(1*0
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 THE STORY OF A PROSPECTOR 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY G. CATLIN 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GEORGE H. RICHMOND & CO. 
 
 1897
 
 G3 
 XV 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY 
 GEORGE H. RICHMOND & CO. 
 
 of I. J. Li 
 or Place, N 
 
 ew York
 
 NOTE 
 
 OF this now fast closing century a picturesque and 
 distinctively American character has been the pros 
 pector. 
 
 The discovery of gold in California awoke in their 
 descendants something of that old ardor which two 
 hundred and more years ago animated the early 
 comers to North America. 
 
 From Maine to Florida sturdy, adventurous spirits 
 felt the thrill of an inherited tendency which, for so 
 long dormant, reasserted itself, and flocked to the new 
 Golconda. The indolent, the timid, the conservative 
 did not go; but when considerations of convenience, 
 propriety, and duty allowed, the ambitious, assertive 
 young men crossed the plains or took shipping for 
 California. 
 
 On that distant Pacific coast assembled a community 
 of young men, an aggregation of energy, physical 
 strength, and enthusiasm never before equalled. 
 
 The wild spirits of youth, the absence of all restraint, 
 the force of early education, the democratic temper 
 mixed with the exhilaration of adventure and the in 
 toxication of the gold thirst. Out of this medley of 
 influences came a class marked and distinctive within 
 the limits of an individualism pertaining to its com 
 ponent parts.
 
 iv NOTE 
 
 California was the rude school; the wider experi 
 ences of the great wilds completed the education. 
 
 The man who remained in California became pro 
 vincial; it is not of him I speak. 
 
 The man who went out into the wilderness, his 
 horse and pack mule, arms, provisions, and tools all 
 he could call his own; led by an impulse stronger 
 than love of ease, comfort, or life ; his one all-absorb 
 ing idea the finding of the precious metals, which 
 when found but urged him to further quest ; that man 
 whom neither cold nor heat, thirst nor blood could 
 stop; broadened by diversified experiences, tinted 
 with the coloring of varied climates, forged into a 
 type by blows from opposing forces; the mountain 
 wanderer, the tireless seeker, of him I tell. Much as 
 I regret that no better artist limns him, for he is 
 worthy a master s pencil, I make no apology for my 
 rude sketching. My acquaintance has been long and 
 intimate with him, and while, perhaps, something of 
 kindred feeling assures me that I know him well, it is 
 only because he is a passing, vanishing figure in our 
 American life that I am prompted to do my little to 
 preserve his memory. 
 
 With such change of time, place, and sequence of 
 incident as has seemed fitting to me, the story is a true 
 one. 
 
 There may be those who, putting this and that 
 together, may now know more of a simple secret long 
 kept by a simple man; if so, old comradeship will, I 
 know, keep their lips closed.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 " THAT ain t no bed-rock, Bud." 
 
 " It is all there seems to be." 
 
 "Well, pan her out and let s see how she pros 
 pects; I don t think ye ll raise a color." 
 
 Moving down the creek, Bud selects a still spot in 
 the water, in the lee of a big boulder, and with a hand 
 on each side of the iron gold -pan, holds it under the 
 water and gives it that oscillating motion, the first 
 movement in the process for determining the rich 
 ness of the gravel in bright grains of gold, which 
 among gold miners is termed panning. He stops, and 
 with the fingers of one hand rakes off the coarser par 
 ticles of the gravel with which the pan is filled, and 
 begins again. 
 
 Bending over him, one foot in the water of the 
 little stream, the other on its bank, and resting an 
 elbow on his elevated knee, old Zeb awaits the result. 
 
 " You hain t give her no chance, Bud; this Salmon 
 River gold is mostly on the bed-rock, and ye didn t 
 have no bed-rock. 
 
 " I can see black sand and iron rocks and rubies, any 
 way; I think there will be gold. I don t know much 
 about it, but it looks to me favorable for a prospect."
 
 2 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 The gyratory oscillations stopped, and a new shak 
 ing movement brought to the surface the lighter 
 sands, and, holding it on a slant, Bud dipped the pan 
 in the water, lifting it again so that each receding of 
 the water, like the ocean wave on some quiet shore, 
 carried off its burden of sand, each wave reducing the 
 volume in the pan; and after every dip came a shake, 
 bringing to the surface other grains of sand, and other 
 receding waves carried them away until only the heav 
 ier particles remained. Slowly went the final process 
 of panning down. Under the covering of black sand 
 lay the hidden probabilities, for Bud was too good a 
 panner to show color yet. 
 
 " I tell ye, ye hain t give her no show, Bud. If she 
 prospects at all, we ll go to bed-rock if we have to 
 bale the water out the hole; but she won t, taint 
 reason." 
 
 The end was coming ; only a trifle of black sand re 
 mained in the angle made by the bottom and side of 
 the pan. With a dexterous movement the black cov 
 ering rolled away, and several bright grains of gold lay 
 at the end of the sand, making a yellow tip to its som 
 bre shade. 
 
 " What did I say ? I said it would prospect." 
 
 "That s what ye did, Bud. I didn t think she 
 would. Coarse gold it is too, and rattles in the pan," 
 as he took up a grain and let it fall on the iron bottom. 
 
 " We ll go to bed-rock and we ll get her richer nor 
 twenty-dollar pieces. I see the same lay in Californy 
 in 50; no, twas in 51, on Dutchman Creek. Say, 
 Bud, that gold s better nor eighteen dollars an ounce. 
 That ain t no channel wash, nor no channel gold; the 
 channel is yon by them porphry boulders. It ain t no
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 3 
 
 man s place to say signs is nothing. Ye mind that she- 
 bear we saw on Sulphur Crik, with the two cubs, one 
 black and one brown ? I told ye then we d have luck ; 
 no man never saw them signs that he didn t have 
 luck. Why, there was my pardner Yank, God bless 
 his old soul ! Twas in 49, late, me and Yank had jined 
 and was working a claim ; grub give out. Yank took 
 the sack and went to town ; rode a mustang hellion I 
 had, and packed a pinto we borry d from a Portu- 
 gee who owned the jining claim sich English as 
 that cuss talked ! Well, as I tell ye, Yank he goes for 
 the grub, and as he crossed the divide, he saw a she- 
 bear and two cubs, one on em black and one brown. 
 Yank was free and easy like, had a few drinks when 
 he come to town, and run up agin a game and lost the 
 sack ; twenty-four ounces, I remember. Next morn 
 ing he felt dang d blue. There was I and there was he 
 with no grub; but he says, I ll chance it, and in he 
 goes to Hawkins & Co., the store-keepers, and says 
 he, 1 wants some grub for me and my pardner, and 
 I hain t no dust; my name is Yank; I sailed from 
 Saco, Maine, a- whaling, and when we put in at the 
 Bay I thought I d try the mines. The devil ye 
 did, says Hawkins. Ye can have what ye want ; no 
 Maine man comes to me for grub but he gets it. 
 Yank was that honest he says, But my pardner Zeb, 
 he s from Injiany. Well, says Hawkins, he s in 
 good company if he does hail from that ornery State. 
 I never knew Yank to lie; Yank couldn t lie; but he 
 had been up all night, must have punished a heap of 
 whiskey, for I knew his gait; ennyway he said that 
 old Hawkins said that. Yank never had no conceit of 
 Injiany nor any other State that wan t on the sea;
 
 4 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 said they was no count. Says he to me: Why 
 there s Maine and here s Californy, and both on em 
 on the sea; and what could I say ? I couldn t argy 
 with Yank, nobody could; he was that sort. 
 
 " So soon as old Hawkins said what he did, that 
 she-bear and them cubs jumped on him and he knew 
 twas luck. When he come into the gulch with the 
 grub, Yank told me the whole thing. He was telling 
 the Portugee when he come in our cabin that night, 
 and the Portugee says : No good, losa dora, no good. 
 He meant, ye know, he had lost the dust. Yank 
 didn t say nothing then, but he says to me after 
 ward : How ignorant them Portugees are ! It s a nat- 
 eral thing for a man to lose at a game, but any dang d 
 fool knows it was luck to get that grub. I see that 
 p int myself, for I had tried them games." 
 
 " There must be better ground than that higher up 
 the creek, Zeb," broke in Bud. 
 
 "Of course there is; that ground above the swag 
 is my fancy, over yon beyond the p int. Then I was 
 going out to Hangtown once, and I see a she-bear and 
 two cubs, one black and one brown ; traded off an old 
 ring-boned mare I had for the finest hoss ye ever see ; 
 not a blemish on him; run like a deer. I took real 
 comfort with that hoss till a man come along in about 
 three weeks and proved it was his hoss, stolen from 
 him ; I give the man five ounces rather than part with 
 him." 
 
 "The fall looks pretty good here, and there is 
 plenty of water, and if it s only good on bed-rock, 
 Zeb." 
 
 "Good, man; I tell ye twill be good; them signs 
 never fail. I mind another time Yank sees a she-bear
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 5 
 
 and two cubs, one on em black and one on em brown, 
 as he was going to the Bay. Sold his interest out to 
 me and took three hundred ounces with him to have 
 a go at the Bay. Ye wouldn t believe it, but Yank 
 hadn t been there two weeks fore he married a wo 
 man a butcher was courting, finest woman ye ever see, 
 he told me. Butcher he was mad, and drew his gun 
 on Yank unawares, and pulled the trigger, but the cap 
 didn t snap. In them days, Bud, caps was all the go; 
 no copper cartridges then. This gave Yank time to 
 draw, and he plumped him dead as a door-nail. Yank 
 said when he got the woman and when he got the 
 man he seed that bear and them cubs. He told me 
 many a time that winter, for he come up and stopped 
 with me. He give the woman his sack, and when she 
 got it all, she give him the go-by and left him without 
 a color. Yer a woman, says Yank, and ye have me ; 
 if twere a man twould be different; and he wishes 
 her luck and steps out. Yank was a gentleman, sand 
 from his toes up ; but no softer man to a woman ever 
 lived, and that s why I say Yank was a gentleman in 
 them times. He and I talked it all over. She was 
 a lady, said Yank, and I wasn t good enough for 
 her; she s welcome to it all; how could I think she 
 cared for a dang d fool like me ? I see he was sour 
 and I said nothing, but I thought she d never find a 
 better man, nor could she ; for Yank was a gentleman, 
 never lied, never stole. Yank was a Christian ; that 
 man knew the Bible from end to end. You couldn t 
 stump him on no text; he fought for the weak, played 
 a fair game, and was always behind his gun. Yes, a 
 good man was Yank. He s in heaven now, and there 
 ain t no better there; Yank was a man."
 
 6 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 " I don t care for black bears or cubs, or brown ones 
 either; we will go down to bed-rock, Zeb, and if it s 
 good there we will have a big mine, won t we? " 
 
 " Yes, that s the way I was, Bud; just like ye. Ye 
 go the same gait, on the same trail. I didn t know 
 nothing, didn t believe nothing, when I was twenty- 
 five; sence then I ve seed a heap in Calif orny, in 
 Nevady, in the war, on the Eraser, in Montany, in 
 Arizony, and down among the Greasers, and I have 
 sensed. Pears like a man don t know nothing till he s 
 sixty, Bud; I tell ye," and the old man s arm and 
 hand and finger emphasized the moral, " signs is signs, 
 and it ain t no man s place to say they ain t." 
 
 " Well, well, Zeb, let s go to camp, and to-morrow 
 we ll tackle the ground." 
 
 The sun was setting in all the clear glory of an 
 atmosphere which obtains nowhere else, save in the 
 great inter-mountain country between the Rockies and 
 the Sierras. 
 
 As they walked up the creek the graceful pine squir 
 rels were yet hard at work in preparation for the long 
 winter soon to come ; running up the black pines, out 
 to the end of the branches, testing the little cones, and 
 as one seemed good to them, biting it off and watching 
 its fall to earth ; stopping only in their active labors 
 when some robber of their own kind sought to reap 
 the fruits of their honest toil, and carry to his own 
 store-house the little pine burs. Then the squirrel in 
 the tree would rush down, and with honest indignation 
 and angry chattering drive away his predatory fel 
 low. A lone butterfly before them flitted towards the 
 willows where its bed and board were; belated hor 
 nets and a stray reveller of a black horse-fly, who
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 7 
 
 should have been in bed an hour before, for they are 
 early-to-bed folk, were on their homeward way. A 
 startled grouse flew from their feet, and a bevy of fool 
 hens gave them the road. 
 
 " Yes, we ll find it good on bed-rock, I ll bet; same 
 lay of ground as Shirt-Tail Gulch, if she s only half 
 as good. In 50 Yank and me took out three ounces 
 to the man, but twas Calif orny." 
 
 "It s always California with you, Zeb; Idaho s 
 good enough for me, and Yellow Pine Basin s as 
 likely to be rich as Shirt-Tail Gulch." 
 
 "Yes, for Idaho; but there warn t but one Cali- 
 forny, Bud." 
 
 On the bench above the gently rising bank, with 
 tall pines in the background, as they were thrown 
 from the animals when unsaddled, lay in disorder two 
 riding-saddles, two pack-saddles, rolls of blankets, 
 shovels and picks, flour and bacon, two Winchesters 
 and cartridge belts, and sacks of the goods that make 
 up a prospecting outfit. 
 
 Throwing down the pan and the shovel as old Zeb 
 dropped the pick used in their afternoon s work, the 
 young man said: " You get supper, Zeb, and I ll look 
 up the horses. I don t hear the bell," and started up 
 the creek on his search. 
 
 His old companion put a log on the ground, and 
 with the shovel scraped out a hole under it, gathered 
 some pine branches with their dried needles from the 
 trunks of the surrounding trees, threw on them some 
 larger dry sticks, and soon had the fire started, and 
 on it an old tin coffee can filled with water from the 
 creek. The soap and a much-used and dingy towel 
 were fished out of the " alfallcases " (the big box-like.
 
 8 YELLOW PINS BASIN 
 
 rawhide pockets that hang on either side from the 
 crosses of the pack-saddles), a convenience for the 
 stowing away of all smaller articles, and at night, at 
 one s head, a wind-break. Going to the creek, old Zeb 
 washed his face and hands, and from the pocket of his 
 woollen shirt took a bit of bone with a few straggling, 
 uneven teeth, in their solitude but a remainder of what 
 had been a comb, drew it through his gray hair, and 
 muttered to himself : " Dang d if we hain t struck it. 
 I may see the States again, and Jane Oh, you cussed 
 old fool! and Jane My God! and Jane. I ll go 
 unbeknown and hang around till I see her. It s been a 
 hard pull, but, thank God, she nor hers hain t wanted 
 bread, any way." 
 
 On the old man s rugged features played the last 
 rays of the setting sun ; weather-beaten with the storms 
 and wear of forty years of border life, seamed and 
 scarred by steel and lead was the canvas on which a 
 something mind, heart, soul, spirit the inner self, 
 with master brush painted out the ravages of time, 
 the scars of conflicts, the marks and blemishes of 
 hardships, leaving on the worn face something of 
 peace and quiet and beauty that would have made one 
 wonder at the transformation. 
 
 Down behind the mountains sank the great kindly 
 sun; back into their old shapes went wrinkles and 
 scars; into the locked cabinet of the old man s heart 
 went the vanished picture, " God bless her." 
 
 "You are the dangd st old fool, Zeb!" and with 
 that Zeb went back to his fire. 
 
 It may be that there exists in the heart of every 
 one a desire for companionship, or it may be merely 
 that the sound of a human voice, if it is only one s
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 9 
 
 own, is a need of human life. "Whatever may be the 
 cause, men who are much alone are given to talking 
 to themselves. Not only in civilized, but also in sav 
 age man is this a habit, generic in the species ; solitude 
 develops and brings out this innate tendency. 
 
 Busying himself cutting slices of bacon, making the 
 bread, putting the coffee in the boiling water of the 
 old can that rested on a bed of coals before the fire, 
 its sides worn and blackened from the wear and soot 
 of open-air cooking, the primitive meal was prepared, 
 with many a varied oath and curse on the fire, that 
 one minute sent its smoke one way, and another to a 
 different quarter. 
 
 " Twill storm soon, and I ll bet this is a snowy 
 country. Dang it, if we ain t struck it, and mightly 
 slick it comes, too. You ll be on your feet agin, Zeb; 
 we ll make a ingineer of him ; Jane had a head, and 
 her boys are smart, I ll bet ye." 
 
 So with vivid blasphemy at the fire and his cooking, 
 and with his kind old heart planning what good things 
 in the future he saw before him, or thought he saw 
 (for to men of his kind belief is as a mathematical 
 demonstration), would bring to those he loved, the 
 preparation of the meal proceeded. 
 
 " I ll know she has silks, and diamonds too, afore I 
 die; and the little girl that has music in her, she shall 
 have a melodeon, and a pianny too, by gum! And I ll 
 lift the morgige on Jim Peasley s farm, for the let 
 ters he has wrote me, and how he s been good friend 
 to me, and how slick he s managed it all, and she sus- 
 picioning nothing Dang the blamed fire! " as a coal 
 fell in the coffee and a gust of smoke filled his eyes 
 " And me? " as the incident of the coal passed from
 
 10 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 his mind, " and me ? Well, there ain t nothing for me 
 only to know she s peart and comfortable." 
 
 " Why, Uncle Zeb, supper all ready ! The horses 
 are all right, in good grass, about a mile up the 
 creek; " and with this announcement Bud drew up to 
 the fire. 
 
 Is old Bally quiet, or is he a-running around, 
 throwing up his head and acting oneasy ? 
 
 11 Oh, no; he is feeding quietly with all the rest." 
 
 "I m glad of that, Bud, for the fire says storm; but 
 I ll put old Bally agin any fire for sensing the 
 weather. 
 
 The bread was turned from the frying-pan in which 
 it had been baked to a canvas pack-cover; the other 
 frying-pan, with the bacon still sizzling, was drawn 
 up ; the coffee was poured out, and the two sat down 
 to the evening meal. 
 
 " I ll say this for you, Zeb, I never saw such good 
 bread as you make," as, sopping pieces of it in the 
 frying-pan, Bud made the bacon grease take the 
 place of butter. 
 
 11 Oh, that ain t nothing; I kin do right smart with 
 sour dough, but this yer baking powder, I hain t no 
 great conceit of it. Bout the making of it, all there 
 is, is the stirring; ye mustn t stir too much or too 
 little. I ll tell ye something, Bud, I hain t told no 
 man. I used to make the doggondest bread ye ever 
 see when this yer baking powder first come ; couldn t 
 seem to git no savey of it. One night I was camped 
 in the Big Horn country and was a-goin to make bread. 
 I put in the flour and the salt and a handful of bak 
 ing powder, and the water, and twas the singularest 
 thing there come into my mind old Mis Yerrence;
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 11 
 
 hadn t thought of her for years. Me and her boy Bill 
 Yerrence was thick when we was young, and I uster 
 go to her house, and I d see her stirring up something , 
 and she was always a-singing, and always the same 
 thing. She didn t know but two lines, and she d sing 
 em over and over, and when I put my knife in to 
 stir up that baking of bread, I began singing to my 
 self her old song: 
 
 " I would not live alway, 
 I care not to stay ; 
 
 and then again: 
 
 " I would not live alway 
 I care not to stay. 
 
 Just twice I sang them lines, and sort of flopped my 
 knife when I come to stay and alway, and with 
 that I stopped stirring. I was surprised; that was as 
 fine bread as I ever eat; wouldn t choose no better. I 
 tried it agin, twas the same, and sence then when I 
 stir the baking-powder bread I say them words ; twice 
 I say em, Bud ; ye want to make long stir at alway 
 and agin at stay and yer all right. I suppose 
 there must be lots more of the song, but I never 
 heered only them two lines. Tain t no matter, them 
 two s all that s any good ; curous, ain t it ? You try 
 it and you ll find them words naterally strike the gait 
 to stir bread on. I like ye, Bud ; yer a boy and ye 
 hain t got much sense, but twill come; and I kin tell 
 ye had good bringing up, and a good mother; I kin 
 tell it." 
 
 As the color came in the young man s face, old Zeb 
 put his hand on his arm, saying: " Now, don t tell me 
 nothing; I ain t asking nothing; I don t want to know
 
 12 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 nothing. I bet ye never stole, nor didn t act squar 
 with a woman. Ye never drew gun when ye hadn t 
 cause, an if ye did pull trigger in fair fight, tain t in 
 me to think the worse of ye, boy. We re pardners, 
 and the more I think of it, Bud, I know we ll get it 
 rich on bed-rock. I tell ye that she-bear and them 
 cubs didn t come our way for nothing, and I see the 
 colors in the pan was chunky. Why, if twas only a 
 foot bove bed-rock it s as good a prospect as I ever 
 see out of Californy and Confederate Gulch and Wil 
 liams Crick." 
 
 The dishes belonging to their homely out-door 
 kitchen were soused with hot water and turned on edge 
 to dry. By the light from dry branches thrown on 
 the fire, the blankets were spread on as level a spot as 
 the vicinity afforded; the " alfallcases " were placed 
 at the head of the bed, and all house-keeping affairs for 
 the day were over. 
 
 Responsive to the throwing on of other dry branches, 
 the fire gave out its cheery light, its grateful heat, and, 
 more than that, the peculiar fascination of the camp 
 fire itself. There is heat, there is light, in a camp 
 fire, but that is not all; there is something else. An 
 emanation comes from a camp fire as potent, as much 
 a tangible entity, as a current of electricity, the one as 
 unseen as the other, both of them alike, both a some 
 thing equally unexplainable; they are because they are. 
 
 When after the meal is over, and the pipes are 
 lighted, and the fire burns up brightly, what mystic 
 spell some goddess of the fire conjures up to throw 
 upon those around, her subjects all ! 
 
 The brawler and the desperado under its gentle in 
 fluence are quiet ; the peevish man, if such there be,
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 13 
 
 forgets his little ills ; the trials and the dangers of the 
 time, the fears for the future, all are softened. It has 
 assuaged defeat, it has mollified exultant victors. The 
 thirst of a dry camp in Arizona, an Idaho snow-storm, 
 the cold of Montana and Dakota yield to the charm 
 of the fire. 
 
 There comes over all within the circle of its rays a 
 softening ; the doors of the past fly open, even those 
 of the burglar-proof vaults that lock into their secure 
 recesses the precious, the dangerous, the humiliating 
 secrets of human hearts; turn on hinges often rusty 
 and creaking from disuse. The man is a child again ; 
 his mother s hand rests on his head; his father s voice 
 rings in his ears ; his boyhood s joys, his young man 
 hood s hopes and aspirations, the failures, the loves, the 
 hates all the life he has passed, goes through his 
 mind. 
 
 The witchery of the camp fire, by some law of 
 magic, has power only over the past. The future, 
 with all its entrancing prospects, its unexplored lands 
 of promise girt round with the mountains of doubt 
 and uncertainty, it leaves to darkness or to sunlight. 
 By firelight, under open skies only, has it full sway 
 and rule. 
 
 There is something of this before a fireplace within 
 walls, but it is not there that we come so completely 
 under the dominion of the fire queen. The very 
 throne itself has great pines, or modest mesquite, or 
 lowly sage brush for its walls, and all of heaven for 
 its ceiling, either in the balmy air of summer evening 
 or in storm and wintry blast; not hemmed in by the 
 works of man, but in open air holds the witch queen 
 her court.
 
 14 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 No voice breaks the silence about the fire; with 
 monotonous regularity the smoke from the pipes puff 
 out. Our two wanderers in this perfect human silence 
 paid homage to the influence, as did, when the race was 
 young, Assyrian tent-dweller and Chaldean shepherd. 
 
 "It s time to turn in, Zeb," at last said Bud. 
 Again he said: " Bed-time, Zeb." 
 
 " Yes, Bud," as the old man knocked the ashes from 
 his pipe, I was a-thinking, Bud ; I was a- think 
 ing." 
 
 The fire was drawn together; the long, deep draught 
 of water, the mountain man s nightcap, drunk; the 
 boots drawn off and put down at the head of the bed 
 as a foundation for a pillow, the superstructure of 
 which was such odds and ends of raiment as coats and 
 overalls, and down lay the partners. 
 
 " What s come to me ? We didn t pile the saddles. 
 
 " It won t storm, Zeb," reassuringly says Bud. 
 
 " No, it won t rain, but tain t no way to camp. 
 By gum, I ve forgot my gun! I hain t been so off in 
 forty years. I was thinking, Bud," and up got old 
 Zeb, and in frontier fashion took his gun, looked it 
 over, saw that a cartridge was in the chamber and the 
 barrel clear, and lay down with it at his side. 
 
 "Do you think we had better put down a hole 
 where we got the prospect, or sink one higher up? " 
 
 "I ll give the ground a keerful look in the morning 
 and we ll see. Yank uster say I had the best sense in 
 getting a place to sink a hole of any man he ever see. 
 It may be pretty deep to bed-rock." 
 
 "I don t care if it s a mile," said Bud, "we will 
 get there." 
 
 " You bet, my boy, we ll get there, and we ll get it
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 15 
 
 rich. I tell ye signs is for it." And with that old 
 Zeb dropped into silence, and from silence into sleep. 
 
 Thinking over the events of the day, and speculating 
 on what the future might bring forth, the young man s 
 thoughts kept him longer awake; but soon the healthy 
 animal in him conquered, and he added his deep breath 
 ing to old Zeb s sonorous snore. 
 
 As the bird flies, in any direction it was sixty miles to 
 any being of their kind ; over a hundred to any dwell 
 ing, even to any cabin; yet in peace and quiet slept 
 these men quiet unbroken, save by the screeching of 
 an owl, the distant cries of wolf or cougar, and at 
 times the faint tinkling of a bell up the gulch, as the 
 mare who bore it moved her head in feeding.
 
 CHAPTEE II 
 
 IN the heart of a country perhaps to this day as 
 inaccessible as any in our great "West are the head 
 waters of the Salmon, the Payette, and the Boise, 
 with their many forks. The beginning of these 
 streams, following the low lines in the tortuous moun 
 tain ranges which radiate from what seems almost a 
 common centre, run in all directions; they pass each 
 other, they run around each other. A spring near a 
 mountain peak sends forth its trickling stream, other 
 lower springs add to it, it becomes a rippling thread 
 of water, it grows into a tumbling creek; distance 
 increases its volume ; it has gotten to be a fork. On 
 it rushes till it is a river, then a larger one ; and other 
 rivers, born of other mountain springs, join it. On it 
 goes, ever increasing, until, whether it be Salmon or 
 Payette or Boise, it makes union with the Snake, and 
 then with stately flow pours itself into the mighty 
 Columbia, and the drop that left the little spring on 
 some Idaho mountain may moisten the sands of far 
 Cathay. 
 
 On one of the forks of the Salmon, up a creek, lies 
 Yellow Pine Basin. As altitude goes, it is low 
 enough for the great yellow pine to lift its lofty head 
 and thrive, while high enough for the black pines on 
 the more elevated ground about it. Wherever your 
 eyes turn, a great wall of mountains ridge the basin ;
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 17 
 
 creeks flow among the low hills and through the grassy 
 flats, but on all sides is the great rim of lofty hills. 
 The river canons through it, but its winding course 
 shuts one off from seeing far, and all seems impenetra 
 ble mountain side. 
 
 At the time of which I am writing, the Indian trou 
 bles of 1876 to 1879 were over, and Bannocks, Sho- 
 shones, Sheep-eaters, etc., were closely confined to 
 their various reservations. Idaho had for nearly 
 twenty years been a " gold country," and prospectors 
 had run through it. Attracted by its reputation, the 
 older of the two sleeping men had started early in the 
 spring from the Arizona country for a prospecting 
 trip to the north, to include a portion of western 
 Montana and central Idaho. 
 
 Camping one night near the great Tetons in Mon 
 tana, a young fellow came up and made camp along 
 side. Quite naturally, he strolled over to old Zeb s 
 camp; a mutual liking sprung up, and, as the young 
 fellow evidently had no particular line of wandering 
 planned out, their issues were joined, and both started 
 next morning to explore a country which, from the 
 tale of some old comrade, who had been in it in 63 and 
 64, old Zeb had set his mind on looking into. The 
 two or three months previous had been spent in cross 
 ing into Idaho, prospecting along the main Salmon, 
 giving Stanley Basin and the creeks on both sides an 
 examination. They sunk numberless holes to bed 
 rock, others until the water drove them out, finding 
 gold here and there, but nowhere enough to pay for 
 the working in the rude way they must perforce 
 work. 
 
 Further acquaintance had begotten increased respect 
 2
 
 18 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 for each other. The simple, good-natured old moun 
 taineer had found in the youth and comparative inex 
 perience of the young man a pleasing companion ; a 
 ready imbiber of such practical knowledge of prospect 
 ing and general campaigning as a long life of wander 
 ing had made him master of. He had taught him to 
 pack till he could throw the diamond hitch as well as 
 any one, and the squaw hitch he was perfect in, both 
 of these accepted means of fastening the packs tightly 
 upon the pack animals. The thousand and one little 
 matters of horse care and camping, of making way 
 through a country without trail, of camp cooking, of 
 the proper place to dig a hole for getting a prospect, 
 of the panning out of the prospect, of the carriage and 
 use of the Winchester, the location of a camp and 
 feeding ground for the horses, how to picket horses by 
 the neck or leg in all of these Bud was a quick 
 learner ; and the aptness of the pupil was most gratify 
 ing to the teacher, while the mystery of how one so 
 unused to and inexperienced in the simplest matters of 
 such a life could have been picked up by him in the 
 wilderness, seemed to increase an interest other than 
 that produced by the young fellow s hearty, manly 
 ways. But however much he wondered at it, and 
 even how much curiosity he may have felt as to his 
 past, no thought of inquiry into it ever came to Zeb ; 
 if it had, he would have dismissed it as a most un 
 worthy idea. 
 
 Whatever he was or might have been, "Bud," for 
 so on the first evening of their acquaintance he had 
 said "they might call me," had taken a measure of 
 the old pioneer, for old Zeb was as clean cut as a 
 shell cameo, and like one built up of many layers, and
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 1 
 
 must have seemed to one unused to men of his kind a 
 revelation. 
 
 Learning, culture, art, fashion, the force of public 
 opinon take a boy and leave him a man. They may 
 make him a man of knowledge, of affairs ; they round 
 the rough points; they soften the harsh outlines; and 
 within the limits of talent, of genius, of sound sense, 
 of patriotic feeling, of generosity, of honesty ; and of 
 ignorance, of stupidity, of folly, of baseness, of ava 
 rice, of cupidity, a man is produced ; one to outward 
 seeming very like another, and the philanthropist 
 and the villain are as like as peas in a pod to the cas 
 ual observer. The absence of learning and culture, 
 art, fashion, and sway of that public opinion which is 
 largely but the creation of these, leaves nature to 
 work out its laws, and the boy grows into the man, 
 and the man lives as does a forest tree. You see an 
 evergreen growing on its native hillside; you see the 
 same evergreen in a hedge cut and trimmed and fash 
 ioned. We have different tastes: to some the wild 
 tree seems the more interesting object of the two ; to 
 others, doubtless, the hedge with its uniform cut is 
 more pleasing. But perhaps Bud had seen many 
 hedges and few wild evergreens. At any rate there 
 was something in the old man that attracted and in 
 terested him. 
 
 The two had come upon Yellow Pine Basin in their 
 wanderings, camped, and with pan and pick and shovel 
 had gone along a little creek and sunk the hole where 
 we first found them. 
 
 As early morning broke, they arose, and, fortified 
 by more bread and bacon and coffee, went down the 
 creek, when, after proper weighing of the surface in-
 
 20 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 dications, the old man selected the spot, and they both 
 set to work to dig a hole, with the intention of sinking 
 through the ground and finding solid bed-rock where 
 grains of gold should be heaviest and most numerous. 
 
 With pick and shovel, spelling each other at the 
 work, their sinewy arms, in motion until dark, threw 
 out big rocks and little ones, sand and earth; every 
 hour or two filling the gold-pan with the gravel, 
 which one or the other would pan ; the result of each 
 such operation, by increasing the richness of the pros 
 pect, confirming the value of the find. 
 
 There was little talk, for the veriest tyro knows 
 there is no luck in talking over much in a prospect 
 hole. When dark came they had not reached bed-rock, 
 and the water in the hole began to be troublesome. 
 
 The next day, as they were getting too deep for a 
 man to easily throw out the dirt, they widened the 
 mouth of the hole for a few feet down, and thus 
 formed a kind of shelf, up to which one man could 
 shovel, and then the other might throw to the top of 
 the ground ; besides, in bailing out the water with the 
 gold-pan, this shelf allowed a full pan to be lifted 
 from one to the other and then emptied. This took 
 time, and the water was increasing, so that only two 
 feet in depth was made that day. As the two went 
 to camp, Zeb broke out: 
 
 "I suspicion we ain t going to get bed-rock this 
 way; two foot or so will let us out." 
 
 " We can t give it up so, Zeb ; we must find bed-rock 
 with such a prospect." 
 
 " Did ye say give her up, Bud? " said the old man 
 in surprise and with no little indignation. "I never 
 yet started on such a prospect but I made the bed-rock ;
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 21 
 
 I ll go to Chiny, but I ll get it. I kinder suspicion, 
 though, we ve got to tackle her in shape and run a cut 
 to drain the hole. It s a long pull, though, to get the 
 grade. I wish to the Lord twas June stead of Sep 
 tember, and nigh the last, too. This is a cussed coun 
 try for snow, I know. I see the snow mark on the 
 cottonwoods and she falls deep, and I am a-feered she 
 falls early. " 
 
 11 Yes, this is the 28th, Zeb, or thereabouts. Let s 
 see; we were at Stanley on the 19th, for I asked the 
 day. Sunday, the 19th ; we camped at the Rawhide 
 that night, Cape Horn the next night, into Bear Val 
 ley next day, that would be the 21st; Sulphur Creek 
 next day, that was the 22d; we were there three 
 nights, making it the 24th, and, you remember, I said 
 when we came here, this makes three days from Sul 
 phur Creek, so that was the 27th. Why, Zeb, this is 
 the 30th, but it s only September." 
 
 " Yes, I know, Bud, it s only September, but ye 
 don t know these mountains. "Why, I ve seen three 
 foot of snow in September, and lost every hoof I had 
 before November, the snow come so fast and so deep. 
 But I don t fear no such thing now, the ground squir 
 rels holed too late. But there s work into winter, 
 and ye ve got to settle it right now. Stay or get out, 
 Bud. If ye wants to go, Bud, ye had better go soon, 
 taint no country to trust too much after this. I m 
 going to camp here for the winter, if so be we don t 
 get bed-rock before. 
 
 " Now, Zeb, don t talk that way. I want to stay 
 with you. I am going to stay right here with you. 
 Since I met you in Montana and we agreed to go to 
 gether, three months ago nearly, we ve gone over a
 
 22 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 great deal of country and have found nothing good 
 before. I want to see what this is; besides, I have 
 come to like you, Zeb, and if you are willing, I want 
 to stay with you and put this thing through." 
 
 " Yer a good boy, Bud. I wants no better pard- 
 ner, I ll say that; but yer young, and young men has 
 idees of wintering where folks cares for them and 
 where they care for folks." 
 
 "I tell you, Zeb, no one cares where I winter or 
 summer either, and I don t well, it s all the same to 
 me." 
 
 " Bud, there s my hand on it. "We ll get bed-rock 
 in two days if we can, but we ll get it if it takes all 
 winter. We can run the cut if we do have to shovel 
 snow every morning, though snow don t drift here as 
 it does in a rolling country." 
 
 Their hands were joined, thus signing and sealing 
 the agreement. Parchment is covered with legal 
 phrase, signatures of contracting parties are affixed and 
 red seals put on to emphasize the act ; witnesses attest 
 the signing, officers of the law take acknowledgment 
 of it, and in huge volumes of the record is a copy 
 made ; but two honest hands joined in simple fashion, 
 after simple word, make a bond of steel when often 
 the other is but straw. 
 
 That night these two talked it all over. 
 
 " There ain t no use talking bout getting in grub. 
 I ve got a silver dollar and a four-bit piece, and I 
 know yer light in the sack, Bud. We ain t in no 
 shape to get out a grub stake, and twould take two 
 weeks or three to go out and pack in grub if we had 
 all the money in the world. We can t spare the time. 
 What a dang d lucky thing it was that I loaded old
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 23 
 
 Bally at Sawtooth. There s nothing like having plenty 
 of grub. When a man s got his gun and his animals 
 and his grub and his tools, he s fixed in any country." 
 An inventory of their joint stock was taken. There 
 were three fifty-pound sacks of flour and part of an 
 other. They "hefted" the bacon and judged there 
 was about thirty pounds of it; three tins of baking 
 powder, ten unbroken packages of coffee and more; 
 and, as Zeb said, " the bones of the whole business," 
 two ten-pound sacks of salt. So much for the com 
 missariat. Besides this, they had three picks, two 
 shovels, two gold-pans, an axe, and another smaller 
 one ; two Winchesters, with cartridges and three hun 
 dred rounds of forty-five-seventy ammunition ; part 
 of a bottle of Mustang liniment, thirteen and a half 
 plugs of tobacco, seventeen cartridges of giant pow 
 der, a few five-eighth-inch drills, and a striking ham 
 mer; fifty feet of fuse, a box of giant-powder caps, 
 two candles, pieces of soap, and a few packages of 
 matches ; three canvas pack-covers, three pack-saddles, 
 two riding-saddles, with bridles and blankets, and 
 swing and cinch and picket ropes. Of individual 
 property, Zeb had an old Testament (much worn as to 
 the binding, but spick and spank within, wrapped in a 
 piece of buckskin) ; a buckskin sack with the contents 
 unknown save to himself. Each had woollen outer and 
 inner shirts and drawers, and China handkerchiefs, 
 and socks, besides what they had on; sewing-bags, 
 with needles and black linen thread and beeswax 
 and such like trifles; boots, rubber and leather, and 
 each a warm coat. Of course there were hunting- 
 knives and a horse-shoeing outiit, and then there was 
 the cooking outfit two frying-pans, an old coffee can.
 
 24 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 an empty ten-pound lard can, two steel forks and one 
 knife, another one having been carelessly left at some 
 camping place, three tin plates, and an iron Dutch oven. 
 
 Of course Zeb had a dollar and a half and Bud a 
 quarter of a dollar; but, as Zeb remarked, "That s 
 more nor we can spend, and a man can t be no richer 
 than that." 
 
 After talking it all over, these things were to be 
 done, Zeb, from his experience, announcing them in 
 order: The cut was to be run, and that so as to drain 
 the water fifteen feet deeper than the present bottom 
 of their hole, now dignified by the appellation of 
 shaft. Other things were to be done accessory to the 
 main thing, but none the less necessary, and they in 
 volved time in the doing. There was a cabin to be 
 built, a supply of meat was to be put in before the elk 
 and deer left the country for the winter, for until the 
 far-away spring came, they must live mainly on meat, 
 fresh, salted, and jerked. The horses, too, were also 
 to be taken to some lower country where they could 
 winter; they judged a fit place for them could be 
 found forty miles or so down the Salmon, where they 
 could turn out the animals and find them fat and 
 strong in the spring, but they need not go there with 
 them until the storms began, so that was off their 
 minds, for a time at least. 
 
 " I will go with a couple of packs, Zeb. Yes, I ll 
 go to-morrow night to the big lick we saw. It can t 
 be ten miles from here, and I ll get the venison we 
 want." 
 
 "That ain t no go, Bud; deer don t go to licks 
 this time o year; when the browse and weeds are 
 green and full of juice, a deer hankers after something
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 35 
 
 salt; when they get old and dry he don t want none. 
 You might stand in that lick from now to Christmas 
 and ye wouldn t see a deer. The bucks have come 
 down from the high rocks where they have been 
 a-laying in the sun a-drying their horns, and are a-run- 
 ning. Now, or a few days before storm, they will be in 
 the low hills, kinder oneasy ; one eye out for browse, 
 the other on the weather, and both on em. on the 
 does. Come a little snow, and out they put, bucks, 
 does, and fawns. T won t be no trick to get plenty up 
 the crick or on the low hills ; elk sign is all round, too. 
 I heered a bull call nearby." 
 
 It was decided to first lay out the "cut," this 
 meaning a trench, the bottom of which should leave 
 the surface of the ground far enough below the hole 
 they were digging to drain the water from it fifteen 
 feet below its then depth, for, on examination, they 
 found this was as deep as they could drain the hole or 
 shaft, on the grade necessary, without making too 
 long a cut ; and, even as it was to be, it made a long 
 cut, and much labor would be required to complete it. 
 
