PIONEER HALL--OLD MIKE EXPLAINS--SOMETHING WRONG--THE BUSINESS OF
MINING--MIKE’S PHILOSOPHY--YANK AT THE BAY--THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE
BROOM PEDDLER--LUCKY BILL AND THE GAMBLERS--SAM PLUNKET, THE ARKANSAS
BEAUTY--PETE, THE BOSS LIAR OF THE YUBA.
Many questions were asked in relation to the new Pioneer hall. Jeff
explained that it was on Fourth street near the corner of Market; that
it contained a large hall, used for meetings, lectures, festivals
and other purposes, as well as for dancing by the young Pioneers. “I
attended one of their dances and I noticed that some of the old boys
themselves could just get around as lively as any of ’em.
“Then there is the ladies’ parlor, which is grand I tell you, with
its velvet sofas, divanzes and everything. There ain’t nothing around
here in the mines that can compare with it. Then up-stairs is a fine
billiard room, where I saw some of the old boys amusing themselves,
and I noticed that the most of ’em who played, were sure to get left
every time, jest as many of us used to in mining. ’Tis the same old
game, clear through. (You bet ’tis, was the general response.) There
is also a big smoking-room, and here were a number of the old boys
amusing themselves by playing checkers, dominoes and cards, and they
all looked a kinder happy and contended, with a sort of a ‘well, now
we have struck it’ kind of a look about ’em. Oh, by the way, there was
a large reading-room, too, containing several long tables which were
all covered with books and newspapers. And there were a number of old
boys sitting around in just the biggest kind of rocking chairs that you
ever did see. Some were reading, and some were asleep and just dreaming
about their old mining days.” Some one asked how many of the boys were
there now in the society, who were living, and how many had joined
since its organization in ’50?
[Illustration: PIONEER HALL.]
He explained that Mr. Graves, the Secretary, informed him that the
whole number who had joined the society was about 3,350, and of this
number there were now living about 1,300.
“Well, Jeff, did you make out to find the old ship once more that
brought you to California?”
“No, boys, but I found the great building that was built over her hull
on Sansome street, but the hull of the old ship is buried deep below
the mud and water out of sight entirely, and all that remains now of
the old ship is the name, the ‘Niantic.’”
After Jeff had concluded, an old-timer remarked that it was a great
pleasure to him to hear that so many of the old-timers were yet living,
and said he:
“I wish there was some way of finding out how many of the old-timers
are yet living, and what part of the world they are in.”
“Faith thin,” replied Mike, “indade an’ ’twud be er foine thing if we
wer afther knowin’ thet same. An’ if we wer afther knowin’ of ther b’ys
who are above the ground at ther prisint toime, thet we sailed with
around ther Horn so many long years since, an’ indade, if we could only
be afther mateing with some of thim, an talk ov ther ould times and
incidints av ther voyage, an’ ov ther lives ov thim since we landed
upon ther coast, do yez moind, pwhat tales we could be afther relatin’
to aich other, ov evints an’ incidints av a California loife.
“Pwhat a foine thing ’twould be, now, if some one wud jest be afther
gittin’ ther names ov ther b’ys who are now livin’. ’Twould be a hape
ov trouble an’ ixpensive, too, but bedad thin, twould be interestin’ to
all ov us. Now, Yank, yez had better undertake ther job ov gittin’ ther
names of thim for yez own satisfaction.”
Yank remarked that he had been thinking of doing so, and as soon as he
had an opportunity he would see what could be done.
Mike again remarked:
“Well now, me b’ys, ’tis many long years since ther news was afther
bein sint across ther continint that ther was jest slathers av gould
lyin’ around loose here, an’ aisy to git, do yez moind, an’ indade
thin thet’s jest what brought us here too, the lot av us. An’ pwhat a
change, begorra, has been afther takin’ place since we landed upon the
shores of California, for ’twas thin a wilderness, an’ the Indians, the
grizzlies an’ a variety ov other strange animiles, were monarchs ov all
they surveyed, thin, with not a blessed wan to dispute ther title, do
yez moind. But ther discovery ov gold changed all this, do yez see? Fur
now, where we was afther findin’ a wilderness thin, we see a number ov
towns an’ cities, an’ in the short space ov toime ov forty years we
now are afther obsarvin’ an empoire containin’ a million ov paple or
more, begorra. Doorin’ that space ov toime, too, there has been taken
from our gould moines an amount excadin’ a billion and a half dollars,
which has been scattered about among ther paple of ther country, do
yez moind. Indade, thin, ’tis thrue enough, be jabers, that ther b’ys
who was afther diggin’ it from ther sile, recaived a moity small share
ov the same for ther labor ov diggin’ it from the hills an’ mountains
about, for it saimed the whole toime to obsarve the same law as runnin’
wather, do yez moind; an’ as fast as ’twas afther bein’ taken from the
earth, it run in a containious straim down to ther big cities below,
an’ divil a bit could we be afther stoppin’ it, at all, at all.”
