Gold Part 24

"I reckon we'll eject them if we say 'eject'!" cried some one truculently; and several others growled a.s.sent.

Jim cast a humorous eye in that direction.

"Oh, I reckon I'm ekal to the job," said he, "and if you say 'eject'

again, why out they go. Only when I looked that outfit over, and saw they was only two of them and six of these jabbering keskydees, why, I jest nat'rally wondered whether it was by and according to the peace and dignity of this camp to mix up in that kind of a muss. I should think they ought to be capable of doin' their own ejecting."

A discussion arose on this point. The sentiment seemed unanimous that the Frenchmen ought to have been able to protect themselves, but was divided on the opinion as to how far the camp was now committed to action.

"They'll think they've bluffed us out, if we drop her now," argued one side.

"It ought not to be the policy of this camp to mix up with private quarrels," argued the other.

John Semple decided the question.

"It looks like we're in the hole," he admitted, "and have got to do something. Now, I tell you what I'm going to do: I'm going to have Jim here give these keskydees blank warrants that they can serve themselves, and to suit themselves."

This ingenious solution was very highly commended.

"Unless somebody else has something to bring up, I guess that's about all," announced Semple.

"No inquests?" some one asked.

"Nary an inquest. This camp is gettin' healthy. Adjourned!" And the meeting was brought to a formal conclusion by a tap of the pistol on the empty barrel.

CHAPTER XIX

SUNDAY AT HANGMAN'S GULCH

It was now about four o'clock. The crowd dispersed slowly in different directions, and to its different occupations and amus.e.m.e.nts. We wandered about, all eyes and ears. As yet we had not many acquaintances, and could not enter into the intimate bantering life of the old-timers.

There was enough to interest us, however. A good many were beginning to show the drink. After a long period of hard labour even the most respectable of the miners would have at times strange reactions. That is another tale, however; and on this Sunday the drinking was productive only of considerable noise and boasting. Two old codgers, head to head, were bragging laboriously of their prowess as cooks. A small but interested group egged them on.

"Flapjacks?" enunciated one laboriously; "flapjacks? Why, my fren', _you_ don't know nothin' about flapjacks. I grant you," said he, laying one hand on the other's arm, "I grant ye that maybe, _maybe_, mind you, you may know about mixin' flapjacks, and even about cookin' flapjacks. But wha' do you know about _flippin'

flapjacks_?" He removed his hand from the other's arm. "Nawthin!"

said he. "Now _I_ am an exper'; a real exper'! When I want to flip a flapjack I just whirl her up through the chimney and catch her by holdin' the frying pan out'n the window!"

I found at another point a slender, beardless young chap, with bright black eyes, and hectic cheeks, engaged in sketching one of the miners who posed before him. His touch was swift and sure, and his faculty at catching a likeness remarkable. The sketch was completed and paid for in ten minutes; and he was immediately besieged by offers from men who wanted pictures of themselves or their camps. He told me, between strokes of the pencil, that he found this sort of thing more remunerative than the mining for which he had come to the country, as he could not stand the necessary hard work. Paper cost him two dollars and a half a sheet; but that was about all his expense. Alongside the street a very red-faced, bulbous-nosed and ancient ruin with a patriarchal white beard was preparing to give phrenological readings. I had seen him earlier in the day, and had been amused at his impressive glib patter.

Now, however, he had become foolishly drunk. He mounted the same boxes that had served as the executive desk, and invited custom. After a moment's hesitation a burly, red-faced miner shouldered his way through the group and sat down on the edge of the boxes.

In the earlier and soberer part of the afternoon the phrenologist had skilfully steered his way by the safe stars of flattery. Now, as he ran his hands uncertainly through the miner's thick hair, a look of mystification crept into his bleary eyes. He felt again more carefully.

"Most 'xtraor'nary!" he muttered. "Fren's," said he, still feeling at the man's head, "this person has the most extraor'nary b.u.mp of 'quisitiveness. Never felt one like it, 'xcept on th' cranium of a very celebrated thief an' robber. His b.u.mp of benev'lence 's a reg'lar hole.

b.u.mp of truthfulness don' somehow seem to be there at all. b.u.mp of cowardice is 's big 's an egg. This man, fren's," said he, dropping the victim's head and advancing impressively, "is a very dangerous character. Look out for 'm. He's a liar, an' a thief, an' a coward, an'

a----"

"Well, you old son of a gun!" howled the miner, rising to his feet.

He seized the aged phrenologist, and flung him bodily straight through the sides of a large tent, and immediately dove after him in pursuit.

There came from that tent a series of crashes, howls of rage and joy, the sounds of violent scuffling, and then there burst out through the doorway the thoroughly sobered phrenologist, his white beard streaming over one shoulder, his pop eyes bulging out, his bulbous nose quite purple, pursued by the angry miner and a score of the overjoyed populace interrupted in their gambling. Everybody but the two princ.i.p.als was gasping with laughter. It looked as though the miner might do his victim a serious injury, so I caught the pursuer, around the shoulders and held him fast. He struggled violently, but was no match for my bulk, and I restrained him until he had cooled down somewhat, and had ceased trying to bite and kick me. Then all at once he laughed, and I released him. Of the phrenologist nothing remained but a thin cloud of dust hanging in the still air.

