw three stars m a 
 row I had often seen them from our wharf when it 
 was clear They were almost all alike and they stood 
 Tlmost straight up and down in a line, the last one just 
 coming up over the low, black hills in the sky. 
 No sign of life in all the land ! 
 
 The pain in my breast was no longer so bad. But 1 
 felt more desolate than ever before. It was as if now 
 for the first time I had come to fully and clearly compre- 
 hend that I should never get back to the old wharf neve^ 
 see Nick and Nello again, never Mahon nor Mr. lem 
 ntdock Nor him. dearest of all! 
 
 I vvandered round again, to the horses-farther, to the 
 pigs that were sleeping, lying in short rows close-packed 
 side bv side on the ground. Later I was lymg near the 
 hay-stack by the cow-corral. I had not wanted to sleep. 
 ; dreaded Ly dream. But at last I slept. And my 
 dream came. It was night, but there were no stars. 
 ? waTon a mountainside above the Black's hut. The sky 
 was a little lighter than the ground and above, I saw two 
 
 -D 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 black figures of men. They could not see me against the 
 black ground but they were coming towards me. They 
 were the Black and the strange man. They were search- 
 ing for me- I tried to roll over, down the slope, but I 
 could not move. Something was holding me down, some- 
 thing flabby, a horrible, suffocating weight on my chest 
 and legs and arms. And now, I knew it to be the dog 
 by its foul smell ; and it was trying to get at my throat 
 with its fangs. 
 
 Then it all changed and suddenly I seemed to be 
 awake and to know that I had been but dreaming. Every- 
 thing was so plain and so light, I must be awake. It was 
 a beautiful day. Hants had come back. We were work- 
 ing in the garden. He wanted a hoe he had left in the 
 hop-shed and sent me to fetch it. I ran till I was wet 
 with sweat. But when 1 came in sight of the hop-shed 
 I felt a strange dread to go near it. Something was in 
 there. Something had just gone in at the door. I had 
 seen nothing and heard nothing, but something had gone 
 in. In the door was cut a square hole for light, about the 
 size of a man's head. I could just reach it with my 
 hands ; and as I lifted myself and looked, there appeared 
 suddenly in the black opening that horribly distorted face, 
 as I had seen it, so close it must have touched mine had I 
 not fallen back- 
 
 I lay in a stupor, soaked with sweat. Little by little 
 I became conscious that it was daylight and that the pigs 
 were making an unusual noise. It was late; they ought 
 to have been let out before this. I ran to their yard 
 and found three hogs were in the garden, rooting up 
 things. They had broken through the fence. The others 
 were fighting to get in. That was the noise I heard. I 
 opened the gate to their corral and they went off down 
 the hill, and two of the three in the garden went along, 
 out through the break in the fence, without having to be 
 
 252 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 chased. The third one, I had great trouble to drive out, 
 and the garden afterwards looked half destroyed. 
 
 I can never forget how very bad I felt about this. 
 Had not Hants told me to look out for the pigs? The 
 dogs had barked at my chasing the pig; I ought to have 
 let the dogs out to help, at least the shepherd dog. But 
 I had thought the dogs would make more havoc and 
 ruination ; or I had not known enough. I should have let 
 the pigs out earlier. I should not have wandered about 
 half the night trying not to sleep and knowing very well 
 my dream would come anyhow. 
 
 Old France was not up yet. I had all the feeding and 
 milking and creaming done before he appeared- Sitting 
 up late the night before had made him sleep late. He 
 wanted to know what I had made so much noise for and 
 set the dogs abarking. I told him about the pigs. He 
 went to look at the garden. At first he had nothing to 
 say. but later, when we had gone to work after breakfast 
 to repair the damage, and it took us till noontime before 
 we got through and we had the garden in shape again 
 and the fence mended, he had a good many remarks to 
 make. What seemed to fret him most was that we had to 
 skip school that forenoon, for working. And no pains- 
 taking on my part at the afternoon's lessons, nor quicker 
 progress, could make good this loss. 
 
 France was pretty good at gardening although slow, 
 and quite particular. When we had finished our work 
 the garden looked better than it had done before the pigs 
 broke in and the actual damage was trifling. 
 
 We were sitting at supper that evening when the dogs 
 barked and Hants came driving into the yard in his 
 wobbling cart. I was so glad he was back, I ran out to 
 him. I wanted to tell him about the pigs, too. because 
 for certain I could not be easy till that was told. But 
 I found no chance to speak to him now. He had a big 
 package which he carried into the house, leaving me to 
 
 253 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 unhitch the horse and put it in the corral Then he put 
 up the cart and went to wash himself. As he was towel- 
 Hng his face, I told him my story of the pigs. He only 
 laughed, and said it was nothing. And this easy and 
 good-humored way of taking my neglect, my carelessness, 
 seemed to sting me more than all of France's remarks. 
 I felt like wanting Hants to get mad and do something 
 to punish me, at least scold me, to make us even. 
 
 Then, after supper, when the table was clear and clean, 
 he opened the big package, and it was all things for me : 
 a pair of boots and a pair of shoes and two overalls like 
 the ones I had, and three gray flannel shirts and a pair of 
 cotton drawers, a sweater and an undershirt to wear with 
 it, a pair of knee-breeches and a jacket or coat such as 
 city-boys wear, a neckerchief and a belt and a straw hat 
 and a soft gray hat. 
 
 It was so much, I had never had so many things to- 
 together at one time in all my life, and I felt so ashamed 
 to get all these things, and after that pig-business, too, I 
 did not know what to say or to do. Yet to be sure I was 
 glad. And as I began to realize what a lot of fine things 
 I was becoming the owner of T became more glad. The 
 sweater, how beautiful ! And the russet belt with the 
 nickel buckle! And the gray hat with the black silk 
 ribband. I always had regretted that new hat which I 
 had left in the log-cabin on the mountain to burn up. 
 Now, this hat was much finer. 
 
 Hants was watching me with his broadest smiles ; and 
 knowing, I can fancy, that I just wanted him to do that, 
 he held out his hand to me, so I could grab it and wring 
 it with both of mine, trying to say something. And to 
 bear up against his undeserved leniency in that matter of 
 the pigs I was secretly making a sort of vow to myself, 
 that never, never should such rarelessnes of mine happen 
 again. 
 
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CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 I thanked France too, though it felt not a Uttle like 
 
 making rather free. ^ a 
 
 Hants had the receipted bill for the things ready and 
 made France settle with him right away for his share 
 of the costs, the money received for the butter and eggs 
 not being sufftcient to square the account. And he was 
 making all kind of signs to me, shutting one eye, crook- 
 ing his mouth, showing a coin, all to give me to under- 
 stand that he was cheating France, making him pay more 
 than his share, which I nowise properly comprehended 
 or perhaps thought a joke and that he afterwards would 
 make it all right again- But I think now he really meant 
 to cheat France and really did, thinking it more than a 
 
 very good joke. .• i^ . 
 
 After that I had to trv on every one of the article., 
 and this tryin-on of the new c'othes is the last of what i 
 remember of my first days at F.ve Oaks. I can see, now, 
 this moment, Hants helping me to button up turning me 
 round and round, making me >tep back, holding up the 
 lamp for a better view of me, taking his private hand- 
 mirror out of his bunk to let me look at myseh, appealing 
 once in a while to France, who was seated at the other 
 side of the table with his spectacles over a book, preparing 
 for next day's teachings, and turning, when called upon. 
 rather stiff-necked to look at me, as at a distant land- 
 
 The next event which I remember, if not too clearly, 
 is the hop-picking and bean-pickmg at our place. I know 
 the hops were a little late, while the beans were very early 
 and were picked right after the hops ; for which a num- 
 ber of Chinese laborers had been sent by the Boss from 
 Fountain Head, our hop-yard being not large but our 
 bean-field was extensive, taking in the greater part of the 
 
 bottom lands. 
 
 I did not -ee very much of this work, for the reason 
 that Hants bossing it left so much more for me to do 
 
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CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 round the house so as to take up all of my time. And 
 for another leason that somehow the hop-shed had come 
 into some connection with the haunting frights of my 
 dreams, so that I did not, if T could help it, go near it. 
 And for yet another reason, that I thought, some of the 
 Chinamen might be of those wHh whom I had that time 
 come from the city with Lum, although I ought to have 
 known enough to know that they never in the world could 
 recognize me. 
 
 But more than three months must have elapsed since 
 my coming to Five Oaks before the bean-crop was har- 
 vested, and in that time I can imagine me well grown 
 into my new life, in the empty country, alone with my 
 two men, with constantly inci easing liking for it all: 
 the place, the men, the things, my schooling, my work, 
 in the ever beautiful weather, till with the moderating of 
 my homesickness the days had again become days of 
 lighter heart, contentment, enjoyment of the hour, fun. 
 If only that black weight could have been lifted oflf my 
 soul : the terror of my imagined pursuit, of my impending 
 doom. 
 
 I could not speak of it. Not without being brought to 
 it, questioned, led on, urged. I never was afraid or shy 
 of speaking to anybody. But if it is hard for a child 
 under the most favorable circumstances to tell a story 
 of only plain facts, how was I, even fully trusting my men 
 as I did, to tell this, except under examination and cross- 
 examination? How had it all come about? What had it 
 all meant? What had I done to bring this on, to be 
 stolen, drugged, beaten and beaten and strangled, shot at ? 
 Who was that strange man to want me dead? It was all 
 stupefaction. Who could understand it? Who would 
 believe it? 
 
 It had been like some act of nature, a hurricane or 
 flood, when, if it caught one, nothing could be done only 
 to watch to escape and lie low in as safe a place as could 
 
 256 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 be got to, till it was over. Oiny this somehow was not 
 over. How much the drug given me had to do with it I 
 do not know. It made me look upon my whole 
 adventure as something I must hide from everybody, 
 from myself, not think of it, deny it to myself, or bring 
 about discovery and instant seizure by the evil power that 
 was aiming at my worse than death. As I can follow it 
 in the workings of my mind, I cime to regard, to feel the 
 enmity of this evil being, his dt-signs on me, my fancied 
 pursuit, the certainty of my capture as something form- 
 ing part of my existence, something I could never get 
 escape from, my doom, my fate, which I must silently 
 bear till such a time when my again falling into the hands 
 of the strange evil-one for everlasting torturing would 
 take place. 
 
 If only I had been made to talk about it ! If only I had 
 told somebody the secret of my dreams ! 
 
 Hants had once been very near making me tell. And 
 I am very sure he would have penetrated to the bottom 
 of my mystery and have cleared it up. If only he had not 
 given up his questioning but had persisted. I could 
 not have kept my story from lom. My truthfulness must 
 have made me answer truthfully. And if I could not have 
 made anything but a very riddlesome tale of it, he would 
 have understood to make it intelligible to himself. 
 
 But he contented himself with leaving things alone, 
 partly or mostly from carelessness, or, I will say, good- 
 natured consideration for me. His aim was not to harass 
 me and increase my evident nervous distress by urging 
 or tricking me into telling what I was plainly most anxious 
 to conceal, and what would be soonest remedied, it might 
 be, by my forgetting, if I were left to myself; but on the 
 contrary to ease my mind by promising me protection, 
 take me to them, proposing to make me comfortable with 
 them, and then let me be. Satisfied, too, I have no doubt, 
 he was with acquiring in me at a cheap rate, a willing and 
 
 257 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 with all my smallness a helpful worker, greatly needed 
 by them indeed, a welcome addition, at the same time to 
 their society on the retired farm, to France a most desired 
 object for practising school-teaching and education on, 
 and to Hants himself a companion, certainly an attentive 
 listener to his talk in the solitude of the fields; and for 
 occasions a kind of plaything. 
 
 Such an occasion, which I have never forgotten, was 
 the coming to our place of a man with a boy, his son or 
 nephew, between whom and myself Hants was presently 
 trying to get up a fight or boxing-match to entertain 
 the grown people for an idle hour, the day being Sun- 
 day. They belonged to a couple of families, who were 
 on their way from the Southern part of the big, inland 
 California valley up North into the Shasta country where 
 they had bought land and were going to settle. They had 
 made camp the night before somewhere at the foot of 
 our hills. The man had gone out to find some place 
 where he could buy some potatoes they were short of, 
 and had accidentally struck the road to Five Oaks- The 
 boy had come along. 
 
 1 well remember how excited I became at the first sight 
 of them, as they suddenly appeared at our yard-gate, the 
 first white strangers I had seen since I had come to Five 
 Oaks, and especially at seeing the boy, in the manner, I 
 suppose, of one animal seeing another of the same kind. 
 The sight delighted me. I could have hugged him. I 
 don't know that he was particularly good-looking, nor did 
 he later prove to be anything but an ordinary and perhaps 
 somewhat more than ordinarily foolish boy. But he 
 looked handsome to me and full of good qualities. He 
 reminded me of all the children I had ever known and 
 liked. He had come, I could fancy, from a world I had 
 once dwelt in myself, a beautiful world, full of beautiful 
 all-things, now vanished forever. 
 
 Hants, mistaking, I suppose, my excitement, called me 
 
 258 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 to him and bade me stay with him and be easy, till, after 
 finding out who the man was and what he wanted. He 
 then sent me into the garden to dig up some potatoes, 
 the boy making me quite happy by going along, stand- 
 ing by, looking on, telling me in how well known boyish 
 bragging all sorts of stories : how many thousand horses 
 his "father owned and how h- had with his father's re- 
 volver last night shot and killevi a big grizzly, hittmg him 
 
 right in the eye. 
 
 But pretty soon he wanted to fire some potatoes at the 
 horses and chickens, and when 1 stopped him doing that 
 he picked up lumps of earth to do it with. I had to 
 catch his hands. He grew quite rough. He started m to 
 pull up vegetable-plants and T had to hustle him out of 
 the garden, back to where the man was standing, talk- 
 ing To Hants, where the resp visibility for his misdeeds 
 would not rest on me. 
 
 It was on seeing us struggling that Hants proposed that 
 we boys should fight, or spar, urging: "They ought to 
 fight anyhow. It does them good. And we ought to have 
 some fun out of them. They can not hurt each other-" 
 
 The man said the boy's mother would not like him to 
 fight. But later it came to a fight anyhow. The boy 
 had taken the hatchet out of the woodshed and had 
 chopped with it at almost everything; the fences, trees, 
 sheds, troughs. The hatchet was a very nice hatchet, 
 new, dean and sharp, really inviting one to take it and 
 chop away with it, and I suppose the boy could not resist. 
 He seemed, any way, to be one of the kind that have their 
 own way pretty much all the time. And he had been 
 alone I had been with France, cleaning up. Hants and 
 the man had been looking at the vineyard. When they 
 came back and Hants saw the cutting done he became 
 angry Outspoken as he always was, he scolded the boy 
 roundly, making the man, too, for shame's sake, scold the 
 boy, asking what business he had to touch what was not 
 
 259 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 his, when the boy said, "I had given him the hatchet and 
 told him to do all the cutting he wanted." Thereupon, of 
 course, Hants called me to hear what I had to say to that, 
 and I very truly made answer ''that the boy lied, though 
 I felt very much ashamed for him to have to say it." 
 
 The man and the boy, too, were, as it appeared, quite 
 willing to let it go at that. I dare say it was no news to 
 them. But Hants, who now saw his opportunity, did not 
 rest till we were arrayed for a fight, not to the man's 
 satisfaction altogether, perhaps, because of the boy's 
 mother. Still he felt rather sure, I fancied, of the boy's 
 being more than my match, bigger as he was, and was 
 agreeable to see me beaten. The boy was not so insensible 
 as not to feel himself in the wrong. He did not want to 
 fight very much, I could see, but I think he had the same 
 opinion about it as the man- 
 
 I never was a fighter, but I liad had to learn to defend 
 myself, and if I knew more about it than other boys, it 
 was what Mahon had taught me. Small boys I could 
 never strike, and I never wanted to fight anyone that did 
 not want to fight, or cried. But this boy knew something 
 about boxing. And he was a far better hitter than I had 
 taken him to be. He could not get me off my feet, I 
 always was very firm in my legs. He punished me badly 
 enough, though. All the time, however, I felt sure, if I 
 held out, I should win. And I also felt that in order to 
 clear myself of this imputed wrongdoing, fasten the lie 
 on the boy, and set myself right with my men, at least 
 Hants, I must win. And I did. The next time the boy 
 struck, I let myself down and was up again and had 
 landed twice on his jaw before he knew what was hap- 
 pening. And then I sent him down flat. 
 
 He howled and cried and crawled away tc the man, 
 who said something about its being enough. 
 
 "Well," shouted Hants, *iet him confess, then, tKat he 
 lied." 
 
 260 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 The man told him to speak up and tell if he took the 
 hatchet himself. He could not give a straight answer even 
 
 ^ ^^l only wanted to cut a little twig for a whip," he 
 
 whined. ^ i j ^ u ^ 
 
 I was sorry for him to cry, but still I was glad to have 
 won, but nothing to what Hants was, who kept saying: 
 "I knew you would win, I knew you would wm, addmg 
 when we were alone : "I reckon you hit pretty hard Your 
 hand is pretty heavy and hard knit from hard work. You 
 hurt him pretty badly. ^^ But no worse than he deserved. 
 for he was a dirty liar." 
 
 France that evening read me a long lectuie on prin- 
 ciples of hospitality, good manners and gentlemanly be- 
 havior, Hants sitting by in silence, smoking his pipe, mak- 
 ing faces, giving me looks and grimaces and wmks, to let 
 me into the secret of his enjoying these remarks as being 
 intended for him. But I think I listened very seriously 
 to what the old man was saying, and formed a sort oi 
 resolution to act differently next time, I could not tell 
 exactly how, but differently. 
 
 My reading had to be cut short that evenmg, as niy 
 eyes were nearly closed ; next morning Hants was laugh- 
 ing at me for their discolored swelling. But it soon all 
 went away. The following week when Hants went to 
 Fairlies he brought back from there some boxing gloves 
 for him and me, and a punching bag, and at suitable times 
 gave me lessons in boxing, wherein he was quite an expert- 
 Shortly after this it must have been that the native cow- 
 boy, Salvador, came to our place, who taught me a 1 kmds 
 of horsemansip and the use of the lariat. I had learned 
 to ride horseback and how to manage a horse pretty well 
 before this. I had been on a horse often enough. We 
 had a strong, little, pinto pony that I could always take to 
 eo after the cows or pigs, or to go anywheres of any dis- 
 tance. I do not remember the first time I was put on a 
 
 261 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 horse. I presume Hants did it. I know I first had to go 
 bareback with nothing but a piece of hay rope hitched up 
 for a bridle. After a while Hants fixed me up an old 
 Mexican saddle tree with pommel, stirrups and cinch, but 
 no skirts or covering, and with an old, soft gunny sack 
 for a blanket. And an old, plain bit that I found I fixed 
 to my bridle myself. All these things I had to do right 
 along, until now I got a regular bridle. 
 
 I think Salvador had first come to Five Oaks with the 
 Chinese hop pickers and bean pickers, and had lived with 
 them at their camp, and I had seen him there, but had 
 forgotten him. When he came again, I remembered hav- 
 ing seen him before. I have never been able to make clear 
 to myself what he came back to our place for. At times I 
 have thought he was one of a gang of horse thieves that 
 operated far away South, taking horses over the Sierra 
 into the State of Nevada, that he was in hiding now, and 
 that Hants was not without some knowledge of this and 
 had some former acquaintance with him. Certainly Hants 
 was not altogether satisfied to have him around, nor to 
 have me go out with him. He hesitated considerably to 
 give his consent when I told him that Salvador had offered 
 to teach me some cowboy's horseman tricks. -\nd gener- 
 ally he was always ready with his consent, never denying 
 me anything I asked leave to do unless he had good 
 reasons. 
 
 Salvador spoke exceedingly good English, although 
 there was apparently not a drop of any but Californian- 
 Indian blood in him, and that of the very darkest kind. 
 When I shut my eyes, I see him yet, tall, spare and lank, 
 stiff, upright on his horse, but moving as easy with the 
 horse as if the two were one. His horse was a beautiful 
 half-breed mare that he could do almost anything with, 
 and she was as attached to him as I have never known 
 any other animal to be to any man. 
 
 When he was drunk, the mare took care of him like a 
 
 2b2 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 human being. One such time I recollect when he had slid 
 out of the saddle and lay on the ground unable to rise and 
 in that stage of drunkenness that he would not let me 
 help him. The mare with her teeth took hold oi the collar 
 of his coat at the neck, lifted him up, stood him up agamst 
 the fence, and then came to his side, stooping sideways to 
 lower the saddle to near the ground, for him to mount 
 And when he fell in the attempt, lifting him up again and 
 again, always stepping and moving with the greatest care 
 not to step on him or hurt him, turning at last to me 
 as if in despair, nudging me with her nose as if to tell 
 me to help her. When finally he was m the saddle, the 
 mare went off balancing him with the most painstaking, 
 eager exertion, meeting the swaying and lurching of his 
 body at every step ; she sweating, wet all over and treni- 
 bling in every muscle with nervous fear lest he vhoiild fall. 
 If he was too drunk to move, she would stay with him 
 till he came to or till assistance came. If he had fallen to 
 lie in a road or trail, or any place of danger, she would 
 draw him aside out of harm's way, and then stand guard 
 over him. Once, when he had fallen and badly Inirt him- 
 self and lav insensible, she had gone for help to a ranch, 
 distant several hours' fast travel. I often wished her to 
 be mine But she did not care for me nor anyone but her 
 master ; and he was not so very fond of her, not at least 
 to show it. Certainly he never abused her, as he was. all 
 in all. rather good-natured. Only in liquor he a ways 
 was a little uglv. .\nd he was often in liquor He always 
 carried a flask of some kind or other of liquor in his 
 pocket, wherever he got it. And he turned more ugly 
 e^-erv time at my refusal to drink, as though it were an 
 insult But I had such a horror of liquor, probably from 
 my drugging. 1 could not have forced myself to taste it- 
 The smell alone sickened me. 
 
 The first time Salvador took me up to higher points on 
 the ranges, back north of Five Oaks, how strange it was 
 
 263 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 to see the shape of the country changing at every step! 
 How flat tiie lower hills came to look, branching and twist- 
 ing every way. Five Oaks was nothing but a low knoll, 
 detached from the other hill-land, and pushed forward to 
 the south, out all by itself into the big valley, and the 
 bottom-land going round it like a dried-up lagoon. 
 
 Below us, winding in and out among the hills was a 
 road. We had crossed it where it skirted our bottom- 
 land and I had suspected it to be the road leading by the 
 thicket where Hants had found me. Now, from above 
 I could plainly make it out. It was the same road and 
 no other, where that strange man had come down with 
 his companion in the buggy and had gone by the place 
 where I lay hiding in the wooded patch. I could not 
 see where the road came from, nor where it led to. It 
 lost itself in the swell of the hills. It had no connec- 
 tion with Five Oaks, only at the thicket where I had 
 lain hiding. It ran along our bottom-land for a distance, 
 and there was in our side-fence an accommodation-gate 
 to a trail leading along our bean-field over to where our 
 road to Fairlies came down the hill. 
 
 West of Five Oaks the road curved round the next 
 spur of hill and where a group of live-oaks stood crown- 
 ing a bluif. Beyond that it was not visible, but Salvador 
 told me that right there under that bluff it connected 
 with the road to the river-landing, and he pointed out to 
 me the directions in which Sacramento lay and San 
 Francisco, the big, rich city. 
 
 We never went on any roads, we just went over the 
 hills, rising higher and higher to the north. They were 
 pretty much all alike, swelling and sloping to all sides, 
 mostly bare but with bush-overgrown, rocky outcrop- 
 pings in many places and with little gulches, notches, 
 sinkholes filled with scrubby copses and larger woods, 
 the drab-colored ground hard and dry and full of count- 
 less little cracks, covered with sun-dried grass of a 
 
 264 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 brownish tinge all of a dirty lifelessness. The hills 
 gradually changed to bolder heights with sharper ridges, 
 where farther away tall timbers stood in patches, more 
 and more crowding together into the broad forest-belt, 
 sweeping round to the East, with the peaks of the high 
 mountain-chain overtopping it. 
 
 These hills were the cattle-ranges of the Boss at Foun- 
 tain Head. 
 
 I think here Salvador had his camp, where he slept and 
 got his meals- But I never saw^ the place. Perhaps 
 he had something to do with these cattle. He acted 
 sometimes as if he might. Once in a while he would 
 throw a young steer to show me how it was done and 
 how to use the lariat for that purpose. I came to know 
 how to throw the lariat pretty well. 
 
 Another thing he taught me was to play monte and 
 poker. We would play on horseback, the horses stand- 
 ing head by side, the lariats coiled round pommel and 
 pommel, and he holding his broad-brimmed hat to play 
 the cards on. Playing that way in the shade of some 
 tree he would stay all day if he could, hanging and lying 
 on the horse, one leg drawn up and half thrown over ; 
 the other slipped down. 
 
 Yet another thing he taught me was to smoke cigar- 
 ettes. But when France came to find that out which he 
 did very soon, because, of course, no secret was made 
 of it by me, he made such a fuss that he broke me of it 
 and for good. And he took the opportunity of abridging 
 my time for horseback exercises, which began to inter- 
 fere with my lessons, too. I always liked my horse- 
 back trips very much, but not indeed for being away 
 from home. I always liked being home and at work, 
 too. And the best part of the trips was perhaps always 
 the coming back home. Now Salvador could not get 
 me to go very far with him any more. He tried to sev- 
 eral times and when I turned back sneered at me for 
 
 265 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 minding, calling me *'a coward and a slave." I told him 
 "that nothing he could call me and nothing at all would 
 make me do different from what my men told me to do, 
 and that I was not afraid of him." 
 
 Once he told me there was a man far down South, a 
 rich man, owning many thousand head of cattle, who 
 wanted just such a boy as I. 
 
 Another time he told me if we were in San Francisco 
 he could get me a place at the race-courses as jockey, 
 riding races, where I could make lots of money and wear 
 beautiful clothes, all silk and satin, showing me a colored 
 print of a boy dressed in shiny, pink knee-breeches, green 
 blouse with pink sleeves and green cap, looking very 
 pretty on a lean horse- 
 After that I do not remember him any more. 
 
 August. 
 
 Yesterday I earned very fair wages and had entertain- 
 ment in the bargain. 
 
 I went again to that colony of small dwellings where 
 the day before I had worked. The two places next 
 to that one were unoccupied, the following one I 
 wanted to pass by because there were signs of disorder 
 about it which I did not like, but I changed my mind, 
 went up to the door and rang the bell. A very young 
 and pretty but most slovenly dressed — I should say half- 
 dressed woman or girl came to the door and I asked 
 her if the folks wanted somebody to put the little front- 
 yard in shape. 
 
 She laughed, showing very fine, white and even teeth 
 and called, "Joe! Joe! Here is a man who wants to 
 know if the folks want the garden fixed. You must be 
 the folks, so you better show up." 
 
 Someone from some rear room called back, "What is 
 
 266 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 it dearie?" A door was opened and a very young man, 
 not much older than the girl, appeared and stumbling 
 and falling over some unpacked drawers and boxes and 
 different other things covering the whole floor of the 
 entrance-hallway, plunged into my arms, whereat the 
 girl set up a peal of laughter and cried, ''Everybody 
 stumbles over those drawers. Last week papa nearly 
 broke his neck. I laughed till I was not able to stir. 
 Did you get hurt, dearie?" 
 
 "No, darling," answered the young man, "but if this 
 man had not caught me, I might have got hurt badly. 
 Are you the man ? What did you want ? Fix the garden ? 
 Can you do nothing but gardening?" 
 
 "Why, yes, I can do almost everything I am paid for." 
 
 "Oh! Well, I think you are the man w^e have been 
 waiting for. We want somebody to help us fix up the 
 house. You won't charge more than a couple of dollars, 
 will you ?" 
 
 I looked round, rather dubiously I think, because he 
 raised his offer himself, a dollar and another dollar, 
 before I spoke. The carpets were laid and the kitchen- 
 stove had been put up and the hot-water boiler and water- 
 back connected, but everything else was in a state of con- 
 fusion and disorder not to be imagined. 
 
 "You may do what you like," here spoke up the young 
 woman in a complaining w^ay, as if somebody had been 
 trying to injure her, "but I am going to have my break- 
 fast before everything is upset- Joe! I don't care." 
 
 "All right dearest," answered Mr. Joe. "I did not have 
 mine yet late as it is, two hours since I got up. Have 
 you had your breakfast?" he asked, turning to me. I 
 told him I had. 
 
 "Well," he continued, "have a cup of coft'ee. My wife 
 makes very good coffee. We will all go in the kitchen 
 and have some breakfast, then we can work better. 
 That will do for lunch. Come in Mister." 
 
 267 
 
CHRONICLES OP MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ''Come in," added Mrs. Joe. ''Come right in. Look 
 out for those things. It makes me laugh every time I 
 think of papa, how he stumbled and shot by me into the 
 kitchen and just missed hitting the stove with his head. 
 How do you like the place? I think it is real nice. 
 That is the parlor. You see the rosewood piano? Do 
 you play the piano? Oh, just go in and try it- Look 
 out! There are some flowerpots under that blanket. 
 Play something! Please! Oh, do! Just anything! 
 Well, you can play something afterwards. Oh, Joe! 
 What are vou doing? What did you let the fire go out 
 for?" 
 
 "I did not let the fire go out, it went out of itself," 
 returned Mr. Joe. "I think I will light the gas. Shall 
 I light the gas sweetie?" 
 
 "All right," exclaimed Mrs. Joe and went on talking 
 to me while he put the water on to boil in a saucepan over 
 a gas cooking-arrangement on one side of the stove." 
 Sit down Mister. What is your name? Oh I like that 
 name. I always have liked that name. Just take those 
 things off that chair. Tliey are the parlor-windows' cur- 
 tains on their poles. We did not take them off the poles. 
 We only moved in three weeks ago. Oh, dear ! I tore 
 my dress this morning. Look what a gash ! Well, I 
 was to get a new wrapper anyhow. Oh, put those things 
 anywhere. Open that door! Yes, that is the pantry- 
 Put them in there. Is that water boiling yet, Joe ? Dear 
 me! there is baby awake. Don't bother Mr. Manuel! 
 Well, she is right there, right in that heap of things. 
 Be careful ! You might fall. There she is behind those 
 pillows and pots. We just put her down there. Her 
 crib is not put up yet. It is in the cellar. We only 
 moved in three weeks ago. Don't take her up Mr. 
 Manuel ! She is all wet. I can't put her dry now. This 
 afternoon she has to be dressed anyhow. She is going 
 out with my mother. 
 
 268 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 The baby was the prettiest, most good-natured little 
 thing, not more than half a year old. It laughed at me 
 and reached out the hands to me and did not cry when 
 I, heeding the mother's advice, did not take it up but 
 went away to begin at some point with putting things 
 to rights, as soon as breakfast, or lunch had been par- 
 taken of- 
 
 If it had not been so amusing it would have been 
 aggravating. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Joe had any idea 
 how the things should be placed, how they wanted them 
 placed, at which room or point to commence with plac- 
 ing them. Nor did they care in the very least. And he 
 was otherwise rational and circumspect enough, what- 
 ever she was. He had taken this day off to work at 
 getting the furniture put in place. I found he held quite 
 a responsible position as manager of a large Office Fur- 
 niture Company. They would both sit and talk about 
 anything and everything, any outside question, arguing, 
 fooling, telling stories, gossip, talk to the baby and make 
 not one move to get out of what was to me, a perfectly un- 
 endurable, chaotic state. 
 
 Some things were almost ludicrous enough to have been 
 invented. The only door to the dining room opened 
 out of the kitchen. A lot of furniture having been put 
 into this dining room, carelessly piled piece on piece, 
 something had slipped, falling against the door on the 
 inside, shutting it and keeping it closed, so that nobody 
 could get into that room. And they had lived that way 
 since they had occupied the house, cooking and eating 
 with pans and dishes, plates, knives, forks, spoons bor- 
 rowed from neighbors, their own dining room ware and 
 kitchen utensils being shut in with the other things in 
 the self -closed dining room. 
 
 "But why do you not get in?" I asked. 
 
 ''You can not," answered both. 
 
 "From the outside," I suggested. 
 
 269 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 "The sashes are locked." 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "Well, we have no ladder/' said Mr- Joe, as if ad- 
 mitting something he would rather have kept dark, but 
 which settled the question. 
 
 "It is no use trying to open the door because the 
 lounge has fallen dead against it," he resumed. 
 
 "The sideboard, lovie," interposed Mrs. Joe. 
 
 "No, sweetness, the lounge." 
 
 "Dearie, I know it is the sideboard." 
 
 "My darling, I put my hand round the edge of the 
 door, and I felt the plush of the lounge." 
 
 "Let us try to move it," I interrupted them. "If you 
 could get your hand round the door that far, maybe 
 we can get the door back more yet and get in." And I 
 made the attempt, but found that indeed the lounge, or 
 the sideboard or something held the door so securely that 
 ] did not dare to force it, till 1 had tried to get into the 
 room by way of the window. For this I had to go and 
 borrow a ladder from the neigbhbors across the street, 
 whose whole family turned out to watch my proceed- 
 ings. Mr. and Mrs. Joe likewise came out into the street 
 in front of their house to watch my trying to get in at the 
 side window, other neighbors came to their windows, a 
 milk-wagon and a grocery's delivery-team drew up; 
 passers-by stopped, everyone was gasping and Mr. and 
 Mrs. Joe had to give their explanation of the origin of 
 the trouble to everybody. Luckily the sash of one of the 
 two dining room windows was not locked, and after 
 seeing me raise the sash and enter the room, the crowd 
 dispersed. 
 
 I did not open the door of the room right away, but 
 locked it, the key being in the lock, and set myself to 
 work to put the furniture in place, even the dishes and 
 table-linen and the crockery into the closet and sideboard 
 before I let Mr- and Mrs. Joe come into the room. 
 
 270 
 
CHRONICLES OF MAXUEL ALAXUS 
 
 Next I went to work in the kitchen and pantry, urging 
 Mrs. Joe to wash the borrowed things and put them to 
 one side for deHvery. When ^Ir. Joe saw me getting on 
 to putting up the beds, he made up his mind to go down 
 to his business for the rest of the day, but it took more 
 than one hour before he got out of the house. Talking, 
 arguing, all to no purpose, fooling, loitering. He offered 
 to pay me before leaving, but 1 told him I should cer- 
 tainly not have finished before he would be back, when 
 he immediately insisted on my promising that I would 
 under no consideration go away before he came back, 
 but would stay and have dinner with them. 
 
 After he was gone, I got on with my work much better. 
 Mrs. Joe w'as not so much of a hindrance. And be- 
 sides she had the telephone to entertain her. Half the 
 time, fully. J should say, she was at the telephone in 
 the kitchen, talking to friends, to her husband too, or 
 listening to other people's talk on the line. The rest 
 of the time she would follow- me about, stand in the door- 
 ways of the rooms I was working in. sometimes talk- 
 ing, sometimes merely looking on, the baby on her arm 
 with its wondering eyes fixed on me. smiling back when- 
 ever I smiled at it. 
 
 She had been married two years, she told me and her 
 wedding-day had been her eighteenth birthday. She 
 would ask questions and go on talking like a child. And 
 indeed w^hat was she but a child I 
 
 "Do you know Amelia Whitcome? I thought you 
 might. Her mother keeps a notion-store on Hayes Street. 
 She used to go to school with me. Why no! Not the 
 mother! She is a very nice girl- Last Saturday we went 
 to the matinee together. I took baby over to mama and 
 left her there till afterwards. We had a fine time. Oh, 
 we had such fun. T laughed. One of the ushers, the 
 long-haired one had a feather sticking in his hair, a white 
 feather. Hee ! Hee ! Somebody had stuck it in and he 
 
 271 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 did not know it at all. No! We laughed! Amelia 
 just shrieked. Do you like the ushers at the Grand better 
 or at the Central ? I think they are too fresh altogether." 
 
 Every now and then she would drop into her queru- 
 lous way of talking : "Oh, dear ! I ought to dress. 
 Mama will be mad if I am not dressed when she comes. 
 But who can dress with all this work adoing. And this 
 child is so heavy, too." 
 
 I was at the last bedroom when the mother came, a 
 neat and comfortable looking, bustling little body. 
 
 "Oh, you have a man working," she exclaimed. "But 
 is not that expensive? No?" 
 
 "Now, mama," complained Mrs. Joe, "all the time you 
 have been scolding us about our not getting fixed up, 
 and now you scold because we are." 
 
 "I am not at all scolding," contradicted the mother, 
 raising her voice- "I am only thinking. The expense! 
 What do you pay him now? Hm! Not! No!" 
 
 "I don't know, mama. Joe has settled it with the man. 
 You can ask him. I won't." 
 
 "Ask him? When Joe has settled it with him, how 
 would it look to ask him?" 
 
 "Well I don't care. He is all right. Here is baby all 
 dressed. I wish I could go along." 
 
 "But you could not go along. I don't care if the man 
 is all right, somebody must stay in the house to watch." 
 
 She had taken off her gloves as soon as she had en- 
 tered the house, and while she was talking she was 
 going round the kitchen, picking up and putting away the 
 clothes Mrs. Joe had taken off the baby for the wash- 
 ing and redressing of it and had dropped and left lying on 
 the floor all about. And seeing this I could rightly form 
 the idea that the very tidiness of the mother was greatly 
 to blame for the slatterliness of the daughter. Not the 
 tidiness in itself of course, but the lack of judgment in 
 the practising of it: doing herself what she ought to let 
 
 272 
 
CHRONICLES Of MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 the daughter do, make her do, what indeed long since 
 she ought to have taught the daughter to do, increasing 
 instead of lessening the evil, as if in removing the evi- 
 dence of slovenliness she did away with the slovenliness 
 itself. 
 
 Good nature might have much to do with it. She 
 seemed good-natured. And she evidently was fond of 
 her daughter and the baby. She was yisibly glad when 
 she received the little one in her arms- 
 
 "Oh, the dear little girl," she cried, "will she go with 
 grandma now, and is she going to stay with grandma 
 all night? I do not think Joe should pay more than two 
 dollars at the most. Well, all right! Perhaps! Not! 
 No!" 
 
 All her speeches were made loud enough for me to 
 hear, especially her parting injunction to Mrs. Joe to 
 keep an eye on me. But Mrs. Joe paid no attention 
 to that. As soon as the mother was gone, she said she 
 was going to the neighbors to return the borrowed things. 
 I asked her to stay in the house to see that I arranged 
 everything to suit her. With more sensibility than I 
 should ever have given her credit for she said, blushing 
 as she spoke, "Oh, Mr. Manuel you must not mind any- 
 thing mama says. She is only contrary. Now if I 
 should but just have said anything, putting on you know. 
 that I did not trust you, she would have flown right up 
 in my face, taking your part. And then she is a little 
 deaf, vvhich makes her speak louder than she knov/s." 
 
 I told her I was much obliged to her for her regard 
 for my feelings, but if it was not too disagreeable to her, 
 I should be still more obliged to her if she would stay in 
 the house and for my own protection. For if after- 
 wards anything should be missing, would she not be 
 liable to think I took it. She gave a laugh, saying: "If 
 we should be blaming every missing article of ours on 
 
 273 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 someone coming into our house, there would not be 
 people enough, that we know, to go round." 
 
 She remained in the house however. After a while 
 she went into her bedroom "to fix up," as she expressed 
 herself. When she appeared again, she looked clean, 
 her hair was neatly made, she had on a new gown, and 
 there was about her an air of consciousness of improve- 
 ment that pleased while it amused, like a dressed up little 
 girl- She set herself to work to begin preparations for 
 dinner. And I noticed again that she was very clean 
 in her cooking, although maybe very wasteful, and very 
 careless as to the cleaning up afterwards. 
 
 Since I had begun to like her, I liked her more, I 
 suppose it was a sort of fraternal feeling gaining ground 
 in me. But no! My brotherly feelings all belong to 
 Harry. And yet it is, no doubt, the working of the 
 fraternal instinct, if there is such a thing. 
 
 I was through with my w^ork. I had gone through all 
 the rooms again and halls and closets for a last glance. 
 I had set the table in the dining room and had carried 
 away the ste]^l adder and the other borrowed articles to the 
 different neighbors, fetching back from one of them some 
 green stuff" and three very fine roses on a long branch. 
 Of the roses Mrs. Joe took one: the other two on the 
 branch with the other green I put in a long glass on the 
 dining table. I had overhauled all the gas-fixtures, 
 cleaned, put on and changed the globes to suit and lit 
 the gas. "It looked like Christmas," said Mrs. Joe, as 
 she put the rose in her hair. 
 
 Mr. Joe came just little enough late to be and feel 
 doubly welcome, and with all the expression of wonder 
 and satisfaction at the transformation of his house that 
 I could wish for and his wife could try to second, and 
 with more satisfaction than I had expected at the changed 
 appearance of his wife, with which I fancied him dis- 
 posed to credit me as well. With equal satisfaction, 
 
 274 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 seemingly, he paid me and we sat down to dinner which 
 proved Mrs. Joe to be a very good cook, and after 
 dinner then, I had to play for them on the piano. 
 
