ROMANCE OF CALIFORNIA LIFE
Illustrated by Pacific Slope Stories,
Thrilling, Pathetic and Humorous
by
JOHN HABBERTON
Author Of "Helen's Babies"
1880
[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE]
INTRODUCTION
Many of the sketches contained in "Some Folks" were written by me during
the past five years, and some of them published by Mr. Leslie in his
_Illustrated Newspaper_ and his _Chimney Corner_, from which journals
they have been collected by friends who believe that in these stories is
displayed better workmanship than I have since done. For myself, I can
claim for them only an unusual degree of that unliterary and unpopular
quality called truthfulness. Although at present mildly tolerated in the
East, I was "brought up" in the West, and have written largely from
recollection of "some folks" I have known, veritable men and women,
scenes and incidents, and otherwise through the memories of Western
friends of good eyesight and hearing powers.
Should any one accuse me of having imitated Bret Harte's style, I shall
accept the accusation as a compliment, for I know of no other American
story writer so worthy to be taken as a teacher by men who acceptably
tell the stories of new countries. For occasionally introducing
characters and motives that would not be considered disgraceful in
virtuous communities, I can only plead in excuse the fact that, even in
the New West, some folks will occasionally be uniformly thoughtful,
respectable and honest, just as individuals sometimes are in the East.
JOHN HABBERTON.
NEW YORK, July 1st, 1877.
To FRANK LESLIE,
Who, while other publishers were advising the writer of these sketches
to write, supplied the author with encouragement in the shape of a
publishing medium and the lucre which all literary men despise but long
for, this volume is respectfully dedicated by
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
THE SCHOOLTEACHER AT BOTTLE FLAT
JIM HOCKSON'S REVENGE
MAKING HIS MARK
CODAGO
THE LAST PIKE AT JAGGER'S BEND
FIRST PRAYER AT HANNEY'S
THE NEW SHERIFF OF BUNKER COUNTY
MAJOR MARTT'S FRIEND
BUFFLE
MATALETTE'S SECTION
A STORY OF TEN MILE GULCH
CAPTAIN SAM'S CHANGE
MISS FEWNE'S LAST CONQUEST
MARKSON'S HOUSE
GRUMP'S PET
WARDELOW'S BOY
TOM CHAFFLIN'S LUCK
OLD TWITCHETT'S TREASURE
BLIZZER'S WIFE
A BOARDING-HOUSE ROMANCE
RETIRING FROM BUSINESS
THE HARDHACK MISTAKE
THE CARMI CHUMS
LITTLE GUZZY
A ROMANCE OF HAPPY REST
TWO POWERFUL ARGUMENTS
MR. PUTCHETT'S LOVE
THE MEANEST MAN AT BLUGSEY'S
DEACON BARKER'S CONVERSION
JOE GATTER'S LIFE INSURANCE
THE TEMPERANCE MEETING AT BACKLEY
JUDE
A LOVE OF A COTTAGE
THE BLEIGHTON RIVALS
BUDGE AND TODDIE AT AUNT ALICE'S
SAILING UP STREAM
FREE SPEECH
ILLUSTRATIONS
FRONTISPIECE
TOLEDO AND THE COMMITTEE'S VISIT
"HE HELD IT UNDER THE LIGHT"
"THEY FOUND HIM SENSELESS," ETC
FINDING THE BABY
THE GOLDEN HARVEST
PASSING THE HAT
EAST PATTEN
THE ROUGH GREETING
THE BABY'S NAME
THE DESERTED COTTAGE
THE PRAIRIE FARM
AN INVITATION TO WAIT
A LOVELY EXPERIENCE--"SPILED"
A STRANGE PROCEDURE
THE PLACARD ON THE DOOR
THE CIRCUIT PREACHER
KISSING SUNRISE
A DISCOVERY
THE LIKENESS
MOTHER AND SON MEET
COUNTRY INQUISITIVENESS
HUSBAND AND WIFE
IN PRISON
RUM VALLEY
NEAR HIS END
THE BONNEYS EMIGRATE
MR. PUTCHETT'S NEW FRIEND
"GOOD-BY, LITTLE ANGEL!"
COOL IN FACE OF DANGER
"THAT'S PET'S MOTHER"
THE RICH MAN'S CHURCH
TALKING OVER INSURANCE
THE MEETING
"GET HIM! GET JOHNNY!"
DOWN THE STREAM
THE WELCOME HOME
THE COTTAGE
"I CAME TO PLEAD FOR THE MAJOR"
PROCESS OF BEING LOCKED UP
BREAKFAST
SOME FOLKS.
THE SCHOOLTEACHER AT BOTTLE FLAT.
It certainly _was_ hard. What was the freedom of a country in which the
voice of the original founders was spent in vain? Had not they, the
"Forty" miners of Bottle Flat, really started the place? Hadn't they
located claims there? Hadn't they contributed three ounces each,
ostensibly to set up in business a brother miner who unfortunately lost
an arm, but really that a saloon might be opened, and the genuineness
and stability of the camp be assured? Hadn't they promptly killed or
scared away every Chinaman who had ever trailed his celestial pig-tail
into the Flat? Hadn't they cut and beaten a trail to Placerville, so
that miners could take a run to that city when the Flat became too
quiet? Hadn't they framed the squarest betting code in the whole
diggings? And when a 'Frisco man basely attempted to break up the camp
by starting a gorgeous saloon a few miles up the creek, hadn't they gone
up in a body and cleared him out, giving him only ten minutes in which
to leave the creek for ever? All this they had done, actuated only by a
stern sense of duty, and in the patient anticipation of the reward which
traditionally crowns virtuous action. But now--oh, ingratitude of
republics!--a schoolteacher was to be forced upon Bottle Flat in spite
of all the protest which they, the oldest inhabitants, had made!