 The first thing was to make sure of the meat, so 
 the next morning, after having, in a rough way, 
 surveyed the line of the cut and located where to be 
 gin, Bud went to work on it, and Zeb, with his Win 
 chester and long hunting-knife, went after deer. It 
 had been a frosty night. The laying out of the course 
 of the cut had taken time, so the sun was high when 
 the hunt besran.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE hunting of game resolves itself under three 
 heads: hunting for pleasure, hunting for profit, and 
 hunting for both pleasure and profit combined. 
 
 I question if a true sportsman ever went forth to 
 kill so inoffensive and harmless an animal as a deer, a 
 creature whose very size makes strong protest against 
 its wanton destruction, without some such feeling as 
 this: " The venison I hope to get will be of use to my 
 friends or to myself ; it will not be wasted ; and saying 
 to himself: " I will kill a deer because I have use for 
 it." 
 
 The man who goes out to kill deer for the mere 
 pleasure of seeing them drop, leaving their carcasses 
 to rot where they fall, lacks in every fibre of his being 
 the sportsman s soul. He is not of that ancient and 
 honorable guild; he is a butcher, plain and simple, 
 despised by all true followers of gentle and manly 
 woodcraft. 
 
 The hunter for profit, truly his way of life is not 
 what we or he would wish; but nevertheless he may 
 have the instincts, as he has in some degree the pleas 
 ures, of a sportsman. 
 
 Many years ago I camped one night near a party, 
 an Englishman a nobleman his guides, and among 
 them one we will call him Jim Stevens a hunter, 
 who killed deer and elk, and sold the meat; a pot-
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 27 
 
 hunter, as men call them. In the morning we all rode 
 on a bit together. The Englishman told me with 
 great glee that he had killed nine elk the previous day, 
 leaving them, all but one, where they died. As we 
 rode on, Jim Stevens came alongside, and, when we 
 were somewhat by ourselves, the rough, rude plains 
 man said to me : It s awful to kill an elk and leave 
 him to rot. I m sick of it. I am going to quit this 
 outfit." And I thought, as my eyes rested on this 
 lordly butcher, You may be a peer of England, but 
 you are not the peer of Jim Stevens. 
 
 But the hunter who goes forth to hunt, justified in 
 his own mind because there is a use to be made of the 
 game he may kill, into what paths of noble pleasure 
 does he not stray ? Here does eye and brain, hand 
 and heart work together. It is being a man ; all his 
 faculties come into play his reason, his craft, his pa 
 tience, his steadiness of nerve, while, at the same time, 
 in some degree, all the physical powers are exercised. 
 This man feels his God-given dominion over the 
 beasts of the field. 
 
 With springy step and brightened eye, for he is 
 going a-hunting, Zeb went up the creek. Low foot 
 hills came down to the little valley and rose back to 
 lofty mountains, and with the knowledge born of ex 
 perience the hunter turned up into the hills. Soon a 
 doe scampered past him, startled by his movements; 
 but no good man would kill a doe if there was a fair 
 chance to get a buck, and so she bounded away un 
 scathed. At last he took his ground on a hillside 
 with willows at the bottom, and scattered pines here 
 and there over it, through which the autumn sun 
 found spots of bare earth to brighten. Near a large
 
 28 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 tree he sat down as motionless as its trunk, his rifle 
 where he could quietly and quickly raise it for a sight. 
 He might have been there ten minutes when a rustling 
 of the underbrush was heard, and within forty yards 
 of him came out a four-point buck, fat and sleek. 
 Unconscious of his surroundings, he stopped in a 
 sunny spot and began the antics of the buck dance. 
 He jumped up, and gathering his feet well under him, 
 struck the ground with all four at once; he lowered 
 his head and made feints and passes with his horns 
 at a neighboring tree, perhaps practising for combat 
 with some rival who, to his jealous mind, seemed too 
 ardent in his attentions to mutual acquaintances 
 among the does ; or perhaps he was getting the most of 
 the play in the warm sunlight that his instinct told 
 him would go into clouds, and they into storm, when it 
 would be cold, cheerless work to get a living until 
 spring and sun came again. 
 
 Zeb watched him with interest, as who has not done 
 when he has caught a buck when he thinks himself 
 so much alone that he can make a fool of himself to 
 his heart s content. "What pranks and capers does his 
 seeming privacy give occasion to ! 
 
 The man he saw, but he was as the trees, motionless, 
 and he had no more fear of him than of them. At last 
 Zeb thought of the meat that must be had, and with a 
 sharp whistle he raised his Winchester, and as the 
 buck threw up his head, put the bullet through his 
 brain. In a minute he was on him with his knife ; the 
 knife went to the right place in his neck, and death 
 came quickly. Over a dry log he threw the body 
 and prepared it for packing to camp, separating the 
 sides with a stick between them. Leaving the veni-
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 29 
 
 son he went after other bucks. One he killed on the 
 run ; and a pretty shot it was, for the buck was in the 
 timber thirty rods or so away and running bohind in 
 tervening trees. Quickly measuring the distance with 
 his eye, and gauging how high above the ground his 
 heart would be when he came out from behind a cer 
 tain big tree, he took aim and pulled trigger when he 
 could first see his horns, and bullet and heart met 
 when the buck s body appeared, though the target 
 was hidden when he fired. A man who has made that 
 shot knows how Zeb felt. 
 
 I suppose as things go in this world the Czar of 
 Russia has power and wealth and would himself con 
 fess to being in a most comfortable situation, so far 
 as place goes. The Presidency of these United States 
 is a position of honor, of power, of some financial 
 value; a grand recompense for praiseworthy ambi 
 tion. The Rothschilds the total of the Rothschilds I 
 mean are rich in silver and gold, and wield the power 
 such baubles bring in this commercial age; but there 
 are brief moments in a man s life when Czar and Pres 
 ident, even the money kings, are of the common herd ; 
 they are not envied; they beget not even the most 
 languid interest in themselves or their surroundings, 
 one feels so much above them all. So Zeb felt as he 
 went up to that buck, and so, I presume, felt some 
 other man or men, ages ago, when Alexander, Cyrus, 
 or Croesus stood for power, position, wealth, and 
 all that seemed fullest of the great and the good 
 things in life. 
 
 To those who have never made the shot, or whose 
 interest in the hunt is dead, or who never felt the 
 promptings for the chase, I can say it was a good
 
 30 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 shot, a grand shot ; one a man tries many times before 
 he makes it at all, and is never so sure of making that 
 his heart doesn t swell when he does make it. 
 
 Other bucks were killed, and so near the camp were 
 they all, that before dark six fine deer were hanging 
 on the trees back of it. 
 
 Bud had made fair headway at his work, and 
 nearly enough meat was in hand. They would get 
 more from time to time before the great storms came. 
 A cabin was to be built, and the fine weather ought 
 to be taken advantage of, so that evening it was 
 decided that the young man should cut suitable 
 trees next day for house logs, and Zeb, having been 
 "a-playing all day," as he said, would turn in and 
 make dirt fly on that "yer cut." When the logs 
 were cut, and snaked by old Bally to their place, 
 both would work together and build the cabin and 
 fireplace, and put the roof on. 
 
 In a few days the logs were ready on the site 
 selected, the venison was in process of jerking, and the 
 cut had made a most satisfactory progress. 
 
 Hard toil brought good appetites and long sleep, so 
 that after work, bread, venison, and coffee, and a smoke 
 brought them to bed-time. 
 
 The weather was all that could be desired, so they 
 felt reasonably sure of having a roof over them before 
 the snow began. 
 
 A cabin sixteen feet by eighteen feet had been de 
 cided on, and when the logs were all on the ground, 
 they set themselves to build it. The logs were 
 notched, and set into each other at the corners, not 
 to leave too wide a space between them to be filled 
 with the chinking. With rock and mud a fireplace
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 31 
 
 was built, with a good chimney of the same ma 
 terials. 
 
 They split shakes for the roof, finding a tree to 
 make them of so straight grained that the shakes split 
 from it were almost as true as if they had been sawed, 
 and made a roof as good as one of shingles. Having 
 no nails, they were forced to pin them to the rafters 
 with little wooden pegs, but that would do for a time 
 well enough. 
 
 A canvas pack-cover made a door, or rather stopped 
 up the door-hole, and another served in the same way 
 for a window ; for the floor, the ground was shorn of 
 the sod and the dirt packed down ; frequent sprink 
 ling with water would make it smooth and hard. 
 The cracks between the logs were chinked with pieces 
 of wood rudely cut to fill them and then plastered 
 over with mud. 
 
 Not a nail had "been used, for they had none to use, 
 and the only tool was an axe ; but when it was done, 
 it was comfortable. True, the door and the window, 
 with the canvas coverings, were not impervious to the 
 wind, but most of it was kept out. Such a house is 
 not to be thought lightly of ; it has its good points, 
 and I doubt if the combined skill of the architectural 
 designers could devise a more healthy, wholesome, 
 house than a log cabin with a good roof and fireplace 
 and a dirt floor; of course the floor must be high 
 enough to have the dampness drain away from it. 
 With this, and the house so constructed as to keep out 
 the rain and snow, it can hold its own against any 
 known form of habitation, so far as simple comfort 
 and health go. 
 
 Then it was thought a meat-house to store the meat
 
 32 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 and other stores in would be a good thing to have, and 
 so in a day s time this was built a little distance away. 
 
 Another day and some evenings after that it took to 
 build a bunk for each, and out of poles and deer hides 
 with the hair on to make two chairs. 
 
 " Tain t like we ll have company," said Zeb. 
 
 In this building and fitting up Bud appeared to 
 great advantage. He could handle an axe very 
 deftly, and as that was all there was to work with, 
 his handiness came into good play. Zeb was never 
 tired of commenting on his skill. 
 
 " Did ye learn the carpentering trade? " he asked 
 him, as he had just finished a chair. " I never see a 
 better chair nor this." 
 
 11 It ought to be a good chair, Zeb, for I ve made it 
 for you, and you ought to have a good chair; but I 
 never had an axe in my hand until two weeks before 
 I saw you." 
 
 " What s that ye say, Bud? Never had an axe in 
 yer hand ? Why, where were ye raised ? Didn t ye 
 have ter cut fire- wood? All boys has." 
 
 " I was born and raised in New York, and there s 
 no fire- wood there to cut ; at any rate, I never cut any 
 of it." 
 
 "Well, that s a fine chair, and I thanks ye, Bud. 
 I ll sit in it this winter and smoke and tell yarns. 
 Some men can live without talking, but it ain t me. 
 I d like to hear bout New York, and you kin give 
 me the lay of it. We ll be dang comfortable and 
 sociable here, you bet. Was it New York town ye 
 meant, Bud, or New York State? " 
 
 " Well, both, Zeb, for I was born and raised in New 
 York City, and that s in New York State, of course."
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 33 
 
 One night everything was finished, and the cut had 
 been worked on every day but three. Bud, who kept 
 the run of the days, said something about everything 
 being ready for Sunday. 
 
 Is to-morrow Sunday ? said Zeb. 
 
 "Yes, it will be Sunday; this is Saturday night," 
 Bud answered. 
 
 "Well, we ll keep Sunday; we won t work, we ll 
 wash up and lay around and obsarve the day. A man 
 should be pious once in a while; it does him good. 
 Lord, if my old mother could see me most Sundays, 
 a-working or a-travelling, how she would talk ! We 
 was all Baptists, and we was brought up that strict we 
 hated Sunday. I ll never feel I m right sure of salva 
 tion till I can get to hating Sundays agin. Now 
 they re like other days, I can t get up no real hate at 
 em. Tain t right, I know tain t right; somehow I 
 always have something to do on Sunday, if I know 
 when Sunday comes, and when a man is prospecting 
 it s dang hard to be pious. Still, tain t no great 
 thing, when you think of it, to knock off work on 
 every Sunday and to keep from cussing one day out of 
 seven, but it s onhandy, of course. Some men can do 
 it. There was Yank ; he never cussed on Sunday, never 
 worked on Sunday, never did nothing; twas his day 
 to wash up and go round camp. If there was a game, 
 and luck was agin him or with him, didn t make no 
 difference; ye d think he was a preacher, he took it all 
 so mild, and he was always a-shooting Bible texts out 
 of him all day long. Often I heard him say on Sun 
 day night: I ve done my duty by the day, and he d 
 feel so good and pious over it. 
 
 Sunday came, a beautiful day, and the clothes were 
 3
 
 34 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 washed and the baths taken, and, in honor of the 
 day, Zeb made a duff of deer suet and flour and sugar 
 that was considered a triumph, and they went down 
 the creek and fished, and looked at their work, and 
 speculated as to how long it would take them to finish 
 it. They aired their blankets, and cut dry grass for 
 their bunks, and had the sewing-bags out and mended 
 their clothes, and otherwise passed the day, as Zeb 
 said, like " church folks." 
 
 The frequent pannings of the gravel as they drove 
 in the cut were satisfactory, and they worked with 
 good heart. 
 
 It might have been two weeks after their coming to 
 Yellow Pine Basin when the weather, that up to that 
 time had been mild and pleasant, began to show signs 
 of a change. The horses, having appeased their hun 
 ger and recovered from the fatigues of the several 
 days travel before camp was made, had come up from 
 time to time, as horses will under such circumstances, 
 to lick whatever salt had been thrown out and to keep 
 up that intimacy with their owners which to the 
 equine mind of a prospector s animal seems the proper 
 thing. Old Bally, a sturdy old horse, who for ten 
 years or more had followed Zeb from Mexico to Brit 
 ish Columbia, and for whose general knowledge and 
 good horse sense his master had profound respect, 
 was the leader of the little band. It was evident that 
 something unusual was the matter with him. He 
 ran about uneasily, throwing back his head, coming up 
 to the cabin in the evening and during the night. 
 
 " We re going to have a storm, Bud. I kin tell by 
 the way old Bally acts; but he don t think twill be 
 very much or he would be a-pawing, and he don t
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 35 
 
 paw none," said Zeb one evening, and in the morning 
 there was a little snow on the ground, the first of the 
 late season. 
 
 This seemed to remind them of various things to do, 
 and one was to get more meat. Guided by the old 
 man s advice, Bud went out, and the glee with which 
 he brought in two deer while Zeb was getting supper 
 after his work, showed that it was a new experience 
 to him. 
 
 * I killed one of them with one shot and I shot the 
 other three times," he said. " See that, Zeb; right in 
 the heart; the other one I didn t get a good sight of, 
 but I brought him after a while. 
 
 " Yes, that s a pretty shot in the heart, but let me 
 tell ye, Bud, if ye can see the deer, the head s the 
 place to aim at. If ye hit the deer, it s pretty sure ye 
 kill him. If ye aim at the heart, it s a chance to hit 
 it, for a deer s heart is small, but ye ll probably crip 
 ple him and he ll go off somewhere and die. If ye 
 shoot at a deer and miss him, some other man may kill 
 him in a year or in five, but if ye cripple a deer, 
 don t do you nor nobody no good; it s waste, it s 
 waste." 
 
 "That s so, Zeb, that s so. I never thought of 
 that, but when I saw the deer, I fired at the heart, 
 because in all the books I ever read it was always 
 spoken of as the place to aim at; and I never killed 
 but one deer before, and that was just before we met 
 in Montana." 
 
 " Well, when a man s writing a book, it s well 
 enough; anything goes then, but it ain t right, for the 
 reason I tell ye. But them are fine deer, and you 
 put in a good day. Ye ll get sense, Bud, twill come.
 
 36 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 I never see a boy larn as you ve done. I did a piece 
 of work, too, beside that in the crick. I took the axe 
 and went up the hill a piece, and cut a snowshoe tree ; 
 she s a beauty, too, straight grained is no name for 
 it; and I split out enough for two pair." 
 
 " Snowshoe tree, Zeb ? I don t understand." 
 
 " Snow s a-coming soon, and we ve got to have some 
 shoes, and it s little enough time for the wood to 
 dry." 
 
 "Make snowshoes out of a log, do you, Zeb? I 
 don t know anything about them. 
 
 "Ye don t; might have known that. Yes, we 
 make em out of a log. Good fir s the best thing in 
 this country to make em of. We ll tote the sticks 
 down here and put em in the cabin where they ll 
 dry, and in the evenings we ll make the shoes. I 
 kinder thought, seeing ye are so dang handy with 
 an axe, I d ask ye to make em; it s slow work for 
 me." 
 
 "You tell me what you want and how to do it, 
 Zeb, and I ll try," said Bud. 
 
 In a day or two the snow went off, and though 
 slightly colder, it was fine weather again. 
 
 The two worked hard at their cut, which had now 
 begun to show the effects of two weeks labor. They 
 could still throw out the gravel, but as there would 
 soon come a time when the dirt would have to be 
 wheeled out, they had a wheelbarrow and wheeling 
 planks on which to run the barrow to make. To 
 make a wheelbarrow out of a standing tree with only 
 an axe and a pocket-knife, draws no little on one s 
 ingenuity, particularly when you haven t a bit of 
 iron, not even a nail, to make it with, and takes time.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 37 
 
 Wheeling planks are easier to make; you need only to 
 cut the logs and hew them down with the axe. For 
 tunately, among Zeb s effects was an old grindstone, 
 worn down until it was hardly a foot in diameter ; this, 
 lying under the pack-saddles, had been overlooked in 
 the inventory taken, and strangely, too, for it was a 
 much prized possession of the old man. A tree was 
 cut down, and a rough wheel hewed out, which was 
 to be finished some evening in the cabin, after it had 
 lain there long enough to dry a little, and the other 
 parts were roughly cut, to be fashioned and the whole 
 to be made during the evenings. The wheeling 
 planks, three of them, thirty feet long and about eight 
 inches wide, and three or four inches thick, were 
 hewed out so they might be drying and be less 
 heavy to carry about. But one man was always kept 
 at work in the cut. When both could work there, its 
 progress was so much more satisfactory that they 
 grudged any time spent away from it, but, of course, 
 these necessary things had to be done. As soon as it 
 was light the work begun, and only when it was too 
 dark to see did they quit it. 
 
 Zeb was one of those wiry, muscular men whose 
 vigor only extreme age seems to impair, and though 
 he was " Old Zeb " from the coast to the Rockies, he 
 was hardly sixty. Bud, though in the prime of 
 young manhood, and a powerful fellow too, perhaps 
 because hard labor might have been new to him, had 
 all he could do to keep pace with the old man s tire 
 less energy, and often went to bed fagged out, and 
 arose stiff and sore next morning; but he was getting 
 used to it, and made so good a hand that many were 
 the compliments he received, and together they did
 
 38 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 the work of five men, for their hearts were in it and 
 they wished to take advantage of the favoring 
 weather. For a day or two there had been signs of 
 storm both from Bally and the heavens, until one 
 night they went to bed with the expectation of seeing 
 the ground whitened again.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE storm came during the night, but by morning 
 the rifts in the clouds indicated clearing weather. 
 Only a few inches of snow had fallen when Zeb put 
 aside the canvas curtain and looked out. 
 
 " Let s go hunting, Bud; couldn t be no better time. 
 I see bear sign all round here, and a couple of good 
 skins would come mighty handy. They re prime 
 now." 
 
 " That would suit me. I never killed a bear, and 
 never saw a wild one, except those we saw that day. 
 That s a grand idea, Zeb; I d give anything to kill a 
 bear," and the young man jumped from his bed. 
 
 After breakfast the guns were examined, the car 
 tridge-belts replenished, and the knives whetted, Zeb 
 taking great pains with his long, two-edged, dagger- 
 like blade. 
 
 "When a man tackles a big bear, Bud," he said, 
 "if he s got sense, he s got a long knife, a sharp- 
 pointed one, too, and it must be where he kin lay his 
 hand on it. Bears is hard to kill, and less the ground 
 favors you, don t never shoot a grizzly less yer far 
 enough away to put in a couple more shots fore he 
 kin git at ye. Wound one of them fellers and he 
 comes for ye like a fool hen flies; black or brown or 
 baldliead ain t so bad. These yer Rocky Mountain 
 grizzlies ain t like them in the Sierris, but they re
 
 40 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 nasty. That s when ye want yer knife and want it 
 bad; when a bear s a-charging, less you can put a shot 
 in his brain, you can t faze him; when he downs his 
 head a little, and ye kin hit his eye and are spry 
 enough to jump one side, ye have him. If ye miss the 
 eye, the bullet s like to glance off his skull, and tis a 
 shot takes nerve. After a man s forty, he hain t no 
 business with that shot, and then few men has any 
 business with a bear at that distance anyway. If ye 
 make the eye shot and he drops as ye jump aside, 
 there ain t nothing that sets a man up like that. Ye 
 remember it all yer life ; that s hunting. If ye miss, 
 drop yer gun and draw yer knife, and if ye are quick 
 and strike his heart ye may be lucky enough to get off 
 with some bad scratches; it s yer only show. 
 
 "The sun will be out soon, and the bears won t 
 move much; they like to sun emselves after a cold, 
 wet night, and in this light snow we can track em 
 easy. Still, bear is oncertain, ye can t reckon on em. 
 We may strike a trail and have to follow it all day, so 
 we d better take some grub, case we have to be out 
 over night." 
 
 "When all was ready, a start was made, with Zeb in 
 the lead, just as the sun began to come out from the 
 clouds. The fog lay thick on the basin and the low 
 hills, over which, towards the mountains to the south, 
 their course lay. A sharp walk of an hour brought 
 them to much higher ground. Below lay a great 
 lake of fog, covering Yellow Pine Basin, and out from 
 it, like islands, here and there, were the tops of hills, 
 and down the mountain sides great detached masses of 
 fog slowly settled. 
 
 Bud stopped and gazed on the picture below them,
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 41 
 
 which it took little stretch of the imagination to be 
 lieve was a water scene. 
 
 "I feel as if I were looking down on New York 
 Bay ; it makes me think of home, or what was home. 
 How strange it is," he said, " the things a man cares 
 the least about thinking of come up to him so unex 
 pectedly. If there is something he don t wish to think 
 of, anything brings it to his mind. You can break 
 yourself of every habit but that. 
 
 That s so, Bud. Some things are like a sore 
 thumb ; ye forget all about it, and then yer thumb hits 
 something and ye have to remember it. Pears to me 
 I see a track up yon hill looks like it might be a bear 
 track." 
 
 Going over to the hill, it proved to be a bear track, 
 "not an hour old, too," Zeb pronounced it to be. 
 They took up the trail, and in the excitement of his 
 first bear hunt the gloomy look on Bud s face, the 
 memory awakened by the lake of fog, gave place to 
 one more suited to the emotion of the chase. They 
 could see, as they looked from the small rise of ground 
 they had mounted, the trail turning towards some 
 bushes in the valley below. 
 
 " Now s the time I wish we had a couple of good 
 dogs to go in and hold the bear till we could get a 
 shot. He s down there among them bushes, and 
 we ve got to be mighty sly or we ll lose him. He 
 won t move for a while and we ve got to git on him. 
 I can t see him, but it s a moral certinty he s behind 
 the bushes. "We re right with the wind ; tain t like 
 he ll see us. A bear mostly feeds with his head to the 
 wind, and he s a-feeding on the browse, or he s stand 
 ing in the sun. If he s feeding, we kin steal up on
 
 42 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 him; if he ain t feeding, only sunning himself, his 
 eyos are half shut and his back is towards us where it 
 gets the sun, but he ll hear quicker nor if he was 
 a-chawing of the bushes. I can t see the trail beyond 
 that big clump, and he s behind it, I bet ye. If we go 
 down on him, chances are we won t git no good shot; 
 we ll go over yon and come down as nigh him as we 
 kin ; the trees is thick there and we kin keep behind 
 em, but don t make no noise, Bud. You f oiler me." 
 
 With this admonition and command, the old man, 
 picking his steps, moved along the ridge until he came 
 where the wooded point made down close to a little 
 swag, and descended the hill among the trees, increas 
 ing with each step his caution, and as his inexperi 
 enced companion would strike some dry branch giving 
 forth a cracking sound, muffled somewhat by its cov 
 ering of snow, he would raise his hand in warning. 
 Slowly, and making as little noise as possible, they 
 had gone nearly down the hill, where, getting a better 
 point of view, they could see, behind the bushes, a 
 black bear, the sun shining on his glossy coat, which, 
 in the snow, seemed, by contrast, black as ink. He 
 was standing quietly, his side partly turned to them. 
 They were screened by the trunk of a large pine, and 
 not over fifty yards from the game was a similar 
 friendly tree. 
 
 " We ll go to yon tree as sly as we kin, and ye take 
 the shot, Bud. Aim at his heart and don t be nar- 
 vous. Ye ll have a good shot. Tain t thirty rods. 
 If ye miss, I ll be ready for him, but ye ll get him." 
 
 Stepping with the greatest caution, Zeb leading, 
 they at last reached the tree. It seemed half an hour 
 to Bud, whose nerves were all strung to a high pitch.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 43 
 
 " Rest yer gun," whispers Zeb, " gainst the trunk, 
 take a good aim, and, as soon as ye kin, give him an 
 other. I ll be ready if ye miss. Keep cool and get a 
 good bead on him ; all the time ye want. 
 
 Evidently the bear was unconscious of his enemies. 
 Bud took plenty of time, a projection of the bark on 
 the trunk afforded him a fair rest for his gun. When 
 he had the aim and his hand was steady, he fired. 
 
 The start given him by the unexpected noise and 
 the blow of the bullet staggered the bear for an instant, 
 and, before he could turn to run, Bud put in another 
 shot. 
 
 " Ye ve got him, Bud; see the blood; ye ve hit the 
 heart," said Zeb, as he lowered his Winchester, which 
 he had kept in readiness to give the death shot should 
 Bud have missed or failed to give a mortal wound. 
 With the caution of experience, he restrained Bud, 
 who would rush impetuously after the bear. " Go 
 slow, Bud; go slow, there ain t no hurry," he said, 
 and with his gun ready for the wounded animal, should 
 he turn, he went down the hill. The blood on the 
 snow showed the track. Something between a squeal 
 and a grunt came from the next clump of bushes as 
 they neared it. " That s the last of him," said Zeb, 
 as parting the willows they saw the beast dying, and 
 as they looked he was dead. 
 
 " What do you think of that, Zeb? How is that 
 for my first shot at a bear ? Right where I held for 
 him; dead in the heart; and there s the other, a little 
 too high," said Bud, as he found the holes which his 
 bullets had made. 
 
 "Ye did well, Bud; ye did well. Ye ll make a 
 hunter. I was a- watching ye. Ye was shaking when
 
 44 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 ye lifted yer gun, but when ye got the sight ye was 
 steady as a rock. Ye ll make a man, Bud, ye will. 
 When a man goes to shoot at game, or goes into a 
 fight or anything that takes nerve, specially when it s 
 all new to him, and he s kind of shaky, and when he 
 puts in his shot, or when the fight comes, he s quiet 
 and steady; he s a man. When he goes in cool and 
 gets to shaking when the p int comes, he ain t no use 
 only to sit round a bar-room stove in winter, and 
 hunt and fight with his tongue. I feel I know ye 
 better now, Bud. I had an idee ye was a man before. " 
 
 Praise like this from old Zeb, and his first bear, 
 made Bud step on air. He stroked the thick long fur ; 
 he lifted a big paw with its pad and long claws, some 
 of them worn from the tearing asunder of rotten logs 
 in search of ants, always a toothsome delicacy to a 
 bear s palate. He admired his size, his prime coat ; it 
 was his bear and it was his first one. 
 
 All of us who love the noble sport have killed our 
 first bear, and no matter how sorry a specimen of its 
 kind it may have been, a certain halo always clings 
 around that bear. Subsequent bears may have been 
 giants of the family, and may have tried our nerve and 
 met their deaths by shots we will remember and feel 
 proud of having made so long as we live ; yet the first 
 bear marks a red-letter day in the calendar of our 
 lives. As Bud was a novice, the skinning of the bear 
 fell to Zeb, who did it with a quickness and skill that 
 showed his familiarity with the process; for there is 
 one right way to skin a bear, and as many wrong ones 
 as there have been, are, or ever will be novices to try 
 it. The skin was left on a projecting limb of a black 
 pine, and the hunt resumed.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 45 
 
 "What do you think that bear would weigh, 
 Zeb?" 
 
 "May be three hundred or thereabout; he warn t 
 very big, but it s a fine skin." 
 
 It seems so to me, Zeb ; but it is a pity we can t 
 use the meat." 
 
 " That s so, Bud, but less it s a cub, bear s meat s 
 no good." 
 
 " Where will we go next, Zeb ? " 
 
 "Well, I was a- thinking; twas snowing all night, 
 and sence the sun come out a bear would naterally be 
 a-feeding or a-sunning himself. It s bout time they 
 was a-getting dry, and we d better make for some 
 water. There s quite a crick yonder, couple of miles 
 or so away ; we ll go over there and keep on the hill 
 side up the crick, and it s like we ll get another." 
 
 Half an hour brought them to where they could 
 overlook the tumbling waters of a creek as it rushed 
 down its steep bed. 
 
 " Wind s changed so we kin f oiler along this side," 
 said Zeb. "It s everything to be right with the 
 wind ; when it s warm or kind of moderate, bear has a 
 keen scent. When it s freezing cold, seems they re 
 like a dog, don t smell much." 
 
 " I never knew that, Zeb." 
 
 "Well, it s so; when it s cold, scent don t lie; but 
 there s another thing that s so too. Most everything, 
 bears specially, see farther and they hear better then ; 
 pears like it was sort of providential. What they lose 
 one way, they make up the other. We ll keep the 
 wind and we ll go still, and if we have any kind of 
 luck we ll see one likely." 
 
 Taking this as a hint to stop conversation, Bud fol-
 
 46 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 lowed behind in silence. A half hour or more went 
 by, the ascent and the increasing depth of the snow, as 
 they got farther into the mountains, making progress 
 slow and tiresome. They were forced, by the abrupt 
 high bank of a little canon, through which the waters 
 of the stream were leaping and boiling, as in great 
 jumps from rock to rock they ran in their channel, to 
 direct their steps higher up the hillside. They had 
 just reached a point where they might turn down and 
 get nearer the stream, when Zeb s quick ear caught a 
 rustling in the willows fringing the water below. 
 With uplifted hand he enforced special caution. 
 
 "I hear him," he whispered; "he s gone in the 
 bushes; he s come down along the bank and is looking 
 for a quiet place to drink." 
 
 " May be it s a deer," suggested Bud. 
 
 " No, it ain t no deer; it s a bear, and a big one, too. 
 Hear how he breaks down the dry willows as he 
 moves; takes heft to do that. I ll go down and cross 
 the crick below. If he comes out and is moving away, 
 give him a shot, but don t ye stir otherwise till ye 
 hear my shot ; then work down and shoot if ye see 
 him, but don t go too nigh, and keep ready with yer 
 gun. 
 
 Zeb retraced his steps, and in a minute all sight 
 and sound of him was lost. Alert to obey his instruc 
 tions, Bud watched the bushes for the coming out of 
 the bear. He could tell from the cracking of the dead 
 willows and the swishing about of the green ones that 
 he was still there, but he made no move to come out. 
 
 The time seemed long since Zeb had left him, and 
 strain his ears as he would, he could hear no noise 
 that might by any stretch of fancy have come from
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 47 
 
 him. Once or twice he raised his rifle as the animal 
 in his moving seemed likely to emerge from the 
 clump of bushes; once he fancied that through the 
 leafless screen he could see some gray mass. With 
 his faculties strained to high tension, feeling that now 
 he had a reputation to sustain, for the morning s 
 affair had, perhaps, given him a certain conceit of 
 what was to be expected of him, and anxious to stand 
 still better with his friend, he experienced the sensa 
 tion of troops only slightly inured to the experiences 
 of war, who stand hour after hour in line, waiting to 
 be sent into action, the distant sounds of conflict seem 
 ing to be calls for orders that do not come. It s 
 wearing, waiting at such times, and it tries nerves new 
 to such experiences, and minutes seem tens and scores. 
 But, as in the customary accounts of such matters, " a 
 gun opened to the left." 
 
 The sharp crack of Zeb s rifle was heard, and out of 
 the willows came a gray monster. The first surprise 
 had startled him into turning, but, like many a one 
 before, man or beast, the impetus of flight was over 
 come by the idea of fight, and, rearing up on his giant 
 haunches his massive body, with his fore legs clawing 
 the air, the bear emitted growls deep and angry. Bud 
 fired without touching him not so strange a thing 
 for to a new hand to hit an object below is much a 
 matter of chance, the tendency to lift the end of the 
 barrel as he pulls the trigger is so natural. With the 
 rashness of excitement, Bud rushed down the hill. 
 
 " Keep back, keep back," yelled Zeb, and he checked 
 himself hardly ten rods from the infuriated animal, 
 who, seeing his foe, made a mad rush for him. Bud 
 pulled trigger again, but in his excitement he had
 
 48 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 forgotten to throw the lever and renew his cartridge, 
 and only a dull click came as the hammer fell. 
 
 "Run down hill," yelled Zeb, and as the flying 
 Bud tore past, the old fellow came into the open spot 
 near the willows, and towards his other enemy 
 charged the furious brute. Zeb dropped on one knee ; 
 he got up again, and rigid as marble he stood to 
 meet the onset, man and gun as immovable as the 
 rocks above them. With growls that pierced the air 
 with their shrillness, and had the roll of thunder in 
 them, swinging his powerful fore legs, every claw 
 standing out ready to tear when the arm struck, came 
 the great gray beast, wild with anger. He was almost 
 at the end of the gun-barrel, and he lowered his head 
 as he had his enemy within his fearful grasp. Sharp 
 rung out the true old rifle, and before it fell to the 
 ground, his knife out, Zeb jumped one side and drove 
 it in the monster s body, whose clutching claws, as he 
 passed, tore the shirt from the old man s shoulder and 
 drew blood. 
 
 Borne by his impetuous rush, the bear was impelled 
 onward; he stumbled, he fell, with a bullet through 
 eye into brain, and the knife through his heart. 
 
 All happened so quickly that perhaps not a minute 
 had elapsed between Zeb s quick call to Bud and the 
 death of the bear. 
 
 Actuated by the peremptory command of the old 
 man, he had torn down hill towards the creek, but as 
 he was not one to leave a friend at such a time, when 
 he realized what he was doing he stopped, and put a 
 new cartridge in place, but too late to get in a shot 
 before the bear was on his friend. The steady hold 
 ing of his fire, the death shot, and Zeb s jump to the
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 49 
 
 side and blow with a knife he saw, without being 
 able to render any assistance. The torn shirt and 
 lacerated shoulder with the blood trickling down it, 
 gave him alarm, and Bud rushed up. 
 
 " Are you hurt, Zeb ? Are you hurt ? " 
 
 " Pears like I am," said Zeb. "I feel so~good, 
 though, it don t count. I wouldn t ha missed this for 
 nothing. I bet I didn t touch the bone when I Avent 
 through his eye, but for fear I had been onsteady, I 
 thought I d get his heart; ye can t take no chances 
 with such a cuss as that." 
 
 " But you re hurt; see the blood." 
 
 "The shirt s worse hurt than I am. His claws 
 kinder raked me, but that ain t nothing. Them cuts 
 is no depth," and taking some snow, he wiped the 
 blood away, and Bud bound the torn shirt-sleeve 
 about the arm as well as he could. " I hain t felt so 
 good, Bud, not for three years. That shot did me 
 a power of good. I feel like I was young. I didn t 
 know my hand and nerve was so steady. It ain t 
 nothing for a young man, but when a man gets round 
 sixty he has a conceit of such a shot, and it does him 
 good all through. I feel like I ve been a-hunting and 
 made a good hunt, and a man can t feel more peart 
 than to feel that." 
 
 They went up to the dead bear, a great silver-tip. 
 
 " I didn t know a bear could be so big," said Bud. 
 
 " "Well, he is a big one; the biggest I ever see out 
 of Calif orny; he ll weigh nine hundred or more." 
 
 And he was a monster; his great bulk, stretched on 
 
 the snow, covered with long silky fur, brown near the 
 
 skin, the end of each hair tipped with gray, loomed 
 
 up like the carcase of an ox. As Zeb said, his bullet 
 
 4
 
 50 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 had gone through the flesh of his eye without touching 
 the bone of the skull. 
 
 "What a fight he made! And, Zeb, why did you 
 hold your shot so long? He was nearly on you; I 
 thought you were going to be killed. What an old 
 hero you are, anyway ! You were like an iron man, so 
 steady." 
 
 " Well, Bud, if I hadn t been steady then, I d have 
 been pretty stiff by this time. Twas the only chance 
 to get that ball in his eye-socket, and to knife his heart 
 if I missed. That was a dang spry jump, warn t it, 
 Bud ? I ll think of that long as I live. That s hunt- 
 ing ; and I got off mighty lucky. But we must skin 
 him now while he s warm." 
 
 It was no easy job, for their united strength could 
 not turn the monster over, and it was only by using 
 a long stick as a lever that they did turn him; but at 
 last the skin was off and his great pads and mighty 
 claws were preserved on it. Bud insisted on carrying 
 the skin, no little weight it was, and as dark was fast 
 coming on, they started back, picking up the other 
 skin on their way. These skins, subsequently tanned 
 with the hair on, made a great addition to the furni 
 ture of the cabin, ornamenting the chairs by day, and, 
 if there was need for them, warm coverings for the 
 beds. 
 
 Zeb s wounds proved little more than deep scratches, 
 and soon healed; but the torn shirt, manage it as he 
 might, he could not mend to his satisfaction, and, it 
 having been a favorite shirt, he, in most picturesque 
 manner, cursed the dead bear and all his tribe as, pa 
 tiently endeavoring to unite the tattered shreds into 
 some serviceable shape, he plied his needle.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ALTERNATE snow squalls and clear weather, increas 
 ing frost at night, and a growing chilliness when the 
 sun was obscured by passing clouds, indicated the near 
 coming of winter. 
 
 Continued labor began to give the cut they were 
 running such good promise of reaching its contem 
 plated end that our friends were encouraged to expect, 
 within two or three months, should only ordinary 
 storms impede, having it under the shaft. That it 
 would be deep enough when it reached that point, or 
 before, to strike the bed-rock they did not doubt. I 
 say they, but it would be better to say Zeb did not 
 doubt ; for the younger man having no experience of 
 his own to form an opinion, made Zeb s his. Should 
 they strike bed-rock, they would hew out the sluice- 
 boxes to carry off the gravel, and make the riffles to 
 catch the gold, as, in the passage of the gravel through 
 the boxes, the little grains, from their greater weight, 
 would fall among them. They would bring in the 
 water along the convenient hillside by means of a 
 ditch, which, as it would be of no great length, they 
 could quickly dig in the early spring. Should the cut 
 not be low enough when it reached the shaft, they 
 would drive it still farther if they could; but this 
 view of the matter was not prominent in their minds, 
 for they had quite settled on it that before, or when,
 
 52 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 the cut came under the shaft, it would be on bed-rock. 
 All the hours of light were spent in hard work at the 
 excavation. 
 
 In the evenings they worked on, and at last finished, 
 the wheelbarrow. Quite an ingenious creation it 
 was, considering the tools employed, only axe and 
 knife, and that wooden pins had to answer in place 
 of nails and screws, and that the journal boxes in 
 which the shaft of the wheel ran were pieces of bone 
 from the leg of an elk ; true, the wheel was somewhat 
 wobbly, and it did not hang as they wished, and it 
 was cumbrous and heavy; but, on the whole, they 
 were much pleased with it. Bud, especially ; for his 
 deftness with axe and knife was quite remarkable; 
 and while Zeb might be said to be the designer, he 
 was the builder. His ingenuity and aptness also 
 showed itself in various little improvements in the 
 cabin and its furniture a washboard for their clothes ; 
 shelves, and many other things. 
 
 Zeb was no idler, and while Bud was engaged with 
 axe and knife, he was pulling and kneading buckskin 
 in the process of tanning, or cooking, or washing 
 their woollen clothes, or making mittens out of buck 
 skin already tanned. And so, by the light of the big 
 fire in the fireplace, they kept hands and minds busy. 
 
 A long life, and much of it passed among stirring 
 scenes, and all of it in a manner new and strange to 
 his companion, was bit by bit unfolded, as Bud ingen 
 iously drew the old man out, as from time to time he 
 did, when supper was over and they had settled down 
 to their evening occupations. 
 
 "While it took little or no urging to get Zeb to talk 
 for, as he was wont to say, " I ain t one of them still
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 53 
 
 fellers who don t say nothing, always a- thinking or 
 looking like they was a-thinking; I ve got to open 
 my head " he was singularly uncommunicative about 
 his personal actions. He would talk by the hour of. 
 his old partner Yank, whose memory he tenderly 
 cherished, and whose sayings and doings were his 
 frequent theme. 
 