 I had tried to make the cleaning up and washing up 
 after dinner a joint-stock affair, claiming I wanted to 
 leave the house in an orderly condition, every part. But 
 I had failed. The dining table as it stood, remained set 
 with all the remnants of the dinner in all the dishes, 
 plates, cups and glasses. And it probably is in that con- 
 dition yet. 
 
 After playing a few popular airs and dances I ex- 
 cused myself. In fact I was so tired, I can not remember 
 any time that I was more so. But I had to return to the 
 piano three, four times before I could make my escape. 
 
 This morning I again visited that colony and met with 
 another mother and daughter. It was rather late. I 
 had gone by Mr. DeLang's place and seeing the ground 
 look rather dry had given the garden a watering. Some- 
 body will steal that water-hose there some day, lying 
 as it does openly by the steps all the time. It ought to be 
 put away. And then I must be given a key to what- 
 ever place it is put in, to be able to get at it when I want 
 to vise it, or it will not be very long before my agreement 
 with Mr. DeLang for watering the garden is broken, if 
 Mrs. DeLang is going to be so constantly absent from 
 home- She seems not to have been back since Satur- 
 day. I wonder how Mr. DeLang can put up with that. 
 I think, sweet and fascinating as she is, I should prefer 
 even childish Mrs. Joe for a wife. What are to him 
 house and home, domestic habits, well earned means of 
 comfortable living, all? 
 
 I presume though the last, or rather the first cause is 
 the want of children. 
 
 At the colony I walked up the cross-street to the last 
 row of houses, where in front of the first one of them a 
 rather smiling lady, no longer very young, was sprink- 
 
 275 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ling the little front yard with a small, rubber hose and 
 sprinkler, and I asked if she would not let me do that 
 job for her. 
 
 She proved to be very talkative; so much so that in 
 less than ten minutes I had become possessed of all the 
 salient points of her life's history; and it was funny as 
 well as slightly embarrassing to have her tell me things 
 as though she were only speaking of what I already 
 well knew. First of all, however, she offered to give me 
 twenty cents to water that garden for her, and when I 
 gladly accepted the offer, told me to take the hose, quick, 
 or her arm would break the next second, from holding 
 it. Then, when I was sprinkling the newly sprouting 
 grass, she remained by my side, talking fast and un- 
 ceasingly, making me think that I had principally been 
 paid to listen, feeling at least like an engaged listener. 
 
 ''Her name is Mrs. Woodelin. She is a divorced wom- 
 an, deserted by her hsuband from whom she has since 
 been divorced, left with three children, one boy and two 
 girls, supporting them and herself by giving music les- 
 sons, vocal and instrumental, doing very well indeed, 
 boarding with her stepmother. She is likewise her aunt, 
 having been married to her father's brother after her 
 father's death, and who is also a divorced woman as 
 well as a widow, twice divorced and once widowed. She 
 owns that house they live in, but she was not at home 
 then, having gone down-town to fetch some photographs 
 taken of Mrs. Woodelin's children, the week before. She 
 might return soon, and she might engage me to fix the 
 rear garden." 
 
 At this instant Mrs. Woodelin cried, "Why, here she is. 
 Billie! Bill! Ella! William! Here is grandma," and 
 she ran to the rear of the house, after the children, I 
 supposed, leaving me to face a stout, somewhat under- 
 sized and considerably overdressed lady with bright red 
 hair, who came marching up to the house from the front 
 
 376 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 gate at the street-corner, stopping when near me as if for 
 an explanation, which I gave, I am afraid, quite humbly, 
 not feehng altogether sure of my lady's temper- My 
 humility was effective. She became gracious and almost 
 as talkative as her stepdaughter. She took me to the 
 back part of the lot to show me the rear garden, which 
 had been manured and partly planted with flowers and 
 shrubs, and for the completion of which work she bar- 
 gained with me for some time. Or, I can not call it 
 bargaining, since I had nothing to say about it, and 
 hardly could tell what it was all about, till I understood 
 from her, that I had agreed to finish the rear garden 
 for ten dollars and charge nothing for what I had done 
 so far. 
 
 I had not yet received all my instructions, when Mrs. 
 Woodelin joined us with two children, a small frail and 
 pale looking boy with a narrow head and a long neck 
 and a still smaller and paler girl. An older girl was 
 spoken of as being at school. 
 
 The talk of the two ladies now became a sort of race, 
 till they both at once recollected the photographs which 
 the grandmother produced out of her handbag. It 
 amused me that the little girl should know her picture 
 to be hers immediately and without any prompting, where- 
 as the boy, although certainly two years older than she, 
 had not the least idea whom his photograph, that really 
 was a good likeness, meant to represent. He looked at it 
 long and suspiciously, and at last turning to his mother, 
 said sternly, as if she certainly should know about this : 
 "Mama, that boy has got my clothes on," frowning still 
 more at my laughing loud. Upon the ladies now going 
 indoors, I started my work, but was soon called in by the 
 older lady, whose name is Mrs. Jackson, to join them at 
 their lunch. 
 
 A gentleman of half clerical looks was one of the party. 
 I was not introduced to him. I fancied him to be a 
 
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CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 preacher of some small congregation at a neighboring 
 chapel of some religious denomination, probably a roomer 
 in the house and possibly an admirer of Mrs. Woodelin, 
 although at times he was as attentive to the other lady 
 as to her. And indeed I thought the other as favorably 
 disposed to marry again as the first- And for some rea- 
 sons she might be preferable. She appears to be pos- 
 sessed of more property than that house. She, too, viras 
 the one to do the work and prepare the lunch, while Mrs. 
 Woodelin was entertaining the clerical gentleman in the 
 parlor and I was trying to get the children to talk to me 
 in the second or dining parlor, where the table was set. 
 
 The rolling doors between the two parlors were open. 
 The clerical gentleman was reading to Mrs. Woodelin, 
 something out of a book he had picked up from the 
 center table. He was saying: ''Now this is very fine. 
 'Moonlight in the Mountains.' " And he read it with taste 
 and expression. It described the awakening of the poet, 
 Ic'te at night, or early in the morning and looking out on 
 the wet, white roofs of the village between the dark 
 trees and glistening rocks, with the full moon down, low 
 in the west, reversing all the lights and shadows of the 
 early night, making all the familiar things strange. 
 
 "How very true!" commented the gentleman. "You 
 have no doubt observed the like yourself ; or you can 
 imagine it, if you have not noticed it on any clear morn- 
 ing of the full moon." 
 
 Mrs. Woodelin did not know that she had ever per- 
 ceived anything of the kind, as she had never been in the 
 mountains. 
 
 "The moon in the west," explained he. "You know 
 the full moon rises in the east. When she is in the 
 west the lights and shadows of the early night, the even- 
 ing you know, are reversed, and that makes everything 
 appear unfamiliar." 
 
 Mrs. Woodelin remarked ''that sometimes the moon 
 
 2y^ 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 was clear and sometimes not clear. But it might not be 
 so in the mountains." 
 
 The gentleman closed his eyes as though visions of 
 brightness were dazzling him ; but he made another effort. 
 
 "Have you never awakened, anywhere where you 
 lived," he asked, 'Very early in the morning, before 
 dawn, of course, when the full moon turns down westerly, 
 and noticed how different everything looks compared 
 to how it looked in the moonlight of the evening before? 
 turned round like? because the light comes now from 
 the other side; and unfamiliar, because we are so much 
 more accustomed to the evening moonlight from this 
 side." 
 
 "No," replied the lady, "I always sleep very sound 
 towards morning. And, you know, we used to live on the 
 other side of the street." 
 
 The gentleman had nothing more to say on this point, 
 and I was rather astonished that he did not abstain from 
 all further reading of poetry. He made a second trial, 
 he read another few verses, giving a most excellent de- 
 scription of rain in the country, or rather, a sudden 
 summer shower in a village. And he read this better 
 yet if anything than the first piece, making every point 
 tell. 
 
 "Is it not admirably given?" he asked. "Only that 
 we have, of course no rain in summer in California," 
 he added quickly, afraid, I suppose that Mrs. Woodelin 
 would raise this objection. And he repeated the read- 
 ing and wanted her to say that it was exquisitely done; 
 but she hesitated, till she finally rejoined: "Well, you 
 know I don't like rainy weather." 
 
 But the great surprise of the day and many days was, 
 after the petty lunch was over, what Mrs. Jackson called 
 "our meal," the singing of Mrs. Woodelin. The clerical 
 gentleman had asked her to sing. We remained seated 
 
 279 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 at the taBle while she went to the open piano in the 
 front parlor. 
 
 At the first note I forgot myself and all surroundings. 
 
 A woman, not bright, not charming, in no way impres- 
 sionable, without sensibility to a degree, with a poor 
 presence, an awkwardness of manner, no trace of 
 emotion! All this I would let pass, but that her voice 
 should in speaking be, if not coarse, what is worse : 
 ordinary, flat, expressionless, without any indication of 
 any feeling wdiatever, and that yet she should have the 
 power, as she sang one bar to move me so deeply! 
 
 The sympathetic quality of her voice, her singing voice ; 
 that is it. 
 
 August. 
 
 I worked the whole day at Mrs. Jackson's and finished 
 my job this night. She expressed herself as more than 
 pleased with my work and invited me to call. Were I 
 more conceited I might think that even I as a suitor 
 should not be unwelcome. 
 
 All day long Mrs. Woodelin's singing has been in my 
 ears, in my heart. Perhaps it was well she was out giv- 
 ing lessons and 1 did not hear her sing again to increase 
 the spell. And yet 1 wished for it all day- Certainly I 
 have not heard singing of any appreciable kind for so 
 long, this may well affect me. But I know of other times 
 when such quality of voice aft'ected me the same way. 
 That lady at Fountain Head, the boss's lady ! How many 
 days w^as I not under the spell of her voice when I had 
 heard her sing that day of my trip to Fountahi Head with 
 Hants to visit the boss, my first visit! I think I can 
 recall the impression to this day, this hour. The whole 
 day. Something unreal clings to it, as there is about those 
 days, occurring, I reckon, in every child's life and remem- 
 bered as having been spent in something like fairyland. 
 
 It w^as between the time of Salvador's leaving and the 
 first rains. I know it had not rained any yet at the time 
 
 280 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 of that trip, although it was very late in the season. The 
 first rain of the season must have fallen very shortly after- 
 wards. 
 
 It was on a Sunday. I had known that Hants was 
 going to see the Boss. He had lately been going to see 
 him quite regularly Sundays. But it was only on the day 
 before, while clipping my hair, that France told me that 
 I was to go along. 
 
 It was a terrible strain to have to sit still after this till 
 the hair clipping was done and I could get away and jump 
 with the gladness in me and run to where Hants was 
 mending and tiring some wheels at the forge shed. 
 
 "Well, brother Dick," he called, "what is tickling you 
 so wonderfully this evening?" 
 
 "I am going to Fountain Head with you to-morrow." 
 
 "You are?" And who says so?" 
 
 "Mr. France told me" 
 
 "He did ? And what does he know about it ?" 
 
 "You told him." 
 
 "I did. How do you know ?" 
 
 "Mr. France said so." 
 
 "Oh, it is all Mr. France, is it? He told and he said. 
 Suppose now I say no?" 
 
 That was his way of fooling. I shook my head. He 
 was smiling to himself. "And is that what makes you 
 glad to dance ?" he exclaimed. 
 
 "I am glad to go with you," I answered, which was 
 very true. But I could not tell him, for I do not think I 
 knew enough myself to but suspect all the reasons of the 
 glad anticipations of this trip alive in my mind. Not 
 alone the outing on horseback with him who was always 
 such good company, bright, good-humored and merry, but 
 also the seeing of strange parts. And our Boss! Our 
 great man of all that part of the country, and his beautiful 
 place, I always heard my men talk so much about. Per- 
 haps the best of all, the wearing of my knee breeches and 
 
 281 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 sweater, which so far I had only put on and admired my- 
 self in, a few times in secret ! 
 
 I was up next morning long before the sun, and done 
 with all the morning's work. I believe I had slept but 
 little that night. It was a warm, dewless morning, and 
 it would be a warm day- When the smell of the laurels 
 came up the gulch so strong, the day was sure to be warm. 
 
 I had the horses cleaned and saddled much earlier than 
 necessary, and when I had bathed and washed and dressed 
 myself and appeared before France for inspection at the 
 breakfast table, I was duly reprimanded for my impati- 
 ence and vanity. I had myself almost blushed to think 
 I looked so fine. The sweater was in broad, even bands of 
 gray and red-brown, just suiting the peculiar gray of the 
 knee breeches and the gray of the hat with its black, silk 
 ribband. To be sure, I had to wear my boots, as I had no 
 stockings, although it was the proper thing to wear high 
 shoes and long stockings with knee breeches, like boys in 
 the city. And all the clothes fitted a little tight for a fact. 
 And the breeches were not only tight but short as well, 
 exposing my knees and leaving between the hem of the 
 breeches and the tops of the boots quite a width of bare 
 skin visible. France, indeed, for a minute or two, consid- 
 ered if it would not be better for me to wear overalls, 
 and the suspense while it lasted was nearly unbearable. 
 To wear overalls, when even the best ones were washed 
 out and discolored, never mind how much I scrubbed 
 them, would, I felt, take away half my pleasure. But I 
 was allowed to go dressed as I was, with no alteration, 
 except the turning down of the neckband of my sweater, 
 and with only a double amount of admonitions as to re- 
 spectful behavior, proper manners, attention and obedi- 
 ence. 
 
 "The old woman is mighty particular this morning," 
 said Hants as soon as we were out of earshot. "Now, I 
 will tell you what I think you should do. But don't you 
 
 282 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 do it if you don't want to. For you have as good a right 
 to suit yourself as anybody. Take off your jersey and 
 ride in your undershirt. When we get to Fountain Head 
 take off your undershirt and put on your jersey or sweater, 
 as you call it. Then you won't be so warm and you won't 
 get so wet and dirty. For you may think a sweater very 
 pretty, but it is a beast of a thing to catch dust and hold 
 it- Wait till I help you. Now, wrap the sweater well in 
 the cantle leather. Tie it well." 
 
 He was in great spirits. He had dressed with a good 
 deal more care than he usually did. He generally did 
 when he went to Fountain Head. He looked very well, in 
 spite of the red of the sunburn on his face and neck. He 
 plucked a sprig of green from a bush and stuck it in his 
 hatband and gave me one to do the same, and he set out 
 to sing, which he would constantly attempt with no voice 
 and no ear for music at all, always ending in calling on me 
 to sing for him. So now he told me to sing a little Ger- 
 man country song, which France had sort of translated 
 and made up in Spanish to suit the tune, and had made me 
 learn the words and the air of only a few days ago, a 
 beautiful little melody. 
 
 That was what Hants liked. For he was fond of music, 
 if without any sense of it. He would try to sing along 
 with me, gently swaying his head and uttering uncertain 
 sounds till they went beyond him altogether, and he 
 laughed and gave it up, and commenced again. 
 
 "Was not the morning beautiful," he said. "The 
 trouble was in California the weather was too fine, fine all 
 the time." And how plainly do I remember the sensation 
 of that morning! The gentle westerly breeze of summer, 
 tliat would spring up daily in the forenoon and last till 
 sundown, had ceased to blow for weeks now, everything 
 was standing motionless under the hazy sky, silently 
 awaiting the rain. And this day a softer touch was in the 
 
 283 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 air and the mountains looked clearer and nearer : '*a sure 
 sign that it was going to rain," Hants said. 
 
 We had gone on the road down the hill alongside our 
 gulch where the road went on to Fairlies. I had always 
 had the idea that to get to Fountain Head we should 
 have to keep to this road to Fairlies at least part of the 
 way, if not all, and turn up into the farther hills. But at 
 the hop-yard Hants had taken the trail leading past the 
 bean-field to the narrow accommodation gate in the fence 
 not far from the thicket, where I had been lying hiding 
 when Hants picked me up- And when we had got through 
 this gate we had turned up the road where I had that 
 time seen the buggy come down with that strange man in 
 it and his companion, and go by me. 
 
 It was always most remarkable how quick Hants was 
 of perception and discernment. I was not in the least con- 
 scious that I hesitated, hung back, or gave any sign of 
 uneasiness, trepidation, or that there was any change 
 whatever in my deportment, only in my thoughts and 
 feeling. Yet it must have been, for as soon as we were 
 through the gate and turning to the right he called : 
 
 "What is wrong?" 
 
 I said I had never gone up this road before. 
 
 "Well," he returned, "who said you had? What is 
 wrong with it ?" 
 
 "I had not known that this road was the road to Foun- 
 tain Head," I answered. 
 
 He deliberated quite a few minutes, eyeing me as he 
 would eye people when he wanted to find out something 
 of them. Then he started in to tell me with a great deal 
 of minuteness that "this road was a new road, built some 
 years ago by the Boss from Fountain Head down to the 
 big valley, to connect with the road coming up from the 
 river, from the steamboat landing in the river. Before 
 this new road had been built, the way to get from Foun- 
 tain Head to the river had been a very roundabout one, 
 
 284 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 going from Fountain Head first northerly through the 
 heavy woods and canyons of the upper foothills, then by 
 some old, now deserted mining ground over a big broad- 
 backed mountain, called the Elephant's Rump, or short, 
 the Rump, turning southerly, going along the hillsides 
 down to the point v/here the road from the river landing 
 struck the hills. And that point was the same point where 
 the new road, the road we were on, went down to and met 
 the river road." 
 
 "Don't you know that point?" questioned he. "Did 
 you never go round that way with Salvador ?" 
 
 I told him "No, but Salvador had told me where the 
 road turned off, going to the river through the big val- 
 ley ; there was a bluff there with some oaks." 
 
 "That is the spot," he exclaimed. "That is the place 
 where the three roads meet. There is a spring there and 
 a place to water horses. The old mountain road is no 
 more in use now, except for cordwood teaming. Some 
 Qiinese and Japanese woodchoppers' camps are in the 
 woods near the abandoned mines below the Rump. And 
 from there the wood is hauled to the river landing for the 
 steamers. But the old North road is not in bad condition 
 at all- And, if you like, some Sunday when we have more 
 time, I will take you over that road. We can go right 
 round from where we are, down to the watering spring, 
 up on the hills, over the Rump, by the old mines and the 
 woodchoppers' camps, through the woods to Fountain 
 Head and to this, the point of beginning, clean round. 
 That would be a nice, long ride. And we can stop at one 
 of the woodchopper's camps, so that you can see what 
 that is like. You might have to work in the timber one 
 of these days. But I forgot, you don't like Chinese and 
 Japanese, do you? You did not go near those that were 
 picking our beans and hops, did you? You don't like 
 them, do you?" 
 
 He gave his head a wag and laughed, keeping his eyes 
 
 28s 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 fixed on mine. He laughed again and again, till, being on 
 that fateful road and knowing him to be suspecting some- 
 thing of what was going on in me, he had me feeling pretty 
 uncomfortable; that being just what he wanted, I knew 
 very well. 
 
 The way then to do was not to let on. So by not avoid- 
 ing the subject and feigning indifference, asking casually 
 about timber, cordwood and other things, I soon had put 
 other ideas in his head. Not that you always could tell, 
 if you had succeeded. For he might be talking and jok- 
 ing and drawing you out all the time without your know- 
 ing it. Only when you had got him to talk of himself 
 you could be rather sure that you had turned his observa- 
 tion and mind from you. He liked it so much that gener- 
 ally it was easy to get him started, and after he was well 
 started it was not necessary to do anything but listen. 
 
 Very soon now I had him talking of his life's adven- 
 tures, many of which I certainly had heard him tell before, 
 but which I always with no feigned interest heard him 
 tell again. For he told them very well. I could just see 
 him in my mind, exactly as he was, in all his undertakings 
 and experiences. He told stories too and adventures of 
 others very well. And he could give advice, if he wanted 
 to, good advice, practical : how to do and how not to do 
 to get in with people, get work, make a living, get on, 
 lay by and employ money. 
 
 He had his grievances, too. And this day was the first 
 occasion he took to relate to me in detail the abusive treat- 
 ment from an older brother and sister, he had when a boy 
 been subjected to. And with such bitterness did he re- 
 count it, he seemed almost transformed for me into an- 
 other man for the moment. He felt that himself, I fan- 
 cied, for he charged me to stop him when he would speak 
 of this. 
 
 ''Stop me," he cried. "Tell me I must stop. It only 
 hurts myself. It does not hurt them. It is the injustice 
 
 286 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 that galls ; it turns all my blood to bile when I think of it. 
 If I kept on talking and thinking of it all the time it would 
 kill me. And I won't die. Not yet ! I am going to get 
 even with them first, some day. They ill-treated me till 
 they had all feeling knocked out of me ; and when they 
 found they could not make me any unhappier, they 
 shipped me off to sea with a captain they knew to be a 
 brutal beast of a tyrant, for him to do it. Only he could 
 not- Unhappy! Was it not happiness to be away from 
 them r 
 
 I felt very sorry for him : but he certainly was not 
 unhappy. He might have been, I think, in spite of his 
 great, good spirits, if his nature had not been lacking in 
 tenderness. 
 
 When I think of him now and try to make him out, 
 with a feeling for him, almost as warm as the one with 
 which I regard Mahon I can not recollect one single in- 
 stance of his showing anything that could be called 
 tenderness or fondness. He wanted to see all animals 
 well treated, yet he had no real feeling for them. It 
 was a sort of principle with him. So, too, I certainly 
 had to work hard, and my willingness made me liable 
 to be overworked. He always watched and looked out 
 that I was not taxed beyond my strength and ability ; 
 and so he would see me well fed, sufficiently clothed, 
 given all possible freedom and in no way imposed upon. 
 But I never felt myself personally liked by him, v/ith 
 the sole exception of the instance of this day of this 
 trip. I did not believe, if I should, say, die or be lost 
 that he would be sorry, real sorry, any more than he ever 
 showed compassion when anybody hurt himself. 
 
 Sympathy, I take it, was the right word of what he 
 was deficient in. Everything seemed with him to be a 
 matter of understanding only, not of feeling. And as 
 to me it appears that in order to understand a feeling 
 we must feel it, I should say that while he declared that 
 
 287 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANVS 
 
 all feeling had been knocked out of him, when a boy, 
 it was the other way; all feeling he possessed had been 
 knocked into him, and whatever considerations for other? 
 he now showed was the result of the treatment he had 
 experienced in boyhood after his father's death. 
 
 His mother had been French-Canadian, his father a 
 Pennsylvanian, of German descent, what is commonly 
 called a Pennsylvanian Dutchman, a rancher or farmer, 
 a man of education and standing, but not of great means. 
 Hants had obtained a good education and had lived a 
 happy homelife up to the time his father and mother had 
 died in quick succession. Then his twice as old half- 
 brother and half-sister had soon made life at home un- 
 bearable to him and finally had driven him to go to sea. 
 
 On his first voyage from Philadelphia to Liverpool, he 
 had been cast away on the Irish coats and badly hurt in 
 the wreck, but taken care of and nursed back to health 
 in a poor Irish family. And that always made him praise 
 the Irish people. Indeed he had in that time acquired 
 some of their way of talking as well as of their manner, 
 so that he was often taken for an Irishman, which never 
 failed to please him. 
 
 On his recovery he had shipped and gone to Australia 
 in an English ship as ordinary seaman, getting good 
 wages. But he had never liked the sea, and so he had 
 left the vessel in Australia, staying ashore there for all of 
 two years, working at anything he could get to do along 
 shore, at squatter stations, in mines, too. He always 
 regretted he had not remained in Australia, which he 
 called "the country of freehandedness and sport." Once 
 he had got in with sporting people altogether and had 
 taken up professional boxing. But after that he had 
 come to California where he had remained ever since 
 and where he had tried almost everything he could lay 
 his hands to, to get ahead, mostly farming and mining. 
 Somewhere he had fallen in with France, an old Ger- 
 
 288 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 man school master of finished training as of good breed- 
 ing, honesty and purity of mind, who had for some rea- 
 son left his native country and come his way to these 
 parts of the world. They had worked together and 
 been partners in mining claims, till having no luck and 
 no luck, they had made up their minds to give up min- 
 ing for good and try farming for themselves, on shares. 
 And they were now so trying it. He did not know what 
 would come of it. 
 
 "He always had the conviction," Hants concluded, 
 ''that he was going to become rich yet; one way or an- 
 other. Then he would go home." 
 
 The sister sometimes wrote to him; once or twice a 
 year. I think she wrote for money. And I believe he 
 sent her some money whenever she wrote for it. The 
 brother was not a good manager. The family place 
 or farm, somewhere in Southern Pennsylvania was so 
 heavily mortgaged they would have to give it up before 
 long, leaving them penniless. 
 
 "Yes!" cried Hants, "I shall go back with money, 
 plenty of money. And I shall buy the mortgages. That 
 will take but a small part of my money. And when all 
 is mine, I shall invite my brother and sister to come 
 and stay there. And I shall tell them, 'When I was a 
 young boy you ill-treated me : you took away my rights, 
 you took away every better feeling, all faith, all sense 
 of justice, everything; and then you cast me out; now 
 I give you this place of mine to be yours, free of all 
 encumbrance, for you to live here to enjoy yourselves at 
 your ease and comfort all your lives in return for what 
 you did to me. Not because I love you, but because I 
 hate you and despise you, and of knowing that if you 
 were not the things you are, you would starve rather 
 than receive sustenance at my hands ! And when I have 
 told them that I shall go away, never to see them again. 
 For if I stay there it will only be of ill consequence to 
 
 289 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 myself. I like to be a little mean, just mean enough, 
 but not enough to make it react on myself and spoil 
 what I am." 
 
 We had gone, keeping the horses at a walk, slowly 
 all the while up-hill, taking some trails by the side of 
 the wagon-road, that were not dusty. We had come to a 
 higher, narrow ridge, along which the road ran straight 
 and nearly level. From the ridge-road the hill-side 
 fell to the outside abruptly down to where in the depth 
 was the green of a creek. The opposite hills were low 
 and flattish ; over them the valley spread out, extend- 
 ing to the mountains, the farthest peaks showing above 
 the level as above the horizon of the ocean. 
 
 At the ending of the level ridge the road turned round 
 a stony butte into a sort of pass, where we could see 
 behind us our open country of the rounding hills, with 
 beyond the great inland valley of California, and ahead 
 of us at once another country of deep defiles and gulches, 
 divided by ridges with rocky breaks and spurs and cliffs 
 gradually rising to greater heights, all grown with trees 
 and bushes and fields of bright, green chaparral ; above the 
 crowding pines, the peaks and crests of mountains. 
 
 Some of the peaks I thought I had seen before. But 
 I could not tell. I hardly knew what I saw. It was all 
 different. But yet I knew this was the country I had 
 seen from the other, the upper end, from the top of the 
 broad-backed mountain I had been on in the buggy. 
 Somewhere below here between all these ridges and rocky 
 hill-chains before us must be the canyon I had come down. 
 
 We were riding fast now to keep ahead of the dust 
 of the road which was dug off the hillside to a good 
 width and an easy grade, gently rising, winding in and 
 out along the slope, meeting all the little dry ravines 
 and gulches and stony twistings of the ground. At one 
 place where it almost doubled on itself a spring came 
 down the ravine and there all was rank vegetation under 
 
 290 
 
CHRONICLES OP MAXUEL ALANUS 
 
 the crowded trees. I smelled tlie pines in the heat. And 
 suddenly I heard the hammering of the woodpecker and 
 the cooing of the dove and for the first time again the 
 noise of the surf in the tops of the pines. 
 
 We passed many more springs. Hants explained to 
 me that it was on account of the many springs that the 
 place was called Fountain Head. This whole section of 
 the slope, he said, was full of live springs, and the Boss 
 was using many of them for irrigating. 
 
 "Now we ought to be able to see Fountain Head," he- 
 exclaimed. ''Yes, there it is," pointing to a thick clump 
 of green under a knob on the mountainside, grown with 
 tall timber in a bunch. It was rather farther away than 
 I had expected. But much farther away, above it, bulg- 
 ing out over the distant trees, sharply visible against the 
 sky lay the broad-backed mountain I knew so well. 
 
 "Yes! That is the Rump." cried Hants. "You are 
 looking right at it. And those two yellow streaks this 
 side are stretches of the old North road. It is not very 
 far." 
 
 Presently we came to clearings changing again totally 
 the looks of the country. There were orchards, vine- 
 yards, fields, plantations, all well kept. The roads were 
 lined with young walnut and chestnut trees. Fenced off 
 yards began to show themselves and buildings : barns. 
 Chinese huts, sheds and stables. No people were mov- 
 ing about, it being Sunday : I suppose they were all in 
 their rooms. 
 
 A lot of dogs came rushing at us as we entered the 
 large, general farm-yard, but they gave over their bark- 
 ing and became quite social when a man came from the 
 upper end of the yard and spoke to them. He addressed 
 Hants, as we were getting ofiF our horses and looked 
 rather hard at me. He was one of the foremen of the 
 place I afterwards learned. T had felt sure that he coulcl 
 not be the Boss. He went away again shortly. 
 
 291 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 In the farm-yard stood a few trees. Some of the 
 smaller trees had been sawed off and the stumps left 
 standing to serve for hitching posts or some such pur- 
 pose. Different out-buildings stood on both sides of the 
 yard. At the upper end was a long, one-story, frame 
 house with windows and battened doors, which I took to 
 be the dining and sleeping place of the white help. I 
 saw some people there. It looked as if they were at 
 dinner. Back of this building rose the hillside with the 
 round knob we had seen from the road. Two little 
 streams of water came from there and dropped into a 
 little stone pond in front of the house at the upper end. 
 
 The lower end of the yard, where we were, was closed 
 across by a high, smooth-clipped, dense hedge of cedar 
 and cypress with two solid gates in it, like doors. Be- 
 hind this hedge was the big garden or park with the 
 dwelling house where the Boss lived, Hants told me. 
 He had helped me to change my clothes and pull my 
 sweater on. He told me to unsaddle the horses, put 
 them in the corral and follow him. He was going in to 
 the Boss. 
 
 Opposite the big gate by which we had entered the 
 yard from the road was another big gate and close to it 
 a corral, where I put the horses. I hung around there 
 a little to take a look at things, outside this other gate. 
 It opened on a road and I judged that that was the 
 old North road which Hants had spoken of. It did not 
 look so very unused. Quite the contrary! A large 
 orange orchard bordered one side of it. A branch-road 
 led through other plantations downhill, turning to the 
 right. I could follow it where in the lower parts it 
 formed the border of what seemed to me must be the 
 bottom of the park or garden of the Boss. Fine trees 
 stood there. Behind them I saw the branch-road again, 
 turning more to the right on rising ground. And I 
 thought it must form a regular bight or loop round the 
 
 292 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 park and connect back with the Five Oaks road we had 
 come on; so that one could get away that way. We had 
 passed when we came, several gates and side roads ; one 
 of them might be this branch-road. 
 
 I went to follow Hants through the gate in the hedge, 
 he had gone in at, when as I opened it from the outside, 
 he opened it from the inside, coming for me. 
 
 "What keeps you?" he called. And at that moment 
 I heard a voice that I had heard before; a peculiar 
 high-pitched voice and a squealy, squeaky laugh, the 
 voice and the laugh of the man that rode in the buggy 
 with the strange man when they passed me where I lay 
 in the bush by the road-side. 
 
 'What is the matter?" asked Hants, stepping out to 
 me, shutting the door after him. "What ails you?" 
 I don't know that I did anything but just stand still. 
 He took my hand and held it close in his, clasping 
 my wrist with the other. He claimed he could, not 
 always, but very often tell what were a person's thoughts, 
 if he had hold of a person's hand that way. 
 
 "Now, by God," he said, "I can not make this out. 
 But I tell you, you are mistaken. The Boss is. not the 
 man. He can not be the man. And he does not know 
 you at all. I have told him nothing about you. Yes, 
 I told him, time ago, that I had gotten you at a ranchery 
 in the mountains from your folks. I did not want to 
 tell him the truth. By God, if I had known this. I 
 should have never brought you here to this fix. But 
 it is too late now. He wanted to see you, and I told 
 him I had brought you. He knows you are here. He 
 wants ^o see you. You will have to brace up and face 
 it. Face it, God damn it, face it whatever it is! It 
 can not be so bad. Nobody is there but the Boss and 
 his lady. They would not let anybody hurt you any 
 more than I would. And you are wrong, I tell you, 
 dead wrong about him. Hold on now! I won't urge 
 
 293 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 you by another word. Make your fight your own way 
 and I will help you all I can ! Do what you want to do ! 
 I will stand by you. If you have got reasons why you 
 don't want to go in here, don't do it! I don't know 
 what you have done. If you want to go home, get on 
 your horse and go! I will make it all right. I will 
 make it straight. And I won't give you away neither. 
 Nobody shall suspect anything, or think any the less of 
 you, too. But if you can, if you can do it, if you can, 
 face it now ! Then it will be over ; and, do you mind ? 
 You will have to face it some time." 
 
 I knew only too well that I should have to face it 
 some time. 
 
 He let go my hand. He opened the door. T walked 
 ahead. I heard the door shut behind me. The light 
 of day turned sickish yellow ; a sort of humming was 
 in my ears. I felt the pain between my eyes I had felt 
 that time on the mountain-bridge, when the man leveled 
 his gun at me. 
 
 I was standing at the foot of a broad flight of steps, 
 leading up to a large veranda. At the top, on the ve- 
 randa stood a man talking. He was certainly the man T 
 had seen riding with that strange man in the buggy ; black- 
 bearded, square-shouldered, talking in a high-pitched 
 voice, laughing with a squeal ; only I should have thought, 
 he must be larger, taller. He was quite short. 
 
 He was the Boss. 
 
 I could not say what it was, I suppose it was that the 
 climax had been reached and passed, but as soon as I 
 actually saw and stood before the man, I felt an almost 
 instantaneous relief. The light grew whiter, I smelled 
 the odors of many flowers, I heard the splashing of 
 water ; flowering shrubs stood all around ; creepers with 
 beautiful blossoms were growing all over the veranda 
 and covering the whole front of the house. 
 
 Hants was standing to one side on the steps, half-wav 
 
 294 
 
CHRONICLES Of MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 up between the Boss and me. He was steadily looking 
 at me. 
 
 The Boss wanted to know my name. 
 
 Hants said they w-ere calling me Dickie. 
 
 "Oh," squeaked the Boss, 'that is a bird's name. I 
 have a canary called Dickie." And he called ''Dickie! 
 Dickie!" standing on one foot holding up his hands flat 
 and flapping them, making a noise with his lips and 
 tongue, half whispering, half whistling. 
 
 Then he wanted to know, why I did not come up the 
 steps; was I afraid? "No," answered Hants; "afraid I 
 was not, but perhaps I did not come up on the veranda 
 because I had not been asked to." 
 
 On this the Boss seemed to be a little struck and 
 for a moment silenced, when he quickly called to me 
 about half a dozen times to come up, and ran down the 
 steps to take my hand and lead me up to the veranda, 
 as if I had been a little child. 
 
 Hants repeated, that I was not afraid ; he would say 
 it to my face ; I was spunky enough ; only at times I was 
 nervous. 
 
 "Nonsense," crowed the Boss, "who had ever heard 
 of a boy like me being nervous." And he ran his finger 
 in my side to tickle me, crying "where was I nervous, 
 here, or there, or there?" then acting as though he had 
 burnt his finger, shaking it and blowing on it, and again 
 poking it in my side, squeaking to see me twitch and 
 screeching "Afraid! Afraid!" 
 
 I had more than once heard Hants in speaking about 
 the Boss say that he always wanted to act the clown. 
 I had not understood that before, but now I thought 
 I did. I looked at Hants, who lifted his left shoulder 
 at me for an answer and winked his eye. 
 
 "Yes!" reiterated Hants to the Boss, "I was nervous. 
 He would not know what else to call it. And also I 
 would see ghosts sometimes nights, in my sleep." 
 
 295 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 This, now, was one of those instances of covert ob- 
 servation with which Hants not seldom, casually, greatly 
 surprised me. At that moment it did not so much affect 
 me, nor perhaps strike me as so very strange, occupied 
 as I was with the present. But how came he to know 
 this? He must have been watching me in my sleep. 
 
 The Boss inquired what other bad points there were 
 about me, and Hants told him that one very bad point 
 about me was that I never would cry out when I was 
 being hurt, or in danger, or any fix. In that way I was 
 a regular Indian, 
 
 The Boss immediately gave a war-whoop and stamped 
 his feet to imitate an Indian war-dance. "What more," 
 he demanded. 
 
 Well, went on Hants, I could do some tricks, throw 
 handsprings, walk on my hands and for a small kid 
 could use my fists pretty well, which he, too, was teach- 
 ing me himself a little, now and then, having put up a 
 bag for me to punch. And he told me to put up my 
 hands ; and as the Boss in his meant-to-be funny manner 
 squared off against me, bending down, hopping from one 
 foot to the other. Hants made signs for me to give the 
 Boss a good punch on the nose. But that of course I 
 would not do, nor anything like it. 
 
 The next thing I had to do was to go through my 
 gymnastics. Being out of practice I did not succeed 
 very well in that, till I recollected a trick I used to 
 know, which the boys on the old wharf used to call 
 making a crab, or walking like a crab. It was to lay 
 yourself down flat on the back, with arms extended up, 
 straight like the legs, and then to raise the body off the 
 ground on hands and feet, arching over fully and walk- 
 ing that way, sideways or fore and aft, jumping up with 
 throwing a somersault onto your feet. 
 
 I had to pull off my boots to do this, but I did it all 
 
 296 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 right and I was glad I did on account of Hants. It was 
 like regaining my reputation. 
 
 Getting up and turning round, I found a lady standing 
 behind me. She must be the lady Hants had mentioned. 
 She was darker than I. The darkness of the skin on her 
 arms and breast showed through the thin stuff of her 
 gown of pale blue. Her hair, black and glossy, was 
 parted in the center quite plainly and hung down her 
 back in two long, thick braids with bows of pale, blue 
 satin at the ends. At her wrists she had small rosettes 
 of the same pale, blue satin, and a large rosette of the 
 stuff of her gown was fastened under her left ear to a 
 pale, blue, satin ribband round her throat, and in the 
 middle of the rosette stuck a dark, red rose. The pallor 
 which the pale blue of her dress gave her was very be- 
 coming to her, and the dark red rose just finished every- 
 thing. As she stood against the dusky background of 
 the matted, creeping plants enclosing the veranda, she 
 was a picture which in me has never been effaced, al- 
 though I can not say that I remember her features or 
 countenance, only her mouth. It was rather large, with 
 fine teeth and full lips. 
 
 They were all speaking Spanish now, which I found 
 Hants spoke tolerably well. At Five Oaks, in opposition 
 I dare say to old France, he spoke only English. That 
 is once in a while he and France conversed in Ger- 
 man, when they had something to say to each other they 
 did not want me to understand. I knew Hants could 
 speak French too, and I had thought that he must know 
 some Spanish. 
 
 The lady appeared very glad to see him. I noticed 
 a great many glances and smiles pass between them. 
 
 The Boss had taken her by the elbows behind, and 
 turned her towards me. He wanted to romp with her. 
 He said he would teach her to walk like a crab, push- 
 ing her round, making believe he wanted her to lay her- 
 
 297 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 self down on her back, telling her how to do it. And 
 he threw himself down, as though he had fallen in throw- 
 ing a handspring. She was a little vexed at this silly 
 business, I could see. The Boss had torn her sleeve, too. 
 To me she was very kind. When Hants and the Boss 
 wanted to have me go through my gymnastics again, 
 she forbade it, saying I was heated enough, putting the 
 palms of her cool hands to the sides of my face, lightly 
 pressing my cheeks, which I liked very much. 
 
 The Boss had gone to dress for dinner. Hants had 
 told me to go and sit on the veranda steps and look at 
 the pictures in a picture book he had fetched out from a 
 room opening on the veranda. He and the lady had 
 gone away together along the veranda round the corner 
 of the house. I looked at the pictures, but a little foun- 
 tain, playing in a little, round pond right in front of the 
 veranda steps drew more of my attention. It was very 
 pretty. It made such a pretty, splashing sound. I had 
 never seen anything like it. I knew though that water 
 out of a pipe would squirt up quite high. 
 
 In the pond were little fishes with golden-reddish 
 scales. I had heard of such fishes. How natural it was 
 to see fishes. But these were not for fishing. 
 
 The sun was very warm. There was no breeze. Bees 
 were humming everywhere ; flies were buzzing and 
 butterflies were tacking about ; many hummingbirds went 
 whirring by ; dragonflies and moths came drifting over 
 the plants. The ground was close-set with flowers and 
 shrubs were standing so crowded, I could not tell them 
 apart : and so high, I could look over only the nearest 
 ones. To one side it was a little more open, where a 
 walk came up from lower parts. 
 
 After a long time the Boss came back, and he was so 
 nicely dressed I could not take my eyes off him. He 
 had on yellow shoes and pale blue socks with brown dots. 
 And so was his shirt pale blue with brown dots. His 
 
 298 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 pants and coat were of white flannel with a yellow scarf. 
 He too, wore a dark red rose and him, too, it became 
 very well, stuck in the buttonhole of his coat. 
 