Such had been their plaint for days, but the sad excitement had not been
productive of any fights, for the few married men in the camp prudently
absented themselves at night from "The Nugget" saloon, where the matter
was fiercely discussed every evening. There was, therefore, such an
utter absence of diversity of opinion, that the most quarrelsome
searched in vain for provocation.
On the afternoon of the day on which the opening events of this story
occurred, the boys, by agreement, stopped work two hours earlier than
usual, for the stage usually reached Bottle Flat about two hours before
sundown, and the one of that day was to bring the hated teacher. The
boys had wellnigh given up the idea of further resistance, yet curiosity
has a small place even in manly bosoms, and they could at least _look_
hatred at the detested pedagogue. So about four o'clock they gathered at
The Nugget so suddenly, that several fathers; who were calmly drinking
inside, had barely time to escape through the back windows.
The boys drank several times before composing themselves into their
accustomed seats and leaning-places; but it was afterward asserted and
Southpaw--the one-armed bar-keeper--cited as evidence, that none of them
took sugar in their liquor. They subjected their sorrow to homeopathic
treatment by drinking only the most raw and rasping fluids that the bar
afforded.
The preliminary drinking over, they moodily whittled, chewed, and
expectorated; a stranger would have imagined them a batch of miserable
criminals awaiting transportation.
The silence was finally broken by a decided-looking red-haired man, who
had been neatly beveling the door-post with his knife, and who spoke as
if his words only by great difficulty escaped being bitten in two.
"We ken burn down the schoolhouse right before his face and eyes, and
then mebbe the State Board'll git our idees about eddycation."
"Twon't be no use, Mose," said Judge Barber, whose legal title was
honorary, and conferred because he had spent some time in a penitentiary
in the East. "Them State Board fellers is wrong, but they've got grit,
ur they'd never hev got the schoolhouse done after we rode the
contractor out uv the Flat on one of his own boards. Besides, some uv
'em might think we wuz rubbin' uv it in, an' next thing you know'd
they'd be buildin' us a jail."
"Can't we buy off these young uns' folks?" queried an angular fellow
from Southern Illinois. "They're a mizzable pack of shotes, an' I
b'leeve they'd all leave the camp fur a few ounces."
"Ye--es," drawled the judge, dubiously; "but thar's the Widder
Ginneys--_she'd_ pan out a pretty good schoolroom-full with her eight
young uns, an' there ain't ounces enough in the diggin's to make _her_
leave while Tom Ginneys's coffin's roostin' under the rocks."
"Then," said Mose, the first speaker, his words escaping with even more
difficulty than before, "throw around keards to see who's to marry the
widder, an' boss her young uns. The feller that gits the fust Jack's to
do the job."
"Meanin' no insult to this highly respectable crowd," said the judge, in
a very bland tone, and inviting it to walk up to the bar and specify its
consolation, "I don't b'leeve there's one uv yer the widder'd hev." The
judge's eye glanced along the line at the bar, and he continued softly,
but in decided accents--"Not a cussed one. But," added the judge,
passing his pouch to the barkeeper, "if anything's to be done, it must
be done lively, fur the stage is pretty nigh here. Tell ye what's ez
good ez ennything. We'll crowd around the stage, fust throwin' keards
for who's to put out his hoof to be accidently trod onto by the infernal
teacher ez he gits out. Then satisfaction must be took out uv the
teacher. It'll be a mean job, fur these teachers hevn't the spunk of a
coyote, an' ten to one he won't hev no shootin' irons, so the job'll hev
to be done with fists."
"Good!" said Mose. "The crowd drinks with me to a square job, and no
backin'. Chuck the pasteboards, jedge--The--dickens!" For Mose had got
first Jack.
"Square job, and no backin'," said the judge, with a grin. "There's the
stage now--hurry up, fellers!"
The stage drew up with a crash in front of The Nugget, and the
passengers, outside and in, but none looking teacherish, hurried into
the saloon. The boys scarcely knew whether to swear from disappointment
or gratification, when a start from Mose drew their attention again to
the stage. On the top step appeared a small shoe, above which was
visible a small section of stocking far whiter and smaller than is usual
in the mines. In an instant a similar shoe appeared on the lower step,
and the boys saw, successively, the edge of a dress, a waterproof cloak,
a couple of small gloved hands, a bright muffler, and a pleasant face
covered with brown hair, and a bonnet. Then they heard a cheerful voice
say:
"I'm the teacher, gentlemen--can any one show me the schoolhouse?"
The miserable Mose looked ghastly, and tottered. A suspicion of a wink
graced the judge's eye, but he exclaimed in a stern, low tone: "Square
job, an' no backin'," upon which Mose took to his heels and the
Placerville trail.
The judge had been a married man, so he promptly answered:
"I'll take yer thar, mum, ez soon ez I git yer baggage."
"Thank you," said the teacher; "that valise under the seat is all."
The judge extracted a small valise marked "Huldah Brown," offered his
arm, and he and the teacher walked off before the astonished crowd as
naturally as if the appearance of a modest-looking young lady was an
ordinary occurrence at the Flat.
The stage refilled, and rattled away from the dumb and staring crowd,
and the judge returned.
"Well, boys," said he, "yer got to marry _two_ women, now, to stop that
school, an' you'll find this un more particler than the widder. I just
tell yer what it is about that school--it's a-goin' to go on, spite uv
any jackasses that wants it broke up; an' any gentleman that's insulted
ken git satisfaction by--"
"Who wants it broke up, you old fool?" demanded Toledo, a man who had
been named after the city from which he had come, and who had been from
the first one of the fiercest opponents of the school. "I move the
appointment uv a committee of three to wait on the teacher, see if the
school wants anything money can buy, take up subscriptions to git it,
an' lay out any feller that don't come down with the dust when he's went
fur."
