CHAPTER XLVII.

ARTHUR.

He had enjoyed himself immensely, from the moment he first caught sight

of grand old Pike's Peak on the distant plains until he entered the city

of the Golden Gate, and, standing on the terrace of the Cliff House,

looked out upon the blue Pacific, with the sea lions disporting on the

rocks below. For he went there first, and then to China-town, and

explored every nook and corner, and opium den in it, and drank tea at

twenty dollars a pound in a high-toned restaurant, and visited the

theatre and the Joss House, and patronized the push-cars, as he called

them, every day, and experienced a wonderful exhilaration of spirits, as

he sat upon the front seat, with the fresh air blowing in his face, and

only the broad, steep street, lined with palaces, before him.

'This is heaven! this clears the cobwebs!' he would say to Charles, who

sat beside him with chattering teeth and his coat-collar pulled high

about his ears, for the winds of San Francisco are cold even in the

summer.

Arthur's first trip was to the Yosemite, taking the Milton route, and

meeting with the adventure he so much desired; for in the early morning,

between Chinese Camp and Priest's, the stage was suddenly stopped by two

masked marauders, one of whom stood at the horses' heads, while the

other confronted the terrified passengers with the blood-curling words:

'Hands up, every soul of you!'

And the hands went up from timid women and strong men, until click-dick

came in rapid succession from the driver's box, where Arthur sat, and

shot after shot followed each other, one bullet grazing the ear of the

highwayman at the horses' head, and another cutting through the slouched

hat of his comrade near the stage.

'Leave, or I'll shoot you dead! I've five more shots in this one, and

two more revolvers in my pockets, and I'm not afraid!' Arthur yelled,

jumping about like a maniac, as for the time being he was, and so

startling the robbers that they fled precipitately, followed for a

little distance by Arthur, who leaped from the stage and started in

pursuit, with a revolver in each hand, and ball after ball flying ahead

of him as he ran.

When at last he came back, the passengers flocked around him, grasping

his hands and blessing him as the preserver of their money, if not of

their lives. After that Arthur was a lion, whom all people in the valley

wished to see and talk with, and with whom the landlord bore as he had

never borne with a guest before, for Arthur found fault with the rooms,

which he likened to bath-tubs, and fault with the smells which came from

the river, and fault with the smoke in the parlour, but made ample

amends by the money he spent so lavishly, the scores of photographs he

bought, and the puffs he wrote for the San Francisco papers, extolling

the valley as the very gate of heaven, and the hotel as second only to

the Palace, and signing himself "Bumble Bees."

He went on every trail, and started for the highest possible peak, and

when he stood on the top of old Capitan and looked down upon the world

below, he capered and shouted like a madman, singing at the top of his

voice, "Mine eye have seen the coming of the glory of the Lord, glory,

glory, hallelujah!" until the rocky gorges rang with the wild echoes

which went floating down the valley below, where the sun was shining so

brightly and the grass was growing so green.

On his return to San Francisco after an absence of several weeks, he

took up his abode at the Palace Hotel, which he turned topsy-turvy with

his vagaries; but as in the valley, so here in the city, the landlord

could afford to bear much from one who spent his money so freely and

paid so lavishly; and so he was allowed to change rooms every day if he

liked, and half the plumbers in the city were called in to see what

caused the smells which he declared worse than anything he had ever met

in his life, and which were caused in part by the disinfectants which he

bought by the wholesale and kept in his bath room, his wash-room, and

under his bed, until the chambermaid tied her nose in camphor when she

went in to do her work.

But his career was brought to a close suddenly one morning in August,

when, just as he was taking his coffee and rolls in his room, Charles

brought him the following telegram:

'Come immediately. There's the devil to pay.

'TOM TRACY.'

Arthur read the message two or three times, not at all disturbed by it,

but vastly amused at its wording; then, putting it down, he went on with

his breakfast until it was finished, when he took a card from his pocket

and wrote upon it:

'Pay him then, for I sha'n't come. ARTHUR TRACY.'

This was handed to Charles with instructions to forward it to Tracy

Park. This done, he gave no further thought to the message so full of

such import to himself, but began to talk of and plan his contemplated

trip to Tacoma by the next steamer which sailed. It was six o'clock when

he had his dinner in his own private parlour, where he was served by

both Charles and a waiter, and where a second telegram was brought him.

'Confound it,' he said, 'have they nothing to do at home but to torment

me with telegrams? Didn't I tell them to pay the old Harry and have done

with it? What do they mean?' and putting the envelope down by his plate

he went quietly on with his dinner until he was through, when he took it

up, and, breaking the seal, read:

'Come at once. I need you. JERRIE.'

That changed everything, and with a bound he was in the next room,

gesticulating fiercely, and ordering Charles to step lively and get

everything in readiness to start home on the first eastward bound train

which left San Francisco.

'That rascally Tom is a liar,' he said. 'It's not the old Harry to pay.

It's Jerrie. Do you hear, it's Jerrie. Bring me some paper, quick, and

don't stand staring at me as if I were a lunatic. It's Jerrie who needs

me.'

Charles brought the paper, on which his master wrote:

'Coming on the wings of the wind, Yours respectfully,

'ARTHUR TRACY.'

In less than half an hour this singular message was flying along the

wires across the continent, and within a few hours Arthur was following

it as fast as the steam horse could take him.

Tracy Park: A Novel · 第 47 / 53 章