HIS DIFFIDENCE BRINGS ABOUT AN ACCIDENT.
That was a long day for me. I could not eat the dog-bone which my
Pocahontas handed me, having drawn it from the kettle with her own
sweet fingers. We traveled all day; having lost their stolen horses as
well as their own ponies, the savages had to foot it back to their
tribe. I could see that they got as far away from the railroad and
from traces of white men as possible.
It began to grow dark, and we were still plodding along. I was
foot-sore, discouraged, and woe-begone. All the former trials of my
life, which had seemed at the time so hard to bear, now appeared like
the merest trifles.
Ah, if I were only home again! How gladly would I sit down in
butter-tubs, and spill hot tea into my lap! How joyfully would I walk
up the church aisles, with my ears burning, and sit down on my new
beaver in father's pew of a Sunday. How sweet would be the suppressed
giggle of the saucy girls behind me! How easily, how almost
audaciously, would I ask Miss Miller if I might see her home! What an
active part I would take in debating societies! Vain dream! My
hideous Pocahontas marched stolidly on, dragging me like a frightened
calf, at the rope's end. My throat was dry as ashes. I guess the
redskins suffered for want of water, too. We came to a little brackish
stream after sunset, and here they camped. They had taken from me Miss
Spitfire's revolver, or I should have shot myself.
The squaws made some suppawn in a big kettle, and my squaw brought me
some in a dirty wooden bowl. I was too homesick to eat, and this
troubled her. She tried to coax me, with atrocious grins and nods, to
eat the smoking suppawn. I couldn't, and she looked unhappy.
Then something happened--something hit the bowl and sent the hot mush
flying into my beauty's face, and spattering over me. At the same
instant about twenty Indians were hit, also, and went tumbling over,
with their mouths full of supper. There were yells, and jumps, and a
general row. I jerked away from Pocahontas and ran as fast as my tired
legs would carry me. I went toward the attacking party. It might be of
Indians too, but I didn't care. I was afraid of Pocahontas--more
afraid of her than of any braves in the world. But these invaders
proved to be white men; a large party of miners going toward Pike's
Peak, by wagon instead of by the new railroad.
I threw myself on their protection. They had routed out the savages,
and now took possession of their camping-ground. I passed a peaceful
night; except that my dreams were disturbed by visions of Pocahontas.
In the morning my new friends proposed that I should join their party,
and try my luck in the mining regions; they were positive that each
would find more gold than he knew what to do with.
"Then you can go home and marry some pretty girl, my boy," said one
friendly fellow, slapping me on the shoulder.
"Never," I murmured. "I have no object in life, save one."
"And what is that, my young friend?"
"To go where there never has been nor never will be a woman."
"Good! the mines will be just the place then. None of the fair sex
there, my boy. You can enjoy the privilege of doing up your own linen
to the fullest extent. You won't have anybody to iron your collars
there, you bet."
"Lead on--I follow!" I cried, almost like an actor on the stage.
I felt exhilarated--a wild, joyous sense of freedom. My two recent
narrow escapes added to the pleasure with which I viewed my present
prospects. This was better than sailing for some Juan Fernandez, or
being clerk of the weather on Mount Washington. Ho! for Pike's Peak.
In those high solitudes, while heaping up the yellow gold which should
purchase all the luxuries of life for the woman whom _sometime_ I
should choose, I could, at the same time, be gradually overcoming my
one weakness. When I did see fit to return to my native village, no
man should be so calm, so cool, so self-possessed as John Flutter,
Jr., mine-owner, late of the Rocky Mountains. I felt very bold over
the prospect. I was not a bit bashful just then. I joined the
adventurers, paying them in money for my seat in their wagons, and my
place at their camp-table. In due time we reached the scene of action.
I would not go into any of the canvas villages which had sprung up
like mushrooms. There might be a woman in some one of these places. I
went directly into the hills, where I bought out a sick man's claim,
and went to work. I blistered my white hands, but I didn't mind that
much--there were no blue eyes to notice the disfigurement.