[Illustration: TOLEDO AND THE COMMITTEEMEN'S VISIT TO THE
SOHOOLTEACHER.]
"Hurray!" "Bully!" "Good!" "Sound!" "Them's the talk!" and other
sympathetic expressions, were heard from the members of the late
anti-school party.
The judge, who, by virtue of age, was the master of ceremonies and
general moderator of the camp, very promptly appointed a committee,
consisting of Toledo and two miners, whose attire appeared the most
respectable in the place, and instructed them to wait on the schoolmarm,
and tender her the cordial support of the miners.
Early the next morning the committee called at the schoolhouse, attached
to which were two small rooms in which teachers were expected to keep
house.
The committee found the teacher "putting to rights" the schoolroom. Her
dress was tucked up, her sleeves rolled, her neck hidden by a bright
handkerchief, and her hair "a-blowin' all to glory," as Toledo afterward
expressed it. Between the exertion, the bracing air, and the excitement
caused by the newness of everything, Miss Brown's pleasant face was
almost handsome.
"Mornin', marm," said Toledo, raising a most shocking hat, while the
remaining committee-men expeditiously ranged themselves behind him, so
that the teacher might by no chance look into their eyes.
"Good-morning, gentlemen," said Miss Brown, with a cheerful smile,
"please be seated. I suppose you wish to speak of your children?"
Toledo, who was a very young man, blushed, and the whole committee was
as uneasy on its feet as if its boots had been soled with fly-blisters.
Finally, Toledo answered:
"Not much, marm, seein' we ain't got none. Me an' these gentlemen's a
committee from the boys."
"From the boys?" echoed Miss Brown. She had heard so many wonderful
things about the Golden State, that now she soberly wondered whether
bearded men called themselves boys, and went to school.
"From the miners, washin' along the crick, marm--they want to know what
they ken do fur yer," continued Toledo.
"I am very grateful," said Miss Brown; "but I suppose the local school
committee--"
"Don't count on them, marm," interrupted Toledo; "they're livin' five
miles away, and they're only the preacher, an' doctor, an' a feller
that's j'ined the church lately. None uv 'em but the doctor ever shows
themselves at the saloon, an' _he_ only comes when there's a diffikilty,
an' he's called in to officiate. But the boys--the boys hez got the
dust, marm, an' they've got the will. One uv us'll be in often to see
what can be done fur yer. Good-mornin', marm."
Toledo raided his hat again, the other committee-men bowed profoundly to
all the windows and seats, and then the whole retired, leaving Miss
Brown in the wondering possession of an entirely new experience.
"Well?" inquired the crowd, as the committee approached the creek.
"Well," replied Toledo, "she's just a hundred an' thirty pound nugget,
an' no mistake--hey, fellers?"
"You bet," promptly responded the remainder of the committee.
"Good!" said the judge. "What does she want?"
Toledo's countenance fell.
"By thunder!" he replied, "we got out 'fore she had a chance to tell
us!"
The judge stared sharply upon the young man, and hurriedly turned to
hide a merry twitching of his lips.
That afternoon the boys were considerably astonished and scared at
seeing the schoolmistress walking quickly toward the creek. The
chairman of the new committee was fully equal to the occasion. Mounting
a rock, he roared:
"You fellers without no sherts on, git. You with shoes off, put 'em on.
Take your pants out uv yer boots. Hats off when the lady comes. Hurry
up, now--no foolin'."
The shirtless ones took a lively double-quick toward some friendly
bushes, the boys rolled down their sleeves and pantaloons, and one or
two took the extra precaution to wash the mud off their boots.
Meanwhile Miss Brown approached, and Toledo stepped forward.
"Anything wrong up at the schoolhouse?" said he.
"Oh, no," replied Miss Brown, "but I have always had a great curiosity
to see how gold was obtained. It seems as if it must be very easy to
handle those little pans. Don't you--don't you suppose some miner would
lend me his pan and let me try just _once?_"
"Certingly, marm; ev'ry galoot ov'em would be glad of the chance. Here,
you fellers--who's got the cleanest pan?"
Half a dozen men washed out their pans, and hurried off with them.
Toledo selected one, put in dirt and water, and handed it to Miss Brown.
"Thar you are, marm, but I'm afeared you'll wet your dress."
"Oh, that won't harm," cried Miss Brown, with a laugh which caused one
enthusiastic miner to "cut the pigeon-wing."
She got the miner's touch to a nicety, and in a moment had a spray of
dirty water flying from the edge of the pan, while all the boys stood in
a respectful semicircle, and stared delightedly. The pan empty, Toledo
refilled it several times; and, finally, picking out some pebbles and
hard pieces of earth, pointed to the dirty, shiny deposit in the bottom
of the pan, and briefly remarked:
"Thar 'tis, marm."
"Oh!" screamed Miss Brown, with delight; "is that really gold-dust?"
"That's it," said Toledo. "I'll jest put it up fur yer, so yer ken
kerry it."
"Oh, no," said Miss Brown, "I couldn't think of it--it isn't mine."
"You washed it out, marm, an' that makes a full title in these parts."
All of the traditional honesty of New England came into Miss Brown's
face in an instant; and, although she, Yankee-like, estimated the value
of the dust, and sighingly thought how much easier it was to win gold in
that way than by forcing ideas into stupid little heads, she firmly
declined the gold, and bade the crowd a smiling good-day.
"Did yer see them little fingers uv hern a-holdin' out that pan?--did
yer see her, fellers?" inquired an excited miner.
"Yes, an' the way she made that dirt git, ez though she was useder to
washin' than wallopin'," said another.
