SWIFTWATER has often told me that he never could quite understand
why it was that the way to a woman’s heart, even his own
way--Swiftwater’s--was so hard to travel and so devious and tortuous in
its windings and interwindings.
“Why, Mrs. Beebe,” Swiftwater used to say, “I should think a man
could do anything with gold! And for my own part, I used to always
figure that money would buy anything,” said Swiftwater, “even the most
beautiful woman in the world for your wife.”
Swiftwater’s mental processes were simple, as the foregoing will
illustrate. It was hardly to be expected otherwise. Swiftwater
decamped from the drudgery and slavish toil of a kitchen in the little
road-house at Circle City to gain in less than three months more money
than he had ever dreamed it possible for him to have.
Two hundred thousand dollars was the minimum of Swiftwater’s first big
clean-up. If Gussie Lamore had lovers, Swiftwater figured, his money
would win her heart away from all the rest.
All this relates very intimately to the really interesting story of
Swiftwater’s courtship of Gussie Lamore. The girl kept him at arm’s
length, yet if ever Swiftwater became restive Gussie would cleverly
draw the line taut and Swiftwater was at her feet.
“I am tired of this, Gussie,” said Swiftwater one day, and finally the
“Knight of the Golden Omelette,” as he was often termed, was serious
for once in his life.
“I am going back to Eldorado and I’ll bring down here a bunch of gold.
It will weigh as much as you do on the scales, pound for pound. Gussie,
that gold will be yours if you give me your word you will marry me.”
“All right, Bill, we’ll see. Go get your gold and show me that you
really have it.”
Swiftwater was gone from Dawson about two days before he returned to
the dance hall where Gussie was working. This time he kept away from
the bar and merely waited until the morning dawned and the habitues of
the dance hall had disappeared one by one. By that time the word had
been sent out to Seattle of the rich findings of gold on Eldorado, and
the early crop of newcomers was arriving over the ice from Dyea, in the
days before the Skagway trail was known.
Swiftwater, in the early morning, carried to Gussie’s apartments two
tin coffee cans filled with the yellow gold.
“Here’s all you weigh, anyhow,” said Swiftwater. “Now, take this gold
to the Trading Company’s office and bank it. Then I want you to buy a
ticket to San Francisco and I will meet you there this summer and we
will be married.”
Thus ended the curious story of Swiftwater’s wooing of Gussie Lamore.
All the world knows how, when Gussie reached San Francisco, where her
folks lived, she banked Swiftwater’s gold and turned him down cold.
Swiftwater reached the Golden Gate a month after Gussie had arrived at
her home. All his entreaties for her to carry out her bargain came to
nothing.
Bitter as he was towards Gussie, Swiftwater still seemed to love the
girl. His first creed, “I can buy any woman with gold,” seemed to stick
with him.
There was, for one thing, little Grace Lamore. It came to Swiftwater
that he could marry Grace and punish Gussie for her inconstancy.
Now, this may seem to you, my reader, like an ill-founded story. Yet
the truth is, Grace and Swiftwater were married within a month of his
arrival in San Francisco, and the San Francisco papers were filled with
the story of how Swiftwater bought his bride a $15,000 home in Oakland
and furnished it most beautifully with all that money could buy.
Swiftwater and Grace, after a two days’ wedding trip down the San
Joaquin Valley leased the bridal chamber of the Baldwin Hotel, while
their new home in Oakland was being fitted up. Old-time Alaskans
will smile when I recall the impression that Swiftwater made on San
Franciscans.
It was his invariable custom to stand in front of the lobby of the
Baldwin every evening, smoothly shaved, his moustaches nicely brushed
and curled, and wearing his favorite black Prince Albert and silk hat.
Probably few in the throng that came and went through the lobby of
the Baldwin--in those days one of the most popular hostelries in San
Francisco--would have paid any attention to Swiftwater. But Bill knew
a trick or two and his old-time friends have told me that Swiftwater
made it an unfailing custom to tip the bell-boys a dollar each a day to
point to the dapper little man and have them tell both guests of the
Baldwin and strangers:
“There is Swiftwater Bill Gates, the King of the Klondike.”
And Swiftwater would stand every evening, silk hat on his head, spick
and span, and clean, and bow politely to everybody as they came in
through the lobby to the dining hall.
[Illustration: SWIFTWATER GREETS STRANGERS IN THE LOBBY OF THE BALDWIN
HOTEL, WHOM HE HAD NEVER SEEN BEFORE.]
Isn’t it curious, that with all his money, and his confidence in the
purchasing power of gold, Swiftwater’s dream of love with Grace Lamore
should have lasted scarcely more than a short three weeks? It was
not that Swiftwater was parsimonious with is money--the very finest
of silks and satins, millinery, diamonds at Shreve’s, cut glass and
silverware, were Grace’s for the asking. They will tell you in San
Francisco to this day that Swiftwater and his bride worked overtime in
a carriage shopping in the most expensive houses in the city of the
Golden Gate.
Then came the break with Grace. I do not know the cause, but the girl
threw Swiftwater overboard and left the bridal chamber of the Baldwin
to return to her family, even before they had occupied the palatial
home in Oakland.
Swiftwater’s rage knew no bounds. In his heart he cursed the whole
Lamore family and quickly took means to vent his spite.
This is how it came about that scarcely a month after Swiftwater’s
wedding bells had rung, the “Knight of the Golden Omelette” was seen
to enter his Oakland home one evening and emerge therefrom a half hour
later bearing on his back a heavy bundle wrapped in a bed sheet.
[Illustration: SWIFTWATER BILL CARRYING $7,000 WORTH OF WEDDING
PRESENTS FROM HIS BRIDE’S HOME IN OAKLAND.]
The burden was all that Swiftwater’s-strength could manage. Laboriously
he toiled his way to the house of a friend in Oakland and wearily
deposited his bundle on the front porch, where he sat and waited the
coming of his friend.
When Swiftwater was finally admitted to the house, he untied the sheet
and opened up the contents of the pack. There lay glittering on the
floor $7,000 worth of solid silver plate and cut glass.
“That’s what I gave my bride,” he said, “and now she’s quit me and I’m
d----d if she’ll have that.”