 As I was looking him all over Hants came on the 
 veranda round the house-corner. He laughed out loud 
 and shouted : "Tliat is right. Stand still and let the boy 
 take you all in. Now he is happy. That is what he likes. 
 Fine clothes." And till he had spoken I never knew that 
 that was very true. 
 
 A Chinaman, all in white, came and told us that dinner 
 was ready. I had hurriedly to go with Hants to wash 
 my hands and fix up, in the bathroom, which was a very 
 fine room with lots of polished things in it. And ad- 
 joining it was a bedroom which was finer still with a 
 beautiful large bed and windows with red curtains down 
 to the floor, opening on to the veranda w^here it came 
 round the corner of the house. But there were so many 
 fine things in the house I could not begin to see them all. 
 
 In the dining room we sat at a round table, and the 
 Chinaman was handing round the things. I remember 
 how the Boss put his fork in his soup, telling me to do 
 the same, because that was the proper way to eat soup. 
 
 After dinner a good deal more took place. I had to 
 read out of some books, Spanish and English, which latter, 
 Hants interposed, he had made me pick up. He wanted 
 to show off with me, I knew. I took great pains to 
 make no mistakes, and when I was done the Boss said 
 I should keep the one book, which was the picture-book 
 T had looked at before. I thought he meant for me to 
 keep the book to look at the pictures till we went away, 
 and I liked it because the pictures were very beautiful, 
 and some were funny. But presently the Boss called me 
 to let the book be and come with him through the 
 grounds. Hants had told him. I suppose, that T knew 
 something of gardening. Probably Hants had before 
 
 299 
 
CHROXICLES OF MAMUIiL ALAXUS 
 
 this talked and told about me, even if nothing more than 
 that. 
 
 The situation of the place was very fine. The ground 
 went in slopes and terraces to the bottom, where the 
 narrow road I had seen branching off the north road 
 came turning back through orchards and formed the 
 border of the park, rising again to the south along a 
 hedgerow. At the bottom the Boss had staked out work 
 enough to occupy several men several years. And here 
 he very soon had me working, working a long time while 
 he was standing over me, acting quite rational and sen- 
 sible now, dropping back only now and then into his 
 way of wanting to be funny. 
 
 We were yet at it when Hants appeared, walking along 
 the branch-road from the south, where he had been 
 looking for us in the fields for over an hour, he asserted. 
 In his blunt v/ay he exclaimed : 
 
 "Well Dick, you are having a fine holiday to-day, 
 are you not? Nothing but pleasure and amusement all 
 day." 
 
 It made the Boss turn, red and stop my work, adding 
 he would like to have me work for him every day, if 
 my men would let me come. 
 
 "No," cried Hants, "that will never do. You will 
 work him too hard, he is too willing for }'ou to boss. 
 But he can speak for himself. Dick! Do you want to 
 change ?" 
 
 It made me smile. I did not say anything because I 
 thought the Boss really felt a little bad about Hants' 
 implied reproofs. He kept making excuses for having 
 set me to work. So to make him feel a little different 
 I asked him to let me have two or three young rose- 
 plants, which had been discarded as of too poor a quality. 
 France, one day not long ago, had said he wished we 
 had some roses for our flower-boxes. For we had none. 
 But I did not tell the Boss this. He was so awfully 
 
 300 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 pleased at my request, he did not know, it seemed, 
 what at all to do. He insisted the discarded plants were 
 too poor. He took me to the plant-house where he put 
 some fine roses in pots up for me in a bundle to secure 
 behind my saddle. 
 
 I liked him very much now. It appeared to have gone 
 out of my head for the time that he was that companion, 
 in that buggy, of that other man. 
 
 And now going back to the house, I heard music. At 
 first I could hardly think what it was, it enchanted me 
 so. Only some chords on a guitar. The lady of the 
 Boss was sitting on the veranda, the guitar in her arms. 
 And now she sang. It sounded in me, I did not know 
 what moved me. I had no thought. It gave a pain and 
 was so sweet. Her voice was not altogether clear, 
 but that made it sound the more of sorrow ; like telling 
 of some void in the heart. Forever! 
 
 Afterwards the lady called me to her. Hants had 
 told her of the song France had taught me, and I had to 
 sing it to her accompaniment. When I was through, 
 they all applauded. She wanted to show me how to 
 accompany myself. She was sitting on a large chair. 
 I stood in front of her. She turned me round, put the 
 guitar in my arms and her arms round mine from be- 
 hind, placing my hands and fingers, first showing me how 
 to press and pick the strings to the chords, and then letting 
 me try my hand alone, keeping her arms so that I felt 
 them around me, and the touch of her warm bosom. 
 
 She said she thought I must have played the guitar be- 
 fore. On Hants mentioning that France, who was very 
 musical and could play several different instruments had 
 a guitar, perfectly sound, but no strings, she instantly 
 sent the Boss in to the house to fetch some strings she 
 had to spare and gave them to me to give to France for 
 his guitar, charging me to tell him that he must teach 
 me all the music he knew. 
 
 301 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Presently the Boss had gotten hold of the guitar and 
 was giving us a great performance, thrumming and 
 hitting the instrument so hard I thought he would surely 
 break it; striking nothing but discords, doing all kinds 
 of skippings, striking attitudes, bowings and scrapings, 
 squeaking and screeching. I was glad when the China- 
 man came and said supper was ready and the Boss had 
 
 to stop. 
 
 Hants was for leaving without supper, as we had a 
 long ride before us, with the day all but done. But that 
 would not satisfy the Boss. We had to come in and sit 
 down to supper. And then he claimed to be very dis- 
 contented at our eating no more than we did, especially 
 I. Though I am sure I ate a great deal, considering 
 that we had dined so late, I being in a way always ready 
 to eat. At the end then he urged me to say if there was 
 anything I should like to take along of the eatables on 
 the table, and I asked to be allowed to take some cookies 
 and pieces of candy I had left on my plate, when the 
 Boss immediately wanted to give me all there was of that 
 in the house. I had quite a package as it was, including 
 the picture book, which I now found was to be mine 
 altogether, all well fastened behind my saddle. 
 
 To France's instructions I thanked the Boss and his 
 lady for their kind entertainment and the presents. I 
 think I should have done that in any case of my own 
 self. They were most kind and told me I must come 
 again soon. 
 
 I did come to Fountain Head again, but not soon, not 
 for a year. And I never saw the lady again. 
 
 So it was now good-day and good-by. Soon we were 
 past the farm-yards and orchards and clearings. The 
 wooded mountain-side was growing dusky. Insects were 
 making a noise. A couple of bats kept ahead of us, flap- 
 ping fore and back. Tree frogs were singing. Near the 
 springs the mosquitoes were swarming. In the sky, 
 
 302 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 opposite to where the sun had gone down, a pinkish flush 
 was dying out, and in it shone the first faint sparkle of a 
 star. 
 
 At first we had spoken a little. Hants had asked: 
 "Those things you got, you are going to give to the old 
 man?" I had not intended before to give the picture- 
 book to France, but since Hants seemed to presume that 
 I should, I supposed it was no more than right for me 
 to do so and I said, yes. 
 
 ''Yes, he has a sweet tooth," Hants continued, "but 
 how did you find that out?" 
 
 "You told me." 
 
 "I? Never! When?" 
 
 "Just now." 
 
 "Oh, you are getting smart," he cried. "That is what 
 she said. She said you were smart and I must look out 
 for you. But she liked you. She told me she liked 
 you." 
 
 "She likes you," I exclaimed with emphasis. 
 
 He laughed, quite tickled. But when he asked, how 
 did I know, I did not want to tell how I had observed her 
 looking at him, and what more I had noticed, and was 
 silent. 
 
 He asked once again, how did I know, but then he 
 said : "No, that is right, keep your mouth shut. I mean 
 It," he repeated after a moment's consideration, lapsing 
 into silence himself. And it was a silent ride nearly all 
 the rest of the way back. 
 
 Certainly I do not suppose I meditated on the occur- 
 rences of the day, nor speculated on their effects. But 
 so young was I and so little, so ignorant or not under- 
 standing and inexperienced, however vague at best and 
 always unconsciously borne, there must have been 
 thought, consideration, calculation even, stirred up by the 
 day's events to occupy my mind. 
 
 I now knew the Boss to be an acquaintance, a friend 
 
 303 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 of that strange man. I knew him enough to know that 
 he would never wittingly do anything to harm me ; but I 
 also knew now that the odds of my meeting that strange 
 man were much greater, the danger of my falling into 
 his hands much more imminent, our range much closer 
 than I had estimated, and that I must more than ever 
 be on my guard and keep my wits about me. 
 
 Night soon had fully come, the stars glowing big and 
 small as seen near and far in the purplish hollow, and 
 all things were hushed. 
 
 At one point the light of Five Oaks came in sight, 
 the one single light in all the country round; so sud- 
 denly, and then so quickly gone again. It made me sing 
 out: "There!" 
 
 Hants had seen it, or saw it at the same moment. 
 "Yes," he said, "there it is. Home again! And are you 
 glad to get back?" 
 
 I was glad. How friendly that little light had shone! 
 And I had those few things for old France and knew 
 he would like to get them. And I would see the animals 
 again. I could hear the dogs now barking. And I was 
 glad of other things I could not have told about. This 
 day had shown me that I had a friend in Hants. He 
 never had been unfriendly to me, as he was always good- 
 spirited and good-humored. Only I always at bottom felt 
 that he cared no more for me than for anybody. He 
 liked to make me feel badly as much as he liked to mor- 
 tify everybody. If he in general took my part at home, 
 he did it more to oppose old France and aggravate the 
 wounding of his feelings. 
 
 Now to-day he had made me feel as if he did truly 
 have some heart for me, and it made me feel grateful, 
 so that I could even transfer to him some of my al- 
 legiance to Mahon who hereafter for many months in 
 my thinking-out of stories not seldom changed places 
 with him. As I indeed have often thought, there was 
 
 304 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 some similarity in their manner of conduct, especially 
 sometimes in their way of speaking. 
 
 And I was no less glad I had come to know the Boss. 
 I was very glad I had ''faced it," as Hants had told me 
 to do. And how right had he been! It was over now, 
 and I was posted. I liked the Boss. He was a good man. 
 
 The lady I liked as w^ell ; but it was different. I 
 could fancy I could feel her hands on my cheeks yet, 
 smooth and soft, and the swelling warmth of her bosom. 
 
 And her voice! 
 
 Something of it seemed to be in the night that was so 
 beautiful, around me, strange, drawing me away, un- 
 known, over to the sea, to a place where I was all alone. 
 The surf sounded. From out the gloom on the water 
 something came to look at me. Two beautiful, sad, 
 blind eyes ! 
 
 I had long since learned that I could keep off my 
 nightmare by giving myself up to my homesick long- 
 ings, calling up my father's tenderest embrace and all 
 that was most dear to me in memory to shield me. As 
 though I could give my fond craving such complete pos- 
 session of my breast that nothing else could gain a hold. 
 Generally too, I could tell beforehand if my nightmare 
 would be coming of a night. And often have I fought 
 it, and conquered, too. But this night I fought in vain. 
 The dizziness, the fire, the horrible shapes, the pursuit! 
 It w^ent on the whole night. 
 
 France the next day complained of my dulness and 
 blamed it on my having too good a time the day before. 
 
 August. 
 
 So far as getting work goes and pay, this has been 
 the worst day I have experienced. I have earned only 
 one-quarter of a dollar for watering and trimming a large 
 lawn of a large private residence early this morning. 
 At the place was a regular gardner. but he was too lazy 
 or too grand to do it himself. The stable-boy whose 
 
 305 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 business apparently it was, having left or been sent away, 
 the gardener gave me the job when I appHed to him for 
 work. I took him to be the owner of the property as I 
 saw him at the front gate in the bronze fence, he looked 
 such an exquisite, wearing the most stylish clothes. The 
 owner, a Mr. Stillborn, who shortly after I had come, 
 left the house to go to his business, was a reserved little 
 man, indifferently dressed, who when the gardener told 
 him he had set me to work and I was to receive twenty- 
 five cents, listened almost deferentially, put his hand in 
 his pocket and handed me from his purse a dime and 
 three nickles, bidding me, ''Good morning, Sir!" as he 
 walked away. 
 
 Later the lady of the house came out into the grounds. 
 She must be older than her husband, whom she somewhat 
 resembles. But only outwardly. She spoke and acted 
 with great bossiness. She is quite rude and without know^- 
 ing it. 1 meaa she is naturally that way, unconsciously, 
 not intentionally. She don't want to insult, to hurt any- 
 body's feelings, but she has no judgment. When she heard 
 that her husband had paid me, she called him a "ninny." 
 When I laid down the garden hose with the sprinkler for a 
 moment to root out some weed in the grass, .she cried: 
 "That is right, leave your work ! Throw down the hose, let 
 everything go, you have got your money in your pocket." 
 And when I was through with my work and started to 
 take the hose to a little hose cart standing near the rear 
 gate of the yard, to coil it up, she shouted: "Where are 
 you going? There is nothing for you to get there. And," 
 she added, as I moved to go away and tipped my hat to 
 her, "you need not come back, thinking you are going to 
 be an institution here. W'e have got all the loafers we 
 want about the place." 
 
 Tliere was that about her that one could look at her 
 roughness, so to call it, as merely her way. But I must 
 have looked rather conscious, I believe, for I had been 
 
 306 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 thinking I might come back and try and work myself into 
 a pretty good job. 
 
 After that I walked and walked. I must have asked 
 for work at five or six dozen places. What hard work to 
 hunt for work, hardest of all work. If it was not for that 
 exuberance of spirits which carried me through the first 
 days, and for my falling in with Mr. and Mrs. De Lang, I 
 don't know what I should have done, or be doing now. 
 
 Ullard had a saying: If it were not for sickness and old 
 age, those people would be best off who would earn each 
 day no more than what would support each day. There 
 would be no residue of money to hoard, no property to 
 worry over and to pay taxes on, to feed the army of tax 
 eaters, and I used to think this wondrously wise. 
 
 Now, I think it is just one of those double-eyed sayings 
 that he made use of so many. Best off? I could imagine 
 such best-off people only as people in the quite later days 
 of life, when the desires are all cooled and the springs of 
 the heart dried up ; when habit has taken the place of all 
 impulses and hope has turned to what? Indifference? 
 Insenation ? and nothing remains but the daily run of 
 routine work to fill out the vacuum of life. 
 
 If I at this time, now, had to give up hoping, wishing 
 for something, could I live? And how could I ever find 
 my brother, except by merest accident, unless I had saved 
 money, some money? At least to get the first little sum, 
 with which to make a beginning at some trading or busi- 
 ness or something to make more, enough to start search- 
 ing for him ! 
 
 August. 
 
 Yesterday morning, passing by Mrs. Joe's place, the 
 door being open, I looked in and was called in by her and 
 told "to go ahead and fix up the little front yard," her 
 husband having told her to give me the job should she 
 see me. 
 
 307 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 "You will have to do two dollars' worth of work and 
 no more," she said. ''Joe left only two dollars for you." 
 
 I replied I supposed it would do. ''x\ll right," she 
 rejoined, "I will give you the money now. Mama is 
 coming this forenoon. I am going to the theatre, the mat- 
 inee. If she asks what your charge is, just say that it was 
 in the agreement; the other day, you know. The grass 
 seed and the other things are in the cellar." 
 
 She wore that dirty and torn wrapper, more dirty and 
 worse torn than before. And the interior of the house 
 already bore many traces of going back to original dis- 
 order. While v.'e were yet talking, the mother came. Al- 
 most before she was in the house she had taken off her 
 hat and cape. Then, putting on a large apron, she imme- 
 diately went to work, washing up the breakfast things, 
 cleaning the stove, making the beds, sweeping, dusting; 
 scolding indeed at the same time continually, but doing 
 smartly all the work she was scolding about not having 
 been done already, before this, by Mrs. Joe; even pre- 
 venting her when she made a move to do some of the 
 work herself. 
 
 And thus I saw and heard her all day, Mrs. Joe fol- 
 lowing her about, trailing her dirty clothes over every- 
 thing, doing nothing but talk back in her peevish way, till 
 she finally had to get ready to go to the theatre, after we 
 first had lunch together. I was invited to stay for dinner, 
 too, to which the father of Mrs. Joe was expected, the ar- 
 rangement having been especially made, so as to give Mrs. 
 Joe the chance to go to the theatre in the afternoon. But 
 I declined the invitation and went away when my work 
 was done, not to the entire satisfaction of the mother, who 
 seemed to think that I should keep on doing something 
 till it was quite dark, to fulfill my agreement. 
 
 After a plentiful dinner at my Italian restaurant I was 
 undecided w^hether I should walk the streets and make 
 observations, or go home. It seemed natural to turn up 
 
 308 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 my hill, and I arrived at our gate togetlier with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Carpenter, who were returning from a short shop- 
 ping expedition. For the first time T accepted Mrs. Car- 
 penter's invitation to enter their dwelling, in which Mr. 
 Carpenter joined in his hearty, if not altogether, sincere 
 way, calling out : "Yes, get your mandolin and come in ! 
 Wife w^ill make us a glass of hot lemonade. Probably 
 you would like something a little stronger, but she does 
 not allow anything stronger drunk in the house. Nice, 
 hot lemonade, good for rheumatism ! Ha, ha !" 
 
 We had our lemonade and music and conversation. 
 They were this morning going to visit their friends in 
 Oakland. They did not invite me to accompany them 
 this time. I think Mr. Carpenter wanted to, but his wife 
 kept him from broaching the subject. It was quite a 
 comfortable evening. 
 
 How soon one is drawn into some fellowship-inter- 
 course with some one ! 
 
 ''Man is a social animal," Ullard used to say, as many 
 before him, I reckon. 
 
 This morning I went to the Ferry Station where I 
 met Mr. Dugan. He said, business was extremely good ; 
 and when I asked for a morning newspaper, he gave me 
 one and would take no pay. 
 
 I told him of my having done more than fairly well in 
 the garden business and of the possibility of my getting 
 a good job of work from a Mr. Mauresse. He said he 
 was glad of my success, which, in his single-hearted way, 
 he seemed to take upon himself the credit of being in a 
 way the cause of, if it did not clearly appear that -vvay. 
 
 ''He is a very rich man,'' I told him, "you may have 
 heard of him." 
 
 "Tall man!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "No, not tall, rather short, thick-set:" 
 
 "I know him. Blue eyes!" 
 
 "No, reddish-brown." 
 
 309 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 "Know him well. Gray whiskers !" 
 
 ''No, no whiskers ; dark mustache." 
 
 "Same man," he cried, "Morrissy ; know him well." 
 
 "Not Morrissy, Mauresse." 
 
 "That is him. Lives out in the Mission !" 
 
 "No, he lives at some hotel now. He is going to live 
 near the park." 
 
 "That is what I mean. The very same man." 
 
 "I hardly think," I put in hesitatingly, "that we are 
 talking about the same man. The man I mean is an 
 Englishman, a Cockney Jew, called Mauresse, though the 
 name I suppose originally was Morris." 
 
 "Oh, Joe Morris! why of course! Old Joe Morris! 
 Why, man alive, I know him as well as I know you. T 
 used to know him in Sacramento. You just give him my 
 name and you will see what he will do. That will be 
 all right." 
 
 I shook hands with Mr. Dugan and went to walk 
 along the waterfront, among the many people shifting 
 about. Quite a number of street fakirs were out. Sev- 
 eral sold remedies for catarrh, which seems to be the 
 favorite ailing in this town. I stopped here and there 
 to listen to some of the jokes. The crowds were very 
 good-humored, as a rule. When a detachment of the 
 Salvation Army with their big drum drew near, the 
 fakirs had to quit for a time, or move off to a distance. 
 I think it was a very shrewd move for the Salvation 
 Army to adopt the big drum for their principal musical 
 instrument, whomever the idea originated with. For the 
 big drum certainly silenced almost everything else and 
 will always have the last word. 
 
 Time seems to make no change in the talk of the 
 street preachers, though to me it does appear strange 
 that individuality does not more assert itself. They all, 
 women as well as men, express themselves alike and with 
 almost the same identical words, I have always heard 
 
 3^0 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 them use, molded into the same stereotype phrases, spoken 
 in the same tone, repeated over and over again. 
 
 There was one exception, a woman. Not that the 
 drift of her remarks was different, nor her choice of 
 words, but a something was in her voice that made a 
 strange impression. And not on me alone. As soon as 
 she began to speak, three, four men, who probably had 
 heard her before, left the ground. Others followed. One 
 rather serious, good-natured and somewhat simple-look- 
 ing fellow in front of me becoming visibly more and more 
 uneasy, at last broke out into cursing the woman most 
 frightfully, and putting his hands over his ears rushed 
 away. I went away myself, unable to stand it any longer. 
 And it was nothing more or less than a hysterical quality 
 of sound, or a "ring" in the woman's voice. But it 
 was something hideous ; a horrible wailing, like of some- 
 one calling in direst agony of torture for help one can- 
 not render. 
 
 I joined another crowd where several young men were 
 preaching alternately, relieving each other. The one just 
 then talking, dealing out hell-fire pretty freely, shook his 
 hand right in the face of a tall, stout fellow. Of course 
 it was an accident, but the fellow took umbrage at it and 
 shouted : "Don't you point your finger at me !" The 
 preacher apologized humbly and retired, not finishing his 
 discourse, his associates covering his retreat with singing 
 a hymn. 
 
 Here a bystander started an argument with me, or 
 tried to. From his looks I took him to be a hanger-on 
 to the associated, young preachers. Probably he was 
 and mingled with the crowd to start such arguments. 
 At first I gave evasive answers, but when he persisted I 
 gave him Ullard's creed: "It is utterly and absolutely 
 impossible for me to believe in creation, and consequently 
 it is just as absolutely impossible for me to believe in a 
 
 311 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 creator." He stood with his mouth open, pronoLincing the 
 word creation in an uncertain way and moved away. 
 
 Another one of the young preachers was by this time 
 ready to speak. He commenced quite plaintively: "I 
 was born in the city of New York without a dollar in 
 my pocket." A young woman behind me poked me in 
 the back, and when I turned and smiled, became perfectly 
 convulsed with laughter and ran aw^ay. I followed her 
 for a short distance, till she stopped to speak to some 
 young fellows I did not like the looks of ; then I wheeled 
 about and walked farther down the waterfront. 
 
 On the next corner a drunken man hove in sight com- 
 ing across the street, and it looked for all the world as 
 though he was trying to cross over in the face of a very 
 high wind. I could not help stopping to watch him. He 
 would appear to be blown about, fighting to hold his ow^i, 
 turned half round and held fast in that position for some 
 seconds, till struck in another direction by a gust with 
 full power and driven back, struggling inch by inch, then 
 suddenly let go to stumble forward in a lull, and again 
 brought up by a wild blast, to turn and struggle. 
 
 As he was about to fall, I went to his assistance and 
 caught his arm. He clung to me like a drowning man, 
 but he was not at all so far gone as not to be fully 
 sensible. 
 
 "I am here yet," he said. He was not so very old, 
 though old enough to make one feel like taking care of 
 him in his state. 
 
 I asked him if I could take him anywhere. 
 
 "Yes, take me to Jim's saloon, next block, if you will." 
 
 Should I not rather take him home, I suggested. 
 
 **Ha!" he cried angrily, "Home! A man that has no 
 wife has no home." 
 
 '*Oh, but you surely have some place where you live," 
 I urged, "some friends." 
 
 312 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 He cried again, more angry. "Friends? A man that 
 has no money has no friends. Take me to Jim's." 
 
 At the entrance to Jim's saloon which was only a few 
 doors astern, a man was standing near the door, quite a 
 decent-looking man. watching the movements of the 
 drunken party, who had left my arm and recommenced 
 his struggle with the wind, that now seemed to blow a 
 perfect gale straight out of Jim's doorway. As he 
 lurched he fell against the man, in whose face he looked 
 with the greatest surprise, changing to new anger, and 
 roaring to the man, who had not spoken a word but per- 
 haps looked at him expressively, ''You are a damned 
 liar," he tumbled into the saloon. 
 
 I sauntered still farther down the waterfront to where 
 a wide and very long wharf, or pier has lately been built, 
 and so far left without roof, and unenclosed. Several 
 dozen people were fishing there. The most of them used 
 bamboo rods. They did not catch many fish. Still they 
 caught a few. 
 
 I was amused at a boy that was waiting on two big, 
 young fellows who were fishing. He did not seem to 
 belonsf to them or to be in anv wav connected with them, 
 but he had to do everything for them, and they ordered 
 him about as though they owned him. If a fish were 
 landed he had to jump to take it ofi; the hook, and string 
 it. bait the hook, go for more bait, beg or steal it. He 
 had to go and beg cigarettes for them from boys or men. 
 and get matches the same way. If anything went wrong, 
 if the lines became tangled, if the fish got ofif the hook 
 ])efore it was landed, if the hooks caught anywhere, if 
 the light of the cigarettes went out he was cursed and 
 abused. But if either one of the young men tired of 
 holding his rod, then the boy was allowed to hold it for 
 him. That and the last, little butt of a cigarette given 
 to him to smoke when it had grown so short that it could 
 not be smoked with comfort any more, was the reward 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 for his services. He seemed so to regard it himself, and 
 even to be proud of it, proud of being in the big fellows' 
 company, imitating their swagger. When catching his 
 eye I gave him a look of comprehension and a smile in 
 recognition of the humorous side of the situation ; he re- 
 sented it and said, not loud but distinctly enough for me 
 to hear: "What are you grinning at, you damned fool?" 
 
 Well, no doubt, I often deserve that appellation, 
 
 I had to think of my former self, my life on the 
 wharf. But I was much younger than this boy when I 
 was with Nick and Nello. And if I had to wait on our 
 customers, and did perhaps more work and waiting than 
 I should have done, my men would have forbidden me 
 to do such waiting on such young loafers as this boy did. 
 
 I went to dinner early and came home early. 
 
 I feel to-night as though this day, to-day, had been 
 an unprofitable day. I might have gone to Mr. De Lang's 
 and worked at trimming up the place a little, only that 
 it really needs no trimming up yet. I wonder if they 
 are home to-night. I sometimes think home is the place 
 where Mrs. De Lang can least endure to be. 
 
 Old France has been a good deal in my mind all day. 
 Maybe on that account I have this feeling of the un- 
 profitableness of this day, because when I was alone with 
 him after Hants was gone, I had this same feeling on 
 odd days. 
 
 When Hants and France had gone to farming to- 
 gether, the arrangement had been the very thing to 
 suit France. When I had come to them his satisfaction 
 had been complete. The only thing he desired was that 
 there be no change, that everything remain as it was, 
 to last the years of life left to him. And then how sud- 
 denly the change did come ! 
 
 One Sunday Hantz had gone to Fairlies. Tlie same 
 day, when we had not expected him for perhaps a week, 
 he came back in a state of suppressed excitement that 
 
 314 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 impressed me very much. For several hours that evening 
 he and France sat in close conference. So much I could 
 guess that he wanted France to do something the old man 
 did not want to do. Afterwards I learned what it was 
 about. Hants had met at Fairlies a former acquaint- 
 ance from the mines who had told him of a new find of 
 gold near the old well-known diggings of Purple Gulch. 
 There was a chance of getting in and taking up some good 
 claims. But it must be done immediately. Hants, I am 
 sure had tried very hard to persuade France to join 
 him in another trial at mining which he was resolved at 
 all hazards to make. But France would not make the 
 venture. 
 
 Before nine o'clock that night Hants was gone away 
 again. 
 
 In three days he returned. And he was a changed 
 man to me then. He told me he had now got what 
 would make him a rich man. He could sell out this 
 day for a big, round sum ; but he was in no hurry. He 
 would sell all right when it was time., France could have 
 done the same as he did if he had only had sense; he 
 had done all he could and knew how to get France to 
 pull up stakes and go with him to the new diggings, but 
 with no success. The old man was a fool. There was 
 nothing to be made at farming. They might make a liv- 
 ing, he said, like they had been doing, but they never 
 could make more all their life, and he was not going to 
 put in all his life at that ; the chance to win the fortune 
 he had wished for ever since he had known what a for- 
 tune meant had come to him now at last, and he had 
 taken that chance. He had never seen a better outlook, 
 but even if it turned out poor, he could always go back to 
 be a farm-hand. The old man, he went on, did all the 
 time keep harping on the point that when they had given 
 up mining and gone to farming they had agreed and 
 promised each other to work and stay together. Now 
 
 315 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 would they not work and stay together at the 
 mining camp Hke at the farm? The truth was, the 
 old man wanted to stay just where he was and keep on 
 doing just as he was doing, pother round, fuss, give les- 
 sons, read, make music, do a little housework and cook- 
 ing and let other people do all other work. That was 
 all right; he had always been willing to do more than 
 his share of work, and that I should get all the teaching 
 I could. But he had other aims besides, he was not done 
 yet with life and with some people in this world, whom 
 he was wanting to teach a lesson himself. 
 
 Finally he told me that he was going away the next 
 day, that old France would stay at Five Oaks and wanted 
 me to stay there with him, and that I should do that, 
 he supposed, though it was none of his business. I could 
 do as I pleased. He had nothing more to do with me, 
 and I had nothing more to do w^ith him. Only I should 
 have to go with him to Purple Gulch the next day, as he 
 was going to take along an extra horse to pack his 
 things, one of our horses, vv^hich I was to bring back. 
 Later when he had made his fortune he might pay us 
 a visit before he went away for good, back to the old 
 Pennsylvania home. 
 
 I had been feeling badly enough about his going to 
 leave us and his saying that he had nothing more to do 
 with me, and when he wound up with giving me praise, 
 purposely to make me feel worse, I am sure, saying I had 
 always been a good boy and he had always liked me, he 
 very soon had me crying most bitterly. All that day 
 while he was gone to Fountain Head to settle some things 
 with the Boss, I wandered round the place thinking of 
 him, missing him at every corner, going into the fields, 
 petting the cows and horses, to tell them in whispers 
 that he was going away; the only bright spot in all the 
 gloom being the told-of ride with him to Purple Gulch. 
 
 And then how the meeting Mr. Tem Oldock at that 
 
 316 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 place changed everything again, all my thinking, all my 
 feeling, everything! The indescribable, boundless joy at 
 seeing him. Sometimes I fancy I feel the effects of it 
 
 to this day. 
 
 Mr. Tern Oldock had told me I must not let on to 
 anybody that I knew him in the least; someone was after 
 him. Perhaps I connected this someone with my mys- 
 terious enemy. I cannot tell. It was enough, however, 
 to silence my joyous outburst and make me go back to 
 Five Oaks without the murmur of a hesitation. But I 
 carried Mr. Tern Oldock with me in my heart and never 
 lost the feeling of the possession of him till v>'e met 
 
 again. 
 
 And shall we not meet again now ? 
 
 I never learned what passed between Hants and France 
 when after about a year's absence Hants returned from 
 Purple Gulch for his last, short visit to Five Oaks, a 
 rich man. From some remarks made afterwards by 
 France, and hints, I think Hants made him the ofifer to 
 take him along to Pennsylvania, which oflFer France re- 
 jected. I believe he felt the offer to have been made 
 in pure boastfulness. I don't think he was right. Hants 
 would have stood by the offer if he made it. And if he 
 took him away from Five Oaks and along to Pennsyl- 
 vania, that meant that he would take care of him further. 
 Yet he may have been very glad when old France did 
 not accept the proposition. And France may have been 
 convinced that he was using the better sense and judg- 
 ment of the two, not to go into an arrangement which 
 might make a dependent of him and work a burdensome 
 engagement on Hants, though it was not from sense or 
 judgment, I am sure, that he refused to accept the offer, 
 but from pride. For France was at bottom of much 
 haughtiness and no little conceit, which, I believe, is often 
 joined to pure obstinacy. 
 
 He had lost his chance, missed it. He had not wanted 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 to take it when Hants took it. He did not envy Hants, 
 at least not to more than such envy or grudge we all, 
 I suppose, feel when our former partner, after forcing 
 the dissolution of the partnership meets with great suc- 
 cess. But he must have felt that if he had not given up 
 trying, had not resigned himself to a retired life of 
 poverty and had not in stubbornness clung to this condi- 
 tion, but had kept up his striving, not considering himself 
 a so much better judge than Hants he would now be able 
 to live the life he liked in independence and abundancy. 
 
 To me Hants had given two five dollar gold pieces, 
 telling me to take good care of them, sew them in my 
 shirt and keep them for a rainy day. He had stayed not 
 half an hour. Then he was gone for good. 
 
 I sometimes faintly wonder if he carried out his plans 
 of retribution in regard to his half-brother and sister, 
 buying in the family farm and giving it to them. T don't 
 believe he did. I think when it came to the point, he 
 found a less expensive form of retaliation answering 
 better. 
 
 August. 
 
 I started out very early this morning to hunt np work, 
 walking briskly against the chilly wind and fog through 
 parts of the fine residence-quarter of the north side of 
 the town. That is one advantage of our disagreeable 
 climate, it will never let us get lazy; we have to keep 
 moving and lively at that. 
 
 I did not expect to find much work where I was going, 
 since it is all either steadily contracted for, or seen to, 
 at the larger places by men employed there. I did not 
 get a single chance to ofifer my services to anyone till 
 I was past the Presidio entrance, where I found a man 
 hoeing away in the small front yard of a small but pre- 
 tentiously cheap-gorgeous dwelling house. He was rather 
 young, yet of an oldish air. I did not like his looks, 
 not only his appearance but something more about him 
 
 318 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 which was disagreeable, without being able to tell right 
 away what it was. He was thin, of a long body on short 
 legs with long feet, long arms and sloping, or rather 
 down-hanging shoulders, long neck and sharp face. 
 
 I .spoke to him and asked for w^ork. He was a lawyer. 
 I found him very accessible. Some questions I put to 
 him he answered most willingly. But that was not till 
 evening. 
 
 He had set me to work in the morning immediately. 
 In fact my happening along there seemed most oppor- 
 tune. He made no bargain with me as to my charges 
 and went away greatly in a hurry to go down-town 
 to his business. 
 
 I worked there all day, first in the little front yard, 
 afterwards in the back yard and finally about the lower 
 part of the house, where I had to do sundry jobs of 
 nailing up shelves, screwing in hooks, putting in screens, 
 all to the wife's directions, w^ho proved a quiet, not 
 unpleasant, but somewhat indifferent or dull person. She 
 gave all her orders in a most uncertain way, always want- 
 ing to know what I thought about it and always letting 
 me do everything my way. Two stupid-looking, four and 
 five year old little boys of short legs, long thin bodies, 
 long arms and no shoulders to speak of, showed them- 
 selves often on the rear porch, observing me at my work, 
 but never venturing near. Occasionally a young girl 
 came out of the kitchen onto the porch to look after them 
 and speak to me. She told me she had been hired from 
 an orphanage and was the only help in the house. She 
 appeared a little weak-minded. At the upper rear win- 
 dows I saw at times two old ladies, who from their thin, 
 sharp faces, long necks and drooping shoulders I took to 
 be relatives. When I was called into the kitchen at noon 
 to lunch, I saw the two ladies seated at the dining room 
 table. They wore a great deal of jewelry, and from the 
 attention they received from the lady of the house, I 
 
 319 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALA \ US 
 
 thought they must have money. Altogether I was in the 
 story-weaving mood, such as I used to think out to my- 
 self, when a boy. 
 
 In the evening toward six o'clock the lawyer, Mr. 
 Snivers, came back from business and offered to pay me 
 half a dollar for my day's work. I did not take the money 
 right away. 
 
 '*I have not done very well to-day," he said. "Fifty 
 cents is all I can give you. I think you had your lunch 
 here too, did you not ? That is worth another fifty cents." 
 
 Yes, I answered, I had my lunch here, and I was sorry 
 for the lady to be at so much more work and trouble, 
 having enough people to wait on and work for, all day. 
 But," I abruptly changed the subject, *'I should like to 
 ask you a question. If anyone dies, is not his property 
 put through the courts ?" 
 
 He was immediately on the alert. ''Why yes," he 
 cried. "How? That depends. What do you mean?" 
 
 ''I know so little about these tihngs," I replied, ''that 
 what I say and how I say it may sound very stupid. I 
 mean if anyone dies, possessed of property, is not the 
 heirship regulated by law. And are not records of the 
 proceedings kept in court?" 
 
 "Why yes to be sure," he exclaimed. "If there is no 
 will all inheritance is regulated in the Probate court ac- 
 cording to law. If there is a will the property goes to 
 the heirs according to the will through the same court. 
 Was there a will?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then the will had to go to probate, and of course the 
 Probate court proceedings will be on proper record or 
 file. What is the case?" 
 
 But I did not like to tell him the case. In fact I had 
 begun to fear I had done wrong in speaking to him at all 
 about this matter. 
 
 "If you want to find out anything," he proceeded, "I 
 
 320 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 can do it for you better than any other man. And T 
 should do it very reasonably. I have a great deal of 
 Probate court practice. And if you have any claim, I 
 have a good pull with the judge. There are not many 
 members of the bar that have more influence than I 
 have. Just give me your case. I will put it through 
 in shape. Why, I see you have put the whole garden 
 in trim ; and you fixed up the back yard too and saw^ed 
 a lot of wood. You must have worked pretty hard, I 
 guess you did more than tw^o dollars' worth of work. 
 Here, take this, two dollars and a half. And you had 
 better go in the kitchen and get your supper. That 
 front yard looks pretty. Don't it look pretty, now ! I 
 guess I shall have you come once a week to take care of 
 it. And as to your case, I think you cannot do better 
 than to let me look into it. Of course I can't tell you 
 anything till I know more myself. Any contest? How 
 long since the party died ? Over ten years ? H'm ! Well, 
 sometimes the longer the better. Any minor heirs?" 
 
 The more he talked the less I liked to give him any 
 particulars. He now^ seemed to me to be a man who 
 would do anything to get a case. And I grew- more hes- 
 itating as he grew more pressing, offering to take my case 
 on a contingency; if I had a case and the claim was valu- 
 able; if the claim brought, say, ten thousand dollars, he 
 would take six thousand and give me four thousand, less 
 the costs of course. And something would have to be 
 done for the judge, till at last I cried, '*I have no case, 
 I have no claim. There is no claim." 
 
 'Tt is simply this," I continued, "a — well, a merchant of 
 this place died here ten years and more ago, leaving, I 
 don't know how much or how little. He was separated 
 from his wife for some years before he died, but not 
 divorced. Their two children had been living with him. 
 At his death the wife took them and went away with them 
 from this place. Now, would it be possible to find out 
 
 321 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 from the records of the court proceedings where they 
 went, where they are at present ? That is all I want to 
 know." 
 
 ''Possible/' he answered, "why, yes ! Possibly it would 
 be possible. It depends. Any real estate? Children 
 minors yet?" 
 
 ''The boy would be under age yet," I said. 
 
 "Oh, the boy!" he echoed. "Then the other child was 
 a girl. You are not the boy ? No! No! Any relative? 
 Son by a former wife ? No ! No ! How about the 
 will?" 
 
 I was very angry with myself for letting him find out 
 so much. 1 was all but resolved not to say a word more. 
 But I did. "There was a will," I told him, "made years 
 before, right after the marriage, leaving everything to 
 the wife and probably making her executor as well as 
 administrator. There was no former wife." 
 
 He thereupon explained to me that in that case where 
 there was a proper will, leaving everything uncondition- 
 ally, if uncoTiditionally, to the wife, or widow, the records 
 of the court would show nothing of the whereabouts of 
 the person in question, at the present time. The estate 
 would be settled up and out of probate long ago. Of 
 course the will must have gone to probate, but after the 
 lawful limit of claims and the estate once settled, the court 
 would have nothing more to do with any part of it, the 
 wife or widow would be absolute owner of all the prop- 
 erty, real as well as personal and if she sold or leased or 
 deeded or kept any or all of it, the court would have no 
 say in the matter, except the wife or widow had died 
 during administration, before settlement, which would 
 bring her heirs into court. Or except there had been 
 suits, and nothing was more likely, to keep the estate from 
 being settled. Or the widow owning property here, her 
 death occurring at any time would bring her estate into 
 probate here. But, of course that would be another case. 
 
 322 
 
CHROXICLES OF MAXUEL ALAXUS 
 
 .\iid he went on and on, about will^, estates, minor heirs, 
 illegitimate children, second wives, former husbands, 
 tricks in law, tricks in court, suit, influence with judges, 
 secret understanding between lawyers, prices of judg- 
 ments, till I thought he would never stop. And I did 
 not know what to admire more in him, the scoundrelship 
 he showed, the barefacedness with which he showed it, 
 the utter absence of all shame, or the stupidity with which 
 he constantly gave himself away. 
 
 Finally he pioposed that I should retain him as counsel 
 and give him as retaining fee one dollar of the money he 
 had paid me. But this I did not do. 
 