"Wallopin'!" echoed a staid miner. "I'd gie my claim, an' throw in my
pile to boot, to be a young 'un an' git walloped by them playthings of
han's."
"Jest see how she throwed dirt an' water on them boots," said another,
extending an enormous ugly boot. "Them boots ain't fur sale now--them
ain't."
"Them be durned!" contemptuously exclaimed another. "She tramped right
on my toes as she backed out uv the crowd."
Every one looked jealously at the last speaker, and a grim old fellow
suggested that the aforesaid individual had obtained a trampled foot by
fraud, and that each man in camp had, consequently, a right to demand
satisfaction of him.
But the judge decided that he of the trampled foot was right, and that
any miner who wouldn't take such a chance, whether fraudulently or
otherwise, hadn't the spirit of a man in him.
Yankee Sam, the shortest man in camp, withdrew from the crowd, and paced
the banks of the creek, lost in thought. Within half an hour Sam was
owner of the only store in the place, had doubled the prices of all
articles of clothing contained therein, and increased at least six-fold
the price of all the white shirts.
Next day the sun rose on Bottle Flat in his usual conservative and
impassive manner. Had he respected the dramatic proprieties, he would
have appeared with astonished face and uplifted hands, for seldom had a
whole community changed so completely in a single night.
Uncle Hans, the only German in the camp, had spent the preceding
afternoon in that patient investigation for which the Teutonic mind is
so justly noted. The morning sun saw over Hans's door a sign, in
charcoal, which read, "SHAVIN' DUN HIER"; and few men went to the creek
that morning without submitting themselves to Hans's hands.
Then several men who had been absent from the saloon the night before
straggled into camp, with jaded mules and new attire. Carondelet Joe
came in, clad in a pair of pants, on which slender saffron-hued serpents
ascended graceful gray Corinthian columns, while from under the collar
of a new white shirt appeared a cravat, displaying most of the lines of
the solar spectrum.
Flush, the Flat champion at poker, came in late in the afternoon, with a
huge watch-chain, and an overpowering bosom-pin, and his horrid fingers
sported at least one seal-ring each.
Several stove-pipe hats were visible in camp, and even a pair of gloves
were reported in the pocket of a miner.
Yankee Sam had sold out his entire stock, and prevented bloodshed over
his only bottle of hair-oil by putting it up at a raffle, in forty
chances, at an ounce a chance. His stock of white shirts, seven in
number, were visible on manly forms; his pocket combs and glasses were
all gone; and there had been a steady run on needles and thread. Most of
the miners were smoking new white clay pipes, while a few thoughtful
ones, hoping for a repetition of the events of the previous day, had
scoured their pans to a dazzling brightness.
As for the innocent cause of all this commotion, she was fully as
excited as the miners themselves. She had never been outside of Middle
Bethany, until she started for California. Everything on the trip had
been strange, and her stopping-place and its people were stranger than
all. The male population of Middle Bethany, as is usual with small New
England villages, consisted almost entirely of very young boys and very
old men. But here at Bottle Flat were hosts of middle-aged men, and such
funny ones! She was wild to see more of them, and hear them talk; yet,
her wildness was no match for her prudence. She sighed to think how
slightly Toledo had spoken of the minister on the local committee, and
she piously admitted to herself that Toledo and his friends were
undoubtedly on the brink of the bottomless pit, and yet--they certainly
were very kind. If she could only exert a good influence upon these
men--but how?
Suddenly she bethought herself, of the grand social centre of Middle
Bethany--the singing-school. Of course, she couldn't start a
singing-school at Bottle Flat, but if she were to say the children
needed to be led in singing, would it be very hypocritical? She might
invite such of the miners as were musically inclined to lead the school
in singing in the morning, and thus she might, perhaps, remove some of
the prejudice which, she had been informed, existed against the school.
She broached the subject to Toledo, and that faithful official had
nearly every miner in camp at the schoolhouse that same evening. The
judge brought a fiddle, Uncle Hans came with a cornet, and Yellow Pete
came grinning in with his darling banjo.
There was a little disappointment all around when the boys declared
their ignorance of "Greenville" and "Bonny Doon," which airs Miss Brown
decided were most easy for the children to begin with; but when it was
ascertained that the former was the air to "Saw My Leg Off," and the
latter was identical with the "Three Black Crows," all friction was
removed, and the melodious howling attracted the few remaining boys at
the saloon, and brought them up in a body, led by the barkeeper himself.
The exact connection between melody and adoration is yet an unsolved
religio-psychological problem. But we all know that everywhere in the
habitable globe the two intermingle, and stimulate each other, whether
the adoration be offered to heavenly or earthly objects. And so it came
to pass that, at the Bottle Flat singing-school, the boys looked
straight at the teacher while they raised their tuneful voices; that
they came ridiculously early, so as to get front seats; and that they
purposely sung out of tune, once in a while, so as to be personally
addressed by the teacher.
And she--pure, modest, prudent, and refined--saw it all, and enjoyed it
intensely. Of course, it could never go any further, for though there
was in Middle Bethany no moneyed aristocracy, the best families scorned
alliances with any who were undegenerate, and would not be unequally
yoked with those who drank, swore, and gambled--let alone the fearful
suspicion of murder, which Miss Brown's imagination affixed to every man
at the Flat.
But the boys themselves--considering the unspeakable contempt which had
been manifested in the camp for the profession of teaching, and for all
who practiced it--the boys exhibited a condescension truly Christian.
They vied with each other in manifesting it, and though the means were
not always the most appropriate, the honesty of the sentiment could not
be doubted.
One by one the greater part of the boys, after adoring and hoping, saw
for themselves that Miss Brown could never be expected to change her
name at their solicitation. Sadder but better men, they retired from the
contest, and solaced themselves by betting on the chances of those still
"on the track," as an ex-jockey tersely expressed the situation.
