Once during the meal we heard a noise like the rubbing of a heavy bodyagainst the outer walls of the house. This was shortly followed by ascratching and sniffling at the door. "That's Joaquin," said Miggles, inreply to our questioning glances; "would you like to see him?" Beforewe could answer she had opened the door, and disclosed a half-growngrizzly, who instantly raised himself on his haunches, with his forepaws hanging down in the popular attitude of mendicancy, and lookedadmiringly at Miggles, with a very singular resemblance in his manner toYuba Bill. "That's my watch-dog," said Miggles, in explanation. "Oh,he don't bite," she added, as the two lady passengers fluttered intoa corner. "Does he, old Toppy?" (the latter remark being addresseddirectly to the sagacious Joaquin). "I tell you what, boys," continuedMiggles, after she had fed and closed the door on Ursa Minor, "youwere in big luck that Joaquin wasn't hanging round when you dropped into-night."
"Where was he?" asked the Judge.
"With me," said Miggles. "Lord love you! he trots round with me nightslike as if he was a man."
We were silent for a few moments, and listened to the wind. Perhapswe all had the same picture before us,--of Miggles walking through therainy woods with her savage guardian at her side. The Judge, I remember,said something about Una and her lion; but Miggles received it, as shedid other compliments, with quiet gravity. Whether she was altogetherunconscious of the admiration she excited,--she could hardly have beenoblivious of Yuba Bill's adoration,--I know not; but her very franknesssuggested a perfect sexual equality that was cruelly humiliating to theyounger members of our party.
The incident of the bear did not add anything in Miggles's favor to theopinions of those of her own sex who were present. In fact, the repastover, a chillness radiated from the two lady passengers that no pineboughs brought in by Yuba Bill and cast as a sacrifice upon the hearthcould wholly overcome. Miggles felt it; and suddenly declaring that itwas time to "turn in," offered to show the ladies to their bed in anadjoining room. "You, boys, will have to camp out here by the fire aswell as you can," she added, "for thar ain't but the one room."
Our sex--by which, my dear sir, I allude of course to the strongerportion of humanity--has been generally relieved from the imputation ofcuriosity or a fondness for gossip. Yet I am constrained to say,that hardly had the door closed on Miggles than we crowded together,whispering, snickering, smiling, and exchanging suspicions, surmises,and a thousand speculations in regard to our pretty hostess and hersingular companion. I fear that we even hustled that imbecile paralytic,who sat like a voiceless Memnon in our midst, gazing with the sereneindifference of the Past in his passionless eyes upon our wordycounsels. In the midst of an exciting discussion the door opened againand Miggles reentered.
But not, apparently, the same Miggles who a few hours before had flashedupon us. Her eyes were downcast, and as she hesitated for a moment onthe threshold, with a blanket on her arm, she seemed to have left behindher the frank fearlessness which had charmed us a moment before. Cominginto the room, she drew a low stool beside the paralytic's chair, satdown, drew the blanket over her shoulders, and saying, "If it's all thesame to you, boys, as we're rather crowded, I'll stop here to-night,"took the invalid's withered hand in her own, and turned her eyes uponthe dying fire. An instinctive feeling that this was only premonitoryto more confidential relations, and perhaps some shame at our previouscuriosity, kept us silent. The rain still heat upon the roof, wanderinggusts of wind stirred the embers into momentary brightness, until, in alull of the elements, Miggles suddenly lifted up her head, and, throwingher hair over her shoulder, turned her face upon the group and asked,--
"Is there any of you that knows me?"
There was no reply.
"Think again! I lived at Marysville in '53. Everybody knew me there, andeverybody had the right to know me. I kept the Polka Saloon until I cameto live with Jim. That's six years ago. Perhaps I've changed some."
