BEGINNINGS OF GOVERNMENT
Our visit to the town we postponed from day to day because we were
either too busy or too tired. We thought we could about figure out what
that crude sort of village would be like. Then on Saturday evening our
neighbour with the twinkling eye--whom we called McNally, without
conviction, because he told us to--informed us that there would be a
miners' meeting next day, and that we would be expected to attend.
Accordingly we visited the town. The street was full of men idling
slowly to and fro. All the larger structures were wide open, and from
within could be heard the sounds of hurdy-gurdies, loud laughter and
noisy talk. At one end of the street a group was organizing a horse
race; and toward this Don Gaspar took his immediate departure. A smaller
group surrounded two wrestlers. At one side a jumping match was going
on.
Among the usual incongruities we saw some that amused us more than
ordinarily. The Indians, for example, were rather numerous, and
remarkable. One wore as his sole garment an old dress coat: another had
tied a pair of trousers around his waist; a third had piled a half dozen
hats atop, one over the other; and many had on two or more coats. They
were, to a man, well drunken. Their squaws, fat and unattractive,
squatted outside the single store of the place. We saw also a dozen or
so white men dressed very plainly and shabbily, tall, lank, and spindly,
rather weakly in general appearance, their faces sallow, their eyes
rather childish but crafty and treacherous, their hair thin and
straight. The points in common were pointed, nearly brimless hats, like
small extinguishers, and that they were the only men to use suspenders.
They were from Pike County in Missouri; and in our experience with them
we found their appearance a close indication of their character. They
were exceedingly skilful with both axe and rifle, were expert
backwoodsmen, but without physical strength, very childish and ignorant,
vindictive, narrow, and so extremely clannish and tenacious of their own
opinions that they were always an exasperating element to be reckoned
with, in any public matter. We saw also a compact little group of dark
small men, with bright eyes and quick manners. They held close together
and chattered like a lot of magpies. McNally, who had spotted us from
afar, informed us that these were "keskydees," and that they always did
stick close together.
"What are 'keskydees'?" I asked him.
"That's what everybody calls them," said McNally. "I suppose it's
because they always say it, 'Keskydee, keskydee,' like a lot of
chickadees."
"French!" cried Johnny, suddenly enlightened. "_Q'estce qu'il
dit._"
"Yes, that's it," agreed McNally; "keskydee. What does it mean, anyway?"
"What is he saying," translated Johnny.
At this time there were a great many French in California; and for a
number of years I could not quite understand why. Then I learned that
most of them were prize winners in a series of lotteries, called the
Lotteries of the Golden Ingot. The prizes were passages to California,
and the lotteries were very popular. The French, or keskydees, as they
were universally called, always went about in gangs, while the other
nationalities were more inclined to amalgamate with the rest of the
community. We saw, also, several "Dutch Charleys" who had struck it
rich. They were moon-faced, bland, chuckle-headed looking men, generally
with walrus moustaches, squat and heavy, with fatuous, placid smiles. I
suppose they had no real idea of values, but knew only the difference
between having money and not having money. These prosperous individuals
carried two or even more watches at the ends of long home-made chains
constructed of gold nuggets fastened together with lengths of copper
wire. The chains were looped around their necks, about their shoulders
and waists, and hung down in long festoons. We had three apparently, of
these Dutch Charleys, all deadly rivals in magnificence. They paraded
slowly up and down the street, quite satisfied with themselves, and
casting malevolent glances at each other when they passed.
The two gambling places and saloons were hard at it. The low rooms were
full of smoke, and crowded with slowly jostling men. In contrast to the
deadly quiet of such places in San Francisco, these were full of noise
and hubbub. The men moved restlessly, threw down their little bags of
dust impatiently, and accepted victory or defeat with very audible
comments. The gamblers, dressed in black, pale, sat steady-eyed and
silent behind their layouts. I suppose the life must already have
developed, if not a type, at least a uniform mental attitude that showed
itself in outward expression. That was, first of all, an intent, quiet
watchfulness; and, secondly, an iron resolution to meet whatever
offered. The gambler must be prepared instantly to shoot; and at the
same time he must realize fully that shooting is going to get him in
trouble. For the sympathy of a mining camp was generally strongly
against him when it came to a question of this sort. We treated
ourselves to a drink at the bar, and went outside.