There was no talk of "false hearted" or "fair temptress," such as men
often hear in society; for not only had all the tenderness emanated from
manly breasts alone, but it had never taken form of words.
Soon the hopeful ones were reduced to half a dozen of these. Yankee Sam
was the favorite among the betting men, for Sam, knowing the habits of
New England damsels, went to Placerville one Friday, and returned next
day with a horse and buggy. On Sunday he triumphantly drove Miss Brown
to the nearest church. Ten to one was offered on Sam that Sunday
afternoon, as the boys saw the demure and contented look on Miss Brown's
face as she returned from church. But Samuel followed in the sad
footsteps of many another great man, for so industriously did he drink
to his own success that he speedily developed into a bad case of
_delirium tremens_.
Then Carondelet Joe, calmly confident in the influence of his wonderful
pants, led all odds in betting. But one evening, when Joe had managed to
get himself in the front row and directly before the little teacher,
that lady turned her head several times and showed signs of discomfort.
When it finally struck the latter that the human breath might, perhaps,
waft toward a lady perfumes more agreeable than those of mixed drinks,
he abruptly quitted the school and the camp.
Flush, the poker champion, carried with him to the singing-school that
astounding impudence which had long been the terror and admiration of
the camp. But a quality which had always seemed exactly the thing when
applied to poker seemed to the boys barely endurable when displayed
toward Miss Brown.
One afternoon, Flush indiscreetly indulged in some triumphant and rather
slighting remarks about the little teacher. Within fifteen minutes,
Flush's final earthly home had been excavated, and an amateur undertaker
was making his coffin.
An untimely proposal by a good-looking young Mexican, and his prompt
rejection, left the race between Toledo and a Frenchman named Lecomte.
It also left Miss Brown considerably frightened, for until now she had
imagined nothing more serious than the rude admiration which had so
delighted her at first.
But now, who knew but some one else would be ridiculous? Poor little
Miss Brown suffered acutely at the thought of giving pain, and
determined to be more demure than ever.
But alas! even her agitation seemed to make her more charming to her two
remaining lovers.
Had the boys at the saloon comprehended in the least the cause of Miss
Brown's uneasiness, they would have promptly put both Lecomte and Toledo
out of the camp, or out of the world. But to their good-natured,
conceited minds it meant only that she was confused, and unable to
decide, and unlimited betting was done, to be settled upon the
retirement of either of the contestants.
And while patriotic feeling influenced the odds rather in Toledo's
favor, it was fairly admitted that the Frenchman was a formidable rival.
To all the grace of manner, and the knowledge of women that seems to run
in Gallic blood, he was a man of tolerable education and excellent
taste. Besides, Miss Brown was so totally different from French women,
that every development of her character afforded him an entirely new
sensation, and doubled his devotion.
Toledo stood his ground manfully, though the boys considered it a very
bad sign when he stopped drinking, and spent hours in pacing the ground
in front of his hut, with his hands behind him, and his eyes fixed on
the ground.
Finally, when he was seen one day to throw away his faithful old pipe,
heavy betters hastened to "hedge" as well as they might.
Besides, as one of the boys truthfully observed, "He couldn't begin to
wag a jaw along with that Frenchman."
But, like many other young men, he could talk quite eloquently with his
eyes, and as the language of the eyes is always direct, and purely
grammatical, Miss Brown understood everything they said, and, to her
great horror, once or twice barely escaped talking back.
The poor little teacher was about to make the whole matter a subject of
special prayer, when a knock at the door startled her.
She answered it, and beheld the homely features of the judge.
"I just come in to talk a little matter that's been botherin' me some
time. Ye'll pardon me ef I talk a little plain?" said he.
"Certainly," replied the teacher, wondering if he, too, had joined her
persecutors.
"Thank ye," said the judge, looking relieved. "It's all right. I've got
darters to hum ez big ez you be, an' I want to talk to yer ez ef yer was
one uv 'em."
The judge looked uncertain for a moment, and then proceeded:
"That feller Toledo's dead in love with yer--uv course you know it,
though 'tain't likely he's told yer.' All I want to say 'bout him is,
drop him kindly. He's been took so bad sence you come, that he's stopped
drinkin' an' chewin' an' smokin' an' cussin', an' he hasn't played a
game at The Nugget sence the first singin'-school night. Mebbe this all
ain't much to you, but you've read 'bout that woman that was spoke well
uv fur doin' what she could. He's the fust feller I've ever seen in the
diggin's that went back on all the comforts uv life, an'--an' I've been
a young man myself, an' know how big a claim it's been fur him to work.
I ain't got the heart to see him spiled now; but he _will_ be ef, when
yer hev to drop him, yer don't do it kindly. An'--just one thing
more--the quicker he's out of his misery the better."
The old jail-bird screwed a tear out of his eye with a dirty knuckle,
and departed abruptly, leaving the little teacher just about ready to
cry herself.
But before she was quite ready, another knock startled her.
She opened the door, and let in Toledo himself.
"Good-evin', marm," said he, gravely. "I just come in to make my last
'fficial call, seein' I'm goin' away to-morrer. Ez there anything the
schoolhouse wants I ken git an' send from 'Frisco?"
"Going away!" ejaculated the teacher, heedless of the remainder of
Toledo's sentence.
"Yes, marm; goin' away fur good. Fact is, I've been tryin' to behave
myself lately, an' I find I need more company at it than I git about the
diggin's. I'm goin' some place whar I ken learn to be the gentleman I
feel like bein'--to be decent an' honest, an' useful, an' there ain't
anybody here that keers to help a feller that way--nobody."
