But Mr. Hamlin presently found himself again on the highroad and at hisformer pace. Ditches and banks of gravel, denuded hillsides, stumps,and decayed trunks of trees, took the place of woodland and ravine, andindicated his approach to civilization. Then a church-steeple came insight, and he knew that he had reached home. In a few moments he wasclattering down the single narrow street that lost itself in a chaoticruin of races, ditches, and tailings at the foot of the hill, anddismounted before the gilded windows of the Magnolia saloon. Passingthrough the long bar-room, he pushed open a green-baize door, entered adark passage, opened another door with a passkey, and found himself ina dimly lighted room, whose furniture, though elegant and costly for thelocality, showed signs of abuse. The inlaid centre-table was overlaidwith stained disks that were not contemplated in the original design,the embroidered armchairs were discolored, and the green velvet lounge,on which Mr. Hamlin threw himself, was soiled at the foot with the redsoil of Wingdam.
Mr. Hamlin did not sing in his cage. He lay still, looking at a highlycolored painting above him, representing a young creature of opulentcharms. It occurred to him then, for the first time, that he had neverseen exactly that kind of a woman, and that, if he should, he wouldnot, probably, fall in love with her. Perhaps he was thinking of anotherstyle of beauty. But just then some one knocked at the door. Withoutrising, he pulled a cord that apparently shot back a bolt, for the doorswung open, and a man entered.
The new-comer was broad-shouldered and robust,--a vigor not borne out inthe face, which, though handsome, was singularly weak and disfigured bydissipation. He appeared to be, also, under the influence of liquor, forhe started on seeing Mr. Hamlin, and said, "I thought Kate was here;"stammered, and seemed confused and embarrassed.
Mr. Hamlin smiled the smile which he had before worn on the Wingdamcoach, and sat up, quite refreshed and ready for business.
"You didn't come up on the stage," continued the newcomer, "did you?"
"No," replied Hamlin; "I left it at Scott's Ferry. It isn't due for halfan hour yet. But how's luck, Brown?"
"D--d bad," said Brown, his face suddenly assuming an expression of weakdespair. "I'm cleaned out again, Jack," he continued, in a whining tone,that formed a pitiable contrast to his bulky figure; "can't you help mewith a hundred till to-morrow's clean-up? You see I've got to send moneyhome to the old woman, and--you've won twenty times that amount fromme."
The conclusion was, perhaps, not entirely logical, but Jack overlookedit, and handed the sum to his visitor. "The old-woman business is aboutplayed out, Brown," he added, by way of commentary; "why don't you sayyou want to buck ag'in' faro? You know you ain't married!"
"Fact, sir," said Brown, with a sudden gravity, as if the mere contactof the gold with the palm of the hand had imparted some dignity to hisframe. "I've got a wife--a d--d good one, too, if I do say it--in theStates. It's three years since I've seen her, and a year since I've writto her. When things is about straight, and we get down to the lead, I'mgoing to send for her."
"And Kate?" queried Mr. Hamlin, with his previous smile.
Mr. Brown of Calaveras essayed an archness of glance to cover hisconfusion, which his weak face and whiskey-muddled intellect but poorlycarried out, and said,--
"D--n it, Jack, a man must have a little liberty, you know. Butcome, what do you say to a little game? Give us a show to double thishundred."
Jack Hamlin looked curiously at his fatuous friend. Perhaps he knew thatthe man was predestined to lose the money, and preferred that it shouldflow back into his own coffers rather than any other. He nodded hishead, and drew his chair toward the table. At the same moment there camea rap upon the door.
"It's Kate," said Mr. Brown.
Mr. Hamlin shot back the bolt and the door opened. But, for the firsttime in his life, he staggered to his feet utterly unnerved and abashed,and for the first time in his life the hot blood crimsoned his colorlesscheeks to his forehead. For before him stood the lady he had liftedfrom the Wingdam coach, whom Brown, dropping his cards with a hystericallaugh, greeted as,--
"My old woman, by thunder!"
They say that Mrs. Brown burst into tears and reproaches of her husband.I saw her in 1857 at Marysville, and disbelieve the story. And the"Wingdam Chronicle" of the next week, under the head of "TouchingReunion," said: "One of those beautiful and touching incidents, peculiarto California life, occurred last week in our city. The wife of one ofWingdam's eminent pioneers, tired of the effete civilization of the Eastand its inhospitable climate, resolved to join her noble husbandupon these golden shores. Without informing him of her intention,she undertook the long journey, and arrived last week. The joy of thehusband may be easier imagined than described. The meeting is saidto have been indescribably affecting. We trust her example may befollowed."
* * * * *
Whether owing to Mrs. Brown's influence, or to some more successfulspeculations, Mr. Brown's financial fortune from that day steadilyimproved. He bought out his partners in the "Nip and Tuck" lead, withmoney which was said to have been won at poker a week or two after hiswife's arrival, but which rumor, adopting Mrs. Brown's theory that Brownhad forsworn the gaming-table, declared to have been furnished by Mr.Jack Hamlin. He built and furnished the Wingdam House, which pretty Mrs.Brown's great popularity kept overflowing with guests. He was electedto the Assembly, and gave largess to churches. A street in Wingdam wasnamed in his honor.