 We were having all this talk on the rear porch, where 
 I had trailed a creeper up the corner post. The old- 
 est one of the two little bo} s came out of the kitchen and 
 joined us, sent perhaps by his mother as a reminder to 
 his father that supper was waiting. The father called 
 him to him and petted him a little and said, as if making 
 him do a little child's trick: "Now, show the man that 
 you are a boy," which to my consternation the child im- 
 mediately did, whereat Mr. Snivers chuckled and patted 
 his head and called him his own boy, what, no doubt, 
 lie is. 
 
 Ullard many times said: ''Show me the man or the 
 woman without shame, and I shall show you the born, 
 true criminal." 
 
 That is what this man Snivers is : the born criminal. 
 
 It drags me back to prison, where he belongs, to think 
 
 of it. 
 
 Sometimes I feel as if I must tell, proclaim aloud what 
 T know. If people only knew they would kill more than 
 nine-tenths of all those they send to prison. But are 
 they any bettter? Are we not all criminals? That is 
 what those on the inside of the prison walls say : All are 
 criminals, but those on the outside are the lucky ones that 
 are not caught. 
 
 323 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 And the children ? Ullard used to brand them as crim- 
 inals. They know no shame, certainly, not till they are 
 taught. Nor do other animals know it. 
 
 No more! 
 
 August. 
 
 Accidentally I may have stumbled on our Smith, who 
 was our head clerk in my father's business. I do not 
 really believe it, yet when I think it might be and that 
 from him I can surely learn the whereabouts of Harry, I 
 can hardly contain myself to wait. 
 
 I went to the place of Mr. DeLang this morning to take 
 a passing look at the front yard. Everything about the 
 place was so quiet that I felt certain of nobody's being 
 at home. Still something impelled me to go up the steps 
 and ring the bell. And Mrs. DeLang answered it, looking 
 as fresh as a morning after the rain. Charming. 
 
 She had a letter in her hand. I asked jokingly if it 
 was from her to me. 
 
 "Well," she cried, '*if that is not funny! I never had 
 anything so funny happen to me in all my life. I should 
 never have thought of it, if you had not mentioned it. 
 Mr. DeLang left a note for you in his office and I had 
 forgotten all about it. I never should have remembered 
 it if you had not spoken. How did you come to ask? 
 Did you meet Mr. DeLang? No? Well, if that is not 
 funny! Did I ever? How did you come to speak of it?" 
 
 I said, "I did not know. Perhaps her appearance had 
 surprised me, since I had not expected to find her home : 
 and she coming in all her loveliness so suddenly upon me 
 had probably turned my head and made me say the first, 
 silly thing at hand. For was it not silly?" 
 
 She gave me a look and laughed. There was some- 
 thing in her look. But who could describe her laugh? 
 How poor after all is actually all language, unable even 
 to describe a laugh! Cooing, rippling, bubbling, nothing 
 fits. Fits? Preposterous is what all these attributes are. 
 
 3^4 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Hideous seems the sound of every one of them by com- 
 parison. 
 
 I hear it now. It makes me smile whenever I but 
 think of it as I hsten, it seems to tickle me. Something 
 in it, I don't know what, a little, just a touch, is what 
 makes it so. 
 
 She asked me to come in, but I resisted. She went to 
 fetch her husband's note for me from his workroom or 
 office. She was gone quite a long time. Once I thought 
 I heard a calling sound. I did not stir. When she came 
 to the open door again she told me with the most doleful 
 face that she could not find the letter high or low. Slie 
 had taken it from the desk where Mr. Del.ang had left 
 it and laid it on the drawing table, all by itself, so that it 
 would easier catch her eye. Now it had vanished. 
 
 At a venture I interposed: "Is not that it perhaps?" 
 pointing to tlie letter she had held in her hand all this 
 time and was biting the corner of now, with her beautiful, 
 little, even, white teeth. And it was. 
 
 The note was not closed. It was addressed to a Mr. 
 Malls, introducing me and recommending me for some 
 garden work. I thanked her, told her to give my thanks 
 to Mr. DeLang, and asked her if there was anything else 
 he wished me to do. 
 
 She answered "No! Oh, yes! There is. He told me 
 that Mr. Mauresse is going to give his gardening job 
 to you. But I was not to tell you, because, of course, 
 you know, it might not be, Mr. DeLang says. But I 
 reckon you are going to get that job all right. Mrs. 
 Mauresse wants you to do it. She wants to see you 
 some time, Mr. DeLang says. Did you ever see her?" 
 
 "No! Why? Because she is so very handsome?" 
 
 "Now I declare, how did you guess that? Or some- 
 body told you." 
 
 "No! Why, the way you spoke, anyone would know 
 that she must be either very plain or very beautiful to 
 
 325 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 be something remarkable to look at. And as Mr. 
 Manresse is rater plain, the natural deduction is that she 
 is the reverse." 
 
 "Rather plain," she mocked. "Well I should say, 
 rather plain. I don't see, for my life, how in the world 
 she could ever marry such a monkey." 
 
 *'But there are other considerations," I replied. "Who 
 knows but what he is the very best kind of husband. He 
 is giving her for one thing a very fine house to live in." 
 
 "Oh!" she pouted, "who cares for a house? Give me 
 a hotel to live in every time." 
 
 While we were speaking, a young man, walking rather 
 fast, passed the house. She bowed to him and smiled 
 and spoke, addressing him as Mr. Smith. He returned 
 the bow and smiled pleasantly enough, if, as I thought, a 
 little carelessly, while I had been thinking that Mrs. De- 
 Lang's manner had shown more than necessary neighbor- 
 ly interest. I asked her if he was a neighbor. She said 
 yes, he lived in the last but one cottage in the block, and 
 she entered into a lengthy relation of their acquaintance 
 and other particulars. Mr. DeLang had built tlie cottage, 
 of course since he had built all the dwellings in that row. 
 Mr. Smith was a clerk in a bank, was married and had 
 the sweetest, cutest, little girl baby in the whole world. 
 Had I not thought him handsome and well dressed ?" 
 
 I looked after him for another glance of observation. 
 but he already had disappeared round a corner. How- 
 ever, I could tell Mrs. DeLang that he had appeared to 
 me very handsome, very gentlemanlike and very well 
 dressed. 
 
 "Oh!" she exclaimed with a little half gasp and half 
 sigh, "if his mustache were only dark, instead of light. 
 he would be my ideal." And she finished by casually 
 remarking that his name was James Algernon Smith. 
 
 "Well, now it is my turn," I said, "to find something 
 happening very strange ; for I knew a man of that name. 
 
 326 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 and I should like to speak to him too. And he had a 
 son of that same name who should be of exactly the 
 age of this gentleman ; about twenty-four years." And 
 I asked her if she could not find out for me from this 2vlr. 
 James Algernon Smith, since she said she saw him every 
 day, if his father had been chief clerk in the banking 
 house of H. Alanus up to about thirteen, fourteen years 
 ago. I did not give her any more particulars. And now 
 I fear, I already gave her too much. She will not remem- 
 ber. She has forgotten before this, I am sure. Why did 
 I want to tell her to ask him anything? I could go my- 
 self to him. 
 
 I wonder if he is the boy Algie who would come to 
 our office once in a long while to see his father, and al- 
 ways by his coming made his father angry. I cannot 
 say that he looked in the least what one would expect to 
 see that boy grown up to be like. I remember him very 
 well. He was constantly asking everybody for money. 
 Sometimes he would tell by what means, arts, stories, 
 representations and misrepresentations he had succeeded 
 in obtaining money from different people, showing quite 
 an intuition or knowledge of human nature. 
 
 I am going out now to ^Ir. 2vlalls with my letter of 
 recommendation. 
 
 Later. 
 
 As I was setting out for Mr. 2^Ialls with my letter of 
 recommendation in my pocket, it came into my head to 
 go down to the Tern Oldock offices to ask for news froin 
 Mr. Tem Oldock or Mahon. I am sorry I went. I might 
 have known that I should not be told anything. An el- 
 derly gentleman was the only person in the office, at least 
 the only visible person. And he would hardly listen to 
 me. As soon as I put my question lie began to question 
 me and after a very few words plainly told me that unless 
 I gave a full account of myself and my objects I should 
 receive no information whatever. The rich men here or 
 
 327 
 
LliROXJCLliS Of ALIXUiiL ALANUS 
 
 everywhere are quite persecuted by cranks and crooks I 
 suppose. And if I call again, maybe, I shall be looked 
 upon as a crook or crank. Or I am already regarded as 
 such. I hunted up the old, colored janitor. I ought to 
 have gone to him in the first place. He recollected me 
 and told me that neither Mr. Tem Oldock or Mahon had 
 come and that he did not expect them to come before 
 next summer, if they came at all. 
 
 September. 
 
 Patience ! Patience ! To think of all the time gone by ! 
 
 On Tuesday I went out to the place of Mr. Malls. It 
 took a long ride on the street cars and a short walk uphill 
 to get there. It is a place intended to be a sort of public 
 garden, and I think it is very suitably located for that 
 purpose on the leveled-off head of a little eminence pro- 
 jecting out from the broad sweep of a glen, among the 
 farther mission hills, all sheltered from the everlasting 
 sea breeze by a forest of planted trees. 
 
 I had to go to work right away, the head-gardener 
 employed before me having suddenly fallen ill the 
 work was waiting to be completed. And I have been 
 out there till last night. I slept in a very elegant bed- 
 room in the public house or inn, built and run in 
 conjunction with the place. Not but what I wished, 
 every conscious moment, myself back in my shabby 
 little room here, where, last night when I came home, 
 Mrs. and Mr. Carpenter have made me feel doubly 
 welcome and comfortable. They had been much con- 
 cerned about me. I could not advise them of my 
 whereabouts till the third day, having no time or 
 opportunity. 
 
 I think Mr. Malls was very well satisfied with me. 
 He paid me first class foreman's wages. He wanted 
 me to stay too, after the head-gardener had come back, 
 and keep on workng, though at ordinary laborers rates. 
 It was not the rates that made me leave, nor the re- 
 
 328 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 turn of the head-gardener, though he did not care much 
 to see me there. I left for several reasons, principally 
 I think from a sort of homesickness. And I like more 
 independence of work, and smaller jobs. The job for 
 Mr. Mauresse was in my head too ; but that is not a 
 smaller job. And I wanted to see Mrs. De Lang and 
 hear what Mr. Smith said. 
 
 How long shall I have to wait for that? I was 
 twice at Mrs. DeLang's to-day. Nobody was at home. 
 I passed by Mr. Smith's cottage. I came very near 
 going in. What kept me back was the thought of the 
 prison. If this Mr. Smith is that Algie he must 
 know all that happened and can not have forgotten. 
 How foolish of me to set Mrs. De Lang inquiring. 
 Now it may all come out. Not that she would care. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 Another scare ! Opium Loo ! I never saw much 
 of him. I never met him particularly. I never spoke 
 to him, nor he to me. And I am quite convinced that 
 he does not know me at all. M}- hair too and beard, 
 growing and being so dense and black make me look 
 different. At least it must change my looks suffi- 
 ciently to make me not easily recognizable. He did 
 not see me. Yet it gave me a scare. 
 
 It was funny as Mrs. De Lang would say. I had 
 gone out to the park to while away the time till eve- 
 ning. I was sitting in the crowd on the benches. 
 The band was playing. Something made me turn my 
 head and I saw him four, five benches away, Opium 
 Loo ! The most debased of the prisoners ! The vilest 
 of the vile in that vile place ! As I saw him I seemed 
 to have known before that he would be sitting there, 
 that I should see him. I felt like dropping on my 
 hands and knees and crawling off between the benches 
 to get away unseen by him. I believe I did stoop 
 somewhat as I walked off; I had a sensation as though 
 
 329 
 
CriROXiCLi:S OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 I did. And again, thinking the people might notice 
 my stooping, I tried to straighten up. 
 
 I will put him away out of my mind altogether. 
 But I shall have to be on the look-out. For I will 
 not know nor be known by anybody of the prison. 
 
 Mr. Malls is a very vain man. If the people of the 
 United States of America are the vainest of all peoples, 
 of a vanity, Ullard would maintain that is greater 
 than that of all other peoples together, Mr. Malls is 
 a good representative. He wants to be flattered and 
 petted all the time. If you do not do it, he does it 
 himself for you. And he will think very ill of you for 
 not doing it. He even hates to hear anybody else well 
 spoken of. The only one he likes to hear praised is 
 Mr. Malls. He will allow no merit in any one else, 
 arrogating to himself every particle of it, to the abuse 
 of common sense. And in this condition then he 
 would not be like the American people. For the 
 Americans, be they as vain as Ullard proclaimed them, 
 are eminently endowed with common sense, even if it 
 does not always so appear. 
 
 The first thing Mr. Malls told me was that all this 
 place of his came out of his head. Brains were the 
 thing, he said; brains! I replied I had heard that his 
 head-gardener was a very competent man. 
 
 "My foreman," he retorted, "was a mere automaton, 
 knew nothing, absolutely nothing, could do nothing. 
 I had first to tell him what to do and how to do it, 
 and then direct his every move; in fact do it myself. 
 Automaton! You know what an automaton is. Well, 
 automaton! I had first to wind him up and then set 
 him going, and follow him and keep following his 
 steps to set him right at every turn. You said head- 
 gardener. I am the head-gardener. I am my own 
 head-everything. Always !" 
 
 The inn connected with the place is located at the 
 
 330 
 
CHROXiCLES or MASUEL ALASUS 
 
 base of some large, rough out-cropping rocks, form- 
 ing a sort of broken wall. A bed of ferns was to be 
 arranged to fill out the corner between the wing of 
 the inn and the rock-wall. I was sent to consult 
 about it the man who is going to run the inn. I wa^ 
 told to arrange the plantation as he desired, and fin 1- 
 ing him a man knowing what he wanted and able to 
 communicate his ideas, it took but a few minutes till 
 I had several laborers working planting the bed of 
 ferns. Presently Mr. Malls appeared and wanted to 
 know what I was doing. I began to explain, when he 
 interrupted me saying: "That is all very well, but I 
 want you to understand that I am the man." 
 
 I, somewhat nonplussed, answered : "You sent me 
 to this man and told me yourself to get at what he 
 wanted and do it. And that is what I am doing." 
 
 "Yes ! Yes !" he cried, "that is all right ; only I want 
 you to know that I am the man." 
 
 So I paid no further attention to him, for that time 
 
 Talking with the inn-keeper. I had mentioned to 
 him that I thought that a foot-path, laid out to lead 
 from the inn to the top of the rocks would be quite a 
 feature and a great convenience. As he concurred 
 with me, and as the costs would be small, ^ spoke 
 to Mr. Malls about it later in the day. 
 
 "The ideal" he exclaimed, "a path I Ab.-nrdl" 
 
 The next forenoon he had me called to him and toll 
 me he had an idea he wished to communicate to me. 
 
 ''You must know Mr. Eguren," said he, "1 am a 
 great thinker. Nights, when you people lie in dead 
 oblivion, I lie awake and think. And then I have ideas. 
 I have them not only then, I have them all the ..mie. 
 I had an idea a good many nights ago, I may have 
 mentioned it at the time. I believe I did. It is to 
 have a path connect the top of the rocks w^ith the inn." 
 
 331 
 
CHROMCLlS Or MA:-!l:rL ALAXIJS 
 
 And he brought forthwith every particular of my proposi- 
 tion of the day before, all in his grandest manner. 
 
 I suppose I ought to have called him dov^n, as the 
 saying is, if for no other reason, to hear what he 
 would say, how he would manage to carry through his 
 pretense, and to see if he could not be shamed into 
 confessing himself a dissimulator and plagiarist. But 
 if in one way such self-inflation is ridiculous enough 
 to take it not seriously, it is in another way too silly 
 to be anything but tiresome. If I had been merely 
 an outsider, I might have found the incident more 
 funny. As it was, I had nothing to say and carried 
 out Mr. Malls' idea in silence. 
 
 At my laying out of a sweeping walk, which I was 
 working on the last thing, the last day before the 
 head-gardener returned and I took my discharge, Mr. 
 Malls had a last opportunity to show the peculiarity 
 of his notions. 
 
 He was looking at what I was doinjo;-, "By the by," 
 he called to me, "what is the radius of your curve, 
 Mr. Eguren?" 
 
 "What curve, Mr. Malls?" 
 
 "The curve of your walk." 
 
 "I don't know what you mean, Sir?" I returned. 
 "I am laying out this walk from the original plan. 
 It was not changed, you know, when you changed the 
 slope." 
 
 "That is all right, I only want to know the radius 
 of your curve." 
 
 "Do you mean the border-line of the walk?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes, your curve." 
 
 "Well," I said, "I am afraid I can not give you what 
 you ask; the line is altogether too complex and ir- 
 regular. Here it is even straight." 
 
 *T only want to know the radius of your curve. You 
 know every curve must have a radius." 
 
 332 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 '*But here is a whole collection of curves, ellipses, 
 parabolas, whatever they are. I suppose you could 
 get their elements, but I think you would have to get 
 mathematicians and civil engineers to do that for you. 
 I am only a gardener." 
 
 I kept on with my work, while he kept on exclaim- 
 ing: "But! But there must be a radius to every 
 curve." 
 
 September. 
 
 Another blank! Perhaps it is as well. I called at 
 Mrs. De Lang's this morning. She opened the door 
 for me. She asked me in, but I kept my place on the 
 front porch, while she stood in the front door-opening, 
 talking. She had seen Mr. Smith and he was not the 
 man. His father was not the man I had been inquir- 
 ing about; his father's name had not been James 
 Algernon, but Henry. 
 
 She was dimpling with smiles. 
 
 "Well! Did I? Did I? Yes, I did. I saw him. 
 Certainly! You were so particular. Well, you know 
 first off it went clean out of my head. But when we 
 met it all came back. He was very nice. So since 
 you were so anxious I made a point of speaking to 
 your friend." 
 
 "He is not my friend. He never knev/ me." 
 
 "Well, my life ! How funny you are ! He does not 
 know you now. I did not mention you. How could 
 T? I do not even know your name. I never saw 
 such a funny person as you in all my life. If I was 
 to ask him things, I had to meet him and speak to 
 him, had I not? Well! Well, he does not know a 
 thing about those people. He never heard of them in 
 lili his life. And bis father's name was Henry. And 
 he died three years ago ; the father did. What are you 
 smiling at?" 
 
 After this she told me Mr. De Lang wished to see 
 
 333 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 me this evening, about my making a sketch to show 
 somebody how something could be laid out. I don't 
 know if I shall go to their house to-night. I wish 
 I had remained out at Mr. Malls, working hard. 
 
 To do something I walked over to Mr. Rickon's 
 where I did my first work the first day. He was just 
 as dull and lifeless as on that occasion. But he had not 
 forgotten me and was willing to let me earn a dollar, 
 setting out some new plants that he had. 
 
 I worked all day there. Now I am ready to go to 
 see Mr. DeLang. Shall I really find him at home? 
 I half incline to think the appointment was but one 
 of her slips of mind, which are not alwa3^s that. Or 
 what ? 
 
 I wonder if she had been expecting me this morn- 
 ing? I half think she had. But I hardly believe it 
 truly. 
 
 Her skin, how beautiful ! She is a little broad- 
 shouldered. And her hands are not small. Her wrists 
 show that she has done work. All this seems just 
 right for her. And the suppleness about her ! And 
 her full, red lips with the dazzling teeth ! And her 
 laughing blue eyes. 
 
 Late night. 
 
 She opened the door. 
 
 I thought, I really for one moment thought she was 
 alone in the house. 
 
 And she knew that I thought so. 
 
 Mr. DeLang was in the office. What he wanted 
 of me was to make a sketch of the grounds for a 
 building he is figuring on putting some addition to. 
 It is a hospital and asylum for aged people. He has 
 not yet got the job, but expects to get it and wants 
 to show the managers or directors of the institution 
 how the old grounds can be altered to suit the addi- 
 
 334 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 tions to the buildings. I am to go to-morrow to take 
 a book at the old place. 
 
 While we were at our business Mrs. DeLang came 
 into the room, and standing back of our chairs, as 
 we were sitting side by side at the table, made some 
 remarks about our pencillings on the ground plan of 
 the lot we had before us. I don't know that what 
 she said was very witty or funny, but we laughed at 
 it, and he laughingly told her to go away or he would 
 put her out of the room, when she put her arms from 
 behind around his throat, hugging his head that way 
 tightly to her bosom, laughing her delicious laugh. 
 He took it as something he was accustomed to and 
 did not dislike. Her loose sleeves were being worked 
 back, leaving her arms bare to above the elbows. He 
 untwined them while she playfully resisted him, turn- 
 ing them so as to touch his face and covering his 
 eyes and mouth with their soft inner sides : panting 
 with the exertion, laughing all the time, till he made 
 moves to jump up, when she ran awa}', but imme- 
 diately came back with a box of candy, offering some 
 to us. She gave us each a few pieces from her haiul, 
 claiming to have picked out the best pieces for us, 
 and retired to a lounge on the other side of the room 
 and laid herself down to finish the box of sweets. 
 She had carelessly drawn a shawl or blanket of manv 
 brilliant colors on the lounge over her and lay there, 
 her bosom rising and falling with her still agitated 
 ])reathing. like some kind of lovely feline. One could 
 almost expect presently to be hearing her purr, and 
 feel as though one must put out the hand to stroke the 
 A'elvety satin of her skin. 
 
 September. 
 
 Just returning from my early visit to the asylum 
 for a view of the grounds, I met in front of my gate 
 the letter-carrier, who held out a letter to me. ask- 
 
 335 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ing me if I knew anybody living here by the name 
 of the address. It was my name. I don't know what 
 did all rush through my mind, wondering who could 
 be writing to me. It is Mr. Snivers. I ought not to 
 have given him my address. I did not want to do it 
 at the time. But when he point blank asked me for it, 
 I told him the street and number. At the moment I 
 could think of no excuse to refuse it. 
 
 He writes that I am to call on a certain P. Brown 
 in the Mission, who has some gardening to be done. 
 A brother attorney he calls him, to whom I am to give 
 his name and tell him that I am the man he recom- 
 mended. Further he cautions me not to tell Mr. 
 Brown anything about our little matter, saying I 
 should have all the lawyers in town after me if I talked 
 about my case to any one of them. 
 
 I well believe it; and he does not even except him- 
 self. 
 
 Besides this he writes a whole lot of stuflF about 
 my case as he calls it. He says he has been think- 
 ing over the points I have been giving him and is 
 almost certain he can put his finger on the case, if only 
 I will help him by giving him the name ; that I should 
 be satisfied with him and never regret having em- 
 ployed him ; that he was sure to win my case ; that 
 he would take hold as soon as he received my orders, 
 which he expected me to give him as soon as I received 
 this. Or that, if I was too busy, he would call on me 
 in the evening. 
 
 Now, what shall I do? I feel like hiding to keep 
 away from this man. And yet I can not go away from 
 this town. I know of no other place to make my 
 living in. It is the only place to form the base of my 
 operations to trace my brother; even if I could make 
 my living elsewhere, I should always have to come 
 back here. 
 
 336 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 But I will not g-o away. I will not hide. 1 shall 
 go to Mr. Snivers and tell him that I will not utter 
 one more word to him about what he calls my case, 
 and he can withdraw his recommendation to Mr. 
 Brown, or any other recommendation, which of course 
 is meant to be my reward for g"iving Mr. Snivers my 
 case. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 I was lucky enough to meet Mr. Snivers on the point 
 of leaving home to go to his business. Everything 
 is all right. When I had told him what I had to say, 
 it really seemed unnecessary to have gone to this 
 trouble about this matter, since he was so easy about 
 it. It lies in my nature to look for a certain solidity 
 in people, stability and fixedness of purpose. And I 
 may say in general I find it, too. That is, in general 
 I find that people mean what they say and aim at 
 what they claim to pursue. But Mr. Snivers is one 
 of those that know not what they pursue. 
 
 He had all but forgotten me. And this light-head- 
 edness or light-mindedness fits so well into the whole con- 
 struction of his character, as I see it, that T have lost all 
 apprehension of his forcing himself on me. 
 
 Greedy, sanguine and unscrupulous he scents a case 
 in every word he hears, and darts at it. But only 
 till the next word proves a stronger scent and makes 
 him abandon the first. He met Mr. Brown the morn- 
 ing after I had worked for him, and hearing- that 'Mr. 
 Brown wanted a gardener, recommended me, as being 
 yet in his mind. He had promised to notify me, 
 but forgotten all about it and me, till he had yester- 
 day in court met Mr. Brown again and been by him 
 asked about it. By the time I reached his house I 
 had gone out of his head to his forgetting even my 
 name and address. Mr. Brown to whom he had 
 casually told both and who remembered them, had 
 
 337 
 
CHKOXICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 to tell him, so that he could write his letter to me. 
 All this he recounted with the easiest of manners, and 
 when I thanked him, he came out in his best colors, 
 asking me to pay him a commission for getting me the 
 job. I had no money with me, except a few dimes 
 and nickels, which I had not the face to offer him. 
 I told him so, promising to pay him what he would 
 ask as soon as Mr. Brown had paid me. But in his 
 greediness, or not trusting me, or both, he declared 
 himself in want of some car-fare and willing to take 
 what small change I had with me, in satisfaction of 
 his claim. 
 
 *'You give me what you have got about you," he 
 said, "and I will call it square. All right if that is all ! 
 Did you go through all your pockets? Put your hand 
 in that one! No more? How is this one? You did 
 not put your hand down this one, did you? All the 
 way down? Nothing? Feel along the bottom of 
 your vest. Sometimes when there is a hole in a vest- 
 pocket, a dime and even a nickel will slip through and 
 lodge in the lining and you don't know it. ^lay be 
 right in back! Let me feel! What is that? That 
 is one ! A dime ! Yes, sir ! Sure enough ! A dime ! 
 No, only a button ! Well I will take that button any- 
 how. I want just such a one on my drawers, I busted 
 one off this morning." 
 
 I knew, of course, I should be out that much little 
 change if his recommendation bore no fruit, but I 
 was most glad to be square with him, by his own 
 say so. 
 
 Mr. Brown, I found after some trouble. The ad- 
 dress Mr. Snivers had given me was wrong. But I 
 had a clue in knowing from Mr. Snivers' talk the 
 location of Mr. Brown's new houses where the garden- 
 work was to be done. I went there and kept on in- 
 quiring among the neighbors till I found one who 
 
 338 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 could tell me where Mr. Brown lived. And there T 
 found him home for lunch. He walked back to the 
 new houses with me, explaining on the way the gen- 
 eral arrangement of the whole improvements, as well 
 as the special plan of each house or rather cottage 
 for it is a block of semi-detached cottages Mr. Brown 
 has had built. They are not quite finished yet. Their 
 front gardens are to be laid out in flower-beds of 
 different sizes and shapes. I think parterres is the 
 name of what he meant. 
 I told him so at least. 
 
 "Oh, yes," he replied "parterres, to be sure. No 
 shrubs, vou know, nor trees! Something different 
 from our regulation front yard with a magnolia or 
 palm in the centre. Nothing but flowers and leaf- 
 plants, or mosses, too, for the borders and in-betweens. 
 I shall show you presently what I mean. I have a 
 great deal of taste that way. And something differ- 
 ent, you know, is not so all the same." 
 
 When w^e came to the buildings, I had to go over 
 everything with him in person, he showing me through 
 everyone of the cottages and explaining again most 
 minutely their superior plannings and fittings, but this 
 only after first standing me up against a telegraph 
 pole on the next street corner above, to get a sort of 
 birdseye view of the place, then taking me into the 
 adjoining house yard for a side view, likewise to an- 
 other point for a rear view and finally up the high 
 front steps of the house opposite, for a front viev/. 
 I had to admire every door and every window. I 
 had to put my hand on the mantelshelf to feel the 
 fineness of the polish of the wood. I had to bend down 
 to convince myself to his satisfaction that I could not 
 get my thumbnail into the seam of the flooring. I was 
 brought into every closet and had the number of the 
 shelves counted out to me. 
 
 339 
 
CHRONICLES Of MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 "One, two, three, four, five ! Five shelves ! Five ! 
 One less than six. Six w^ould be one more. But 
 there would not be so much room above. Or the 
 spaces between would be less. And if the spaces be- 
 tween were less they would not be so far apart. You 
 see? Everything thought of ! No space wasted ! Not 
 an inch, perfectly grand ! And here is the sink. You 
 see? You notice that door to the kitchen closet? 
 Rolling! Not hinged, but rolling! If it were hinged 
 it would not roll but open like any door. This slides. 
 You perceive? You wash your dishes in your sink, 
 you push back the door, you put your dishes on the 
 shelves in the closet ; it shuts. Perfectly coniplete ! 
 Oh, my architect is a grand young man. And he has 
 the same exquisite taste, that I have. Taste you know 
 is a great thing. I have it from my mother. My 
 mother, sir ! Oh, grand ! She had that taste in every- 
 thing, just perfect." 
 
 Finally to come down to our business, I roughly 
 marked with a pencil on a piece of paper how I 
 thought the front gardens might be plotted, about 
 which I found, as I had expected, Mr. Brown had no 
 clear ideas at all, but which he instantly declared 
 to be the way he always had wanted them to be fixed. 
 It was only when we drew near the money question 
 that he became cooler. As soon however as that was 
 settled, I became as perfectly grand a person with 
 him as the rest, and was told to go right ahead with 
 the work. 
 
 I shall do very well. I shall have two Filipinos 
 to help me. They are house-servants or some kind of 
 servants of Mr. Brown's. They understand something 
 of the Japanese way of gardening. They live for the 
 time in one of the woodsheds of the cottages, and 
 they are to board me with themselves. That is in the 
 agreement. 
 
 340 
 
CHROXICLES or MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 September. 
 
 I left Mr. Brown to-day noon, all finished with my 
 job, paid and praised to^he skies. Sometimes dur- 
 ing these days I had to laugh in Mr. Brown's face. 
 And I have smiled and smiled to myself till my face 
 ached. I love absurdity to laugh at, but this time the 
 dose has been enough, quite ; if I was to have more of 
 it, it would cease to be diverting. And the childish 
 vanity of it! 
 
 About the last thing Mr. Brown had to say, when 
 I was giving one of the Filipinos some explanation 
 about something he had done wrongly was to tell me: 
 "You have that same pleasant, considerate way, that 
 same delicate manner of spekaing to inferiors that I 
 
 have." 
 
 I made answer that 1 did not look on anybody 
 much as my inferior ; that if I might know about some 
 things more than others, others would know much 
 more than I about other things, and that I could 
 claim to know for sure but one thing, which was that 
 I knew very little of anything and that little only in a 
 confused way. His reply was to repeat the words: 
 "delicate manner;'* and if he understood at all that 
 T had meant to lecture him a little, he did not feel. 
 I think, that the shoe fitted him. 
 
 How he can give any sort of satisfaction as a lawyer 
 I can't conceive. Yet he is not disagreeable, and he is 
 businesslike, too, and not illiberal. He seems to be 
 
 very well off. 
 
 My experience with Mr. Snivers has made me rather 
 shy of putting any more direct questions to law^vers, 
 but incidentally in some conversation with Mr. Brown 
 about real estate, I learned that I could find out the 
 name of any owner of any piece of real estate here 
 by going to the assessor's office in the City Hall and 
 looking over the books. I have to work on my sketch 
 
 341 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 for Mr. DeLang or I should go to the City Hall now. 
 
 September. 
 
 Mr. Carpenter last night corroborated Mr. Brown's 
 assertion that I should at the City Hall upon applica- 
 tion be shown any one of the books containing all 
 the blocks and lots in the cit}^ mapped out and marked 
 with the owners' names. He thought it strange that I 
 should not know this. 
 
 I have hard work with my sketch for Mr. DeLang. 
 I do not succeed in making anything of it at all. 
 All yesterday afternoon I labored with it, only to 
 give it up at last and start afresh a second time. 
 Now I have started a third time. That heaviness 
 of my hand! I know it well enough. That is the 
 cause. The result of the hard work I had to do when 
 a child! It always seems strange to me though, that 
 this heaviness of hand does not interfere with my ex- 
 ecution on any musical instrument, nor my writing, 
 in fact anything but my drawing. So there must be 
 I suppose, something in drawing requiring a special 
 gift which I do not possess, outside of my heavy hand. 
 
 September. 
 
 My third sketch is better than the other two. Still 
 it does not compare with the one I made for Mr. 
 Mauresse. That was the chance effect of the buoy- 
 ancy of those days. My exuberant spirits! I may 
 never again succeed so well with anything in that line. 
 I don't know how Mr. DeLang will like this last 
 sketch. I shall have to bring it to him to-night. She 
 will not think much of it, I know. 
 
 This forenoon I am going to call at Mrs. Jackson's 
 to see how her grounds have developed; perhaps also 
 to hear Mrs. Woodelin sing. First how^ever I am 
 going to the City Hall. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 The property that was my father's where the house 
 
 34:2 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 stood we lived in, the old, brick warehouse and the 
 adjoining lots and properties which were his too, being 
 that whole block with the buildings on same all now 
 belong to Mr. Tern Oldock; the other property, too, 
 the house and lot near South Park. I presume there 
 was a sale, and he bought them. Probably the widow 
 wanted the cash yet there must have been plenty cash. 
 I know there was ; cash and bonds, stocks, notes, mort- 
 gages. 
 
 If she still owned the properties or but one piece, 
 I could find her through the agent. 
 
 My father owned no other real estate in this city. 
 He told me so himself. And the name Alanus does 
 not appear on the tax-list of this town. The man 
 in the assessor's office, looking over some index books, 
 told me so. But there w^as the ranch. Perhaps Mr. 
 Tem Oldock has bought that too, if it was sold. I 
 may find out. I suppose I could write to the assessor 
 of the county. Only I hate to give names, especially 
 in writing. 
 
 I hope it has not been sold. I don't know what all 
 I am thinking and planning. I believe in my mind I 
 have worked out something like a regular plot, how^ 
 Harry as soon as he is of age will come here and 
 undertake the management of the ranch, and how I 
 then shall go and hire out to him and work for him. 
 first as a common laborer, till he finally discovers who 
 I am. A regular, sentimental story, such as I always 
 used to be thinking out for myself when I was alone 
 in my boyhood's days. And perhaps as my father did 
 before me. 
 
 Mr. DeLang was or professed to be highly pleased 
 with my sketch. I found him alone. His wife was 
 not at home. He did not know where she was. It 
 was as well, he explained in his slow way, that she 
 was out because he would presently have to go away 
 
 343 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 himself, to confer with the managers of that asylum 
 about his contract. He added he would ask me to dine 
 with him but that he had no time to dine. I had just 
 come in time with my sketch. He had wanted to take 
 it along. He was glad I had kept my word. And the 
 sketch was fine. It would get him the job. At part- 
 ing, with some hesitation, he asked me to come to the 
 Mauresse residence in the morning where I might 
 meet Mr. Mauresse, who might say something to me 
 about his job. Mr. DeLang I fancied was afraid of 
 saying too much about this, raising my hopes too 
 high. 
 
 At Mrs. Jackson's this morning I was well received, 
 but I did not hear Mrs. Woodelin sing. I asked her, 
 but she would not. "She had been eating walnuts," 
 she said, "and she never could sing after eating wal- 
 nuts." 
 
 This day has been the first one since I have been 
 back here all clear of fog. It is about time for the 
 season to change. Perhaps we shall have rain soon. 
 I wish we would. It is very smoky, not alone of the 
 city's smoke, but more the smoke of the country, 
 where there are grass-fires and brush-fires and forest 
 fires in all directions at this time of the year, every- 
 thing being so dry. All this smoke mixing with the 
 sea-fog has made the city extra gloomy these last 
 weeks. A good rain-storm would put these fires all 
 well out. And how fresh and clean everything looks 
 after such a drenching! The first spring of the 
 country! For California really has two springs; one 
 after the first rain and the second later. But we 
 may not get our first rains till much later. One never 
 can tell. No two seasons are ever alike. They are 
 diilferent every year. The year I came away from Five 
 Oaks we had a very smoky spell, like this one now, 
 before the rains set in. I think however it was later 
 
 344 
 
CIJRO^^ICLI-S OI' MAM'EL ALANUS 
 
 in the year, at least two months later than this year. 
 I remember how anxious everybody was about the 
 rain holding oif so long. Although at our place and 
 all Fountain Head, water was always plentiful. 
 
 I recollect the days were getting very short. I had 
 not missed going to Fountain Head for a number ot 
 Saturdays and again I had gone up this Saturday 
 forenoon, after getting through the necessary home- 
 work for the days till I should be back, leaving to aid 
 France as little to do as possible except to look out 
 
 for himself. , .. , , 
 
 At Fountain Head I had found that the Boss had 
 left in the morning, before dawn, in the moonlight 
 with a team of four horses and the carryall, to get to 
 the river landing in time to give the horses a good 
 rest before taking back to Fountain Head a party of 
 three or four gentlemen who were coming on the river- 
 boat from the city to pay the Boss a visit of sev- 
 eral davs' duration. 
 
 No particular work had been staked out for me 
 at Fountain Head, the Boss. 1 surmised, being too much 
 taken up with his expedition and his arrangements 
 for the entertainment of the visitors, to think of me. 
 I could alwavs go into the kitchen and lend Sam a 
 hand, the cook, or Ho and Sue, the servant-boys of 
 all work, v.ho were nice, clean Chinamen, that I liked 
 verv well. This day they had to prepare for a great, 
 late supper, and Sam iokingly advised me to go home. 
 because if I staved at Fountain Head I should cer- 
 tainlv be put to work in the hot kitchen, washing 
 dishes all the time. Afterwards, remembering this, I 
 have sometimes fancied I had a sort of presentiment 
 that that strange man would be among these visitors 
 of the Boss's. ^It was only that I always expected to 
 meet him thus one day. xAnd for this I must remain 
 on the spot ; or I might have taken Sam's advice. 
 
 345 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 It was night when the team with the party arrived 
 at Fountain Head. Some of the hired men, besides 
 Sue and Ho and me, were at the solid gates leading 
 from the farmyard to the house entrance. A man 
 stood at the leader's heads with a lantern. Several 
 others held lanterns. I had picked out one with a re- 
 flector, which, the wa}^ I held it, put me in darkness. 
 Valises, gun-cases, fishing-tackles, satchels were being 
 handed out. The gentlemen arriving were stepping 
 from the wagon by the rear steps. I was standing at 
 the side, a little back. I let the light from my lantern 
 fall full on the face of each gentleman alighting, and 
 the last but one was he, that man, that strange man. 
 
 I stepped back a step. Some of the men pressed 
 forward for the last of the luggage. I let myself 
 be crowded back. I set my lantern on the nearest 
 one of the small tree-stumps standing in the farm- 
 yard for hitching posts. In the dark I took a few 
 more steps backwards, turned and walked to the cor- 
 ral where my horse stood saddled. I brought it out 
 to the gate of the old North road. Outside the farm- 
 yard I tightened the cinch, mounted and rode slowly 
 down the branch road through the plantations, turn- 
 ing to the right around the bottom of the park. I 
 saw the lights at the house above and heard voices 
 on the veranda, laughter, the Boss squeaking above 
 the rest, but I rode no faster up the road along the 
 hedgerow bordering the park, turning more to the 
 right, leading up between field-fences to where it 
 struck the wagon-road to Five Oaks and the valley, 
 quite beyond the last outhouses of Fountain Head. 
 Here was in the road-fence a gate which I could open 
 and shut without dismounting, and as soon as I was 
 in the road I put my horse to running. 
 
 I had so far held myself well in hand, but now going 
 so fast along the wooded hillside, fleeing, I lost some 
 
 346 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 control over myself. My flesh was beginning to creep. 
 Something was coming on behind me. I went faster, 
 and faster came after me the icy terrors. Pursued! 
 I could hear the clatter of horses' hoofs. They were 
 gaining on me. Out of the bushes to both sides black 
 shapes sprang at me as I went past and joined in 
 the chase behind. Cries and calls sounded. Shots 
 were fired. I heard the bullets whistle over me and 
 sing away, ahead. 
 
 It was not real. It could not be. It was all imagina- 
 tion. I must stop it. I pulled up the horse. All was 
 silence. Only the blood was pumping in my temples. 
 
 I had gone a good distance. I was near the stony 
 butte at the pass into our open hill-country. I could 
 tell by the light that the moon must be rising, and as 
 I rounded the butte I rode into the light of her yellow 
 oval, deep down as though floating on the thin sur- 
 face-mist and smoke which covered the great flat val- 
 ley as if with a shining vail. 
 
 I was on the level stretch of road along the high, 
 narrow ridge, and as I was going faster again till I 
 went at full speed, far above the mystic shimmer, 
 spreading as if into illimitable space, something took 
 possession of me, a spell, driving me to dash on into 
 what lay open at my feet, a wondrous world of liberty 
 and life. 
 
 Before this I do not know but what my ideas had 
 gone no farther than to get away from Fountain Head 
 to Five Oaks and there to stay till that strange man 
 had gone away again, which, I could be reasonably 
 sure would be in one week's time, or less, the Boss's 
 hospitality being as short-lived as lavish during its 
 limited periods, no visitor being well endured longer 
 than a week's time. 
 