Already the drift of miners was toward the end of the street where a
good sized crowd had gathered. We fell in. Under a large oak tree had
been placed a barrel and several boxes from the store, and on these
latter our friend John Semple, the carpenter, was mounting.
"John's the _alcalde_," McNally explained to us. "He's the most
level-headed man in these diggings."
Most of the miners sat down on the ground in front, though some remained
afoot. Semple rapped sharply on the barrel with the muzzle of his
revolver.
"This is a miners' meeting," he stated briefly. "And we have several
things to talk about. Most important thing, 'cordin' to my notion, is
this row about that big nugget. Seems these yere three men, whose names
I disremember, is partners and is panning down there in the lower
diggings, and while one of them is grubbing around with a shovel getting
ready to fill the company pan, he sees this yere nugget in the shovel,
and annexes it. Now he claims it's his nugget, and the rest of 'em claim
it belongs to all of them as partners. How about it?"
Two men sprang to their feet and began to talk.
"You set down!" Semple ordered them. "You ain't got nothing to do with
decidin' this. We'll let you know what to do. If the facts ain't right,
as I stated 'em, say so; but we don't want no theories out of you.
_Set down!_ I say."
They subsided, and a silence fell which no one seemed inclined to break.
"Well," said Semple impatiently, "come on! Speak up! Whar's all this
assorted lot of theories I been hearing in the say-loons ever since that
nugget was turned up?"
A man with the most extraordinarily ragged garments got to his feet and
began to speak in a pleasant and cultivated voice.
"I have no solution to offer this company," said he, "but I am, or was,
a New York lawyer; and if my knowledge of partnerships will help any,
this is the New York law." He sketched briefly the New York rulings on
partnerships, and sat down.
"Much obliged, I'm sure," said Semple cordially. "We're glad to know how
they've figgered it out down thar. Only trouble, as far as I see, is
that they ain't usually findin' many nuggets down that neck of the
woods; so they ain't precisely fitted the case. Anybody know anything
nearer to home?"
"I panned in Shirttail Bar last two months," blurted a hoarse and
embarrassed individual, without rising, "and down thar they had a
reg'lation that airy nugget that weighs over a half ounce that is found
before the dirt is thrown in the cradle belongs to the man that finds
it, and not to the company. Of course this here is a pan, and not a
cradle."
"That's more like business. Anybody know if anywhar they do it the other
way around?"
Apparently nobody did.
"Anybody got any idees as to why we shouldn't follow Shirttail in this
matter? Dog-gone you! _Set down!_ You ain't got nothin' to say
here."
The man appealed to the crowd.
"Ain't I got a right to be heard in my own case?" he demanded.
"This ain't your case," persisted John Semple stoutly; "it's decidin'
what the policy of this camp is goin' to be regardin' nuggets. Your
dog-gone case is mighty unimportant and you're a prejudiced party. And
if you don't set down, I'll come down there and argue with you! If none
of you other fellows has anything to say, we'll vote on it."
We then and there decided, almost unanimously, to follow Shirttail.
"Now," resumed Semple, after this matter had been disposed of, "there's
a bunch of these yere keskydees around throwin' assorted duckfits all
this morning; and as near as I can make out they say somebody's jumped
their claim or their camp, or something. Jim, supposin' you and your tin
star saunter down and eject these jumpers."
A very tall, quiet, slow moving man arose, aimed his tobacco juice at a
small tree, drawled out the words, "All right, Jedge," and departed,
trailed by a half dozen jabbering keskydees, to whom he paid not the
slightest attention.