The absence of recognition may have disconcerted her. She turned herhead to the fire again, and it was some seconds before she again spoke,and then more rapidly--
"Well, you see I thought some of you must have known me. There's nogreat harm done anyway. What I was going to say was this: Jim here"--shetook his hand in both of hers as she spoke--"used to know me, if youdidn't, and spent a heap of money upon me. I reckon he spent all he had.And one day--it's six years ago this winter--Jim came into my back room,sat down on my sofy, like as you see him in that chair, and never movedagain without help. He was struck all of a heap, and never seemed toknow what ailed him. The doctors came and said as how it was caused allalong of his way of life,--for Jim was mighty free and wild-like,--andthat he would never get better, and couldn't last long anyway. Theyadvised me to send him to Frisco to the hospital, for he was no good toany one and would be a baby all his life. Perhaps it was something inJim's eye, perhaps it was that I never had a baby, but I said 'No.'I was rich then, for I was popular with everybody,--gentlemen likeyourself, sir, came to see me,--and I sold out my business and boughtthis yer place, because it was sort of out of the way of travel, yousee, and I brought my baby here."
With a woman's intuitive tact and poetry, she had, as she spoke, slowlyshifted her position so as to bring the mute figure of the ruined manbetween her and her audience, hiding in the shadow behind it, as ifshe offered it as a tacit apology for her actions. Silent andexpressionless, it yet spoke for her; helpless, crushed, and smittenwith the Divine thunderbolt, it still stretched an invisible arm aroundher.
Hidden in the darkness, but still holding his hand, she went on:--
"It was a long time before I could get the hang of things about yer, forI was used to company and excitement. I couldn't get any woman to helpme, and a man I dursn't trust; but what with the Indians hereabout,who'd do odd jobs for me, and having everything sent from the NorthFork, Jim and I managed to worry through. The Doctor would run up fromSacramento once in a while. He'd ask to see 'Miggles's baby' ashe called Jim, and when he'd go away, he'd say, 'Miggles, you're atrump,--God bless you,' and it didn't seem so lonely after that. Butthe last time he was here he said, as he opened the door to go, 'Do youknow, Miggles, your baby will grow up to be a man yet and an honor tohis mother; but not here, Miggles, not here!' And I thought he went awaysad,--and--and"--and here Miggles's voice and head were somehow bothlost completely in the shadow.
"The folks about here are very kind," said Miggles, after a pause,coming a little into the light again. "The men from the Fork used tohang around here, until they found they wasn't wanted, and the women arekind, and don't call. I was pretty lonely until I picked up Joaquin inthe woods yonder one day, when he wasn't so high, and taught him to begfor his dinner; and then thar's Polly--that's the magpie--she knows noend of tricks, and makes it quite sociable of evenings with her talk,and so I don't feel like as I was the only living being about the ranch.And Jim here," said Miggles, with her old laugh again, and coming outquite into the firelight,--"Jim--Why, boys, you would admire to see howmuch he knows for a man like him. Sometimes I bring him flowers, and helooks at 'em just as natural as if he knew 'em; and times, when we'resitting alone, I read him those things on the wall. Why, Lord!" saidMiggles, with her frank laugh, "I've read him that whole side of thehouse this winter. There never was such a man for reading as Jim."
"Why," asked the Judge, "do you not marry this man to whom you havedevoted your youthful life?"
"Well, you see," said Miggles, "it would be playing it rather low downon Jim to take advantage of his being so helpless. And then, too, if wewere man and wife, now, we'd both know that I was _bound_ to do what Ido now of my own accord."
"But you are young yet and attractive"--
"It's getting late," said Miggles gravely, "and you'd better all turnin. Good-night, boys;" and throwing the blanket over her head, Miggleslaid herself down beside Jim's chair, her head pillowed on the low stoolthat held his feet, and spoke no more. The fire slowly faded from thehearth; we each sought our blankets in silence; and presently there wasno sound in the l
ong room but the pattering of the rain upon the roofand the heavy breathing of the sleepers.
It was nearly morning when I awoke from a troubled dream. The storm hadpassed, the stars were shining, and through the shutterless window thefull moon, lifting itself over the solemn pines without, looked intothe room. It touched the lonely figure in the chair with an infinitecompassion, and seemed to baptize with a shining flood the lowly head ofthe woman whose hair, as in the sweet old story, bathed the feet of himshe loved. It even lent a kindly poetry to the rugged outline of YubaBill, half reclining on his elbow between them and his passengers, withsavagely patient eyes keeping watch and ward. And then I fell asleepand only woke at broad day, with Yuba Bill standing over me, and "Allaboard" ringing in my ears.