 Now my thoughts were on the road well known to 
 
 347 
 
CHRO\'ICLliS OF MANUEL ALAXUS 
 
 tliein, down the hills to the valley, to the river, down 
 the river to the city by the bay. 
 
 What all was at work in me, w'ho can tell? The 
 terrors were shrunk back. Yet they were still there 
 behind me, only a little more distant, and I still felt 
 their power, as I always did. Before me lay a world 
 in part remembered as full of sweetest life. And in 
 it was at least one figure I could try to follow and hope 
 to find, Mr. Tem Oldock. He was, I believe, never 
 out of my thoughts since I had met him at Purple 
 Creek ; and the finding of him again meant to me the 
 getting back to all I had lost when I was taken from 
 the old wharf, as my meeting him had brought back 
 to me the hope and joy of the belief in the return to me 
 of my^ happiness. 
 
 But one sensation was dominant in me, I know. 
 I feel it yet. Exultation ! I had escaped. The dangers 
 I well knew, I should have to face again and again, 
 and finally succumb. But I had escaped this time. 
 Just so I should have planned my flight if I had 
 planned it. And had I not? Just such a meeting I 
 had been prepared for, and had been on the spot, 
 at my post, and had succeeded in getting away. No- 
 body would know, nobody could suspect. The Boss 
 would be busy with his visitors till they departed. 
 If he at all inquired for me, he would be told that I 
 had been at Fountain Head until his arrival with his 
 guests and would only think I had gone back to Five 
 Oaks, on the natural conclusion that so many guests 
 must keep him from attending to anything but them. 
 I could safely calculate on two weeks to elapse before 
 he would send or come for me, while old France would 
 make no move to find out anything about me, suppos- 
 ing me to be kept by the Boss at Fountain Head. All 
 the chances were that long before I came to be really 
 missed and talked about, that strange man would be 
 
 348 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 gone away again from Fountain Head without hearing- 
 a single word to awaken the least suspicion or doubt 
 or thought in him, referring to me. 
 
 The only thing that might be a little doubtful was 
 the sending back of my horse from the river. It would 
 go back, I was sure. It had not long ago been twice 
 over the road with a man from Fountain Head, who 
 was working in our fields. For the rest I must trust to 
 old France's lack of perception, which would prevent 
 his noticing the horse when it did come back. Most 
 likely he would never know it had been away. But I 
 must do away with the bridle and saddle. 
 
 At the accommodation gate in our Five Oaks fence my 
 horse wanted to stop. It hardly knew any other way to 
 go over the trail through our bottom lands to the road up 
 our hill. Farther along where the road ran around the 
 last spur of hill land, due west from Five Oaks I turned 
 to look back. From one rear window of our house a 
 piece of the road here was visible, and now, the moment 
 T looked back, I saw on the black hill the light in the little 
 house. 
 
 How often, later in life have I thought of that soli- 
 tary light and seen in my mind the old man, poring b)- 
 it over our schoolbooks, preparing problems and themes 
 and lessons for me that he was never more to teach, and 
 have felt that I treated him almost like a criminal, almost 
 as if I was then basely deserting him, I, the only one left, 
 the last of his life's interests ! 
 
 Down, round the hills, at their base, the road v/ent on 
 winding. I must be near the point where the river road 
 came up tlie valley. The shadows of brush and rocks 
 and weeds and every little unevenness lay on the whitish, 
 moonlit ground so black it v.'ould look solid and like some- 
 thing lying there in wait. A\^here the shadov/s of trees 
 on the bluiT fell across the road all was black as. though 
 there was an abyss. Viy horse stopped. I could not 
 
 349 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 recognize anything. I heard the tinkhng of water. It 
 must be in the watering barrel at the spring. I gave my 
 horse the reins to go and find the water barrel and drink. 
 When it was through drinking it wanted to go back the 
 Five Oaks way. I had to pull it round. I could make 
 out the river road now. I thought I recognized the water 
 course with its bushes, along which I went. It was draw- 
 ing away from the road. The road became evener. The 
 land grew flat and spread out level and empty under the 
 moon. I could go faster now. I was sure I was on 
 the right road. The air grew cooler and thicker with 
 smoke and vapor. The moonlight formed queer, long- 
 drawn shafts in it and streaks crowding together ahead, 
 but always scattering as I came near. 
 
 Often I heard sounds. Some, I knew, were of travel- 
 ing birds. At times I fancied I caught the noise of some- 
 thing moving on the road behind, and turning in the sad- 
 dle I saw, I thought, something coming on. But it never 
 came any nearer. 
 
 Once I saw a light. That was not imagination. It 
 hung above the valley's floor. I knew it must be a brush 
 fire on some far-away hill. 
 
 The road went on straight and straight. There were 
 more fences than I remembered. A dark streak in front 
 of me made me wonder, if already I had come to the 
 river. It was a long field of something growing, irri- 
 gated alfalfa, I thought it was, extending along both sides 
 of the road. A small noise from one side, far away, 
 sounded a little like the barking of a dog, but so faint, I 
 could not be sure. I remembered some talk I had heard 
 at Fountain Head, months ago, that some ])eople had 
 bought farm land in the valley and settled there. This 
 might be the place. I was glad when I had passed it. I 
 rode fast. 
 
 The fog and smoke had thickened so as to hide the 
 moon. I had just thought it must be drawing near morn- 
 
 350 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ing when I felt my horse noticing something ahead. Sud- 
 denly it grew quite clear. It was light in the east. The 
 road went down a short sag in the ground, and up again 
 to the top of a little swell, and I saw the glint of the 
 
 river. 
 
 I knew the sag in the ground. x\nd I knew the reedy 
 grass, bordering the water, but everything else was un- 
 known to me. There were no gardens, no plantations. 
 I had heard there had been an inundation of this part of 
 the big valley last winter, but I had had no idea what 
 that meant. The Chinese camp was all gone. No build- 
 ings of any kind were to be seen. Yet there must be a 
 landing somewhere, for the Boss certainly had fetched 
 his visitors from this place. So I followed the road turn- 
 ing down the river, till I came to it, below where the 
 Chinese camp had been. It was larger and run out a 
 good deal farther into the river than the former wharf 
 had been. A lot of firewood was piled upon it, which 
 made it look again more like the former landing. 
 
 I dismounted and took the saddle and bridle off the 
 horse and started to drive it back on the road. I walked 
 back with it a little beyond the swell and hollow in the 
 road, gave it a slap and told it to go home, as we used 
 to do in the fields of Five Oaks when we sent a horse 
 home. It walked a few steps and stood still, looking 
 round at me. Then I ran to it, petted it, ran with it a 
 short distance, slapped it again, telling it to go home; 
 and it went, gradually going faster, till pretty soon I 
 could not see it any more, nor hear it. And then I began 
 
 to be sorry. 
 
 I walked back to the landing. I twisted the bridle to- 
 gether and flung it into the river as far as I could. It 
 did not make a loud splash, which I took for a sign that 
 it had gone down well. The saddle I dragged to the 
 edge of the wharf planking and tumbled it over. It made 
 a good splash. I went behind the woodpile and listened, 
 
 351 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 concluding if anybody at all were near, they would show 
 themselves now to find out what that splash had been. 
 ] did hear some noises too, some rustling in the tule- 
 grass, sounding very much like a boat being pushed 
 through them, but I judged it to be only the movement 
 of marsh birds. 
 
 It was daylight now. Far away, where our hills must 
 be, the tule-fog hung whitish. I had always liked the 
 low fogs coming round our hills like the waters of the 
 bay. I had a feeling now, wishing I were there to see it. 
 
 I heard what must be the noise of the steamboat. 1 
 saw her smoke. She was quite near. From her smoke- 
 stack the smoke was streaming away, studded with sparks. 
 The whistle blew. Hardly had she been made fast be- 
 fore a gang plank was run out. and the deck hands went 
 to work taking in firewood. 
 
 I went right on board on the lower deck, nobody mind- 
 ing me. I moved about carelessly till I found a good, 
 dark place, abaft the engine from where I could see the 
 gangplank and everybody coming on board. Some 
 freight was stored there on which some people were 
 sitting and lying, half asleep, and there I laid me down 
 as though asleep. 
 
 T thought the taking in of the firewood never would 
 end. Every time one of the steamer's crew came passing 
 by, I felt as though he must be looking for me, and al- 
 though I had one of my five-dollar pieces ready to pay my 
 fare, I dreaded being spoken to, questioned and having 
 to invent some untruthful replies, which always was my 
 weak point. All the time people were passing by the 
 place where I lay : deckhands and officers too. One time 
 one thrust a lantern right in my face, hut he did not look 
 at me. only behind mo. looking for a {package or box, ex- 
 cusing himself to me for disturbing mo. No one ever 
 asked for my fare. 
 
 .\t last the boat v.n< niovins'. working an'l creakino^ a 
 
 35^ 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 good deal, and tl-.en I fell asleep; and when T awoke I 
 found we were on a big water, which must be the bay, 
 and it must be afternoon. Some country people were 
 on board. They were keeping together as if they were 
 neighbors at home. I went to stand near them on the 
 lower, forward deck and kept as close to them as was 
 feasible, so that to any casual observer it might appear 
 that I belonged to them. Some boys were with them 
 and they spoke to me. They did not ask me where I 
 came from ; they seemed to take it for granted that I was 
 from the steamer-town on the river. They were friendly 
 children. I liked them. And I well remember the deso- 
 late feeling I regarded them with, longing in my heart to 
 be like them v;ith folks of my own. One of them gave 
 me a couple of applies which I wa= very glad to get to 
 eat as I was very hungry. 
 
 Looking ahead, I saw that we were coming to a big 
 place of a lot of houses on hilly ground, all in smoke and 
 fog. It must be the city. A cold wind was blowing 
 sharph.'. I seemed to know the wind. I seemed to know 
 some of the hills round about too. And I knew the water. 
 It w^as past slack water. In the water, in a winding line, 
 was a long fringe string of fruit and vegetables and other 
 things, orange-, potatoes strav;. boxe=. which showed the 
 edge of the incoming tide a^ I had seen it hundreds of 
 times. A couple of fishing boats were slipping by; sev- 
 eral steamers were moving; a ferryboat came quite close 
 in a rush of foam. 
 
 We were at the tov;n. It was all houses and shipping 
 and wharves. I knew none of it. We were hauling up 
 to a v.'harf. which was enclosed like a shed. Many people 
 were standing there, looking up at u^. Some street boy.s 
 were about. I noticed their eying me. and I knew I 
 should have to fight some of them ^ome time. One of 
 them looked particularly hard at me. He was dressed a 
 good deal as I was, in overalls and gray, flannel shirt. 
 
 353 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 When I left the boat in the crowd I found myself at the 
 bottom of the gangway face to face with him and he 
 looked as if he might pitch into me then and there, only 
 that he thought I belonged to the people I was with. I 
 see his tough, blocky face now, as I think of it. 
 
 The people kept on crowding. We had come through 
 the gate of the wharf-shed and were in the open street. 
 There was a deafening noise of thundering trucks, 
 thumping carts, screaming of steam whistles, shouting and 
 calling of men, ringing and clanging of bells. A violent 
 wind, damp with rushing fog and dusky gray with smoke 
 and dust almost held me pinned to the side of the shed. 
 The stream of passengers landed from the steamboat, was 
 drifting away from me, and I followed the scattering 
 drift till it was all scattered, and one might wonder what 
 had become of it. 
 
 If there is anything I can recall vividly it is my turning 
 back to go into an eating house I had just passed, to 
 ask for work, so as not to have to spend any of my ten 
 dollars for getting something to eat which I wanted badly. 
 The place was quite empty. When I spoke to a waiter 
 standing in the doorway, two, three other waiters came 
 up to hear what I had to say. and they were so pleasant, 
 1 had at first great hopes they would put me to work right 
 away. But I got no work and nothing to eat. 
 
 zA.fter that I went to every eating house on the street, 
 asking if there was any work for me to do in payment 
 for a meal. Without knowing it I was imitating Hants 
 in one of his exploits he more than often told me of, when 
 he had one time come to the city, dead broke, and had 
 gone, as I did now, to every eating house on the water 
 front asking for work in exchange for something to eat, 
 till he had gotten it. I came very near giving it up, 
 though. Everywhere I was told I was too small, too 
 young. Some of the restaurant men offered to give me 
 a meal if I had no money to pay for one. But that I 
 
 354 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 would not accept. One stung me prett\' badly by telling 
 me I was too dirty looking for his place. Upon my then 
 asking him in reply to let me go to his yard-sink and 
 wash myself, he ordered me out of his shop. I was some- 
 what dusty, I suppose. 
 
 For all this I kept on asking for work till I struck the 
 coffee saloon of Bob, who set me to work washing dishes, 
 and where I remained. It was a very small place with a 
 short counter with turn-stools in front, a narrow gas 
 range behind the counter, and a few tables and chairs in 
 back. 
 
 Bob's real name was, he told me the first thing, Mr. 
 Duncan Hamilton ; and he laid such stress on it that I 
 thought he rather disliked being called Bob, and there- 
 fore started in to call him Mr. Hamilton : but very soon 
 found out that he believed I did it to make fun of him, 
 and desisted, easing it off with calling him Mr. Bob for 
 awhile. 
 
 Another thing he told me right away as he set me to 
 work was that if the union came after him he would have 
 to let me go ; but his place being so small and out of the 
 way they generally left him alone, as he usually did all 
 his own work, too. For if he had to hire help he could 
 not make expenses. To me. however, it appeared that 
 he would have done better if he had had at least one man 
 to help him serve his customers, who came all in a crowd 
 and rush at meal times. And how he had done without 
 me, I could not see at all. 
 
 For this reason I ventured next day to stay there and 
 go to work unbidden, and then day after day, continuing 
 steadily to work. And since I asked for no pay, only my 
 meals and a sleeping place on the shelf on the back porch, 
 he was very willing to have me retain my position as part 
 dish washer and part waiter, even after I took up boot- 
 blacking. 
 
 He w^as very close and stingy, which of course I must 
 
 355 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 have quickly noticed after the Hberalness I had at Five 
 Oaks been used to, and been taught by both my men to 
 consider proper and due to myself to practice under all 
 circumstances. He was suspicious too. Behind the shop 
 on the back porch was a closet, a sink and a washtub, 
 where some of the customers would wash themselves be- 
 fore eating, and where I daily washed myself and washed 
 my clothes, and to which place, being ready at hand, pri- 
 vate and rather dark, I would, during the first week or 
 two slip out and pretend to do some washing, or even go 
 hiding in the closet, when overcome by the paroxysms of 
 my homesick despair. Then Bob would be watching, ner- 
 vously speculating wdiat I could be up to, suspecting I 
 don't know what ; always looking for some hidden mean- 
 ing of what was said and done. 
 
 Equally great was his inquisitiveness, but as he had 
 a way of partially answering his own questions, and being 
 as credulous as he was suspicious, it was never difficult to 
 thwart his endeavors to find out what one did not want 
 him to know, and without having to take the trouble of 
 making up much of a story. 
 
 Such particulars 1 observed the first days, I may say 
 without really seeing, or understanding and knowing, be- 
 ing so disqualified by my homesickness. And yet I had 
 to hold myself enough together to undergo an almost 
 regular examination the first evening after business was 
 over. 
 
 The very first thing of all Bob wanted to know was if 
 T knew the ten commandments. And when I told him I 
 knew them both in Spanish and in English, but not so well 
 in English, he made me say them in both languages and 
 corrected me where I was wrong in English. I had to 
 promise him, too, that I would repeat them to myself 
 every morning and evening. 
 
 That T had ten dollars in gold he very soon had made 
 me acknowledge. He wanted me to leave them with him 
 
 356 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 for safe keeping, but I told him, I had promised the man 
 who gave them to me to keep them myself, and he said 
 no more about that. 
 
 I did once give him some money to keep for me, but 
 that was later, and I did not get it back. But in justice 
 to him I must state that I do not know if he was the one 
 that kept it from me. 
 
 He was too distrustful to let me sleep in the shop on one 
 of the tables, but he allowed me to lay myself down on 
 the wide shelf on the open porch in the rear of the shop 
 the first night. Before long, however, he repented of 
 having given this permission, and after locking the shop 
 and going to his lodgings he came back to tell me he would 
 rather I should pick out for me a place to lie in and sleep 
 in the old lumber yard that surrounded the porch and tlie 
 house on three sides. I was by this time feeling so miser- 
 able that I hardly cared what became of me, but because 
 I did not want him to see me cry, I pretended after the 
 first moment of alarm at his reappearance to be dead 
 asleep when he came to talk to me. And I heard all his 
 doubts and considerations, never moving, till he had talked 
 himself out, had lingered in irresolute silence for some 
 time, had gone away, had come back a second time to look 
 at me once more, finally going away for good, leaving me 
 to my untenable relief alone with my agony. 
 
 If I had been unhappy before with homesick grief, what 
 was I now ! 
 
 I slept from exhaustion, to awake to the same, horrible 
 noise in the early morning, the smoke and flying mist and 
 dust, the dirt, the foul smells, the cold, damp wind ! 
 
 Was this the home I once had pined for? And had I 
 fondly listened for this roar of the streets, which now 
 nearly drove me out of my head, and which it seemed 
 impossible ever to get away from ? 
 
 357 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Aiul thus it appears to me to have been continually dur- 
 ing the whole following couple of months of my stay in 
 the city. Whenever my thoughts go back to this period 
 of my life, they are accompanied by a feeling as though 
 the dirty gloom of smoke and dust and fog, covering and 
 infolding the big town, had bodily fallen on me, staining 
 every observation, dulling all perceptions, tainting every 
 emotion, darkening my whole soul, being as much cause 
 as effect of the outbreak of my inborn melancholy, which 
 now came into fullest play. 
 
 1 felt nothing but my homesick misery, knew nothing 
 to do but to give myself up to it : hiding the unoccupied 
 moments of the day and the blessed nights, lying crying 
 in secret places, mostly the recesses of the old lumber 
 yard in back of our shop. My longing for the places 1 
 had left in the country was so intense, there were mo- 
 ments when the mere recollecting, the thinking of the 
 little house on the hill, of but the rounding up of the hill- 
 side against the sky, of but a broken fence rail, a dry leaf 
 on the ground, was enough to unman me. 
 
 What I could at the same time distinguish enough so as 
 to strike me as peculiar was that in my melancholy griev- 
 ing, there was a certain satisfaction, in my very unhappi- 
 ness a definite sweetness, which made me abandon myself 
 to it the more. And I could also at that time remember 
 that it had been the same, or nearly the same at Five 
 Oaks, when I was so very homesick at my first coming 
 there. Only now it was worse. 
 
 Perhaps it made me more indifferent to what might 
 happen to me; and I may have been the better off for 
 that. My dreams, certainly, visited me very seldom dur- 
 ing this time. And if the old terrors were still there, 
 why should I care ? Was it not all misery and wretched- 
 ness anyhow ? 
 
 How I first came to gain some self-conscious insight 
 into the questions and conditions of my present life and 
 
 358 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 being, and then to reason on them, to suspect the harmful- 
 ness of my immoderate grieving, the mischief of it to 
 myself, and how I first began to become sensible that 
 I must subdue it, exert myself, force myself to it, all this 
 1 know but so little of that I cannot attempt to think it 
 out and tell it ; but the comprehension did come and the 
 resolution. And I think it is again the old German school- 
 master, whom principally I have to thank for teaching 
 me so much self -observation and self-discipline, and I 
 owe nearly as much to the personally direct and more 
 practical treatment of Hants and his example. 
 
 And again I must give my passionate grieving credit 
 for doing me what perhaps was a great advantage. For 
 my homesickness was not alone my longing for the homes 
 I had lost, it was my child's heart's craving for father and 
 mother, the despair of the homeless, the feeling of the 
 nothingness of life without some one to cherish and be 
 loved by. If I had never met my father at the time I did, 
 if at that time of my life I had not known anybody to 
 show me affection and whom I learned to love so passion- 
 ately, everything would have been different. The life at 
 the old wharf would never have become the most hal- 
 lowed, which it was, of all my life. Homesick I should 
 ever have been, but never to the extent that shaped my 
 whole life. I should have been drawn away from it easier, 
 brought to mingle with the crowd that grows up in the 
 streets. And who can promise that in spite of all the 
 principles I had been given, I might not have been one 
 of the many of that crowd who founder and are lost m 
 the ocean of evil in their surroundings. Now, quite a 
 child yet and belonging to nobody, all alone in my misery, 
 thinking with tenderness of everyone I ever had known, 
 feeding even on loving memories of our most obstrep- 
 erous pigs at Five Oaks, the giving myself up altogether 
 to my sorrow isolated me. I was kept to myself, away 
 from associations only too vicious and eager to corrupt. 
 
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CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 From time to time came to me the recollection of my 
 father, and he alv/ays appeared to me as different from 
 other people as he ever had done. I had, I very v^^ell 
 knew, actually belonged to Nick and Nello at that time 
 more than to him, and later much more to Hants and 
 France, even more to the Boss, to Jim, and Antonio be- 
 fore, and to Bob now, but he had always belonged to me. 
 Fie had loved me as nobody else ever had. And he loved 
 me and belonged to me still. I do not remember that I 
 ever wondered who he was, where he might be, if I should 
 ever meet him again. It seems I should have done so, 
 but I do not remember that I did. 
 
 Of the other man I had less apprehension than at Foun- 
 tain Head, and I tried to think still less about him. Yet, 
 one evening, when for some purpose I had gone up town 
 to the main shopping streets of the city and saw walking 
 right before me on the crowded sidewalk in the bright 
 light of the show windows a man who looked so much 
 like him it very likely was he, I felt the terrors as near as 
 at Fountain Head. 
 
 It may have been my father. For however it was, the 
 image in me of Richard Alanus to my father had to a 
 great extent driven the one image of my father out of 
 my mind, extinguished it, or rather absorbed it. I could 
 call up something of the look of my father's eyes, his 
 manner, the touch of his hand, but not much else. When 
 I (lid see him again I thought at the first moment it was 
 the other. 
 
 I never again went to the main shopping parts of the 
 town. 
 
 I did go once to the old wharf. That is I believe I 
 must have gone there. I remember nothing about it, but 
 there is in me a picture of the old wharf the existence 
 of which I can hardly explain, except I really saw the 
 wharf that way. It shows perfectly plain the wharf at 
 
 360 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 dawn, reflected on die calm surface of die bay the boats 
 gone, the shanty gone, the whole place deserted. 
 
 The shanty was burnt down and the planknig charred, 
 that is the reason why I think I must actually have seen 
 the place For I did not then know the shanty was burnt 
 down. Otherwise I should not believe I had been there 
 at all I had a very strong feeling, I know, of its being 
 a very unsafe place for me to go to, apt to be visited 
 and watched by any pursuer of mine. It is possible of 
 course that I had accidentally learned and ajtervvards 
 forgotten that the shanty was burnt down and that the 
 picture in my mind is a product of my imagination or a 
 dream of either of which I am not conscious. For one 
 thing i should think it very strange, if I did find my way 
 some early morning along the water front to the old 
 wharf, that I then should not have gone to Mr. iem 
 Oldock's old brewery, which I did not do, or I should 
 
 know it. , . , . 
 
 Once I recollect being far uptown, wandering about, 
 going up very steep streets and getting a far and wide 
 view over the city, so extensive indeed, that I felt amazed 
 at the size of the town. 
 
 I have no idea of having any object in going there, but 
 I fancy I went to look if I could place our wharf, ihe 
 day was clear of fog and there was but little wind, 
 think it was very late in the year, and the ram was still 
 holding off. The smoke was spread over the whole city 
 and out to sea. It was like seeing things through a thm. 
 dirty black veil. One house I especially remember a 
 fine house with a high front wall of straw-colored bricks, 
 steps of white stone and wide circle-head windows with 
 glass that was polished like a mirror. At one of the win- 
 dows between the pushed-back, crimson and white drap- 
 ery stood a boy, a very handsome boy, bigger than I very 
 nicely dressed. I stood still and looked at him. He did 
 not look at me, although he must have seen me. Pretty 
 
 361 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 soon he glanced at me and with a contemptuous face 
 turned away behind the curtains. And I remember per- 
 fectly walking away, saying: "I am just as good as you." 
 After the first night Bob had nothing more to say 
 against my sleeping on the porch. I hated it because it 
 was so dirty and could not be kept clean, but its great 
 advantage was the nearness and accessibility of the old 
 lumber yard on the sides and rear. I could climb up the 
 stacks to the top in scores of places and get away in all 
 directions from any pursuer. It was sheltered too by 
 different shed roofs and full of hiding places ; and it was 
 not infested with vagabonds. I think the lumber was in 
 litigation, liened or garnisheed. A watchman was about 
 there all the time, one by day and another by night. They 
 soon had become familiar enough with me to let me go 
 and come over the lumber as I wanted to. When I had 
 taken up bootblacking and worked at it some nights very 
 late, not coming back before Bob had closed the shop and 
 gone away, I had to get through the lumber yard to my 
 porch. But if it was at all possible I came back before 
 Bob closed the shop. I liked it. I liked to come and 
 see the light. That was now my home. 
 
 From the first moment I had seen some bootblack boys, 
 I had conceived the notion of going into that business 
 myself. Perhaps the idea had been .planted in me before 
 this, long before, and kept alive by what I had noticed 
 and heard. I must always have known that boys blacked 
 boots on the streets for money. Probably I must have 
 known such boys myself. 
 
 Two weeks after coming to the city I had bought from 
 an Italian bootblack boy his kit, the complete outfit, and 
 went hustling for work every free hour. And it was not 
 long before I found myself moneyed enough to buy me 
 
 362 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 clothes that I stood badly in need of. The better gar- 
 ments of these clothes, or what sailors would call their 
 .^hore clothes were to be worn, I presume, when I should 
 set out to try to locate Mr. Tem Oldock for 1 am pretty 
 sure that had been and still was my objective ponit though 
 I did not realize how my personal experiences, the reali- 
 ties of city life, together with my homesickness were 
 
 changing my objects. u n 4. 
 
 Bob, when I had told him of my project, had at the first 
 outset opposed it, because of course he wanted to keep 
 me working for him the way I was doing. But as that 
 was the very thing I was aiming at, we had no further 
 difficulty to come to an understanding which le t my time 
 about evenly divided between chop-house work in Bob s 
 place during meal hours and cleaning up time, and boot- 
 
 blackincr 
 
 My best customers were the seafaring men, and in one 
 certain sailor's boarding house called ^'George s Rancho, 
 I could always count on a dozen jobs daily, the great 
 objection, however, to that place being that the sailors 
 were all the time getting up fights between the boys, in 
 the large bar-room of the house, making bets on them, 
 setting all the boys coming into the place, bootblacks as 
 well as others, newsboys, peddlers, any boys, against each 
 other, often utterly corrupting them by giving them money 
 
 and drinks. , , , 
 
 It still seems to me that I was always the one that was 
 wanted to do the fighting. I had kept away from other 
 boys from the first. I had done it to hide my sorrow 
 from them. And indeed, I never wanted to fight any- 
 bodv But I was forced into it. And bigger boys were 
 pitted against me all the time. At the boardmg house 
 the men would see fair play, and I oftenest came out 
 victorious. But when I met some of those boys at other 
 narts of the water front I was liable to be set upon by 
 a whole crowd, and badly ill-treated, being a stranger, 
 
 363 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 too, nobody knew where from, and naturally hated as such 
 and as being given to retiring ways. I was in constant 
 danger, too, of being picked up by the police and put in 
 a reformatory school. 
 
 Another place where I took in a good many dimes was 
 at a ship chandler's, where a number of coasters' captains 
 congregated every morning or forenoon and whiled away 
 the hours till lunch time with telling stories, joking, teas- 
 ing each other, adjourning from time to time to the next- 
 door saloon and returning each time with increasing ban- 
 ter and laughter. Some of them were not very good pay 
 and would sometimes put me off from day to day and at 
 last make me compromise for as much as half my bill, in 
 order for me to get a settlement. 
 
 The worst one of these was Captain Cornelius Smid- 
 kins. He liked very much to get his shoes polished every 
 morning. In fact it was rather a particular weakness of 
 his to always want to have his footwear clean and well 
 shined. But he did not like at all to pay for it. It was 
 all quite comic, and I don't know but what already at that 
 time I could fully enjoy the humor of it. When I asked 
 him if he wanted a shine he would not answer but in a 
 self-forgetful sort of way put out his feet, and only after 
 the work was done and I was standing before him, mod- 
 estly waiting to be paid, would he pretend to notice what 
 had been done, coming to his senses like, crying in a 
 tone of annoyance: "Oh, I did not want you to polish 
 my shoes, 1 am dead-broke to-day." Or another time 
 he would ask: "How much money do I owe you now?" 
 And when I told him the sum, he would exclaim it was 
 too much, he would not pay that. I had no right to let 
 a bill run up that much. He did not mean to say that I 
 wanted to cheat him, he knew I was honest, but I was 
 mistaken. I should always collect my money at the finish 
 of each job, then no mistake like this could happen. Any- 
 how he had no money with him now, but if I were around 
 
 364 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 to-morrow or next day he would settle with me. But to- 
 morrow or next day he would say : "J^^st run your brush 
 over my shoes. Not a regular shine! I don't want a 
 shine. I only want the dust taken off. I have no money 
 to-day. I had to pay some small bills I did not think of 
 yesterday. I shall have plenty money to-morrow." And 
 to-morrow he would maybe pay me ten cents on account. 
 
 He was quite indifferent, too,, to the blackguarding of 
 the other skippers about this. They often and privately 
 urged me on to next time polish but one of his shoes, 
 leaving the other unblackened and refuse to polish it till 
 he paid me. But this I did not want to do. It seemed 
 mean to me, though again I felt it to be not fair to the 
 other customers, to let him get his work done for less 
 than they, and I had made up my mind to tell him so and 
 quit doing his work altogether, when the day came that 
 ended all this, the day I was set upon by three boy toughs 
 and had to fight for as good as my life, as I had often 
 forejudged I should and had, I thought, prepared myself 
 for. I was on my way to Bob's shop for supper. It was 
 rather early. I was crossing a planked lot where there 
 had been a small coal yard which was now removed, leav- 
 ing the place empty, excepting a large shed, half full of 
 junl:, when the three boys came rushing onto me from 
 behind out of the shed where they had been hiding, wait- 
 ing for me, as I often came that way going home. With 
 the first one of the three I had had a wrestling match 
 some days ago in the barroom of George's Rancho. He 
 was nearly my match. The second boy had not long ago 
 been pointed out to me as a fellow who had declared that 
 lie would break my face. He was smaller than I, but 
 older, built somewhat dwarfish, with short legs and very 
 long, strong arms and big hands. The third boy was the 
 Ijiggcst of all, perhaps thirteen years old. I did not know 
 him at all. He did not look as if he amounted to much. 
 
 They had me down and first were searching me for 
 
 365 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 money. For I bore the reputation of having money and 
 always carrying money on my person. They did not find 
 any. I had some sewed in the bottom of my overalls, 
 but they did not look there. The first boy was strad- 
 dling me and had his hand on my throat. The second 
 boy lay on my legs and held one of my hands with his 
 long reach. The third boy was holding my other hand 
 down. 
 
 ''Let us torture him," cried the third boy. ''He is only 
 a Greaser. I guess he is over ten, too, anyhow." 
 "Gouge his eye," croaked the long-armed devil. 
 "Wait," said the first boy," let me hook his nose first." 
 He was going to hook his fingers in my nostrils, but see- 
 ing some rough, stiff, pine splinters lying by, which seemed 
 to him more suitable, he grabbed some of them in a bunch 
 to drive them up my nose, when very awkwardly he turned 
 his hand so that I got two of his fingers between my 
 teeth and I bit them to the bone. 
 
 He gave shriek on shriek. He kicked ; he clawed with 
 his other hand. But I held on. I think he kicked the 
 second boy in the face. The third boy had let loose my 
 hand and most stupidly was trying to drag the first boy 
 away from me, dragging me up in the struggle. 
 
 As soon as I was on my feet I let go the fingers. T 
 turned and putting into it all my strength dealt the second 
 boy a left-handed, awfully lucky blow, square under the 
 jaw, that sent him backward falling and down like a log 
 of wood. I believe though that he had been badly hurt 
 by the kicking of the first boy ; and he had hardly gained 
 his feet. The first boy was keeping up his screaming. T 
 certainly had torn the flesh of his fingers. People were 
 coming running. The second boy lay like dead. Per- 
 haps I had broken his jaw. My hand felt broken, as 
 if T had hit a lump of iron with it. The third boy ran. 
 And I ran too. 
 
 I first ran up-hill. I hardlv knew what I was running 
 
 -5.66 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 away from. I had not done any wrong. T was not sorry 
 and I was not afraid, even if I knew enough to know 
 that there miglit trouble ensue for me. But I hated what 
 1 had had to do. The horrible taste of blood was in my 
 mouth, and I thought 1 had crunched the bones of the 
 fingers. 
 
 Then all at once the idea came into my head to go 
 away from this place, give up all this life. I could not 
 go back to Five Oaks, and I never had any thought of 
 doing that, but I could go to sea as Hants had done. 
 Probably the idea to go to sea had been in my head all 
 along. And if the encounter with these boys was the 
 last cause of my leaving town, I suspect the first and 
 real cause was my having seen that strange man in the 
 evening on the sidewalk in the shopping streets of the 
 town. 
 
 I had stopped running and turned to go down hill again 
 in another direction to the water front, where some coast- 
 ing craft were always lying ready for sea. On one I saw 
 the name *'Good Fellow." which T knew was tlie name 
 of Captain Smidkin's vessel. 
 
 I am not sure that I should have selected Captain 
 Smidkins' as the one most agreeable to me, or he the most 
 agreeable captain to go to sea with, yet now that the ves- 
 sel here was his and ready for sailing next forenoon, as 
 T heard one asking a man on deck, whom I took to be the 
 watchman, I was eager to go and speak to him and went, 
 directed by the watchman, into the cabin where I found 
 Captain Smidkins alone at his desk, filing some papers, 
 utterly surprising him. He evidently thought I had come 
 after some money he owed me yet. And there was some 
 money lying on his desk, too, which instinctively he cov- 
 ered quickly with some papers, knowing though as he 
 must; that I had seen it. 
 
 I understood it all plainly enough, and not to shame him 
 or anger him and thus injure my own cause, I right away 
 
 367 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 told him straightforward that I had come to ask him to 
 let me go to sea with him. When he understood that 
 I had not come for money, and that instead of wanting 
 money from him I had some little money saved up that 
 I wanted him to collect for me from Bob, who was taking 
 care of it for me, together with my new clothes, I felt I 
 could consider my case won. Of course I had to do 
 some more talking. I did not tell him how sick I was 
 of the life on the water front and the whole city life, how 
 much I wanted to get away from the riotous uproar there, 
 but I told him I liked his vessel and wished to sail in her, 
 that he need not pay me any wages, if only he gave me 
 my board and clothes, that I could pull an oar or scull and 
 handle a boat, a small boat I meant; that I also could 
 cook a plain meal if it came to that, and would serve him 
 faithfully, and at the same time keep his shoes always 
 polished neatly. Also that I had no father nor mother nor 
 anybody to whom I belonged, so that he ran no risk of 
 becoming responsible for me to anybody. 
 
 My clothes he brought me next morning, but not the 
 money. Whether Mr. Duncan Hamilton kept it, deny- 
 ing that I had any in his keeping as Captain Smidkins re- 
 ported, or whether Captain Smidkins collected and then 
 subverted it to balance my indenture I have never been 
 able to decide by myself. 
 
 The tug was alongside. We cast off our lines and were 
 towed outside the heads, where we could make a fair 
 wind for the southern coast. I was more than half at 
 home aboard ship already from my former acquaintance 
 with vessels. I was not seasick. I was in a way happy 
 to be clear of the life T had been leading, but yet, when 
 the town had vanished in fog and smoke, and only a fa- 
 ding glow, as the evening advanced, showed where it was 
 located, far and farther away, a lonely feeling of loss 
 gave my heart a twinge, making me think of the lighted- 
 up water front street. Bob in his place, the sizzling chops 
 
 368 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 and steaks filling the whole shop with fatty steam, the 
 longshoremen, deckhands, coal heavers all crowding in, 
 so many people I had come to know, who had so^ many 
 times shown me kindness, giving me words of friendly, 
 joking encouragement. 
 
 September. 
 
 When I came to Mr. Mauresse's new residence this 
 morning it was before the appointed time and before Mr. 
 DeLang had come. I heard from one of the workmen 
 that Mr. Mauresse had already been there. Mr. DeLang 
 was rather late and seemed a trifle put out about the mis- 
 carrying of his appointment with Mr. Mauresse. For it 
 had been a fixed appointment, I now came to understand, 
 for Mr. Mauresse to meet us. However by questioning 
 among the men working on the building Mr. DeLang at 
 last found a plumber's helper, with whom Mr. Mauresse 
 had left word for Mr. DeLang to send the gardener to the 
 hotel, this evening, making Mr. DeLang quite satisfied 
 
 now. 
 
 "I thought," he said, "it might be better if I was pres- 
 ent at your meeting the gentleman here. I might be able 
 to put a word in now and then that would help you along. 
 But if he wants you at the hotel, all right! The hotel 
 means the wife. You will see the whole family. All you 
 have to do now is to let them have what they want." And 
 he proceeded to give me in his slowest way snudry advice, 
 counsel and instruction how to let everybody have their 
 way, but at the same time to take care of my own interest, 
 which I rather inclined to disregard, he thought. Very 
 seriously he cautioned me not to give right ofT any esti- 
 mate or figure of cost or make a mere guess at price. If 
 I wanted him to, he said, he willingly would sit down m 
 his oflfice and go over my figures with me on the cost of 
 the thing, supposing I had made any figures as yet at all. 
 Or if I had not, he could give me the bigger part of 
 all to-morrow to assist me to figure up the job and make 
 
 369 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 an intelligent bid. For that was what Mr. Mauresse 
 would want to arrive at, an understanding, a contract. 
 
 He spoke more friendly like than ever. It moved me 
 so, I could hardly answer "yes" and "no." What 
 makes him take such a friendly interest in me? What 
 have I done that he should want to be so helpful to 
 me? 
 
 But it is not what there is in me; it is not what 1 
 have done, what I am. To quote Ullard again: "It 
 is the other way, it is what there is in him. It is 
 his own helpfulness and goodness that acts and 
 works." 
 
 To show him my appreciation of his kindness, I 
 asked him to direct me to some nurserymen of whom 
 I could obtain prices of plants, and he wrote for me 
 letters of introduction to several. He made the ap- 
 pointment to meet me to-morrow a little before noon. 
 
 "My wife will be at home I understand," he ex- 
 plained, "and she will make us a little lunch. Then 
 I can give you the rest of the day. You better re- 
 port here to-morrow morning to be sure of our ar- 
 rangements. All right !" 
 
 I have seen, now, nearly all the florists Mr. DeLang 
 directed me to and some others besides. I have ob- 
 tained prices and samples of almost everything and the 
 address, I am certain, of everybody in any business 
 or trade or occupation connected in the remotest de- 
 gree with the doing of such a job as this. I am truly 
 a trifle bewildered. Business ! Business ! Everybody 
 seems to be fully on the alert as soon as that magic 
 word comes into play. I almost feel as though I had 
 caught a little of the spirit of it and can not say that 
 I dislike it. One belongs, as it is, to some sort of 
 special association, to be one of a set. There is a com- 
 munity of interests. And more. One does not only 
 become to the others of interest but of importance. 
 
 370 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Something about this pleases the conceit. I can under- 
 stand this and follow it; and yet I am no busmess 
 man; nor ever shall be! 
 
 One florist I called on is interested in a large seed- 
 farm in the upper part of Santa Clara valley. I 
 thought at first it must be near my father's ranch, 
 but from the description the man gave me it must be 
 on the other side of the valley. I questioned the man 
 about other landowners there and their tracts, but 
 found out nothing of my father's ranch. I am specu- 
 lating now on getting Mr. Mauresse interested m a 
 trip to that man's place for the selection of some dwarf 
 roses, which the man raises in great variety and which 
 could be used in the new garden with great effect. 
 If Mr. Mauresse would go there to select them him- 
 self and take me along or send me I might get a 
 chance to find out something about what has become 
 of my fathers place. 
 
 On my wav back from the nursery farthest out, 1 
 
 came within a block's distance from Mrs. Stillborn's 
 
 residence, and seeing Mrs. Stillborn in the grounds, 
 
 I walked that much out of my way over to the place. 
 
 She was cutting roses in the shrubbery, which divides 
 
 the barnyard from the side lawn, the lot being a large 
 
 corner lot, falling very steeply on the grade of the side 
 
 street to the rear, with the barn on the outer rear 
 
 end, opening onto the side street. I walked in through 
 
 the barn, seeing that she knew me again. "If there 
 
 is not that good for nothing Cholo," she cried. ''I 
 
 knew you would come back. What do you want? Did 
 
 I not tell you to stay away? Now. what do you 
 
 want?" 
 
 I raised my hat and with some exertion to keep 
 from laughing I answered very civilly, "You did 
 not absolutely forbid me to come back. You told me 
 not to come back expecting permanent employment. 
 
