Forty-one Thieves Part 9

Treasure like this would tempt his lawless neighbors. He wanted no such rogues round as they had at Angels Camp, Calaveras County, where, according to his last copy of "The California Democrat," the post-office had been robbed of a thousand dollars, including one hundred dollars'

worth of postage stamps. Postage stamps! He laughed to think to what straits thieves had come in Calaveras County.

Then he thought of his own hard-earned treasures, safely locked up in the Hibernia Bank of San Francisco and with D. O. Mills of Sacramento.

Some day kindred back in Connecticut would have cause to praise his frugality and self-denial. Sometimes he thought of his blasted romance and of the poor woman in San Francisco who scrubbed floors for an honest living. Ah, well, life is hard. His own years of toil were nearly over, as he knew by unmistakable signs. Perhaps this rich clean-up would be his last. And so it was; though nearly two years elapsed before a merciful Providence released the old man from this world where thieves break through and steal the fruits of our labors.

The Woolsey boys, young men now, with the strength of the hills in bone and muscle, were the old man's chief reliance. They could see that he was failing, and felt sincerely sorry. They noted with what grim determination he stuck to his work. The tenacity inherited from a hundred generations of strong men, farmers, sea-kings, warriors, nerved his old arms and kept strong the will within him.

One day about the first of August, in the early afternoon when the sun is hottest, they found the old man within doors, washing dishes.

"Sit down, Mr. Palmer," said John, the older of the boys, "and we will do the dishes for you."

"Well, boys, go ahead. I know what famous pot-wrastlers ye be. I can't compete with you." And he gladly sat down, to examine a legal doc.u.ment the boys had brought him. For one Dupre, who had a rough farm at the bottom of the canon and sold the old man vegetables, had sued him for damages, because the dirt washed down from Palmer's diggings had covered up a few square rods of gra.s.s land. The damage was slight, but the Frenchman was thrifty, and had sued for a round sum. Palmer was quite willing to pay actual damages, but he had refused to be robbed. A compromise had finally been made, and Dupre agreed to withdraw his suit upon the payment of fifty dollars. To this contract the old man now affixed his signature, in a very shaky hand.

"There, I'm glad that's settled," said he. And a moment later he had fallen out of his chair upon the floor.

Miner's paralysis! Even the Woolsey boys knew the symptoms. They lifted the old man up and put him on his bed, gave him whiskey, and then consulted as to their next duty. They could not leave him there alone upon the mountain-top; nor was it an easy matter to descend to the bottom of the canon for help.

"You stay here, Charley," said John, "and I'll go for Dr. Mason."

"That won't do, Jack. It will be five o'clock before you can cross the canon, and dark by the time you reach North Bloomfield. Alleghany City is the place to strike for. Get Dr. Lefevre over there. They say he can cure paralysis if any man can."

"It's no easy trip to Alleghany, either," said John thoughtfully. "The canon of Wolf Creek is as bad as the canon of the Middle Yuba. And there's Kanaka Creek beyond."

"Then again, whichever way you go," responded his brother, "you ain't sure of finding the doctor. Better take the old man with us and make for Alleghany, I guess."

This seemed the most feasible plan. So they saddled Palmer's sure-footed horse, put his sick master into the saddle, and started down the trail across the canon of Wolf Creek. It was a long, hard trip. To the Woolsey boys, holding and steadying the old man, the canon had never seemed so deep. At last they reached the Plumbago Mine, on the opposite height, where they borrowed two mules to carry them the rest of the way. It was easy going now as far as Chipp's Flat. Late in the evening they climbed the steep trail from Kanaka Creek to Alleghany City, took their charge to the hotel, and hunted up Dr. Lefevre.

So began a long, hard sickness, the first serious sickness Robert Palmer had suffered since his arrival in the gold fields. For days he lay helpless. As soon as he was sufficiently recovered to take notice of his surroundings, he begged to be moved from the noisy hotel, with its sickening smells, to the cabin of an old friend named Lee, who lived some distance from the main street.