I had been at work six days. I was a good young man, and I would not
dig on Sunday, as some of the fellows did. I sat in the door of my
little hut, and read an old newspaper, and thought of those far-away
days when I used to be afraid of the girls. How glad I felt that I was
outgrowing that folly. A shadow fell across my paper, and I glanced
up. Thunder out of a clear sky could not so have astonished me. There
stood a young lady, smiling at me! None of those rough Western pioneer
girls, either, but a pale, delicate, beautiful young lady, about
eighteen, with cheeks like wild roses, so faintly, softly flushed
with the fatigue of climbing, and great starry hazel eyes, and dressed
in a fashionable traveling suit, made up in the latest style.
"Pardon me, sir, for startling you so," she said, pleasantly. "Can you
give me a drink of water? I have been climbing until I am thirsty.
Papa is not far behind, around the rock there. I out-climbed him, you
see--as I told him I could!" and she laughed like an angel.
Yes! it was splendid to find how I had improved! I jumped to my feet
and made a low bow. I wasn't red in the face--I wasn't confused--I
didn't stammer; I felt as cool as I do this moment, as I answered her
courteously:
"Cer-cer-certainly, madam--miss, I mean--you shall have a spring fresh
from me--a drink, I mean--we've a nice, cold spring in the rocks just
behind the cabin; I'll get you one in a second."
"No such _great_ hurry, sir"--another smile.
I dashed inside and brought a tin cup--my only goblet--hurried to the
spring, and brought her the sparkling draught, saying, as I handed it
to her:
"You must excuse the din tipper, miss."
She took it politely! and began to quaff, but from some reason she
choked and choked, and finally shook so, that she spilled the water
all over the front breadth of her gray-check silk. She was laughing at
my "din tipper," just as if the calmest people did not sometimes get
the first letters of their words mixed up.
While she giggled and pretended to cough the old gentleman came in
sight, puffing and blowing like a porpoise, and looking very warm. He
told me he was "doing the mountains" for his daughter's health, and
that they were going on to California to spend the winter; ending by
stating that he was thirsty too, and so fatigued with his climb that
he would be obliged to me if I would add a stick in his, if I had it.
Now I kept a little whisky for medicine, and I was only too anxious to
oblige the girl's father, so I darted into the cabin again and brought
out one of the two bottles which I owned--two bottles, just alike, one
containing whisky, the other kerosene. In my confusion I--well, I was
very hospitable, and I added as much kerosene as there was water; and
when he had taken three large swallows, he began to spit and splutter;
then to groan; then to double up on the hard rock in awful
convulsions. I smelled the kerosene, and I felt that I had murdered
him. It had come to this at last! My bashfulness was to do worse than
urge me to suicide--it was to be the means of my causing the death of
an estimable old gentleman--her father! She began to cry and wring her
hands. As yet she did not suspect me! She supposed her father had
fallen in a fit of apoplexy.
"If he dies, I will allow her always to think so," I resolved.
My eyes stuck out of my head with terror at what I had done. I was
rooted to the ground. But only for a moment. Remorse, for once, made
me self-possessed. I remembered that I had salt in the cabin. I got
some, mixed it with water, and poured it down his throat. It had the
desired effect, soon relieving him of the poisonous dose he had
swallowed.
"Ah! you have saved my papa's life!" cried the young lady, pressing my
trembling hand.
"Saved it!" growled old Cresus, as he sat up and glared about. "Let
him alone, Imogen! He tried to poison and murder me, so as to rob me
after I was dead, and keep you prisoner, my pet. The scoundrel!"
"It was all a mistake--a wretched mistake!" I murmured.
He wouldn't believe me; but he was too ill to get up, as he wanted. I
tried to make him more comfortable by assisting him to a seat on my
keg of blasting powder.
As he began to revive a little, he drew a cigar from his pocket, and
asked me if I had a match. I had none; but there was a small fire
under my frying-pan, and I brought him a coal on a chip. Miss Imogen,
when she saw the coal on the chip, began to laugh again. That
embarrassed me. My nerves were already unstrung, and my trembling
fingers unfortunately spilled the burning ember just as the old
gentleman was about to stoop over it with his cigar. It fell between
his knees, onto the head of the keg, rolled over, and dropped plumb
through the bung-hole onto the giant-powder inside.
This cured me of my bashfulness for some time, as it was over a week
before I came to my senses.