 3/1 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 More you could not anyhow very well forbid me to do. 
 And I am not here expecting a permanent situation. 
 I only want a day's work, or half a day's work to help 
 make my living. I know you have a regular gardener." 
 
 "You know ! You know nothing about it," she ex- 
 claimed. "Or perhaps you have heard that I dis- 
 charged the lazy good-for-nothing, and that is the rea- 
 son of your reappearance. But don't you flatter your- 
 self that you will get the situation. There is no situa- 
 tion and there will be none. What is the use of a 
 gardener? A common laborer, if he can only handle 
 a spade, is all that is required here. And since we have 
 given up our horses and carriage we need no coach- 
 man." 
 
 "I think so myself," I put in. 
 
 "You think! You think! Well, I don't know what 
 your thinking amounts to; I think the place demands 
 a gardener, if gardeners such as ought to be, could be 
 got." 
 
 "Very true." 
 
 "Oh," she cried, "you need not try to look as if you 
 were the only capable and reliable man in the country. 
 There are plenty as good as you and many more better. 
 I could get any number of offers from able and honest 
 men, if I would but advertise." 
 
 "No doubt!" 
 
 "No doubt?" she shouted, "I doubt it very much. 
 They are all robbers. Not one is to be trusted." 
 
 It was certainly quite entertaining to notice and 
 watch how concurrence with her in all her proposi- 
 tions acted on her peculiar temper, increasing her 
 anger, if anger is the right word for it, and I might 
 have been provoked to keep it up in the spirit of mis- 
 chief, to see how far she would go, only I am such a 
 poor actor; I really cannot act. And also, she had 
 really gone far enough and could but repeat her per- 
 
 372 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL A LAN US 
 
 formance. So I talked back to her, opposing her with 
 sensible contradictions speaking loud, too, if not as 
 loud as she did. 
 
 She came quicker to reason than I had expected. 
 Her struggle was but brief, and it all ended in her 
 offering me the job of keeping the grounds in trim. 
 As they are in good condition it will not take more, 
 than one day in a week to keep them so, unless she 
 makes changes. The amount of my wages I am to 
 settle with Mr. Stillborn. 
 
 I had to tell her of course that I could not enter 
 into any agreement till I had heard from another 
 person about a gardening job I was expecting to get. 
 She did not like this very much, but had to be satis- 
 fied with having me work for her this afternoon, for 
 which I am to receive a dollar and a half from Mr. 
 Stillborn as soon as I see him. she having no money 
 and never paying any bill whatever, always leaving 
 that for her husband to do, not even wanting to pay 
 me on an order, to be given me by her on her hus- 
 band and indorsed by me, which way of ending the 
 business I proposed for fun but which fun she did not 
 understand in the least. 
 
 That I felt a little elated at my victory over her is 
 true. Yet what is there to be elated about ! Anybody 
 with ordinary judgment, if he can but keep his temper, 
 must be able to manage her. I have before this known 
 people who had to be treated with contradiction and 
 opposition. It does interest me a little to try to make 
 her out. She has common sense. At least she knows 
 it when she meets it. At bottom she seems to be 
 equally good-natured or, indeed, soft-natured and con- 
 trary. Perhaps she is not so very contrary after all, 
 only of a lively disputing turn. At the end of the 
 dispute she is then quite willing to give in and do what 
 one wished of her. There is even a motherly way 
 
 373 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 about her. And I am sure she very much likes to be 
 coaxed. Mr. Stillborn I dare say, aggravates her case, 
 by being so taciturn, so more than undemonstrative 
 and unresisting, so frozen mannered as I take him to 
 be. And she again, I don't doubt, aggravates him. 
 I suppose there are no children. Children would have 
 cured both their cases long ago. Another thing chil- 
 dren might have been a cure for is her saving spirit, 
 as it appears. 
 
 Now to the hotel ! From one comedy to another. 
 
 Late night. 
 
 One more failure to find out anything! 
 
 Mr. DeLang was right in saying that I should see 
 the whole family. They were all there. And they 
 were all full of Paris. I had to wait no great length 
 of time before I had the opportunity of mentioning 
 Mahon and asking Mrs. Mauresse if during her resi- 
 dence in Paris she had met Mahon or heard of him. 
 She tried to think, to remember. The whole family came 
 to her assistance, trying to think, to remember. Everyone 
 of the first class hotels in Paris was mentioned, some 
 country places, too, but all to no purpose. I could 
 only explain that Mahon Mark Tem Oldock was the 
 son of Mr. John Tem Oldock, whom Mr. Mauresse 
 must certainly know by name, that I had known him 
 when a boy, had gone to school with him for about a 
 year but was not in the same grade, since he was 
 several years older than I. He had then gone with his 
 father to Europe and I had afterwards heard that he 
 was living in Paris. And his father who was in Boston 
 had grown very rich. 
 
 "Yes, very rich!" sneered Mr. Mauresse. *Tf Tem 
 Oldock was a young man, he would die in the poor- 
 house. As it is he will probably die before he gets there." 
 
 I was rather early in coming. They were still at 
 dinner. A waiter showed me a seat in the parlor, 
 
 374 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 bringing me word to wait a few minutes. They seem to 
 occupy quite a number of rooms, including a private 
 dining room, all very lavishly decorated. 
 
 Pretty soon Mr. Mauresse entered the room with a 
 couple of young men, who, I think, I saw at his place of 
 business when I delivered my sketch there. They 
 were in evening dress, and two young ladies coming 
 in after them, nieces of Mrs. Mauresse, I learned after- 
 wards, were in full dress. Full dress was indeed 
 the order. And I am sure it must lend in importance to 
 the principal meal of the day, even if does not altogether 
 improve the appearance of the head of the family. 
 
 How the possession of a fine family and wealth 
 invests a man, even otherwise not framed for it, with 
 dignity! Only he must not be an absolute fool, I 
 suppose. And Mr. Mauresse is no fool. And the 
 family is fine : seven beautiful children ! And the 
 wife! 
 
 At first sight of her it was impossible not to think of 
 Mrs. De Lang's remark. Then for some moments I was 
 lost in admiration. 
 
 Astonishing is her fairness. She is a perfect blonde 
 with beautiful, pale, deep-sea blue eyes, her somewhat 
 level eyebrows and eyelashes are a few shades darker 
 than her hair. Her complexion is most lovely ; pale, yet 
 free of all milkiness, not pink, nor blushing red, still with 
 a soft glow of freshness and health! And she is the 
 mother of seven children! One after another, smaller 
 and smaller, they kept coming in by all doors. "Another 
 county heard from," she would exclaim and laugh as one 
 appeared ; all like her in shapeliness, beauty of features, 
 figure, complexion, only with rather darker hair, boys and 
 girls. 
 
 Mr. Mauresse's first words had been : **How much ? 
 What is it going to cost?'' And as I lifted my shoulder, 
 he cried: "An idea! I only want an idea. You must 
 
 375 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 have an idea. Give us an idea." However, following 
 Mr. De Lang's advice, I gave him no idea. 
 
 When Airs. Mauresse presently had entered, he had 
 for a while not spoken. In a way he seemed to be dis- 
 playing her, though it was but to an ordinary gardener : 
 her beauty, her gown, her lace, her jewels; certainly he 
 was proud of her, and well he might be. 
 
 Her arms were bare and her neck, showing the most 
 lovely throat and shoulders. She was all in white with a 
 bluish orchid on the corsage below the right shoulder. 
 Over her shoulders went cords, the twisted strands of 
 which were strings of pearls fastened to the bodice with 
 diamond clasps. She wore a collar of three or four 
 strings of larger pearls with half a dozen cross bars of 
 very large diamonds and on the left arm, to balance the 
 orchid, I suppose, half way between the dimpling elbow 
 and the shoulder was clasped a bracelet of still larger 
 diamonds, just denting the skin. Diamonds were on her 
 breast, her belt, on her fingers, in her ears, in her hair. 
 
 For more than an hour my sketch was discussed, every- 
 body, to the smallest child, having in good democratic 
 manner their say about every flower, but nothing finally 
 was changed. I was told to do my figuring and hand in 
 my bid on the work in accordance with the sketch as it 
 stood. 
 
 "Make your figure carefully as low as you can," Mr. 
 Mauresse impressed on me several times, "as low as pos- 
 sible, and I shall give you the preference." 
 
 I do not know about getting any preference; that is, 
 more than another one. I don't take Mr. Mauresse for 
 a man to give preferences in such a manner much; but 
 at the same bid as another I think the job will be given to 
 me. And I feel as indififerent about it now as possible. 
 Probably it was the expectation of learning something of 
 Mahon's life in Paris which gave this job its main interest. 
 Well, at least Mr. Mauresse knows Mr. Tem Oldock or 
 
 376 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 of him. And so there must be others. I should inquire. 
 Perhaps Mr. De Lang knows something. 
 September. 
 
 I saw Mr. De Lang this morning and reported prog- 
 ress. He sent me off to different contractors to find out 
 the cost of certain materials. At eleven o'clock I was 
 back at Mr. Mauresse's place, and Mr. De Lang was here 
 to take me to his house in his buggy. 
 
 ^'I understand my wife is going to be home," he said, 
 "but I am not sure. I thought she had gone to Berkeley 
 to see her cousin. I sent word there for her to come 
 home. But if she did not get it and she is not home, we 
 can get dinner afterwards somewhere. We shall find 
 enough in the pantry now for a sandwich or two." 
 
 But she was come home and all smiles. She quickly 
 set the table for us in the kitchen and took a seat at it 
 with us. Her husband's message had just caught her 
 somewhere and just come at the right time, she pro- 
 fessed, for she had never in her life felt so much like 
 having a nice, cosy lunch at home. And so she fixed 
 everything all right. 
 
 When I said soemthing about my seeing Mrs. Mauresse 
 at the hotel last night she became very much interested, 
 and I had to tell her all I had observed, and then she ex- 
 claimed that she was all astonishment that I had noticed 
 and remembered so much. 
 
 "Well," I told her, "T have everything down black on 
 white: her lace and her jewels and her dimpling elbows; 
 everything ! I put it down on purpose, not to forget any- 
 thing. I knew you would want to hear about it." 
 
 "Oh' I love to hear it," she cried. "Is not that a bad 
 twitch she has in her left cheek ?> They say she got that 
 trving to work a dimple in the cheek. You did not notice 
 it? No? But the funniest thing I ever saw in all my 
 life is that as soon as the cold summer winds set in, her 
 nose turns pink, 
 
 377 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 "How can you say that?" interposed Mr. De Lang, 
 quite ruffled. "How can you know anything like that 
 about her at all? You have not seen her but once or 
 twice. She has been away for years. You never saw 
 her since she came back but once or twice. And I don't 
 believe you ever saw her before that time." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I did. And I know. The girl that manicures 
 me works on her, too. Ellen, you know !" 
 
 I asked Mr. De Lang if he knew Mr. Tem Oldock. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "if you mean John Tem Oldock, the 
 rich Tem Oldock. That is," he corrected himself, "I 
 know who he is. I am not acquainted with him person- 
 ally. Why?" 
 
 "Oh," I answered, "I know him a little. I used to know 
 his boy when I was a boy. His name was mentioned last 
 night, and Mr. Mauresse declared that if Mr. Tem Oldock 
 was a young man he would die in the poorhouse, but, 
 being an old man, he would probably die before he got 
 there. He is very rich, is he not ?" 
 
 Mr. De Lang, still somewhat ruffled, called out, "You 
 should have told Mr. Mauresse there might be people who 
 talked that way about himself ; other rich people." Then 
 he added with more coldness, "I don't know anything 
 about Tem Oldock's affairs, nor about him, himself at 
 all, except what one reads in the daily papers and hears 
 on the street. He is known here because he took his rise 
 here in this town, his first rise. He is one of the very 
 many, very rich men of the country. At least he has the 
 name of being. He is, generally speaking, considered a 
 very enterprising man. Probably he has a good many 
 irons in the fire. Men like him have to have. I reckon 
 he knows how to take care of himself." 
 
 After that Mr. De Lang was silent, and I thought he 
 felt sorry for having shown anger. 
 
 And now, lunch over, we set ourselves down to work. 
 Mr. De Lang is very methodical, such as I had expected 
 
 378 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 him to be. I think I have learned enough from him in 
 this one afternoon to henceforth do my own figuring. 
 He directed me to make another plot or ground plan of 
 the improvements, a plain line drawing on tough, brown 
 paper, what he called a working plan on a much larger 
 scale than the original sketch. Of this he bade me make 
 three tracings. And mostly from his dictation I had to 
 write specifications of the different materials and work 
 and two copies of each. The marble work will be the 
 most expensive part of the whole job. The drawings for 
 it ought to be elaborated more. But Mr. De Lang says 
 the marble men will submit drawings for all those parts 
 afterwards, and moldings and carvings to be selected. He 
 made an unfinished sketch of the ornamental cheeks of 
 the marble steps. He is a far better draughtsman than 
 I am. And he likes that kind of work; I suppose that is 
 partly the secret of his busying himself so much with this 
 job. I told him I thought he would make a very good 
 architect. He shook his head ; "he had no ideas," he said. 
 Mrs. De Lang came in while we were at work. She came 
 to bid us good-by. She was going out. She did not say 
 any more than just that, ''she was going out." He seemed 
 to feel some compunction for having spoken a little 
 harshly at luncheon. But his manner is such one can 
 hardly tell his anger from his repentance. He asked her 
 if she wanted any money. She said, ''no," very pleas- 
 antly. He did not ask her where she was going nor when 
 she was coming back. 
 
 Accidentally, in turning, she brushed against me. She 
 
 smiled. 
 
 September. 
 
 All this day I have been going with Mr. De Lang ni 
 his buggy from place to place to get offers, estimates, bids, 
 on the materials and also some work for the different 
 parts of Mr. Mauresse's gardening job. To the marble 
 men we went first and left drawings and specifications 
 
 379 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 with them for figuring, returning later in the day for the 
 bid. Toward evening he took me back to his house, 
 where we went over all the figures and made out my 
 bid, which I wrote out according to his dictation, signed 
 and closed. Then, together with my original sketch, and 
 also one of the tracings of the working plan, and one copy 
 of the speicfications, I took it to Mr. Mauresse's place of 
 business. It was so late I had expected the gentleman to 
 be gone home. But he was there I and I handed him the 
 papers. 
 
 He made as though he would open the envelope con- 
 taining the bid, but desisted and put all the papers on his 
 desk, turning to face me, almost like wanting to prevent 
 me from getting at them again. 
 
 "Well, sir," he said, "I hope this will be satisfactory." 
 
 J replied that I had figured the job carefully, as low 
 as possible, as he had told me to do, and that I hoped 
 to get it. 
 
 "If you are five cents the lowest, I give you the prefer- 
 ence," he assured me. "I shall let you know on Monday: 
 I shall inform Mr. De Lang. He has told me that he will 
 be your bondsman. He is a good man. If we come to an 
 understanding, you may then right away go to my archi- 
 tect and sign the contract he will draw up. And the 
 bond. There is no necessity of having a lawyer draw 
 up the papers. The architect can do it just as well, better 
 in fact, and much cheaper. I am saving you that much 
 money. You pay for the contract, you know. And you 
 pay for the bond. And the acknowledgment. I know 
 Mr. De Lang, and I know he is a good man, but I must 
 have his signature acknowledged before a notary public. 
 Business ! And it is proper that you should pay for that, 
 not I. Or he, as you arrange it. I don't care. It will 
 cost half a dollar. What is half a dollar? You make 
 that on the job in half an hour. Don't tell me! Mr. De 
 Lang is a good man." 
 
 380 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Mr. De Lang invited me to dine with him to-night. I 
 told him I ought to be the one to pay for the dinner 
 this time. He said I had better wait till the contract was 
 signed before I invited people to dinners on the job. As I 
 came home just now from Mr. Mauresse's offices, to clean 
 up a little for the dinner, Mrs. Carpenter scared me by 
 handing me a letter. I had vision of Mr. Snivers. It 
 was from Mr. Brown, asking me to call about some work. 
 I am going to Mr. De Lang's now. I can truly say, I 
 wish he had not invited me. Mrs. De Lang has not been 
 home since yesterday afternoon. He was rather in a 
 peculiar humor all day to-day. I thought at first this 
 morning he had heard from her. Maybe he has. I don't 
 want to ask. 
 
 Late night. 
 
 Mr. De Lang took me to dinner at the same place where 
 we dined before. After dinner he invited me to go to the 
 theatre wath him. I have been avoiding all theatres. I 
 know how they affect me. I tried to excuse myself. But 
 a few glasses of claret had given sway in him to a clam- 
 orous insistence on having his way that I had to submit 
 to. We went to a variety theatre. It was not much 
 more than an ordinary place, yet all the conditions of it, 
 the lights, the music, the crowd and their noise, the acts 
 and even the very poor scenery excited me to high 
 degree, awakening I don't know what all in me. 
 
 A young, Spanish looking girl was one of the perform- 
 ers. Twelve years old I took her to be. The play bill 
 called her vStella, and her act an acrobatic dance, that was 
 about the right name for it. Near the end of the act 
 quite a small child, dressed as a clown, came on the 
 stage, and the two finished the dance together to great 
 applause. 
 
 Mr. De Lang was growding out something about not 
 liking to see children made do such things. I told hirh 
 they were very easy ; when I was a bov I had prac- 
 
 381 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 tised such tricks and had enjoyed doing them. Then, in 
 the emotion of the moment, I told him that I had had a 
 little brother, no bigger than this little clown, with whom 
 I had been used to go through some gymnastics like these, 
 and we never had been hurt. 
 
 **Well," he asked, ''were you on the stage?" 
 
 "Well, no, not with my brother, and not in such acts! 
 But yes, I have once been on the stage, long ago, acting, 
 singing, when I was a boy. I was a member of an opera 
 company, a children's opera company." 
 
 "Now," he drawled, "I always had an idea you had 
 been on the stage, I don't know what, but something gave 
 me the notion. And you are not affected neither. I did 
 not know till just now though. I mean, I did not know I 
 had the idea. Was it here in town?" 
 
 I said it had been here, and he proceeded with putting 
 some more questions. I named our company and went on 
 to describe the whole business to him, when, after awhile, 
 having caught up with me, he interrupted me, saying he 
 knew all about it. 
 
 "I heard those children sing," he continued, and began 
 to tell me the particulars ; but it took him so long that the 
 intermission had come to an end before he had finished 
 and a new act had commenced, stopping our conversation 
 until the act was over. The next one being some athletics, 
 gave us a chance to talk again. 
 
 "There was a girl in that company," he resumed, "a 
 pretty little girl, smaller than this one ; she was very 
 good. She sang and acted the best I ever heard. That 
 is all I remember. I don't remember you. Rut that is a 
 long time ago, nineteen years." 
 
 "Oh, no, not more than fifteen." 
 
 "Well, perhaps," he conceded. "What was her name?" 
 was?" 
 
 "Carmen ! Carmencita !" 
 
 "Carmencita! Well, if that is not Spanish all over! 
 
 382 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 What does it mean anyhow? Carmencita! And you? 
 
 Did you sing with her? Could you sing? What made 
 you quit?" 
 
 "I lost my voice." 
 
 He seemed to be ready with some objection to this, 
 when our attention was drawn to the girl, Stella, appear- 
 ing in the audience. She must have come into the audi- 
 torium by the stage door and was going down the differ- 
 ent aisles, peddling her photographs at twenty-five cents 
 apiece. We watched her. She looked off the stage still 
 prettier than on it. There was a gentle seriousness about 
 her, one felt more than one saw. The little clown was 
 not with her. When she came to our row, Mr. De Lang, 
 who had the aisle seat, held out a five dollar gold piece 
 to her. 
 
 She looked at him very earnestly. ''That is gold," she 
 
 said. 
 
 "I know it," he answered, ''take it." 
 
 She told him her father did not allow her to take more 
 than the price of the photographs bought, from anybody, 
 and she moved to go, which was exactly the thing to 
 make Mr. De Lang more insistent, and he stretched out 
 his hand to detain her. She grew first pale, then red, and. 
 speaking very low, said, 'Tlease take your hand away." 
 
 She stood perfectly still, showing no fear, but at the 
 same time turned her eyes to mine with a look of both 
 appeal and reproof, as though she would say: 'This man. 
 I see, is not himself, but you, why don't you help me?" 
 
 I was afraid that to oppose and thwart Mr. De Lang 
 would only make things worse, and, after all, he had only 
 meant it kindly. However, her look made me quickly 
 exert myself to do something. I observed to him that 
 he might buy five dollars' worth of the photographs from 
 her; she could sell him so much and more without dis- 
 obeying her father. He caught at the idea, laughed, 
 coughed, asked how many pictures she had in her little 
 
 383 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 leather bag, saying he would take them all, running his 
 hands down his pockets for more money. 
 
 A deeper blush and a smiling glance were my reward. 
 
 I suggested that we should go and see the father of 
 Stella, and that she should come there as soon as she was 
 disengaged, when we would settle everything. 
 
 I asked her father's name. It was Moreno. 
 
 "But he is home giving my brother lessons," she ex- 
 plained. 
 
 "And your mother ?" I asked. 
 
 "She is sitting in the last row, this side aisle." 
 
 "And what has become of the little clown ?" I inquired. 
 
 "She is with mama." 
 
 "She ? I thought it was a boy." 
 
 "No, sir, it is my sister Nina." 
 
 "And you have a brother at home who does not act?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, the Children's Aid Society won't let him act. 
 They let me act because I am older. And they let Nina 
 act because she only has to come in at the last figure and 
 stand on my shoulders." 
 
 Without thinking I asked how old she was. She 
 blushed, hesitated, and said "sixteen," so low, one could 
 hardly hear her ; blushing still more when Mr. De Lang 
 exclaimed : "What a story !" 
 
 He was quite ready now to go and see Mrs. Moreno. 
 Stella smiled. She smiled again as she went farther down 
 the aisle, while we walked back toward the rear, where 
 through looking up the little girl who, we could imagine, 
 must be the little clown, we very soon located the mother, 
 and laid our case before her. 
 
 The lady was very quick, I must say, to understand the 
 case, to weigh Mr. De Lang and judge his manner. She 
 repeated that her husband would not permit the children 
 to take money from anybody and everybody. But if a 
 gentleman like Mr. De Lang wanted to make Stella a 
 present, there could be no objection. And Stella would 
 
 384 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 be only too glad to accept it. If Mr. De Lang would give 
 Mrs. Moreno the money, she would give it to Stella. The 
 joke about buying out the stock of photographs she 
 treated with the regard it merited. It was a good joke 
 but, I think, the five dollars exceeded the price of the 
 pictures at twenty-five cents apiece. 
 
 Mr. De Lang, I think, had wanted to give Stella the 
 money herself, but he gave it to the mother. 
 
 "And this is the little clown," said Mrs. Moreno, pre- 
 senting the little girl. 
 
 I believe she did it perfectly innocently, but Mr. De 
 Lang laughed rather queerly, put his hand in his pocket, 
 and handed the child a bright silver dollar. She thanked 
 him very pretttily and a little shamefaced, which made 
 it a hundred times more pretty, and captured Mr. De 
 Lang entirely. 
 
 He had taken the seat next to Mrs. Moreno, which hap- 
 pened to be unoccupied. The little one was sitting on his 
 knee. It made me think of his home, and how different 
 it would be if he but had a child in it. 
 
 I was standing behind them, listening to Mrs. Moreno's 
 talk, sometimes watching Stella on her way back now% up 
 the aisle, making signs to her that everything was settled 
 and all right, which signs she did not seem to understand. 
 Nor could, I suppose, anybody. But she would answer 
 mv smile. 
 
 There was no lack of voluntary communication on the 
 part of Mrs. Moreno. She is an Irishwoman, her husband 
 a native of Chile. They had met and married in Aus- 
 tralia, where she had gone as a member of a theatrical 
 company and he as the principal clown of a large circus 
 making the circuit of Australia and parts of Asia. She 
 had gone with him, and the children had been born, and 
 it had been a life of happiness and content till Mr. Moreno 
 had fallen ill and been rendered unable to lead the life 
 of a circus man any longer. 
 
 385 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 The children were their mainstay now. And here Mrs. 
 Moreno grew very bitter, complaining of the local Chil- 
 dren's Aid Society forbidding the acting of the children. 
 
 "My husband is the kindest of men," she exclaimed, 
 "and for his own children he would give his life. He 
 taught them himself. They did their tricks since they 
 could walk. They like to do them. It is to them play. 
 And it is in the family. All our folks have been in the 
 show business for half a dozen generations. Why should 
 we send them to school? My husband is well taught 
 speaks three languages, is well informed and experienced. 
 He can teach the children more and better than any 
 schoolma'am. Like to-night now, he is home giving our 
 boy his lesson. You must come and see our boy." 
 
 Stella came very quietly to join us. She looked at me 
 a little as if she would excuse herself for the reproachful 
 looks she had given me. The mother gave her the 
 money. I was glad now Mr. De Lang had given it to the 
 mother. Somehow it was more satisfactory to me for the 
 mother to receive it first, and I thought I understood the 
 correctness of the rule of the old clown, for the children 
 to take no money presents. She was glad to get it 
 through. As glad as a child. And she seems to me 
 grown up. 
 
 She was standing by my side. The little Nina com- 
 menced to gently struggle to get away from Mr. De Lang 
 and Mrs. Moreno, till she succeeded and came and 
 squeezed herself in between Stella and me. 1 lifted her 
 up in my arms. With wonderful, delightful secrecy she 
 showed Stella her silver dollar. 
 
 She had more secrets. She was thirsty. And Stella 
 happened to be thirsty also, and asked me to get them a 
 large glass of water. I was detained by the crowd at 
 the bar. When T got back I found Mr. Moreno had 
 joined the party. He had cut his boy's evening lesson 
 short, as he had' been tired, had sent him to bed, and had 
 
 386 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 come to the theatre to see his wife and daughters home. 
 
 Stella introduced me to her father. He knew all about 
 the presents of money already. Stella had some little 
 joking remarks to make. He answered her the same 
 way. I could only listen, smile, and not say anything. 
 
 Mr. De Lang wanted to order some wine now, but, in 
 spite of all his urging, was refused, and we broke up and 
 left the place with the little family on their way home. 
 Stella wanted to walk. I am sure, with her father and 
 me. But Mr. De Lang wanted to walk with the children, 
 so it finally fell to me to walk with Mrs. Moreno, who 
 talked to me about the children, how good they were and 
 bright and sweet and affectionate and truthful and strong 
 and able, all of which I liked to hear and knew to be true. 
 
 When we came to their street we parted after they had 
 invited us to call on them at their lodgings on Geary 
 street. Mr. De Lang then kept on walking with me and 
 talking, till we walked all the way out to his house. He 
 was more stirred up than I thought he ever could be. 
 It was the conversation of the old clown that had worked 
 him up so. He grew quite talkative over him, although 
 he, by this time, was quite free from the influence of his 
 dinner. One remark of Mr. Moreno's he repeated manv 
 times. In speaking of theatrical affairs, Mr. Moreno had 
 called New York the town of the feeble joke. "That is 
 it exactly," cried Mr. De Lang, "I have lived there. These 
 clowns are sometimes very superior people." 
 
 When I came home, I wrote this. Now I have been 
 standing outside on the porch. The night is clear. There 
 is no wind. The town below is quite asleep. 
 
 Vain regrets ! To have no vain regrets ! I thought I 
 had none. I looked on all that came as due deserts. I 
 do so still. That is not what m.akes me feel desolate. 
 But this little family? A little family like this, is it not 
 that which I long for? What would be my happiness? 
 
 And mv brother? 
 
 387 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Something will come to tell me that I am giving up my 
 life for a dream. And I seem to hear one sa}^ : ''Live 
 your own life." 
 
 How handsome that girl with those serious eyes. And 
 joyous, too ! With what frank, childlike gladness she 
 turned to me to tell how much money she had taken 
 in, showing it ; but Mr. De Lang's five dollar piece first, 
 and again last, with an arch, twinkling glance, as though 
 she would say, "I have to thank you for that." The re- 
 spect she showed her parents! Her aflfection for the 
 little sister ! Her love for the half broken-down, kindly 
 old clown ! I could love her for that alone. 
 
 And must I put all such away from me ? 
 
 She sleeps. 
 
 September. 
 
 This morning I walked by the place where the Morenos 
 are living. It is an apartment house of the cheap kind, 
 with accommodations for cooking, I suppose. I was 
 thinking of calling on them this evening before the per- 
 formance. I was thinking, too, of getting a little present 
 to give Stella. I ought not to do this, I know, but I should 
 like to. What can I give? Now, I should like to be rich, 
 so as to do everything for them ! And would that make 
 them happier? 
 
 As long as I was idle, I walked out to Mr. Brown's, to 
 see what he wanted. He had a little job for me to do, on 
 Liberty street. I told him of my prospective job for Mr. 
 Mauresse and I was fortunate enough to obtain his con- 
 sent to my employing his two Manila workmen on that 
 job, if I get it. I had been thinking of this scheme before 
 this. I shall need no more help than that. 
 
 The thought came to me just now that Mr. De Lang 
 might take his wife to see the Moreno family, and it 
 gave me a very disagreeable sensation to think that she 
 and Stella should meet. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 388 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 1 was at Mr. De Lang's place. I think I wanted to see 
 him, to ascertain if he was home and was going to see 
 the Moreno family to-night. I never expected to find her 
 at home. I went straight into the back yard. The kitchen 
 screen door was unhooked and the inner door ajar, i 
 knocked. I received no answer. 1 looked round the door. 
 The door of the adjoining bedroom was wide open, and 
 she stood in the bedroom smiling at me. She was brush- 
 ing her hair, giving her head a sort of toss. It was a 
 saucy smile. It was a more than saucy gesture. I did 
 not hear it, but I saw her say: ''Come." 
 
 What must I do now ? 
 
 September. 
 
 I went to Mr. Mauresse's new residence this morning 
 to look for Mr. De Lang, my mind fully made up what 
 to do. I found him in the attic, in what is to be the 
 children's play room, where he was alone, laying out a 
 stage and other fittings. 
 
 "Well," he saluted me, *T thought I should see you last 
 night at that Spanish clown's. I met them going to the 
 theatre. They all asked for you and we waited at the 
 theatre after the girl's performance for you to come. I 
 had not been home all day. and I did not know my wife 
 had come home till I came home late at night after twelve 
 o'clock. She would have liked to go to the show, and to 
 meet those people ; if I had only known that she had 
 come home ! And you ! We waited for you all the even- 
 ing, and we left word with the waiter at the theatre 
 to tell you to come to where we were, if you should put 
 in your appearance. I took them all to supper next door. 
 The boy was along, too. He is the funniest fellow out. 
 He can walk and run and stalk like all kinds of animals. 
 He had the whole restaurant roaring. I laughed so much 
 I could not breathe. He is what you call a mimic. He 
 can mimic anything. I wish you had been there. And 
 the girl telephoned twice for you to the playhouse, to the 
 
 389 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 waiter. It is too bad you could not come. Perhaps you 
 did not want to. Are they not the smartest children ? Is 
 anything the matter?" 
 
 When I told him I'd like to speak privately to him, he 
 closed and locked the doors of the large room and came 
 to sit on the edge of the platform that is to form the floor 
 of the stage, close to where I was standing on the attic 
 floor proper. 
 
 I said to him, he and his wife had treated me with 
 such unexampled kindness ; he had, I well might say, fed 
 me and clothed me and taken me into his house, and he 
 had now offered himself as bondsman for me, I simply 
 could not help myself, I had to tell him that I was a par- 
 doned convict who had left the prison but one month ago, 
 but one week before the day he first had seen me ; that 
 I had been in prison on a life sentence for killing a man. 
 
 When he did not speak, but sat, keeping his eyes away 
 from me, J went on to tell, but not as collectively, cer- 
 tainly, as it then appeared to me, "how the jury that 
 tried me had found me guilty of murder in the first 
 degree, but on account of my extreme youth had fixed the 
 penalty at imprisonment for life; that I had found 
 friends in the prison from the first, friends in the officers 
 and in the prisoners, too, especially in one of the last- 
 appointed prison directors, who had succeeded in getting 
 me pardoned ; that I ought to have told him this before I 
 allowed him to take me into his house the very first 
 time, but had not had the strength to do it. Nor, must I 
 say for a true excuse, had it seemed so utterly necessary, 
 as he had shown a liberal mindedness w^hich at first must 
 lessen my consciousness of wrong-doing, although event- 
 ually, as it had done, increase it and raised my feeling of 
 duty and accountability to a pitch which nothing but unre- 
 served confession could satisfy. And I had made my 
 confession now." 
 
 As he sat silent, glancing now and then at me, I could 
 
 390 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 fancy him telling himself that he always had had an 
 idea that something was wrong with me. 
 
 "You must have been quite young," he drawled at last 
 so quietly I could not tell if it was indifference or was he 
 giving me a leading point. I took it, however, as such a 
 point, and responded: "I was very young. I don't know 
 my age to several months, but I was under fifteen years 
 of age; probably little over fourteen." 
 
 It sounded like a breath of relief as he inquired, "How 
 did you come to kill him ?" 
 
 "He was my father's half brother. It is a long story. 
 I don't know that I can tell it as it ought to be told, if I 
 am to tell it in a few words, not to detain you. He and 
 my father were half brothers. My father was an illegiti- 
 mate child, as I am of him. The other was the legitimate 
 son, both of the same father ! There is not the least 
 doubt in my mind that they were true half brothers, sons 
 of the same man, though he never acknowledged my 
 father's father. But, however that was, he adopted my 
 father when he was about eight or nine years old, letting 
 the two boys that were nearly of an age. grow up together 
 as brothers." 
 
 And I proceeded to relate my story as concisely as I 
 could, seeming peculiarly to understand it better myself 
 as I went on telling it, at least I fancied I did. Perhaps 
 the interest, the sympathy that Mr. De Lang manifested 
 with all his quietness, influenced me. 
 
 "I was very young," I repeated when I had finished, 
 "but I make that no excuse. And I don't know that my 
 youth made any difference, except that if I had been 
 older I should perhaps first have tried to get my little 
 brother out of this fellow's hands through some Children's 
 Aid Society. But yet, could I have taken the risk of his 
 getting hold of my brother again? They were rich now. 
 They could do anything. 
 
 I don't know that before this moment, my thinking and 
 
 391 
 
CHRONICLES Of ^MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 acting at that time has ever made itself so fully clear to 
 me. . I felt then, as I feel now, as I have never at any 
 time since felt differently. I knew this man, what he was 
 and what he would do. 1 must save my brother from 
 him. To do that I must kill the man. There was no 
 other way. And for that I was willing to give my life. 
 
 At the same time I had some notions of fair play. I 
 wanted to fight fair, though I must kill him. We had met 
 at my father's burial. I did not then know that he 
 already had begun his brutish, cruel treatment of my little 
 crippled brother. As soon as I had heard of his horrible 
 deeds I followed him to the place in the country, belong- 
 ing to an acquaintance of his, where he had gone to 
 hide in fear of me, not knowing that I was better ac- 
 quainted in all those parts than ever he was. I knew he 
 would go armed, but to make doubly sure of his arming 
 himself and being prepared for me, I let him know where 
 I was waiting for him. He tried to escape by an old un- 
 used road over the mountains, but I was there. I let him 
 fire at me, emptying his magazine, and gave him plenty 
 time to load again. And he had begun his firing from 
 behind a rock at first sight of me. But all the time I knew 
 I should kill him." 
 
 "What are you telling me all this for?" growled Mr. 
 De Lang. "You should not go into details that way. I 
 don't go in for killing. I can imagine cases where I 
 could kill a man myself, but I don't go in for it. I don't 
 want to know all this. If you say you killed a man, all 
 right ! Well, no ! Not all right ! I don't want to say 
 that, but still, it is done. Everybody has done something 
 some time that he deserves being shot for. Well, if he 
 is, it is done. Say no more about it. If you go into 
 details, you spoil the case and make people feel bad." 
 
 '*I had to tell you this," I said. "I have done. For my 
 life in prison, my character, I can refer you to the prison 
 officials." And then I told him about Ullard and his 
 
 392 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 teachings to save me from the degradation of prison Hfe. 
 
 ''Well/' he questioned, "what do you want me to do?" 
 
 I did not speak, and he looked at me almost angrily. 
 
 "Do you want me to go to Mr. Mauresse and inform 
 him that you want to throw up his job? What is your 
 object?" 
 
 I found it not so easy to say what my object was, but 
 I had to speak. 
 
 I said I would tell him how 1 felt. I did not want to 
 give up Mr. Mauresse's job, nor any job. I did not want 
 him to let Mr. Mauresse know anything I had told him, 
 nor anybody else. I wanted to retain his friendship. He 
 had been to me I could not say what all, nor what I 
 should be without him. And so I beseeched him to let it 
 be. Not to throw me off, to let me have him for a bene- 
 factor still, not to withdraw his helping hand now ! If I 
 had never met him, maybe I should have gotten along 
 in a manner by myself, but now, having been made so 
 much more of a man by his treatment, I should be lost 
 without him. Therefore I wanted him to let everything 
 stand as it was, only not to take me into his house. Let 
 me stay outside of that and of other homes ! Not to let 
 me bring the atmosphere of the prison into them. For the 
 point was not the criminal act I had committed, if it had 
 been a criminal act, the point was the prison life I had 
 led. 
 
 He was silent an awful long minute, when he said, with 
 his usual drawl : 
 
 "Don't tell my wife. Of course I shall not tell anybody 
 anything, but don't tell her. There would be no danger of 
 her telling, because she would not remember, but it would 
 make you too interesting." 
 
 I could not give the smile he was perhaps wanting to 
 call up. 
 
 He shook hands with me. "I reckon you told me this," 
 he remarked, "to give me the chance to back out of going 
 
 393 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 on your bond. Now, I am glad you told me. It makes no 
 difference. Don't think for a moment that it makes any 
 difference with me. Suppose you feel the way you tell 
 me, let it go at that. If you want to draw the line at 
 entering my house and other homes, you are the man to 
 do it. But I think you are wrong, you ought to just 
 enter any home you can. However, at first it may be as 
 well. After a while you will naturally come to it any- 
 how. And will you not go to that Spanish family now ? 
 That girl thinks the world of you. They are going to 
 Australia. Well, perhaps by the time they come back! 
 All right ! I am glad you told me." 
 
 We began talking about our job. He said he was sat- 
 isfied Mr. Mauresse wanted me to do the work, if only I 
 was not too high. And he advised me to go and see the 
 architect of Mr. Mauresse's, whom I should be able to 
 find in his office to-morrow forenoon. 
 
 Once more shaking hands, we parted. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 At last someone to have some knowledge of my father ! 
 Mrs. Stillborn! 
 
 It is not much she knows or wants to tell, but it excites 
 me, and it comes in time to quell other excitements. I 
 never thought of Mrs. Stillborn before this day, as one 
 who might know something about our family. I went to 
 her place to-day merely to busy myself and not think too 
 much of other things. The agreement I have entered 
 into there is that I shall put in my Sundays, or rather half 
 of them, keeping the place in trim, till Mr. Mauresse's job 
 is finished. I get very good wages, if only I get the money 
 without so much palavering! 
 
 When I was making shift to go away to-night I had the 
 sudden thought to ask Mrs. Stillborn if she heard of my 
 father. She had been hindering me all the afternoon at 
 my work, speaking of old times and old times people. Per- 
 .haps that put the notion in my head. I made up a little 
 
 394 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 story how 1 had heard it said that this place of hers had 
 formerly belonged to a family by the name of Alauus. 
 She answered no, and that she had bought the place from 
 a widow Delany. 
 
 "Well," I said, "that comes pretty near it." 
 
 *'Not at all," she objected. "Alanus? 1 know the name 
 quite well. There was a family here by the name of 
 Alanus, and a most disreputable family they were. Did 
 you never hear of old One-Per-Cent a Minute, they called 
 him? Did you know him? But you could not. You 
 were too young. He was one of the richest men in town." 
 
 "The first time I worked here," I faltered, "I met a 
 man, as I was going aw^ay, who seemed to be a neighbor, 
 and who began to talk to me and told me that you had 
 bought this house and lot at an incredibly low figure 
 from a Mr. Alanus, or, I should say, a Mrs. Alanus, 
 who sold the place below value as she was going away 
 from here to live in Chicago or Europe, some twelve 
 years ago." 
 
 "What confusion!" called out Mrs. Stillborn. "The 
 Alanus never owned this place. They had a place in 
 South Park, but they always lived in the country. How- 
 ever, that about Mrs. Alanus' going away is not wrong. 
 She must have been going away about that time. And I 
 am sure she must have been willing and ready to do 
 almost anything to get away from this town. Good 
 reason why. Because nobody here would have anything 
 to do with such an odious, absolutely indecent person. Of 
 course it is so long ago that one forgets, but I remember 
 that there were the most disgraceful carryings-on in that 
 family. Incredible scandals ! Any number of illegitimate 
 children! A whole family of misers, bastards, usurers 
 and spendthrifts, fighting amongst themselves, committing 
 every kind of felony, to actual murder! Some of them 
 are in states prison now." 
 
