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[Illustration: SHE STARED BEWILDERED INTO THE SHAGGY FACES AROUND
HER.--PAGE 21.]
A WAIF OF THE MOUNTAINS
BY
EDWARD S. ELLIS
AUTHOR OF "UP THE TAPAJOS," "FROM THE THROTTLE TO THE PRESIDENT'S CHAIR,"
"THE LAND OF WONDERS," ETC.
CHICAGO
GEO. M. HILL CO.
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1900,
BY
THE MERSHON COMPANY
A WAIF OF THE MOUNTAINS
CHAPTER I
AT NEW CONSTANTINOPLE
IT had been snowing hard for twenty-four hours at Dead Man's Gulch.
Beginning with a few feathery particles, they had steadily increased
in number until the biting air was filled with billions of snowflakes,
which whirled and eddied in the gale that howled through the gorges
and canyons of the Sierras. It was still snowing with no sign of
cessation, and the blizzard blanketed the earth to the depth of
several feet, filling up the treacherous hollows, caverns and abysses
and making travel almost impossible for man or animal.
The shanties of the miners in Dead Man's Gulch were just eleven in
number. They were strung along the eastern side of the gorge and at an
altitude of two or three hundred feet from the bed of the pass or
canyon. The site protruded in the form of a table-land, offering a
secure foundation for the structures, which were thus elevated
sufficiently to be beyond reach of the terrific torrents that
sometimes rushed through the ravine during the melting of the snow in
the spring, or after one of those fierce cloud-bursts that give
scarcely a minute's warning of their coming.
The diggings were in the mountain side at varying distances. The
success in mining had been only moderate, although several promising
finds raised hopes. The population numbered precisely thirty men,
representing all quarters of the Union, while five came from Europe.
The majority were shaggy, bronzed adventurers, the variety being
almost as great as the numbers. Some had been clerks, several were
college graduates, a number were the sons of wealthy parents, and one
was a full-fledged parson, while there was a certain percentage who
had left their homes to escape the grip of the offended law.
With that yearning for picturesqueness which is a peculiar trait of
Americans, the miners felt that when their settlement had attained the
dignity of nearly a dozen dwellings, it was entitled to an appropriate
name. The gorge, which seemed to have been gouged out of the solid
mass of boulders and rocks, when the mountains were split apart in the
remote past, was known from the first by the title already given,
which also clung to the diggings themselves.
The single saloon presided over by Max Ortigies, was the Heavenly
Bower,--so _that_ point was settled, but when it came to naming the
settlement itself, the difficulties were so numerous that days and
weeks passed without an agreement being reached. No matter how
striking and expressive the title offered by one man, the majority
promptly protested. It was too sulphurous, or too insipid or it lacked
in that nebulous characteristic which may be defined as true
Americanism. It looked as if the problem would never be solved, when
Landlord Ortigies, taking the bull by the horns, appointed a committee
of three to select a name, the others pledging themselves to accept
whatever the committee submitted.
But the mischief was to pay when on the night of the blizzard the
committee met at the Heavenly Bower to make their report. The chairman
insisted upon "E Pluribus Unum," the second member's favorite was
"Murderer's Holler," while the third would not listen to anything
except "Wolf Eye," and each was immovably set in his convictions.
Budge Isham was not a member of the committee, but he was known as a
college graduate. From his seat on an overturned box at the rear of
the room, where he was smoking a pipe, he asked troublesome questions
and succeeded in arraying the committeemen so fiercely against one
another that each was eager to vote, in the event of failing to carry
his own point, in favor of any name objectionable to the rest.
The chairman as stated favored the patriotic name "E Pluribus Unum,"
and boldly announced the fact.
"It has a lofty sound," blandly remarked Isham; "will the chairman be
good enough to translate it for us? In other words, what does 'E
Pluribus Unum' mean?"
"Why," replied the chairman with scorn in his manner; "everybody
oughter know it means, 'Hurrah for the red, white and blue.'"
"Thank you," returned Isham, puffing at his pipe.
Vose Adams, the second committeeman, felt it his duty to explain his
position.
"The trouble with that outlandish name is in the fust place that it
has three words and consequently it's too much to manage. Whoever
heard of a town with three handles to its name? Then it's foreign.
When I was in college (several disrespectful sniffs which caused the
speaker to stop and glare around in quest of the offenders); I say
when I was in college and studying Greek and Chinese and Russian, I
larned that that name was made up of all three of them languages. I
b'leve in America for the Americans, and if we can't find a name
that's in the American language, why let's wait till we can."