 He had "gone to Calif orny in 49," his wander 
 ings had extended to every Western State and Terri 
 tory. He had prospected in British Columbia and 
 in Northern Mexico, had served in the war, and cuts 
 and bullet scars on face and body marked him as one 
 who had borne a part in making the history of his 
 time. It needed but little imagination to connect him 
 with what must have fallen to an adventurous pioneer 
 in the great wilds, and less acquaintance with him to 
 know that in whatever life he had moved he had acted 
 his part like a man. 
 
 A rough idea of his life, it was true, had come to 
 Bud from things the old man would drop. 
 
 "When I was in Californy in 49 or 50 or 51." 
 " I had a claim on the Fraser." " Twas in Xevady 
 in 59." " I see a heap o curous things down among 
 the Greasers." " Montany is dang cold." " I never 
 see nothing in Wyoming or Dacoty. " "Colorado s 
 all quartz. " And a chance remark now and then about 
 the war had come from him, and out of those dis 
 jointed remarks Bud had made a kind of chart of 
 Zeb s life; but he longed to have the log-book of that 
 life s voyage through the seas of peril and adventure 
 it must have been sailed. But, like men of his kind, 
 some chance allusion to this or that in which he had 
 been an actor was all that passed his lips.
 
 54 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 Perhaps no more uncommunicative class of men 
 exist than the pioneers of the extreme West. One has 
 to know them and know them well to draw from them 
 statements of their personal experiences. In addition 
 to a certain stoicism acquired either by contact with 
 that greatest of modern stoics the American Indian 
 or perhaps from somewhat like causes producing a 
 similar result, they are of all men the most retiring, 
 the least given to telling what they have personally 
 endured or suffered or had part in. Their portraits, 
 from those tintypes in the dime novels to the full 
 cabinet size of more pretentious literary productions, 
 are for the most part caricatures. 
 
 Can some penny-a-liner, in his lodgings, over toast 
 and tea, or a pint of beer, with only his imagination to 
 draw from, depict these men whom he has never even 
 seen? Can some story-teller of the day, however 
 graphic his pen, or fervid his fancy, or exhaustive his 
 analysis of character, spend a few months, or a few 
 years for that matter, in frontier towns or army posts, 
 making excursions here and there into the wilderness, 
 aiming to get in touch with these men whom he may 
 desire to put in evidence for those of to-day and those 
 of after-time to see and to understand how the winning 
 of a wilderness to civilization affected the actors in the 
 work, without living with them, sharing their toils, 
 and making common interest with them in the affairs 
 of their lives ? He cannot, should he chance to meet 
 the Simon-pure article and recognize him as such; 
 while the chances of his taking false metal for good, 
 and from its tawdry and pinchbeck character getting 
 his ideas of color and texture and weight, are a thou 
 sand to one.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 55 
 
 "What Burns did for the Scotch peasant, he could 
 do because, being one of them, living their life, his 
 happy touch of genius not only could describe them as 
 they seemed to themselves to be, but could, from sim 
 ilar life and like experiences, invest them with some 
 thing that was in them, the capacity to bring some 
 thing out of themselves, that reserve form or character 
 of individualism which lends to written description 
 the same fidelity and charm that the masters of old 
 have with their brushes given to canvas. 
 
 A photograph is one thing; art makes quite another 
 of the same subject. 
 
 The close intimacy which had of necessity sprung 
 up between the two, gave Bud the desire of knowing 
 more of what Zeb had done in the kind of life that 
 to himself was so new ; the more that, notwithstand 
 ing his apparent frankness, there was a reserve about 
 the old man that had in it a savor of mystery ; and 
 with all the adroit turnings of the conversation he 
 could manage, reenforced by some knowledge he had 
 gained of his peculiarities, he sought to draw him out, 
 sometimes with a temporary success, that led him to 
 expect more again, and sometimes with no success at 
 all. Still, many a tale of the hunt or of Indian skir 
 mish or early days in California, strange happenings 
 in the wilderness or Mexico, fell from Zeb s lips in 
 those evenings. Under the excitement of narration, 
 bits of his part in those happenings would uncon 
 sciously escape him, so modestly told, however, that 
 only knowing the man, as Bud began to do, could he 
 see the brave actor he had been in them all. 
 
 An occasional hunt by one or the other had, from 
 time to time, added to their stock of elk and venison
 
 56 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 and filled the meat-house. Gradually the clouds 
 began to thicken, and to Zeb s experienced eye, the 
 shutting in of winter seemed close at hand. 
 
 "We ll have to take the hosses down," he said; 
 " can t put it off much longer. " As yet old Bally, his 
 barometer, made no sign, but he watched him daily 
 for indications. 
 
 They hastened the making of the snowshoes from 
 the long pieces of wood they had brought into the 
 cabin to dry, Zeb hewing the slabs down until they 
 were rough boards five inches wide, a little over an 
 inch thick, and nine feet long. " There s so much 
 timber here," he said, "a short shoe will be better 
 than twelve or fourteen feet ones, though they ain t 
 so good Avhere the ground favors. 
 
 Under his direction Bud finished them down, mainly 
 with the knife, leaving them an inch thick at the middle 
 and a little back of it, perhaps for a foot and a half, 
 but paring the wood away from them to either end 
 until it was hardly a quarter of an inch thick. What 
 was to be the bottom was made as smooth as possible, 
 and the front of each shoe was cut to a rounding point. 
 The finishing touches old Zeb put on himself, from 
 time to time, holding them up on one hand to get the 
 proper balance. The pointed ends were then boiled 
 or steamed, so that they might be curled up like 
 sleigh-runners, and as only one could be heated at a 
 time, the capacity of the lard can not being equal to 
 more, it took some little time to heat them, and after 
 wards to bend them to the precise curve, in which con 
 strained position they were left to dry until morning, 
 and then tied down with fishlines to retain their 
 shape.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 57 
 
 An old pair of leather boot-legs were fished out from 
 Zeb s " alfallcases " and cut into strips, which, being 
 pinned to the sides of each shoe where the foot would 
 come, made pockets for them. A little cross-piece 
 was pinned far enough to catch the heel and help retain 
 the foot in place; an extra smoothing was given to 
 the bottom, and the shoes pronounced perfect. 
 
 Bud, with interest, watched their finishing, and, as 
 he lifted one in his hands, expressed his fears that the 
 shoes would prove too heavy. 
 
 "Why, Zeb," he said, "a man can t lift these 
 things as they are, or with snow on them, and get 
 along on them for half a mile." 
 
 " Ye don t lift em, Bud; ye slide them long like 
 skates; we ll try em the first snow; ye must get a 
 little savvy of em, for by the time we take out the 
 bosses, or when we come back after leaving them, 
 chances are we ll want em." 
 
 The next few days enough snow fell for practice, 
 and under Zeb s tuition Bud acquired the sliding 
 motion and began to think it would be easy to walk 
 all day with them, and so said to his friend. 
 
 " "Tain t so easy as ye think," was the reply. 
 " When the snow lies deep and its new snow, then one 
 end will go up and the other will go down, and both 
 of em want to go differnt ways, and they ll git 
 covered with snow, and it will stick to the bottoms, 
 and each one on em will weigh fifty pounds, and ye ll 
 be that worn out and tired ye ll wish ye were dead; 
 for days afterwards yer legs and yer back will ache, 
 and ye ll be that stiff ye won t be no good; ye ll get 
 uster em, though, and ye ll do right smart now. 
 
 " When we get back from taking the bosses down,
 
 58 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 if the snow falls, as it s likely, I won t bring it up to 
 ye that ye said twould be easy to snowshoe all 
 day; twould be like Miss Pope, my old aunt, who d 
 always be a-throwing up to ye something ye had 
 said, and doing it at some such time as that ll be. 
 
 " How cussed mad old man Pope uster get. He d 
 swear a blue streak, and he a deacon in the Church, and 
 then he d get right down and pray, a-stopping of his 
 ears with his fingers; but twas nuts for us boys, yer 
 bet yer. 
 
 Over a foot of snow had fallen, and Bally began to 
 dislike the looks of the weather. His instinct told 
 him it was time to get into winter quarters, and one 
 morning, in a driving snow-storm, they started down 
 the river with the horses. Their provisions for the 
 trip grub, more correctly speaking in the vernacular 
 of the country their guns, a blanket apiece, together 
 with the two pairs of snowshoes, they could put on a 
 pack-saddle on one of the animals, and so get them 
 down easily, but evidently they would be something 
 of a weight coming back; they would cache the pack- 
 saddle where they left the horses, but their riding- 
 saddles they did not dare to trust out so long, exposed 
 to the winter and to the gnawing of the leather by 
 any hungry animals who might take a fancy to them, 
 and they could ride bare-back if they wished, and the 
 way allowed. 
 
 " I wish we d started yesterday," said Zeb; " there s 
 that canon to go down; we ll have to climb up pretty 
 high to get along at all, and the snow s deeper than I 
 wish it was, and she s a-coming faster and faster." 
 
 They soon found the way was more difficult than 
 they had looked for, for the canon through which
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 59 
 
 the Salmon penetrates a country almost impassable 
 in summer, is itself impossible of passage ; and only by 
 keeping high up on the craggy mountain sides can, 
 even in the season most favorable, the descent of the 
 river be made. 
 
 The snow, which along the stream was not over a 
 foot and a half, grew deeper with every foot of alti 
 tude. To get to the winter range they had selected 
 for the horses (a somewhat indefinite and uncertain 
 range it was, for they had never seen it, and knew 
 absolutely nothing about it, but Zeb s acquaintance 
 with a mountain country made it certain to him that 
 a low country of plain and rolling hill, where the 
 snowfall would be light and the grass good, lay down 
 the river within forty miles or so, and so they spoke 
 of it as something that was) involved getting through 
 or over the rim of mountains that enclosed the basin. 
 
 The impassable canon required them to keep high 
 up the mountain side, where the snow was heaviest, 
 and the very ragged and broken character of the 
 ground necessitated winding up and down to avoid 
 obstacles of craggy rocks or dense timber or sharp 
 declivities. 
 
 Sometimes they could ride a bit, only perhaps to 
 fairly get on their horses when the impediments of 
 snow, timber, or rock forced them to get off and exert 
 all their strength to get themselves and the horses 
 along. 
 
 They floundered on, often waist deep in snow, but 
 made little progress in the direction they must go, 
 owing to the zigzag course they had to take and the 
 obstacles they encountered. Night came on, and they 
 had not reached the divide in the pass. The fast fall-
 
 60 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 ing snow made the way most difficult, and by morn 
 ing it might be impassable. 
 
 Though horses and men were much fatigued, Zeb 
 decided that they must press on, the only hope for 
 the animals being to get them the other side of the 
 divide as soon as possible. They made coffee, light 
 ing a fire with difficulty, and while this was going on 
 and the coffee was being drunk, the horses had a rest. 
 
 The storm was increasing, and there were still sev 
 eral miles to go before the divide could be reached. 
 The river was below them, there was no doubt of their 
 being able to keep their course ; they had only to keep 
 the hillside as they best could, and go as nearly in the 
 course of the river as they might. 
 
 The pack was placed on a fresh horse, and all ranged 
 in single file, old Bally leading, he being the steadiest 
 to break trail after Zeb, who went ahead ; Bud bring 
 ing up the rear, they started again. 
 
 To recount the struggles and toil of that weary walk 
 would convey to the ordinary reader little idea of what 
 they really were. A horse would get down, and, ex 
 hausted by his plungings, lie where he fell; he would 
 have to be lifted on his feet, and the snow trampled 
 down before him. One would stray down hill and 
 with infinite labor in pushing and hauling, be brought 
 back into line. Strength of body in both men and 
 animals became quite exhausted, and only that power 
 above physical strength, the power of will, kept them 
 moving, the men urging on the weary animals and 
 trampling the snow before them. Old Bally, who, 
 from long companionship with his master, had im 
 bibed something of his dogged perseverance and deter 
 mination, kept his place behind Zeb, until, from sheer
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 61 
 
 fatigue, the old fellow would fall on his knees ; then the 
 last horse in the line would be forced into his place 
 and he put in the rear; the others, in their passage 
 through the snow, making it easier going for him. 
 Bud would take Zeb s place for a time, but, though a 
 strong young man, he had not the seasoned sinews of 
 the elder, and would soon become worn out, and Zeb 
 would go to the front again. The instincts of the 
 horses told them that sure death was behind them and 
 a possibility ahead, and it was pitiable to see them 
 stagger a few steps, stop, and then forge on again. 
 
 The steam, rising from the animals and the cloth 
 ing of the men, caused by their violent exertion and 
 the melting on them of the snow, now falling faster 
 than ever, made them as wet as if they had been in the 
 river below, and hung over them in the heavy air like 
 a cloud, which in the dim light gave a weird appear 
 ance to the little cavalcade, increased by the silence, 
 for no word was spoken and only the soft rustle of 
 the snow as they ploughed their weary way through 
 it, and an occasional snort from a horse, dispelled the 
 illusion that this was some ghostly procession of storm 
 spirits who, surrounded by the slightly luminous 
 cloud, from time immemorial the accepted atmosphere 
 of beings of the other world, were on their nightly 
 travels. 
 
 I say no word was spoken, and none had been for 
 some time. The horses, as they fell, were pushed on 
 their feet again; the men took each other s place in 
 the lead and fell behind again, and both would crawl 
 back on hands and knees to bring up the rear when 
 some animal had to be urged on. 
 
 At last it seemed impossible to get Bally on. He
 
 62 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 had fallen with his neck and head extended, and his 
 trembling body and half -closed eyes showed the old 
 horse was near the limit of his power to move. To 
 him had fallen the heaviest of the work of trail maker, 
 and his sturdy frame, overtasked in his prodigious 
 exertions, refused longer to continue the fight for 
 life instinct told him was necessary. 
 
 Zeb took his head in his arms as he would have taken 
 a child. " Bally, old man, Bally," he said, with tears 
 in his voice, it was so tender and so soft, " ye musn t 
 leave me, now. Steady, old cuss, steady, and we ll 
 make it yet. Here, Bud, come and we ll lift him up; " 
 but Bud had sunk down in the snow. Rousing him at 
 last, they tried to get the old horse up, who with his 
 feeble strength tried to help himself. Zeb arranged 
 his legs under him, Bally whined plaintively as he did 
 it, and then both men tried to raise him, but to no 
 purpose. Zeb then tramped out the snow under 
 neath him, and placing his feet on as solid bottom as 
 he could beneath him, and getting his broad back well 
 under the horse s side, with great effort and Bud s less 
 efficient assistance, raised him a few inches. He 
 sustained the weight while he took breath, and then 
 throwing all his great strength into a last attempt, his 
 hands on his knees, his long limbs rigid, he strained 
 every muscle to its utmost, and with Bud s now more 
 vigorous and better directed aid, the old horse trying 
 to help himself, Bally was put on his feet again, and 
 with many strokings and endearing words, and hold 
 ing him up to steady him, was so far encouraged and 
 strengthened as to warrant another start. But other 
 horses were down and refused to rise, and the wearied 
 men struggled with them until all were up.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 63 
 
 For over twenty-four hours not a breath of wind 
 had there been to give a slant to the snow, that, 
 straight as a plumb-line, had been incessantly falling, 
 but now came a little puff, and, as it came, Bally s nos 
 trils dilated, and a glad snort, answered by each horse, 
 told in plain words that something had revived their 
 spirits. 
 
 " Thank God, the divide ain t far; Old Bally scents 
 lower ground," said Zeb. "We re all right now; 
 come on, old cuss," as, after havirg put two other 
 horses ahead of him, Zeb trampled down the snow 
 before them. They made another start. Every step 
 increased the spirits of the horses; hope, that potent 
 stimulant, made their sluggish blood flow again; 
 responsive to it their muscles moved and they ploughed 
 through the snow, now deeper than ever, with marvel 
 lous increase of strength and courage. 
 
 The men felt the impulse and pressed on with re 
 newed vigor, having all they could do to keep out of 
 the way of the animals who plunged after them. 
 
 At last they reached the divide and stopped for 
 breath. " We must get em down the hill a couple 
 of miles or so, as far as we can, said Zeb, for 
 we ll all be dang d stiff after a rest." 
 
 Morning was just breaking, and save that there was 
 a little wind, the storm showed no change. The driv 
 ing snow did not allow of their seeing a hundred feet 
 ahead, but of course their way was as plain as ever; 
 they had but to go down hill, no more continued 
 climbing, and with every foot of descent the snow 
 would be getting lighter. 
 
 They started, and now, instead of having to labori 
 ously lift the dead weight of their bodies, that very
 
 64 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 weight gave impetus to their descent, and plunging, 
 ploughing, and tumbling through the snow, other 
 muscles than those they had so long and tediously em 
 ployed in their ascent being called into play, they 
 moved with comparative comfort. 
 
 Nevertheless, by the time they reached a little flat 
 a small swag or gulch there opening out as it joined 
 a large creek that continued on its way to the river, 
 and some three miles from the divide their strength 
 failed, and horses and men sank down exhausted. 
 
 After a great struggle, trying nerve and strength 
 to the utmost, when, after almost despairing, hope 
 comes and gives us the vigor to succeed, like any other 
 stimulant, its effect is temporary, passing away when 
 the end is attained, and leaving us weaker from the 
 expenditure of a reserve mental force. This once 
 gone, we are not only at the end of our rope, so to 
 speak, but, in the further extending of our limit, we 
 have increased the weariness that before seemed all 
 human nature could endure. 
 
 To men and horses had now come this reaction. The 
 horses were down, Bud lay stretched in the snow 
 asleep, and even the iron, or, rather, the steel, frame 
 of old Zeb was fast getting under the dominion of his 
 sleepy brain. 
 
 " This ain t going to do, Bud. Oh, Bud, git up and 
 bring some dry wood and start a fire while I unpack 
 and do something; ye can t go to sleep now;" and 
 shaking him without effect, he rubbed Bud s face with 
 snow, pulling him on his feet, and cuffing his face and 
 ears. " Git up, I tell ye. We ll make a fire, git some 
 grub into us, and we ll make a bed and take a sleep. 
 I m dang d dull myself."
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 65 
 
 Half dazed, Bud stumbled about, and after a fash 
 ion managed to help Zeb take the light pack from the 
 horse. 
 
 The tall rye grass in the little flat stood above the 
 snow, which was now hardly two feet deep, and the 
 horses roused themselves, and in a tired way nibbled 
 at it, and the fire was made and the coffee and bacon 
 cooked; bread they had brought with them. 
 
 The coffee and the food revived Bud and refreshed 
 his wiry old companion. The fire had melted its way 
 to the ground. A spot was cleared near it, the snow- 
 shoes being used as shovels to remove the snow, fir- 
 boughs were cut and thrown on the wet ground and 
 made the bed. The blankets were spread, and 
 wrapped in them the two went to sleep. The wind 
 was blowing and the snow still coming fast, but in a 
 minute both were unconscious. 
 
 It still wanted some hours of dark when Zeb awoke 
 and piled fresh wood on the fire. Two or three inches 
 of snow lay on the blankets, but the storm seemed 
 nearly spent. The horses had made up to the fire, 
 and, moving about it, showed an impatience to be off. 
 
 Bud was with difficulty aroused, and shivered over 
 the fire, for his wet clothing made a turnout from bed 
 anything but comfortable. The snow was shaken 
 from the blankets, and they were held before the fire 
 to dry, and then all was packed on Bud s pack-horse; 
 the march was taken up again, Zeb walking, but Bud, 
 too sore and lame at first to hardly move, was helped 
 on his horse by Zeb, and rode, until either shame at 
 seeing the old man sturdily striding down the hill, or 
 the discomfort of bare-back riding, brought him to his 
 feet, on which he staggered along in the rear. 
 5
 
 06 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 They worked down stream a few miles, getting 
 quite near the river, which, through lower hills or 
 broken ground, was now making its way to a more 
 level country, and in a fitting place made camp for the 
 night. 
 
 The next night they reached what seemed to be a 
 most desirable winter range, and concluded to go no 
 farther, but leave the horses there, free to wander down 
 stream should weather or inclination prompt them. 
 In a tree they cached the pack-saddle, taking a mental 
 note of its position ; they congratulated themselves on 
 the prospect of abundant feed, water, and shelter the 
 range afforded. 
 
 The horses, when turned out, fell to eating the grass 
 with appetites that fasting and fatigue had made most 
 keen. 
 
 " I m pretty well beat out," Bud said that evening. 
 I thought I could hold my own with most any man ; 
 but you are fresh, and I m sore and lame and tired all 
 over." 
 
 ""Well, Bud, yer young and soft and green. I ve 
 been doing this sort of thing, or something like it, for 
 forty years, and I ve got tough and hard. We ll 
 camp another day here fore we start back ; ye ll git 
 limber soon, and we won t have no such pull as we 
 had. I was nigh done up myself fore we got to 
 the divide, when old Bally came so clost to giving 
 out." 
 
 The storm cleared with cold, freezing weather. A 
 rousing fire, with a great stick for a back log, helped 
 out the protection given by the two blankets mak 
 ing their bed; and with their feet to the heat, they 
 managed, by replenishing the fire at times, to keep
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 67 
 
 warm. Their fatigue induced sleep, and, spite of the 
 cold, they were greatly refreshed next morning. 
 
 That day was spent looking after the horses, and by 
 going about, further satisfying themselves that the 
 range would be safe and comfortable for the horses 
 until spring. 
 
 With much fondling and many injunctions " to take 
 care of yourself, old cuss," and whinnyings from old 
 Bally, Zeb and he took leave of each other. 
 
 While in many respects Bally was by temperament 
 utterly vicious, and unmanageable by any one but his 
 master, biting and kicking at Bud on the slightest 
 attempt at familiarity, obstinate and perverse, his 
 affection for Zeb was an overmastering passion with 
 him, and on this last evening he came up to the 
 fire, standing for minutes watching his friend, and 
 when the tenderness in his crabbed old heart could 
 no longer restrain itself, he would go up to him and 
 put his head on his shoulder, Zeb talking to him 
 meanwhile. 
 
 "Dog gone ye, Bally, I hate to leave ye, but ye 
 see here s grass and water and little snow, and ye ll 
 have a good time this winter, and we ll both come out 
 fat in the spring. Dang yer old heart, but it s too 
 bad ! Keep out from behind him, Bud; he s an old 
 devil. Yes, yer a bad one, Bally, but ye love me, 
 don t ye? " as the horse would lick his ear and face. 
 Yer a-kissing of me. Nobody knows ye but me. 
 Kissing me, a-kicking and a- rearing up and biting at 
 everybody else. Well, it ain t for me to say nothing; 
 but an old cuss like ye oughter to have better man 
 ners. Why, old man, pears like yer thought ye d 
 never see me again. Here s salt for ye, and when ye
 
 68 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 eat that, clear out and feed; ye have your business 
 and I ve got mine." 
 
 Notwithstanding this command, Bally lingered 
 about the fire, watching them as they ate, edging him 
 self up to Zeb, and resting his head against him. 
 " What s inter ye, Bally? Yes," as the horse would 
 whinny, " it s too bad, too dang bad ! But I ll come 
 for ye when the grass is green." 
 
 Not until their first pipes were smoked did Bally, 
 with a last putting down of his head to his master s face, 
 as he found chance to do between the puffs of smoke, 
 and many a fond caress in return, move hesitatingly 
 away, stopping and turning back his head as he went. 
 
 "The old cuss knows we re going to leave, and 
 something is on his mind more nor common; he ain t 
 more nor seventeen year old, and he s sound as a 
 dollar. lie can t git no harm here. I never see a 
 better place to winter stock, but it makes me feel bad 
 the way he acts, he s so dang wise. I hope nothing 
 will happen to him; twould knock me out, we ve 
 been friends so long. Tain t a Christian thing to say, 
 but I d rather see some men die than him. He s 
 onery, I know ; a onery old devil, if there ever was one ; 
 but we re friends. He don t vally any one else a 
 tinker s dam; he s took to me." 
 
 " I never could make friends with him," said Bud. 
 
 " No, nor no one else. I never see sich a hoss. 
 There s a good deal of dog about him, only dogs 
 ain t so bad. A good dog don t want to have nobody 
 a-patting him and a-talking to him but his master, but 
 he ll give anybody a civil answer and put up with a 
 heap, cause a dog s naterally polite; but Bally, he s 
 the worst I ever see. Never would make up with
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 69 
 
 nobody but me, and always got mad if anybody else 
 spoke to him or looked at him." 
 
 " How long have you had him, Zeb? " 
 
 " "Well, let s see; rnebbe twelve years or so. I was 
 in the Grande Ronde Valley, and I passed some 
 fellers with a band of hosses. I see Bally in among 
 em, and I took a notion to him. A feller stumped 
 me to trade for a mule I had, and said: I ll give ye 
 yer pick of the band and ten dollars for that mule; 
 good mule he was, but I hadn t had him long and 
 didn t care nothing special bout him. 
 
 " That s a go, said I, and I picked Bally out of 
 the band. I see from the feller s talk that something 
 was wrong with him. He said he d rather I had 
 taken any other hoss and all that, but I had sized 
 them hoss men years afore, and I knew that some 
 thing was wrong with the hoss. They re deceiving 
 men all hoss- traders is and I didn t like the way he 
 was talking, trying to make me keen to take Bally, 
 but 1 was in for it, and I said, That s the one I want. 
 
 "After a while he and another man with him 
 caught up the hoss, Bally rareing up and kicking, and 
 biting at the lariat they threw on his neck, and yer 
 couldn t git nigh him, so they had to lass him by the 
 hind foot and throw him. We got my rope on him at 
 last, and they rode off with the mule, and me a-hold- 
 ing Bally. He d pull back on the rope and kick and 
 rare and yell, and then he d come up and try to strike 
 me with his fore-feet, squealing and bawling all the 
 time. 
 
 I was a better man then than I be now, but I had 
 as hard a tussle with that hoss as I ever had in my life. 
 First off I d a-sold him for two bits, and then I d have
 
 70 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 given a man a twenty-dollar piece to take him off my 
 hands, and then I come down to business. No man 
 could buy that hoss for no money. Dang ye, says I, 
 yer my hoss, and I hain t yer man by a plaguey 
 sight ! I held onto the rope, and when he d come up 
 to strike at me, I d knock him in the head with my 
 fist and stagger him. The rope I had on him was 
 stout. I d always been a-cussing at that rope, it was 
 so big and heavy. But, so it goes; ye ll cuss a thing 
 for all that s out, and first thing yer know twill 
 come in as handy as a pocket in a shirt ; it was just 
 the thing then, ye bet. I got the end of the rope 
 snubbed round a tree, and at last I brought him up 
 short to it. I was that tuckered I sat down and 
 looked at Bally. I never see sich a wicked eye in a 
 hoss before. He was a-kicking and rareing and 
 a-rolling on the ground, and then he d brace himself 
 and set back on his legs and pull on the rope, but the 
 rope was stout and he couldn t budge it. 
 
 11 1 unpacked and camped right there, for water and 
 grass was handy. 
 
 "I ain t no hoss man, never was, and always de 
 spised a kicking, bucking cayuse, and here I d been 
 and got the meanest hoss a man ever had; but my 
 blood was up and I was going to master him if I 
 killed him or he killed me. 
 
 "That night I thought it all over, and the next 
 morning I tackled him. I d kept him without a bite 
 to eat, for I d drawn him up so clost to the tree he 
 couldn t git his head down; but when I went up to 
 him, he was just fierce as ever, biting at me and 
 squealing with madness. Oh, ye devil, I said, * I ll 
 take this out of ye. I hain t no man to buse a hoss
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 71 
 
 nor nothing that walks; but that hoss was a-going 
 to git sense or he was going to die. I warn t in no 
 hurry ; I got something to eat and smoked. I thought 
 I d keep him another day without eating or drinking, 
 and mebbe twould tame him; but I hadn t nothing 
 to do only to look at him, and he looked so wicked 
 and it seemed kinder mean to fight anything when it 
 was weak from hunger and thirst, and I thought I d 
 give the cuss some show. 
 
 " There was alders along the crick, and I cut a good 
 one nearly three inches thick, and six foot, or so, long. 
 I went up to the hoss with my club in my hand, and 
 let out the rope, so that he had twenty feet of it to 
 circle round with. As soon as he had this liberty he 
 made for me, his eye as wicked as ever, and rareing 
 up he tried to strike me with both his front feet. I 
 watched my chance and hit him in the head with my 
 club a terrible blow it was, for the alder was strong 
 and heavy and he fell like a log. I thought I d killed 
 him, and I went up to him, but he was only stunned; 
 and while I was a-talking kind to him, he got on 
 his feet, looking kind of dazed like. Pretty soon the 
 devil came in him again, and he rushed at me, and I 
 knocked him down again ; and then I thought I had 
 surely killed him, he lay so long; but at last, all of a 
 tremble, he got up and looked at me. "We looked 
 each other steady in the eye for a bit, and then his 
 eyes dropped and I knew I had him. 
 
 " I picketed him on good grass after giving him 
 some water, but he wouldn t feed, though he drank 
 well. All that day he didn t eat, and would watch me, 
 not like he was afeared, but like he was a-thinking. 
 
 " That night I heerd him a-f ceding, and the next
 
 73 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 morning I went up to him like all had heen friendly 
 between us. He let me pat him after a while, and I 
 give him some salt. He let me put a pack on him ; 
 the one I had taken off the mule when we traded. 
 Twas all new to him, and he didn t like it. The 
 devil would get in his eyes again, and I would look 
 him hard and strong, and his eyes would drop, but I 
 led him that day bout six miles, and he was like any 
 young hoss Avith his first load on, but quieter. He 
 would let me handle him and was a-watching me all 
 the time. I was kind to him and talked to him. That 
 night I picketed him with the other t\vo hosses I had. 
 Next morning I packed him again, and was a-kneeling 
 down, cutting a string from a buckskin, when I heerd 
 him snap a little rope he was tied with and come 
 a-charging for me. My gun was on the ground near 
 me, and I got up with it just as his front feet missed 
 me. I brought the gun down on his head and knocked 
 him stiff, but that gun was no good no more. 
 
 " I never struck Bally again, not even with a switch. 
 "When he come to I got him up, spoke kind to him, 
 and stroked his head. Twas a long time afore we 
 got down to be real friendly, but we did, and no better 
 hoss no man ever had than him. We ve had tough 
 times and we ve had easy times, but Bally s been there 
 all the time. I could tell ye things that old hoss has 
 done would surprise ye. Most men wouldn t believe 
 me, but they d be gospel truth. Since you. saw me, 
 I ve been a-packing him, cause that gray of mine 
 hain t no sense with a pack; hangs himself on every 
 tree he comes to, so I have to ride him, but Bally is 
 my riding hoss, and better no man s got for rough 
 work.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 73 
 
 " Twas in 77, or thereabouts, I was south of Snake 
 River and the Injuns was bad. I was a-goin from 
 Silver down to Goose Crick way, where I had left a 
 pack hoss and some traps, only me and Bally. I had 
 my gun, a little grub, and a blankit; riding light 
 like. I hadn t seen no Injuns, and while they was on 
 my mind, there wan t no sign. Still, I made fire one 
 day, bout three hours sundown, cooked, and then 
 rode on eight miles or so, and camped. I let Bally 
 loose and lay down to sleep. Just bout light I woke 
 by him a-biting and pulling the blankit. I knew 
 something was up, for he has a nateral savey of Injuns, 
 and hates em like the devil. I got up and saddled as 
 still as I could. I had to cross a fork of the Bruneau, 
 not more nor half a mile or so from where I camped. 
 I rode down towards the ford. It was full light 
 when we got nigh the ford, for I had picked along, 
 keeping the high ground as much as I could. I didn t 
 like Bally s actions; he was a-snorting and a- winking 
 of his ears. The ford was in a place where it was 
 open and clear of bushes, and just before I got there a 
 couple of shots come and the bullets whistled by me. 
 Being as the ground near the ford was so open, I 
 made to cross the river below it, and into the water 
 we went, slap into a hole that took Bally off his feet, 
 and he tuck on t swimming. I didn t want to wind 
 the hoss there, for the stream was high and rough, with 
 a surgin current, so I slipped off the saddle, and keep 
 ing my gun high, paddled long side of the hoss. Just 
 as we got to the other bank, and where it was steep 
 and hard to git up, the shots come in putty fast, one 
 of em ploughing along Bally s shoulder and one on 
 em barking my neck here," as he put his hand up,
 
 74 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 where was an old scar, one of the many that his head 
 and face bore, and indicated the place. We got up 
 the bank somehow, but Bally broke away from me 
 and run off. I had got to trust him and it hurt me, 
 but I went into the willows, going along as fast as I 
 could, when, as I m a live man, I see Bally coming 
 back to me. He came up and turned, and waited for 
 me to get on him ; I jumped into the saddle, and we 
 were off like scat. Bally under me and Injuns behind 
 I was all right, for no Injun could catch us, I knew 
 that dang well, so I monkeyed along. After a bit 
 some on em followed, but I nailed one devil. I saw 
 him throw up his hands when he was struck, Injun 
 like, and I plugged another, but I misdoubt killing 
 him, and then Bally showed his heels to the whole 
 outfit. That s how that white streak come along his 
 shoulder. Well, after that, I set a heap on that hoss, 
 and I ve other reasons for it, too. 
 
 "But dang it, since I met ye, Bud, I m a-telling 
 things I had forgot. Somehow things come to me, 
 and one brings on another when we get a-talking. 
 We d better make an early start to-morrow, so let s 
 turn in."
 
 CHAPTEK YI 
 
 CARRYING their snowshoes and blankets, which, with 
 their guns, somewhat encumbered their movements, 
 they started back before sunrise next day. The rising 
 ground on their way gave them a sight of the horses 
 feeding in the level below. 
 
 " Good luck to ye, Bally," said Zeb; "I hope ye ll 
 winter well, but I ain t that easy in leaving ye. I wish 
 I was. But ye ll be all right, I know ye will. Dog 
 gone a cussed country where a man can t keep his 
 hoss with him six months in the year. I swear every 
 winter that the next one I ll be out of the snow, but 
 I m that dang fool, winter comes and snow comes, 
 and I m third man every time." 
 
 Late in the afternoon the snow became deeper, 
 making it easier to walk on the shoes than to carry 
 them. They made a few miles with them, Bud add 
 ing to his knowledge of the art. 
 
 "Camp s but twenty miles from here, I reckon. 
 "We must have come eighteen miles to-day, and I don t 
 think it s more nor thirty-eight miles from the cabin 
 to where we left the hosses," said Zeb, around the fire 
 in the evening. 
 
 " We ll be in camp by this time to-morrow night, 
 then?" 
 
 "Mebbe we will, but ye ll find it quite a pull, I 
 tell ye. The snow hasn t packed much, and twill be
 
 76 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 slow work from this on. Ye ll be kind of sore to 
 morrow morning from this little walk to-day, and 
 ye ll be more fore we get front of the fireplace, 
 Bud." 
 
 Youth has faith of its own, that knowledge of 
 things unseen, the foundation of hope, for hope be 
 longs to youth, but the wisdom of one day is the folly 
 of the next. Bud knew he could make the cabin 
 easily the next day, but when the day came, it was 
 hardly noon before he changed his mind. Zeb had 
 gone on slowly, stopping frequently to give the young 
 man breath ;. for himself, he could have made twice the 
 distance in the time. 
 
 As they came to one of these pauses, Bud said, " I m 
 going to carry my shoes a while ; this slipping along 
 and pushing the weight of them is tiresome." 
 
 "Give me the shoes," Zeb insisted; "ye ll find it 
 all ye want to carry yerself in this snow." 
 
 And he soon found it was, and got on the shoes 
 again, but after a little he suggested that they stop 
 and take their lunch. After this and a smoke, and as 
 long a rest as Zeb would allow, they took up the 
 march again. 
 
 Laboriously Bud toiled, his shoes getting heavier 
 with every step, and the way growing steeper. His 
 back ached, the muscles of his legs were sore, and his 
 ankles were tired and worn from the effort of keeping 
 the shoes straight, but he kept grittily on for an hour 
 or two, until Zeb saw he was fast fagging out. 
 
 " We ll go on half a mile or so and make camp," 
 he said ; there s a good place there, and to-morrow 
 we can make it in, it ain t more nor twelve miles or 
 so now."
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 77 
 
 Next day Bud could hardly rise. Their insufficient 
 bed-clothing had, in spite of the fire, kept him cold all 
 night, and he began the last day s walk in sorry 
 plight, dragging along his legs with pain and diffi 
 culty. 
 
 To get to the summit, a sharp pitch of a mile or so 
 had to be ascended. Sometimes on his shoes; some 
 times wading in the snow, carrying them ; sometimes 
 on hands and knees, with great toil and pain, he at 
 last gained Zeb on the ridge, who, carrying the blan 
 kets, had gone ahead. 
 
 His progress had been so slow that two hours had 
 been spent in making the last mile, and he was, as he 
 told Zeb, " about dead." 
 
 "It s mostly down hill from here on; there s no 
 sharp rise, anyway. Get your breath and rest a little. 
 All ye ll have to do will be to keep on yer shoes. 
 Take the stick and poke along with it, and when ye 
 git going too fast put it between yer legs, and let the 
 end drag in the snow behind. Ye can sit down on it, 
 and it s like a rough lock on a wheel or a brake. 
 Don t let the shoes run away with ye, mind that," 
 said Zeb. 
 
 Going down hill is naturally easier than going up; 
 for an object lesson to clearly demonstrate this propo 
 sition, snowshoeing on the long or Norwegian shoe 
 has no equal. You have, with the greatest exertion, 
 on the level, or, worse still, up hill, pushed your shoes, 
 clogged and heavy with snow, slipping back if the 
 ground allows, hanging behind of their own weight, 
 getting heavier and more unmanageable, and you come 
 to a descent. Life begins in the dead, inert shoes ; they 
 glide along without a movement on your part; they
 
 78 YELLOW PINE EASIN 
 
 are carrying you, instead of your carrying them. On 
 they go ; all you have to do is to stand up on them and 
 direct their course. If the descent is steep and the run 
 long, they start, gliding so smoothly, increasing their 
 speed every minute ; they go over some little inequality 
 with a bound; they clear some larger thing with a 
 jump ; they are running along like a locomotive ; they 
 dart like the flight of a fool hen; they overcome dis 
 tance like a rifle ball; no longer inanimate, wooden 
 clogs that with strained muscles you have tediously 
 been urging on, but living things, tearing along in 
 mad exuberance of spirit, madder and madder as the 
 pace grows hotter. 
 
 You may have ridden a mettlesome horse on some 
 cool autumn morning. You have given him rein ; he 
 trots, he gallops, he leaps ; as his blood gets warmer 
 an intoxication comes over him ; the champagne of the 
 frosty air goes to his head; he takes the bit in his 
 mouth; faster and faster he goes over wood and 
 water, like a thistle-down blown by the wind. 
 
 "We will say you are a cool, phlegmatic kind of a 
 man ; even if you are, you slowly begin to feel the 
 wine acting on you, and gradually you partake of the 
 good steed s exhilaration. Your blood comes and 
 goes; to every bound of the horse your ecstatic spirit, 
 your body, lifts itself; so light you feel yourself, tis 
 thistle-down on thistle-down; and if you be of those 
 who feel they can ride as fast as a horse can run, that 
 union of horse and man comes to you. 
 
 You may love a dog. His affection for you, his sim 
 ple, untiring devotion to and absorption in you, makes 
 him, of all animals, the only true friend man has, but 
 you are none of him nor he of you. You are distinct
 
 YELLOW PINE J3ASJN 79 
 
 individuals, necessary to each other, each complement 
 ing the other ; but there are times when a good horse 
 is part of you and you of him. To no other animal 
 comes this union with man. Is it a mere physical 
 phenomenon bred of rushing through air together 
 with a common object and in a common spirit; or 
 has, in the evolution of both from the one germ cell, 
 something common to each clung to them -through 
 all the varying phases of their diverse development ? 
 However that may be, the subject is too abstruse for 
 us here. If you are a horseman, you will recognize the 
 fact, whatever be the cause ; if you are not, or only 
 know a horse as an animal to drag wheels over a 
 good road, your only communication with him being 
 through long lines of leather, all this may seem far 
 fetched. 
 
 On the long Norwegian snowshoes, down a hill, 
 there is much to remind you of what I hope you have 
 sometimes felt on a horse; but to a novice with 
 either there often comes a sudden check, and so it 
 was with Bud. He had with pleasure experienced 
 the grateful sensation of riding on his shoes, as feel 
 ing the downward grade they slid along; and to 
 resist their evident intention of one going one way 
 and the other straight on, or turning still another 
 way, he had from time to time used his pole to break 
 their speed; but as confidence came to him, and 
 they seemed to run more truly, he allowed them more 
 freedom. 
 