Another old-timer remarked that although the boys who dug out the gold
retained but a small proportion of it, yet the whole country in general
received the full benefit of it.
“Yis,” Mike replied, “thrue enough that same was the case, an’ do yez
call to moind, thin, ther wise spaich in ther Bible where it says that
to him who hath much more will be afther being given to that same, and
to him that hath nothin’ at all, at all, they will be afther deproivin’
him av the same troifling quantity, begorra. Well, me b’ys, that’s jest
the style av it, for ’tis a law av money now, do yez obsarve, that,
’twill be afther continually concintratin’ into the hands av the b’ys
who have got the most av it, do yez see? An’, in me own opinion, ’tis
jest as well, for they are the b’ys ginerally who know how to use it
for the benefit av the rest av us, do yez moind. For didn’t Mr. Lick,
thin, use his money in a dacint manner for the benefit av all the b’ys?
An’ didn’t he give thim a foine Hall down at the big city below, where
they can howld their matins’ to talk about ould-timers, rade ther
papers, an’ enj’y a quiet nap, begorra! and indade, thin, did not the
same ould gintleman spind his money frayly in erectin’ an obsarvatory
with a big tilliscope, do yez moind, to sarch ther hivens with,
expictin’ the whoile to discover in some av ther planets above anither
rich moining counthry where yez can be afther emigratin’ to whin yez
have wuorked out this wan? An’, indade, thin, wasn’t it another wan
av ther b’ys who gathered up more than his share afther spindin’ his
kine fraly in the buildin’ av an ixtinsive univarsity, to give our
children a bit av larnin’ av a louder style, begorra? Yis, indade thin,
the construction av foine buildin’s, av big warehouses, ther monstrous
staim ships, ther great manufactories, and ther railroads all over the
counthry, as well as ther extinsive canals and ditches, constructed to
give wather to ther barren places in ther counthry, begorra, is in me
own opinion an evidince that a fair portion ov the gould, at laist,
that we b’ys helped to dig from the river beds an’ mountains in ther
moinin’ ragion has collected into ther hands ov the b’ys who are jest
afther knowin’ how to use ther same for the binefit ov all, do yez
moind.”
Another old miner declared that there was something wrong about it;
that he couldn’t understand at all why so many of the miners who dug
so many millions of gold from the earth should all be so poor now, and
he believed ’twas owing to the greed and selfishness of the business
classes. They took all the advantage to rob the miners of their
well-earned share of the gold.
“No, not at all,” said Mike; “that, indade, is not the raison, but
’tis all owin’ to ther nater ov the moinin’ industry, an’ that I’ll
be afther ixplainin’, thin. Do yez obsarve the difference now betwain
the business ov mining an’ all other koinds; for, indade thin, has not
the moiner got his rich moin in ther beginnin’, whilst in all other
koinds it requoires long years to wurruk for it. As a man puts in his
toime and his money in any business, sure thin is it not incrasin’
in vally continually? An’ so it is with the lawyer, the doctor an’
with the mechanic too, now, do yez moind. Wan ov the b’ys takes up a
pace ov land; spends his toime an’ money in improvin’ that same, and,
begorra, the longer he works upon it, thin, the more valuable it is
afther growin’ the whoile; but divil a bit is the rich moine growin’ in
vally at all, at all. But do yez moind, thin, the longer yez are afther
wurrukin’ it thin the poorer ’tis growin’, an’ when ’tis wurruked out,
devil a cint can many of yez show for the toime an’ labor yes have
spint upon the same.”
Another one remarked, “Well, ’tis true enough, as you say, that the
gold we dig out flows into the big cities into the hands of a few
wealthy men, and ’tis for that reason that the rich are getting richer
whilst the poor are gittin’ poorer.”