Yank and I then thought of going back to camp, and began to look around after Johnny, who had disappeared, when McNally rolled up, inviting us to sup with him.

"You don't want to go home yet," he advised us. "Evening's the time to have fun. Never mind your friend; he's all right. Now you realize the disadvantage of living way off where you do. My hang-out is just down the street. Let's have a drink."

We accepted both his invitations. Then, after the supper, pipes alight, we sauntered down the street, a vast leisure expanding our horizons. At the street corner stood a tall, poetic-looking man, with dreamer's eyes, a violin clasped under his chin. He was looking straight past us all out into the dusk of the piney mountains beyond, his soul in the music he was producing. They were simple melodies, full of sentiment, and he played as though he loved them. Within the sound of his bow a dead silence reigned. Men stood with eyes cast down, their faces sobered, their eyes adream. One burly, reckless, red-faced individual, who had been bullying it up and down the street, broke into a sob which he violently suppressed, and then looked about fiercely, as though challenging any one to have heard. The player finished, tucked his violin and bow under his arm, and turned away. For a moment the crowd remained motionless, then slowly dispersed. This was John Kelly, a famous wandering minstrel of the camps, a strange, shy, poetic man, who never lacked for dust nor for friends, and who apparently sought for neither.

Under the softening influence of the music the crowd led a better life for about ten minutes.

We entered the gambling rooms, of which there were two, and had a drink of what McNally called "42 calibre whiskey" at the bar of each. In one of them we found Johnny, rather flushed, bucking a faro bank. Yank suggested that he join us, but he shook his head impatiently, and we moved on. In a tremendous tent made by joining three or four ordinary tents together, a very lively fiddle and concertina were in full blast.

We entered and were pounced upon by a boisterous group of laughing men, seized by the shoulders, whirled about, and examined from behind.

"Two gentlemen and a lady!" roared out one of them. "Gentlemen on that side; ladies on this. See-lect your pardners for the waltz!"

There was a great rushing to and fro in preparation. Men bowed to each other with burlesque dancing school formality, offered arms, or accepted them with bearlike coyness. We stood for a moment rather bewildered, not knowing precisely what to do.

"You belong over that side," McNally instructed us. "I go over here; I'm a 'lady.'"

"Why?" I asked.

"Ladies," explained McNally, "are those who have patches on the seats of their pants."

As in most social gatherings, we saw that here too the fair s.e.x were in the majority.

Everybody danced very vigorously, with a tremendous amount of stamping.

It seemed a strenuous occupation after a week of hard work, and yet it was great fun. Yank pirouetted and balanced and "sa.s.shayed" and tom-fooled in a manner wonderful to behold. We ended flushed and uproarious; and all trooped to the bar, which, it seemed, was the real reason for the existence of this dance hall.

The crowd was rough and good natured, full of high spirits, and inclined to practical jokes of a pretty stiff character. Of course there was the inevitable bully, swaggering fiercely and truculently back and forth, his belt full of weapons. n.o.body took him very seriously; but, on the other hand, everybody seemed to take mighty good care not to run definitely counter to him. In the course of his wanderings he came to our end of the bar, and jostled McNally aside. McNally was at the moment lighting his pipe, so that in his one hand he held a burning match and in the other a gla.s.s of whiskey. Without the slightest hurry or excitement, his blue eyes twinkling as humorously as ever, McNally dumped the whiskey over the bully's shock head with his left hand and touched the match to it with his right. The alcohol sizzled up in a momentary blue flame, without damage save for a very singed head of hair.

"Man on fire! Man on fire!" yelled McNally. "Put him out!"

The miners rose to the occasion joyously, and "put him out" in the most literal fashion; so that no more was seen of that bully.

About ten o'clock we were getting tired; and probably the reaction from the "42 calibre whiskey" was making us drowsy. We hunted up Johnny, still at his faro game; but he positively and impatiently declined to accompany us. He said he was ahead--or behind--I forget which. I notice both conditions have the same effect of keeping a man from quitting. We therefore left him, and wandered home through the soft night, wherein were twinkling stars, gentle breezes, little voices, and the silhouettes of great trees.

CHAPTER XX

THE GOLD WASHERS

Johnny did not return at all that night, but showed up next morning at the diggings, looking blear-eyed and sleepy. He told us he had slept with a friend, and replied rather curtly that he was a "little behind the game." I believe myself that he was cleaned out; but that was none of our business. Every night we divided the dust into five parts. Don Gaspar and Vasquez got two of these. The remainder we again divided into four. I took charge of Talbot's share. We carried the dust always with us; for the camp was no longer safe from thieves.

In order to effect this division we had to have some sort of scales. I went up to the single store to see what I could do. The storekeeper was a drawling, slow, down-east Yankee, perpetually chewing a long sliver or straw, talking exclusively through his nose, keen for a bargain, grasping of the last cent in a trade, and yet singularly interesting and agreeable. His sense of dry humour had a good deal to do with this. He had no gold scales to lend or to hire, but he had some to sell. The price was fifteen dollars for an ordinary pair of balances worth not over a dollar and a half.