SANDY'S COURTSHIP.
Swiftly, and very sweetly for Sandy, the days went by in the Forks; down
there deep in the earth, almost in the dark of the under-world, in the
cool of the forest, in the fragrance and spice and sweetness of the fir,
and madrona, and tamarack for ever, dripping with dew, and dropping
their fragrant gums and spices on the carpeted, mossy mountain side,
filling the deep chasm with an odor found nowhere save in the heart of
the Sierras, and Sandy was happy at last.
"You will please come again. You are such good company!" Sandy had come
to think he was one of the best talkers in the world; and thinking so he
was really able to begin to talk. Such is the tact and power, for good
or ill, of woman.
Water will find its level. In this camp, in all new camps, in all new
countries, new enterprises, wars, controversies--no matter what, there
are certain men who come to the surface. These come to the front, and
men stand aside, and they take their place. They stay there, for they
belong there. They may not come immediately; but let any great question
be taken up, let it be one of enough consequence to stir up the waters,
and the waters will find their level.
No man need stilt himself up, or seek applause, or friends in high
places, or loud praise. If he belongs to the front he will get there in
time, and will remain there when he arrives. If he does not, there is
but little need for him to push and bribe and bother at all about it. He
will only stand up in the light long enough to show to the world that
some one has escaped from the woodcut of a comic almanac, or the
Zoological Gardens, and will then sink back, to end his life in
complaining of hard treatment and lack of appreciation.
Let us rather accept the situation, good or bad, play the piece out, and
look to promotion in the next great drama.
Do not despise my spicy little camp in the Sierras. It was a world of
itself. Perhaps it was as large as all Paradise was at the first; and
then it was so new, so fresh, so fragrant, sweet, and primitive.
It was something to be the first man in that camp. Caesar, if they have
written their chronicles true, would have preferred it to the second
place in Rome.
Here only the strong, clear heads towered up. It was not accident that
made Sandy, or the Parson either, a head man in the Forks.
The Forks knew just how sterling, and how solid, and how sincere he was.
No flattery here. There was not a penny to win by it. No applause to
care for here. No public opinion to appease or woo. If a man did not
like the company at the Howling Wilderness he need not put in an
appearance. He could stay at home, lord of his castle, toil three
hundred and sixty-five days in the year, and no man would question him
or doubt his motives.
Nor was it any accident that made Limber Tim the partner of Sandy. These
things have a deeper root than men suppose. Sandy was the strongest man
in the camp, Limber Tim was the weakest. Nothing in nature was more
natural than their present relation.
It is as remarkable as it is true, that wild beasts, even when the
sexes, more decent than men, are divided from each other, mate thus. The
strong bear or the strong buck companions with the weak.
This Sandy never blustered or asserted himself at all. He was born above
most men of his class, and he stood at their head boldly without
knowing it. Had he been born an Indian he would have been a chief, would
have led in battle, and dictated in council, without question or without
opposition from any one. Had he been born in the old time of kings he
would have put out his hand, taken a crown, and worn it as a man wears
the most fitting garment, by instinct.
Sandy was born King of the Forks. He was king already, without knowing
it or caring to rule it.
There are people just like that in the world, you know,--great, silent,
fearless fellows, or at least there are in the Sierra-world, and they
are as good as they are great. They are there, throned there, filling up
more of the world than any ten thousand of those feeble things that God
sent into the world, in mercy to the poor good men who sit all day
silent, and cross-legged, and in nine parts, sewing, on a table.
They will not go higher, they can not go lower. They accept the
authority as if they had inherited through a thousand sires.