 Going down a little incline with a rush that quite 
 suited him, for he was by nature of a stirring habit, 
 and getting a little knack of holding them in their 
 proper relative positions, observing, too, how easily
 
 80 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 their motion was checked when the incline became 
 less steep, he grew overconfident of his powers of con 
 trol of them, and allowed them to attain quite a de 
 gree of speed, and hardly noticed that they had gotten 
 on a long steep incline and were beginning to run 
 with him. In trying to get his pole between his legs 
 to add his weight to retard them with that brake, he 
 lost his pole and with it all control of the shoes. 
 
 Faster and faster they went, the trees whizzing by 
 him as he sped on. They had taken the bit in their 
 teeth, and were carrying him in the wildest run he 
 had ever made. He tried to keep his legs rigid ; he 
 thought of falling down, but there seemed no good 
 place to do it and avoid being dashed against the 
 trees. He seemed going to inevitable destruction with 
 the swiftness of a cannon ball. 
 
 Absolute paralysis seized him, and he only awaited 
 an end that in a few seconds or minutes he felt must 
 come to him, when he would be dashed to death against 
 some great tree trunk. 
 
 Fortunately, however, fate had reserved Bud for 
 other things ; and one shoe striking a twig so as to de 
 flect its course, and the other going straight ahead, 
 he was hurled twenty feet through the air and buried 
 in the snow, where Zeb, who had been passed in his 
 wild flight, found him unconscious, and after vigor 
 ously rubbing his face with snow finally brought 
 him to. 
 
 " Ye ll be a better snowshoer afore ye make two 
 miles in that time again, I bet ye, Bud. Why didn t 
 ye sit down or fall off or do something? It s God s 
 mercy and a fool s luck ye warn t killed. Yer all 
 right; no bones broken," said Zeb.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 81 
 
 Bud s gun had been strapped behind his back, Zeb, on 
 account of his superiority on the shoes, having insisted 
 on carrying all the load. Besides a general shaking up, 
 he had a great bruise across his head, made by the gun- 
 barrel when he fell, but no serious injury had been 
 received; and after Zeb had collected the shoes, which 
 had brought up against some bushes whose tops stood 
 above the snow, Bud, weak and still dazed by his fall, 
 was able to proceed. 
 
 It was well along in the night before the friendly 
 shelter of the cabin was reached, and only Zeb s as 
 sistance and support got them there then. 
 
 For many days Bud felt the effects of his first snow- 
 shoe trip, and it was three before he could join Zeb at 
 their work. Every bone he had ached, every muscle 
 was sore, but Zeb never alluded to his friend s confi 
 dence in his ability to snowshoe. 
 
 Other storms came, and it took half their time to 
 shovel the snow away to clear the cut, but in spite of 
 all this they made good progress. 
 
 Every day they took a pan of gravel, sometimes 
 two or three pans, and washed it; they could no 
 longer doubt but that they had really "struck it." 
 Sometimes they would get of gold, what Zeb would call 
 " a bit to the pan. " Sometimes it would be five cents, 
 or ten cents, sometimes only a cent; and once they 
 panned through a streak that produced five bits in 
 each of several pans. All these grains of gold were 
 carefully secured, and the little phial Zeb put them in 
 was nearly half full, and had perceptible weight; he 
 thought over an ounce. 
 
 The storms had driven away the deer and elk, and 
 the bear had holed up; a lynx now and then, the pine 
 6
 
 82 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 martens in the trees, a few cotton-tail rabbits, and, 
 judging from the tracks, an occasional cougar and 
 wolverine, were, with the few winter birds, the only 
 dwellers in Yellow Pine Basin, save Zeb and Bud. 
 
 Certainly there was no human being within a hun 
 dred miles, unless somewhere in the wilderness a 
 trapper might be plying his lonely avocation. 
 
 A round of hard labor during the hours of light, 
 which now, short as was the distance, they went to 
 and from on their snowshoes, filled in the days. Bud 
 became quite expert in the management of the snow- 
 shoes, for besides running on them every day a little, 
 they would on Sundays take long walks up hill and 
 down, making runs down all the steep pitches they 
 found. He acquired the slide, and Zeb assured him he 
 would make a good snowshoer, for his strength and 
 wind needed only practice to make him as good as the 
 best. Zeb even told him he might get to be as good a 
 man on shoes as was "snowshoe Thompson," these 
 many years the ideal of those who in the far Western 
 snows practise the art in which he was so proficient. 
 
 It was well along in December, near Christmas, and 
 there came great storms, the snow falling steadily for 
 days. At last it seemed labor lost to shovel out the 
 cut every morning, and the day before Christmas they 
 decided to stop work until the storm should cease. 
 Bud had killed a couple of rabbits, and they were to 
 have a Christmas dinner worthy of the day. 
 
 "I ll get the dinner," said Zeb, "and mind ye, I 
 don t want ye monkeying around the fire. When a 
 man s cooking common grub he don t care, but when 
 he s got anything on his mind like this yer dinner, he 
 don t want nobody chipping in. Yank uster say I
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 83 
 
 could make a rabbit stew better nor any one, and for 
 duffs he said I lay over em all. When he d get a 
 little too much (we was young then, Bud), he was 
 always talking bout me, and if anybody said anything 
 the least agin me, he d fight and raise the devil, and 
 nobody could do nothing with him but me. He was 
 a terror, Yank was, and twas his rule to get drunk 
 on Fourth of July and Christmas. Whatever I am, 
 he uster say, I m an American and a Christian, and 
 I ll obsarve them days. 
 
 " He uster feel so good them mornings when he d 
 go out of the cabin and make a bee line for a saloon. 
 He had an idee twas his duty; and when Yank 
 thought he had a duty on hand, he didn t hang back, 
 that warn t his way ; but he d smile like, and go to it as 
 peart as you please. Didn t make no difference what it 
 was, nor how bad, nor how good, it was all the same ; 
 and so he had that idee bout them days. Curous, 
 warn t it ? I never had no like for getting drunk 
 course I did sometimes but I hadn t no taste that 
 way. But when it come Fourth of July I had to, 
 that s all. Yank would have it so, but Christmas he 
 warn t so sot on. 
 
 "What pious idees you has, Zeb, he uster say, 
 is naterally Baptist, and there s a kind of water 
 streak in em. Bern raised that way, your idees is 
 differnt; but there ain t but one idee bout Fourth of 
 July. Yer an American and it s Fourth of July. And 
 so I jist had to git drunk; he wouldn t have it no 
 other way. 
 
 "Well, one Christmas, long say 55 or so, I said 
 I d make a duff; and Yank says, I ll go down and 
 obsarve the day like a Christian. That was a dig at
 
 84 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 me, for Yank had a low-down idee of Baptists ; but I 
 didn t care, nor, for the matter of that, did Yank 
 either. I had raisins and citron and brandy I wish 
 to Lord I had some now and I d show ye a duff to 
 morrow and I made the slickest duff I ever did make 
 that day ; it was a posey. 
 
 Dinner-time come, and I took out the duff, for, 
 drunk or sober, Yank was always on time. He prided 
 himself on that. I put it on the table, and I never see 
 no such duff before nor sence. I heerd a noise and 
 went to the door, and there was Yank coming up the 
 gulch with his gun drawn on a black-haired, black- 
 whiskered, wicked-looking Spaniard, and a crowd 
 a-followin em. In Yank marched him. Dog gone 
 ye, he says, Zeb can t make a duff fit for a hog to 
 eat, can t he? Sit ye down there and eat that duff, 
 or I ll blow yer head off. And as I m a living man he 
 made the Spaniard eat the whole duff; twas hot and 
 twas big. He liked to burn himself and bust himself, 
 and the last of it went hard, too. 
 
 "I tried hard to stop Yank. Why, Zeb, he 
 says, the Greaser has said things of ye no man shall 
 say. Drive on, he d say, as the man would stop 
 while I was talking ; bolt that ere duff or yer a dead 
 man ; and the crowd that would come with em was 
 a-laffin . When it was all down the man, Yank 
 catches him by the collar and kicks him out, and then 
 he laffed fit to kill, and asked the crowd to go down 
 and take a drink, and they all went off with him. 
 
 11 Well, that s how that duff went. The way of it 
 was this. Yank had filled himself up pretty well, and 
 the Greaser come into the saloon, kinder looking for 
 a fight, for he was one of them kind of fellers; folks
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 85 
 
 was kinder shy of him, he d shoot and he d cut so; 
 but Yank, drunk or sober, never feered nothing that 
 walked. The Greaser was trying to bring on a fight, 
 for he d said in the other gulch what he d do to 
 Yank, but Yank was good natured, and never looked 
 for no fight, and twas Christmas Day, and he warn t 
 goin to fight less he had to, and so they kinder kept 
 apart. The saloon was full, for everybody knew 
 Yank would take so much, and though he was peace 
 able, when he d stood enough he d fight. Yank was 
 a-tellin bout me, like he always did at them times, 
 and he said I could make a better duff than any man 
 in Calif orny; and the Greaser, seein a p int to chip 
 in, said he lied, I couldn t make a duff fit for a hog 
 to eat. That was enough for Yank, and he made for 
 him with his fists, but the feller drew and missed. 
 Yank was on him like a bulldog, took away his gun 
 and drew his. Come along with me, ye dirty Greaser, 
 he says ; come along with me ; and so he marched him 
 up to the cabin and made him eat that duff, as I say. 
 
 "First off, I was mad at Yank, and then I laffed 
 myself at the idee of the thing. I making that duff, 
 the finest I ever did make, and Yank and me so fond 
 of duff, and then his making that man eat it clean up 
 so we didn t get a bit of it. That was Yank all over, 
 though ; he warn t like no other man I ever see. 
 
 11 1 said to him next morning, when he was sober, 
 The next duff I make, I ll make for company. 
 What s that? says he. Why, Zeb, that onery 
 Greaser never had no duff before; now he knows 
 what a duff is, and that you kin make a good one, 
 and that was the p int of the argyment. Yank never 
 liked me to speak bout that, though."
 
 CHAPTEK VII 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE came, with the storm at its height; 
 for three days the snow had been falling continuously, 
 and the little cabin was nearly covered, and by morn 
 ing threatened to be quite so. 
 
 But inside all was comfort. A big pile of wood 
 had been cut and stacked up inside, a bright fire was 
 burning in the fireplace, and its cheerful blaze illumi 
 nated the interior. On Zeb s chair was spread the 
 great skin of the silver tip, it s broad head over the 
 back, falling almost to the floor, it s great pads and 
 long claws stretched out on either side. Bud s skin, 
 glossy, and black as night, covered his seat, and both 
 contributed to these mean and common pieces of fur 
 niture the dignity that attaches to rich fur, whether 
 it be on a king s throne or on a log before a camp- 
 fire. 
 
 The fireplace, on either side of which were these 
 fur-covered chairs, was broad and deep and high; a 
 great log, black, even a little charred, from the smoke 
 and heat below, made a rough shelf over it. 
 
 The stones of which the fireplace was built were of 
 irregular shapes and sizes, no attempt having been 
 made to place them at all smoothly, and jutting out 
 here and there at the sides and back, their darkened 
 faces, with a thick layer of soot in places from the 
 pitchy nature of the fuel used, gave the effect of a
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 87 
 
 corner of an old stone fence over which a forest fire 
 had swept, singeing and blackening the moss that had 
 here and there been attached to its stones. 
 
 As the lire burnt, the falling snow made entrance 
 through the wide chimney, and as it dropped on the 
 heated coals, produced a singing sound like that from 
 a boiling tea-kettle. On wooden pegs driven into the 
 logs on each side hung the frying-pans; the old lard 
 can and the coffee can, completing the cooking utensils 
 of the cabin, standing on the hearthstone, at one side. 
 
 The dirt floor had by this time hardened, being 
 twice a day moistened and neatly swept with a broom 
 Zeb had made of willow twigs. In one corner were 
 the saddles, bridles, old saddle-blankets, ropes, and 
 other horse gear piled up in an orderly way. Against 
 the wall was the table of Bud s manufacture, and on 
 it the tin plates, cups, knives, forks, and spoons were 
 arranged. Above it ran a long shelf hewn from a log 
 and fastened to the wall with big wooden pins. 
 
 On this were tins of baking powder, packages of 
 coffee, a bag of salt, a few boxes of cartridges, and 
 many other smaller things. At the two corners most 
 remote from the fire were two bunks made of poles, 
 and over the bottom of them thick layers of rye grass, 
 on which were the blankets; some old clothes at the 
 head for pillows completed the beds. A Winchester 
 resting on forked sticks, and dangling below it a cart 
 ridge-belt partly filled, hung over each bunk, and two 
 small shelves near by held little odds and ends. 
 Among these things on Zeb s shelf appeared a small 
 brown-covered Testament, a particularly treasured 
 thing it was, he often removing the dust from it with 
 great care and no little tenderness, though it lay
 
 88 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 thickly enough and unmolested on his sewing-bag and 
 some fish-lines and other things. Under one of the 
 bunks were drills and hammers, a gold-pan, and such 
 other articles as naturally gravitated to so convenient 
 and retired a place of storage. The last remaining cor 
 ner had in it the sacks in which was the stock of flour, 
 fast decreasing, and over it hung what was left of the 
 bacon ; it had been very sparingly used, the deer and elk 
 meat being in such plenty. The axe resting against 
 the wood pile completed the contents of the cabin. 
 The ruddy light from the fire, softening much that 
 was rude and meagre, threw around an air of comfort, 
 a sort of home look, over articles and surroundings, 
 that, as I describe them, seem so rough and common. 
 But on Christmas Eve a palace may be dreary in its 
 splendor a mountain log cabin cheery in its rude 
 ness. 
 
 When we pass out of childhood we leave illusions 
 whose memories, recurring to us as holidays come, give 
 us an uncertain pleasure, tinged with a certain melan 
 choly ; our minds, in spite of us, go back to the times 
 when life was young in us, and the world we have 
 since found made up of so much shade and sunshine 
 was all bright without a shadow. 
 
 "With years come the experiences that leave gashes 
 and ruts in our hearts. "What we have gained and 
 what we have lost strike a balance, and most of us find 
 it heavily on the wrong side. The closer we keep to 
 our childish faith, the simpler lives we lead, the less 
 do we feel all this. Zeb was like a child in many 
 ways, with a heart so kindly and so cheery that the 
 demands he felt made on his good spirits by Christ 
 mas times he could easily respond to. Bud, not half
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 89 
 
 his age, could not so readily come under the spirit of 
 the time; there was so sharp a contrast between this 
 Christmas Eve and others he had passed, that he was 
 sad and moody. Many a cheerful remark of the old 
 man could not dissipate his gloom. 
 
 " Bud, let me tell ye somethin ," he said. " There 
 are some folks that, when they has the least show in 
 the world, is always thinking about somethin that s 
 gone, or hain t gone to their notion, and the more 
 miserable and onery the thing is, the more they think 
 and gits to feel luck is agin em. If things had gone so 
 and so, they d be rich, or they d be this or that. 
 
 " Did ye ever think what cussed foolishness that is, 
 Bud ? If a thing s gone, it s gone, vamoosed, that s 
 the end on it; ye can t bring it back, and ten to one 
 if ye could, ye d be worse off than ye are. When a 
 thing s gone, let it go. Ye ll hear a man say, If 
 this one or that one had been eddicated, what a man 
 he would be President may be ; or if he had some 
 one to help, how rich he would be, and so on. All 
 foolishness. If ye got a head to be President, yer 
 a-going to get the eddication. There was old Johnson ; 
 after he was married, his wife taught him his letters, 
 but he got there, didn t he? And all the rich men I 
 ever heer d on made the riffle cause perhaps they was 
 spryer on the trail after a dollar, or meaner or 
 smarter, or somethin else, than other men. I m goin 
 to be old Zeb long as I live. "Why ? Cause it ain t 
 in me to be nothing but old Zeb. I hope I m squar, 
 and I hope I m white; and if I am, that s all I am 
 or going to be. Yer a young man, Bud ; I see p ints in 
 ye. Yer eddicated, and Lord knows what yer going to 
 be, but ye ll be just what ye make yerseli. There s
 
 90 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 no roads, there s no trails, there s no animals to carry 
 ye into the time that s to come. 
 
 " Ye ve just got to hoof it along yerself, and so be if 
 ye ve got the wind and the savvy, and don t get off on 
 no blind trails, thinking ye see a road where they ain t 
 none, ye ll make it. If yer kind of lame and spavined 
 and foundered, and hain t got the right sense, ye ll 
 be a-plugging long just as I am, just as I aways will 
 be, and if yer always a-thinking if I d turned off 
 here or gone that way or the other, I d have been all 
 right, ye ll make yerself miserable when ye might be 
 right peart and comfortable. 
 
 " There are some things happened to me, Bud, and 
 for one thing I wish I was rich, God knows I do, 
 cause I ve got use for money. Ye wouldn t think it, 
 Bud, but I has. Here I am, sixty come March. Ain t 
 I healthy ? I m poor, but I hain t got no great weight 
 on my conscience. I ve got grub and a good cabin, 
 and ain t I happy? Don t I feelgood? I ve got a 
 good pardner and half of a good claim. That claim 
 will make us money; I know twill, Bud, I know 
 twill. And there ye are, young and strong and hearty, 
 and ye ve got a cabin and grub, and ye ve got half of 
 a good claim. 
 
 " Yes, Zeb, and the best partner a man ever had," 
 said Bud, for there was no resisting Zeb s kind voice 
 and his way. 
 
 "I m going to do somethin , Bud. Yank always 
 did it on a Christmas Eve, and I ve seen it done at 
 posts and in towns and in camp, and when I m alone 
 I always do it on Christmas Eve. I ve done it with 
 whiskey, and I ve done it with only water, and I ve 
 done it with wine, and now I m going to do it with
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 91 
 
 tea; that s a woman s drink, and so it s right fit. I ve 
 got a little tea in my sewing-bag, I ve been a-saving 
 of it ; " and the old man going up to his bag drew from 
 it a little canvas pouch, and poured from it a little 
 tea into his hand, and putting it into the coffee can 
 after cleaning it, and heating some water in it, the 
 brew was made. 
 
 "We ought to have sugar to put in it," he said, 
 " but as we hain t none, we ll have to sweeten it from 
 our hearts," as he poured the infusion into two tin 
 cups, one for Bud and one for himself. 
 
 With something unusual in his firm, clear voice, he 
 gave the old toast, "Sweethearts and wives, God 
 bless em!" and the cups were drained. "Not that 
 I ve got any to count, but other men has, and I say 
 again, God bless em! " he added. 
 
 Where men of English speech, on land or sea, up in 
 the Arctics, along the Equator, in peril or in peace, 
 were gathered away from home and those they loved, 
 went up that night that same old toast, as for hun 
 dreds of years before it has gone, and God grant for 
 hundreds of years yet it may go. It has risen amidst 
 creaking of masts and snapping of cordage, death 
 knocking at the door, with great waves of every sea 
 that on a Christmas Eve has tossed our fathers. 
 
 With "the shouts of them that triumph, and the 
 song of them that feast," with the wail of defeat, and 
 amidst the pangs of famine, has the old toast had its 
 place. "Sweethearts and wives, God bless them!" 
 No more heartfelt prayer was ever made than those 
 words have borne from the millions who have uttered 
 them. 
 
 There was a touch of dignity in old Zeb s manner
 
 92 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 as he did this, a fervidness in the spoken words that 
 impressed Bud. It seemed to open to him something 
 new in the old mountaineer. He had been struck at 
 times before with some such feeling; but there was 
 something in the way he gave the toast, something in 
 his giving it at all, something in the tremor of his 
 voice he had never heard quaver before, that was new 
 to him and increased the desire he had long had to 
 know more of this man, who evidently had a history. 
 
 Zeb was now quite in the mood for Christmas Eve; 
 he was full of hearty mirth, and his mind and talk ran 
 from Mexico to Alaska, and back to his childhood in 
 Indiana, and how this and that Christmas was passed. 
 He was sleigh-riding with the boys and girls, compan 
 ions of his youth ; he was at a fandango in Mexico ; 
 he was at a ball in Hangtown; and he related with 
 great glee the story of a Christmas Eve with Yank at 
 the "Bay," as San Francisco is called by the old 
 timers. 
 
 The old fellow took great pleasure in getting off his 
 " Merry Christmas " to Bud next morning, long be 
 fore light, and in a voice that nearly lifted the roof 
 and awoke his partner. The Christmas dinner was a 
 grand success, and the duff was, Bud declared, the 
 best he ever ate. 
 
 The storm that had already raged so long was yet 
 furious, and the snow, piling up fast, was well up on 
 the roof of the little cabin. It was no easy thing to 
 shovel out the spring to get water, or to replenish the 
 supply of wood. But dinner was over, and wood and 
 water in. As they sat before the fire, it s light shone 
 brightly on a scar on Zeb s neck, and Bud asked him: 
 " How did you get that scar, Zeb ? "
 
 93 
 
 " Bullit," said the old man. 
 
 " But where and how did you get it ? " 
 
 " I got that down South, in the war. That one I 
 got at Atlanty. I was in the war and was hit. 
 
 "Why, Zeb, how did you get East? I thought 
 you were always out West here, until I heard you say 
 something once before about the war.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 " WELL, twas this way. "We uster have talk, Yank 
 and me, bout slavery. Yank s idee was that a nigger 
 was a man, and had a right to be free, and go where 
 he pleased, and do what he liked, Constitution or no 
 Constitution. The Constitution said all men was 
 born free and equal, and a nigger was a man, and that 
 was all there was bout it. Seemed reasonable, but 
 I was no nigger lover, and would have said right out 
 the Constitution says "all white men," but Yank 
 warn t no man to mistell a thing; and though I 
 thought it said all white men, I hadn t the nerve to 
 say so, af eered I might be wrong ; and course we was 
 where we couldn t see no one of them maps that hang 
 on the wall, picturs of the Presidents all around the 
 edges, and the Constitution printed in the middle. 
 
 " We was in Nevady, bout forty miles from Reese 
 River, in the winter of 60 and 61, and had a quartz 
 claim there, and was puttin in the winter sinking a 
 shaft. We got hold of two or three old papers that 
 winter, and things in the States looked bad ; hard talk 
 in Washington and bad blood all over the country. I 
 didn t like the way them South fellers talked. I was 
 Dimicrat. Dad was, and I was. But I ain t never 
 been one to crow and flop my wings when I was 
 licked; it s the other rooster s place to do that, and it s 
 his right, too.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 95 
 
 " As I sensed it all up, it ranged itself in my head 
 that the Dimicrats and the South put up a man or two 
 men for President, and the Republicans and the North 
 beat em, and their man was elected fair and square, 
 and twarn t no fair play for the Dimicrats and the 
 South to kick. Twas a fair fight and they was 
 licked; and it riled me, too, to have sich talk bout 
 the whole country, my country, being nothing but a 
 lot of States, every one it s own boss, no captin, 
 like a bunch of ranchers after Injuns, every one 
 going it on his own hook. 
 
 "There warn t no sense in the idee. Twas the 
 dangdest tomfoolery ever was, Bud. Then the South 
 ern fellers said one of em could lick five Northern men, 
 and the North wouldn t fight; and some feller said he 
 was going to call the roll of his slaves on Bunker Hill, 
 and I knew differnt. 
 
 "I was kinder on the fence like; born down in 
 Southern In jianny ; father and mother both come from 
 North Caroliny ; but perhaps because I was setting high 
 on the fence I could see both sides clearer than them 
 in either field could. I saw that the North they was 
 stubborn and didn t say much, and I knew there was 
 fight there; both sides were dead in earnist, and I 
 felt bad. 
 
 " Yank and I didn t say much; course we talked 
 bout other things, and each of us knew why we didn t 
 talk. I was kinder Southern in my feelings, and I 
 knew he was for the North straight. There was 
 never no time before we didn t say everything we 
 thought to each other. We worked together, and 
 course we talked bout the work and things of no ac 
 count, but I mean we never talked of the troubles, and
 
 96 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 both on us knew we were thinking bout them all the 
 time. "We both felt bad, but he was dead North and 
 I was kinder South. When we got a paper, we would 
 read it, and Yank would say, l That was a danged 
 smart thief, stole a man s watch from his pocket on 
 Sansome Street, while he was a-looking at a fire. And 
 I would say, I never see such a cussed year for rain ; 
 been a-raining all the time in Californy, cording to the 
 paper; but never a word bout all the news we saw, 
 that went clean to our toes as we read it. Somehow 
 we was kinder gettin apart, Yank an me, who had 
 been brothers, and I couldn t stand it. Yank was so 
 kind of soft like to me in all ways, and that went to 
 my heart, I kin tell ye. 
 
 " Grub was scarce with us; we had flour enuf, but 
 meat was scarce. Yank wouldn t eat no bacon; said 
 he was afeered of biles ; I knew he only did it so there 
 would be more for me. I couldn t stand it to see him 
 going it on only bread, for we didn t have no coffee, 
 nothing but flour and mighty little bacon. I wouldn t 
 eat the bacon, and Yank got mad, said it seemed as 
 if the devil was in me to try and drive him to eat 
 bacon, and be covered from head to foot with biles. 
 He d be damned if any man was going to force hog 
 .down him when the idee made him sick, and cavorted 
 and carried on so, I had to eat it. Ye couldn t do 
 nothing with Yank. And one night we had only a 
 couple of blankits each and twas cold. I was a-lay- 
 ing awake thinking of all the trouble I felt was 
 a-coming, and how Yank and I seemed to be getting 
 apart, shivering with the cold, too. I heered Yank 
 coming still to my bunk, and he put a blankit on me 
 softly, and I couldn t hold in no longer. What ye
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 97 
 
 doing, Yank? I said. I m so thundering hot, 
 says he, I was going to throw off this blankit, and I 
 thought ye might be cold, and I put it on ye; ye 
 warn t born in Maine, and ye feel the cold. 
 
 " I tried hard to make him take it back, and lied 
 to him, and said I was warm. 
 
 " How cussed contrary ye are getting, Zeb, he 
 said. "What s the matter with ye? Ye ain t yerself 
 any more; yer so dang peevish. 
 
 "He wouldn t hear to nothing, and so the blankit 
 stayed with me. If there was any hard end to the 
 work he would have it, and if I said anything he was 
 so short and cross, and so it went. 
 
 " One day he said to me something bout my work 
 ing in the summer, and I said, We ll see bout that 
 when the summer comes, and Yank says, I may 
 go East this summer. Haven t seen my folks for a 
 long time. He warn t thinking bout his folks, and I 
 knew it. 
 
 1 The winter went along, and every paper we see 
 things were gittin worse. All the talk of seceding 
 made me mad. 
 
 " Twas long in April, nigh the first of May, when 
 a man come by. We was both of us at the mouth of 
 the shaft, and the man said it was the story on the 
 outside that the South had fired on some government 
 forts down there, and that " Old Abe " had called for 
 volunteers to go and fight. Yank questioned him 
 quiet like bout it all, but the man didn t know more 
 and went on. 
 
 " Both on us knew twas all true. 
 
 " We was a-setting on a timber we was a-going to 
 let down the shaft. When the man was gone I see 
 7
 
 98 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 the fight was in Yank s eyes, and twas in my heart, 
 too. 
 
 " Yank put his hand on my knee. Zeb, said he, 
 this means me. "We ve been pardners through thick 
 and thin. I love ye, Zeb, but I must leave ye. Ye 
 has yer idees, I have mine. I m going to the States. 
 Uncle Sam has called for his men and I m a-going to 
 his call. My grandfather fit in the Revolution and 
 his father before him in the old French wars; my 
 father was with Commodore Porter in the Essex, and 
 when the Stars and Stripes are going to the fight it 
 ain t in my blood to stay behind if the President calls 
 for me to f oiler. I don t say nothing, Zeb, bout 
 what s right or what s wrong, God knows. I only 
 think I know. The fight is on; it s my President that 
 calls me to go, and I am a-going. Ye are sort of 
 Southern, Zeb, and ye don t see things as I see em; 
 and, old man, it s hard to leave ye, but I m a-going. 
 I give ye all my interest in what we ve got, and all 
 good be with ye, Zeb. 
 
 I warn t never mad with Yank afore, but then I 
 was, and I said, Yank, I m going too. It s my 
 country and my flag, and my President calls, and he 
 don t call twice for me, if I am from Injianny nigh 
 the river. Ye had it in yer mind, though ye didn t 
 say it, that I was going to shirk this fight me, 
 Yank, me, who ye ought to know by this time. I ve 
 got my pride, if I am from Injianny, and I tell ye Inji 
 anny will be in it same as Maine. Damn it, Yank, this 
 is my country, same as it s yours, and we ll go to 
 gether, pardners, same as we ve always been. Don t 
 ye think I ve got no feelings, Yank ? I claim to be a 
 man, and I m ready to do a man s work. I see the work,
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 99 
 
 and I m going to do it. Ye ve hurt me, Yank, I said; 
 ye ve hurt me, me who ye have been pardner with 
 so long. Did ye think I was going to be a woman 
 when twas time to be a man? Shame on ye for it. 
 
 " With that, Yank jumped up and swore and hugged 
 me. 
 
 " Why, Zeb, he says, it s been on my mind all 
 winter that ye were for the South and I ve rasseled 
 with the idee at night, and I thought, " Zeb s a man 
 and he has his notions, and it ain t for one man to argy 
 with another bout sich a thing, it is or it isn t; a man 
 has a mind made up, he s going to do what he thinks 
 is the squar thing to do, and it s no thing to talk," 
 but I thought ye were for the South. 
 
 " The South be damned, says I, and the North, 
 too; I m for the country, and the old flag. 
 
 " Yank was like a boy, he was so glad, and he said: 
 
 " Them Southern fellers say that one on em can 
 lick five on us. Well, if one on em tackle us both and 
 licks us, twill surprise me like hell ; and he laffed, 
 and I did too, for I knew it would take a mighty good 
 man to lick Yank single-handed, and with me on the 
 outside to help, I didn t believe we d ever find the 
 man could do it. We was all so glad to be all friends 
 agin same as before. 
 
 " Yank said, We ll quit this dang hole now, and 
 we did. We dropped the tools right there, and for 
 all I know they re there now. We got up the bosses, 
 we had one each, and two pack-hosses. There 
 warn t no railroad then, and if there had been we 
 hadn t no money, and we made it up we d cross the 
 plains to lowy, and inlist in the first place we could. 
 We had only a little grub, and we didn t know how
 
 100 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 we d make it so far; we reckoned, then it was bout 
 the first of May, we could make lowy by August, but 
 how was we to get grub ? 
 
 "We talked all over and didn t see noway. At 
 last, Yank, he says, Dang it, Zeb, we ve got the call, 
 and we ain t going to hang back cause we ain t got 
 grub. We hain t no money to go by sea, and it s a 
 long pull to the "Bay," anyway; we ve got to go 
 cross the plains. We ll go on what grub we ve got, 
 and take chances on getting more. Next morning 
 we packed up and started. 
 
 " It s an all-fired ride to the States. We was in a 
 hurry to git there, and the time seemed longer than 
 it was. We made it though ; got to lowy. 
 
 We come into a little town on foot. We d swapped 
 off the outfit for grub on the way, from time to time ; 
 a hoss here and another one there, and one died, and 
 our guns had to go, too. It was nigh September, and, 
 as I said, we come into a little place in lowy on foot, 
 hungry and ragged and pretty well beat out. An old 
 man was standing at the gate of one of them little 
 white houses with a white fence round it, grass and 
 sun-flowers and hollyhocks in the yard, and a trail 
 through the grass to the door, straight as a gun-barrel. 
 
 " Ye look like ye was used up, said the old man. 
 Yes, said Yank, ye ve hit the bull s eye, uncle. 
 We ve come a long way to go for soldiers, and we 
 want to know where we can jine. 
 
 At that the old man made us come in, and drew 
 a big bottle on us, and we must drink, and then we 
 must eat, and we must stay with him over night, and 
 his old woman well, she was that kind we must eat 
 this and that, and she wouldn t take no back talk
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 101 
 
 from us. She told us how she had three boys in the 
 army, and read us a letter that come that day from 
 one. 
 
 " There was going to be a meeting that night, and 
 speaking a Union meeting, they called it and there 
 was a rigiment of men raising, and at the meeting 
 volunteers could go up and sign, and the old man said 
 there would be a fine lot of boys in it, and that the 
 kernel was a man he knew, and he was going to be 
 there, and he was a good man, but he thought he was 
 too quiet like to be much of a fighter. 
 
 " So when we had washed up and had supper, we 
 went with the old folks into the village. We was 
 kind of shamed, for we looked like the devil; ragged 
 we was, and our buckskin shirts pretty black, but we 
 warn t dirty, for we were bound to sign with clean 
 hands, anyway. As we went down the street there 
 was a band a-playin in front of a church, and into 
 it we went with a lot of folks who looked at us like 
 we was Injuns. Pretty soon ye couldn t get a card 
 in edgewise, the house was that full. A parson 
 prayed, and then some men spoke all about how the 
 Union must be kept solid, and asking the young men 
 to jine the company that was making up in the village, 
 and every once in a while the band would play 
 Yankee Doodle, and The Star Spangled Banner, 
 and some young gals, putty as picturs, sang war songs, 
 and it all made the blood come and go, I tell ye, Bud. 
 
 " Then a little man got up and said how he was to 
 be the kernel of the rigiment; and while he warn t 
 much of a talker, his heart was in the fight and he 
 meant to be as good a soldier as it was in him to be. 
 I took to the feller right off. I see he was a man, if he
 
 102 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 was small ; and Yank he chucked me and says, He s 
 our man, Zeb. 
 
 11 Yank knew a man when he saw one, and he sized 
 the little feller up then, and I tell ye he sized him up 
 right, too. But everybody was kind of sneering at 
 the man, and a feller behind says in a low voice, That 
 little cuss is no good. Looks like he d run better than 
 he d fight. 
 
 " If that s your idee, it ain t mine, Yank said to 
 him. 
 
 " Then they put a big paper on a little table that 
 was under the pulpit, and the kernel says, Who s 
 the first man to put his name down for his country ? 
 
 " I am, says Yank, and my pardner, Zeb, he s 
 with me, and up he goes with me and down we put 
 our names on the papers. 
 
 " Where are ye from ? says the kernel. 
 
 " l We ve come from Nevady, says Yank. 
 
 " How d ye get here? says the kernel. 
 
 " We heer d the call and we saddled up and come/ 
 says Yank. 
 
 " What, says the kernel, ye rode on hossback 
 two thousand miles, to inlist ? 
 
 " Yes, says Yank. We rode and we hoofed it. 
 We know we re strangers, but ye ll find we ve come 
 for business. No better man ever stood than Zeb, 
 here, my pardner, and I ll try and keep up with him. 
 
 " I was shamed to hear Yank say so bout me, 
 and I said, Yank s a better man nor me. Why, 
 Yank there ain t no more sandier man in all the 
 world than him. We ll do our duty, both on us, to the 
 country and to the flag. Ye don t know us, but try us. 
 
 Then, says the kernel, here are two men that
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 103 
 
 heer d the call in the desert, and they ve come two 
 thousand miles to inlist. Come, boys, show them that 
 there are men in lowy, too. 
 
 " That s all he said, but the way he said it beat all 
 the speeches that was made, and the young men rose 
 up all over the church, and come up and put their 
 names down, and there was nigh to sixty come up, 
 but the kernel says, That ain t enough. I won t 
 leave here this night till the roll has a hundred names 
 on it. 
 
 "Then up gits the parson, and a gritty, young- 
 looking fellow he was, and he says, There s a time 
 for men to preach and there comes a time for men to 
 fight. The call of the country, that two thousand miles 
 away, beyond the plains and the mountains these men 
 heer d, has been sounding in my heart for months, 
 and to-night I answer, " Yes, Father Abraham, I m 
 a-coming, and up he goes and signs the roll. 
 
 I thought the church would bust with the cheer 
 ing, and men went up two or three at a time and 
 signed, and the men cheered, and women were a-cry- 
 ing, and in ten minutes the roll was full and more a 
 hundred and seven names. 
 
 "It warn t many days afore the rigiment was a 
 full thousand men strong. The parson was made 
 captin of the company we was in, and the kernel 
 he says to Yank, What can I do for you, Yank ? 
 and Yank says, Kernel, I wants to carry the flag 
 and I want Zeb with me, and Zeb and I ll carry her 
 where she s got to go, and we ll stay with her. So 
 the kernel he made Yank color-sargeant and puts me 
 in the color-guard so as to be near him. 
 
 "I always thought the Stars and Stripes made a
 
 104 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 fine show. I knew it was my country s flag and my 
 flag, but bless ye, Bud, 1 didn t know nothing afore 
 bout what that flag is, and what it means, and how a 
 man gets to love it and be proud to his death of it; 
 how it comes to mean everything ; how it stands for 
 everything a man loves; how it is a man s pride and 
 his glory. His father and his grandfather and so 
 back had it for their flag; all on em lived under 
 it, some on em fought under it, some on em died 
 under it. 
 
 " "When ye were a small boy it meant trainings and 
 fairs, and Fourth of July, and everything that was 
 out of the common run. There never was no jollifica 
 tion that ye didn t see it a- waving overhead; round 
 the fire at night yer father told ye bout the last war, 
 and ye could see in yer little cub mind the flag a-flyin , 
 and hear the drums and fifes a-playin , as yer father, 
 long with all the rest, charged the Britishers at 
 Lundy s Lane or held the cotton bales agin em at 
 New Orleans ; or yer old grandfather made the tears 
 come in yer little eyes as he told how, when he was a 
 boy, at Valley Forge, in cold and starvation, his 
 frozen feet and hungry belly was warm and full when 
 day come, and he could see the flag a- waving; and 
 yer little heart got big as he told the story how at 
 Yorktown the men who come to fight us marched 
 prisoners before the Stars and Stripes, saluting of em. 
 Ye began to be a man then, and the flag come to 
 mean something. 
 
 " But ye don t know nothing bout it, Bud, till ye 
 foller it; ye gits to love it. It ain t a pretty piece 
 of cloth, the totem of yer tribe, it s all there is of 
 everything; it s country, it s memry, it s hope. All
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 105 
 
 that s good and squar in ye comes to love it. Yer 
 wet and tired and hungry a-f ollering of it ; ye lose yer 
 blood and yer life for it and it s all a pleasure. 
 
 " It s a-waving in the air so much cloth at so much 
 a yard ; it lies in yer heart, all the gold and the silver in 
 the mountains ; all the ships on the sea ; all the farms, 
 and the towns ; and all the sweat and blood of them 
 that s dead and gone, the joy and pride of them alive, 
 the hope and cheer of them to come. 
 
 u Well, Yank, he carried the flag, and I was with 
 him, with a few as fit men as ye ever see to guard it. 
 
 " Our company was C Company, and the colors is 
 always nigh C Company, so all our boys as we were 
 in line was long side. 
 
 "The parson who we made captin was a fine, 
 straight young man. He was like an egg, the white 
 all mild and pious and good, and the yelk all fight. 
 Dang d if I hain t thought a heap of parsons since 
 I knew him. He d preach like Billy be damn d and 
 fight like hell the same day; he was an all round 
 man, I tell ye, but all through he stuck to his trade, as 
 I likes to see a man do ; never no swearing. I never 
 could see how he did it; it s such a real comfort to 
 cuss sometimes and it comes so nateral to a man. 
 
 "Well, we was sent down into Kentucky and into 
 Tennessee; we marched a many miles and had many 
 tight fights, and Yank was hit a couple of times, and 
 I, too, light like, nothing to count. We was at Pitts 
 burgh Landing and all them fights, and we was proud 
 of the fellows we was with. The kernel he was a 
 fighter from way back, though he was so small and 
 quiet, and the captin the parson there warn t no 
 nervier man, and all the boys stood right into the col-
 
 106 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 lar. They all got to know Tank, and nobody warn t 
 afeer d bout the flag being carried by a man. 
 
 "Yank was one of them men who put his whole 
 body, head, belly, and boots into anything he did; 
 a-prospecting, a-hunting, a-playin a game, going to 
 preachings, twas all the same, and he was all in that 
 war. He didn t talk nothing else, he didn t think 
 nothing else. 
 
 " What come hard to me was to be ordered here and 
 there, and be under somebody all the time, but that 
 didn t faze Yank a bit. 
 
 " Zeb, he used to say, ye must get the right 
 savvy of this business. A ship has a captin and she 
 has mates, and in some ships some on em are poor 
 men. Ye know yer a better man nor them, but ye ve 
 got to obey orders; ye ain t sailin the ship, yer just 
 doing what yer told to do, that s yer business. It s 
 the same here; I do my business, and ye do yours, 
 and it don t consarn ye, nor I, nothing else. 
 