The ancestor of the Browns of Middle Bethany was at Lexington on that
memorable morning in '75, and all of his promptness and his courage, ten
times multiplied, swelled the heart of his trembling little descendant,
as she faltered out:
"There's one."
"Who?" asked Toledo, before he could raise his eyes.
But though Miss Brown answered not a word, he did not repeat his
question, for such a rare crimson came into the little teacher's face,
that he hid it away in his breast, and acted as if he would never let it
out again.
Another knock at the door.
Toledo dropped into a chair, and Miss Brown, hastily smoothing back her
hair, opened the door, and again saw the judge.
"I jest dropped back to say--" commenced the judge, when his eye fell
upon Toledo.
He darted a quick glance at the teacher, comprehended the situation at
once, and with a loud shout of "Out of his misery, by thunder!" started
on a run to carry the news to the saloon.
* * * * *
Miss Brown completed her term, and then the minister, who was on the
local Board, was called in to formally make her tutor for life to a
larger pupil. Lecomte, with true French gallantry, insisted on being
groomsman, and the judge gave away the bride. The groom, who gave a name
very different from any ever heard at the Flat, placed on his bride's
finger a ring, inscribed within, "Made from gold washed by Huldah
Brown." The little teacher has increased the number of her pupils by
several, and her latest one calls her grandma.
[Illustration]
JIM HOCKSON'S REVENGE.
I.
"Ye don't say?"
"I do though."
"Wa'al, I never."
"Nuther did I--adzackly."
"Don't be provokin', Ephr'm--what makes you talk in that dou'fle way?"
"Wa'al, ma, the world hain't all squeezed into this yere little town of
Crankett. I've been elsewheres, some, an' I've seed some funny things,
and likewise some that wuzn't so funny ez they might be."
"P'r'aps ye hev, but ye needn't allus be a-settin' other folks down.
Mebbe Crankett ain't the whole world, but it's seed that awful case of
Molly Capins, and the shipwreck of thirty-four, when the awful
nor'easter wuz, an'--"
"Wa'al, wa'al, ma--don't let's fight 'bout it," said Ephr'm, with a
sigh, as he tenderly scraped down a new ax-helve with a piece of glass,
while his wife made the churn-dasher hurry up and down as if the
innocent cream was Ephr'm's back, and she was avenging thereon Ephr'm's
insults to Crankett and its people.
Deacon Ephraim Crankett was a descendant of the founder of the village,
and although now a sixty-year old farmer, he had in his lifetime seen
considerable of the world. He had been to the fishing-banks a dozen
times, been whaling twice, had carried a cargo of wheat up the
Mediterranean, and had been second officer of a ship which had picked
up a miscellaneous cargo in the heathen ports of Eastern Asia.
[Illustration: JIM HOCKSON'S REVENGE.--"HE HELD IT UNDER THE LIGHT, AND
EXAMINED IT CLOSELY."]
He had picked up a great many ideas, too, wherever he had been, and his
wife was immensely proud of him and them, whenever she could compare
them with the men and ideas which existed at Crankett; but when Ephr'm
displayed his memories and knowledge to her alone--oh, that was a very
different thing.
"Anyhow," resumed Mrs. Crankett, raising the lid of the churn to see if
there were any signs of butter, "it's an everlastin' shame. Jim
Hockson's a young feller in good standin' in the Church, an' Millie
Botayne's an unbeliever--they say her father's a reg'lar infidel."
"Easy, ma, easy," gently remonstrated Ephr'm. "When he seed you lookin'
at his pet rose-bush on yer way to church las' Sunday, didn't he hurry
an' pull two or three an' han' 'em to ye?"
"Yes, an' what did he hev' in t'other han'?--a Boasting paper, an' not a
Sunday one, nuther! Millicent ain't a Christian name, nohow ye can fix
it--it amounts to jest 'bout's much ez she does, an' that's nothing.
She's got a soft face, an' purty hair--ef it's all her own, which I
powerfully doubt--an' after that ther's nothin' to her. She's never been
to sewin' meetin', an' she's off a boatin' with that New York chap every
Saturday afternoon, instead of goin' to the young people's
prayer-meetin's."
"She's most supported Sam Ransom's wife an' young uns since Sam's smack
was lost," suggested Ephr'm.
"That's you, Deac'n Crankett," replied his wife, "always stick up for
sinners. P'r'aps you'd make better use of your time ef you'd examine yer
own evidences."
"Wa'al, wife," said the deacon, "she's engaged to that New York feller,
ez you call Mr. Brown, so there's no danger of Jim bein' onequally yoked
with an onbeliever. An' I wish her well, from the bottom of my heart."
"_I_ don't," cried Mrs. Crankett, giving the dasher a vicious push,
which sent the cream flying frantically up to the top of the churn; "I
hope he'll turn out bad, an' her pride'll be tuk down ez--"
The deacon had been long enough at sea to know the signs of a long
storm, and to know that prudence suggested a prompt sailing out of the
course of such a storm, when possible; so he started for the door,
carrying the glass and ax-helve with him. Suddenly the door opened, and
a female figure ran so violently against the ax-helve, that the said
figure was instantly tumbled to the floor, and seemed an irregular mass
of faded pink calico, and subdued plaid shawl.
"Miss Peekin!" exclaimed Mrs. Crankett, dropping the churn-dasher and
opening her eyes.
"Like to ha' not been," whined the figure, slowly arising and giving the
offending ax-helve a glance which would have set it on fire had it not
been of green hickory; "but--_hev_ you heerd?"
"What?" asked Mrs. Crankett, hastily setting a chair for the newcomer,
while Ephr'm, deacon and sixty though he was, paused in his almost
completed exit.
"_He's_ gone!" exclaimed Miss Peekin.