 395 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 And such appears my family to others ! And what can 
 I deny? 
 
 My best friend now, I think, is Mr. Carpenter, who 
 evening after evening comes into my room as soon as he 
 is through supper and I am come home, and asks for 
 music, makes me play and praises my playing, makes me 
 play more, talks in between and makes me talk, often 
 coaxes me into his neat kitchen, where his wife makes us 
 a lemonade, and where we sit comfortably, pleasantly 
 discussing the past day, falling back each time the sub- 
 ject of conversation gives out on music, with more prais- 
 ing of my talent and execution, which I think not half 
 insincere and makes me feel good. 
 
 Homely happiness! 
 
 No, it hardly deserves the name of happiness. And 
 there is also the shadow of homely sorrow on the com- 
 monplace life. The son and daughter left the father, that 
 took another wife, after their mother had died. He 
 misses the young people very much, though he may not 
 rightly know what he misses, li he says in his way, "that 
 since they showed themselves as they did their absence 
 is a small loss and that anyhow it was no different than if 
 they were moved to another place," I don't think that 
 makes the hardness of their action felt less. She cer- 
 tainly feels it more than he. Sometimes she looks at 
 him with a sort of pity in her face, when something is 
 mentioned that brings us near the subject. She feels it 
 for him and for herself. He feels it less for her. He 
 cannot feel the sting of the additional -slight to her, and 
 the self -blame. And the young people, I suppose, feel the 
 marriage as a slight to the dead mother who must have 
 been a good woman, I think, and a good wife. 
 
 I feel the want of work. I must work. 
 
 September. 
 
 My little jobs of taking care of places, like Mrs. Jack- 
 son's, I have given to an old man whom Mr. Carpenter 
 
 396 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 recommended to me, and who is now already seeing to 
 Mr. De Lang's garden patch. I was lucky enough to find 
 everybody at home when I took my substitute to the 
 (liflferent places and introduced him to the owners. And 
 everybody professed themselves satisfied, if sorry at my 
 desertion, and glad to hear of my getting a good job. I 
 have not got it yet. 
 
 I walked past the lodgings of the Moreno family. I 
 was afraid some of them would see me and come out 
 after me. And I don't know if I was not wishing they 
 would and walking slowly on purpose. 
 
 I called at the office of Mr. Mauresse's architect, who 
 was very important, explaining to me all points of the 
 contract, giving me a great deal of superfluous advice 
 and some tracings of drawings for the marble work of 
 the front, which is all changed now, the whole of that 
 work being now, following my sketch, included in my 
 bid, making the contract for the gardening so much 
 bigger. So much so, indeed, that I sometimes think Mr. 
 Mauresse will consider the whole thing too costly alto- 
 gether and give it up or have it worked out plainer. I 
 should be very well satisfied then to do the real gardening 
 part of the job by the day at ordinary wages, rather than 
 the way it is nov/. In truth, I am sorry I have this con- 
 tract before me. I am neither sure about the financial 
 outcome of it, nor my ability to carry out the design. It 
 seems to me now not only presumptions, but utterly fool- 
 ish to undertake this business at all. If it was not for 
 Mr. De Lang's good opinion of me I should back out of 
 the proposition to-day. And that, what may it be but 
 entirely illusory? If I think that he has a good opinion 
 oi me, which I possess vanity enough not to v/ant to for- 
 feit, he may think reversedly that I have the highest opin- 
 ion of his qualities, which he may be vain enough not to 
 want me to lose. Still behind it is something, a certain 
 influence of what I should call business-likeness. 
 
 397 
 
CHROXUCLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 September. 
 
 Everything is settled. All contracts are signed. But 
 what could I do without Mr. De Lang? 
 
 Some day Mrs. Mauresse is going with me to the nur 
 sery near San Jose, of which I saw the owner last 
 Tuesday, to pick out some dwarf roses for the grounds. 
 That is now the day ahead, when I hope to get the oppor- 
 tunity of finding out who owns my father's ranch. 
 
 September. 
 
 A light rain of about four hours duration in the night 
 before last has come exactly at the right time and in the 
 suitable quantity. The concretemen are at work on the 
 lot ; the marblemen are at full go in the shops. Nothing 
 but work now ! 
 
 1 went to Mrs. Stillborn's this morning and worked 
 till two o'clock. Mr. Stillborn was in the country, and so 
 I did not receive any pay. I spoke seriously to Mrs. 
 Stillborn, but to no purpose. "What did I tell you?" she 
 cried. ** Never bother me for money." I bothered her 
 with all kind of talk till J could introduce Mrs. Alaiuis. 
 I did it awkwardly enough, I believe, but without exciting 
 any suspicion of my object. I have satisfied myself that 
 she knows nothing of Mrs. Alanus' present whereabouts. 
 
 September. 
 
 To-day I feel as if I was not so very far from sharing 
 Mr. Mauresse's opinion about the close of Mr. Tern Ol- 
 dock's career. Mr. Tem Oldock owns my father's ranch, 
 lie bought it about seven years ago, and Mrs. Sullivan's 
 little farm likewise. It seems* my father had bought that 
 just at that time when he moved to town with us. He 
 never told me he had done so, but I thought from the first 
 he would take it ofif her hands. I think he had a mort- 
 gage on it. I remember the first horseback ride I took 
 with him to her place, when he, in a way I could not 
 understand, asked me what I thought of the transaction. 
 as if lie wanted my approval. 
 
 398 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 I wonder why Mr. Tern Oldock bought all this proi>- 
 erty that once was my father's. Yet why should he not ? 
 He must look up investments for his nioney. And I 
 dare say he got it cheap. I dare say the widow squan- 
 dered all she could. If she owned it yet. 1 might have 
 found out now where she is. So. as I have not found 
 it out, I think Mr. Tern Oldock is on the road to the 
 poorhouse. 
 
 I was notified yesterday that Mrs. Mauresse would io- 
 day go to San Jose w^ith me to visit the nursery of the 
 man I had seen and spoken to about his dwarf roses, and 
 so we w'ent. One of her nieces was of the party and one 
 of her little boys. The day was most beautiful, and she 
 was as beautiful as the day. But I cannot say that this 
 day has increased my admiration of her. She is altogether 
 very democratic, almost to a lack of refinement. She 
 prides herself on being what she calls businesslike, but 
 it is nothing but ordinary, niggardly closeness, and 
 doubly ofiFensive where coupled with so much wealth and 
 charm, or at least beauty and daintiness of person. 
 
 She was quite distressed when she found that we could 
 not reach the nursery we were going to by the street cars 
 on any line or combination of lines, and that she would 
 have to hire a carriage to take us there. She walked us 
 round the streets a good many blocks to find a cheap 
 coflFee saloon, the cheapest kind of an eating house, and 
 far from clean, to take our luncheon at : from liere she 
 telephoned to every livery stable in town to get the 
 lowest priced rig. Again at the nursery it was bargaining, 
 haggling, beating down to get prices below anybody else. 
 
 By sheer good luck, missing a train, detaining us one 
 hour. I got the chance to go to the ofiice of the Assessor. 
 
 In town when we came back the fog was flying and 
 the smoke also. 
 
 If my father had only willed my brother the ranch or 
 part of it ! 
 
 399 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 Or only Mrs. Sullivan's small patch! 
 
 September. 
 
 To-day I received the first payment on the job, which 
 I paid all out to sub-contractors and material men. It 
 looks as if I should come out pretty well on the contract. 
 I told Mr. DeLang I thought so. He retorted quite 
 roughly : "Don't you ever say one word about that to 
 anybody. Never let anybody know how you stand, what 
 money you make or lose." 
 
 October. 
 
 The second payment on my contract fell due to-day. 
 The job is done. I never believed I could feel so pleased 
 at anything of that sort. Everybody praises it. That I 
 do not care for. Mr. Mauresse and his family are quite 
 tickled, that I like more. What most satisfies me is that 
 Mr. De Lang likes it and thinks well of me for it. 
 
 By Mr. De Lang's advice I have paid out one-half of 
 this payment to the sub-contractors and material men 
 and put the other half in the bank. The last payment, 
 when it comes due, will more than cover all claims. I 
 have just done what Mr. De Lang has told me to do. But 
 T find there is now something springing up in me that 
 appears to me remarkable. Since I now possess this money, 
 T seem to like it. When did I ever care for money ? But, 
 to be sure, I never had any to care for. And now I have, 
 and it seems to make a change in me. I like the having 
 it, the possessing it. I wish it was more. I feel as 
 though I wanted to save it, make more. I even feel a 
 disinclination to pay it out, an anxiousness I might lose 
 it. I think of putting all T now have out on interest. 
 Hoard ! 
 
 It is only a few hundred dollars. I could go to Boston 
 now. And now it seems unnecessary. Writing indeed is 
 much better. To go without having first written appears 
 foolish to me now. 
 
 What I must do is to try to make money enough to buy 
 
 400 
 
CHRONICLES Of MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 a farm for me and my brother. To travel would be wast- 
 ing money. 
 
 But first I must have this Mr. Mauresse's job settled. 
 The last payment will be due in thirty-five days. And 
 meanwhile I must live. I must go after my old custom- 
 ers and hunt up new ones. I wish I had another job like 
 this one just finished. 
 
 So little money to make so much confusion. 
 October. 
 
 Leaving the Stillborn place yesterday, I walked out 
 beyond the old cemeteries and picked up a job for to-day. 
 A terribly dirty-looking elderly man was in the most awk- 
 ward manner clipping a cypress hedge around a large, 
 neglected flower yard, at the side of an old weather- 
 beaten, frame cottage, and I stopped to watch him. 
 "Well," he snarled, "what are you grinning at ?" 
 "At your spoiling that hedge," T replied. 
 "None of your business!" 
 "That is just what it is. My business !" 
 "Your business, I guess, is to loaf and find fault with 
 people's work." 
 
 "Work !" I cried. "Do you call that work ? Here ! Let 
 me show you how to do that." 
 
 I took the shears from his hands and clipped away for a 
 short time, he looking on with the snarl on his face which 
 I fancied was the right expression of his inner self. 
 
 We bandied words some time more, till T asked him to 
 -let me do this job for him, and he engaged me finally to 
 come to-day and do his garden up a bit. I set my price 
 according to my opinion of him, and he immediately 
 commenced to beat me down. I suppose, eventually, he 
 will hardly pay me more than half the amount agreed on. 
 This morning I went out to the place quite early. It 
 looked as if it might rain and I was almost hoping it 
 would, so as to give me the chance of a good excuse for 
 dropping this job, as my opinion of the owner grew poor 
 
 401 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 and poorer. His name is Mellant, he is rich and a — well, 
 a miser. He has a wife and a son, a young man, or what 
 the newspapers here call a boy, of twenty-one years of 
 age; and mother and son seem to be united to a sort of 
 offensive and defensive alliance against the old man. 
 
 The son received me when I arrived and let me into 
 the yard. 
 
 "You are going to, now, work here, are you not?" he 
 inquired. 'T saw you talking to the old skinner, now, yes- 
 terday. He told you to come, now, did he, and what now 
 to do?" 
 
 ''Yes, he told me all about it," I said as I took the 
 shears out of the shed and began finishing the clipping of 
 the hedge. 
 
 ''Well," he grunted, "you better look out, he will now, 
 now, never pay you a cent. He would not pay a, now, rat 
 if he hired him." 
 
 "What good would that do?" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "A rat," I called out, "hiring a rat." 
 
 "You mind !" he whined. "Never mind! You will find 
 out. He is the meanest, now, now, skunk that ever lived. 
 Look at my clothes ! He never, now, gives me money 
 enough to get a decent suit of clothes." 
 
 "Well," I told him, "you ought to be able to earn 
 enough money yourself to buy your own clothes. You are 
 big enough. Don't you do any work?" 
 
 "Oh!" he exclaimed, "what should I work for? And 
 my mother says I need not do any work all my life. He 
 has money enough." 
 
 And he did not do a stroke to assist me. He would not 
 even do me such little favors as putting a stake in the 
 soft ground, or holding the end of a tape line. Idly 
 standing by with his hands in his pockets, he closely kept 
 near me, talking to me all the time in his dronish way. 
 growing more and more confidential, explaining how his 
 
 402 
 
CHROXICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 father wanted to sell this place and had a customer, and 
 for that reason had engaged me to put it in a little better 
 condition ; telling me too what schemes he and his mother 
 would put in execution to get money out of the old man. 
 Once they had gone, he related, to consult a fortune teller 
 to find out how best to succeed in their endeavors. "And 
 the fortune teller," he proceeded, "she told me, that I was 
 now^ wanting and waiting for my father to die so I should 
 get his money. Now, how could the. now, w^oman know 
 that? Was it not wonderful that she should know that?" 
 
 The forenoon was pretty well advanced before Mr. 
 Mellant appeared, dressed in a dirty linen dust coat reach- 
 ing to below his knees, buttoned up close to his throat, and 
 with an aged, black silk stock showing above, no sign 
 of a shirt or collar ; shiny black pants hung on his legs, 
 frayed and muddy at the bottom with some portions of 
 dirty brown socks hanging down over worn-out rubber 
 shoes. A battered old beaver hat with a mourning band 
 turned brown set back on his head, everything in perfect 
 keeping with his unwashed, unshaven face, the greenish, 
 half decayed fangs of his mouth, his snarling speech and 
 voice, his sneaking walk and manner. He had not looked 
 so bad the evening before or I should never have dared 
 to take any work of his. Now I had to do the best I 
 could. 
 
 First I asked him for some money to get something to 
 eat, it being lunch time. He would not give me any. 
 Then I told him outright that I had no belief in his want- 
 ing to pay me at all and should not go on with the job 
 unless he paid me down for what T had already done and 
 the rest evenly divided at the end of each hour. 
 
 It must have been comical enough to look at us. how we 
 disputed. He kept circling round me in the most absurd 
 manner, falling back as I would advance, and the reverse ; 
 as though he was keeping me at bay, talking all the time 
 the most ridiculous stuff, denying my claim, defying and 
 
 403 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 abusing me, swearing at me, threatening me, sometimes 
 raising his voice to such a pitch as to attract the attention 
 of passing people. 
 
 As I stepped toward the water faucet to wash my hands, 
 preparatory to leaving the job, he yelled: "Don't you 
 dare to touch that faucet! Don't you dare to take my 
 water! Stealing! A thief! You are a thief, sir? I shall 
 have you arrested. Police! Stop thief! Police!" 
 
 Except for the fun in it for me, I don't think I should 
 have held out a minute. That and the lesson in bargain- 
 ings which I received some weeks ago from the beautiful 
 Mrs. Mauresse at San Jose. And, to be sure, the knowl- 
 edge I had of his wanting to sell and having a customer, 
 gave me the advantage. He fought me all he could, let 
 me lay down the tools, put on my coat, go out of the gate, 
 and then he came with the money and paid me, first the 
 half of the price agreed on and then the hourly payments, 
 all but for the last hour. I had expected that he would 
 beat me out of that. 
 
 As I went away, I met the young fellow round the next 
 corner. I had seen him in the rear street, watching, nearly 
 all the time. He came slouching up to me, saying: "Well, 
 what did I tell you ? You, nows ought to give me some- 
 thing. If I had not posted you, you would not have got 
 a cent. You ought to, now, divide." 
 
 "It is a mighty small matter to pay a commission," I 
 told him, "on such a job as this. But you are right. You 
 warned me and told me about the sale, and should be 
 rewarded. How does it strike you, if I give you an order 
 on your father for the balance he still owes me, as you 
 must know ?" 
 
 "Now, now !'' he wailed, "that is not fair. You ought to 
 give me a nickel anyhow." 
 
 "Here is a dime, will that do?" I asked. 
 
 He made no answer, but took the money. And it was 
 most disagreeable to me to see how the touch of the coin 
 
 404 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 seemed to sweep and spread all through his ungainly 
 cadaver. 
 
 Keep me from all such ! Let it be a lesson, 
 
 November. 
 
 The last payment, the thirty-five days payment on my 
 contract fell due to-day and was paid. Mr. De Lang as 
 bondsman, and at my request, went with me first to Mr. 
 ^lauresse's place of business and afterwards to all the 
 sub-contractors and material men of the job, to disburse 
 the money. Then his bond was cancelled. I had signed 
 the receipt for the amount of balance of contract price 
 the first thing. 
 
 When we were through with all this, I conferred with 
 Mr. De Lang about the placing of my money. He thought 
 it would suit my purposes best to put it in one of our 
 large savings banks, where it would pay a small interest 
 as long as it remained there, and could be drawn out, if 
 I wanted it. And so I have now placed it. 
 
 To swell the amount all I could I scraped together all 
 I had to scrape. It was foolish, I fear, for it has actually 
 left me absolutely without any money but three dimes. 
 But I have a new meal ticket for twenty-four meals, and 
 my room rent is paid for the whole of this month. I shall 
 have to try hard now to get some new work. But that 
 is just what I wanted. Xot to turn idle ! Beside, I liked 
 to round off the sum of money. I cannot deny it. 1 
 liked it. My first money ! 
 
 November. 
 
 Yesterday I forced myself to work at Mr. Stillborn's. I 
 had to. He had returned from the country. I received 
 all the money due me. I told him I did not know if T 
 could do his work any more. I would send him a good 
 man, if he wanted me to do that. 
 
 What do I know ? 
 
 Sunday I loitered about all day, like my father, I sup- 
 pose, used to do. 
 
 405 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Saturday it was. Three days gone. 
 
 I had gone to Mrs. Stillborn's Saturday and worked 
 there all day till late in the afternoon. I had told her 
 that I should want another day to do all she wanted me 
 to do, and was ready for another struggle with her 
 about payment of my wages, or some part of them, which 
 I should very much have liked to have, since it annoyed 
 rne to have but those few dimes in my pocket. But, being 
 sure of the usual refusal, I concluded not to say anything 
 to her about it, and wait till Mr. Stillborn was come 
 home, which might be as soon as next day. 
 
 I was closing the empty barn, pushing to the big roll- 
 ing* door to the side street before putting on my coat to 
 go away, when I noticed in the next block up the hill a 
 number of boys. There were always boys playing in that 
 or the adjoining block, which are without improvements 
 and ungraded, only fenced in with rough board-rail fences 
 and with some narrow sidewalks laid along the streets, 
 that are cut down to the official city grade, leaving irregu- 
 lar bluffs standing. 
 
 But these boys seemed to be up to something particu- 
 lar ; and immediately I saw two boys put forward to fight. 
 They were both small boys, and one was again quite a 
 bit smaller than the other, not more than six, seven years 
 old possibly. Yet, standing up spunkily, taking and giving- 
 his blows, not for the first time, surely, or rather perhap* 
 like one that has been taught how to put up and use his 
 hands. He was visibly overmatched by the other, larger 
 and fully one or two years older boy, who repeatedly 
 struck him down. 
 
 It was pretty far for me to run up to and interfere, but 
 I felt like doing it very much. It was too unfair a fight. 
 I could never stand letting that go on. I thought of my 
 boyhood's battles. The little fellow was evidently a 
 stranger among the rest. He was much better dressed. 
 He showed such pluck. No sooner was he down than he 
 
 406 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 was up again, and getting in his blows, too, only that his 
 blows were too light to tell against the bigger boy. 1 
 could stand it no longer ; the smaller boy was down again 
 and the whole crowd of spalpeens cheered and seemed in- 
 clined to jump on him. I had started to run up the 
 street, when I saw the boys stop, scatter and run, climbing 
 the fences, jump and disappear as a man came looming 
 up over the brow of the farther bluff. 
 
 He came up to the little fellow, who alone had re- 
 mained behind. I thought he must know the boy. They 
 spoke to each other. The boy was wiping the blood off 
 his face with his handkerchief. They shook hands. The 
 boy was showing the man something. He was motion- 
 ing with his hands, as if telling him how he had come 
 there. After a little more conversation, they moved to the 
 edge of the lot, climbed through the fence, and came down 
 my way. And then, as soon as they had come a little 
 nearer, and as I was turning back into the barn and actu- 
 ally pulling the door to, I recognized the man. It was 
 Opium Loo. 
 
 How came he to interfere ? He might be here cer- 
 tainly, he might be anywhere, idling about. But how came 
 he to interfere? Could he know the boy, who was, any- 
 body could tell, gentlefolk's child? Only by chance could 
 he have come upon that crowd of boys. They saw- him 
 and ran. They need not have run for him. They could 
 have driven him off again. But they ran, and that way 
 he got onto the little fellow. And now I must get the 
 child away from him. 
 
 I watched them from the barn. I did not show my- 
 self. They were making for the car line on the second 
 street north of us. I was wondering why Opium Loo had 
 not gone in the southern direction, up hill, where there 
 was a car line three blocks nearer ; but I came to reflect 
 that the more northern car line must take him closer 
 to his proper haunts, which were sure to be somewhere 
 
 407 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 near the part of town known as Barbary Coast, where 
 undoubtedly he was going to take the boy, or to the as 
 nearby Chinatown, where he might be wanting to sell 
 him to some Chinaman. 
 
 He held him fast by the hand. 
 
 A nice looking, strong built, little fellow he was, dressed 
 in a short, grayish suit of waist and knee breeches. The 
 clothes showed the tousling he had gone through, and on 
 his face was blood. 
 
 He looked to me like my brother. 
 
 They were going down the narrow sidewalk on the 
 other side of the street. I hardly had any thought how I 
 should do it, only that I must get the child out of the 
 hands of that vile abomination. It had to be done. 
 
 When they were right abreast the barn door, I pushed 
 it back and stepped into the opening, and as if I knew the 
 boy and but that moment caught sight of him I called 
 out to him: ''Hallo, Bobbie! Why, what brings you over 
 this way ?" And going out into the street to cross over, I 
 shouted to the man, "Where are you going with that 
 boy? Where are you taking that boy?" continuing 
 smartly to walk up to them. 
 
 1 did not care now if that fellow knew me or recog- 
 nized me. I would fight him if he showed fight, run him 
 down if he ran away with the child, get the boy out of 
 his hands by any means whatever, when not to my sur- 
 prise, but certainly to my relief, he let go the boy's hand, 
 turned and fled up the street. 
 
 The boy stood gazing after him, then at me, puzzled 
 what this meant, I could see, but not at all scared nor 
 making any move to follow the man, or run off himself. 
 Yet so anxious was I about it that I laid my hand on 
 his arm and drew him across the street into the barn, 
 saying to him many times over : ''Don't go with that 
 man, boy! He is a bad man. You must not go with 
 him !" 
 
 408 
 
CHRONICLES OF ^MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 1 stepped back onto the sidewalk a moment to assure 
 myself of Opium Loo's complete flight and saw him at 
 the upper car line, where a car was approaching, which 
 he boarded as it went by oaits w^ay down town. 
 
 '^Did he take any money away from you?" 1 asked the 
 boy as I shut the door. 
 
 ''He did not take it away from me, sir," he answered. 
 "He asked me if I had some money, and I gave him a 
 dollar I had." 
 
 The agitation of the fight was yet on him, and perhaps 
 of some experiences that had gone before, and his voice 
 had something that thrilled me. 
 
 "But he took it and kept it," 1 said, as i led him into 
 the light of the inner yard to examine his hurts. "And 
 that," I continued, ''accounts for his running away. 1 
 knew it. He was afraid he would have to hand back 
 the money. And so he would. Well, he will keep away 
 from this neighborhood for a good while, that is one 
 satisfaction. And his coming made the boys run away. 
 That was worth a dollar, was it not? Vou had a hard 
 time of it. 1 was just coming to help you. 1 saw you." 
 
 As 1 was looking him over, 1 kept on talking to him 
 to calm him down more, telling him that he was not 
 hurt very much, that his one eye would most likely swell 
 a little more and turn black, but that in a week's time he 
 would hardly have any marks of his fight left: all but 
 his hand, that had been skinned on the knuckles. 
 "What were you fighting about?" I questioned him. 
 *T really don't know. sir. The boys said we must fight. 
 The other boy struck me. I had not thought he would, or 
 1 should have guarded myself. They did not call time." 
 
 Such a modest, old-fashioned, artless way he had of 
 talking, and so gentle as to resemble little Harry to me 
 more and more. He had been struck in the mouth, but 
 his teeth were unhurt, his first teeth yet. His underlip 
 was cut and his little nose was set in drying blood. 
 
 409 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 "That was from the first blow, that was foul," he ex- 
 plained. 
 
 "You know something of boxing," I told him. 
 "A little, sir. We had lessons in Oakland with Mr. 
 Carrol. But no more now. But papa taught us before." 
 Seeing he moved a little lame, I found on looking far- 
 ther for hurts, that his shins were very much barked, 
 especially on the left leg. 
 
 "That boy must have kicked you," I remarked, "or did 
 you fall?" 
 
 "I don't know, sir. I did not feel it till now." 
 
 I took him into the wash room of the barn and washed 
 the blood off his face and hands and other places, and 
 gave him some water to rinse his mouth, while I was 
 gone to where my coat was hanging to fetch some court 
 plaster I always carry, to put it on his knuckles and raw 
 shins. 
 
 "Now," I said, setting me down in a garden chair, 
 "stand between my knees, this way with your back to 
 me, till I hold this wet towel to your eyes. When that 
 towel feels no longer cold, tell me and I will change it. 
 Do you feel much hurt?" 
 
 "No, sir, I do not feel hurt much, only a little funny 
 in the head, and a little stiff. "I thought he was goinf 
 to cry, but if he was, he overcame it, and I, to help him, 
 went on talking to him as unconcernedly as possible. 
 
 "You don't know that man at all, do you ?" I asked 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "He said he just came by. He said he had seen us i« 
 Oakland when I told him we had been living there." 
 
 "Where were you going with him ?" 
 
 "He said he would take me home." 
 
 "Home ? How ?" 
 
 "I am afraid, sir," faltered the little fellow, "I have lost 
 myself. I have lost my way." 
 
 410 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 -Lost your way? Why, where do you Uve?" 
 I felt him tremble. He was struggling with himself. 
 All but on the point of breaking down, with an effort 
 that seemed almost too much for such a little man he 
 mastered himself, and, turning to me with the faintest^ 
 miserable littk ^shadow of a smile, said: I dont know 
 
 where we live. 
 
 -You mean, you don't know the name of the street you 
 TiTe in, nor the number of your house?" 
 . "No, sir, I don't know." 
 
 ''What a big boy like you don't know the name of his 
 street? Can't you read?" I cried a little roughly, on pur- 
 pose to help him sustain himself. . ^ , , t 
 
 "Yes sir, I know it is very stupid, but I dont know^ i 
 must have heard the name of the street, too. And 1 
 think I saw the number of the house on the glass over 
 the door, yesterday when we moved over from Oakland, 
 I think there was a four in it. But that would do no 
 rood " he added in his old-fashioned, gentlemanly man- 
 ner ' It might have amused, if it had not been so moving, 
 ;tnd made me smile, only one had to think of the distress 
 of the heavy little heart. 
 
 "And have you no idea at all which way you came 
 here, in which direction your house is located or your 
 street > Could you see the bay from your house? Or the 
 l>ark?' You know the park? You know what a park is, 
 
 '^''" Ye^'lir ! No, sir ! Yes, sir 1 I don't know that we 
 could see any park or the bay. There was a big hill witk 
 
 some houses." ^. , , ,. 
 
 Although he spoke very pure English, and sounding so 
 pretty I thought I detected a foreign intonation in his 
 speech that made me ask him if he was born here. 
 
 "No sir we are Americans, but we were born m Hol- 
 land," he replied, making the answer as one he had often 
 
 to give. 
 
 411 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 1 turned back to the main question, asking him to tell 
 me how he had come to lose his way, and how he had 
 come here, thinking he might, in recounting this, adven- 
 titiously mention something which could give me some 
 idea in what part of the town his house was. But I ob- 
 tained no such clue. It was such a plain story that it 
 would fit almost any locality in any town, almost any 
 child, almost any losing of the way. He had seen some 
 boys with a little dog near his house and had gone to see 
 what they were doing. They had wanted to sell the dog, 
 when the man had come who owned the little dog and 
 had set a big dog to chase them. They had all run with 
 the big dog after them, and when they had stopped run- 
 ning he had not been able to see his house. One boy had 
 said he knew where his house was and had taken him a 
 long way to the house, but it had not been his house. 
 Then a drunken man had come upon them and had run 
 after them. And then he had been all alone. He had 
 tried to get up to the top of a hill, that looked like the 
 hill above his house, but every street had always looked 
 like every other, till at last there had been no more streets 
 and no more houses. And then he had come upon those 
 boys I had seen him with. They had said he must fight 
 one of them. They had taken hold of him and run him 
 a long way over to the empty blocks. And the boy had 
 struck him. And he had had to fight. 
 
 He made a short pause, indicating that he had finished 
 his account to conscientiously answer my question. And 
 as if he felt how very little all he had told could serve to 
 give me a point as to the locality of his house, in correc- 
 tion of his first statement that he did not know the direc- 
 tion in which he had come, he added, motioning with his 
 hand to the hill above us, 'T think our house is over that 
 way," turning round to look me in the eye, beseechingly : 
 could not that give me the idea I wanted, to find the 
 house. 
 
 412 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 "Oh, we will find the house all right," T exclaimed 
 cheerfully. 'That is nothing, if you only know your 
 name. You know your name, don't you ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. My name is Mahon Mark Tem Oldock." 
 I had just turned him round again to stand as before 
 between my knees with his back to me for another appli- 
 cation of the cold, wet towel to his eyes. I moved back 
 a little the chair I was sitting on. I was not touching him. 
 I moved still further back. I got up and went into the 
 adjoining room. I came back. I was trying to say 
 something. I had no power over my voice. I had to go 
 once more out of the room to catch me by the throat 
 and choke back the feeling, the passion of joy, the bliss, 
 the unspeakable happiness that had come to me. 
 
 T came to sit behind him, giving him, not to touch him, 
 the wet, folded towel to hold to his eyes himself. I 
 started to speak several times before I succeeded to 
 steady my voice enough, forcing myself to it, speaking 
 very slow to keep my voice from trembling and sounding 
 too unnatural. 
 
 "I know a house," I said, "down town, a big house of 
 many rooms, that is called the Tem Oldock Block. Does 
 that belong to your father ?" 
 "I don't know, sir." 
 
 "I have gone by that building several times, though not 
 lately," I went on, gaining a little more self-control, finger- 
 ing some buttons of his waist, to have some excuse for 
 touching him, ''I have been inside the house and have 
 also seen the janitor, an old colored man. At the entrance 
 of that building is a sign with the names on it of John 
 Tem Oldock and Son. Is that your papa's name?" 
 'T think that is grandpa's name, sir." 
 "There! You see! That must be your grandpa's busi- 
 ness place. Now just as soon as I am fixed up here, in 
 five minutes, we will go down to that building and the 
 old janitor will tell us the name and number of your 
 
 . 413 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 street. Or there will be other persons to do it. And then 
 I will take you right home. Keep bathing your face over 
 this washstand. I shall be away no more than five 
 minutes." 
 
 I wanted to try to get some money from Mrs. Stillborn. 
 And how I repented now of my foolish putting away of 
 all my money! If I could not induce Mrs. Stillborn to 
 pay some of the money down, I had, of course, enough 
 for car fare; and that was really all I needed. Only in 
 case of some accident, what then? But if it came to the 
 worst, I could take little Mahon to my place to stay over 
 night. Mrs. Carpenter would be glad to care for him. 
 But it would be cruel to keep the little boy from home 
 one moment longer than absolutely unavoidable. 
 
 With more patience and management, I might have 
 got some money from Mrs. Stillborn, but I could not 
 take the time, I could not waste one minute. While. I 
 was talking to her, there was constantly in me the shadow 
 of the idea that little Mahon, left alone in the strange, 
 darkening place, bewildered, scared, might run off, which 
 grew into a wild fear and drove me to rush back to the 
 barn, where I found him patiently sitting on the empty 
 box I had placed for him before the washstand, bathing 
 his eyes. 
 
 A little expression of satisfaction or relief to see me 
 return was in his face. I must appear to him now, not 
 unlike an old acquaintance, I thought. 
 
 I dried his face to pass my hand over it. I looked at 
 his hurts once more, and, pretending that the court plaster 
 did not altogether stick, moistened it with my tongue that 
 my lips might touch him. 
 
 I walked away with him down the street to the car 
 line. He limped a little. I could but just keep from tak- 
 ing him up to carry him. But if I once had him in my 
 arms, how could I help hugging him to my heart ? Then 
 he would break down, and I would break down. I did 
 
 414 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 not even dare to take him by the hand. And yet some- 
 times I had to touch him. 
 
 In the street cars we were the only inside passengers, 
 the time of evening it was getting to be when the intown 
 travel is light. He sat just a little bit away from me. 
 A little shy he was, or no, not shy, reserved, or feelmg, 
 perhaps, strange and wondering at my familiarity of 
 manner. For my manner must have appeared peculiar, 
 with all the emotions that spun my heart. And I did not 
 think of this. I think of it now. I did not then. I 
 thought he was naturally shy, and that made him so 
 much more like little Harry to me. 
 
 I noticed that he was tired. Before he had appeared 
 more stunned, dizzy from the fight. Now he showed 
 mere exhaustion. Whenever I gave him an assurmg 
 smile he would try to smile back to acknowledge my en- 
 deavors and make at least a show of being encouraged, 
 but it was only a heavy-hearted, short-lived little smile, 
 and the tears were very near him all the time. Once I 
 began to speak of his home and only just in time recol- 
 lected myself. I kept on talking and making him talk, 
 that there might be some outward restraint helping him 
 to hold his own. I was convinced that he felt sure I was 
 a friend, but what other anxiety, uncertainty, doubt, con- 
 fusion and more yet there must have been in him ! 
 
 The grandfather being presumably the safest person of 
 the family to mention, I asked some questions about him, 
 and so much I came to understand that, coming from 
 Europe to Boston, they had stayed there some time with 
 Mr. Tem Oldock and then come on here to Oakland some 
 weeks ago, where they had lived at a private hotel, run 
 by a Mrs. Smith, whence they had moved yesterday to 
 the city. But that Mr. Tem Oldock had gone away to 
 Mexico a week ago and was soon coming back. As the 
 little fellow was constantly using the plural, saying we. 
 
 415 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 us, our, I concluded that he had some brothers and sis- 
 ters. Naturally I did not inquire about it. 
 
 They must have arrived here about the time I was 
 employing my energies to scrape together what money I 
 could. 
 
 It was beginning to get dark. The windows were light- 
 ing up here and there. When we gained the top of Rus- 
 sian Hill we saw the street lamps stretch away in long 
 lines through the city. My little restaurant round the 
 corner bravely shone with many lights. Little Mahon 
 looked at it, and that suggested to me that he might be 
 hungry. And then by dint of much careful questioning 
 I learned that it had been rather early, but shortly after 
 breakfast when he had come away from his house. 
 
 "I never thought of that," I cried. "You must be very 
 hungry, knocking about all day. We will get out down- 
 town and I know a place where you can get a glass of 
 real good milk. Do you drink milk?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, we have milk with a little hot water for sup- 
 per. And bread. But I am not hungry, I think; onlv a 
 little thirsty." 
 
 When we reached Montgomery street, I took him to a 
 place where they keep good milk and where he got a big 
 glassful with a little boiling water and some fresh French 
 bread. And what a pleasure it gave me to see him eat 
 and drink! Mahon's son! And he so much like little 
 Harry again in his eating, so deliberate with such nicety. 
 Only, his eating amounted to nothing. I saw he could 
 eat nothing and forbore to press him, but told him not 
 to eat anything if he did not feel like it. And but a few 
 mouthfuls of milk could he swallow. Then we went 
 away, and I had not but a single dime left. 
 
 it was no darker than it had been before, but the dark- 
 ness then, coming on gradually, had not seemed so dark, 
 and there had been more street life, and stepping out of 
 the glaringly lit-up eating-house into the almost deserted, 
 
 416 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 nightly street, with the tops of the tall business houses lost 
 in dusk against the shadowy sky, and few lights shining 
 from windows, the boy held back. It was only a mo- 
 mentary hesitating. If I had not been holding him by the 
 hand I should not have perceived it at all. 
 
 I could not help myself, I took him up in my arms. He 
 was limping more, too. I was carrying him sitting on my 
 left arm in front of me, my right arm across his back, 
 his face to mine, his arms round my neck. His heart 
 beating against mine. The warmth of his young body 
 iowing through mine. If I turned my head down a little 
 my cheek would touch his. 
 
 Long ago, another lif«! I had so carried my little 
 brother through these streets; my father's house looking 
 down at us. 
 
 We had come where we must see the Tern Oldock 
 Block, and I was ready to call out to the boy to look at 
 it, for there it was, when I saw that something was the 
 matter with it. It must be undergoing some repairs or 
 alterations. Great heaps of building material were piled 
 up in front of it, and pretty soon I could see in the light 
 falling on it from somewhere beyond the next corner 
 a large sign reading that the Tem Oldock Block was being 
 enlarged, rebuilt, renovated, improved, to be finished 
 some time next year. 
 
 I walked on without speaking to little Mahon. I was 
 expecting to see some signboard, or notice on the close- 
 board fence around the property, stating where the Tem 
 Oldock Company had moved their office to, but before 
 I had come near enough to hunt for such a notice a man 
 with a bright lantern came moving from out the shadow 
 of the fence between the building and a mountain of 
 rough mortar, who was unmistakably the watchman of 
 the property, and whom I hailed and asked what I wanted 
 to know. First I asked him if he knew where Mr. Tem 
 Oldock lived. But he knew nothing of that. The Tem 
 
 417 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Oldock Company had moved their offices to the Jones 
 Block, he informed me with a good deal of bawling, ancj 
 told me the location of that building and the shortest 
 route to get there, the little boy listening to the con- 
 versation. 
 
 ''We shall fetch it now," I told him. *'One more tack! 
 Do you know what a tack it? No? You don't? Oh, 
 you bad boy!" 
 
 1 felt like making fun, dancing with jollity. Nothing 
 but consideration, compassion for little Mahon's how 
 different feelings could seemingly keep me from swinging 
 him round in my arms, right and left. I sung his name 
 to him a dozen times and with variations. 
 
 Like what chaos must all this have presented itself 
 to him ! A rough, bawling voice of an invisible man 
 with a lantern ; all about unrecognizable masses of houses ; 
 interminable streets ; sometimes a solitary person, sud- 
 denly advancing out of the gloom, passing by and vanish- 
 ing again in it ; strange lights and noises in the distance, 
 all without ending, dying away in nightly blackness ; only 
 above, a little lighter the sky with its dim stars ! 
 
 He was so still, I thought for a moment he was falling 
 asleep. Then 1 thought he was crying, silently. But he 
 was only quiet. 
 
 "Hold on with your hand to my coat collar, then I 
 can carry you better," T urged him, and when he hesi- 
 tated I took it and put it on the collar, on my neck. I 
 bent over him. He turned his face more to mine, and 
 a little wonderingjy he asked half-loud: 
 
 "Do you know us?" 
 
 "Why," I said, " your name is Mahon Mark Tem Ol- 
 dock, you were born in Holland, you came to Boston 
 where your grandpa was living, and from there you all 
 came here where you lived in Oakland till yesterday 
 when you moved to town. And to-day you started for 
 Mexico to fetch back your grandpa, but lost your way 
 
 418 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 and I caught you and am taking you home. Now, don't 
 I know you ?" 
 
 He drew himself a very little closer to me, and it was 
 as though he would say that he understood my fun, only 
 he could not enter more into it just then. 
 
 Partly to give reason to my behavior, partly to divert 
 his thoughts. I began again, and speaking lightly: "I had 
 a little brother once like you, I used to carry him like 
 this now. and on evenings like this, home to the house 
 we used to live in ; over that way. 
 
 He turned his face more to me, and almost as if feeling 
 something my words might imply, he laid his head down 
 in the hollow^ of mv shoulder. 
 
 We passed a telephone office and it struck me that there 
 Mahon's address might be kiiown. I went in and asked. 
 A young girl behind the counter looked in a book and 
 told me the address was a certain number in Oakland. 
 I answered that Mr. Tem Oldock had yesterday moved 
 from Oakland and was living in the city. She talked 
 to another girl behind the counter and reported to mc 
 that no notice of any change had been received. She 
 added, there must have been some neglect. 
 
 If T had but had a little more money, I reckon I could 
 have got the address from Oakland, from that Mrs 
 Smith, but I did not dare to pay out my last dime, and 
 at the Jones Block it certainly must be known where 
 Mahon lived. 
 
 We were now where there were more lights and the 
 streets livelier. We had nearly reached the big Jones 
 Block. But the increasing life and the greater glare of 
 lights seemed to make little Mahon more uneasy than 
 the darkness had done before. Or I fancied it, for he 
 held on to my hand so tightly as we walked into the 
 
 419 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 wide, high entrance of the Jones Block, where people 
 were coming and going in almost as great a hurry as in 
 daytime, if not in as large numbers. Inside a large clock 
 showed the time to be seven o'clock. 
 
 I pronounced the name Tern Oldock to one of the 
 elevator men standing by his cage. 
 
 ''Seventh floor!" he ejaculated 
 
 *'I suppose there is no one in their office now," I said. 
 