 " All his idee was the flag, and we all see it, and 
 twas our idee too. 
 
 " So it went along, marching and fighting, big fights 
 and little ones, long marches and short ones, till it 
 come we were under General Thomas at Chattanoogy. 
 There was a sizable hill and the Johnnies was on the 
 hill. In the morning when we come up to the ker 
 nel s tent to get the colors, the kernel himself come 
 out and give the flag to Yank, and he says, It s 
 going to be a hot day, and please God we ll have the 
 colors top o the hill fore night. 
 
 " If there s a show, the flag will be there all right, 
 Kernel; Zeb, he ll carry it there, if I don t, says 
 Yank.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 107 
 
 " We mayn t either of us git there, but the rigi- 
 mint will, Yank, says the kernel ; I feel it some 
 how. 
 
 " I hain t no other idee, says Yank. 
 
 I never was so afore. I looked at Yank, and he 
 looked kind o strange, and I felt something was a-com- 
 ing. We had it all put up from the first day Yank car 
 ried the flag. Says he to me : When I drop, Zeb, you 
 take the flag ; if ye leave me a-dyin the flag must go on. 
 If ye ve got anything to say, " Good-by " or " God 
 bless ye, say it now ; for if I drop, the flag must go, 
 mind that, Zeb. I d die a-cussing ye if ye stopped a 
 second for me. Yer my pardner dang it, Zeb, yer my 
 brother and man to man I want ye to say after me 
 these words: " When ye, Yank, drops and can t go on 
 or hold up the flag, I ll take it and go on. If I see yer 
 dying I won t stop to say a word or nothing. I ll 
 take the flag and leave 3^6 where ye lie. I ll carry it 
 and guard it, and die with it if so be I must. So help 
 me God Almighty!" Hold up yer right hand, he 
 says, and say them very words after me. 
 
 " Oh, Yank, I said, I couldn t leave ye so, I 
 couldn t. I, yer long pardner. 
 
 " What, says Yank, and them gray eyes of his 
 looked like a cougar s in the dark, and his voice was so 
 hard and changed ; ye d go agin me when I was 
 a-dyin ? Ye d refuse to give me comfort at such a 
 time? Ye d have me go afore God a-cussin ye? 
 Ye d leave the flag, my flag, to any one else, or a-lay- 
 ing on the ground where I dropped it, while ye 
 played the baby with me? Ain t there any man in 
 ye, Zeb ? Ain t there any friend in ye, Zeb ? Ain t 
 there any pride in ye for me ? When I asked for to
 
 108 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 carry this flag, twas because I thought I had a man 
 that would take it when my hands couldn t hold it no 
 longer; that, if so be I was a-dyin , my eyes would 
 see him going on with it. Didn t we go into this 
 fight cause we felt it was a duty and we must ? The 
 man that s got the flag he s got his duty to do to his 
 country; the flag has got to be carried, and the man 
 who carries it can t stop to palaver over nobody s 
 carkiss. 
 
 " t Oh, Yank, I said, I sees my duty, and I ll do 
 it, but twould come rough the way ye put it. 
 
 " Yer a man, Yank said, and yer a woman, but 
 I know ye; say them words. And I held up my 
 right hand and said the words after him. 
 
 " When we first got into fights, I was afeered for 
 Yank, but we had been in a many of em, and only 
 two shots had hit him, and only one, me, and all on 
 em no count, much more nor scratches, and some 
 how my fear bout him had got over; but that morn 
 ing I felt something was a-coming. 
 
 " We didn t have much to do all morning, drawn up 
 in a line to go in, and waiting orders. The battle had 
 been going on for a couple of hours; we could see 
 some of it and hear more, for the firing was heavy to 
 the right of us, and the cannons was a-roaring. 
 
 " We was standing there and lying on the ground, 
 Yank and me a-smoking. The kernel had rode the 
 line talking to the captins, and he come where we 
 was. 
 
 " Yank, he says, ( and ye too, Zeb, I ve mentioned 
 ye both in reports, but I never did tell ye what I 
 couldn t say then, and what I have wanted to say to 
 ye both for a long time. Ye did more to raise this
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 109 
 
 rigiment than I did, and all along ye have been good 
 men, and I have to thank ye both. It isn t my fault, 
 Yank, that yer not a commissioned officer, and 
 twas so ; for twice he had Yank to be an officer, but 
 Yank wouldn t have it; his idee was all to carry the 
 flag. We was proud to hear the kernel say that, for 
 he warn t no man to talk. 
 
 "We was a-smoking when a young officer come 
 a-riding up and says something to the kernel, and 
 the order come sharp to the rigiment, putting us into 
 column, and we marched up over a rise of ground and 
 past some woods where we could see the hill, Mis 
 sionary Ridge was the name of it. Yank took the 
 pipe from his mouth, a short clay pipe it was, and 
 give it to me. Keep that, Zeb, he said, and I put 
 it in my pocket. It s in my bag now," the old man 
 said. " I ve kept it. We could see the hill all spotted 
 here and there with rigimints and brigades, some high 
 up and some low down, and the smoke coming from 
 their guns on both sides. The trees hid what was going 
 on in places, and then there would be clearings where 
 we could see putty good. 
 
 " The Johnnies had two or three lines of earthworks, 
 and the fighting was a-going on where the lower line 
 was mostly, but in one place we could see the lower 
 line was carried, and our boys was up agin the next 
 one. 
 
 " The other rigimints of our brigade had come up, 
 and we was put in line agin, and right in front of us, 
 and perhaps a half a mile away, the hill began to rise 
 up sharp, and along the steep side we could see two 
 lines of dirt where the rifle-pits was, and behind em 
 we could see the tops of the baynits and the flag-
 
 110 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 staffs of the men behind, when the sun came through 
 the clouds to shine on em. Everywhere else, cept op 
 posite where we was, we could see either the men or 
 the smoke they made, but there warn t no smoke or 
 show of fight in front of us. It was our place. 
 
 "Well, as I said, the line was formed, and pretty 
 soon the orders come to go ahead, and we marched 
 toward the hill. The cannons was a-firing, but they 
 didn t do much harm; ye can t catch the range on a 
 cannon like ye can on a rifle. 
 
 "We come up to the front of the hill in good 
 shape, and then they halted us a bit to take breath 
 and to straighten the line. 
 
 " The hill above us was steep, and the rifle-pits we 
 could see here and there the lines of between the trees, 
 seemed right over us; and when we could see them at 
 all, there was the Johnnies back of em, with their gun- 
 barrels slanting down at us, and specially where we 
 was a-going there was a clear strip of ground clean up 
 to the pits ; not a tree, hardly a bush a rabbit could get 
 behind. I never see no sich place for men to go agin. 
 Yank, he says to me, Zeb, mind what ye swore to, 
 and if I don t get the flag to the top ye will. I ll 
 keep my word, Yank, says I, but we ll get there 
 together, or it s as like I ll drop as will ye. 
 
 " I hadn t much idee we d either of us get there, it 
 was such a dang tough place. 
 
 " The kernel he see how it was, and tried how he 
 could manage it to get us to each side of the clear 
 strip, but there warn t room. The other rigiments 
 were up agin ours on either end of our line, and there 
 warn t no time; for while he was a-studying on it 
 come the order to forward up the hill.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 111 
 
 " The kernel took his place just behind the color- 
 guard, and most of C Company and the next was in 
 the clear strip, and we with the colors bout in the 
 middle of it. 
 
 " In the picturs ye see of battles, Bud, ye ll always 
 see the gineral or the kernel a-riding on ahead and 
 a-waving of his sword and a-calling to the men to 
 come on. The fellers who made them picturs don t 
 know nothing. The officers place is behind the men, 
 and it s right and proper it s so. When it gets hot 
 and mixed a bit, the officers is sometimes ahead ; but 
 when the thing goes on right, the men are in front and 
 every officer has his place behind. 
 
 "We d gone up the hill till we was, say, bout 
 three hundred yards from the Johnnies behind the pits ; 
 it was hard climbing, enough to blow us a little, and 
 the drums and fifes stopped playing, and ye only heer d 
 the officers a-saying, Close up, close up, and trying 
 to keep the line straight. 
 
 We was expecting hell would pop every second, 
 but it didn t. As we was bout three hundred yards 
 or so from em, as I say, we heer d the officers a-call 
 ing to the Johnnies, and up they got and let us have it, 
 but though it knocked many a feller, it warn t so bad, 
 we was so under em like. Then comes the order to 
 Charge, and at the hill we went, the shots coming 
 down on us like hail stones and the men a-falling 
 fast. I see Yank drop his arm like, and I said, yer 
 hit. 
 
 " Tain t nothing, he says, didn t hit no bone. 
 Just then come the order from the kernel to Fire, and 
 we picked em off the top of the rifle-pits like they was 
 crows on a fence. Then it was Load again. * Hold
 
 112 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 yer fire, he says to our company; and the next, Let 
 no man fire till he gets the order; but the other com 
 panies was a-putting in the lead fast as they could. 
 
 "We d got up to, say, sixty or seventy yards, perhaps 
 the half on us was left, and there was some rocks in a 
 line; twas like an old fence, and the ground kind of 
 sheltered us a little. We was halted there and dropped 
 to what cover we could find. The breath was pretty 
 well out of us and we was a-ketching of it again. 
 
 "Yank was a-bleeding and I put a handkerchief 
 round his arm. I could see the ground behind us 
 spotted with men down and dead. The kernel s horse 
 was dead, and he a- walking and a-resting nigh us 
 behind a rock. He crawled out a bit, and he says, 
 See yer all loaded and we ll go over the pits next trip. 
 Yank, he says, when we charge, do ye go over the 
 pits and we ll all be with ye. 
 
 1 I could see the ends of the rigiment was close on 
 to the pits on both sides of us, but there was nothing 
 but grass between us and the Johnnies, and right 
 straight up it was. We d a-rested two or three min 
 utes or so, the bullets a-cracking agin the rocks and 
 picking a man now and then who couldn t cover. 
 ( Zeb, says Yank, to me, there s a rock a little to 
 the left on us nigh the pits, and there the earth ain t 
 thrown so high; I ll make for that and ye all rush 
 over with me. 
 
 " There was only three of the color-guard left, but 
 twas all the same. Nigh us was Jim Jackson and Dan 
 Finder and a lot of other sandy men. I passed the 
 word to em and the others, and the captin he d 
 wormed long till he was with us he passed the word 
 to the company to head for that pint in the rifle-pits.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 113 
 
 Then come the kernel s voice sharp and loud, and we 
 stood up in front of the rock and got into line a-cheer- 
 ing. Up rose the Johnnies for a volley at us, and we 
 pulled trigger at the kernel s Fire. 
 
 "Lord, how we downed em! Forward, double 
 quick, charge ! cried the kernel, and we went for 
 em on the run, but they kept a-giving it to us quick 
 and hot. Jackson dropped, and Finder s brains spurted 
 in my face, but we made the rock and got on to the 
 top of the earthwork. Then the Johnnies come hand 
 to hand with us. The captin and the kernel and may 
 be a dozen more was there, but we couldn t budge the 
 solid line of men, and we was a-dropping fast. There 
 warn t no time to load twas hand to hand. The 
 captin and the kernel s sword was everywhere; my 
 baynit I broke in a man s breast. The kernel fell, 
 shot in the head. Yank planted the colors behind 
 him in the soft ground, and caught up Billy Lee s gun 
 when he was run through, and he and me we cleared 
 the spot round us with our muskits. We swung em 
 like they was clubs. Yank was a stout man and I was 
 fair, and many a time the heads would crack when 
 we brought the gun-barrels down on em. Twarn t a 
 minute, but I see the captin run through, and Yank 
 and I was alone. 
 
 " Give em hell, Zeb! he cried, and I never see no 
 man like him then. His eyes was a-blazing, the flag 
 behind him, and his back agin the staff. He got a 
 shot in the leg, and he had to drop on his knees. I 
 caught it in the neck and another in my shoulder, and 
 a baynit pricked me in the side, but still we kept 
 em off. 
 
 " A big feller had been a- working closer to us, a 
 8
 
 114 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 long-haired cuss, and he whips out a six-shooter and 
 p ints it at Yank. There was a man on me, but I 
 caught him with the heel of the gun, and I brought 
 the barrel down on the long-haired feller and smashed 
 his head in, but twas too late, Bud, twas too late; 
 his gun went off and took Yank in the head. 
 
 " The flag, Zeb, he said, and he was gone. I 
 warn t no man, then, I was a devil. I knew our fel 
 lers begun a-getting up to me. I can t member no 
 more, but they said I caught up the flag and jumped 
 agin the Johnnies like a cougar from a tree. Where 
 we was though twarn t no time, I spose, we was on 
 the top was the only place in the line that warn t car 
 ried, and when our boys had got both sides they closed 
 down on the place, and so just as I took the flag, 
 they come in like bees and dro\ T e the crowd agin us 
 a-surging up the hill. But I was after em, and all 
 was, and up we went agin the next line, and I over 
 it and the boys a-follerin ; all I knew was, I was a 
 carryin of the flag. I got on top with the flag, 
 Yank s flag, and then I dropped. 
 
 " Twas a great battle, and there was lots like me, 
 a- wounded, and I come to in a big hospitil tent. I 
 put out my hand a-f eeling for Yank we always slept 
 under the same blankits. l Yank, I called, and the 
 doctor of my rigiment he was nigh, and he sot down 
 on the bed, and, Zeb, he says, Yank s gone out. 
 
 " Then it all come to me, and I says, Out of the 
 world ; he s gone to heaven. And I was that weak I 
 cried like a baby; but he give me some stuff and I 
 dozed off. I come to myself right in a day or so more, 
 and I knew I d have to go it alone. Yank was gone. 
 I didn t care to live, first off, and then the idee come
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 115 
 
 to me how I was kinder to carry out Yank s notions, 
 and I spruced up. Yes, Yank, I said, I ll see the 
 thing through, and I won t be easy till the flag that 
 was yer pride has it s own agin. 
 
 "There was lots of the boys round me. The 
 captin was two or three beds away, a-gitting on right 
 smart, and he told me how it all was. 
 
 " The major come in and he said, as how the rigi- 
 ment was cut up, we was a-going into camp till we 
 got some more boys down from lowy to take the 
 places of them that was killed. They was all kind to 
 me, and one day the gineral he come in and he come 
 down the line of beds. 
 
 " Where s Zeb ? he says, and comes up to me so 
 sociable, and he talked like I was an officer, and calls 
 me looytennant. I m only a corporal, Gineral, I 
 says. Yer a looytennant, he says. I sent in yer 
 name when I see ye top of the ridge with the flag. 
 The tears come in my eyes. 
 
 " Gineral, I says, it s kind of yer, and I feel it, 
 I do, but I want to carry the flag ; and I told him 
 how Yank and me was old pardners, and how his idee 
 was all to carry the flag, and how he kinder left it to 
 me to carry when he was gone, and that I wanted to 
 carry it, if he d let me, and he swore, and says: Zeb, 
 ye shall. No man shall ever carry that flag so long as 
 you kin, but you ; and he took my hand and he says, 
 Such men as you and yer pardner make a country 
 great. Yes, he said that. Lord, says I, Gineral, 
 I didn t do nothing. After Yank was gone I was 
 wild, and I didn t know nothing. 
 
 " Well, he says, it s wild men like you who 
 make us ginirals lots of glory we don t desarve ; and
 
 116 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 he took my hand, and he come agin two or three 
 times, and we was mighty friendly. Dang d if he 
 didn t send me grub and cigars till ye couldn t rest. 
 
 " After a while I was all right, and went back to 
 the rigiment, and they give me the flag to carry. 
 Lord, how I loved it! Twas all torn with bullits and 
 the staff was nicked here and there, and I remembred 
 one of them nicks well, but the cuss that made it, I see 
 the kernel twas the last thing he did afore he was 
 killed cut him down with his sword through the 
 skull. 
 
 " I carried the flag all the war. I was hit agin, 
 but not so bad as to have to drop it. I carried it with 
 Sherman on the March to the Sea, and I carried it 
 before the President at the Great Review in Washing 
 ton; and when I left it, I cut a piece from it I asked 
 the giniral, and he said I might that s in the buckskin 
 sack I ve got. How I hated to leave it, count of 
 Yank ! But Lord, twarn t that identical piece of cloth 
 he was stuck on, twas all on em; that was Yank s 
 idee."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE great storm which had closed the old and opened 
 the new year had been succeeded by clear and beauti 
 ful weather, and all through January and into Febru 
 ary no snow fell, and so vigorously had work been 
 carried on, that the cut was now nearly under the 
 shaft. The pans of gravel that were daily, and of 
 late several times a day, tried, began to show even 
 more gold than before. One morning, Zeb, who was 
 at work in the face of the cut, struck his pick on some 
 thing which he thought he recognized, and quickly 
 scooping out with his shovel the dirt his pick loosened, 
 he made a little hole. Bud, who was wheeling as he 
 broke down the gravel, had just come up with the 
 empty wheelbarrow. 
 
 "Bed-rock, Bud, bed-rock," cried the old man, as 
 between his fingers and thumb he felt of a gray soft 
 substance on the end of his shovel; " and look at it, 
 see the gold in it. That s it, Bud. We ve made the 
 riffle at last." 
 
 Bud saw the gray matter sprinkled with little grains 
 of gold, and put the shovel on the ground, with his 
 finger poking its contents. " Here s big gold, Zeb," 
 as a piece the size of a ten -cent piece struck his eye, 
 and turning with it in his hand, he saw Zeb sitting on 
 the wheelbarrow, with his head in his hands, very 
 still. " Zeb, old man," he said, catching at him, " we 
 have it; we have it."
 
 118 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 Yes, Bud, said Zeb, we have it, G od be thanked ! 
 It s struck me all of a heap. I ve been in Injianny, 
 Bud. Never do ye doubt them signs agin; it s awful 
 to do it. I see that bear and them cubs where I see 
 that bed-rock. Let this be a lesson to ye, Bud. God 
 works in a mysterious way his wonders to perform. 
 That is good Bible, and that s what Yank would say 
 if he was here. I m that thankful I d give a year of 
 my life if I could think what to say. Ye don t know 
 what the gold means to me, Bud. Ye can t know 
 how from my toes up I thank God ; and dang ornery 
 cuss that I am, I can t think of no fit words but 
 Thank ye, thank ye, God Almighty. All them 
 words is in my heart that my tongue can t speak. Oh, 
 Lord, if Yank was here! " and throwing himself on 
 his knees, " Thank ye, thank ye," he cried, with face 
 uplifted, and with such simple fervor that, rude as was 
 the prayers wrung from lips so unused to supplication, 
 or to acknowledgment of benefits, it seemed to Bud to 
 cleave its way through air into infinite space to the 
 ears of the Infinite Ruler of all. 
 
 They took a pan from the bed-rock, and what a pan 
 of dirt that was! The grains, big and little, with 
 occasional pieces as large as a pea, lay thick when the 
 dirt was all gone. " There s ten dollars in that no, 
 there s seven or eight," said Zeb; and they panned 
 another pan which was not so good, but had, as they 
 estimated, three dollars in it, and another that had 
 less than that, and another that was nearly as good, 
 and others, until Zeb said: 
 
 " It is there, and it won t get away from us. We ll 
 put up sluice-boxes, and when the days are warm 
 we ll get a little water from the spring and we ll make
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 119 
 
 a rocker, and between using the water when the snow 
 is melting, and the rocker when we hain t much water, 
 we ll be taking gold out every day, and in six week s 
 time we ll have all the water we can handle, and we ll 
 sluice out a fortune. We ve got it rich, Bud. Even 
 if it s only a pocket, there s big money in it. We ve 
 got to dig that ditch, and as it gets warm sometimes 
 does along now we ll have our water. "We can t do 
 no more good here; let s go right to work on that 
 ditch." 
 
 Five feet of snow covered the ground, and it was 
 well they had, before it came, surveyed the line of the 
 ditch, for, digging in the snow, they could find the 
 little stakes they had driven in the ground to mark its 
 course. In ten days the ditch was finished and ready 
 for the first melting of the snow. 
 
 During this time, as they sat at evening about the 
 fire, Zeb s happiness was overflowing. " Do ye know, 
 Bud," he said one night, "I ve been a- thinking this 
 money has got to go somewhere, and life s onsartin; 
 but, live or die, my sheer of this money has got to go 
 somewhere, and I suppose ye ve something you want 
 to do with yours. What I ve got to say is this: If 
 anything happens to me, I want you to send my sheer 
 of the dust we git to Jim Peasley, Poseytown, Inji- 
 anny, and write a letter to him how it was I pegged 
 out, if so be I do. I ll write a letter and give ye, 
 and ye kin put it in the letter ye write. I know I 
 kin trust ye, if anything happens, to do the right 
 thing." 
 
 "That you can, Zeb." 
 
 " Well, write it down; ye ve got pen and ink. Jim 
 Peasley, Poseytown, Injianny. See he gits the dust,
 
 120 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 or the money it brings, and don t ye go to no bank 
 to do it, but Wells, Fargo, Bud. And now bout your 
 sheer." 
 
 "Well, Zeb, I haven t thought about it. I hardly 
 know." 
 
 "See here, Bud, this thing must be done ship 
 shape." 
 
 " I don t know, and I don t care much; " and think 
 ing a minute, " you can send mine to a name I ll write, 
 and I ll write a letter too, that you can send." 
 
 Give me your hand on it, then. I couldn t be 
 quiet in my grave, if I ever have one, if anything 
 should happen to the money," the old man said. 
 
 They took each other s hand on it, and Bud, getting 
 the pen and ink and paper, wrote a short letter, and 
 sealed it in an envelope, which he directed. " Here s 
 mine," he said; "send to the address on the letter, 
 and the letter with it." 
 
 Zeb awkwardly took the pen, and laboriously devoted 
 a full hour to covering two sides of a sheet of paper, 
 and, putting it in an envelope, handed the pen to Bud. 
 " Write ye," he said, " Jim Peasley, Poseytown, Inji- 
 anny," which Budd did, and sealed the envelope. The 
 two letters were carefully put away on the little shelves 
 near their bunk. "Now I feel better," said Zeb. 
 " I ve had this on my mind ever sence we struck the 
 bed-rock. Bud," he said, " tain t no business of 
 mine, but pears like ye don t feel no better than ye 
 did afore we struck it. Dang d if ye ve been as peart 
 as ye was; seems like ye don t care nothing bout it." 
 
 "Well, Zeb, I don t care much, that s true. I do 
 care, for you are pleased; but for myself, it don t mat 
 ter. Money, or no money, it s all the same."
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 121 
 
 The old man s kind, clear eyes looked at his young 
 companion searchingly, and he started to speak, but 
 checked himself, and sat in silence for some time. At 
 last he said: "There s no man I ve taken to sence 
 Yank died like I has to ye, Bud. Ye ve made a friend 
 of me; ye hain t put on no airs with me. I m igno 
 rant, and I m old-fashioned. I ve been so long in the 
 mountains that dang d if I know anything else. Ye ve 
 come of good folks, and yer eddicated. All yer life, 
 till ye come with me, ye ve had life go easy with ye. 
 Ye ve never been in rough places, nor had to do with 
 rough folks. Yer a gentleman, and ye ve lived the 
 life of them in cities, and it ain t that I put myself to 
 larn ye anything; but, Bud, I love ye like ye was my 
 own son. Yes, my boy, I do ; and there s a kind of 
 laming that comes with years and ain t taught in 
 schools, nor a young man don t get it from the com 
 pany he keeps, if it is high company. 
 
 " Bud, yer wrong, yer wrong. Whatever has hap 
 pened to ye, I don t want to know it; I don t ask to 
 know it ; but I can see yer wrong in the way ye take 
 it. What years larns a man to do is to remember to 
 forgit. Yer remembering everything; ye ain t for- 
 gitting anything. Now we ll suppose, " and he looked 
 keenly at him as he spoke, ye had some trouble, and 
 ye waited till the feller drew on ye, and then ye nailed 
 him ; now, what ye want to remember is that if he had 
 got a second shot at ye he d a killed ye, and what ye 
 want to forgit is that he was a man ; he was a cougar 
 when he come for ye." And, with his eyes still fixed 
 on him, " We ll suppose ye got in love men mostly 
 do some time and the girl wouldn t have ye; then ye 
 want to remember that lots of men has done the same
 
 122 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 thing afore, and what ye want to forgit is that she s 
 the only woman in the world. 
 
 Feeling that he had illustrated his meaning by 
 taking as examples all the possible causes that could 
 have brought worry to his friend, Zeb added, "If 
 I had not had this laming come to me, I d be a 
 miserable cuss, for I ve been in both them places 
 myself. 
 
 Bud was walking the floor of the little cabin. 
 "Zeb," he said, "it s worse than that. Since I ve 
 gotten to know you, to realize what kind of a man 
 you are, it has been on my lips to tell you some 
 thing; but you are so true, you are so honest, Zeb. 
 I ought to have told you before, but I could not 
 do it, Zeb. They say I m a thief; but here before 
 God I m looking into your eyes, Zeb it is a lie, 
 a damnable lie. Yes, Zeb, they said I was a thief; " 
 and sobs came from the young fellow as he walked 
 the floor. 
 
 " Ye did right, Bud, ye did right. I d killed him 
 afore the words were out of his mouth. No man 
 could do anything but that." 
 
 " I didn t kill any one, Zeb; I didn t touch him." 
 
 " Didn t kill him? Didn t touch him?" Zeb re 
 peated in amazement. " Ye didn t have yer gun, and 
 he got away? " 
 
 " No, Zeb, I did not touch him. You don t under 
 stand it. I love this man s niece. He has been a 
 father to her, and I was in his employ ; something was 
 missed, and he said I stole it. It seemed as if it must 
 have been me; everything pointed to me; everybody 
 believes it. There is no proof to convict me before the 
 law, but the judgment of man has made me a thief.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 123 
 
 It s horrible; and she, the girl I love, she will believe 
 it. Oh, God, it almost drives me wild! I don t think 
 of it. I try to forget it, but it will come up. When 
 I met you, Zeb, I was just from New York. I said to 
 myself, There is no hope for me here. I could not 
 fight the charge, for none was publicly made. I could 
 not remain there. I felt, for the sake of the one I 
 loved, I must get out of her way, and so I left, with 
 no idea where I was going, with no care where I went, 
 hoping everybody would forget me. I bought a ticket 
 to San Francisco. There was something in the air, 
 or change of scene, that put vigor in me. As I rode 
 along I said to myself, I will begin in a new country 
 a new life. I will put the old one behind me. I will 
 never go back to friends who have been so unjust, to 
 associates so cruel. 
 
 "The clear air, the bright skies, the wildness of 
 the country calmed me. I met a man on the train, 
 and we fell into conversation. He was going to 
 Helena, in Montana, and because he did not know me, 
 because he could not look on me with the suspicious 
 eyes of those I had left behind, because he talked of 
 the new country, he interested me, common, vulgar, 
 scheming creature though he was; and as he was 
 going, he told me to ride from Helena to some mines 
 he had they were in such a wild country. I was 
 interested, and I thought to myself, I wish I could go 
 into some place so wild that I could see no one, and I 
 asked him if I could go with him. He seemed pleased 
 to have me, and so I went to Helena with him. There 
 I bought the outfit that I have, for he told me what to 
 get, and I paid for mine and for his, for it seemed he 
 had no money. He would repay me at his mines. I
 
 124 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 did not care whether he ever paid me or not. I had 
 tny money all in large bills, and he could see it when 
 I took it out. 
 
 "The day before we left Helena, I deposited in a 
 bank twelve hundred dollars. He did not know of it 
 not that I cared but it happened he was not with 
 me, and I did not speak of it. I had about three 
 hundred dollars more left, and I took it with me. We 
 rode off and we camped, and all was new to me ; every 
 thing interested me the packing, the cooking, the 
 free, independent air of it all. "We had been riding 
 several days, and I began to know this man, and I 
 began to hate him as I did; he was so selfish and so 
 mean and so low in his ideas. I was bored with him. 
 I was anxious to get to our destination so that I might 
 leave him. I had now a little knowledge of how to 
 travel in a wild country, and I wished to be by my 
 self, to go by myself, anywhere, it did not matter 
 where. The next day we would reach his place, and 
 the next day, and so on. One morning I awoke, and 
 he and everything that belonged to him was gone. I 
 went to my coat, which I had thrown on my saddle, 
 and, as I expected, my pocket-book was gone. I cared 
 so little, I was so glad he had gone, I was so pleased 
 to get rid of him, I did not even regret the loss of my 
 money. I was happy; I knew, whichever way I 
 went, that in time I would meet some one, or cross 
 some road ; and if it would be a month before I did, 
 it mattered not. My trouble was with my pack-horse 
 and his pack, but I got along after a fashion. The 
 third day, I met you, Zeb, and I was tired of being 
 alone. There was something about you that I liked, 
 and I asked to go with you. That s all my miserable
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 125 
 
 story. Save one man, to whom I wrote the letter, 
 and perhaps the woman I love, everybody believes 
 me a thief. Perhaps, I say. Good God! I don t 
 know, but she can t believe it; she can t believe it, 
 Zeb. Tell me you don t believe this lie, Zeb; tell mo 
 that." 
 
 During this recital, Zeb s amazement had gradually 
 given place to sympathy. 
 
 " I wouldn t have believed it of ye, Bud," he said. 
 " I suppose city ways is differnt, and I allow for him 
 being an uncle of the girl s, and all that, and ye 
 young, too. I ll bet my life yer no thief," he said, 
 taking the young man s hand; " but yer a fool, Bud, 
 that s what ye are. I m sorry for yer trouble; I d 
 give anything to help ye. Ye ve been wrong bout it 
 all. Ye ve run away when ye ought to have staid 
 right there and fought it out. Ye ve given everybody 
 a right to think ye did that thing. I can t see it no 
 other way. I never see anything so misfortnit as the 
 man being her uncle and a sort of father to her. Yes, 
 perhaps ye couldn t kill him. I don t know; it s a 
 hard question bout that. 
 
 " We ll take a trip this next summer, Bud, yon and 
 me, and we ll go to New York, and we ll camp right 
 there till this thing s made straight. Now, don t ye 
 have it on yer mind, boy ; thar s nothing can be done 
 now, and it s foolish to worry and wind yer hoss 
 afore ye ve got to use him. 
 
 "There s nobody here but thinks ye re a squar 
 man; nobody here but loves ye. Dang it, Bud, ye ve 
 got like a son to me. 
 
 After having told his story, Bud felt a sense of 
 relief. The sympathy and confidence of his compan-
 
 126 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 ion in him were so grateful. It touched him to see 
 how, in a thousand ways, Zeb tried to cheer him. He 
 never spoke of it, but his efforts were made with so 
 much delicacy, and were so unremitting, he could not 
 fail to feel them.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 As they had a chance, Zeb, and Bud acting under 
 his instructions, made a rocker, something like a 
 cradle, the bottom, set on an angle, resting on round 
 ing pieces. One would bring the gravel, and the other 
 would dip up and pour in the water and agitate the 
 rocker. Often they would take out in a few hours 
 what Zeb would estimate at fifty or sixty dollars; and 
 there coming a little soft weather, they ran a little 
 water through the sluice-boxes, and shovelling in the 
 gravel as fast as the slight head of water would allow, 
 they cleared up from the riffles in the bottom about 
 ninety ounces of gold-dust. Their little store had aug 
 mented till now Zeb roughly calculated they had one 
 hundred and thirty ounces of gold. This was put in 
 a buckskin sack of the old man s making, and had such 
 decided weight, it was a pleasure to lift it. 
 
 Sundays they took long walks on the snowshoes, 
 Bud getting very expert in their use; they even 
 extended their walks so that one day they made twenty- 
 five miles. The probability of their "diggins,." for 
 so Zeb dignified them, demanding more water than 
 they could conveniently reach near by, and which 
 should furnish a supply all season, led Zeb to explore 
 a big creek which, some distance above them, put into 
 the river. 
 
 They walked up this creek, and calculated that, by
 
 128 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 bringing in a ditch eight or nine miles long, ample 
 water could be brought on their claim at a sufficient 
 height above it to give a fall of two hundred feet or 
 more for the pipes, Zeb explaining the manner of 
 working hydraulic mines in a large way, as they went 
 along. From where they had stopped to look at a 
 place in the stream where Zeb thought would be an 
 advantageous place to begin the contemplated ditch 
 there ran by gradual descent a long, smooth mountain 
 side. 
 
 " I would like to go up there, Zeb, and look off of 
 the divide," said Bud. "It s a clear day; we could 
 see a long distance." 
 
 " That ain t a bad idee. I d like to kinder get the 
 lay of the country myself," said the old man; " so go 
 ahead." 
 
 They found it a long, hard climb, and three hours 
 of active work elapsed before they stood on the sum 
 mit ; but the grand view before them well repaid the 
 effort. A great white solitude, broken by patches of 
 timber. Over this wintry waste the eye roamed in 
 search of something that might indicate human pres 
 ence, but there was nothing ; unbroken solitude, nature 
 at her wildest, and over her, winter s white blanket; 
 not a cloud in the sky. The eye roamed for scores of 
 miles over as unbroken a wilderness as our great land 
 contains. Away at the north the brown, darker color 
 showed the plains the hills had lapsed into; but west 
 and east and south only broken mountain country 
 with great peaks of dazzling whiteness rising high 
 above the green spots of timber on their sides; great 
 clefts, of which they could not see the bottom, showed 
 where the Salmon and its tributaries made way. Off
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 129 
 
 at the east and south sharply ran the jagged ridge 
 of the Sawtooth Range, and the White Mountains, 
 cold and still, like great domes of rounded marble, 
 limited vision in their direction. The Weisers, Esty s 
 Peak, and others afar off, the bright sun brought 
 clearly out, while the innumerable smaller hills crowded 
 around these giants, sitting at their feet with their 
 green mantles of fir and pine drawn round them. Not 
 a breath of air stirred ; the stillness that can be felt, 
 the quiet of a great loneliness, was over all. 
 
 " "Where is there any one besides ourselves, Zeb? " 
 at last Bud said. " One would think we were alone 
 in the world." 
 
 "Let me see. Placerville must be about there," 
 pointing to the south. " I reckon that s the nearest 
 settlement; mebbe it s a hundred and twenty or thirty 
 miles. Yes," continued Zeb, "it lies about that 
 way. There s Bernard Mountain, and that s Scott s 
 Peak, and it lies on beyond, across the Payette, about 
 fifty miles or so farther." 
 
 " And is there no one nearer than that? " 
 
 " There s placer mines somewhere between here and 
 Placerville, but it ain t likely there s any one there in 
 winter; and there may be trappers somewhere round, 
 but it ain t likely; this ain t no great fur country 
 round here, no way." 
 
 The sun, now some distance past the zenith, began 
 to cast shadows here and there, and gave a still colder 
 aspect to the scene, for where they fell the snowy sur 
 face was steel gray. 
 
 "We ll have a great run down," said Zeb, "and 
 we d better be going, for it s quite a pull to camp." 
 
 They started down the mountain, and had a most 
 9
 
 130 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 exhilarating run for three miles or more, doing it in 
 ten minutes; and so quickly had Bud acquired the 
 knack of riding the shoes, that he allowed them to 
 take a pace Zeb did not keep up with, and arrived at 
 the cabin after a good twenty-five mile round, little 
 exhausted by the exertion of the day. 
 
 Day after day went by, and as the temperature 
 allowed the water to run, they added to their stock of 
 gold-dust. Another thaw gave so much of it that 
 they could again shovel the gravel into the boxes, and 
 so more dust went into the buckskin sacks, for there 
 were now two of them. Bud became quite familiar 
 with the work, and, as Zeb said, " took to it like an 
 old timer." 
 
 In the running off of the gravel, a large boulder in 
 it came to light, and as it was in the channel or line 
 where was the richest ground, the miners had worked 
 the gravel away from beneath it, and to keep it from 
 falling on the bed-rock and being in their way, they 
 had propped it up, holding it in place by an upright 
 timber. The soft weather caused the water from the 
 melting snow above to trickle down the side of the 
 excavation from which this rock hung out, partly im 
 bedded in the gravel and partly overhanging the bed 
 rock on which was set the timber supporting it. 
 
 It had been a soft night, and when work was begun 
 in the morning, here and there the sides of the cut 
 had slumped off, and the necessity of still further 
 strengthening the supports of the boulder was appar 
 ent. Timbers were cut and placed under it, and when 
 it seemed as if all was nearly secure, a great mass of 
 gravel, earth, and snow, carrying the boulder with it, 
 fell without a second s warning. Bud was a little far-
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 131 
 
 ther away, and thougli thrown down and half buried 
 by the stones and partially frozen earth that came on 
 him like a wave, was not much injured. His first 
 thought was of Zeb, who, wedged in between the 
 fallen timbers and nearly covered by the debris, his 
 face white as death, was almost within reach of his 
 hands. Wildly he called out to him, but no answer 
 came; he struggled to free himself, and at last suc 
 ceeded. He could tell Zeb was still alive from his 
 breathing; only his head and neck and one shoulder 
 were uncovered. 
 
 Bud pulled at him, but he could not move him. He 
 took shovel and pick, and dug and pulled the covering 
 from him. Across his stomach and side a timber had 
 fallen, and on one end of it was the great rock, he 
 judged, for he could see its top, and it was in the line 
 of the timber. With all his strength he tried to move 
 the log, but it was not till he had loosened another 
 from the mass where it lay half covered, that, using 
 it as a lever, he pried the timber one side, and at last 
 drew Zeb, unconscious, inanimate, away. 
 
 His exertions had been prodigious, and he could only 
 gasp, " For God s sake, Zeb, dear old Zeb, are you 
 hurt?" 
 
 Slowly the old man s senses returned, and he an 
 swered him in a dazed way. "It s all right, Jane," 
 he said, " all right." 
 
 " Don t you know me, Zeb ? It s I, Bud. " 
 
 "That s so; the dang slide knocked me out. See 
 if my legs are broken, will ye? " 
 
 No bones were broken, and very faint and pale the 
 old man was helped to his feet. 
 
 "There s something wrong inside," he said. "I
 
 132 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 guess my ribs are broke; and I feel weak, and I m 
 bout done up." 
 
 With great difficulty Bud brought him out of the 
 cut, having to carry him at last, and partly dragging 
 him on the snow-shoes, got him to the cabin, where, 
 being more closely examined, it seemed that three ribs 
 were broken ; and bruises here and there, all over his 
 legs and arms and body, made the accident serious 
 enough to cause alarm. 
 
 I don t care nothing bout them things if I ain t 
 hurt inside. I kinder feel I am, but we ll tell more in 
 a day or two," said Zeb. 
 
 Bud helped him into his bunk, and, as Zeb directed 
 him, put such bandages around him as were necessary. 
 
 Often that night he went to the old man s bunk, 
 finding him awake, but always deprecating so much 
 kind attention. Next day Zeb was only able to stir 
 about the cabin a little. There was a "bad feeling 
 inside," as he expressed it. He insisted on Bud s leav 
 ing him and going to work as usual at the " diggins," 
 and, as his anxiety was so marked, Bud, against his 
 own wish, put in the day as usual, going up at noon 
 to the cabin to see how his companion was. At night 
 he was as cheerful as ever, displaying great interest 
 in, and asking many questions about, what had been 
 done that day. "I don t feel just right inside," he 
 said; and " then perhaps I d better keep quiet a few 
 days on account of them ribs." 
 
 The days went by, Bud working alone, and Zeb 
 moving about but little, and that little disapproved of 
 by his young companion, who, so far as he could, en 
 forced complete rest, so as to give the broken ribs a 
 chance to unite again.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 133 
 
 It was lonely work for the young man ; he missed 
 the cheery companionship, and it gave him more 
 opportunity to reflect on his own trouble. He saw 
 now that, as Zeb had said, he had, by his leaving New 
 York, given every one the right to think he was a guilty 
 man, and this chafed him. His remaining and hold 
 ing his ground would at least have done something to 
 convince the one of all the world he most desired to 
 believe in his innocence. "Can it be possible," he 
 thought, " that she will think of me as others do, as 
 they must think of me?" And, then, there was in 
 this lonely situation so much reason for anxiety on 
 Zeb s account, for notwithstanding the difference in 
 their years, education, and conditions of life, he had 
 come to think much of the old man. "Yes," he 
 said to himself, you are a man, Zeb, and I love a 
 man. What a simple, grand old character he is! " he 
 thought. All the men he had ever known seemed so 
 artificial beside him. Now he knew him so well, he 
 felt he had at last met a man. 
 