Coffee was waiting for us on the table, but Miggles was gone. Wewandered about the house and lingered long after the horses wereharnessed, but she did not return. It was evident that she wished toavoid a formal leave-taking, and had so left us to depart as we hadcome. After we had helped the ladies into the coach, we returned tothe house and solemnly shook hands with the paralytic Jim, as solemnlysetting him back into position after each handshake. Then we looked forthe last time around the long low room, at the stool where Miggles hadsat, and slowly took our seats in the waiting coach. The whip cracked,and we were off!
But as we reached the highroad, Bill's dexterous hand laid the sixhorses back on their haunches, and the stage stopped with a jerk. Forthere, on a little eminence beside the road, stood Miggles, her hairflying, her eyes sparkling, her white handkerchief waving, and her whiteteeth flashing a last "good-by." We waved our hats in return. And thenYuba Bill, as if fearful of further fascination, madly lashed his horsesforward, and we sank back in our seats.
We exchanged not a word until we reached the North Fork and the stagedrew up at the Independence House. Then, the Judge leading, we walkedinto the bar-room and took our places gravely at the bar.
"Are your glasses charged, gentlemen?" said the Judge, solemnly takingoff his white hat.
They were.
"Well, then, here's to _Miggles_--GOD BLESS HER!"
Perhaps He had. Who knows?
TENNESSEE'S PARTNER
I do not think that we ever knew his real name. Our ignorance of itcertainly never gave us any social inconvenience, for at Sandy Bar in1854 most men were christened anew. Sometimes these appellatives werederived from some distinctiveness of dress, as in the case of "DungareeJack;" or from some peculiarity of habit, as shown in "Saleratus Bill,"so called from an undue proportion of that chemical in his daily bread;or from some unlucky slip, as exhibited in "The Iron Pirate," a mild,inoffensive man, who earned that baleful title by his unfortunatemispronunciation of the term "iron pyrites." Perhaps this may have beenthe beginning of a rude heraldry; but I am constrained to think thatit was because a man's real name in that day rested solely upon his ownunsupported statement. "Call yourself Clifford, do you?" said Boston,addressing a timid newcomer with infinite scorn; "hell is full of suchCliffords!" He then introduced the unfortunate man, whose name happenedto be really Clifford, as "Jaybird Charley,"--an unhallowed inspirationof the moment that clung to him ever after.
But to return to Tennessee's Partner, whom we never knew by any otherthan this relative title. That he had ever existed as a separate anddistinct individuality we only learned later. It seems that in 1853 heleft Poker Flat to go to San Francisco, ostensibly to procure a wife. Henever got any farther than Stockton. At that place he was attracted bya young person who waited upon the table at the hotel where he took hismeals. One morning he said something to her which caused her to smilenot unkindly, to somewhat coquettishly break a plate of toast overhis upturned, serious, simple face, and to retreat to the kitchen. Hefollowed her, and emerged a few moments later, covered with more toastand victory. That day week they were married by a justice of the peace,and returned to Poker Flat. I am aware that something more might bemade of this episode, but I prefer to tell it as it was current at SandyBar,--in the gulches and bar-rooms,--where all sentiment was modified bya strong sense of humor.
Of their married felicity but little is known, perhaps for the reasonthat Tennessee, then living with his partner, one day took occasion tosay something to the bride on his own account, at which, it is said,she smiled not unkindly and chastely retreated,--this time as faras Marysville, where Tennessee followed her, and where they went tohousekeeping without the aid of a justice of the peace. Tennessee'sPartner took the loss of his wife simply and seriously, as was hisfashion. But to everybody's surprise, when Tennessee one day returnedfrom Marysville, without his partner's wife,--she having smiled andretreated with somebody else,--Tennessee's Partner was the first man toshake his hand and greet him with affection. The boys who had gatheredin the canon to see the shooting were naturally indignant. Theirindignation might have found vent in sarcasm but for a certain lookin Tennessee's Partner's eye that indicated a lack of humorousappreciation. In fact, he was a grave man, with a steady application topractical detail which was unpleasant in a difficulty.