There are not more than half a dozen streets in Alleghany City, the princ.i.p.al one being the road along the mountain-side, which, leaving the village, climbs up over an ancient stream of lava, and crossing the summit of the mountain plunges down to Forest City. Dr. Lefevre was the only doctor in the two "cities," and spent much of his time crossing the high ridge that separates the two. He often wished that the miners, in pursuit of gold-bearing gravel, had dug a pa.s.sage-way through the ridge, as they had done on the opposite side of Kanaka Creek, where there was a tunnel from Chipp's Flat to Minnesota. But on this side of the creek they mined for quartz. However, the miners were good patients, and some day the doctor hoped to return to France with the gold his skill had earned him.

With a Frenchman's zeal for science and thoroughness, he was a most excellent physician. By the first of October, Robert Palmer was cured.

To the doctor it seemed almost a miracle; and he cautioned the old miner kindly:

"Mr. Palmer, one can never tell about this malady. To-day you are well, thanks to your remarkable const.i.tution and a Frenchman's art. Next month, perhaps"--and he shrugged his shoulders.

"If you have any business matters to settle, monsieur, any affair of the heart, any will to make, you had better attend to such things while the good Lord gives you strength."

Robert Palmer heeded this advice; and so, a few days after, when he had returned to his house on Fillmore Hill, he wrote the following remarkable doc.u.ment:

"Fillmore Hill, Oct. 12, 1880.

"I, Robert Palmer, the undersigned, of sound mind, declare this to be my last will and testament. After my death it is my will that after all just, honest debts and expenses are paid, if there is any property left that it shall be divided equally between my nieces and nephews: that is, each one shall receive an equal share; and it is also my will that should a majority of my nieces believe money or other property placed in the hands of any of their number would not be used properly the others shall hold such money or property and pay it to the owner at such times and in such amounts as they may think best: and it is also my will that the same plan shall be adopted and carried out with regard to my nephews as I have named above for my nieces, except my nephews shall hold the property.

"Now then be it known that I hereby appoint as my administrators or executors, to execute and carry out the above my will, the following named persons, (to wit), John Hintzen of Forest City, Sierra County; John Haggerty of Moore's Flat, Nevada County, and Henry Francis of Moore's Flat, Nevada County: also James B. Francis of Reedsville, Mifflin County, Pennsylvania; to act without bonds, and also to act without the interference of any court of law or any Public Administrator whatever; to act at all times and under all circ.u.mstances to the best of their judgment in settling my affairs: if they have patience they may hear any pleas my relations have to offer, but I wish them in the end to stand firm and resolute on their own judgment, and take time to settle the concern whether it need one year or twenty years.

"And furthermore it is my will that if the above named persons cannot act conveniently then if two or more act they shall have the same power as if all acted; but if only two act they shall both agree on all the matters, but if more act then the majority may rule.

"Robert Palmer." Oct. 12, 1880.

Only one who knows the spirit of early California can understand this doc.u.ment. Its beginning is modest: "if there is any property left." What amount was the old man about to distribute? He was too cautious to mention it; and when his friend John Hintzen of Forest City, in whose safe the will was deposited, wrote asking for a list of the property, the old man parried the question.

Another curious feature of this doc.u.ment is that the old man chose two executors. He did not care to trust any one friend too far, apparently.

Robert Palmer, Democrat, paid his respects to courts and lawyers. His executors were "to act without bonds, and also to act without interference of any court of law or any Public Administrator whatever."

He might better have trusted the courts, as we shall see, for his friends failed him. After thirty years the executors all died; and to this day the will of Robert Palmer is an unsolved mystery.

CHAPTER XIII

The End of the Trail

The gold that with the sunlight lies In bursting heaps at dawn, The silver spilling from the skies At night to walk upon, The diamonds gleaming in the dew He never saw, he never knew.

He got some gold, dug from the mud, Some silver, crushed from stones, The gold was red with dead men's blood, The silver black with groans; And when he died he moaned aloud, "There'll be no pocket in my shroud."

Joaquin Miller.

John Keeler, returned from his travels, became Palmer's trusted messenger to Hintzen, to whom the old man sent a copy of his will.

Keeler was provided with another copy to deposit at the court-house in Downieville, county seat of Sierra County. For although Robert Palmer disliked courts and lawyers, he deemed it wise to file a copy of his will at the court-house. This he could do without telling Hintzen, so he instructed Keeler, after having seen that gentleman at Forest City, to continue over the mountains to Downieville, as if on private business.

Honest John Keeler, after a year spent in tracking criminals, had little liking for this new mission. It seemed as if his old friend thought all men rogues. Such a sweeping condemnation would include himself, and he resented the insinuation. However, the old man was still feeble. So Keeler set out on foot across the mountains.