 There is a certain manliness in some men that per 
 meates the air about them ; an emanation from them 
 that neither the purple of an emperor, the fustian of 
 a laborer, nor the buckskin of a backwoodsman can 
 smother. It appertains neither to riches nor to pov 
 erty, to high nor lowly station. To be a man is more 
 than to be a gentleman; to be a woman, more than to 
 be a lady. Precept, example, education, training, 
 surroundings, may take a passive child and make it a 
 gentleman or a lady, provided the child be morally 
 healthy and amiable; the graces of heart and mind 
 under these formative agencies are built up, and, given 
 a well-disposed, kindly child, you have as their product
 
 134 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 that consideration for others, that refinement of mind 
 and conduct, that abhorrence of pretence, that grace 
 and elegance of word and manner, that to our modern, 
 broader ideas define the gentleman and lady. A man 
 is something more, a woman is something more, than 
 this. Man, woman, designate the male and female 
 biped, and under these two heads all human beings of 
 course come. TTe are speaking here of man at his 
 best, of woman at her best the ideal individuals of 
 each sex. 
 
 There is something in the tendency of culture and 
 gentle nurture deteriorating in its effect. No advan 
 tage is gained without some loss : it is a corollary to 
 the law of compensation. 
 
 You may take a thoroughbred; centuries of careful 
 breeding have made him, in most respects, an ideal 
 horse. He has speed, courage, style, endurance, intel 
 ligence. Under easy conditions of life, everything 
 going smoothly, good care and plenty to eat, he is as 
 near perfection as a horse can be; but when he is 
 placed side by side with a half -wild mustang, and has 
 to carry his rider and accoutrements over a rough 
 mountain country, living on its scanty grass, some 
 days getting water, and some days going without a 
 drop, the mustang will kill him and be none the worse 
 for it. There is a certain horse vigor about the one 
 that art, while it has made the other a better horse in 
 most particulars, has deprived the thoroughbred of. 
 
 You may take a rose, a product of most painstaking 
 and long-continued development from an original wild 
 rose. It seems a perfect thing; its appearance, its 
 odor, crown it queen among flowers. In its long evo 
 lution from its parent stock it has gained much, but it
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 135 
 
 has lost something; the fresh, delicate wild flavor has 
 gone. 
 
 These are both physical changes in horse and in 
 rose, but in mankind the mental change is not less 
 marked. 
 
 A Latin author, speaking of something to be done, 
 says: This requires not the brawn of the athlete, but 
 the sinew of the soldier. Brawn is the result of cul 
 tivation; the gymnasium has made it. Sinew is 
 formed by the rough contact of man with the forces 
 of nature; it develops under hunger and thirst; it 
 waxes strong and tense and elastic under hardships. 
 Brawn and sinew of heart and mind there are in a 
 sense. 
 
 A king upon his throne may have been born with 
 the foundation for the best development of both, and 
 nature and art may leave him man and gentleman. A 
 rough mountaineer may be a man, and lack but little 
 of being a gentleman; the man is born, the gentle 
 man is made. 
 
 There was about Zeb a virility of thought, expres 
 sion, and manner; a masterful bearing in the conflict 
 between man and the forces opposed to him when, 
 single-handed, he contends in the wilderness for exist 
 ence ; a courage and determination that nothing could 
 blunt. 
 
 A simple patriotism and love of country dominated 
 him. A stern sense of justice, a heart as tender as a 
 woman s, a dauntless spirit, a modesty that concealed 
 all these until there came some puff of indignation, 
 some breeze of sentiment, some blast of need, that 
 swept aside the veil and showed to all about him what 
 was behind it, gave him a charm in Bud s eyes.
 
 136 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 Then he was so unselfish in the little matters that, 
 where two men live alone, are all the time coming up, 
 and so sympathetic over Bud s own troubles that his 
 heart warmed to him as it never did to any man before. 
 
 And now this man, this friend, lay, he feared, in 
 more danger than he would admit, or perhaps himself 
 knew. The loneliness of their situation, their complete 
 isolation from any chance of aid of any kind oppressed 
 him, and with a troubled heart he did his work. Aside 
 from an almost feverish interest in the results of the 
 day s labor, that in much questioning and advice mani 
 fested itself nightly, Zeb continued much the same for 
 some days. 
 
 One evening, however, as the old man lay in his 
 bunk, and after the doings of the day had been most 
 minutely gone over, he said, You see them marks on 
 the log here ? pointing to the wall at the side of his 
 bunk. "I m keeping my time here, Bud, and we d 
 better settle bout it now; my idee is that four dollars 
 a day is about squar, considering everything ; what do 
 ye think? If that ain t right, say what you think 
 would be." 
 
 * Eight for what, Zeb ? What do you mean ? 
 
 " Why, for the time I lay off and you re a- working. " 
 
 " I don t understand what you are talking about, 
 Zeb." 
 
 " Yer a- working more nor me, and what I want to 
 know is what would be squar to pay you for it ; and 
 when we get the dust I ll owe you as much as them 
 marks at so many dollars a day will come to. I ll put 
 one down every day till I get up, if I ever do." 
 
 "Zeb, you would not owe me a dollar if you did 
 not work for a year. I owe you so much now, more
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 137 
 
 than I can ever pay. It is not dollars I owe you, it s 
 health you have given me, Zeb; it s some sort of 
 peace I owe you, for your trust and confidence and 
 sympathy have done more to make my mind and heart 
 well and strong than anything else could have done. 
 
 Hold, Bud. That I trust ye and love ye like a 
 son, there ain t no doubt; and that I owe ye when I 
 don t work and ye do, there ain t no doubt on, neither. 
 Right is right, and I want it so. I won t have it no 
 other way." 
 
 Bud insisted that the matter should not be consid 
 ered, but Zeb was obdurate. 
 
 " There s laws to all things," he said; " and though 
 they ain t in no book, and lawyers don t know bout 
 them, mebbe, they re laws, and the law among pard- 
 ners is that when one don t work he pays the others, 
 and it comes out of his sheer; mostly it s four dollars a 
 day, but that s how they agree. It can t be no other 
 way, Bud; it s pardners law, and ye ain t going to go 
 agin that, are ye? We ve got to have everything 
 regular. It can t be no other way. " 
 
 " Then if that s so, I lost some days when we came 
 back from leaving the horses." 
 
 " Of course ye did, and likely ye ve got the marks 
 for em somewhere." 
 
 " I never thought of it, Zeb. I didn t mark any 
 thing down, but I know it was two days, and next day 
 I wasn t good for anything, so it s three." 
 
 " Ye was in the cut, and so ye didn t lose that day. 
 It s pardners law, too, that if ye ve a tool in your 
 hand at the work ye don t lose time." 
 
 Zeb was so determined about this matter that Bud 
 had to acquiesce.
 
 138 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 " We ll cross out two of these marks of mine, and 
 then it will be all right;" and Zeb, as he spoke, 
 crossed out two of the marks. "I m going to say 
 something to ye," he continued; " mebbe there won t 
 be no need, mebbe there may. I m hurt inside, Bud; 
 I don t give nothing for them ribs, they ll be all 
 right; but something s wrong inside of me, and I 
 don t know how twill come out. It s best to make 
 everything right when ye can, and not wait till ye 
 can t. I give ye a letter, ye mind it, Bud, and I ve 
 got yer promise bout that; but there s another thing, 
 and I ll fix that now, and then we won t talk no more 
 bout it. I ve got a little buckskin sack here; Yank s 
 pipe he give me the day he was killed is in it, and 
 there s another thing in it, and if so be I play out, 
 which in course can happen to any man any time, I 
 want 3^6 to put the sack inside my shirt here," touch 
 ing his heart with his hand, " when ye roll me in my 
 blankits." 
 
 " Don t talk like that, Zeb," said Bud. 
 
 " And if it comes that way," said the old man, " I 
 give ye my outfit, the hosses and all. Ye ll be kind 
 to old Bally, I know ye will. He s an old devil, I 
 know, but we ve been a long time together, and you ll 
 stand his cussedness till he dies. It won t be long, 
 for he ll kinder miss me. He never give a damn for 
 nobody but me. And ye ll keep the old gun; it s 
 spoke loud and struck true for me many a time; if 
 twas anybody but ye, Bud, my boy, I d tell ye to roll 
 it in the blankits with me." 
 
 Why, Zeb, you will be all right in a few days, and 
 you must not get discouraged; it s dull being here 
 alone all day and you get blue, that s all. "
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 139 
 
 "Well, Bud, mebbe it s so; but what I ve said 
 won t do no harm, and them things was on my mind." 
 
 " If you only had a doctor; if you were only where 
 you could have care. What do you think is wrong, 
 Zeb? How do you feel?" And Bud questioned 
 him, and went over to him, taking his big, sinewy 
 hand in his. 
 
 " I don t know. I don t feel right, but mebbe, as 
 you say, I ll be all right soon. I see a feller once; he 
 was caved on like me, and I ve thought of him a hun 
 dred times sence I ve been laying here. The doctor 
 told me he had a clost call, but he fetched him out all 
 right. I disremember what it was he give him, and 
 if I did, course we hain t got it here; but I hain t no 
 idee twas the medicine did it." 
 
 " How far do you think it is to a doctor, Zeb ? " 
 
 " Must be one hundred and forty or fifty miles to 
 Placerville. I reckon there s a doctor there, but he 
 might as well be in heaven, if that s a place one on 
 em ever goes to, which I have my doubts on. Some 
 on em s good, I suppose, but they run dang thin on 
 this coast, I tell ye. 
 
 " I hain t had no conceit of em sence the fall Yank 
 and me come into Nevady. We was a-travelling 
 along, gitting up into the mountains, and one day we 
 stopped a while at a little town. There was an old 
 friend of ours there and we went into his cabin and he 
 got us dinner. I never went much on salt, but Yank 
 he was the dangdest man for salt I ever see; there 
 warn t none on the table, and he says to the man, 
 Hain t yer any salt, Sam? Yes, there tis on the 
 window, he says; and Yank reaches out and gits it. 
 We d finished eating, and twas little we had, for Sam
 
 140 YELLOW PINE J3ASIN 
 
 was out of luck, when he passed long by the window. 
 I see him grow pale. My God ! he says, Yank, 
 ye ve got the pizen, and out he rushes for the doctor. 
 Yank says, I don t taste nothin ; I don t feel nothin . 
 In a minnit in comes Sam. Quick, he says ; have 
 ye got any dust ? The doctor won t come less he s a 
 twenty. "We hadn t but a little silver. * Where is 
 he? I says. Come long with me, he says; and we 
 go up the street two or three houses, and into the doc 
 tor s office, and a meaner looking cuss I never see. 
 Come quick, I said, my pardner s pizened. Give 
 me twenty, said he. I hain t got it; but come, I ll 
 give ye all we ve got. No, I won t go, he says. I 
 reached for him, and in a minnit he was afore Yank 
 in the cabin. There s the man, I said. He s piz 
 ened; do } r ou fix him up. Mind ye, if Yank dies, I ll 
 kill ye. Keep back, I said to the few that was com 
 ing in; no man comes in here. The doctor was 
 ugly, but I meant it, and he knew it ; so he sent Sam 
 for some stuff, and Sam told them outside how it was, 
 and they was all with me. 
 
 " Yank said he didn t feel nothing, and he says, as 
 he took some of the stuff on his finger, I ll taste that 
 agin; and, before we could stop him, he did. Well, 
 says he, if that ain t salt, I ll be danged. I tell ye 
 it s salt. Just then Sam came in with the medicine, 
 and going up to the tin, looked agin, and then he lifted 
 up a board in the floor, and there was another tin. 
 It s all right. I thought he d taken the pizen, but 
 it s here; that s salt, he cried out. 
 
 " I was never so glad in my life. I could have cried, 
 and hugged Yank. But warn t it singerler ? I began 
 a -cussing Sam. Ye ornery fool, I said, won t ye
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 141 
 
 never have sense to think afore ye spring such a play 
 on a man ? 
 
 " But Yank he says, Sam, ye ve done me a power 
 of good; I wouldn t have missed it for nothing. There 
 never was no sermon hit me like them words of yours. 
 
 " I was a-going to kick the doctor out, but Yank he 
 caught me, and wouldn t have it. I feel pious, he 
 said to the cuss, or I d give ye a chance to doctor 
 yerself for a month. Git out, for Zeb is no good 
 company for ye now. 
 
 "And the doctor went out, and if it hadn t been 
 for Yank, them outside would have lynched him ; as 
 it was, that night, after we was gone, they give him 
 notice to leave camp in twenty-four hours. 
 
 " We sold an old boss we had for twenty -five dollars 
 and paid the doctor his twenty, and we put the pack 
 on one of the riding bosses, and spelled each other a 
 walking into Nevady, and that s how I lost my grip 
 on doctors. I larfed bout it as we was a- travelling, 
 but Yank he didn t do nothing but shoot off texts for 
 a week. I tell ye, Zeb, he d say to me, I see things 
 and thought things I d never done afore. It wer bet 
 ter for my soul than Ayer s pills is for ye when yer 
 bilious; : and as he concluded his reminiscence, the 
 old man laughed heartily. 
 
 He was cheerful, and save his intense interest in the 
 recounting of the way things had gone at the "dig- 
 gins," and the gloating satisfaction he displayed in 
 weighing in his hand the increasing heaviness of the 
 sacks in which the dust was nightly put, Zeb appeared 
 much the same. He had grown paler, and, Bud could 
 see, much thinner. He seemed to have little inclina 
 tion to get up, and there was about him the patience
 
 142 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 and gentleness that gives one such an unquiet, appre 
 hensive feeling when he is about a sickbed. He was 
 so cheerful and so full of pleasant talk that, as Bud s 
 fears for him would become oppressive, some reminis 
 cence of old days would give him such pleasure in the 
 telling of it, and he would laugh in so light-hearted 
 a way, Bud would think, " Surely he can t be badly 
 injured." 
 
 But the time came when he had no appetite, could 
 not eat, and his legs seemed to have lost their strength. 
 They had a little flour left, and coffee and meat rounded 
 out the commissariat, but Zeb had no taste for simple 
 food now. 
 
 One evening Bud said, " Zeb, I ve been thinking it 
 over, and I believe I can snowshoe into Placerville or 
 somewhere else and see a doctor, tell him just how you 
 are, and bring back something to help you." 
 
 " No, ye won t," said Zeb. " Ye couldn t make it, 
 and then somebody would be a-follering ye in here if 
 they smelt the gold. No, Bud, that won t do. I have 
 thought it over for days as how twas best for ye. I 
 thought I wouldn t tell ye, but I think I will. Bud, 
 I m a-going to die. I know it, and it will be lonesome 
 like for ye; but that s what I can t save ye, Bud. Ef 
 I only could! " 
 
 "No, Zeb, no; it isn t so. You will be all right 
 yet; I know you will." 
 
 "No, Bud, I won t. If I was on the outside, 
 where there was a good doctor, I doubt if it would be 
 differnt; but here I ve got to hit the trail. It seems 
 like a mean, ornery thing to do to ye, Bud, but it 
 can t be helped; it can t be. Some day I ll go, and 
 ye ll do what I asked ye all them things.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 143 
 
 " Twill be lonesome like for ye, but ye ll keep on 
 working and the gold will come out, lots of it. When 
 the water is gone and ye can t work no more, ye ll go 
 to New York. I d a thought to make the trip with 
 ye and stand by ye through the thing, but I can t, 
 Bud, I can t. That worries me the worst of any 
 thing; but ye must do it alone. And, Bud, mind ye, 
 yer young and yer keerless. Don t never go without 
 yer gun ; a man never knows when he wants it. I 
 was a- thinking how I d be along and take a keer of 
 ye." 
 
 " It can t be, Zeb, it can t be! " said Bud, and still 
 he felt in his heart it might be. " I couldn t live here 
 without you, Zeb. Zeb, I can t lose you. You will 
 be better; I know you will." 
 
 "Mebbe, Bud, mebbe." 
 
 That night and the next day Bud turned it over in 
 his own mind, pro and con. If there was a chance at 
 all for Zeb, it was to see some doctor, get him to come 
 back with him if he would, but that he doubted, or to 
 tell him accurately Zeb s symptoms, and there might be 
 a chance who knew ? that he might give him some 
 thing that would save him. Could Zeb get along 
 without him ? He would walk night and day, i i and 
 in ten days I can be back, surely," he thought. " Zeb 
 can get around a little, and I ll fill the cabin with 
 wood, and get the food handy for him, and he might 
 get along. I ll make it some way, I know. I believe 
 it s the only chance, and I ll try it," he said to himself . 
 That noon he came up to the cabin. "I don t feel 
 like working, " he said to Zeb. "I believe I ll cut 
 some wood; I think I ll cut a big pile of it, for every 
 night I have to shovel out the snow to get at it ; " and
 
 144 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 so he did. He filled up one side of the cabin with 
 wood and left the matches handy ; he baked a lot of 
 bread and brought a quantity of dried meat in, and 
 put everything in as convenient reach as possible. Zeb 
 watched him with languid interest. 
 
 " There ain t nothing lazy bout ye, Bud," he said; 
 " ye quit work below, and here ye ve been a-going it. 
 Pears like yer doing something all the time. Yer a 
 help to me, Bud, and yer a comfort. I hain t took to 
 no man, cept Yank, like I has to you." 
 
 The snowshoes were made ready, and bread and 
 dried meat put in an old flour sack, and matches were 
 put in every pocket he had by Bud. He wrote in large, 
 plain letters, telling Zeb he had gone to the doctor s; 
 that he might depend on his being back in about ten 
 days; that everything was put handy for him; and 
 ended by saying: " Keep up courage, Zeb; I ll be 
 back with something to help you soon." 
 
 Never was Zeb more cheery than on that evening. 
 The only allusion he made to himself was a stray bit 
 of advice to Bud about how to handle the water of the 
 spring flood. 
 
 " I mayn t be here, and I thought I d fix it easy for 
 ye," he said, "so ye d know how to do well as if I 
 was here. 
 
 " Zeb, I can t bear to have you talk so. You will be 
 here; you are not going to leave me," Bud would say. 
 
 " Mebbe so, mebbe so," the old man would answer. 
 " I tell ye, Bud, we re men, and there s something for 
 me to face; and, I m sorry, Bud, being as we are alone 
 here together, something for ye. It s death I m a-run- 
 nin up agin. It s a-being without me, it s being all 
 alone and the lack of me on the work, that s coming to
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 145 
 
 you. We ve got to make the best of it, both on us. 
 When a man gets nigh the end, it s a nateral thing for 
 him to hate to go out of the world, and I ve been a 
 \vressling with the idee every day for two weeks. I 
 would like to see ye through that thing in New York; 
 ye ll want a man with ye. I d like to live till we clean 
 up, and hate to go now; seems like desarting of ye, 
 when ye need me, Bud; but it s got to be as it is, and 
 I know ye 11 be lonesome and all that; that part of it 
 is hard. But it s a comfort to me that we ve struck 
 it; that ye 11 send the money where I want it to go. 
 Ye don t know what a comfort that is. Why, Bud, 
 it s something I have been a-longing for for years; it s 
 something I ve been praying for; and when a man 
 wants a thing like that he don t give a darn for his life 
 side of it. I hain t been a pious man, God knows, 
 but he ll see how twas with me; it s a dang hard life 
 to be good in, but I hain t no real bad thing on my 
 conscience, and I kin hold up my head afore him and 
 take my medicine. If I kin only git to Yank, if only 
 I kin. How do you think it is, Bud ? Does a man 
 know what s going on here after he dies ? " 
 
 "I don t know, Zeb; no one does. That s all a 
 mystery. We ll all know, sometime, but it s going 
 to be a long time for both of us, I hope, before we 
 do." 
 
 " Mebbe, mebbe; seems like I could see more nor I 
 could. I see ye, Bud, making this thing of yers all 
 right; I see ye married to the girl, and little children 
 about ye, living as ye ought to live, where there are 
 folks, and them folks making much of ye. Say, Bud, 
 if ye have a boy, give him my gun when ye die, and 
 tell him, when he s a little one, how it was with an 
 10
 
 140 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 old feller who carried it from Mexico to Allasky, and 
 how it never spoke when it didn t have cause, and 
 how true it talked then. Tell him bout Yank; ye 
 never knew him, but ye ve heerd from me. Teach 
 him to speak the truth and to love his country and his 
 flag. I want to think something I ve told ye bout 
 Yank will get into his little heart, and when the time 
 comes that may come to him, he ll be a good soldier 
 and f oiler the flag as Yank did. Larning is good 
 for boys, but the idee of the country and the flag s 
 the main p int. Ye 11 tell him I asked ye to give him 
 the old gun and my blessing. And when ye marry 
 the girl, as ye will, Bud, tell her how I knew twould 
 come. Say to her, Old Zeb is a-chuckling to himself 
 in his grave over it, cause he knows she s got a man 
 a man he loved. God bless ye, my boy. Yer eddi- 
 cated, and yer ways are so differnt and yer life s been 
 so differnt, but ye made me yer equal and yer friend, 
 and I love ye. Ye ll mind the letter and what I told 
 ye bout the mine. Don t have nothing to do with no 
 bank, but Wells, Fargo; they re sure as death. Don t 
 let Bally s manners matter; ye ll treat him well cause 
 of me, I know ye will. 
 
 And then Zeb called to mind an old frolic of Yank 
 and himself in Yreka, and that led on to his giving an 
 account of Yank s familiarity with the Bible. "I d 
 give anything if I could think of them texts he used 
 to say ; they fit into whatever come along like a ball 
 in a gun-barrel." 
 
 Bud tried to encourage him, to make him think less 
 positively of death, but it seemed as if he had made 
 up his mind to it. Should he go or remain ? There 
 was a faint chance that he could do something for him
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 147 
 
 by seeing a doctor. Bud could not let the chance, even 
 if it was, as he was beginning to feel, a desperate one, 
 slip. 
 
 As the time came for turning into his bunk he had 
 Zeb s hand in his, and with a pathos in his voice that 
 the knowledge of his leaving made more pathetic, he 
 said, " Zeb, you ve been the truest friend to me I have 
 ever had ; since I have been with you I have learned 
 what a man is. Whatever comes, you ll know I am a 
 friend who loves you and doing what a friend can. 
 Good night, Zeb. God bless you, old man," and with 
 a quick burst of sentiment he leaned over, and, to Zeb s 
 astonishment, kissed him. 
 
 Ye have curous ways, Bud, he said, but yer a 
 man; that s in my heart. Good night to ye." 
 
 It was not long before the old man was asleep, and 
 very cautiously Bud moved to him and pinned to the 
 wall, where he could not fail to see it, the paper he 
 had written. The fire gave a little light, and the 
 peaceful face he looked down on almost diverted him 
 from his purpose, but he felt he must take the one 
 chance there seemed to be. 
 
 Very noiselessly he took his revolver, its cartridge- 
 belt, and his little sack of provisions, looked around 
 the cabin to see that all was left as easy for Zeb to get 
 at as possible, and went out. 
 
 The moon was in its third quarter, and it was nearly 
 as light as day. Getting on his snowshoes, with his 
 pole in his hand and his little sack across his shoul 
 ders, he slowly moved away from the cabin, often look 
 ing back until the trees hid it from view. He had not 
 taken a blanket with him, for he needed to be as 
 lightly loaded as possible, and intended at night to
 
 148 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 make a big fire and snatch what sleep he could 
 before it. 
 
 The snow was in excellent condition and he went 
 swiftly on. But on where ? From the mountain top 
 which Zeb and he had climbed there was in his mind a 
 general idea of his course and where the settlements 
 lay, but that was all. He knew he must go south and 
 a little east, and between Bernard Mountain and Scott s 
 Peak, in which direction Zeb, as he pointed them out, 
 had told him lay the habitations of men. A sense of 
 the difficulty of the task he had set himself to do came 
 to him more forcibly than ever before, but his was no 
 heart to falter. He was young and strong, of a hardy 
 constitution and powerful muscular frame, which the 
 life he had led the past six months had strengthened 
 and developed; then he had acquired an aptness on 
 snowshoes, but, better than all, the stimulus of love 
 for Zeb and the hope of saving his life nerved him. 
 A hundred and fifty miles as we ride it on an express 
 train seems a short distance, but through an uninhabited 
 country, with snow from five to twenty feet deep cov 
 ering it, with no shelter, nothing to eat or use but 
 what one carries on his back, with great mountain 
 divides to cross, it is another thing, quite another thing, 
 when it is to be travelled alone. 
 
 To a man experienced in such a way of travelling, 
 who knows the trail as you do the way to your busi 
 ness or to your neighbors, such a trip is no light one, 
 and such a man would attempt it only under some such 
 incentive as urged Bud to it. But here was a young 
 fellow, strong and active, it is true, but lacking in the 
 endurance which comes only from the strains such trips 
 give, only a few months from the city, ignorant of all
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 149 
 
 save the general course he was to go. Few men, per 
 haps, ever took part in a more forlorn hope; with him, 
 however, there was that blissful ignorance of its diffi 
 culties that, after all, is an element of success in many 
 undertakings. True, he knew it was a difficult thing 
 to do, but how difficult and how desperate he could 
 not know. 
 
 Before sunrise he had climbed and crossed the divide 
 that made the rim of the basin. The moon made the 
 two far-away peaks discernible, and between them his 
 way lay. In the early morning light he sped down 
 from the summit where he had stopped to fix clearly 
 in his mind the track he was to follow. The canon 
 made by the river lay along his way ; he would follow 
 along it. After sunrise he stopped a bit and ate some 
 bread, and dried meat. All that day he pushed on 
 over a country of low, broken hills, with occasionally 
 a little valley and a higher hill to climb and ride down 
 on his snowshoes. Before night he stopped where an 
 abundance of dry timber, fallen here and there, with 
 the tops of the dried black pines caught against some 
 living tree, gave fuel for his fire. He had not encum 
 bered himself with an axe, and had to depend on break 
 ing, by main strength, branches and the smaller pieces 
 of wood, or putting on bodily the logs he could drag 
 up and let the fire burn them in two. He had his big 
 knife, to use in making the fire. He made a great 
 blaze, and drew before it two logs as large as he 
 could master, on which he could sit or lie out of the 
 snow and rest, if he could not sleep. He munched 
 his bread and jerked venison, and waited for the long 
 night to pass. He determined, if the weather re 
 mained clear, to use the night for travelling, and rest
 
 150 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 when the sun was up; for the chilliness of the air 
 went through him, and his clothes, damp from perspi 
 ration, made him shiver when he turned from the fire. 
 He was tired and sore, for he had, he calculated, been 
 fully nineteen hours on his snowshoes, but he was 
 pleased with his progress ; he must have gone over two 
 miles an hour, he thought ; but to be sure he put it at 
 forty miles, though he felt he had probably made 
 nearer fifty. At any rate, he was very tired, and fell 
 into fitful slumbers, from which he would wake half 
 frozen, and make the fire blaze up again, and warm 
 himself at it, and then doze off again ; so a long night 
 passed, and the break of dawn was pleasant to his 
 eyes, and, better still, the rising of the sun in its clear 
 winter glory. It was hardly sunrise, though, before 
 he was on his way again. 
 
 That day he walked until afternoon, a little stiffly 
 at first, but soon his old swing came back to him, and 
 he thought, when he stopped to make a fire, that he 
 had gone fifteen miles or so, and probably sixty since 
 he had started. 
 
 He made his fire and ate the little portion he had 
 in his mind as a proper division of what he had, and 
 lying down in the warm sun, with the fire adding to 
 the heat, he slept a few hours, until the chilliness of 
 evening roused him. 
 
 In a way, the ground he had gone over was, to a 
 certain extent, familiar to him, for over much the 
 same course had Zeb and he come from Cape Horn 
 when they entered the Yellow Pine Basin ; and though 
 he could by no means follow the way they had come, 
 so much did the deep snow change the appearance of 
 the country, yet here and there he recognized familiar
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 151 
 
 objects in some rounded hill or great upturned rock ; 
 and in a general way the river, which he was going up, 
 would, he knew, bring him to Cape Horn. There 
 were cabins there might be men in them perhaps 
 twenty miles from there, towards Stanley, but there 
 was no doctor there, nor for a long distance beyond, 
 and it was very doubtful if there was any one at the 
 cabins, and he felt he could not risk going there. At 
 the settlements he had started for, Zeb had said there 
 were doctors, and there he determined to go. The 
 moon still gave him light, though clouds were coming 
 up, but they by no means obscured it, and the snow 
 was still hard. That night he had made good head 
 way, though he was beginning to feel the wear of the 
 walk and suffered from lack of sleep ; his broken and 
 uneasy slumbers, for he could only doze an hour or 
 two at a time, gave him little rest, but the absorbing 
 importance of his mission kept him on his weary walk. 
 
 When morning came he was nearing Cape Horn, 
 and when the sun rose he stopped for rest near where 
 Cape Horn Creek meets that other, then nameless, one, 
 which rises near the summit of the Bear Yalley divide, 
 and, uniting with it, pours its waters into the Salmon 
 below. 
 
 On the hillside above him came from out of the 
 snow a rough-hewn plank, showing a foot or two of 
 its end, and marking, as he knew, for Zeb had told 
 him of it, the grave of a man killed in some Indian 
 skirmish but a year or two before, one of those perish 
 able mementoes of the lives that have been lost in the 
 long fight that has won to peace and growing civiliza 
 tion our western empire. On hill and in valley sleep 
 those who fell; crumbling, unsubstantial tombstones
 
 152 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 have some, others none ; but to them rises up an ever 
 growing monument, its foundations, constitutions of 
 States ; the great blocks above them, laws of prosper 
 ous commonwealths laid in the cement of justice to 
 all, of peace, of good will; the years adding to its 
 towering height, till, in the fulness of time, shall 
 crown it all some figure emblematic of that perfect 
 man whom the millennium will find upon the earth. 
 
 Making a fire and eating his meagre breakfast, bring 
 ing up before the fire some logs that he might stretch 
 himself upon, took little time, and Bud was soon tak 
 ing such sleep as the hardness of his bed allowed. 
 
 That all roads led to Home was a feature in the old 
 world travel ; no less positive a one in that portion of 
 Idaho we are speaking of is that all roads lead to Cape 
 Horn. Does a man desire to go anywhere, the moun 
 tain ranges converge his trails to Cape Horn, for there 
 is the best pass in all the mountains. 
 
 To the west of it lies Bear Yalley, separated from 
 it by some twelve miles or so of distance, and by only 
 a moderate rise of divide. Crossing into the valley, 
 which, like a clover leaf, is divided into three parts, 
 and going up the easterly division, along a tributary 
 of the Salmon, you travel some fifteen miles or so 
 until, by an almost imperceptible rise from that side, 
 you go down to the waters of the Deadwood. To the 
 right of this is Bernard Mountain, so called after a 
 gallant officer who, a year or two before the time we 
 are speaking of, led an expedition against the Indians, 
 then troublesome in the country to the north; and 
 away to the south of it looms up Scott s Peak, its 
 name the only memorial of an early pioneer, the high 
 est mountain in the high, steep range across the Dead-
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 153 
 
 wood. Beyond this range somewhere was our snow- 
 shoer s destination. 
 
 The sun now, as the months of spring in more 
 favored localities were near at hand, was higher in the 
 heavens, and a mildness in the air, through which its 
 rays came down upon the sleeping man, helped out 
 the hard bed the logs on which he lay made, and gave 
 him more restful sleep than he had yet had, and it 
 was well towards sundown when the uneasy turnings 
 his rough couch caused him to make were disturbing 
 enough to awaken him. 
 
 He doled out to himself his prescribed ration of 
 bread and jerked meat, and taking a drink of water, 
 Bud began again his monotonous tramp. Under the 
 genial sun and in the warm air the snow had softened, 
 and laboriously he plodded on, his shoes clogging and 
 sinking deeply. It was well along in the night when 
 he crossed the divide into Bear Yalley and experienced 
 the delightful sensation of being helped by his shoes, 
 instead of retarded, as he went down hill. Towards 
 morning the snow became a little hard again. Aided 
 by the light from the now only occasionally percept 
 ible moon, he directed his course towards the point 
 where its light had shown him, from the divide, the 
 mountain range in which seemed to lie the two peaks 
 his way should lead between; and through the flat 
 valley, which had gradually narrowed, and beside a 
 stream which, frozen over here and there, sluggishly 
 traversed it, he made his way with weary body but 
 stout heart. If he could only get back in time; if he 
 could only bring some relief; if there was anything 
 that could relieve ! At times the snow would be hard 
 enough to bear him, and then he would sink in it a
 
 154 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 few inches, but still, with unconquerable determina 
 tion, with unfaltering, persistent stride, he slowly put 
 the miles behind him. 
 
 As morning neared, the snow was stiffer, and he 
 made up his mind to plod along until the sun of another 
 day should soften it. With machine-like regularity he 
 moved his legs, sliding the shoes along, counting their 
 movements as he might the swinging pendulum of some 
 great clock, and checking off each hundred steps upon 
 his fingers. Dawn came, and the machine was work 
 ing; the sun rose, and still the measured swing of leg 
 kept on, and hot fell the solar beams before was turned 
 off from it the steam of the strong will that had made 
 Bud s numbed limbs respond to its impelling force as 
 does steel shaft in the engines made in shops to the 
 vapors of water. 
 
 He had now been out three days and more, and it 
 was with delight that he saw Bernard Mountain to the 
 right and nearly even with him; Scott s Peak he could 
 see also, and between them, right in his course, the 
 Dead wood Range, across which his way lay. He made 
 his fire well down from the divide, towards the Dead- 
 wood. 
 
 Fortunately, when he awoke from his sleep, a grow 
 ing coldness in the air and a clear sky indicated that 
 the storm he had dreaded had gone by, and bespoke 
 for him better travelling. He rose very weary, but 
 his goal seemed nearing, and with a lighter heart he 
 again began his tramp. 
 
 In some ten miles or thereabouts he crossed the 
 Dead wood where it ran slowly and the ice had bridged 
 it, and began the toilsome climbing of the mountain 
 that to the south of it separated such settlements as
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 155 
 
 there then were from the wilderness through which he 
 had come. The snow was hard, not with that solid, 
 icy hardness that makes ascent tedious from the slip 
 ping back of the shoes, but hard enough to sustain 
 them, with only enough of sinking to keep them from 
 slipping. A new strength had come to him ; he was 
 on the last forty miles, he knew, and only forty miles 
 away lay Zeb s possible salvation ; now it was thirty- 
 nine, and now it was thirty -eight, and though steep 
 and rough was the way, his rising spirits gave vim and 
 vigor to him. By early morning he was on the 
 divide, and the fast-coming light saw him riding on 
 his shoes with the speed of the wind, decreasing the 
 distance before him as the long downward stretches 
 gave him opportunity, and climbing again some small 
 rise that raised the grade, which, from the summit of 
 these mountains, drops to the south fork of the Pay- 
 ette, almost three thousand feet, in a little over twenty 
 miles. By noon the fork of the Payette lay before 
 him, only a few miles away, and by two o clock he 
 was on its bank and searching for solid ice to cross on ; 
 this he found, and up into the quickly rising ground 
 from it he went.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A HIGH range of hills encircles with its rim the Boise 
 Basin, in which lie Idaho City, Centreville, and Placer- 
 ville, centres for trade and traffic of the region about 
 them. In them are dwelling-houses, China shacks, 
 saloons, gambling-houses, mercantile establishments, 
 and such other structures as the needs, virtues, and 
 vices of their indwellers demand. Law and Medicine 
 represent there the learned professions, the Church 
 only intermittingly venturing into the field, and grop 
 ing with irresolute and vacillating endeavors after the 
 souls whose earthly forms serve in its traffic, support 
 its saloons, or through the long winter are lined up 
 against the big stoves that warm the resorts of sale 
 and barter or the temples of Bacchus. Much given 
 are the winter frequenters of these towns to tales of 
 their own valor in the past, and to reminiscences of 
 glorious bygone times when gold was to be had, it 
 seems, for the mere picking up of the nuggets ; sink 
 ing deep shafts, running great tunnels, building great 
 ditches, in their minds, that, when the working season 
 comes, will have melted away as has the snow that 
 clogs the streets. 
 
 The virtues of such centres are their own, and they 
 are strong and many; their follies have either an 
 amusing or a pitiful side, and the sum of them all is 
 expressed in such good-natured, hearty good will and
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 157 
 
 helpfulness for all physical suffering, that whoever has 
 not a warm place in his heart for the dwellers in them 
 knows them not. 
 
 The stores had closed, and the more domestic and 
 home-loving population of Placerville were asleep. On 
 three sides of the Plaza, which occupies the centre 
 of the little town, the light streamed from the saloon 
 windows, where were going on faro and poker, jigger, 
 and the other games of cards which serve to circu 
 late for a time the loose money of the community 
 among the votaries of chance and the temporary 
 believers in their own skill or luck, and which, when 
 spring comes, have it all securely stowed away in the 
 safes of the saloon keepers. 
 
 There was hard drinking and rough words, with 
 many an oath, in one of them, when, at the top of 
 their speed, came two foaming horses, dragging a 
 sleigh in which were two men, one driving, the other 
 half lying in the bottom. The noise of the sleigh and 
 its panting horses brought all to the door, save some 
 keen gamblers, who, at one or the other of the green 
 baize-covered tables in the big room, were too much 
 absorbed in their game to even turn their heads. 
 
 " What s up, Joe? " said the first one out. 
 
 " I ve got a man here all beat out and wants to see 
 the doctor. His pardner s sick somewhere in the moun 
 tains on Salmon, and he s come in for medicine; he s 
 bout give out himself. Here, some of ye help me in 
 with him." 
 
 But Bud, for it was he, needed little help, and came 
 into the great room, the centre of a crowd of sympa 
 thizing friends. These men took in the situation at a 
 glance. They knew where the mountains " on Sal-
 
 158 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 mon were, and the long miles away they were ; they 
 knew the toil it was to come from them; they felt the 
 strength of the tie that made this young fellow take 
 such a trip for his partner, and one look at him, as 
 worn and stiff he stood among them, waked the 
 gentleness and sympathy which, deep down in the 
 natures of such men, but needs some like cause to 
 bring it to the surface. 
 
 " Sit down here. Bring the man some whiskey, 
 can t ye?" roared out the deep voice of the saloon 
 keeper to the man behind the bar. Put some wood 
 in, Link, and start up the fire. Down with the whis 
 key and warm up," he said to Bud; "you had a long 
 trip, hadn t ye?" This one asked him if his boots 
 had better not come off, and started to pull them ; and 
 another ran to his cabin and came back with a great 
 pile of cold beans on a tin plate, insisting he must eat; 
 while a giant of a man ordered the bar-keeper to bring 
 cigars; and all with ready sympathy stood around 
 him, asking no questions, but evidently waiting for 
 him to speak. 
 
 The driver had put up his horses and came in, and 
 up to the bar, after seeing that Bud was being prop 
 erly attended to. 
 
 Leave him alone, he said. He s dead for sleep, 
 and the whiskey and the fire will do him good; " and 
 as he spoke, Bud dropped into a slumber. 
 
 As they all ranged up against the bar, Joe Ladd, a 
 rancher in a valley twelve miles away, told his story. 
 
 " I was up the hill, cross Alder Creek, looking out a 
 tree to make shakes, and see this feller coming along; 
 he was some ways off, but soon as I see him I knew 
 he was beat out. He d push the shoes, and then he d
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 159 
 
 stop and almost fall down, and then he d plug along, 
 and he fell, but he got up agin, and he had hard work 
 to do it. I ran down to him, and he says, Where is 
 Placerville, and is there a doctor there ? 
 
 " He said his partner was sick; he was come to see 
 a doctor and get something for him. He was clean 
 give out, and said he d come one hundred and fifty 
 miles, and way below Cape Horn. I helped him 
 along, for he was about snow-blind, and got him down 
 to the cabin. Take me to the doctor, he says; I 
 must see him. I wanted him to lay over till morn 
 ing, but he said every hour counted, so I hitched up 
 the horses and brought him in here." 
 
 The doctor had been aroused by some one, and came 
 in just as Bud woke up. The stimulant and his short 
 sleep had a little refreshed him, and he told the doctor 
 the circumstances of Zeb s injury, and gave as accurate 
 an account of his symptoms as possible, answering 
 the kind and searching questions of the doctor as best 
 he could. 
 
 "From what you say," said the medical man, 
 "there maybe any one of several internal injuries, 
 and all of them are bad ; most of them fatal in time. 
 There is a chance, however, that by proper keeping up 
 of his strength, and so giving nature a show, he may 
 pull through; it s only a chance, though." 
 
 " Can t you come back with me and see him ? " said 
 Bud. 
 
 "I couldn t do that," the doctor said. "I never 
 was on snowshoes, and I never could make it. I ain t 
 a hearty man, and it would be the death of me. No, 
 I can t go." 
 