“Well,” says Mike, “now yez are afther encrouching upon a question
in political economy that we ould miners are hardly competint to dale
with, begorra. But in me own opinion ’tis not thrue, as yez have
stated, that the rich are afther gittin’ richer, whoile the poor are
gittin’ poorer, at all, at all. It only saims to be the case, but not
so in fact, as oi will explain to yez. ’Tis thrue enough, that in
consequince ov the large quantity ov gould yez b’ys have dug from ther
hills above an’ thrown in circulation, the facilities ov scrapin’ large
quantities ov it in a hape by a few ov the b’ys in the big cities was
an aisy job, an’ by use ov the same, in a few years they were very rich
men. An’ if all the b’ys who were fortunate enough to do that same
could continue to live in the same manner, and ther children afther
thim, to inherit such conditions ov great wealth, why, then, ’twould
be thrue as yez hav sthated. But divil a bit is that the case. But why
not, are yez asking?
“Well, thin, jist be afther lookin’ back for a few years an’ callin’
to yez recollection ther b’ys who were wealthy thin, and where do yez
foind thim or ther descindents now? An’, indade, thin, couldn’t yez
spake ov many ov the b’ys who were ther poorest ov the lot a few years
ago, an’ are now the richest ov thim? An’ don’t that prove to yez that
changes are afther takin’ place containualy? The poor ov to-day may
be the wealthy b’ys ov next wake, an’ the sons ov the b’ys who are
now rejicin’ over ther good fortunes may be the b’ys who’ll hav the
hard wurruk to do in ther future, do yez moind. An’, agin, me b’ys,
as obsarvation shows us, more than noine-tinths ov the wealthy b’ys
to-day were poor, or the sons ov poor wurrukin’ min wanst, which is an
ividince that the opportunities for scrapin’ togither a hape ov wealth
is not confoined to any won class ov min, at all, at all; but ivery
divil a won ov yez has an aiqual opportunity wid all if yez only go
ther right way to wurruk to git it, be jabers.
“Now, these changes prove that altho’ at wan pariod in the lives ov
the wealthy b’ys they do increase in wealth, but yez’ll foind in toime
that noine-tinths ov thim grow poorer as they grow older, which is not
the case with the whiskey yez are afther drinking, thin, for that is
improvin’ the whoile. And yez’ll be after observin’, too, that ther
ranks ov the wealthy b’ys are bein’ containualy recruited from the
ranks ov the workin’ min ov the counthry, be jabers. ’Tis for these
raisons, me b’ys, acquoired by long exparience an’ observation, that
divil a bit are ther rich gitting richer or ther poor poorer, at all,
at all. Oh, yis, ’tis thrue enough thet it saims to be the case thet
the gould ov the counthry is being gobbled up by a few ov the b’ys, but
divil a bit is it thrue in fact, for to make money yez must use the
saime, an’ for that raison ’tis ividint that the circulation ov money
is constant an’ aiqual, an’ all ov yez hav aiqual opportunities for
usin’ that saime, begorra!”
Mike was now asked if he didn’t think that it would be better for the
country in general, or for the working classes in particular, if this
co-operative plan that we have heard so much about lately should be
adopted:
Mike answered:
“No, indade, thin, it would not, and for the raisins, me b’ys, that if
yez will only investigate ther incentives--that is the ground wurruk
ov all human action--yez will be afther foindin’ that all depinds upon
our future ixpictations. Now, me by’s, what is it that kape ther lot ov
yez er thrampin’ around among ther hills and the mountains from Arizoni
to Alasky, thin, but ther containual ixpictation of sthrikin’ er rich
mine? An’, indade, thin, is it not thrue ov all other human affairs,
begorra? What, thin, me b’ys, becomes ov all ixpictations when yez hav
all jined with the co-operative union, be jabers? Indade, thin, yez can
hav none at all, for yez are all shure of a livin’ an’ nothin’ more
to ixpict, an’ all ov yez are livin’ upon an aquality. Yis, indade,
thin, jist ask the workin’ min ov the counthry if they wud be contint
to live in such a style, whin they wud all be afther bein’ shure ov er
livin’, shure enough, but wid no ixpictations that aither thimselves
or ther children wud iver be inythin’ higher than workin’ min. An’, be
jabers, thin, they wud be afther sayin’ to yez: ‘Give us poverty, thin,
an’ hard wurruk, but divil a bit shall yez be afther deprivin’ us ov
ther containual ixpictations we hav that our b’ys may be in ther future
able to live like gintlemin widout ther necessity ov labor, at all, at
all.’ An’, faith, thin, do yez moind ther lad who was afther robbin’
ther melon patch, but accidentilly got among ther punkins, an’ whin
tould thet the owner ov ther melons wud give him all he wanted for the
askin’, said he: ‘Indade, thin, its meself, thin, who had rather ait a
grane punkin that I could stale than to ate a foine melon presented to
me.’