It had been some time since he had been as far as Chipp's Flat. There he sought out the old cannon, long since dismounted, and sitting down upon it he thought of the changes wrought in that neighborhood within his recollection. In Civil War times, eighteen years before, miners of Chipp's Flat and vicinity had enlisted in the Union Army. There had been a full company of a hundred men, and the cannon had been a part of their equipment. But the cannon had not left that California mountain-side; and the soldiers themselves had got no further East than Arizona, for in those days there was no transcontinental railroad. Now that there was one, Chipp's Flat had no need of it. Save for two or three scattered houses the mining town had disappeared. The mountain ridge had been mined through from Minnesota, and now that the gold-bearing gravel had been exhausted, Chipp's Flat, except in name, had gone out of existence.

The next thing of interest was the dirty blue water of Kanaka Creek, and the clatter of the stamping mills on the other side of it; for Keeler was not much used to quartz mining. The name "quartz mining" seemed misleading, for the wash from the crushed rock was distinctly blue. It was evident that these quartz mines were paying well, as Alleghany had every appearance of a live mining town. Keeler stopped at the hotel there for dinner. It seemed strange that intelligent men should so lose their heads. Great quant.i.ties of liquor were being consumed at the hotel bar, poker games were in full blast, and there was a cemetery handy.

Keeler was glad to leave Alleghany to climb over the mountain ridge to Forest City. Now to the eastward the lofty peaks of the Sierras hove into view, dwarfing the mountain ridges of the gold fields. He paused to inspect the ancient stream of lava which crossed his path, and considered once more those convulsions of the earth which had thrown the ancient river beds to the hill-tops, and of which California earthquakes are a constant reminder.

Arrived at the summit of the ridge, he looked down upon Forest City, a straggling village in a barren valley denuded of forests. Church, school, and cemetery gave the place an air of permanence; but some day it might disappear, like Chipp's Flat. It lay almost beneath him, so steep was the road down the mountain. Beyond, up the bare valley of a mountain stream, lay the trail to Downieville, nine miles away. His mission to Hintzen performed, he would spend the night at Forest City, and push on to Downieville the next morning.

Hintzen kept the general store at Forest City, a business more certain and profitable than gold-mining; and having a reputation for strict honesty, he had become a sort of agent and business manager for the miners. He was one of the few men Robert Palmer trusted; therefore he received the doc.u.ment from Keeler's hand without surprise. But he could not repress a smile at the testator's extreme caution and resolved forthwith to ask for a list of his friend's securities.

"How is the old man now?" he asked.

"Mr. Palmer has had a close call," replied Keeler. "But he is good for a couple of years yet, I reckon."

"Sit down, Keeler, while I write him a note. You'll find a whiskey toddy up there at the end of the counter.--Beg your pardon. Forgot your temperance principles. There's fresh spring water in that bucket."

Next morning Keeler pushed on up the ascending valley of the mountain torrent. The horns of a wild sheep by the wayside reminded him of earlier days when game was plentiful. The only wild creatures along the trail to-day were rattlesnakes. With these he was well acquainted. But it did give him a start to find one twined about a branch of a bush.

An hour's steady climbing brought him to the top of the watershed between the North and the Middle Yuba. Here a scene of wild grandeur lay before him. Bare crags on either hand guarded the pa.s.s over the divide.

Immediately in front lay a whole system of deep canons, clothed with primeval forests, wild and forbidding. Beyond towered a chain of rough, bare mountain peaks. Keeler paused to wonder anew at the vastness of the Sierras.

Then he plunged down from the ridge and was soon traversing one of the most lonesome and gloomy trails in all the mountains. The tree trunks were covered with yellowish green moss. In one place stood a pine stump fifty feet high with the upper hundred feet of the tree thrust into the earth beside it. At another place a huge log blocked the trail. Then he crossed a brook and was among chaparral and manzanita bushes. Then he was among the pines again, listening to their voices, for a breeze was blowing up the canon. Now he came to a spooky region which had been swept by fire, with bare tree trunks, broken and going to decay, standing like ghosts of the forest. Beyond was a clump of young firs with gray stems, so straight and perfect as to be almost uncanny. Or was it the traveler's overwrought imagination?