 "I d pay you anything, doctor. I haven t got much
 
 160 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 here, but I ve some money in the bank, and I ve got 
 a gold watch here, and I ve got a good claim, and so 
 has Zeb, my partner." 
 
 " It s not to be thought of. I m sorry I can t, but 
 I could never stand it; " and his weak physique told 
 Bud plainly that it was so. 
 
 " Then, doctor, give me what you can, for I must go 
 back in the morning." 
 
 " You can t do that, man; you are weak, and you 
 are blind nearly. You must rest up a bit, or you ll 
 never make it." 
 
 " I shall go in the morning, doctor," said Bud. " I 
 couldn t rest and Zeb dying; every minute is of im 
 portance. I m going. 
 
 All tried to dissuade him, but to no purpose. 
 
 A little knot of men had gathered in a corner, and 
 among them Joe the rancher. 
 
 1 Fix up your stuff, doctor, he said. Some of the 
 boys and me has made it up. We ll leave here along 
 late tomorrow, and I ll carry him and Jack Sinclair 
 and Bill Strong in the sleigh up as far as I can, and Bill 
 and Jack will help him on a piece, may be to the 
 Dead wood; top of the divide, any way. The snow 
 will be hard by the time he ll have to snowshoe." 
 
 The doctor put a poultice of raw potatoes on Bud s 
 eyes, which now pained him intolerably, and promised 
 to make up such medicines as might do Zeb some 
 good. Bud was put to bed, and soon the town was 
 still. 
 
 The next day Bud s eyes were very bad, but the 
 pain had gone; he could barely see, however. The 
 story had gotten over the little community, and 
 all were interested. The watch vendor, who styled
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 161 
 
 himself, in black letters on a big white sign that 
 strung itself across the front of his modest shop, 
 "watchmaker and jeweller," a sour, crabbed man, 
 unsocial and repelling, came into the saloon where 
 Bud sat by the fire, and putting in his hand a pair of 
 snow-glasses, said, "Take them; they ll help you;" 
 and darted out again as if afraid he might repent of 
 his generosity if he stopped a second, closing the door 
 to a chorus of "I ll be dang d! " and " Bless me! " 
 from the observers, who had never seen such a side 
 to him. The landlady of the hotel gave her kindly 
 heart the rein and killed some chickens, which her 
 Chinese cook roasted, and these, with various other 
 dainties, she sent to Bud. Old Hock Harris left his 
 accustomed seat before the great stove in the brick 
 store, and forced on him part of a bottle of what he 
 told him was "the likeliest thing he ever see for a 
 man was caved on; " a box of cigars and bottles of 
 whiskey came from the other saloons, and advice was 
 volunteered him by almost every one. 
 
 The big store-keeper sent word to him to come in 
 and take what he wanted, and the principal gambler 
 of the place appeared with the most expensive pair of 
 boots money would buy, and gave them to him, while 
 a natty faro dealer insisted on his donning a new thirty- 
 dollar suit at his expense. Even Sam Sing, the boss 
 Chinaman, came in with half a dozen green "china 
 plasters," which he said were in such a case "heap 
 good." 
 
 The kindness of all touched Bud. He tried to 
 
 restrain this unlooked for and unnecessary liberality, 
 
 but soon seeing it would be matter of offence if he 
 
 refused any thing, the green table near him was cov- 
 
 11
 
 162 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 ered with ever augmenting evidences of that touching 
 of the popular heart which in like communities the 
 sufferings and necessities of the veriest stranger pro 
 duces. 
 
 He could pay for nothing. " Yer money ain t good 
 here," was the way all, even the doctor, put it; and 
 he could only thank, with warm heart, the kindly 
 folks who bade him " Good-by " and " Good luck for 
 ye, as, after noon, Joe and his two friends started 
 away with him in the sleigh. 
 
 Having, fortunately for him, not subjected himself 
 to the glare of the sun on the snow, except on the last 
 day, Bud s eyes, though weak and hardly of any use 
 to him, had not been so badly hurt as to bring on a 
 severe case of snow-blindness, and they had already 
 begun to mend, for he had kept them closed under his 
 new snow-glasses as they rode along. 
 
 The ride, for he was comfortably seated, seemed to 
 rest him, and when in the early evening the horses 
 had brought them as far as they could, some sixteen 
 miles from Placerville, he felt better than he had ex 
 pected, and ready to try the snowshoes again, his body 
 somewhat strained and weary, but his heart cheered 
 by the helpful spirit of all he had met, and with the 
 hope of relief he had for Zeb. 
 
 He could not carry a tenth of the many things that 
 had been forced on him and which were in the sleigh. 
 The doctor s medicines, a bottle of whiskey, some of 
 the provisions, and the coat of the suit he took, leav 
 ing the other things with an injunction to the good- 
 natured rancher to take care of them. Jack and Bill, 
 his companions, thinking it was necessary, took a 
 bottle of whiskey each, and some of the provisions.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 163 
 
 With the best wishes of Joe Ladd, the trio started ; 
 his new friends insisted on carrying his load, and in 
 single file, Jack Sinclair in the lead, they began to 
 climb into the mountains. 
 
 Both of his companions were hardy mountaineers, 
 but the winter s rest and dissipation had added fat 
 to their frames, and, even worn as he was, Bud was 
 better on the shoes, so that aside from their taking his 
 load, and their company, he was rather retarded than 
 helped by them ; however, if they held him back, the 
 somewhat slow and deliberate progress made drew less 
 on the reserve of strength he had. 
 
 Morning found them well over the divide, and Bud 
 insisted that there was no need of their keeping on 
 farther, and somewhat reluctantly the kind-hearted 
 fellows parted with him. Taking his load and thank 
 ing them for their well-meant exertions, he took the 
 down grade towards the Deadwood. 
 
 A few miles farther on he made his fire, and, eating 
 something, curled up on the logs and slept, starting 
 again as night came on. All that night he plodded 
 on. It was getting warmer, and the snow was soft, 
 making progress very difficult. He struck his old 
 tracks and they encouraged him, for they led where 
 he was going, and seemed to connect him with Zeb. 
 " If I can only get to him in time ; if I can only bring 
 some help to him," he thought; but there had been that 
 in what the doctor said, and in the way he said it, that 
 told him how desperate he thought Zeb s case was, and 
 it grieved him to the heart and filled his mind with 
 apprehension, though it no whit diminished his persist 
 ence. He had often to stop, and the consciousness 
 came over him of waning strength; but if his legs
 
 164 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 were weary and his back and thigh muscles sore and 
 stiff, his heart was strong, and through the clogging 
 snow and up the rising ground he pushed his shoes. 
 
 The night was overcast, masses of clouds gathering, 
 through which the moon, now full, as it came up, only 
 at times shone faintly out ; there was a storm brewing, 
 and that added to Bud s intense eagerness to go on. 
 Morning found him only just over the divide, into 
 Bear Yalley, and there he felt he must stop to rest. 
 He awoke after a few hours sleep, and though it was 
 still long to sundown, he started on his way. He ran 
 in his old track, for there the snow was harder, but it 
 was slow, tedious work ; before night came he stopped 
 again where Elk Creek, coming from the south, joins 
 the Bear Yalley stream, and rested an hour or more, 
 and then at it again. 
 
 Night shut down with thickening clouds all over the 
 heavens, and there came a gentle sighing of a wind 
 that he felt would in time bring up the storm he 
 feared. There was no moon all night; the sickly 
 haze of light as it rose indicated that it was above the 
 clouds; but no sight of the round orb came to cheer 
 him. All night he dragged along. He would stop 
 and get his breath, for the exertion was great, and 
 when a little chilly from his damp clothes, for they 
 were steaming from the perspiration his efforts caused, 
 he would start again and monotonously stride on. 
 He felt he must not stop, and so into the next morn 
 ing the shoes ploughed on. At Cape Horn he stopped, 
 weary beyond belief, lighted his fire, and threw him 
 self down for fitful and little restful sleep. 
 
 That day the clouds broke and at night came a little 
 frost; the snow stiffened, and in his old track he
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 165 
 
 walked with less fatigue than before, making good 
 headway, and cheered in spite of his wasting strength 
 by the thought he was nearing Zeb. 
 
 In two more days he would be with him to save him 
 if there was salvation for him, to care for him if there 
 was not. But there came with morning another 
 change; the dark lines of clouds, repulsed in their 
 first attack, came now in better order, well closed up, 
 like an army which, marching on in scattered and 
 unprepared condition, is driven back by some tempo 
 rary and unexpected onset of its foes, but when the 
 surprise is over reforms its disciplined battalions into 
 lines of battle as solid and orderly as they seem irre 
 sistible. 
 
 So were the forces of the storm moving on, every 
 gap filled, great solid masses. All day, as the tired 
 man slept, were new divisions, heavier batteries 
 massed, and when Bud woke the light skirmishing had 
 begun. He brushed the snow from him ; every hour 
 was precious now, and, nerved by the new obstacle, he 
 jumped on his shoes, and eating his bread and meat 
 as he walked, pushed on. 
 
 Of all the contests man wages with the elements, 
 none is more appalling than when a snow-storm in the 
 mountains meets one in some such condition of strength 
 as Bud then was, whose knowledge of the way is as 
 superficial as was his. Besides the retarding effects 
 of accumulating snow there comes this serious, often 
 deadly, effect: The vision, limited to a few yards, 
 distorted and uncertain as it peers through the falling 
 snow, can get no familiar object in its short range; 
 and even if one there should be, so changes its appear 
 ance that one fails to recognize it, or thinks he sees
 
 166 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 some remembered rock or tree, and, lured by it, turns 
 aside to wander in labyrinths of alternate hope and 
 despair, until exhausted he sinks a victim to the ruth 
 less, inexorable tempest. 
 
 Bud knew this, but while his tracks could be traced 
 there was no danger, for they led back to the cabin, 
 and some depth of snow would have to fall to entirely 
 obliterate them; still it was a danger which required 
 him to strain every nerve to get as far along as he 
 could before the track was gone. At first the flakes 
 came scattered and hesitatingly, but they grew more 
 frequent as the evening came on, and settled down at 
 last to a steady fall. 
 
 As hour after hour passed and the depth of snow 
 increased, the pace which Bud had taken and kept, 
 particularly as his way was now up and down over 
 the ridges and depressions which mark in every 
 mountain country the incoming of tributaries into a 
 main stream, began to exhaust him. The necessity of 
 using each hour to the best advantage sustained him 
 in a degree, however, and he kept on with the same 
 dogged perseverance that had so long animated him. 
 
 As day came, many inches of snow covered his old 
 snowshoe marks, and it was now more rapidly nearing 
 the time when they would quite disappear. His mind 
 concentrated itself on one thing, the getting to Zeb as 
 quickly as he could. 
 
 When morning fully broke he was, he judged, only 
 thirty miles away from the cabin, but the growing 
 difficulties of the impeding snow, and the certainty 
 that soon the lines marking the old tracks beneath 
 would no longer be a guide to him, caused his stout 
 heart to feel more apprehension than ever before.
 
 YELLOW PINE SASIN 167 
 
 He would not stop so long as he could trace the 
 course, and not until the blank white surface before 
 him was unbroken by a single indication of the trail it 
 concealed, and until even it was no longer to be seen 
 now and then faintly discernible under trees where the 
 snow, warded off by the overhanging boughs, fell less 
 deeply, did he stop to take a needed rest and to pre 
 pare for what he knew was to be a hard fight for his 
 own life as well as Zeb s. 
 
 He made a fire with difficulty, the snow having 
 dampened such dry wood as he could find; he ate 
 almost the last of his provisions and laid himself down 
 to some such sleep as awaits the man whose mind is 
 prepared for its being his last, save that long one we 
 must all some time take. But exhaustion, and perhaps 
 something of that desperation whose benumbing effect 
 brings oblivion to the criminal on the night before his 
 execution, gave Bud sleep, and he waked somewhat 
 refreshed, to make that test of endurance and courage 
 than which no sterner ever comes to man. 
 
 He went over in his mind the way he must take ; he 
 called up every tree whose appearance was different 
 from its fellows; every marked rock, every little rise 
 and fall of ground he could think of that might serve 
 either as a signboard to direct him on the road, or as 
 a confirmation of his position. One thing he knew, 
 he must keep along the river at such distance from it 
 as might be, as there was in that some guide. 
 
 He must leave that course and strike up to the left 
 to cross the divide into Yellow Pine Basin, and there 
 he felt would come the crisis; should he turn too 
 soon, he might wander into a maze of rough country 
 where he would unconsciously pass the heads of the
 
 168 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 little streams that, winding through the basin, seek the 
 river ; should he go too far before turning, he might 
 miss the basin altogether, only skirting its side. He 
 thought he could in time find the cabin, even then, but 
 time meant Zeb s life, probably, as well as his own, 
 for he felt he was nearing the limit of his powers. 
 
 Try as he might, he could not recall any object that 
 in such a bewildering storm as was then raging would 
 be near enough for him to see, and which would indi 
 cate when he was to turn aside. For ten miles or more 
 he felt he could keep the way; beyond that, unless 
 Providence or fortune should interpose, his mission 
 would be a failure, and his life but another one of the 
 long list whom the storms of earth have swept to 
 death. 
 
 Tightening his belt, nerving his spirit, he slipped on 
 his shoes. Now had come his last weary march ; was 
 it to lead to the little cabin, where, weak, and he felt 
 now almost despairing, Zeb patiently awaited his com 
 ing with the balm of health, for now that ever reach 
 ing him was so doubtful, the doctor s compounds 
 seemed of magic, unquestionable virtue; or was it to 
 end on some storm-swept hillside, where his bleaching 
 bones would in time crumble into nothingness and his 
 memory only be, in the minds of those he most loved, 
 a mystery as to whether he had been thief or honest 
 man? 
 
 To high spirits there comes with danger, and prob 
 ably approaching death, a clearness of the faculties, a 
 command, physical and mental, of themselves, that 
 awakes latent strength of muscle, gives sinew new 
 elasticity and tenseness, and puts mind to its highest. 
 
 There was safety for himself, almost surely, if he
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 169 
 
 would stop, husbanding his little stock of provisions, 
 till such time as the storm would be over, but that 
 never came to Bud ; he was too loyal to his friend to 
 desert him in his need, even though he knew death 
 stood between them. "With loyalty that deviated not, 
 with courage that was unfaltering in the desperate 
 strait he was himself in, Bud left his camp. 
 
 The storm was furious, and the snow in blinding 
 sheets shut out any object a hundred feet away; with 
 out cessation or break came down the white flakes, 
 like cotton particles, weaving, as they touched the 
 earth, a great winding-sheet that seemed ready, yes, 
 hungry, to enfold him. Such trees as through this 
 film his eyes could see, white covered, like the marble 
 monuments in a cemetery, gave such ghostly sameness 
 to the way, that the stout heart seemed to walk with 
 death s banners at his side through long avenues lead 
 ing to where his dreaded foe, lance in rest, awaited 
 him. 
 
 Bud had, as I have said, something to direct him ; for 
 though at a distance above and away from it, the river 
 was in the course he was to take. With all his failing 
 strength he ploughed his way through the soft, new- 
 fallen snow, going too high here and too low there, 
 and so adding to the distance by his blundering path, 
 but he went on. Little it mattered now whether day 
 or night surrounded him, for any guidance he might 
 have. The night was nearly over when he had to come 
 to a decision to turn into the mountains. Should he 
 turn now? No, he would go on farther, for he 
 thought he had better make sure of not turning too 
 soon, even if he might go too low. But at last he was 
 sure he had gone down far enough, and stopping a few
 
 170 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 minutes for breath, and as far as possible to satisfy 
 himself that he was right, he changed his course and 
 struck up into the hills. 
 
 The ascent was steep ; over two feet of new snow 
 had fallen since the storm began, and Bud sank so 
 deeply in it that movement was very difficult ; he could 
 only go a few feet at a time, his long-continued exer 
 tions had so weakened him. He took off his shoes and 
 wallowed through the snow, carrying them ; on hands 
 and knees he burrowed along. He put the shoes on 
 again, straining like some good swimmer nearly ex 
 hausted, but still combating an adverse current, hardly 
 gaining distance as it seemed to him, but yet gaining. 
 
 Work against it as he might, there was creeping 
 over him a numbness of the legs, a stiffening of his 
 back and thigh muscles, and, worst of all, a suspicion 
 that his mind was beginning to wander. Old scenes 
 came to him trifling, long-forgotten incidents of his 
 childhood ; his bitter experience in New York ; a fair 
 face, now a little fond, now changed as doubt and 
 suspicion moulded its plastic and expressive features ; 
 Zeb s peril all with panoramic movement passed 
 before him. With an effort of will he tried to fix his 
 mind on one thing, Zeb s waiting, patient face, and 
 concentrated his attention on the little cabin, the goal 
 of his strivings. He went over every detail of its 
 homely architecture, every interior fitting in its rude 
 appointments the great fireplace, Zeb s bunk with its 
 wan, weak occupant. 
 
 " I will," he said, "go there; the demons of the 
 storm shall not hold me back. I will keep my senses ; 
 I am coming, Zeb; " and then, with a spurt of energy 
 and strength, he would gain a little distance, till, from
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 171 
 
 very inability, he would have to stop and breathe. 
 Then would come over him a torpor of both mind and 
 body, with an almost irresistible impulse to throw 
 himself down. lie knew if he did he would sink into 
 sleep, and with all the powers of a mind naturally 
 strong, and an absorbing, overmastering devotion to 
 his friend, he combated the desire. He would start, 
 to stop and go over it all again. 
 
 Noon came and passed, and with tenacity of pur 
 pose, holding before his eyes the cabin, brushing 
 aside the ever-gathering legions of sirens that would 
 lull him to stop and rest, his will power contracting 
 and expanding his muscles, he moved on. No longer 
 had he strength, no longer vigor of body ; matter was 
 exhausted, mind sustained him. 
 
 At last he reached the summit, but he did not stop; 
 down the hill he walked, slid, staggered, but on 
 always; with all the resolution he had he kept the 
 one thing before him. 
 
 He could not recognize an object he had ever seen ; 
 he doubted if his course was right, but now he had no 
 choice; the little strength that was in him must be 
 spent in going on. If he was wrong, all was gone 
 Zeb s life, his. It was a desperate chance, but it was 
 the only one. Night came, and stumbling up and 
 down, erratic, waving from side to side, he went on. 
 The fancies of delirium came to him ; but like a fine, 
 hot sun his singleness of purpose, his unconquerable 
 determination, every now and then broke through the 
 clouds and mists that passed athwart his mind, and 
 were as light to his path. 
 
 Fantastic shapes the snow -laden trees assumed 
 tombs of past pleasures, palaces of new ones yet to
 
 172 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 come ; dead faces, living ones ; but behind him, as he 
 turned, ever two fiery lights that seemed to follow, 
 keeping pace with him, not twinkling stars, but fixed, 
 steady, horrible in their persistence. Once he fancied 
 he heard a growl ; but was it only a false note in the 
 strains of music, gay, pensive, sombre, that rang in 
 his ears as the sirens sang? At last his benumbed 
 faculties gave reality to these following, stalking 
 lights; a cougar was on his path, biding its time 
 till weak from fatigue he should drop and be his 
 prey. 
 
 He laughed; what dread had he of beast when the 
 air was full of gathering ghastly angels of death, and 
 those of fairer form who, under guise of soft bland 
 ishments, were wooing him to restful annihilation ? 
 
 His spirits rose. " Beasts or devils, I am coming, 
 Zeb! I am coming," he said, he shouted, and through 
 the snow he wound his uncertain, staggering way. 
 But now the foe was on him. Delirium held him, 
 perched on his shoulders, her tightening, fateful fin 
 gers clutching at his throat. All feeling of conscious 
 ness was gone, but still was left that other power mind 
 has in dire extremity to work its unseen will on senses 
 slumbering meanwhile. Even with more directness, 
 even with more vigor than before, went on the body, 
 while in a thousand wayside paths strayed off Bud s 
 wandering senses. 
 
 He knew nothing more in after years he could 
 recall nothing more until, standing before a stump 
 from which the axe had cut the tree, a ray of light, 
 flickering, but light, stole into his mind. 
 
 Thank God!" he thought, "it s the snowshoe 
 tree Zeb cut; " and off he started from it, true as an
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 173 
 
 arrow, to the cabin, his mind cleared from all illu 
 sions. 
 
 He left his shoes before the canvas door and 
 stumbled into the cabin. "Zeb, I am here. Zeb," 
 he called. No answer came, and there was no fire; 
 an awful silence was there. Uncertain, trembling, 
 he made his way through the darkness to Zeb s bunk, 
 and put out a questioning hand as cold as the still face 
 his fingers touched. 
 
 " Dead! dead! " he said, and fell unconscious on the 
 floor.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THROUGH the canvas at the door and the cracks 
 between the logs of the cabin, daylight came filtering 
 in. Dazed and wandering, Bud awoke from the sleep 
 of exhaustion and the shock of the great sorrow and 
 calamity that had come to him; awoke as one from a 
 troubled dream, and slowly collected his senses. He 
 was in the cabin, he saw, and then memory came back, 
 and painfully, slowly rising, every muscle aching, 
 stiff and worn and faint, he stood up and looked on 
 all that was left of his friend. He moved away and 
 sank into the chair on which lay the monster skin of 
 the silver tip, his elbows on his knees, and his face 
 buried in his hands. 
 
 Weakened as he was by the terrible and long-con 
 tinued strain of the last ten days, lack of food and 
 sleep, now that the stimulus of hope was gone, mak 
 ing him weaker still, he burst into a flood of tears. 
 11 Too late! Too late! " he sobbed, and then the awful 
 loneliness of his position came to him and quieted him. 
 He had much to do, and he must do it. Weak as he 
 was, he must do what was to be done alone. 
 
 When the first burst of irrepressible sorrow had 
 passed, Bud made a fire, and drank and ate to put the 
 strength in him he felt was so greatly needed, and 
 then before the warm fire he dropped asleep again. 
 An hour or two he slept, and woke clearer in mind, 
 but so lame and weak that he could hardly move.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 175 
 
 Zeb lay as death had found him. His peaceful face 
 told how quietly and gently the bold spirit had parted 
 from the weak, scarred frame it had animated. One 
 hand lay on his heart, clutching a faded, crumpled 
 piece of blue ribbon; the other, by his side, had its 
 dead fingers holding the little buckskin sack he had in 
 life so greatly prized ; on the bed was the Testament 
 he had kept on his shelf. 
 
 The tears came in Bud s eyes; his heart was heavy 
 as over the lifeless clay he recalled the sterling virtues 
 of the man, and felt the void his death must make. 
 But there pressed on him, even as he looked, the 
 necessities that death involves, and he turned away to 
 consider how he might, in his loneliness and solitude, 
 do such decent and fitting putting away of what 
 remained to claim his sorrowful and tender care as 
 time and place allowed. 
 
 On the table, in the litter that told of Zeb s having 
 taken bread and drink, lay evidences of a somewhat 
 recent movement, and as his eye took in the crusts and 
 crumbs and half-empty tin cup, he saw his name in 
 big, wandering letters on a folded paper. He took it 
 up, and opening it, read: 
 
 "For all ye done, Bud, I thank ye, but it s no 
 good. I m a-going, and I can t wait no ten days; 
 twouldn t be no good, ennyway. I m called, and I ve 
 got to go. 
 
 " I orter told ye mor n I did, but ye send the let 
 ter to Jim Peasley, and the money ; he ll know where 
 it s to go. Don tye be a-lonely nor afeered; jes 
 think I m gone. Wrap me in my blankits, with the 
 sack I tol ye in my shirt, and put me under the p int, 
 nigh the claim. There was never no man, Bud, I took 
 to as I has to ye, cept Yank.
 
 176 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 " When ye gits the dust, go to New York and fight 
 that thing out. Be keerful bout yer gun; have it 
 where ye can draw handy and quick. I can t give 
 ye no advice like that ; always keep yer gun handy. 
 Git one of them Smith & Wesson s six-inch barrels; I 
 got great conceit on em. Keep my old gun and give 
 it to the little feller we was a- talking bout. He ll 
 come, I know he will, and ye ll be happy, and ye ll be 
 a considerabel man, I see ye will. Don t let old 
 Bally have no grain, never; it ain t no good for him. 
 Take some dust outen my sheer, and put him where 
 he ll have good grass and water, and nay in winter, 
 long s he lives. 
 
 " T was a foolish thing yer going to the doctor s, 
 and I m afeered for ye, Bud; but I leeves ye where I 
 am, in the hands of God, and I prays he ll see to you 
 in the snow and the storm. 
 
 " I hain t no feer. What comes I ll take it, and if 
 so be I ll be with Yank. I don t ask no more. 
 
 " Bud, my; boy, my boy, I m a-desartin of ye, but 
 I can t help it. 
 
 "Let the little feller grow up to love his country 
 and the flag. Tell him bout Yank. 
 
 " Eddication s good, but the idee of the country 
 and the flag, that s the main p int. 
 
 " Tell her I would ha liked to see her putty face 
 and the children, and that I said as how twould come 
 out right. Be a kind o soft and easy with her, Bud ; 
 wimmin ain t like men. 
 
 " O Bud, I hates to leeve ye, but it s jes got to be 
 so. When ye go to catch Bally, take some salt, and 
 he ll come to ye. Tell the old cuss I m gone; he ll 
 know. He s got the dangdest sence of any noss I ever 
 see. 
 
 " Ye ll do all these things, Bud. 
 
 " Don t ye have no feer of me when I m in the 
 ground. I ll stay thar. 
 
 Do the best ye can, and mind yer gun, Bud. The 
 
 tt
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 177 
 
 love I has for ye, boy, makes it a hard thing, Bud, 
 but we mus stan it. Don t ye take it to heart. I 
 ain t in no wise a-crawlin . 60 far as I go, cept for 
 ye, I ain t no ways sorry. Good-by. God bless ye, 
 feud, my boy. 
 
 "ZEB." 
 
 With what effort and laborious care this was writ 
 ten, it s straggling, uncertain lines gave proof. From 
 its rude letters and expressions shone out the kindly 
 heart, the courage that went down to death unruffled 
 by a fear. 
 
 " God, in his infinite mercy," he said, "judge you, 
 Zeb. Surely the spirit must be more than the letter 
 of the law, and as your light was, so you kept it." 
 
 But there was that to be done he dreaded, but must 
 do, and with tender, caressing hands he straightened 
 the old man s limbs as best he could. 
 
 On his heart, under his hand and the ribbon it held, 
 was pinned what he had never seen on him before, 
 the eagle and the colors, the insignia of the Grand 
 Army, and Bud thought to himself that never had it 
 lain over heart more loyal, or evidenced more faithful 
 and devoted service to the land whose safety and whose 
 glory was to the old man a religion. 
 
 He took from his fingers the buckskin sack, its open 
 mouth giving a glimpse of a scrap of frayed bunting 
 and the end of a short clay pipe. The one he remem 
 bered as a piece of the old flag Yank had died with, 
 and that Zeb had afterwards so lovingly borne; the 
 other, as Yank s pipe he had given him just before the 
 battle, as Zeb had told him. 
 
 When all was ready, Bud put the little sack on his 
 breast, under the coarse woollen shirt he had replaced 
 12
 
 178 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 on him, for he would not remove from it the badge 
 Zeb s almost dying hands must have pinned there. 
 The ribbon his hand held he left there, and the hand 
 he replaced as he had found it. Reverently he wound 
 Zeb s blankets around him, and, when all was done, 
 went to the point his letter had spoken of, which over 
 looked the "diggins," and, clearing away the snow, 
 began with pick and shovel to dig the grave. It was 
 nearly dark when he had finished his sad labors, for he 
 was weak, and his overstrained limbs were stiif and 
 aching. Enfeebled as he was, he felt he must take 
 another day for the burial, and he limped back to the 
 cabin. 
 
 That night, as darkness fell, his loneliness came over 
 him with such a sense of its awful meaning as he had 
 not felt before. The silence, unbroken, save by the 
 occasional snapping of the fire and his own move 
 ments, gave him that awesome sensation the presence 
 of death inspires ; but now that his mind had in a way 
 recovered from the appalling fact, the future, a future 
 there without Zeb, in utter loneliness, without com 
 panionship, seemed something he could not endure. 
 He would, after the sad duty of the morrow was over, 
 leave Yellow Pine Basin forever, and go somewhere, 
 anywhere, in search of other human beings, but his 
 promise to Zeb prevented. No, he must remain there 
 to carry out the last wishes of his friend. 
 
 Then his mind went back to the old mountaineer, 
 who, in his blankets, lay a cold, dread, awful reminder 
 of his duty. "What a nature was his! he thought. 
 All of it many would think so common and so rough, 
 but through the rudeness of it shone out to Bud the 
 man, tender, considerate, loyal, fearless.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 179 
 
 Every day he could remember emanated from it some 
 touch of gentleness, some kindly, cheery saying, some 
 hearty act of thoughtful care for him, and then came 
 to him flashes of the stern, just, brave spirit that, 
 under all the trials of a life so exacting in its calls 
 on manhood, was always ready, eager, to respond in 
 determined purpose, honest action, and brave deed. 
 
 As he sat he thought, " Why should the poor dead 
 flesh there be repellent to me, when it was the frame 
 of a spirit so gentle and so true, whose last words to 
 me, written while his strength was fading, were so 
 full of kindly feeling? " And getting into his bunk, 
 he drew the blankets over him and slept. 
 
 In the bright sunshine of the morning, for the storm 
 was over, he carried to the open grave the poor rem 
 nant of what had been so much to him. Weighted 
 with the sad load he bore, Bud s lame, strained frame 
 staggered on, but more weary and sore was the heart 
 within. Tenderly he laid him in his final resting 
 place, his shroud but a red woollen shirt, his coffin but 
 the blankets from his bed. 
 
 Among his belongings Bud had a Book of Common 
 Prayer, and over the senseless form he read the solemn 
 service of the Church, dropping the earth as the words 
 " dust to dust " were spoken. He filled in the earth, 
 smoothed it down, covered the mound with heavy 
 stones, and with a last look at the grave, Zeb was left 
 to his sleep. 
 
 Green grow the grass over you, Zeb. Let the flow 
 ers bloom and fade, let winters come and go, and 
 springs and summers wax and wane. The body will 
 rot, and the elements of which it is composed go back 
 to the earth from which they came. But you were
 
 180 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 something more than nitrogen and oxygen and calcium 
 and phosphorus ; you were kindness and loyalty, faith 
 and courage. You have returned to earth all she ever 
 gave you ; paid the debt to nature, as they say, and 
 have left behind you a legacy to all men not gold, nor 
 lands, nor bonds, nor stock, but that greater treasure, 
 the memory of a true man. Your heirs are all who 
 knew you, many who did not, for who can tell how 
 far-reaching is example of gentle kindliness and manly 
 bearing, the seed of which, planted in one heart, may 
 bear fruit through unborn generations ? 
 
 The type of man which you were will soon pass 
 from us altogether. The history of our great West, 
 such as you have made; and when the last of the 
 pioneers shall have gone, we will be losers. In the 
 heat and the cold, in privation and danger, through 
 thirst and hunger and blood, have men like you won 
 a great empire to civilization. 
 
 Poet and tale-teller have passed you by, and amid 
 the glitter and the tinsel of the world have seen you 
 not. Gold has no sheen nor shimmer but, turn it as 
 you may, every ray of light that strikes it shows it 
 always the same. Over that stone-covered mound in 
 Yellow Pine Basin let one who knew you well, and 
 others like you, stand a moment, and to the virtues of 
 a class whose failings and shortcomings he well knew 
 the why and wherefore of, as like a haze they pass in 
 his mind over the fierce, hot sun of your brave pur 
 pose, of your valor, your determination, your man 
 hood, your loyalty, your faithfulness, pay modest 
 tribute such as grave of Cresar or Napoleon could not 
 call from him. 
 
 One can picture to himself the loneliness of that
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 181 
 
 night after Zeb s burial. Who of us has not felt what 
 he felt, hardly less acutely because friends were near 
 and gave us sympathy as they themselves suffered ? 
 
 "I have been," Bud said to himself, "floating 
 along ; now I have before me a work to do, and he 
 read again Zeb s words. " I will go do it. Zeb has 
 taught me so much, I will do his wishes here. I will 
 go back and face my trouble, and surely I must win. 
 There must be justice that will not allow an innocent 
 man to be thus branded." 
 
 As before his lonely fire he sat that night, came 
 back to him the simple old man and the strange meet 
 ing with one who had been so unobtrusive yet so faith 
 ful a teacher. He could call up a hundred things Zeb 
 had said which, now he knew, were meant to strengthen 
 and to guide him. 
 
 " By the sweat of his brow shall man earn his 
 bread. " Labor has more to its account than the earn 
 ing of bread, and so Bud found. 
 
 A fierce desire for work came over him, and early 
 and late he labored. As spring came on and the snow 
 under the warming sun gave out its water, he, as Zeb 
 had taught him to do, utilized its power and swept 
 through the boxes and the race great masses of gravel, 
 catching gold in abundance, and adding to what had 
 already been secured, sack after sack. At last he 
 found that ahead of him the gravel no longer con 
 tained anything but minute light particles of gold, and 
 going back he sluiced into the boxes the sides of the 
 cut, prospecting it as he went, finding that the rich 
 ground was only a narrow strip through which they 
 had run the cut. 
 
 It was into June, however, before he had exhausted
 
 182 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 all the rich gravel, but when he stopped work, twelve 
 sacks of gold-dust were filled, and another half full, 
 and taking Zeb s estimate as to weight, he thought he 
 had in them about twelve or thirteen hundred ounces. 
 He buried the sacks and concealed the deposit as best 
 he could. 
 
 There were the horses to get up, and going down 
 where they were, he caught them, Bally coming to 
 the salt; and following Zeb s injunctions to the letter, 
 he said, "Bally, Zeb is dead; he is gone." Was it 
 imagination ? He fancied the old horse changed ; he 
 would look at him with eyes following his movements, 
 and allowed him to handle him as he pleased. He was 
 fat, as were the others, but a change had come over 
 him. He followed him like a dog, never kicking nor 
 biting at him. 
 
 In a few days Bud had them all at the cabin, and he 
 saw Bally go to the grave and smell and paw. Like a 
 dog he lay by it all night, feeding near it from time 
 to time. 
 
 The next day Bud placed a rough-hewn timber at 
 the head of the grave, and wrote on one smoothed 
 side, "Zeb, died March, 1882." 
 
 As he wrote "Zeb," he paused a second for the 
 name, but he had never known it. It was a surprise 
 to him he had never thought of another name; it 
 astonished him; but so it was, only "Zeb," nothing 
 more. 
 
 That day he made all ready, and early the next 
 morning he took Zeb s poor belongings with his own. 
 On one horse he placed the gold-dust, packed up, plac 
 ing Zeb s saddle on Bally, and his own on his bay. 
 
 He went up to the grave, and on his knees before
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 183 
 
 it, tears in his eyes, bade a last good-by to the dead, 
 mouldering form beneath the rocks and earth. 
 
 He looked his last on Yellow Pine Basin as one does 
 on some place which he knows has been the theatre 
 where unwonted experiences have acted out their chang 
 ing phases, and back into the great world he started. 
 
 The streams were still high, and his progress was 
 retarded by them, as also by the snow, which, in the 
 higher country he passed over, was still covering the 
 ground. Stanley Basin was a morass, and along the 
 foothills he picked his way. Then came the swollen 
 Salmon, with its strong current to be crossed. 
 
 On the bank he tightened his packs, and though it 
 ran wild and turbulent, he put his horses in to swim it. 
 The main Salmon, which there is wide and shallow 
 at low water, in the early summer is a nasty stream 
 to swim, except where certain stretches, known to the 
 initiated, slow up the speed with which in most places 
 the torrent makes its way. 
 
 Bud knew nothing of the river in its then condition ; 
 he knew it must be crossed, and though he was not 
 one to falter when a thing was to be done, there was 
 that in the swift rush of water that made him, as he 
 stood only knee deep, look anxiously ahead for what 
 seemed the best place of attack. 
 
 Zeb s things, his old gun among them, and a few of 
 his own, were on a strong roan, and the gold with 
 them; other things, his blankets and tools, were on 
 the other two packs. He rode his bay, and old Bally 
 bore only Zeb s empty saddle. 
 
 With some driving and urging all the animals were 
 headed in what seemed the best course to cross. The 
 water, knee deep, was soon belly deep on the horses,
 
 184 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 and then up on their sides, nearly to Bud s knees. 
 Their feet left the bottom and all were swimming, the 
 current getting stronger; soon it became more rapid, 
 and as they neared the middle of the stream it was 
 furious. Bud began to be dizzy and had to shut his 
 eyes. The horses, heads up stream, could hardly 
 breast it and hold their ground, but all fought bravely 
 for the other shore. 
 
 The swirl of a strong eddy caught Bud s horse and 
 turned him around. As he opened his eyes he could 
 see the animals separated, and all in the power of the 
 water that was slowly, in spite of their struggles, car 
 rying them down stream. The little black, as he 
 looked, rolled over and over in the water, and he saw 
 him no more. Just then the water caught his own 
 horse, and as it rolled him over, Bud freed himself, 
 and was buffeting the mad rush, when he saw Bally 
 at his side, and caught his mane, and then the pommel 
 of the saddle. Horse and man struggled for life. 
 Bally, stout swimmer though he was, could hardly 
 hold his own; another stronger current caught them, 
 tearing Bud from his hold. Down stream went man 
 and horse, but some chance guidance of the water 
 threw Bud against a tree top which the floods had 
 carried down and lodged against the bank; he caught 
 a limb, and at last dragged himself out of the water. 
 Below him, when he could look about, he saw the bay 
 had reached the shore, and beside him was the roan, 
 but he could see nothing of the others. 
 
 Bud went down the stream to where the horses 
 were, weak and trembling from the contest with the 
 river and the icy coldness of the water, which be 
 numbed him also.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 185 
 
 He searched along the bank for the others until, in 
 a small bay-like indentation of the shore, in the still 
 water that there, out of the tossing, plunging current, 
 had settled quietly, he saw old Bally. 
 
 In his struggles the saddle had parted from him, and 
 the good old horse lay dead. "Gone to Zeb," Bud 
 said, as he looked on the old companion of his friend. 
 
 He remembered how Bally had saved him in all 
 probability from death. Ever since he had taken him 
 from the winter range he had been a changed horse. 
 All his capricious viciousness had left him, and as if he 
 knew Bud was, in a way, Zeb s representative, he 
 acted in so quiet a manner that Bud was astonished ; 
 and then his coming to him in the water, for it seemed 
 as if there had been purpose in it, together with Zeb s 
 love for him, and that in a way he felt himself the 
 guardian of the old horse, all made him feel very ten 
 der. " You shall not miss a grave," he said; " well 
 have you deserved it." He could find nothing of the 
 black, but the gray he thought he saw as far away as 
 he could see the river, floating in the middle, down the 
 stream, and beyond his reach. 
 
 Going back to where old Bally lay, Bud camped, and 
 started to dig a big hole to serve as a grave for the old 
 horse. That day he could not finish it, but on the 
 next he did, and the other horses dragged Bally into 
 his grave. Bud filled it up and left him. 
 
 A few days travel brought him where he could sell 
 his gold-dust, and from it Bud obtained $22,758.33. 
 He packed the fe\v articles that Zeb had, and that had 
 been saved from the waters, and directing the package 
 to James Peasley, Poseytown, Indiana, put it in the 
 express office. He purchased from Wells, Fargo a
 
 186 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 draft on New York, to his own order, for $11,379.17, 
 sold his horses, and gathered together for a journey to 
 New York his own things, articles that would in after 
 times have to him interest and value, and with them 
 Zeb s gun carefully boxed, taking at the same time 
 drafts on New York for his own share of the gold- 
 dust less what money he needed for his journey. 
 
 He wrote a long letter to James Peasley, telling him 
 of Zeb s death, and enclosing the draft and Zeb s let 
 ter, mailed it, and that night the East-bound train 
 bore away Zeb s partner.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IT was a hot summer day in a little Indiana village, 
 without a breath of cooling air to neutralize the fervid 
 rays of the scorching sun ; the hour of noon had come ; 
 the steam whistle of the corn-sheller at one end of the 
 town it had been named " Poseytown " sounded in 
 blacksmith and carpenter shop, and in village store, 
 and in such other shops and business places as there 
 were, as well as in the modest, white-painted dwelling- 
 houses, the dinner hour. 
 
 The little hum of life that from shops and corn- 
 sheller had buzzed, sank away, and the steps of men 
 as they went to the midday meal, and the creaking of 
 a gate, or the sharp snap of one as it closed after the 
 incomer, only varied the monotonous droning of bee 
 and grasshopper, as with their tiny voices they em 
 phasized the sleepiness of the sultry July noonday. 
 