"Oh, I heerd Jim hed gone to Califor--"
"Pshaw!" said Miss Peekin, contemptuously; "that was days ago! I mean
Brown--the New York chap--Millie Botayne's lover!"
"Ye don't?"
"But I do; an' what's more, he _had_ to. Ther wuz men come after him in
the nighttime, but he must hev heard 'em, fur they didn't find him in
his room, an' this mornin' they found that his sailboat was gone, too.
An' what's more, ther's a printed notice up about him, an' he's a
defaulter, and there's five thousand dollars for whoever catches him,
an' he's stole _twenty-five_, an' he's all described in the notice, as
p'ticular as if he was a full-blood Alderney cow."
"Poor fellow," sighed the deacon, for which interruption he received a
withering glance from Miss Peekin.
"They say Millie's a goin' on awful, and that she sez she'll marry him
now if he'll come back. But it ain't likely he'll be such a fool; now
he's got so much money, he don't need hern. Reckon her an' her father
won't be so high an' mighty an' stuck up now. It's powerful discouragin'
to the righteous to see the ungodly flourishin' so, an' a-rollin' in
ther wealth, when ther betters has to be on needles all year fur fear
the next mack'ril catch won't 'mount to much. The idee of her bein'
willin' to marry a defaulter! I can't understand it."
"Poor girl!" sighed Mrs. Crankett, wiping one eye with the corner of her
apron. "I'd do it myself, ef I was her?"
The deacon dropped the ax-helve, and gave his wife a tender kiss on each
eye.
II.
Perhaps Mr. Darwin can tell inquirers why, out of very common origin,
there occasionally spring beings who are very decided improvements on
their progenitors; but we are only able to state that Jim Hockson was
one of these superior beings, and was himself fully aware of the fact.
Not that he was conceited at all, for he was not, but he could not help
seeing what every one else saw and acknowledged.
Every one liked him, for he was always kind in word and action, and
every one was glad to be Jim Hockson's friend; but somehow Jim seemed to
consider himself his best company.
His mackerel lines were worked as briskly as any others when the fish
were biting; but when the fish were gone, he would lean idly on the
rail, and stare at the waves and clouds; he could work a cranberry-bog
so beautifully that the people for miles around came to look on and take
lessons; yet, when the sun tried to hide in the evening behind a ragged
row of trees on a ridge beyond Jim's cranberry-patch, he would lean on
his spade, and gaze until everything about him seemed yellow.
He read the Bible incessantly, yet offended alike the pious saints and
critical sinners by never preaching or exhorting. And out of everything
Jim Hockson seemed to extract what it contained of the ideal and the
beautiful; and when he saw Millicent Botayne, he straightway adored the
first woman he had met who was alike beautiful, intelligent and refined.
Miss Millie, being human, was pleased by the admiration of the
handsome, manly fellow who seemed so far the superior of the men of his
class; but when, in his honest simplicity, he told her that he loved
her, she declined his further attentions in a manner which, though very
delicate and kind, opened Jim's blue eyes to some sad things he had
never seen before.
He neither got drunk, nor threatened to kill himself, nor married the
first silly girl he met; but he sensibly left the place where he had
suffered so greatly, and, in a sort of sad daze, he hurried off to hide
himself in the newly discovered gold-fields of California. Perhaps he
had suddenly learned certain properties of gold which were heretofore
unknown to him; at any rate, it was soon understood at Spanish Stake,
where he had located himself, that Jim Hockson got out more gold per
week than any man in camp, and that it all went to San Francisco.
"Kind of a mean cuss, I reckon," remarked a newcomer, one day at the
saloon, when Jim alone, of the crowd present, declined to drink with
him.
"Not any!" replied Colonel Two, so called because he had two eyes, while
another colonel in the camp had but one. "An' it's good for _you_,
stranger," continued the colonel, "that you ain't been long in camp,
else some of the boys 'ud put a hole through you for sayin' anything
'gainst Jim; for we all swear by him, _we_ do. He don't carry
shootin'-irons, but no feller in camp dares to tackle him; he don't cuss
nobody, but ev'rybody does just as he asks 'em to. As to drinkin', why,
I'd swear off myself, ef 'twud make me hold a candle to him. Went to old
Bermuda t'other day, when he was ravin' tight and layin' for Butcher
Pete with a shootin'-iron, an' he actilly talked Bermuda into soakin'
his head an' turnin' in--ev'rybody else was afeared to go nigh old
Bermuda that day."
The newcomer seemed gratified to learn that Jim was so peaceable a
man--that was the natural supposition, at least--for he forthwith
cultivated Jim with considerable assiduity, and being, it was evident, a
man of considerable taste and experience, Jim soon found his
companionship very agreeable and he lavished upon his new acquaintance,
who had been nicknamed Tarpaulin, the many kind and thoughtful
attentions which had endeared Jim to the other miners.
The two men lived in the same hut, staked claims adjoining each other,
and Tarpaulin, who had been thin and nervous-looking when he first came
to camp, began to grow peaceable and plump under Jim's influence.
One night, as Jim and Tarpaulin lay chatting before a fire in their hut,
they heard a thin, wiry voice in the next hut inquiring:
"Anybody in this camp look like this?"
Tarpaulin started.
"That's a funny question," said he; "let's see who and what the fellow
is."
And then Tarpaulin started for the next hut. Jim waited some time, and
hearing low voices in earnest conversation, went next door himself.
Tarpaulin was not there, but two small, thin, sharp-eyed men were there,
displaying an old-fashioned daguerreotype of a handsome-looking young
man, dressed in the latest New York style; and more than this Jim did
not notice.
"Don't know him, mister," said Colonel Two, who happened to be the owner
of the hut. "Besides ef, as is most likely, he's growed long hair an' a
beard since he left the States, his own mother wouldn't know him from
George Washington. Brother o' yourn?"
