THE HEATHEN CHINEE.
This third party belonged to that peculiar race immortalized by Bret
Harte. He was a heathen Chinee! His face was smooth and bland, and wore
an expression of childlike innocence which was well calculated to
deceive. Ah Sin possessed the usual craft of his countrymen, and
understood very well how to advance his worldly fortunes. He belonged to
the advance guard of immigrants from the Central Flowery Kingdom, and
with a companion, Ah Jim, was engaged in mining in the immediate
neighborhood. His gains had not been great thus far, but then his
expenses had amounted to little or nothing. He and his friend had
brought two bags of rice from San Francisco, and they were well
satisfied with this solitary article of diet.
Ah Sin, from a distance, had seen John Miles encamp for the night, and,
impelled by curiosity or a more questionable motive, had approached to
take a view of the stranger. Before reaching him he caught sight of Bill
Crane, and his almond eyes straightway watched the movements of that
gentleman, while he himself kept sufficiently in the background to
escape observation.
When he saw Crane stealthily remove the bag from under the sleeper's
head, he became very much interested, and a bland smile overspread his
face, while his cue vibrated gently with approval.
"'Melican man very smart," he murmured to himself. "He steal his
friend's money while he sleep."
My readers are probably aware that our Mongolian visitors find a
difficulty in pronouncing the letter _r_, and invariably replace it by
_l_.
"Suppose other 'Melican man wake up, he make a low," continued Ah Sin,
softly.
But the other 'Melican man did not wake up, and Bill Crane got away with
his booty, as we already know. Cautiously the Chinaman followed him,
and ascertained where he intended to pass the night. It was at a
moderate distance from the cabin which the two Chinamen had selected for
their mining camp.
Bill Crane jumped from his horse, stretched his limbs, and gaped.
"I'm powerful sleepy," he soliloquized. "I can't go any farther
to-night. I don't like to rest so near Miles, but I can be on the road
before he wakes up. I guess it will be safe enough."
Crane, having made up his mind to rest, rolled himself up in his
blanket, and stretched himself out, first tying his horse to a sapling.
The place was retired, and he felt moderately confident that, even if he
overslept himself, he would not be discovered.
"I'd like to see Miles when he discovers his loss," he said to himself,
smiling at the thought. "He'll be ready to tear his hair, and won't have
the least idea how the gold-dust was spirited away. You excel me in
brute strength, John Miles, but one thing I am pretty sure of, you
haven't got my brains," and he complacently tapped his forehead.
"There must be at least two hundred dollars' worth in that bag," he
reflected. "It isn't a great haul, but it will do. It will last me some
time, and perhaps start me in something in Frisco. Bill Crane, you've
done a good stroke of business to-day. You are entitled to a good
night's rest, and you shall have it."
First, however, he concealed the bag. He did not think it safe to place
it under his head as Miles had done. He scooped a hole in the earth near
by, deposited the bag, replaced the dirt, and spread a few leaves over
the top.
"No one will think of searching there," thought Crane. "Even if Miles
himself surprises me here, he won't suspect anything."
Bill Crane felt that he was unusually sharp and crafty, and felt great
contempt for the stupidity of the man whom he had overreached. The time
was not far off when he had occasion to doubt whether he had not
overrated his own artfulness.
A pair of almond eyes, lighted up with mild wonder, followed closely
all the movements of William Crane. When the bag was concealed, and
Crane lay down to sleep, the Chinaman nodded blandly, and remarked
softly, "All light! Me go find Ah Jim."
Ah Sin had to walk but half a mile to find the partner of his toils. Ah
Sin and Ah Jim, though not related to each other, were as like as two
peas. The same smooth face, the same air of childlike confidence, the
same almond eyes, a pigtail of the same length, a blouse and loose pants
of the same coarse cloth, were characteristic of both.
When the two met, they straightway plunged into a conversation in which
Ah Sin had most to say.
Ah Jim listened attentively, and was evidently well pleased with what
his companion said. I am afraid my young friends are not well up in the
Chinese tongue, and would not understand the conversation, however
faithfully reported. They must infer what it was from what followed.
The two Chinamen bent their steps towards the resting-place of Bill
Crane. Ah Sin carried a bag of about the same size as the one Crane had
stolen, which he carefully filled with sandy earth. With stealthy steps
these two innocent heathen drew near the spot, and looked searchingly at
the recumbent form of the eminent representative of American
civilization.
Ah Sin turned to Ah Jim with a pleased smile.
"All light!" he said. "'Melican man asleep."
A similar smile lighted up the face of Ah Jim. "'Melican man sleep
sound," he said; "no wake up."
Quite unaware of the honor done him by the special Chinese embassy which
had taken this early opportunity to call upon him, Bill Crane slept on.
There was a smile upon his upturned face as if he were dreaming of
something pleasant. He should have been a prey to remorse, if his
conscience had done its duty, but Bill's conscience had grown callous,
and gave him very little trouble. It was only when he was found out that
he became sensible of a kind of mental discomfort which came as near to
remorse as he was capable of feeling.
Reassured by the deep, regular breathing of the sleeper, Ah Sin and his
friend proceeded to their work. The former drew a slender stiletto-like
knife from a fan which protruded above the collar of his blouse, and,
stooping down, began skilfully to remove the dirt which covered the bag
of gold-dust. From time to time he stole a glance at the sleeper to mark
the first indications of returning consciousness. It was well for Crane
that his sleep continued. A Chinaman does not set a high value upon
human life, and the long stiletto would have been plunged into the
'Melican man before he was well aware of what was going on. Bill Crane's
good genius saved him from this sudden exit by continuing the profound
slumber in which he was repairing the ravages of fatigue.
The Chinamen therefore met with no interruption in their work. They drew
out from its place of concealment the buried bag, and emptying the
contents of their own poured into it the combined treasures of Miles and
poor Tom. Then they filled the first bag with the worthless dust which
they had brought with them, and carefully reburied it in the ground.
They did their work so carefully and well that no one was likely to
suspect that the bag had been tampered with.
Having done their work, Ah Sin and his friend smiled upon each other in
bland satisfaction, which was further expressed by a low guttural
chuckle.
"All light," said Ah Sin, with a nod.
"All light," chimed in Ah Jim, nodding in return.
A consciousness of lofty virtue could not have produced a happier
expression upon any face than appeared on the mild countenance of the
Chinamen.
"'Melican man much supplised when he wake up," remarked Ah Jim.
"Chinamen make much money," returned his friend.
The two enterprising visitors returned to their quarters, and concealed
their booty in a safe place. Then they too lay down and slept the sleep
of confiding innocence.
Bret Harte has not told us whether the heathen Chinee has a conscience;
but if he has, neither Ah Sin nor Ah Jim experienced any inconvenience
from its possession. Neither they nor Bill perhaps can fairly be taken
as fair representatives of the different religious systems under which
they were trained. Bill Crane could hardly claim any superiority over
the heathen Chinee in point of honesty.