"Now," said Semple, "we got a couple of Greasers yere caught stealin'.
Buck Barry and Missouri Jones caught them at it, so there ain't much use
hearin' witnesses as to the fact. Question is: what do we want to do
with them?"
"What did they steal?" demanded a voice.
"They just nat'rally didn't steal _nothin'_," said a heavy built,
square-jawed, clean-shaven man whom I guessed to be Buck Barry. "Not
while I was around."
"Yes," persisted the other, "but what was they after."
"Oh, an extry pair of boots, and a shirt, and some tobacco, et cetery,"
replied Buck Barry contemptuously.
"Let's see them," shouted several voices.
After a moment's delay two ragged and furtive Mexicans were dragged
before the assembly. A contemplative silence ensued. Then an elderly man
with a square gray beard spoke up.
"Well," said he deliberately, "airy man so low down and shif'less and
miserable as to go to stealin' boots and shirts and tobacco in this camp
is shore outside my corral. He sure must be a miserable person. Why'n
hell didn't Buck and Missou give him a few lifts with the toes of their
boots, and not come botherin' us with them?"
Both Barry and Jones started to reply, but Semple cut them short.
"They was going to do just that," he announced, "but I persuaded them to
bring this matter up before this meetin' because we got to begin to
take some measures to stop this kind of a nuisance. There's a lot of
undesirables driftin' into this camp lately. You boys all recall how
last fall we kep' our dust under our bunks or most anywhere, and felt
perfectly safe about it; but that ain't now. A man has to carry his dust
right with him. Now, if we can't leave our tents feeling our goods is
safe, what do you expect to do about it? We got to throw the fear of God
into the black hearts of these hounds."
At this juncture Jim, the sheriff, returned and leaned nonchalantly
against a tree, chewing a straw.
Accepting the point of view advanced by the chair, the miners decided
that the two thieves should be whipped and banished from camp. A strong
feeling prevailed that any man who, in this age of plenty, would descend
to petty thieving, was a poor, miserable creature to be pitied. Some
charitably inclined individual actually took up a small collection which
was presented to the thieves after they had received their punishment.
"And now, _vamos_, git!" advised Semple. "And spread the glad
tidings. We'll do the same by any more of you. Well, Jim?" he inquired
of the sheriff.
Jim shifted his straw from the right corner of his mouth to the left.
"That outfit don't eject worth a cuss," said he laconically.
"How many of them is there?" asked Semple.
"Two--and a shotgun," stated Jim.
"I reckon we'll eject them if we say 'eject'!" cried some one
truculently; and several others growled assent.
Jim cast a humorous eye in that direction.
"Oh, I reckon I'm ekal to the job," said he, "and if you say 'eject'
again, why out they go. Only when I looked that outfit over, and saw
they was only two of them and six of these jabbering keskydees, why, I
jest nat'rally wondered whether it was by and according to the peace and
dignity of this camp to mix up in that kind of a muss. I should think
they ought to be capable of doin' their own ejecting."
A discussion arose on this point. The sentiment seemed unanimous that
the Frenchmen ought to have been able to protect themselves, but was
divided on the opinion as to how far the camp was now committed to
action.
"They'll think they've bluffed us out, if we drop her now," argued one
side.
"It ought not to be the policy of this camp to mix up with private
quarrels," argued the other.
John Semple decided the question.
"It looks like we're in the hole," he admitted, "and have got to do
something. Now, I tell you what I'm going to do: I'm going to have Jim
here give these keskydees blank warrants that they can serve themselves,
and to suit themselves."
This ingenious solution was very highly commended.
"Unless somebody else has something to bring up, I guess that's about
all," announced Semple.
"No inquests?" some one asked.
"Nary an inquest. This camp is gettin' healthy. Adjourned!" And the
meeting was brought to a formal conclusion by a tap of the pistol on the
empty barrel.