 "No, they are gone long ago. Mr. Tem Oldock never 
 was here all day." 
 
 "Do you know where Mr. Tern Oldock lives?" I 
 a.sked. 
 
 ''Yes, he lives in Oakland." 
 
 "No, he moved to town yesterday. Don't you know 
 what his address is?" 
 
 He eyed me a trifle sharply and looked two or three 
 times at little Mahon. "Ben," he shouted to an older 
 man, wearing the star of a police officer or private de- 
 tective, standing in the inner court of the building, who 
 at his call came sauntering over to us with his hands in 
 his pockets, "liere is a Mexican boy that wants to know 
 where Tem Oldock lives ; he docs not live in Oakland any 
 more, he says." 
 
 At this moment three or four gentlemen came walking 
 up, that the elevator man had to take upstairs. We were 
 crowded to one side, and I with little Mahon followed 
 Mr. Ben into the inner court, into what I took to be the 
 business office of the building where by some glass parti- 
 tions were some tables and arm-chairs, into one of which 
 I lifted little Mahon, Mr. Ben looking on indifferently, 
 not to say offensively. I thought he might know the boy. 
 might have seen him with his father. But such evi- 
 dently was not the case. He regarded him with dis- 
 favor, which I did not understand, though in truth the 
 hoy looked battered and shaggy enough. At the same 
 time as Air. Ben seemed to be a man in authority, head- 
 
 420 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 janitor perhaps, I felt as if I owed him some explanation. 
 And anyhow, if I wanted to find out something, I had 
 to ask. So I spoke. 
 
 "I should like to know where Mr. Tem Oldock lives," 
 I commenced, "I mean where he resides. This is his 
 son. I want to take him home. They used to live in 
 Oakland. They moved over to town yesterday, and the 
 boy went from the house this morning, lost his way and 
 could not find it back. I happened to meet him in the 
 streets and brought him here, thinking you would know 
 the private address of Mr. Tem Oldock, he being your 
 tenant here in this building and a man of standing." 
 
 **Well, I don't," he replied sourly. "We have not been 
 notified of any change of residence by Mr. Tem Oldock. 
 He has not been here all day to-day, too ; hunting the boy 
 probably. Somebody in their office is to blame. I guess 
 I know him, too. It is no fault of ours. What do you 
 want to come round here for making a fuss, at this time 
 of the night. Why don't you take the boy over to Oak- 
 land with you and bring him back to-morrow. By morn- 
 ing the newspapers will have all the story." He was 
 thinking, judging by my way of speaking, that I lived in 
 Oakland, had known the family there, perhaps been work- 
 ing for them ; just what I wanted him to think. 
 
 *T happen to have not money enough with me for that," 
 I rejoined, "but even if I had, I should not think that 
 would do at all ; it would be cruelty to the boy and to his 
 folks perhaps even more." 
 
 "Well, I don't know that I can help you any. Why 
 don't you go to the police ?" 
 
 At the very first the thought of going to the police 
 had presented itself to me, but as something to be avoided 
 by all possibilities. Afterwards the idea had recurred to 
 me, but in my exaltation of feeling, and things seeming 
 to work smoothly, I had put it away from me without 
 much thought. I don't know that I fully realized what 
 
 421 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 appl3nng to the police all meant to me, in what difficulties 
 it could entangle me, how it might disastrously end all my 
 hopes, my whole life, but instinctively as soon as Mr. 
 Ben spoke, I was ready to fight the idea, when I had 
 an inspiration, giving up for the time all my own wishes, 
 plans, claims, throwing all away to immediately and se- 
 curely bring little Mahon to his home. 
 
 "I think you can help us very much," I said, "and at 
 once help us out of all our trouble, if you will kindly 
 telephone now to the Chief of Police. He will know Mr. 
 Tern Oldock's address, I am sure." 
 
 "Now, by George!" cried Mr. Ben, "you struck it." 
 
 He went to the telephone at once, but it took a long 
 time before he could get the connection. 
 
 In my excitement I had hardly formed any plan how 
 finally to get little Mahon delivered home, except that 
 I meant to take him in a street car as near to the house 
 as possible, then to go on foot with him as much farther 
 as would answer, and then send him up to the front door 
 by himself, remaining myself on watch at a sheltered 
 point of observation. Then as soon as the door was 
 opened and the boy received in safety, I should make my 
 escape. I believe something like this or some other plan 
 equally as foolish was in my mind. I had not wanted 
 Mahon to see me, nor any of the family. But now it 
 was hard to conceive that I could have been so amaz- 
 ingly stupid not to think that little Mahon would be 
 searched for and hunted after, all over town ; as if 
 Mahon and the family would be sitting round the tea 
 table, calmly waiting for my little boy to come his way 
 back and ring the doorbell. I understood now that if 
 I did not want to be seen by Mahon, I must look out. I 
 suppose I just got into the Jones Block in time to escape 
 being taken up with the boy on the streets, too, by some 
 policeman. 
 
 "I reckon half the police force is out scouring the town 
 
 422 
 
CHRONICLES Of MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 for you, my young gentleman," exclaimed Mr. Ben to 
 little Mahon. "And somebody punched your nose," he 
 added. He was quite civil spoken now, if still with a lit- 
 tle air of protest at times. 
 
 "The lines are awfully bad to-night, he explained to me, 
 everybody is talking. But you struck it, by Jove. Just 
 as soon as we get the connection we shall know." 
 
 Then in a minute he was speaking and in a few more 
 he hung up the instrument and turning to the boy, said : 
 "Your father will be here in twenty minutes. He had 
 just come into the police office with the Chief." 
 
 I had not now come to any resolution what to do with 
 myself, only that I did not want Mahon to see me, and 
 yet I wanted to stay by and guard little Mahon till the 
 last minute. I stood and moved about in the inner court 
 and the main entrance and came back, repeating that sev- 
 eral times, so that little Mahon should think nothing of 
 my moving about this way and not think that I was go- 
 ing to leave him. I went outside once or twice, too, and 
 stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds. Fewer people 
 were in the street, yet enough for me to lose myself 
 amongst. I walked back into the vestibule and ran up 
 the one flight of stairs. There were two flights connected 
 by platforms half way up, with corner pillars and angle 
 pillars, posts and heavy balustrades, all of marble, with 
 heavy, ornamental, black iron screens. From behind one 
 of the big angle pillars, when I stepped close up to the 
 screen, I had a full view of the inner court and. com- 
 pletely hidden myself, looked right down on little Mahon. 
 He was sitting just as I had placed him. Several per- 
 sons were standing 'round him, janitors, elevator men 
 and whatever they might be, all but mobbing him, Mr. 
 Ben leading the attack, questioning and explaining to the 
 others and declaiming, the little fellow keeping up bravely, 
 answering in his simple way the questions he could an- 
 
 423 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 swer, but often glancing around, looking, I thought for 
 his protector. 
 
 I ran downstairs and entered the court and came to 
 him. The gentlemanly mob drifted away at my ap- 
 proach, Mr. Ben saying ostentatiously: ''He is all right." 
 The little face brightened. 
 
 AVhen we were alone, I took his hurt, little hand and 
 kissed it. 
 
 "Are you going away now ?" he asked. 
 
 'T am only going outside. I shall not go away till I 
 see your father here. He will be here now immediately," 
 I told him. 
 
 And when 1 came outside, I saw him. 
 
 1 saw him. I knew him. But what disappointment to 
 find him so changed ! Where was the large-limbed giant 
 of my childhood days? 
 
 I did not see the first meeting between the little man 
 and his father. When I came to my lookout place on the 
 stair platform behind the angle pillar, little Mahon was 
 hanging on his father's neck, all his self-command gone 
 now, his face pressed to his father's breast, his whole, 
 little body shaking with sobbing. Mahon was speaking to 
 him, admonishing him, it must be, not to cry ; for he be- 
 gan to struggle as I had seen him do before, unavailing at 
 first, till with a great effort he straightened himself, loos- 
 ened his arms, slipped down and stood by his father, 
 turned close to him yet and his lips still quivering, dry- 
 ing his face on his father's handkerchief and blowing his 
 poor, little, swollen nose. 
 
 Mr. Ben now drew near, and I caught some words he 
 spoke. He had sent for a cab. He also must be telling 
 Mahon sornething of my role in this melodrama. "Stout 
 Mexican boy," I heard myself called several times. 
 Mahon glanced round ; Mr. Ben, too. Little Mahon was 
 appealed to; but he shook his head a little, and I could 
 just know, if they asked for me, he would be saying: "I 
 
 424 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 tiiiiik he is gone." The cab arrived. Mahon with the 
 boy by the hand, was going toward the entrance, Mr. Ben 
 convoying them on, what sailors would call, the weather 
 beam. I heard the cab door being slammed and the cab 
 rolling away. Mr. Ben went back into the inner court. 
 Some lights were turned off, I left my recess in the angle 
 pillar, sneaked down the stairs, out into the street and 
 walked the streets for long hours as my father would do 
 so many years ago. 
 
 All day yesterday and to-day I have wandered about, 
 out to the Stillborn place, the barn door, the empty blocks 
 of building lots, along the car line into town, over Russian 
 Hill all the way I went with little Mahon, going into the 
 same eating house, sitting at the same table, going down 
 to the altered Tem Oldock Block and to the Jones Block, 
 standing outside, across the street. 
 
 The pressure of his arms is always around my neck, 
 his head on my shoulder. I am like one lost in sweet 
 unreality. It is my little brother I am holding in my 
 arms. 
 
 Of course it was the resemblance of Mahon I saw in 
 the boy, and I took it for Harry's ; his age being the same 
 that Harry's was when we parted. The blue eyes with 
 the long, black lashes are Mahon's exactly. My brother's 
 eyes were different. But in other ways little Mahon did 
 resemble little Harry. He does ; I cannot get over it. In 
 manner and in speaking, too. When he asked : "Do you 
 know us?" and. "Are you going away now?" it was my 
 brother that spoke. He would have used the same words 
 and in the same way, with the same expression of voice. 
 
 But Mahon's boy is not in the least bashful as my 
 brother was. He is as I was, and it is I that is being 
 carried by my father. 
 
 425 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 Again, I may be all mistaken. What was the picture 
 in me of my childhood's Mahon? May it not be similar 
 with my recollections of my brother? How often have 
 I not seen children that I thought resembled Harry? 
 Every blue-eyed boy of his age and nice appearance and 
 giving signs of his gentle disposition has seemed to me to 
 look like him. Can I be all wrong? Have I in all that 
 shut-in life built up a fanciful world of the past, by which 
 I now find myself surrounded and cut off from the real 
 world ? 
 
 One week is past. I must come to some conclusion. 
 
 As long as I knew nothing of anybody's being here I 
 had only to wish and hope that somebody would come 
 and the rest would arrange itself by itself, so easily, 
 naturally, I did not even consider, (so it now seems) what 
 that rest would consist of. Or my longing was so great 
 it did away with all power of reasoning as to what re- 
 mained to be done afterwards. 
 
 When I met little Mahon and learned that which I 
 had hardly dared to believe would happen some time in 
 the fortuneful future ; had already happened : Mahon was 
 already here, it could not but overcome me. His child in 
 my hands ! at my knees, giving his name ! And little 
 Harry brought back to me by Mahon's boy ! Then seeing 
 Mahon! I could only give myself up to it. 
 
 But now, what shall I do? 
 
 Mahon, a man of family now, of standing in the com- 
 monwealth of this country ! He may not, and I reckon 
 he is not the man of business and action his father al- 
 ways was. Still, if for no other reason than his share in 
 his father's wealth he must be a prominent member of 
 the community. And can I, a convict, inflict myself on 
 him? 
 
 426 
 
CHROXICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 1 know he will not care. If 1 go to him and tell 
 him who 1 am, and that I want to come to him, I know 
 he will say, "come." But can 1 go? The wife and chil- 
 dren! Can 1 so thrust myself upon them? 
 
 Did 1 not go purposely to kill that man ? But the 
 cause ! The wrong ! 
 
 But the cause! the wrong! And if it was not enough, 
 have I not paid for it? Have I not paid for it? Am I 
 not still paying for it, whether I will or not ? Shall I not 
 pay for it as long as I live? Is not that atonement 
 enough? What more can I do? Tell me somebody and 
 I will do it. I will do it, try to do it. But do not tell 
 me that I must repent, for I cannot be sorry for what I 
 did. That is impossible. Invent some other punishment 
 instead of that, and I will take it, some chastisement fierce 
 and raw. I will bear it, be it everlasting. Did I not 
 bear the terrors when but a child? Give me some task, 
 wherein I may work out my purification, if I must be 
 purified and made fit to associate with Mahon and his 
 family, his wife and children. 
 
 For that is what I want, their friendship, their home, 
 to be one w'ith them ! 
 
 And my brother? 
 
 How does everything seem twisted that I constantly 
 confound my brother with jMahon's boy? 
 
 As regards Mahon, the secret of my life is twofold — 
 my identity the first, my prison-life the other. When 
 they are unclosed, then should my life in prison be wiped 
 out by the fact of who I am, the boy that loved him and 
 was his devoted follower and would be that now again ; 
 the boy he so often protected, and who will now defend 
 and protect his children to his last breath, who has rescued 
 and protected one of them already. 
 
 Sometimes I think Mahon has utterly forgotten me, 
 as he did before. But I will not tell him who I am. I 
 will leave that till Mr. Tern Oldock has come back. He 
 
 427 
 
CHRONICLES Oi^ MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 will know me. All secrets will be out when Mr. Tern 
 Oldock is returned. But will Mahon remember then? 
 
 1 am in his house. 
 
 His wife has left him. She ran away with some one 
 else. The man at the very start of the elopement was 
 killed by some accident. Mahon obtained a full divorce 
 and possession of the children, two boys, twins, my little 
 Mahon, whom they call Mark and the other named John 
 Henry. 
 
 Mahon told me everything, very much in the way his 
 father used to tell his tales, rather disconnectedly and 
 with repetitions ; quite the same, only that he is more 
 candid. 
 
 Altogether he reminds me of his father now much more 
 than he ever did before. 
 
 Less jolly he has become, more serious. But I well 
 remember that with all his frolicsomeness, when a boy, 
 he always treated what was seriously put before him, 
 seriously. 
 
 He told me everything. I knew he very soon would. 
 And does he really not know me at all ? It seems impos- 
 sible. But yet it is so. It gave me a bitter enough pang 
 to find myself so dead to him. For that is what I am. 
 Gone out of existence and so utterly forgotten as if I 
 never had been! He feels I am a friend, the friend I 
 have pronounced myself to be. I am in a way familiar 
 to him. He is pretty certain, too, that he has met me and 
 has known me some time, somewhere, or that I resemble 
 somebody he has been well acquainted with. He spoke 
 to the boy of an uncle whom I might look like. He 
 asked me if I had ever been in France. But Manuel, the 
 work boy on the old wharf near his father's old brewery 
 he does not recollect, nor the later Manuel, he went to 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 school with. The earlier one, indeed, he had forgotten 
 when I came into Mr. Tern Oldock's house. It is his 
 memory that is at fault. 
 
 I had gone to the Jones Block on purpose to present 
 myself to him, to wait for him in the entrance. Back in 
 the lobby I saw Mr. Ben and thought he was observing 
 me, I did not particularly care if he did or not. Per- 
 haps I might make use of him for an introduction to 
 Mahon to gain a hearing. Only I had to see Mahon 
 alone first; for, of course there was such a thing as 
 Mahon's not wanting to have anything to do with me at 
 all, the possibility of his knowing me and turning me off, 
 disowning me, denouncing me. I never believed it^ 
 though I don't know that I had any very clearly defined 
 idea about the way Mahon would receive me. But it 
 stood with him to repudiate me if he judged right to do 
 so. I had to give him the chance to do it and for that I 
 wanted to see him first, alone. 
 
 I had to wait a long time. It was after eleven o'clock 
 when I saw Mahon coming straight towards me. He di4 
 not see me till I addressed him, right in the wide entrance 
 of the building. 
 
 As he looked at me, his face brightened, like his little 
 son's face had brightened, as his own face, when he was 
 a boy, would brighten at any glad emotion, as with a 
 flash. 
 
 ''Why," he exclaimed, "how are yon ?" stopping to ex- 
 tend his hand. 
 
 Then, instantly there was a change. 
 
 'T beg your pardon," he said, "I thought I knew you. 
 You must resemble some one I am acquainted with. Ex- 
 cuse the mistake." 
 
 He still smiled, but he did not know me. He spoke 
 
 429 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 very politely. His politeness disconcerted me a little, as 
 well as my finding myself such a complete blank to him. 
 1 could see he had not the least idea who I was, and also 
 that he made not the least effort to remember. But my 
 disconcertion he noticed and with an unexpected gentle- 
 ness, when he saw I could not speak, remarked, "But you 
 were speaking to me." 
 
 1 had prepared myself a little for what I would say to 
 him, but only very slowly did I gain self-possession 
 enough to speak with some clearness and certainty. 
 
 1 told him I had been given to understand that he was 
 going with his family to Mexico, where he or his father 
 or both had possessions and that T had come to ask him to 
 take me along with him in his employ. He would make 
 me very happy if he did. 1 had always wished to go 
 there. I was almost a Mexican. I was a gardener and 
 other things. 1 should serve him faithfully. I could 
 take care of horses, cattle, chickens, children, any kind 
 of animals. 
 
 My name I spoke very guiltily, Manuel Eguren, the 
 name I had borne in school : almost losing my breath, 
 stopping short to be recognized. But no recognition 
 came, and at the mention of the children a look of dis- 
 trust came in his face. Involuntarily, it seemed, he 
 stepped back a little into a recess in the vestibule wall. 
 He glanced right and left along the stream of people, 
 moving out and in at our side. 
 
 I was observing him. He should be taller, broader, 
 heavier, larger every way. The longer 1 looked the less 
 I saw of the old Mahon. My imagination could not 
 adapt what I saw to the past; at least but little. His 
 eyes have the old lighting up that appears to brighten all 
 that surrounds him. His red cheeks are gone. He looks 
 quite pale, if not of an unhealthy paleness. His mus- 
 tache liides his mouth and I could hardly follow some of 
 
 430 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 the old lines of good will around his lips. There was 
 more than I saw though. 
 
 At first he did not look at me very much. He stood 
 leisurely listening with perfect good breeding, seeming in 
 a way to like to listen to me. Once when I looked toward 
 Mr. Ben, he followed my glance, but he scarcely appeared 
 interested. 
 
 All the time I continued to speak. Beginning in next 
 to incoherence, I pretty soon had to take care, not to be- 
 come too familiar in mv manner. 
 
 It was very hard. In me was something calling, cry- 
 ing all the time. *'Mahon! Mahon ! Don't you know me?" 
 I could only hold it dowm by keeping on talking. 
 
 I had been to sea, I told him, and I had lived and 
 worked on a farm and in the city and could do any kind 
 of work in the house or field. "Or for your children," 
 I proceeded, "as a sort of first tutor, as long as they are 
 little, I know I should give satisfaction. All the ele- 
 mentary branches taught in our public schools I can teach 
 them. Spanish, too, and music, if you like. And I can 
 put them to pull an oar, sail a boat, break and handle a 
 horse, box a bout, sing a song and dance a jig. I have 
 no home, no folks, nor any other ailments except a few 
 hundred dollars in the bank. I am constant, I like work, 
 and I love children." 
 
 There was interest enough in his face now and no dis- 
 trust nor displeasure. With his brightest smile he asked : 
 
 "Will you not tell me who you are?" 
 
 "I wish," I said, "you would not insist on my telling 
 you all about myself now. I should like you to become 
 acquainted with me first, to see for yourself what I am 
 and if all I have praised myself up to be. comes true. 
 You will soon enough know enough of me. If you re- 
 member at all, I cannot remain a secret long. I know I 
 ought to tell you, even if you should not know then. But 
 in truth, you ought to know me without any telling for 
 
 4.^1 
 
CHRONICLES Of MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 you were my friend once. No, not once, but a hundred 
 times, and I was yours always." 
 
 "Were you ever in France?" 
 
 "I never was away from the Pacific coast." 
 
 "Well, I cannot place you. But who told you that I 
 wanted somebody for the children, for just such a posi- 
 tion, in fact, as you are applying for ? Will you not tell 
 me that ? Has anybody sent you ?" 
 
 "I did not say," I returned, "that anybody had told me 
 you wanted a tutor for your children, or general-utility 
 man, or sort of serving man. But somebody did tell me 
 that your father, Mr. John Tem Oldock had gone to 
 Mexico, shortly to return and that as soon as he came 
 back, you all were going to Mexico, to live there." 
 
 "And?" 
 
 I had noticed Mr. Ben approaching. 
 
 "It was your son," I said. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 At that moment Mr. Ben laid his hand on my arm and 
 called out loud : "This is the fellow Mr. Tem Oldock, he 
 is the fellow who brought your boy here the other night." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Mahon; and we both laughed and 
 shook hands. 
 
 Before the laugh was ended, I had told him I should 
 need the balance of that day and part of next day to ar- 
 range about my different gardening jobs and to get some 
 men to see to them for my customers, but that I should 
 be at his house with my things the evening of the next 
 day. 
 
 He smiled assent and said, "all right." And not a word 
 more did he utter relative to my place in the family, my 
 situation, my position in the house. He takes it for 
 granted that I shall make my own place, find my own du- 
 ties, prepare and do my own work. And in all this he 
 is entirely his own, old self. 
 
 He had that morning taken the boys to Oakland, to 
 
 432 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 visit the Mrs. Smith, at whose boarding house or private 
 hotel they had hved before they moved to the city. He 
 was going over the bay again in the afternoon to fetch 
 them back. Now he proposed to stay over there with 
 them and return with them home the next day, when I 
 would be coming out to the house in the evening. 
 
 Mahon had proposed to keep the children in ignorance 
 of my coming, promising me that little Mahon should 
 recognize me by himself. But when I came to the house, 
 I found he had told the boys everything, quite in the way 
 his father would have acted, and perhaps to everybody's 
 greater satisfaction. For I am not at all sure that little 
 Mahon would have recognized me without prompting. 
 Now, however, he came running, jumping upon me, be- 
 fore I was well inside the door, throwing his arms round 
 me. And when I took him up to sit on my left arm with 
 his feet out behind and asked him, ''This is the way I 
 carried you, don't you remember?" he shouted, ''Look, 
 papa ! Henry, look ! Look, papa, look ! This is the 
 way he carried me." He was so free of all reserve now, 
 letting me handle him and do with him as I pleased, so 
 openly confident, affectionate, happy as was worth any 
 hundred surprises however well prepared and success- 
 fully carried out. 
 
 It was amusing, too, how he did a little showing off 
 with his prior acquaintance with me, informing his twin 
 brother with some importance that I was the man who 
 had brought him all the way to the Jones Block. When 
 I looked at his hurts and inquired how they were, he ex- 
 clairned, "Oh ! that was nothing." 
 - The other boy is very different. He is very bashful. 
 
 I had sent out my traps to the house by an expressrnan. 
 Tliey arrived while we were at supper and were carried 
 
 433 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 up to my room by one of the four Chinamen in the house, 
 who are all servants, old and tried, of Mr. Tem Oldock. 
 We all went, after supper upstairs together and I was 
 shown my bedroom adjoining the boys' rooms. On the 
 other side of the boys' nursery are Mahon's rooms and 
 some bathrooms. Mr. Tem Oldock's rooms are in front. 
 The way the house has been furnished, after having very 
 lately been bought by Mr. Tem Oldock, does not make it 
 look as if there would be a speedy departure for Mexico. 
 
 Naturally there was no rest till I had opened my boxes 
 and shown my musical instruments and other possessions. 
 After that T proposed a play with the children to make 
 us gdi acquainted quicker, one of the plays my father 
 used to play with Harry and me, which I never forgot, 
 which plays always were to me the perfection of such 
 childrens' entertainments. Mahon was looking on. He 
 claimed to have an appointment to go somewhere. I at 
 first thought he hesitated to leave the boys in my charge, 
 but he lingered as if he would really like to join us, till 
 he went oflf hurriedly, just as the play was growing most 
 interesting. 
 
 A mirror laid flat on the nursery table was a big lake or 
 inland sea, whatever the children wanted; out of handy 
 things; blocks, boxes, tablescloths, books; the hilly land 
 around the lake was formed as were also the mountains 
 farther back. With the contents of toy-boxes the coun- 
 try was settled up. Towns were founded, roads were 
 built, railroads and even tunnels. Little squares of paper 
 were folded to sail as boats the glassy deep. Larger ships 
 had toothpicks for masts. Trading around the inland 
 sea became lively. Sometimes a hurricane scattered the 
 vessels ; then the end had come. One of the Chinese ser- 
 vants, who is quite an elderly man appeared and said it 
 was bedtime. He came to put the children to bed, but 
 T told him I should see to it myself. 
 
 When I put little Mahon in his bed, he asked : 
 
 434 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ''Will you stay with us now always ?" 
 
 "Your papa has not told me yet if he will want me to." 
 
 "Oh, do stay! Stay with us!" 
 
 "T will, if your papa is satisfied." 
 
 "Oh, he is satisfied." 
 
 "He may not be." 
 
 "Oh, yes! he will. Do you know many such plays.?" 
 
 "Yes, a good many ! My father used to play such plays 
 with me often and show me others ; me and my brother. 
 You remember, I told you I once had a little brother, 
 just like you, don't you?" 
 
 "I don't know. I don't think I remember. Is he not 
 
 here now ?" 
 
 "No, I don't know where he is, he went away with his 
 
 mama." 
 
 The little fellow lay quite still. He was looking me in 
 the eyes. And with an expression of something not un- 
 like awe he asked in a half whisper : "Did your mama go 
 away from you when you were little?" 
 
 Presently he was asleep. 
 
 I was all the time careful not to obtrude myself on the 
 shy little Henry. Shy, yes ! but how different from little 
 Harry ! He is not only bashful, and in some ways he is 
 not bashful at all. He reminds me of something I don't 
 want to think of, at times. He has a way of what I 
 should call working an advantage out of his father's re- 
 gard for his shy disposition; working on his sympathy, 
 acting so as to make himself out more bashful yet than 
 he is, so as to make his father believe him to be the still 
 greater sufferer from his peculiar disposition. For the 
 boy's condition appeals to Mahon's strong, inborn sense 
 of helpfulness and protection of the weak, and makes him 
 
 435 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 ever ready in the boy's defence. In the same spirit, also, 
 Mahon seems to give the boy Henry more Hcense to do 
 and say what Httle Mahon is not allowed to say and do 
 without reprimand or even punishment. And so manfully 
 does little Mahon take it ! 
 
 Mahon is very wrong in this and I shall tell him sc 
 before another day is done. He acts, as I believe many 
 fathers, under the mistaken idea that they can in that 
 way even up things between children. Or, very often, in 
 fact, most of the time, there is personal feeling in the 
 matter. Little Henry's helpless bashfulness makes 
 Mahon cross, and little Mahon catches it. 
 
 It was near midnight when Mahon returned. He had 
 been to Oakland to pay Mrs. Smith another visit after 
 having, but a few hours ago, I might say, left her. 
 
 When I heard from him where he had been, I felt 
 sure he was going to marry Mrs. Smith, what he after- 
 wards admitted to be the case. 
 
 I longed to ask him if he had any orders for me from 
 her, but I thought he would have to be educated up a 
 little to my way of joking before I allowed myself such 
 liberties. However I soon found, that I should not have 
 been far from right. Her influence and her power over 
 him were detectable in all his communications and the 
 result of his consultations with her plainly showed itself 
 in a number of what could be called instructions. 
 
 I had been wondering before, why he had not remained 
 living in Oakland, boarding with Mrs. Smith, at her pri- 
 vate hotel. I am now convinced that it was she that sent 
 him away. And I reckon it was advisable. And I have 
 come to the conclusion that sTie is something of a superior 
 mutually, strongly attached. 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 woman of tact and judgment, sensible if, maybe, not 
 very quick, firm, yet tender-hearted, and that they are 
 
 Certainly I cannot know it altogether for sure, but I 
 believe he went to her to-night to obtain her permission 
 to take me into his full confidence. Or if permission be 
 too harsh an expression, I will say, he went to her for 
 her sanction, her approval of such a step. 
 
 When he went to Oakland the day he had first met me 
 he made his report to her of all that had happened, of 
 my appearance on the scene, my almost forcing myself 
 on him and his family. He and she had then most as- 
 suredly talked me over: the likeliness of my being some 
 one he had known formerly here, in this place, and for- 
 gotten; the possibility of my being an emissary of some 
 sort of the divorced woman, but the improbability of the 
 same. It all had duly been considered ; he had asked her 
 advice, what he should do ; she had conditioned for time 
 till to-night to think it over ; to-night they had talked it 
 all over again, and she had advised him to do what he had 
 been ready and wanting to do spontaneously himself : to 
 take me for the friend I had so openly declared myself 
 
 to be. 
 
 Hence the bright smile on his face, and the eager clasp 
 of his hand as I opened the door for him, as I heard him 
 coming up the front steps. 
 
 He was very glad to find I had not gone to bed, he 
 said, as he wanted to confer with me very much about 
 several things. But if I was tired or not disposed to 
 be bothered with confidential intercourse so late at night 
 he would postpone what he had to say till morning. Only 
 that he thought, since I proposed to become an inmate 
 of the house, a trainer of the children and a friend to all 
 the family, the sooner I became acquainted with the con- 
 dition of things concerning all parties, the better. 
 
 I told him he was right, and I was altogether at his 
 
 437 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 disposal, when he asked me into his bedroom, where he 
 took off his coat and sat with me in his shirt sleeves. 
 
 He first made some observations on the coincidence of 
 my coming to him at the very time he ever had most 
 wanted such a friend. For, as an act of the greatest 
 friendship, he said, he regarded it, for me to offer myself 
 as companion, teacher and trainer of the boys, something 
 he himself never had been and never would be fit and 
 able to be. 
 
 But he must tell me right off, he interrupted himself 
 that he was not going to Mexico. He hoped that would 
 not make him lose me and that I could be prevailed upon, 
 being so fond of the children and such a true, old, though 
 as yet unknown friend of his, to stay with them and be- 
 come one of them altogether. 
 
 For himself he must say he was a Calif ornian born and 
 had come back now to California to remain as long as 
 he lived, to be and stay a Californian rancher ; a farmer. 
 "The only thing he was still fit to be was a farmer," he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "The first time I found that out," he went on, "was 
 when I was a young fellow of sixteen, seventeen, maybe 
 eighteen years of age, just before I went away from here 
 with my father to Europe, where I have lived a fool's 
 life since that time. 
 
 "I don't remember the circumstances. My memory is 
 bad. I had accidentally gotten on some ranch hereabouts 
 belonging to some acquaintance of my father, where I 
 worked in the fields just like a farm hand. And it was 
 the best time of my life, if I had only known it. But I 
 was too young and too ignorant to know what I felt and 
 wanted. And traveling, going to Europe and elsewhere 
 seemed to be a fine thing, too. That was my first ex- 
 perience. 
 
 "The second time was when I was traveling with my 
 wife. She was suddenly confined. The boys were born 
 
 438 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 For quite a time we were detained in a small village near 
 the eastern border of Holland. 
 
 "I used to knock round and pass my time watchmg the 
 men and women working in the fields. And then, talk- 
 ing to them and inquiring and afterwards havmg records 
 searched. I found out there, nearby where we were 
 staying was the place where long ago my folks, my an- 
 cestors now, had owned large farms of rich bottom-lands, 
 had lived and tilled their big East Frisian fields for hun- 
 dreds of years. And one fine day, a beautiful summer 
 day I had gone out in the fields and stood lookmg at 
 the crops, and it came to me, such must be my life in the 
 fields like of my ancestors. It came to me, I don't know 
 how, but it came to me, just as I was standing there look- 
 ing over the fields full of ripening grain, waving in tiie 
 soft breeze. How it came I cannot tell, nor really what 
 it was that came to me, but those crops, those waving 
 grain fields, I liked them above all things, and at once 1 
 felt such a place that was the place where I belonged. 
 And I kind of made up my mind I would live and die 
 on a farm. I had to, it seemed, and my children after 
 
 ''But then I had a wife and she was rich. And I had 
 a father and he was rich. So what could I do. 
 
 "And now I will just tell you how I am situated and 
 
 how I feel. , , ^ cu 
 
 ''My wife is gone. Well, I told you that before. She 
 made life a hell for me while she had the chance. I am 
 free of her. I am legally and fully divorced. But she 
 may come for the children, steal them, carry them off. 
 She is rich. She knows every trick. 
 
 "I never speak of her, not even to my father. Well 
 yes there is one person I have spoken to of her, and 
 that is the woman I am going to marry, the woman I 
 have been to see to-night. I had to talk to Sarah about 
 her of course. But we don't speak of her unless '- 
 
 439 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 must. 1 want to forget that there is any such as she in 
 the whole world. I don't want to think any more of her 
 at all. But to you I must speak of her, just once. I 
 shall do it but this one time. If I did not tell you about 
 her you would blame me. It would not be fair. For you 
 will now be responsible for the children. 1 shall be with 
 you certainly, if I live. But their principal defender 
 will be you. And I can't help always thinking, how- 
 strange it all worked that you should come to us at the 
 very time w-e needed you most. 
 
 **I have told you, have I not? that we had a tutor. I 
 should not have dismissed him, only he was such a liar. 
 The occasion of Mark's getting lost got him his discharge. 
 He lied so outrageously, I could not stand it. But you 
 cannot think how I fretted. And now this turn that that 
 very accident of the boy's losing himself should bring 
 you to us ! 
 
 "I want to say though that I don't consider the man 
 was to blame for the boy's losing his way, and I told 
 him so. 
 
 "But I have told you this before, more than once, I 
 reckon. And I should be talking of other things that 
 give you an idea of the one you will some day have to 
 fight. 
 
 "Just this for one thing. She told me the day before 
 she ran away, I must not think that the boys were my chil- 
 dren. You may think very poorly of me for telling this. 
 But I think I should be doing wrong in accepting your 
 friendship for myself and more yet for the children if 
 I did not tell you this, or other things as bad, in warning. 
 T don't believe what she said, mind you ! Never ! The 
 boys are mine and I love them. Perhaps I don't concern 
 myself quite as much for one as for the other, but they 
 are mine. 
 
 "Yes, she told me the boys were not my children. Yes ! 
 
 440 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 And she — yes, she told — she told them. Think of it ! A 
 mother to— such — and a He to poison 
 
 "That is the woman. 
 
 "And she does not care a rap for the boys. Naturally 
 she hates children, and for her own not one beat of the 
 heart counts. She only would want to get them away 
 from us, because, well, 1 suppose because we like them 
 and love them. And sometimes I can't help thinking 
 she would want to get them into her hands because she 
 would like to have the corrupting of them, to gratify the 
 depraved cravings of a corrupt mind. 
 
 "Now I rely on you. For in the case of my death 1 
 shall make you guardian of the boys, together with 
 Sarah, and not my father, though he likes the boys as 
 well as I do. And I like my father, too. 
 
 "But now I will tell you. Half of my life is gone, and 
 it was nothing. But no divorced wife, no father and no 
 children shall stand in my way of working out my happi- 
 ness for my own self from this time forth, for what is 
 left of my days. 
 
 "You see, I am a spoilt child. I am the regulation 
 spoilt only son. only child. I have been indulged and in- 
 dulged from the day of my birth. My mother died when 
 I was, oh ! I don't know how young. Had she lived, per- 
 haps. Oh ! what is the use I I can't blame my father for 
 it all. That is. he did not know what he was doing and 
 he does not know what he has done. now. And there is, 
 I cannot deny it, a certain something in me, that lends it 
 self to spoiling me. to let myself be spoilt. 
 
 "It is a kind of laziness. People call me good-natured. 
 That is only laziness. And that laziness makes me sort 
 of ready to be indulged. The woman I was married to, 
 she made me understand that. 
 
 "Still that does not m.ake my father's doings right. 
 And I can well say. if he had sworn to make a loafer of 
 
 441 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 me, he could not have done better than he did. Yes ! I 
 may cry and cry: Had but my father put me to work, 
 made me work ! I would bless every beating he had given 
 me to make me work. 
 
 "What have I learned? What do I know? What can 
 I do? What do I amount to?" 
 
 He was greatly moved and for a moment seemed un- 
 able to control himself. He struggled just as little 
 Mahon had done, till he won. 
 
 And he will win ! 
 
 He then went on to tell me what he proposed to do. 
 He wanted his father to give him outright a piece of 
 land he possessed in California; and I think it is what 
 was my father's ranch. He wanted it, to have for his 
 own, to hold and possess and work as a farm. His idea 
 was to first go on some other farm to work, find a place 
 like a hired man, go out to learn the work and trade and 
 business of farming, like any apprentice to any other 
 trade and business, from the beginning. He was not toe 
 old to learn. Then he would gradually take the working 
 of his own place, the ranch his father had given him onto 
 himself. 
 
 This he wanted decided right away and have his father 
 give him that ranch now. 
 
 But it was not alone a ranch he wanted, he also wanted 
 a wife. He was going to marry again. He had found 
 a woman that would take him, a woman, sensible and 
 clean and sweet, not afraid of work, too, and healthy. 
 And she was born and bred on a farm, too, liked farm 
 life and knew all about it. She was willing to wait till 
 he had learned what he was going to learn. It was her 
 idea in fact that he should go out thus and learn farming, 
 the work and the life of it. When he was ready, they 
 would marry, a year or two hence. But longer than two 
 years he would not wait. Then as soon as he was mar- 
 ried we would live all together on the ranch; his father, 
 
 442 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 too, if he wanted to. For his father was fond of country 
 life himself. 
 
 He knew very well, he said, that Sarah would be boss. 
 But all good women should be boss and manage their 
 husbands. Men were only good for doing work. 
 
 She was a widow and about three months older than 
 he. That was another point that was all right, he ex- 
 claimed. And he could only advise me to go and do like- 
 wise. But about that he would not say anything. Prob- 
 ably I had already some one in view, and she should be 
 as welcome on the ranch as myself when I brought her 
 there. 
 
 "And now," he concluded, ''there are our boys. We, 
 that is Sarah and I, have been quite a little puzzled how 
 to dispose of the two. Of course Sarah would take them 
 without asking, and with the one it would probably work 
 all right, even after Sarah has children of her own, which 
 I certainly shall want her to have. But two and so dif- 
 ferent as to really require a separate treatment, how i? 
 that to work ? And how are they to be separately treated, 
 unless they are separated? It is too ridiculous. You 
 will find it out yourself. I don't know sometimes what 
 to do. It is really an awful thing. Consider how it must 
 handicap anybody to be thus smitten and stricken with 
 shyness! It is just as mean, yes as mean as being a 
 coward. Sometimes I cannot help thinking it actually 
 makes a person cowardly all the way through. Now, the 
 other one, he does not take up with everybody for a 
 friend, and I can't say I quite like it, but he has his pick. 
 For all his life, there are people pushing him along, while 
 with the other it is all up-hill work. He is afraid or 
 shy of everybody. He can make no friends. He cannot 
 do things rightly. He is dead against himself. He must 
 be helped, and that will fall to your lot, that will be your 
 principal task, to help him and help us to make a man 
 of him. 
 
 443 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALANUS 
 
 , "Once we thought of taking one and letting my father 
 take the other. He would like to take both. But can I 
 consent to that? Can I allow them to be spoilt, like I 
 have been, and my life rumed ? Well, no! I won't say 
 that. I can't say that. Not altogether. I shall get on 
 top yet. 
 
 **Now, your coming has solved the puzzzle. If you 
 take charge of them, everything is settled. You will 
 live with the boys at Mrs. Smith's till we are married, 
 when you will come to live with us on the ranch. 
 
 "Is that satisfactory?" 
 
 "Say, yes ! Say it is all right !" 
 
 I had to smile as I told him, he ought to wait till his 
 father came to have his say in the matter and to identify 
 me. 
 
 He came to-day. 
 
 As he saw me. he called out: "Hallo, Manuel!" just 
 as I had known he would, holding out his hand, pointing 
 to the scar, the mark of my teeth. 
 
 "So, you know him?" Mahon said. 
 
 "Know him? Why, don't you?" 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 "Well, if you don't, you ought to. Do you mean to 
 tell me that you don't know who this is?" 
 
 "I know who he is? I don't know who he was; and 
 T don't want to know. He has come to me as a friend, 
 T have taken him as a friend. He is my friend and the 
 friend of my children who already take to him, as if they 
 had known him all their life. Why should I want to 
 know who he was?" 
 
 "And why should they not take to him?" cried Mr. 
 Tem Oldock. "Is he not their uncle?" 
 
 "Uncle?" 
 
 444 
 
CHRONICLES OF MANUEL ALAN US 
 
 "Why, to be sure ! Are you not the son of Henry 
 Alanus, and is not the daughter of Henry Alanus their 
 mother?" 
 
 "Their mother?" 
 
 "Why, certainly ! Cora !" 
 
 "Cora! And Harry?" 
 
 "What Harry?" 
 
 "My brother!" 
 
 "Oh ! Uncle Henrv ! He is dead." 
 
 445 
 
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