 Inside many village homes the meal was on the 
 table; the female community, warm from their culin 
 ary labors with meat and vegetables over hot cooking- 
 stoves, were calling lingering man and boy together, 
 to take their seats before the homely fare. 
 
 A little belated came limping down the main street 
 the village justice of the peace, his big cane striking 
 the unpaved sidewalk with unusual hurry, and ringing 
 on the dry planks that here and there some house 
 holder had placed before his home an elderly man,
 
 188 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 precise in his old-fashioned dress, with his blue swal 
 low-tail coat, and its bright brass buttons flat and 
 polished, covering a thin, angular frame ; his nankeen 
 trousers, starched to stiffness, concealing some imper 
 fection in his legs, which his lame, halting gait indi 
 cated. 
 
 The big, black soft felt hat shaded with its wide 
 brim a face clean shaven, that bore in its every line 
 that consciousness of importance and authority, that 
 half-official, half-fatherly interest and concern for 
 everything and everybody which comes from a law- 
 established power over the ill-doers of the commu 
 nity, and a more or less intimate knowledge of the 
 business, financial standing, and secrets of almost 
 every one. Such smattering of the laws of the State 
 he had as, added to native good sense, made him a 
 worthy incumbent of his office, in which, with strict 
 justice and impartiality, he weighed the evidence and 
 gave his judgments. An honesty and good nature 
 that was as methodical and precise in its expression as 
 the man himself, and a clear-headedness and shrewd 
 ness that all knew and respected, made him in a way 
 father-confessor to the village and the country around, 
 and friend and counsellor to the neighborhood. 
 
 Long holding of his office, for he had been justice 
 for a quarter of a century, had made him somewhat 
 arbitrary and opinionated; power and station have 
 that influence. If you can fine your neighbor two 
 dollars for allowing his pigs to run in the street, and 
 he himself, should he on some occasion of hilarity over 
 step the bounds of strict decorum, and on his home 
 ward way, with lusty song and loud-mouthed shouting, 
 disturb the slumbers of the people, five dollars for
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 189 
 
 such unseemly conduct, it does lift you above others; 
 it is human nature; you can t help it; you feel the 
 sense of power you have, and, feeling it, you show it. 
 
 But there are powers behind thrones, and such a 
 power was behind Judge Peasley, and like a culprit 
 going into his own court, he entered the gate and 
 hobbled up the gravel walk to his door. 
 
 " What ails you, Jim Peasley? Corn fritters for 
 dinner, and they all burnt to a crisp with your coming 
 so late. You ll drive me to my grave with your ag 
 gravating ways. It s a wonder I m alive to-day. 
 Where have you been ? What have you been doing 
 that you didn t know twas dinner time? I wouldn t 
 speak, but here it is, day after day. You ve no con 
 sideration for me, and I slaving for you." 
 
 The Judge might have said that his being late was 
 a most unusual event; but, wise from experience, he 
 refrained from speech. 
 
 " There you are, standing like a fool. Can t you 
 speak, I say ? What have you been doing ? But it s 
 no use to ask you anything ; some men tell their wives 
 something, but you never do." 
 
 " Why, mother, I was reading some letters, and I 
 got to thinking how something had best be done. 
 I didn t know it was so late. I m sorry, I am." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you re sorry; but that s all the good it 
 is. What are you palavering about ? Why don t you 
 sit down and eat ? You d drive a woman to the asy 
 lum, and there I ll go, Peasley; little you d care either, 
 and me that s worked for you twenty year." 
 
 " Now, don t, mother, don t. Why don t you get 
 that colored girl to help you? " 
 
 " Yes," sniffed Mrs. Peasley, " that s just like you,
 
 190 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 wanting me to have more work and more worry. It s 
 enough, goodness knows, to have you to worry me, 
 without having an idle, chattering girl around to 
 smash the dishes. I manage this house, and I ll thank 
 you to let me alone." 
 
 The Judge ate in silence, as Mrs. Peasley did not 
 do, for she was full of real and imaginary troubles, 
 and when there were no real ones at hand, her imagi 
 nation conjured up all possible ills that might come to 
 her. 
 
 Born and bred in New England, as a school-teacher 
 she had drifted into Indiana, and when somewhat 
 mature, with the schoolmistress habit well fastened 
 upon her, the Judge had wooed and won. 
 
 A natural tendency to scan the horizon for any speck 
 of cloud, and an ability to create from it a tempest as 
 soon as her eye fell on it ; a thinly disguised contempt 
 for the ideas and opinions of every one but herself, and 
 a never-failing command of language, which she could 
 use with most unpleasant effect, made the rough shell 
 which concealed much kindness of heart and good 
 sense. To her failings the Judge, if not blind, had 
 thought it better to be deaf ; her virtues he saw most 
 clearly, and respecting her insight into human nature, 
 a quality that he had found her to possess in an emi 
 nent degree, often took her advice in matters outside of 
 ordinary affairs. 
 
 " I had two letters this morning, mother," he said, 
 " and I don t know how to do what I must do, or how 
 to do it in the most considerate way, I mean. I had 
 an old friend, we were boys together. He left here 
 and went to California thirty years ago or more. To 
 day I have heard of his death, and I have a letter he
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 191 
 
 wrote me before he died, too. I liked him as a boy, 
 and his course has been such that I have for him great 
 respect ; yes, I think I never respected a man more. 
 You never knew him, for he left here before you came 
 to Poseytown. His people, so far as I know, are all 
 dead, but he has those here who were his care, though 
 they never knew it; and how I m to tell it all to the 
 woman, I don t know, mother. It s such a sad story, 
 and it will come on her so unexpectedly; she s forgot 
 ten the man, I dare say." 
 
 "Why, father," as she called the Judge when in 
 her better moods, " the woman, you say? Tell me 
 all about it." 
 
 " There s such a lot of money comes with it all, that 
 I m to give her, and I m not to tell who the woman 
 is. I don t know as I ought to tell as much as I m 
 going to. 
 
 " Suppose, mother, that before you met me some 
 man should have loved you, and you had told him to 
 go his way, and I had been a worthless drunken, shift 
 less man, and this man who had loved you had gone, 
 and when he heard that your life was what such a man 
 would make it, and you and your children were in 
 need, should have gotten a friend to lie for him, and 
 tell you that some old debt owed to your father was 
 to be paid you, and this man should year after year 
 send his friend money as he could, and have that 
 money paid on this lying debt, paid to you, and for 
 nearly sixteen years that money had kept the breath 
 of life in you and your children money that came 
 from the hardest toil and through terrible dangers and 
 privations and in all this time he had never spoken 
 to you, written to you, seen you, and dying had sent
 
 192 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 you a big lot of money. How would you have this 
 told you?" 
 
 " Don t tell me anymore, father, don t. Go to this 
 woman and tell her just what you have told me, just 
 as you have spoken it, and tell her that this dead 
 man s secret what a man he was! is now only hers 
 and yours, and that no man or woman knows of it 
 say that, father, that no woman knows of it but you 
 two, or ever will. 
 
 "I m glad you told me of this, father. It is good 
 to know such men have lived, but I would not hear 
 more. It would be sacrilege. What a man he was ! 
 
 Then tears came to her, and she fell a-crying. 
 
 "Yes," said the Judge, with a husky voice, "he 
 was a man." 
 
 In every community, no matter how small, there 
 seems always to be some good-for-nothing man, whose 
 weakness works injury only to himself and those who, 
 unfortunately, are dependent on him, while the con 
 tempt he is looked upon by all is in a measure neutral 
 ized by a certain good humor and consideration for 
 everybody outside of his own family circle. When 
 young he was a general favorite, hail-fellow well met, 
 too weak to have either enemies or strong friends; 
 with few opinions of his own, readily falling into the 
 general sentiment of those about him, he acquired the 
 negative liking of all. No gathering of young folks 
 Avas complete without him, and he was held up by 
 fathers and mothers as a model to other boys whose 
 activity of mind and positive natures made them com 
 bative of the ideas of their elders and less submissive 
 than was he. 
 
 Such a young man had been Ellery Simmons, a son
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 193 
 
 of well-to-do people, whose idol he was. Nature had 
 endowed him with good looks and a pleasing address, 
 which, added to prospects most promising and a seem 
 ing absence of vices, made Poseytown a unit in senti 
 ment when he married Jane Richards, a village belle. 
 
 Life seemed to open to these young people a future 
 of comfort, success, and happiness. Jane was a girl 
 everybody liked ; she was bright and good and pretty, 
 and Poseytown settled down to the feeling that the 
 match was a most appropriate one. 
 
 It was hardly a year before Jane found her husband 
 was a drunkard. He wasted the patrimony left by 
 his parents, who died a few months before the wed 
 ding. In wild speculation and riotous living his little 
 fortune went. Poor girl, she did all she could to re 
 strain him. He would promise amendment, only, per 
 haps, within the same hour to yield to a weakness that 
 seemed to drag him down in spite of himself. A child 
 had come to them, and neither mother nor child could 
 change the downward course the poor weak fool had 
 started on. 
 
 She saw him day after day sinking deeper and deeper 
 into that slough out of which the strong man may 
 struggle, but the weak one never. Her pride and her 
 love made her keep such secret counsel with herself as 
 to-day keeps many a fair, sweet young wife in village, 
 town, and city. But there came a time when she felt 
 the need of some help, some advice, to stem the cur 
 rent which she saw was wafting them all to poverty 
 and want. The child she had, and another one soon 
 to come, demanded of her that she do something, try 
 something what, she did not know ; how, she did not 
 know. 
 
 13
 
 194 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 In the first year of her married life her mother died, 
 and with her went the small annuity which, in the 
 simple life they led, had been ample for the modest 
 needs of mother and daughter ; died thanking Provi 
 dence for the assured comfort and well-being of her 
 girl, that she felt had been guaranteed by the marriage. 
 Jane s father had died years before, and she had but a 
 hazy remembrance of him. 
 
 To whom should she so naturally turn in her troubles 
 for fatherly advice as to Judge Peasley, her mother s 
 old friend ? And so one day she went, and into his 
 kind heart poured the woes and fears of her life. 
 With ready sympathy the Judge tried by friendly 
 admonition to stop young Simmons, but with no good 
 result; he promised everything, only to promise again 
 and fall. At last want came on Jane, and, taking up 
 her burden, she fought for her home and her children 
 the same old fight that, since there were men and 
 women, the weaker sex have waged when self-respect 
 and little ones were to be maintained by their own 
 exertions, hampered by some clog of husband and 
 father. 
 
 The Judge, writing to an old friend about this time, 
 mentioned as a matter of news this sad condition of 
 one they both knew, and spoke of it all most feelingly. 
 He had, as his circumstances allowed, and in ways 
 Jane s pride could make no objection to, put in tan 
 gible form his sympathy ; his wife, with the good sense 
 and consideration she had, directing the channels of 
 such helpful aid. Many an unnecessary article of 
 needlework had she gotten Jane to make, and paid 
 for it the money they had to give. 
 
 Some weeks after, the Judge received a letter, and
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 195 
 
 back to his office after his dinner he limped for this 
 letter. 
 
 A methodical man he was, and in his old iron safe 
 he had a bundle of letters which he took out, looking 
 at the bottom one and some others; and then going 
 back to the first one he read as follows: 
 
 " PRESCOT, ARIZONY, May 3, 1868. 
 "DEER JIM: 
 
 " I put in this letter 230 dollars. Wells, Fargo has 
 offices everywhere; they l pay ye the cash, no feer on 
 em, ther all rite. Jim, ye can help me, and ye must 
 do it. Ye mind when I was in Injianny after the war; 
 ye mind I was there a long time, and Avhy did ye think 
 I was so long ? I ll tell ye, Jim. 
 
 " Ye know how all the folks was glad to see me, and 
 Miss Richards was that kind to let me bord in her 
 house. Jane was the puttest woman I ever see, and tho 
 I was so much older, somehow a seeing of her every day 
 I fell in love Avith her ; yes, Jim, I did ; she was so good 
 and kind to me I was Fool enuf to think she d care for 
 me. What a dang fool I was! Well, I hung round 
 for months, and she was so kind and hearty and pies- 
 sent that I got the big head, and one night I ask her 
 to be my wife. She didn t know, how could she, that 
 I was so gone a-lovin of her, and she laffed at me, and 
 said it couldn t be; I was too old for her. Ther never 
 was nothing hit me like that. I see what a cussed 
 fool I was. Jest then somebody come in, and I walked 
 out, I wanted air so bad. As I come down the step 
 ther was a-layin on it a blue ribbin Jane had worn in 
 her hair. I put it in my pocket and I ve got it yet. 
 
 " I left kind o sudden, ye will remember, Jim, and 
 that s why. 
 
 "I never loved no woman but her; I never will; 
 but, Jim, I do.
 
 196 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 " "Twon t make no diference, and she s forgot me 
 by this, and ye won t tell nothing. When I heered 
 she was married and all so well with her, I was glad, 
 tho it cut me, Jim, I won t deny that cut me. My 
 heart is worryed over her, and 2 little ones, too. 
 John Richards was a man nobody didn t know nothing 
 bout much, and course he died, so she didn t know 
 much bout him, and Miss Richards she s dead. Now, 
 I want ye to lie for me, Jim ; yes, Jim, I want ye to 
 lie to Jane, and tell her that some man owed her 
 father, and had wrote to you that he s going to pay 
 his debt soon as he can; that he can t pay much at a 
 time, but he ll keep a-chippin in on it, and that on no 
 count he wants it nowen who he is, as he oughter 
 paid it before, and it s on his conscience like. Tell 
 enny yarn ye like, that if so be ye think ye have a 
 better lie than I give ye. 
 
 " Them 230 dollars ye give her right away, and I ll 
 wressle up more pretty soon. I m a goin to Mexico, 
 and I ll raise something soon as I can, and send ye. 
 If I m kinder slow sometimes luck goes agin a man a 
 while, ye know, Jim, and then it goes with him don t 
 ye let ner want, and I ll make it up to ye, Jim, sure s 
 I live, Jim. 
 
 " I ll send ye more soon as I can. Don t make no 
 talk bout that lie; its all rite. Ye don t know but 
 twas so. I mite have owed old man Richards. I 
 say I did; that s enuf for ye. 
 
 " Ye do this, Jim, andye ll do more forme nor enny 
 man can. 
 
 " Hopein as yer all well, no more from yer friend, 
 
 "ZEB BEAN." 
 
 Fifteen years before, and with some qualms of con 
 science, for he was a plain, truthful man, the Judge 
 had gone to Jane, and told her of this windfall from 
 her dead father s debtor. Of course she wondered at
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 197 
 
 it, and speculated much as to how great was this debt, 
 and how certain might be its repayment, for it meant 
 everything to her. The Judge told her that he had a 
 pretty good idea it was a large debt, and ho felt quite 
 sure that unless the debtor should die he would con 
 tinue his payments, and that was all he could or 
 would say. 
 
 As time went by, and year after year enough came 
 from the unknown debtor to keep her in comfort, she 
 grew less anxious about it, and came more and more 
 to depend on these moneys. Every six months or so 
 the Judge would get a remittance, sometimes from 
 Mexico, sometimes from Montana, and sometimes it 
 would be so delayed that he would advance such 
 amounts as were needed to keep Jane, he^ children, 
 and worthless husband, and then would come money 
 to repay him, and more. Once Zeb had sent him 
 three thousand dollars. The Judge had put it on 
 bond and mortgage for her where it would pay seven 
 per cent. 
 
 With such love as she could give, Jane held to her 
 husband, whose gentleness of temper made his failings 
 less hard to bear than they otherwise would have been. 
 She nursed him when sick, and she cared for him when, 
 well. lie was never violent or abusive, but always a 
 drag and a mortification to her, and grew gradually 
 into that listless, indolent, lounging creature, the vil 
 lage loafer. She had tried to awaken in him pride, 
 ambition, energy, but there was no germ to call into 
 life; she had toiled and prayed for and with him, but 
 loafer and lounger was he by nature, his only vice or 
 passion a craving for liquor, and his only thought 
 how by hook or crook he might obtain it. He had, it
 
 198 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 was true, an affection for his family, if one might dig 
 nify the feeling by calling it affection, but, as time 
 went on, it had gotten to be an effect of a kind of 
 natural good feeling and habit, rather than a living, 
 actuating thing. He simply lived along, as does some 
 worthless cur who has fallen into a home where all 
 that is expected of him is to be of a decent temper, 
 and, like one, he moved about in his aimless round of 
 lounging, careless indolence. 
 
 What bitter trial and pain had come to wife and 
 mother she kept to herself, and in the judicious care 
 and education of her three children she took such 
 pleasure as her life could give her. The respect of all 
 she had, for every community recognizes the worth 
 of the woman who leads such a life, and in it bears 
 herself with womanly fortitude and courage. The 
 repayment of the old debt, made as it was, had enabled 
 Jane to bring up her children well, fitting them to 
 enter life with some provision of education and rear 
 ing that might give them a vantage in life s struggle 
 and make them independent when the remittances 
 should stop; she had laid by a little from these 
 moneys, and owned her small house, and with her three 
 thousand dollars at interest she felt herself in such 
 modest circumstances as made her somewhat easy.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 FOB years, and at intervals of a few months time, 
 Judge Peasley had come and taken Jane s receipt for 
 the sums of money sent to her. He was a month or 
 two late, and she had mildly wondered at it. But 
 now he was coming in the gate, and she went to open 
 the door for him, ushering him into the neat little 
 parlor, dark as a cell after the outer sunshine, until 
 the blinds were opened. 
 
 "Jane," said the Judge, "I ve come to tell you 
 something, and when you hear it I want you to put 
 yourself in my place. I think I did right, but it don t 
 seem so quite, and I ve never felt just easy about it 
 for the part in it I ve had. 
 
 " It s a strange story, Jane, but it s all brought and 
 brings good to you. I have some letters I m going to 
 read to you, and they will tell this story. 
 
 " A good many years ago I had this letter sent to 
 me, Jane; and because the writer was an old friend, 
 and because it seemed the only way to do what he 
 wished and I wished, I have acted a lie for over 
 fifteen years. You see it was written in 68 yes, 
 May 3d, 68. I ll read it, for the writing s poor, and 
 I know it; " and taking out his spectacles and wiping 
 them with his red bandanna, taking a longer time 
 than was necessary in doing it, as if he was loath to 
 open the matter, he at last adjusted them as Jane 
 Simmons said:
 
 200 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 11 It must be about that old debt, Judge." 
 " Yes, Jane," he said, " it is about that old debt." 
 Slowly and carefully he read the letter from Zeb, and 
 when he finished it and laid it on the table, Jane s face 
 was white. As he read, it had all come back to her 
 Zeb s evident admiration; his awkward attentions; 
 his speaking to her one evening and asking her to be 
 his wife; her hasty, contemptuous refusal of him; 
 she had regretted speaking so brusquely to him, and 
 for a year or two it lay on her conscience, but she had 
 forgotten him, had not thought of him for years. 
 She saw it all, the love that thought not of itself, 
 whose tender, far-away arms had reached out and 
 shielded her and hers all those long years, and her 
 tears came thick and fast. 
 
 Before she could speak, the Judge said, " Jane, I 
 would not have read you this, but Zeb Bean is dead. 
 He died in Idaho, and his last thought was of you. 
 
 " Oh, Judge, Judge! " she cried, "how could you 
 do this, to make me all this time believe it was my 
 father s money, my money, that came to me? Not 
 but I am grateful to this man whom I treated so heart 
 lessly; not that it isn t something a woman feels to 
 have such devotion shown her, so kind, so persistent, 
 so steadfast. Not that I don t see what a man he 
 was, and from my heart I thank him and respect him ; 
 but I could never have taken it. I could never have 
 taken the money." 
 
 " No, Jane, you wouldn t take it. Zeb knew that, 
 and I knew it; but it was best you should. Let me 
 talk to you, Jane, as I would to my child, my own 
 child. You know, and I know, it was a matter of 
 remark here in Poseytown that you in a way encour-
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 201 
 
 aged poor Zeb; that you led him on in the thought 
 less way pretty girls, as you were then, you know, do. 
 With most men it don t matter much, but Zeb was a 
 man that was truth itself. He believed your little 
 heartless, thoughtless, innocent lies, and he grew to 
 think you might love him, and like a man he asked 
 you to marry him. You laughed at him, and like a 
 man he went away. Your folly and your cruel laugh 
 and words did not change him; such a man does not 
 change. You were in his heart, and in all the wild 
 hard life he led he kept you there. You were his 
 thought; he worked for you, went through such peril 
 and privation as no one knows for you. Yes, Jane, 
 you and your children, that you might live and be 
 comfortable. Save you and me, no man, no woman, 
 knows this story, and you only know it now. 
 
 Do you tell me, Jane, that you would be so cruel 
 as to regret that, though you did not know it, the 
 thought that he was caring for you was his comfort ? 
 You are not that heartless. 
 
 " Oh, Judge, don t talk so to me! " and her face 
 grew hard and stern. " You know, Judge, my life. 
 God forgive me if I contrast this man and that. I am 
 humiliated. It has all come on me so suddenly. I 
 have been living all this time on the bounty of this 
 man, and shame comes over me that it is so. But 
 that I don t see what a noble heart this man had, that 
 I don t appreciate what he has done, and wish to do 
 what he would have for you say he s dead, Judge 
 you must not believe. I, and for the children he has 
 been father to when they had none, bless his mem 
 ory. Do you know, Judge, how a woman must feel 
 to have had such a lifetime of silent love thrown
 
 202 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 around her ? What a man he must have been ! And 
 you say he is dead, Judge." 
 
 " Yes, Jane, he is dead. Let me read this letter 
 next, before I come to the one telling how he died. 
 This, Jane, is written from Yellow Pine Basin, Idaho, 
 and there is no date on it ; the other letter will tell 
 under what circumstances it was written." 
 
 " DEEK JIM: 
 
 "I m here with my pardner, a young man than 
 whom there ain t no better. 
 
 " We ve struck diggins that s like to be dang good. 
 I m a most sixty, tho I don t in no wise feel like I 
 warnt as good as new; but I ve been a- thinking that 
 things is likely to come to enny man, and I ve had 
 Bud here, my pardner, promise if ennything chances 
 to me, he ll send this yer letter and the money that 
 comes from my half or the claim to ye. He ll do it. 
 I ll bet my life on him. He s squar, and the likliest 
 man I ever see, cept Yank. 
 
 " Ye know what to do with the money if it amounts 
 to ennything, as I think it will. Do ye take out enuf 
 to pay off that morgige ye have on yer farm ye bought 
 of old man James. It s only the right thing, for all 
 ye ve done and the good friend ye ve been to me, Jim. 
 
 " The rest of it, do ye take and put somewhere to 
 hire where twill be safe for her. If I live, I m going 
 East next summer, and I ll see ye somewhere and fix 
 it with ye. I won t see her, a course, but if enny 
 thing chances to me ye l git the money, and when ye ve 
 taken out what I say, ye fix it all right for her. I d 
 kinder like her to know I had loved her and thought 
 on her so long, but mebbe twouldn t be well. Tell 
 her or not, when I m dead; twon t matter one way 
 or t other. 
 
 " O God, I hope twill be considerabel dust we ll 
 git. I d die easy if I knew she was fixed.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 203 
 
 " She s been on my mind all the time, Jim. I ve 
 had dang poor luck, and hain t did by her what I 
 wanted, but mebbe I ve helped long. 
 
 " Ye ve been good friend to me, Jim, and ye ll do 
 this case I die, which I don t in no way look for, only 
 ther s a chance, ye know, and it s better have things 
 settled. 
 
 "I m peart and comfortable, taking real comfort 
 with my pardner Bud. I m well, as I hopes all is in 
 Injianny. 
 
 The sobbing of the woman and his own thoughts 
 made the Judge s eyes dim, as he reverently folded up 
 the letter and laid it with the others. 
 
 "This letter came," he said, "enclosed in one I 
 received from Frank Buddington," as he turned the 
 page to make sure of the name. " This man was 
 Zeb s partner he speaks of, and it enclosed also a big 
 sum of money for me to give you; " and he read: 
 
 " POCATELLO, IDAHO, June 25, 1883. 
 "JAMES PEASLEY, Esq., 
 
 " Poseytown, Indiana. 
 My dear sir : 
 
 "It is my sad duty to inform you of the death of 
 one greatly endeared to me, and with whom I spent 
 several months in close companionship months that 
 during my life will be marked in my memory as filled 
 with all that the best of companions, the truest of men 
 could do to make them sweet in the remembrance and 
 fruitful in good to me. 
 
 "Intimate as were our relations, I knew him by 
 no other name than Zeb, and can speak of him only as 
 I do. 
 
 " Some time previous to his death he requested me,
 
 204 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 in case of accident to him, to write you and to send 
 you, as I do in this letter, whatever moneys might be 
 nis. 
 
 In compliance with his request I enclose Wells, 
 Fargo s draft on New York, endorsed by me, to you, 
 for 111, 379. 17, such being what was his due. 
 
 " The circumstances of his death are as follows: 
 
 " Late last season Zeb and myself struck in Yellow 
 Pine Basin, which lies on the middle fork of the Sal 
 mon, in the Territory of Idaho (I do not know the 
 county), such indications of gold as induced us to 
 spend the winter there in order to open up for profit 
 able working, should it warrant, the claim which we 
 had located. 
 
 "During the winter we began getting gold from 
 the claim. Early in February Zeb was injured by the 
 caving down of the bank of gravel in which we were 
 working. 
 
 11 He never recovered from the effects of this, hav 
 ing received some internal injury. He gradually grew 
 worse, though his cheerful nature and his desire to 
 make as light of his hurt as possible before me, pre 
 vented my at first realizing how serious was his case. 
 When, however, I did begin to feel his danger, I made 
 iny way to the nearest doctor, who, owing to the diffi 
 culty and, perhaps for him, impossibility of taking so 
 long and exhausting a trip at that season, declined to 
 visit him; and witn such remedies as he gave me, 
 though with them he gave me little hope, I returned 
 and found Zeb dead. 
 
 " I buried him where he had indicated in a letter he 
 had left for me, and, so far as the circumstances and 
 my lonely condition allowed, I decently and sorrow 
 fully laid him to rest, marking his grave. 
 
 " I have also shipped you by express the few per 
 sonal articles he died possessed of. To those who 
 ever knew him and loved him they will be of value. 
 
 "My acquaintance with him was that of a few
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 205 
 
 months only, but in that time he grew into my affec 
 tions, and I mourn him as a son his father. 
 
 " I feel that I have, and shall always keep with me, 
 a memory of a man so true and tender and loyal that 
 all my life it will be to me a lesson, an example. 
 
 " It would be to me a pleasure (if you should think 
 it not incompatible with his wishes, for with me he 
 was very reticent about his life) to have you write me 
 of his history such facts as would tell me more of the 
 man I knew so short a time, but whom I so dearly 
 loved. 
 
 " I omitted saying that, according to his direction, 
 I buried with him a little buckskin sack containing; 
 
 o 
 
 something, doubtless, which he greatly prized. 
 
 " He had in his hand, pressed to his heart, when I 
 found him, a strip of faded blue ribbon, and under 
 the hand and the ribbon a Grand Army badge. What 
 he had pinned on his breast, and what his dead hand 
 held, I did not disturb, and they were buried with 
 him. 
 
 11 1 cannot give the exact date of Zeb s death, as I 
 found him dead on my return. I can say, however, 
 that it was probably about the 5th or 6th of March 
 last. 
 
 No opportunity has before this offered to give 
 you this melancholy news, as the wild and uninhabited 
 country prevented my having any means of communi 
 cating with you, and my promise to Zeb required me 
 to work out what gold there was, on which, and it 
 reaching you safely, his mind was firmly set. 
 
 " He displayed a feverish anxiety on this account, 
 and the disposition you were to make of it seemed 
 something that robbed death of any terrors it might 
 have had for him. 
 
 " I am following out his directions to the letter, and 
 do not doubt but you have such knowledge of Zeb s 
 wishes and such desire to fulfil them as will, accom 
 panied by this note I enclose, which he wrote some
 
 206 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 time before his death and asked me to forward, enable 
 you to do all as he would wish it done. 
 
 Stranger though I am, I wish to join with those 
 friends who may mourn him. He was my friend, and 
 in losing him I feel I have parted with a true man. 
 His memory will be green in my heart always. 
 
 Will you kindly acknowledge the receipt of this 
 letter, its enclosures, and the package sent you by 
 express ? 
 
 My address will be for some time, Metropolitan 
 Hotel, New York City. 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 FRANK BUDDINGTON. 
 
 "He died alone," she said, between her sobs, 
 "alone, and the ribbon, my poor old ribbon, in his 
 hand." 
 
 " Jane," said the Judge, " you know it all now; we 
 will talk of this money and how to invest it later. No 
 one shall ever know of this, but I thought I must tell 
 you." 
 
 "Judge," she said, "I thank you that you did; 
 that woman is glorified to whom comes such a story. 
 Leave me now, Judge; leave me now; we will talk 
 again." 
 
 Putting in her hands the package of letters, only 
 three of which he had read to her, the Judge went 
 slowly out and limped towards home. 
 
 Jane Simmons threw her arms upon the table, and 
 her tears came fast and hot. 
 
 In her life, so meagre in all that means so much to 
 a woman, there had been something, after all, though 
 she did not know it, something of manly devotion, 
 something of love as strong as death, those letters told 
 her.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 207 
 
 At random she drew from the package, tied with its 
 formal red tape, letter after letter, and through her 
 tears read them. This from Montana, and enclosing 
 three hundred dollars, with, " Ye know what this 
 money s for, Jim. I hope she is comfortable and the 
 little ones a-growing fine." This from Mexico, with 
 an apology for sending only sixty-five dollars, and, 
 " Luck s been agin me, Jim, but ye see she don t want, 
 and I ll fix it with ye." This from Colorado, with 
 four hundred and twenty-five dollars, and, " Take out 
 what ye give her, Jim, and give her the rest. Write 
 me a word, can t ye, how she is a-looking and a-f eel- 
 ing, and bout her children, Jim; I hankers to hear." 
 This from Nevada, with its account of a "Wells, 
 Fargo" check enclosed, and, "A manny thanks for 
 what ye told me of her, Jim; ye don t know how it 
 pleases me to here she s so peart." And so, through 
 fifteen years they ran, dirty, some of them, and 
 crumpled, written in language uncouth to her and in 
 scrawling fashion, but all the same in spirit, all con 
 stant in their purpose. As she read them she could 
 see the struggle for her this simple, faithful, loving 
 heart had made. 
 
 Down on her knees she fell, and to One she wor 
 shipped poured out her heart in prayer. She rose and 
 put the letters together, tying them with the tape 
 again, and taking them with her went out of the 
 room, carrying the secret of one man s constancy that 
 would be to her all the rest of her life the most treas 
 ured possession of her heart. 
 
 One by one she read the old letters as she found 
 herself alone to do it. Every one told the singleness 
 of purpose, the absorbing interest in her, the tender,
 
 208 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 faithful love and care for her that through long years 
 had actuated the man. She pictured his life, his lonely 
 death. Constant to the end he was, his heart holding 
 her to the last as did his fingers the old blue ribbon. 
 
 It was a bitter time for Jane, the few days that 
 passed before the Judge called again. Not that she 
 had ever loved this man; that, perhaps, made her 
 reveries more painful; that so true and tender and 
 constant a love should not have come to its reward 
 seemed so sad, so cruel. 
 
 In indignation and soreness of heart, the man she 
 had loved and this one came always before her. The 
 weak, selfish drone, whose only ambition was by 
 deceit, or often by cunning theft of her small moneys, 
 to make himself a beast ; and the strong, manly, ten 
 der, constant one, who all these years had been bread 
 winner for her and hers. 
 
 There was degradation in the thought of the one, 
 but what of the other? Over her came again and 
 again, as she thought of him, that scene of his lonely 
 death in the wild country. Her imagination saw him 
 grasping the ribbon and going out of the unloved life 
 he had lived, as loyal to her as the soldier to his colors, 
 that through storm of battle he carries while life 
 lasts. But after days and nights of self-communion 
 there fell on her something of the spirit of the dead 
 man. "He bore his burden," she thought, "and 
 bore it cheerfully ; so let me bear mine. And the 
 round of her daily duties she moved in, sadder in a 
 way, happier in a way. 
 
 Once more the old Judge hobbled up and into her 
 little home. She was calm now, and the Judge precise, 
 methodical, business-like. " Here is the money," as
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 209 
 
 he took from his pocket a draft, "$11,379.17," he said. 
 " I would advise you, Jane, to put this money out at 
 mortgage. I have found that John Stebbins must 
 have some money ; his big farm is good security for 
 what you have. He has spoken to me, and I have 
 said that I knew where the money is. I have found 
 that he will for $11,375, give you a mortgage at six per 
 cent, and running ten years for $12,000 on his pro 
 perty ; this at six per cent, will give you seven hun 
 dred and twenty dollars a year, and with the interest 
 from the three thousand dollars you have already at 
 mortgage, which is at seven per cent. , and returns two 
 hundred and more dollars a year, will give you an 
 income of nine hundred and thirty dollars a year, 
 which, with your house, Jane, will make you comfort 
 able all your life. Indeed, Jane, I have made out the 
 papers, and John Stebbins will sign them as soon as 
 you consent. I know of no better security you could 
 have." 
 
 But, Judge, out of this money something was to 
 go to you. 
 
 " Yes, Jane. Zeb knew I had given a mortgage on 
 my little farm, but that I paid off years ago, and I 
 have nothing to take from it; and if the mortgage was 
 still unsatisfied I wouldn t take it. There is a pack 
 age sent me by express, also ; only some old things 
 Zeb had about him when he died, and they should go 
 to you. Shall I send it here ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Jane. "Anything that belonged to 
 him should come here. Where else should they 
 go?" 
 
 " Jane," said the Judge, " I will attend to this busi 
 ness, and when that is all done we will speak no more 
 14
 
 210 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 of it. The secret that Zeb so closely kept we will 
 keep now. He would have had it so. 
 " Yes," said Jane, " I think he would." 
 That same day the package came to her. With 
 tender hands she touched the mean things that showed 
 so clearly the rough life Zeb had used them in the 
 patches on the old coat, the soil he delved in for her 
 still here and there upon it; the hunting-knife so 
 sharp and keen; the old Colt s revolver, and its leath 
 ern sheath and cartridge-belt, that told of long and 
 constant use; his pipe, the mouthpiece gone, and the 
 marks on the wooden stem where his teeth had held 
 it; the Testament, and in it, " To my boy Zeb, from 
 his loving mother," and some old letters from Judge 
 Peasley ; one in which he had written Zeb about her 
 and her children, much worn, as if it had been often 
 read. These, and a buckskin sack in which big needles 
 and coarse thread, old buttons, and one silver dollar, 
 one half dollar, with old cartridge-shells and little 
 odds and ends of things, were all. But over them she 
 cried, as in their eloquence they told her more of the 
 details of Zeb s life. 
 
 She packed them all up again, and put them in the 
 drawer where were the articles of dress her mother 
 had last worn and a lock of gray hair from her dead 
 head, the baby curls from her children, their first 
 shoes, and such other precious things as she had. She 
 locked the drawer and put the key in her bosom.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 SOON after reaching New York, Frank received this 
 letter from Judge Peasley : 
 
 "POSEYTOWN, INDIANA, July 21, 1883. 
 " FRANX BUDDINGTON, Esq., 
 
 " Metropolitan Hotel. 
 " My dear sir: 
 
 I acknowledge the receipt of yours of the 25th of 
 the last month, with enclosures as follows: Draft on 
 New York for $11,379.17 to my order; also a letter 
 from my poor old friend Zeb Bean ; also a package by 
 express. 
 
 " The sad news has been softened somewhat by feel 
 ing that one so devoted to him as you evidently were, 
 and so much loved by him as Zeb s letter to me tells 
 me you were, did for him all that could be done. 
 
 " We were boys together, and aside from my liking 
 for the man there were circumstances, for fifteen years 
 only known to me, and now only to one other, which 
 have made me honor the man and revere his memory. 
 
 You will excuse me if I do not say more of what 
 these circumstances were. It is Zeb s secret, and I do 
 not feel justified in telling the story ; suffice it to say 
 that did you know it, you would feel, as I do, that 
 Zeb was a man the like of whom are few, and you 
 would appreciate a character than whom in all my life 
 I have seen none more entitled to every good man s 
 respect. 
 
 " Zeb Bean was born here, his parents coming from
 
 212 YELLOW PINE BASIN 
 
 North Carolina. In 1849 he went to California, and 
 from his leaving here until immediately after the war 
 I did not see him. 
 
 " In 1865 he came back here and remained several 
 months. He had served during the war in an Iowa 
 regiment, I think, and having been several times 
 severely wounded recruited himself here. 
 
 " Since that time I never saw him, but heard from 
 him from time to time. So far as I know, none of 
 his family are living, and of course but few of his old 
 friends. 
 
 I am requested by one who greatly mourns him, 
 and whom heneld very dear, to say to you these words : 
 
 " May God reward you for the tender care you 
 gave to one whom I have so great reason to admire 
 and reverence. Your name I shall always associate 
 with what has been a joy as well as a grief to me. 
 For your devotion to his interests I, who am bene 
 fited, regret that in this poor way only is it possible 
 for me to faintly show a gratitude that I shall feel to 
 my dying day. 
 
 " We will leave this as it is. I feel it would have 
 been Zeb s wish to have it so. 
 
 " Should you ever be able to come to our quiet town, 
 it would give me great pleasure to see you and to 
 express, what I cannot well do by letter, my appre 
 ciation of your courage and devotion and honesty. 
 
 I think we are all better for having known Zeb. 
 May life bring all my old friend would have wished 
 you. 
 
 Your obdt. servant, 
 
 1 l JAMES PEASLEY. 
 
 The clouds melted away and bright sunshine came 
 to Frank. Vigorously and manfully he betook him 
 self to his old occupations, strengthened, I think, by 
 the experiences of his absence.
 
 YELLOW PINE BASIN 213 
 
 With years came to him the good things of life, the 
 woman he loved, success. With loyalty and faithful 
 ness he bears his part as husband, father, citizen. 
 
 I venture to say that in this year of our Lord 1896 
 there is no happier home in all the land than that of 
 Frank Buddington. To his wife and him have come 
 children, a good half dozen of them, bright, manly 
 little fellows, and healthy, laughing girls. His broad 
 shoulders but lightly feel the burden of great cares 
 and responsibilities, and motherhood has only given 
 to his wife increasing comeliness and beauty. 
 
 When the winter nights are long, young Frank says, 
 " Tell us about Yank and Zeb, father, and his younger 
 brother climbs on Frank s knee and all the prattle of 
 the others stops. To the snows of Idaho and the old 
 life there the father goes, and he tells over the story 
 that all know so well, striving, as he tells it, to give 
 some new aspect to the happy and interesting phases 
 of it, and softening those that were hazardous and 
 bitter, and might be harrowing in the recital. His 
 mind goes back to the walk in the snow, to the find 
 ing of Zeb s cold body, to the lonely grave, and the 
 influence on his life that came from all, and he says, as 
 he closes, " Dear old Zeb, he would like to look at us 
 to-night." And the mother says, "I wish he was 
 here." And little Frank looks proudly up over the 
 fireplace, where the old rifle hangs, and asks his father 
 " if he thinks there will ever be another war." 
 
 " I wonder why he kept the blue ribbon," breaks in 
 the mother s namesake. 
 
 " Eddication s good for boys, but the idee of the 
 flag, that s the main p int," says the father. " How
 
 214 YELLOW , PINE BASIN 
 
 true that is! You boys will have, in your time, I 
 fear, to meet such changes as we can now only dimly 
 see the coming shadows of. I hope the love of coun 
 try and your country s flag that old Zeb hoped you 
 would have, will be yours always. You can have no 
 better education, and there are so many religions now 
 adays, that I m not sure but that love of country and 
 devotion to the Stars and Stripes is better than half of 
 them." 
 
 Every year, when the snows have melted and the 
 waters have receded and the grass is green, come from 
 Arizona and Colorado and Montana wandering pros 
 pectors, and they dig and pan and speculate as to 
 where in Yellow Pine Basin is the old run of gold that 
 Zeb and Bud had found, for the story of its getting 
 has been noised about, and grows bigger with distance 
 and with time. Every year they go away disappointed, 
 and a new lot come again the next year, and so it goes, 
 and I suppose will go. But if more gold is there than 
 the stout roan bore through the sweeping current of 
 Salmon River, Yellow Pine Basin holds its secret, holds 
 it fast.
 
 Date Due 
 
 PRINTED IN U.S. 
 
 CAT. NO. 24 161
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000 543 570 6