“Tis thrue enough,” continued Mike, “that the poor saims to be
continually incrasing in numbers in all ther large cities ov ther
country, begorra! but ther raisons fur this are that the inducements
are greater there, an’ to the minds ov the b’ys the prospects ov
gittin’ money much quicker an’ aisier saim more encouraging to thim,
do yez moind; but in me own opinion ’twould be better for ther most ov
thim to come out into ther counthry an’ try to make an honest living
from ther sile; that would aqualize ther labor ov ther counthry,
begorra, an’ tind to solve ther labor problem, begob!”
Mike was now asked the question, what method could be adopted that
would have the effect to bring all classes more upon an equality?
“None at all,” Mike answered, “Divil a bit is it necessary to do that
saim for I tell yez, me b’ys, that poverty, which saims to the most
ov yez to be a curse put upon man for his sins, is in fact ther base
an’ foundation ov all human enterprise, industry, and prosperity; now
was it not poverty, with a desire to escape from it, that brought
thousands ov yez old pioneers here to dig an’ thramp about among ther
mountains for gould? indade, thin, it was, for if yez hadn’t been poor,
divil a bit would one ov yez come at all, at all. An’ indade, thin,
was it not in consequence ov this same poverty (that many ov the b’ys
all over ther counthry are howling and cursing about,) that has been
ther mains ov ilivating ther whole counthry to such high conditions
ov development, shure, and it is thin, an’ ther prosperous condition
ov ther counthry to day with its great commarcial enterprises, its
railroads runnin’ in all directions from ther Atlantic to ther Pacific
Oceans, an’ with its mariads ov growing towns and cities springing
into existence among ther desert places, where but a few years since
was a vast wilderness occupied only by ther buffalo droves, and savage
Indians; all ov these wonderful changes, me b’ys, are only ther effects
ov poverty, be jabers. It must be plain to yez, thin, that poverty is a
necessity, an’ ther incintive to escape from it is ther bottom of ther
whole business, begorra!”
“Yes, that may all be very true” remarked another, “but when we take
a view of life around us and witness the great amount of misery and
suffering in all of our large cities, while a great portion of the
more fortunate are rolling in wealth, don’t you think that it would be
just and right to adopt some policy that would prevent such extreme
conditions of great wealth of a few and the poverty of the many?”
“Faith thin” says Mike “an’ ’tis this same idea upon which is founded
all ov thim isms that are after creating so much excitement among ther
workingmen ov ther counthry, begorra; it makes thim discontinted with
their conditions for ther raisons that ther laiders ov socialism, ov
Georgeism, anti-povertyism, nationalism an’ ther rest ov thim, are all
the toime taiching the b’ys that ther only raisons why they are so poor
is because others ov thim are so wealthy, begorra, and if their ideas
in relation to human affairs can only be carried out by previnting
them b’ys from incraising their wealth who are, owing to their good
habits and suparior abilities, the best able to do so, be jabers, will
in their opinion give ther poor b’ys a better opportunity to incraise
their wealth whether they are capable ov doing so or not; now, me b’ys,
is this a raisonable view ov the situation, for aint you b’ys who are
jest afther putting in your toime thramping ’round among the mountains
for a rich mine, begorra, more loikely to foind it than ther b’ys who
are all ther whoile contint to hang around in the cities, thin, huntin’
for an aisy job, and who are containually howling for yez to prisint
thim with an interest in yez mine, be jabers. Yis, m’ b’ys, observation
is afther taichin’ us ther fact that as a gineral rule thim b’ys who
are industrious thin, an’ who are afther acquiring good habits only,
are ther b’ys who are prosperous and, faith thin, in me own opinion
they desarve it, too.
“Now for these raisons, me b’ys, it is in me own opinion all darmed
nonsinse to talk about anti-poverty an’ an aiquality of conditions, for
we don’t want thim at all, at all.”