This sentiment was delivered with such dramatic force that several of
the miners nodded their heads in approval. It was an appeal to the
patriotic side of their nature--which was quick to respond.
"Mr. Chairman," said Budge Isham, addressing the landlord, who, by
general consent, was the presiding officer at these disputations, and
who like the others failed to see the quiet amusement the educated man
was extracting, "if it is agreeable to Mr. Adams, to whose eloquent
speech we have listened with much edification, I would like him to
give us his reasons for calling our handsome town 'Murderers'
Hollow.'"
The gentleman appealed to rose to his feet. Turning toward the man who
had called upon him, he gave him a look which ought to have made him
sink to the floor with mortification, preliminary to saying with
polished irony:
"If the gentleman had paid attention as he oughter, he would have
obsarved that I said 'Murderer's Holler,' not 'Murderers' _Hollow_.' I
would advise him not to forget that he ain't the only man in this
place that has received a college eddycation. Now as to the name: it
proclaims our stern virtue and love for law."
The orator paused, but the wondering expression of the bronzed
faces turned toward him showed that he would have to descend to
particulars.
"When violators of the law hear that name, what does it say to them?
It says that if any murderer shows his face in this place, he will
receive such rough handling that he will have to holler 'enough,' and
will be glad to get out--I don't see what there is to laugh at!"
exclaimed Vose angrily, looking threateningly around again with his
fists clenched and his gaze fixed specially upon the grinning Budge
Isham.
"There's some sense in what Vose says, which ain't often the case,"
remarked Ike Hoe, the other member of the committee, "but the trouble
will be that when folks hear of the name, they won't think to give it
the meanin' that he gives it. They'll conclude that this place is the
home of murderers, and, if it keeps on, bime by of hoss thieves. If it
warn't for that danger, I might go in for backing up Vose with his
name, but as it stands it won't do."
The argument of Ike had produced its effect. There was little sympathy
in the first place for the title, and that little was destroyed by the
words of Ike, who proceeded to plead for his own choice.
"Now as to 'Wolf Eye.' In the first place, it is short and easy to
say. There ain't any slur in the name, that might offend a new comer,
who would think the 'Murderer's Holler' contained ungentlemanly
allusions to his past. It is warning, too, that the place has got an
eye on everybody and has teeth as sharp as a wolf. Then there is
poetry in the name. Gentlemen," added Ike in a burst of enthusiasm,
"we oughter go in for poetry. How can any one live in such a glorious
country as this with the towering kenyons around him, with the
mountains thousands of feet deep, with the grand sun kissin' the
western tips in the morning and sinking to rest at night in the
east,--with the snow storms in summer and the blazing heat in
winter--with the glo----"
"Hold on! hold on!" called Budge Isham, rising solemnly to his feet,
with hands uplifted in protest; "if Ike doesn't stop, he'll have us
all standing on our heads. There's a brand of liquor down in
Sacramento called 'Wolf Eye;' I don't make any charges, gentlemen,
against my friend Ike, but you can draw your inferences. Wolf Eye
won't do."
A general laugh greeted this sally, seeing which the indignant Ike
turned the tables upon Budge with an admirable piece of sarcasm.
"Seeing as how all of us together don't know 'nough to git up a name
that will suit, I move that the college eddycated gentleman supplies
the brains and does it himself."
The crushing irony of this remark was spoiled by Budge accepting it in
all seriousness. He bowed his head and gracefully thanked the
satirical Vose.
"I shall be very glad to do so. The committee meant well enough, but
the trouble was that there were too many fools on it----"
At this point Wade Ruggles sprang to his feet, with the fierce
question:
"Does the gentleman refer to _me_?"
His hand was at his hip on the butt of his revolver and matters
looked squally, but the tactful Budge quelled the rising storm with
Chesterfieldian grace. Waving his hand and bowing, he said:
"I did not intend the remotest reference to you."
Vose Adams came up promptly.
"Then it's _me_ and I'm ready to make any man eat his words."
"My good friend is mistaken; nothing could induce me to apply such a
term to him; I hold him in too high esteem."
Since this left Ike Hoe as the only remaining member, he began to show
signs of explosion, perceiving which the incomprehensible Budge
proceeded to mollify him.
"And Ike knows that I would be the last person in the world to slur a
gentleman from whom I as well as the others have received so much
instruction."