Meanwhile a popular feeling against Tennessee had grown up on the Bar.He was known to be a gambler; he was suspected to be a thief. In thesesuspicions Tennessee's Partner was equally compromised; his continuedintimacy with Tennessee after the affair above quoted could only beaccounted for on the hypothesis of a copartnership of crime. At lastTennessee's guilt became flagrant. One day he overtook a stranger on hisway to Red Dog. The stranger afterward related that Tennessee beguiledthe time with interesting anecdote and reminiscence, but illogicallyconcluded the interview in the following words: "And now, young man,I'll trouble you for your knife, your pistols, and your money. You seeyour weppings might get you into trouble at Red Dog, and your money's atemptation to the evilly disposed. I think you said your address wasSan Francisco. I shall endeavor to call." It may be stated here thatTennessee had a fine flow of humor, which no business preoccupationcould wholly subdue.
This exploit was his last. Red Dog and Sandy Bar made common causeagainst the highwayman. Tennessee was hunted in very much the samefashion as his prototype, the grizzly. As the toils closed around him,he made a desperate dash through the Bar, emptying his revolver at thecrowd before the Arcade Saloon, and so on up Grizzly Canon; but at itsfarther extremity he was stopped by a small man on a gray horse. Themen looked at each other a moment in silence. Both were fearless, bothself-possessed and independent, and both types of a civilization thatin the seventeenth century would have been called heroic, but in thenineteenth simply "reckless."
"What have you got there?--I call," said Tennessee quietly.
"Two bowers and an ace," said the stranger as quietly, showing tworevolvers and a bowie-knife.
"That takes me," returned Tennessee; and, with this gambler's epigram,he threw away his useless pistol and rode back with his captor.
It was a warm night. The cool breeze which usually sprang up with thegoing down of the sun behind the chaparral-crested mountain was thatevening withheld from Sandy Bar. The little canon was stifling withheated resinous odors, and the decaying driftwood on the Bar sent forthfaint sickening exhalations. The feverishness of day and its fiercepassions still filled the camp. Lights moved restlessly along the bankof the river, striking no answering reflection from its tawny current.Against the blackness of the pines the windows of the old loft above theexpress-office stood out staringly bright; and through their curtainlesspanes the loungers below could see the forms of those who were even thendeciding the fate of Tennessee. And above all this, etched on the darkfirmament, rose the Sierra, remote and passionless, crowned with remoterpassionless stars.
The trial of Tennessee was conducted as fairly as was consistent with ajudge and jury who felt themselves to some extent obliged to justify, intheir verdict, the previous irregularities of arrest and indictment. Thelaw of Sandy Bar was implacable, but not vengeful. The excitement andpersonal feeling of the chase were over; with Tennessee safe in theirhands, they were ready to listen patiently to any de
fense, which theywere already satisfied was insufficient. There being no doubt in theirown minds, they were willing to give the prisoner the benefit of anythat might exist. Secure in the hypothesis that he ought to be hanged ongeneral principles, they indulged him with more latitude of defensethan his reckless hardihood seemed to ask. The Judge appeared to be moreanxious than the prisoner, who, otherwise unconcerned, evidently tooka grim pleasure in the responsibility he had created. "I don't take anyhand in this yer game," had been his invariable but good-humored replyto all questions. The Judge--who was also his captor--for a momentvaguely regretted that he had not shot him "on sight" that morning,but presently dismissed this human weakness as unworthy of the judicialmind. Nevertheless, when there was a tap at the door, and it was saidthat Tennessee's Partner was there on behalf of the prisoner, he wasadmitted at once without question. Perhaps the younger members of thejury, to whom the proceedings were becoming irksomely thoughtful, hailedhim as a relief.
For he was not, certainly, an imposing figure. Short and stout, witha square face, sunburned into a preternatural redness, clad in a looseduck "jumper" and trousers streaked and splashed with red soil, hisaspect under any circumstances would have been quaint, and was now evenridiculous. As he stooped to deposit at his feet a heavy carpetbag hewas carrying, it became obvious, from partially developed legends andinscriptions, that the material with which his trousers had been patchedhad been originally intended for a less ambitious covering. Yet headvanced with great gravity, and after shaking the hand of each personin the room with labored cordiality, he wiped his serious perplexed faceon a red bandana handkerchief, a shade lighter than his complexion, laidhis powerful hand upon the table to steady himself, and thus addressedthe Judge:--