Yank next related his experience at the Bay. When he was down last
spring an acquaintance persuaded him to attend a reunion of the Old
Hangtown residents, or rather the old-timers of Eldorado County. Yank
explained that the residents of Tuolumne, Nevada and Eldorado Counties
hold what they call a reunion every year, generally about May 1. They
have them in Oakland at one of the numerous parks; generally; but
sometimes at other localities. He said that the one he attended was in
Badger’s Park, and there were as many as 1,500 people there. But among
all that crowd there was only one old Forty-niner whom he knew before,
although it was said that there were several others around on the
ground somewhere.
“I tell you” said he, “there were lots of people there whom I used to
know around old Hangtown in ’51 and ’52, and they all seemed kind of
glad to meet one another. Then there was a whole
[Illustration: LOST.]
regiment of youngsters and girls dancing in the hall, but they were all
babies when I left the diggings, so I didn’t know a single one of them.
They hold these meetings down there every year, and, boys, blamed if I
won’t try and go down every time if I can make a raise, for I tell you
it sets a fellow up again to meet all of these old-timers, and to have
a chat about old times.
“I came across an old acquaintance very unexpectedly down there whom I
thought was dead, and by consent of my old pard, Tennessee, I’ll tell
the whole story. You remember, boys, that in ’52 an old miner in Shasta
County discovered somewhere in the mountains a very rich cañon; he
was afterwards killed by the Indians. Many expeditions went in search
of the lost cañon but none could ever find it. In the spring of ’54 a
company, consisting of Tennessee, five others, and myself, concluded
to go in search of it, but, unfortunately, we started a little too
early in the spring, for on the fourth day out there came on a terrible
cold snow-storm, and of course we started home again. We got lost and
wandered about for three or four days, not knowing what course to
take, and, worse than all, we were nearly out of provisions. There
was a young Swede with us. He was a sailor chap who had come from San
Francisco to try his fortune in mining, and, being anxious to go with
us, we had brought him along. He was a smart, good-natured boy, and we
all thought a heap of him. Well, in the evening, we were all lounging
around the fire, talking over the situation, when one of the boys, just
for sport, proposed that we now right there and then cast lots to see
which one of us must be cut up to save the lives of the rest, as we
only had grub enough to last about one day longer. Of course the boy
was elected, as we intended, just to see if ’twould scare him any; but
he didn’t seem to mind it at all, for he laughed and joked about it,
when we had all decided to have him for breakfast in the morning.
“The sun rose clear the next morning, but we were astonished to find
upon getting up that Pete, the sailor boy, had vanished. He had become
frightened, believing that we were in earnest, and had started off
alone through the snowdrifts, only to get lost and perhaps destroyed by
bears. We determined to find him if t’was possible, so without stopping
to make a fire we ate a cold breakfast and were soon following his
trail, which we were enabled to trace easily for about twenty miles to
the bottom of a deep cañon. From that point, however, all traces of
it were lost. We returned home, determined to continue the search as
soon as possible. In a day or two we procured mules and searched among
the hills and cañons thoroughly in all directions for several days, but
nothing was ever heard of him, it being the conclusion of all that he
had been destroyed by a grizzly, which were very numerous at that time.
Well, I came across an old mining acquaintance in San Francisco who was
following the sea, and we took a walk down among the vessels. We were
lounging along down one of the wharves and I saw a man on board of a
small coasting schooner whom I though had rather a familiar look about
him. My acquaintance said that he didn’t know his name, but that he was
the owner of that vessel. I told my friend that I was going to see him,
so I jumped down on to the deck and spoke to the man, asking him if he
was the captain. He answered that he was, and he wanted to know if I
was looking for a job. I told him no, but that I had a great curiosity
to see him, as he reminded me very much of a young chap I once knew in
the mines. He asked me when. Said I: ‘More than thirty years ago, up in
Shasta County.’
“‘Well,’ said he, ‘I was up in that county about that time and got out
of there as quick as I could, as some of the old miners were talking
about eating me up.’
“As he said that I just grabbed hold of his hand, and said I:
“‘This is Pete, the sailor boy, isn’t it?’
“‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘but who are you?’
“‘Don’t you remember Yank?’ I asked; ‘one of those old miners who were
going to make a breakfast off of you?’
“Well, boys, he did remember me now, you bet.
“‘Mine gracious, is this Yank? Well! well! now come down into mine
cabin.’
“After we had both recovered a little from our astonishment, and I had
explained how we had hunted for him for several days among the hills
and cañons, he told me how he had managed to find his way out of the
mountains, after remaining up in a tree for more than two days to get
away from a big grizzly which he thought must have been some relation
to us old miners, some way, for the brute seemed determined to eat him
up, anyhow.