Ike was mystified. He looked at the other members of the committee and
then into the faces of the group. He couldn't make it out.
"If it's all the same, Mr. Chairman, since the gentleman has said
there was too many fools on the committee, and has just explained that
he didn't mean any one of us three, I'll be obliged if he'll explain
who in thunder he did mean."
This sounded unanswerable, but the cunning Budge was equal to the
occasion.
"It gives me pleasure to answer the question of the gentleman: my
remark was made in a Pickwickian sense."
He leaned forward with a beaming smile, as if his explanation left
nothing to be added. No one understood to what he referred, but all
were too proud to admit the fact. There was a general nodding of
heads, and Ike, with the manner of a man who magnanimously accepts the
humble apology of him whom he has worsted, leaned back on his stool
and audibly remarked:
"That makes it all right."
Budge Isham resumed his seat, when he was reminded that he was
expected to submit a name for the new settlement.
"I beg pardon," he said, rising again, "it is a fact known to this
highly intelligent assemblage, that every city of prominence in Europe
has from one to forty namesakes in this country. There is one
exception, however; doubtless all know to what city I refer."
In response to his inquiring looks, the group tried to appear as if
the name was familiar to them, but no one spoke.
"It is hardly necessary for me to mention the city, but I may say it
is Constantinople."
A contemptuous sniff greeted this proposal.
"That's the worst yet," said Wade Ruggles, drawing a match along the
thigh of his trousers to relight his pipe, which had gone out during
the excitement; "the man that insults this party with such a
proposition, ought to be run out of the place."
"What's the matter with it?" demanded Budge.
"It's too long in the fust place," commented Ike Hoe; "it bothers a
man to git his mouth around it and it hain't any music, like the other
names such as Starvation Kenyon, Hangman's Noose, Blizzard Gorge and
the rest. I stick to mine as the purtiest of all."
"What's that?"
"'Blazes,' short and sweet and innercent like."
Landlord Ortigies was leaning with both elbows on the bar. The new
name struck him favorably.
"I'm inclined to agree with Budge," he said, "cause there hain't any
other place that's hit onto it. All of them names that you chaps have
tried to spring onto us, have been used in other places, or at least
some part of the names, but, as Budge has observed, no galoot has
scooped 'Constantinople.'"
"'Cause no one ain't fool enough," observed Ike Hoe, who noted the
drift of the sentiment.
"But they'll pounce onto it powerful quick if we don't grab it while
it's passin'; it's a good long name, and what if it does make a chap
sling the muscles of his jaw to warble it? All the better; it'll make
him think well of his town, which I prophesy is going to be the
emporium of the West."
"Let's see," growled Wade Ruggles, "Constantinople is in Ireland isn't
it?"
"Where's your eddycation?" sneered Ike Vose; "it's the oldest town in
Wales."
Landlord Ortigies raised his head and filled the room with his genial
laughter.
"If there was anything I was strong on when I led my class at the
Squankum High School it was astronermy; I was never catched in
locating places."
"If you know so much," remarked Ruggles, "you'll let us know something
'bout that town which I scorn to name."
"I'm allers ready to enlighten ign'rance, though I've never visited
Constantinople, which stands on the top of the Himalaya Mountains, in
the southern part of Iceland."
"That's very good," said Budge Isham, who with his usual tact
maneuvered to keep the ally he had gained, "but the Constantinople I
have in mind is in Turkey, which is such a goodly sized country that
it straddles from Europe to Asia."
"Which the same I suppose means to imply that this ere Constantinople
will do likewise similar."
"No doubt that's what it'll do in time," assented the landlord.
"I beg to offer an amendment to my own motion," continued the oily
Budge; "when the boom strikes this town, as it is bound soon to do,
and it rivals in size the famous city on the other side of the
Atlantic, there should be something to distinguish the two. We have no
wish to rob any other place of the honors it has taken centuries to
gain; so, while we reserve the principal name, I propose that we
distinguish it from the old city by prefixing the word 'New.'"
"You mean that this town shall be 'New Constantinople?'" was the
inquiring remark of the landlord.
"Precisely; and I now make the motion that that be our name."
There were seventeen persons present and it looked as if a decision
was inevitable. The landlord was shrewd. His first act was to invite
all to drink at his expense, after which he made each pledge himself
to abide by the decision, whatever it might be. These preliminaries
being arranged, a show of hands was called for. The vote was eight for
and eight against the new name.