"No," said one of the thin men; "he's--well, the fact is, we'll give a
thousand dollars to any one who'll find him for us in twenty-four
hours."
"Deppity sheriffs?" asked the colonel, retiring somewhat hastily under
his blankets.
"About the same thing," said one of the thin men, with a sickly smile.
"Git!" roared the colonel, suddenly springing from his bed, and cocking
his revolver. "I b'lieve in the Golden Rule, _I_ do!"
The detectives, with the fine instinct peculiar to their profession,
rightly construed the colonel's action as a hint, and withdrew, and Jim
retired to his own hut, and fell asleep while waiting for his partner.
Morning came, but no Tarpaulin; dinner-time arrived, but Jim ate alone,
and was rather blue. He loved a sociable chat, and of late Tarpaulin had
been almost his sole companion.
Evening came, but Tarpaulin came not.
Jim couldn't abide the saloon for a whole evening, so he lit a candle in
his own hut, and attempted to read.
Tarpaulin was a lover of newspapers--it seemed to Jim he received more
papers than all the remaining miners put together.
Jim thought he would read some of these same papers, and unrolled
Tarpaulin's blankets to find them, when out fell a picture-case, opening
as it fell. Jim was about to close it again, when he suddenly started,
and exclaimed:
"Millicent Botayne!"
He held it under the light, and examined it closely.
There could be no doubt as to identity--there were the same exquisite
features which, a few months before, had opened to Jim Hockson a new
world of beauty, and had then, with a sweet yet sad smile, knocked down
all his fair castles, and destroyed all his exquisite pictures.
Strange that it should appear to him now, and so unexpectedly, but
stranger did it seem to Jim that on the opposite side of the case should
be a portrait which was a duplicate of the one shown by the detectives!
"That rascal Brown!" exclaimed Jim. "So he succeeded in getting her, did
he? But I shouldn't call him names; he had as much right to make love to
her as I. God grant he may make her happy! And he is probably a very
fine fellow--_must_ be, by his looks."
Suddenly Jim started, as if shocked by an electric battery. Hiding all
the hair and beard of the portrait, he stared at it a moment, and
exclaimed:
"_Tarpaulin_!"
III.
"Both gone!" exclaimed Colonel Two, hurrying into the saloon, at noon.
"_Both_ gone?" echoed two or three men.
"Yes," said the colonel; "and the queerest thing is, they left
ev'rything behind--every darned thing! I never _did_ see such a stampede
afore--I didn't! Nobody's got any idee of whar they be, nor what it's
'bout neither."
"Don't be _too_ sartain, colonel!" piped Weasel, a self-contained mite
of a fellow, who was still at work upon his glass, filled at the last
general treat, although every one else had finished so long ago that
they were growing thirsty again--"don't be _too_ sartain. Them
detectives bunked at my shanty last night."
"The deuce they did!" cried the colonel. "Good the rest of us didn't
know it."
"Well," said Weasel, moving his glass in graceful circles, to be sure
that all the sugar dissolved, "I dunno. It's a respectable business, an'
I wanted to have a good look at 'em."
"What's that got to do with Jim and Tarpaulin?" demanded the colonel,
fiercely.
"Wait, and I'll tell you," replied Weasel, provokingly, taking a
leisurely sip at his glass. "Jim come down to see 'em--"
"What?" cried the colonel.
"An' told 'em he knew their man, an' would help find him," continued
Weasel. "They offered him the thousand dollars--"
"Oh, Lord! oh, Lord!" groaned the colonel; "who's a feller to trust in
this world! The idee of Jim goin' back on a pardner fur a thousand! I
wouldn't hev b'lieved he'd a-done it fur a million!"
"An' he told 'em he'd cram it down their throats if they mentioned it
again."
"Bully! Hooray fur Jim!" shouted the colonel. "What'll yer take,
fellers? Fill high! Here's to Jim! the feller that b'lieves his friend's
innercent!"
The colonel looked thoughtfully into his glass, and remarked, as if to
his own reflection therein, "Ain't many such men here nur nowhars else!"
after which he drank the toast himself.
"But that don't explain what Tarpaulin went fur," said the colonel,
suddenly.
"Yes, it does," said the exasperating Weasel, shutting his thin lips so
tightly that it was hard to see where his mouth was.
"What?" cried the colonel. "'Twould take a four-horse corkscrew to get
anything out o' you, you dried-up little scoundrel!"
"Why!" replied Weasel, greatly pleased by the colonel's compliment,
"after what you said about hair and beard hidin' a man, one of them
fellers cut a card an' held it over the picture, so as to hide hair an'
chin. The forehead an' face an' nose an' ears wuz Tarpaulin's, an'
nobody else's."
"Lightning's blazes!" roared the colonel, "Ha, ha, ha! why, Tarpaulin
hisself came into my shanty, an' looked at the pictur', an' talked to
them 'bout it! Trot out yer glassware, barkeeper--_got_ to drink to a
feller that's ez cool ez all that!"
The boys drank with the colonel, but they were too severely astonished
to enjoy the liquor particularly. In fact, old Bermuda, who had never
taken anything but plain rye, drank three fingers of claret that day,
and did not know of it until told.
The colonel's mind was unusually excited. It seemed to him there were a
number of probabilities upon which to hang bets. He walked outside, that
his meditation might be undisturbed, but in an instant he was back,
crying:
"Lady comin'!"
Shirt-sleeves and trowsers-legs were hurriedly rolled down,
shirt-collars were buttoned, hats were dusted, and then each man went
leisurely out, with the air of having merely happened to leave the
saloon--an air which imposed upon no disinterested observer.
Coming up the trail beside the creek were a middle-aged gentleman and a
young lady, both on horseback.