“‘But,’ said he, ‘the bear got tired and hungry waiting for me to come
down and finally went away, and then I came down and made tracks for
San Francisco pooty quick, and don’t want to go out prospecting any
more at all.’”
Yank continued by asking if any of them remembered the chap they called
“Razor Bill.”
“Oh, yis,” Mike answered, “indade I remimber him well whin he wurruked
down near Angel’s camp, an’ whin he wurruked up at Poverty Point, near
Hangtown, an’ he made a good dale ov money too, but, begorra, he wasn’t
the b’y to save it. I see him play cards with that same chap they
called ‘Lucky Bill,’ an’ he lost more than $800 at the game.”
“Well,” said Yank, “I saw him at the Bay. He is driving an express
wagon, and says that he is doing a very good business. He is married
now, and has five or six children.”
Tennessee remarked that any man who played the game of seven up with
“Lucky Bill” was sure to leave his dust there, for he was one of the
best card-players in California.
“Do you remember the time when he cleaned out them chaps from San
Francisco?” resumed Tennessee. “‘Twas in August of ’50, soon after his
arrival in Hangtown from the East. These two chaps had heard of him,
and that he had plenty of money, and they came up to clean him out.
His house was crowded that evening by the boys who wanted to see the
fun. It was agreed that one of these ’Frisco chaps should play ten
games, and then if luck was against him he should have the privilege
of quitting the game if he wished, and the other one could take his
place and play in the same manner. They brought (as was said) $11,000
with them, all in $50 slugs, which was piled upon the table, and an
equal sum was placed alongside of Bill. Both piles were decorated in
the usual manner, with a big revolver placed in a convenient position
for an emergency. The play was for $1,000 a game, and I tell you ’twas
interesting to see them piles of slugs travel back and forth in a
rapid manner from one side of the table to the other. But it was soon
noticed that many of these stacks of slugs that had waltzed across to
Lucky Bill’s side didn’t seem to be inclined to waltz back again. The
consequence was that at the end of two hours they had played thirty-one
games, and every slug was under the protection of Bill’s gun.
“‘Well,’ says one of the chaps, ‘that ends our game, for you have got
it all.’
“Bill shoved a stack of slugs over to them, remarking: ‘There, boys,
take that to pay your expenses.’
“‘No, no; not a cent,’ one of them replied, ‘it is all yours, for you
have played a straight, square game, and we will not take a dollar of
it.’”
[Illustration: “THAT’S THER, THER ’TOTHER ONE.”]
Some one enquired of Jersey if he knew what ever became of Pete, the
boss liar of the Yuba? as the boys called him; Jersey replied that he
was killed by a bear up in Plumas County sometime in ’54. Pete and
two others were prospecting in a ravine one day, when a big grizzly
came upon them from the brush; his pardners got away by climbing up
a steep hill and went for assistance, but Pete had been caved upon a
short time before and couldn’t run, so he and the bear had the whole
circus to themselves for a while; they rescued him but ’twas too late,
he was torn all to pieces. But he was true to his colors to the last,
for after they had taken him to his cabin to die, almost his last words
were, “well boys, I got away with one of ’em any how, and if I’d only
had a fair show I’d ’er cleaned ’em both out” but when told that there
was but one bear there, he answered: “Oh, yes, ther was, for didn’t yer
notice lots or hair and bear’s grease scattered about on ther rocks?”
the boys said they did. “Well,” says Pete with his dying breath,
“that’s ther, ther tother one.”
“Ah!” continued Jersey, “but Pete was a fine talker and his persuasive
eloquence was almost irresistible; he said once that his father was
a life-insurance agent down in Connecticut, and that he himself had
inherited a faculty for the business, and intended to follow it when he
returned East.”
[Illustration: SAM’S SHADOW AND THE INDIANS.]
There was an old Irishman living on the bar at that time by the name
of Pat Flynn. Pete was in his cabin one Sunday morning, and Pat wanted
to trim up his long hair with a large pair of shears, but couldn’t
find his piece of looking-glass. Pete said that he would go and get
his own for him, so he went and found a brick, and bet the drinks with
one of the boys that he would convince Pat that it was a looking-glass
and that he would use it to cut his hair with. Well, it was hard work,
and it took a good deal of talking to convince Pat, but after looking
it all over, and turning it in his hand, he remarked, “that ’twas a
quare glass but, be jabers, I’ll give it a thry, any how,” and he did;
in a few moments, however, he come near clipping off one of his ears;
grabbing the brick from the table, as Pete started to run he threw it
at him, at the same time exclaiming, “Pete, yez are a darmed liar.” “I
know it, thats my trade, Pat” says Pete as he started away, and he won
the drinks.