"That's a tie," commented the landlord from behind his immense beard;
"and therefore the question ain't settled."
"It's easy 'nough to settle it," said Ike Hoe.
"How?"
"Take another vote."
"I don't see how that'll do it, onless some one changes his mind; but
again, gentlemen: all who favor the new name, raise their right
hands."
Eight horny palms were elevated in air, while the same number were
displayed in the negative. The landlord looked troubled.
"We must keep it up till some one weakens," observed Wade Ruggles.
The host scanned the earnest faces in front of him.
"Which of you gentlemen will promise to weaken if we keep this thing
up for half the night?"
"I'll stay here a week," was the reply of Vose Adams, while the
general nodding of heads showed that he echoed the sentiments of the
others. The landlord met the crisis with becoming dignity.
"Gentlemen, when I was a member of Congress, all questions that was
tied was settled by the presiding officer casting the deciding vote,
and which as aforesaid we don't lay any claim to being higher than
Congress, I therefore, by virtue of the aforesaid right vested in me,
cast my vote in favor of this city being called New Constantinople,
which the same is on me again; gentlemen, what will you have?"
It was a coup d'etat, the victory being clinched before the opposition
realized it. Ere the company had fairly recovered from their
bewilderment, Budge Isham declared that the victory was really his,
due to the good sense and high toned chivalry of his friends, and he
insisted upon doing the honors. He would accept no denial and the
engaging style in which he acquitted himself of this duty restored
good humor. Thus it was that the little mining town of the Sierras in
the days that are gone received its title.
The Heavenly Bower consisted of two large apartments, both on the
ground floor. The one at the rear was used by Landlord Ortigies for
sleeping, eating and partial storage purposes. When Vose Adams made
his quarterly visits to Sacramento, he was accompanied by two mules.
They were not necessary to take and bring the mail, since the pocket
of Adams' great coat was sufficient for that, but they carried down to
Sacramento several empty casks which came back filled, or rather they
were thus when the return journey was begun, but to the dismay of the
proprietor of the Heavenly Bower, he found that they were barely
two-thirds full, when unloaded at his place. Vose explained that the
leakage was due to the roughness of the trail. Since there seemed no
other way of overcoming this, the landlord sent an extra cask with the
request to Vose that he would confine his leakage to that and Vose
kindly obliged him.
The stuff thus provided for the Heavenly Bower was generally in
concentrated form, thereby permitting a dilution which insured a full
supply for the customers who were afflicted with an eternal thirst.
The bar room was of extensive proportions. Nearly all of one side was
occupied by the bar. Opposite was the huge fireplace, and scattered
around were a number of stools, rickety chairs and strong boxes which
served equally well for seats.
The crackling fire, the genial warmth and good cheer within the room
were the more striking because of their contrast with the howling
storm without. The gale roared around the corners of the rude but
strong structure, rattling against the massive door and the log walls,
spitting vicious gusts down the chimney and flinging great drifts
hither and yon with a fury that threatened to send the building
skurrying through the snowy space.
"It's the worst blizzard we ever had," remarked Wade Ruggles, after
one of these violent outbursts; "God pity any one that's abroad
to-night."
"It reminds me of that zephyr last winter," observed Vose Adams, "when
I was bringing your freight, Max, from Sacramento."
"I remember," nodded the landlord; "you started with two kegs and got
here with about half a one; the leakage was tremenjus on that trip."
"True; the blizzards is always rough on Mountain Dew, and sorter makes
it shrink," replied the unblushing Vose.
"Can't you stop the casks leaking so much," inquired Felix Brush, who
had been a parson in Missouri, and claimed that he had never been
"unfrocked."
The landlord solemnly swayed his head.
"Not as long as Vose has charge of the freight----"
At that instant a dull but resounding thump was heard on the roof
overhead. It shook every log in the structure, checked speech and
caused each man to look wonderingly at his neighbor.
"The mountain has fell on us!" exclaimed Ike Hoe in a husky whisper.
"If it was the mountain," said Budge Isham, slightly raising his
voice, as the courage of the party came back; "none of us would be
able to tell of it."
"Then it's a rock--well, I'm blessed! the thing is moving!"
Something was certainly astir in the mass of snow overhead.
"I guess it's a angel that has lost its way," submitted Hoe.
"More likely it's a grizzly b'ar that's stumbled off the rocks--"
But all these speculations were scattered to the winds by the sound of
a voice muffled and seemingly far away, which came to them through the
storm:
"_Helloa, the house_!"