[Illustration: BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.]
Some one asked Bolzer what became of Sam Plunkett, the Arkansas beauty,
as they called him. Bolzer stated that after they had finished working
out their joint claim in Georgetown cañon, in the spring of ’50, Sam
went north, and was supposed to have been killed by the Modoc Indians
in the summer of ’56, as he went on a prospecting expedition up into
that country about that time, and was never heard of afterwards.
“If the Indians did kill him,” Bolzer continued, “they must have done
it when he was asleep some dark night, for they never dared to go near
enough to kill him in the daylight. Why, Sam told me once that he was
offered a big salary to travel with a show as a natural curiosity, and
I asked why he didn’t. Well, he said he would, but there was another
chap in his native State who was jealous of him, and told him if he
joined that show he would kill him later, sure. Sam said they hired
’tother chap, but they didn’t keep him long, for the farmers all over
the country made such a fuss, and threatened to kill him if he didn’t
git out. I asked Sam why the farmers were all down on him, and he said
that in every section of the country he passed through, the milk all
turned sour.
Bolzer then related an incident to show why the Indians were afraid to
get near enough to Sam to kill him.
“Upon one occasion,” said Bolzer “Sam, in company with a chap they
called ‘Sleepy Ben,’ started upon a prospecting expedition away up
north, and Ben tells for a fact that when, in passing around a point
near the mouth of a ravine, they saw, just a short distance beyond,
four or five Indians who were apparently very badly scared at something
upon the opposite side of the ravine, for they ran for their ponies,
which they mounted in a great hurry, and were out of sight among the
rocks and brush beyond in a jiffy. Ben said they were astonished, and
couldn’t imagine what the Indians were so badly scared at, but, upon
coming in sight of the opposite side of the ravine, there upon the face
of a high ledge of rock was the shadow of Sam with his roll of blankets
upon his back, looking for all the world like a huge camel walking upon
its hind legs.”
Bolzer was asked if he believed the yarn that was told about Sam
frightening a bear to death up in Nevada County, in the fall of ’50.
Bolzer replied that Dutch Pete, who was with Sam at the time, said
’twas true. Upon some one asking about the circumstances, Bolzer
related that Sam and Pete had been into town and were on their way home
again with a sack of flour and other articles upon their shoulders. Sam
was in the lead, and just as they were opposite a cluster of bushes a
huge grizzly bear met them in the trail, and, raising itself upon its
hind legs, laid its forepaws in a playful manner upon Sam’s shoulders.
Sam had a heavy load on his back, and being somewhat astonished at the
sudden appearance of the bear he stood perfectly still, and looked
his unwelcome visitor square in the face. The bear also, by the way,
seemed to be as much astonished as Sam was, and Pete said that it would
look very earnestly at Sam, first out of one eye and then turning its
head it would gaze at him for a minute with the other, and then it
would lower its head, and closing both eyes, seemed to be thinking to
itself whether it had ever in the course of its life come across such
a looking object before, and whether ’twas dangerous or not. Pete said
the animal seemed to think that the queer-looking thing was dangerous,
and that he had “shust got dem paws into it, for he shost rolled his
eyes up and pooty sudden all at vunce he falls over on top mit his
back, und den he durns his eye up to Sam, strikes at him mit his paw,
und daking von long breath vas dead right avay as von big nail, by
shiminy.”
[Illustration: THE POWER OF BEAUTY.]
“This was Pete’s account of the affair,” concluded Bolzer. “Well, Sam
was the ugliest man in the universe, and he seemed to be proud of it,
too. He said once that he would be remembered after he was dead a spell
longer ‘than you good-lookin’ chaps,’ and that seemed to console him
for his ugliness. It was stated by a man who crossed the plains in
the same train with Sam, that the whole train was at one time in the
greatest danger of being run over and trampled to death by an immense
drove of buffaloes, but Sam, seeing the danger just in time, walked
towards the drove when it was almost upon them, and it divided, passing
upon either side. His presence of mind in showing himself to the drove
at the right time saved the lives of more than one hundred men, women
and children.”