Yet it was noted that in proportion as he waxed wealthy and fortunate,he grew pale, thin, and anxious. As his wife's popularity increased,he became fretful and impatient. The most uxorious of husbands, hewas absurdly jealous. If he did not interfere with his wife's socialliberty, it was because it was maliciously whispered that his first andonly attempt was met by an outburst from Mrs. Brown that terrified himinto silence. Much of this kind of gossip came from those of her own sexwhom she had supplanted in the chivalrous attentions of Wingdam, which,like most popular chivalry, was devoted to an admiration of power,whether of masculine force or feminine beauty. It should be remembered,too, in her extenuation, that, since her arrival, she had been theunconscious priestess of a mythological worship, perhaps not moreennobling to her womanhood than that which distinguished an older Greekdemocracy. I think that Brown was dimly conscious of this. But his onlyconfidant was Jack Hamlin, whose infelix reputation naturally precludedany open intimacy with the family, and whose visits were infrequent.
It was midsummer and a moonlit night, and Mrs. Brown, very rosy,large-eyed, and pretty, sat upon the piazza, enjoying the fresh incenseof the mountain breeze, and, it is to be feared, another incensewhich was not so fresh nor quite as innocent. Beside her sat ColonelStarbottle and Judge Boompointer, and a later addition to her court inthe shape of a foreign tourist. She was in good spirits.
"What do you see down the road?" inquired the gallant Colonel, who hadbeen conscious, for the last few minutes, that Mrs. Brown's attentionwas diverted.
"Dust," said Mrs. Brown, with a sigh. "Only Sister Anne's 'flock ofsheep.'"
The Colonel, whose literary recollections did not extend farther backthan last week's paper, took a more practical view. "It ain't sheep," hecontinued; "it's a horseman. Judge, ain't that Jack Hamlin's gray?"
But the Judge didn't know; and, as Mrs. Brown suggested the air wasgrowing too cold for further investigations, they retired to the parlor.
Mr. Brown was in the stable, where he generally retired after dinner.Perhaps it was to show his contempt for his wife's companions; perhaps,like other weak natures, he found pleasure in the exercise of absolutepower over inferior animals. He had a certain gratification in thetraining of a chestnut mare, whom he could beat or caress as pleasedhim, which he couldn't do with Mrs. Brown. It was here that herecognized a certain gray horse which had just come in, and, lookinga little farther on, found his rider. Brown's greeting was cordialand hearty; Mr. Hamlin's somewhat restrained. But, at Brown's urgentrequest, he followed him up the back stairs to a narrow corridor,
andthence to a small room looking out upon the stable-yard. It was plainlyfurnished with a bed, a table, a few chairs, and a rack for guns andwhips.
"This yer's my home, Jack," said Brown with a sigh, as he threw himselfupon the bed and motioned his companion to a chair. "Her room's t' otherend of the hall. It's more'n six months since we've lived together, ormet, except at meals. It's mighty rough papers on the head of the house,ain't it?" he said with a forced laugh. "But I'm glad to see you,Jack, d--d glad," and he reached from the bed, and again shook theunresponsive hand of Jack Hamlin.
"I brought ye up here, for I didn't want to talk in the stable; though,for the matter of that, it's all round town. Don't strike a light. Wecan talk here in the moonshine. Put up your feet on that winder and sithere beside me. Thar's whiskey in that jug."
Mr. Hamlin did not avail himself of the information. Brown of Calaverasturned his face to the wall, and continued,--
"If I didn't love the woman, Jack, I wouldn't mind. But it's loving her,and seeing her day arter day goin' on at this rate, and no one to putdown the brake; that's what gits me! But I'm glad to see ye, Jack, d--dglad."
In the darkness he groped about until he had found and wrung hiscompanion's hand again. He would have detained it, but Jack slipped itinto the buttoned breast of his coat, and asked listlessly, "How longhas this been going on?"
"Ever since she came here; ever since the day she walked into theMagnolia. I was a fool then; Jack, I'm a fool now; but I didn't know howmuch I loved her till then. And she hasn't been the same woman since.
"But that ain't all, Jack; and it's what I wanted to see you about, andI'm glad you've come. It ain't that she doesn't love me any more; itain't that she fools with every chap that comes along; for perhaps Istaked her love and lost it, as I did everything else at the Magnolia;and perhaps foolin' is nateral to some women, and thar ain't no greatharm done, 'cept to the fools. But, Jack, I think,--I think she lovessomebody else. Don't move, Jack! don't move; if your pistol hurts ye,take it off.
"It's been more'n six months now that she's seemed unhappy and lonesome,and kinder nervous and scared-like. And sometimes I've ketched herlookin' at me sort of timid and pitying. And she writes to somebody. Andfor the last week she's been gathering her own things,--trinkets, andfurbelows, and jew'lry,--and, Jack, I think she's goin' off. I couldstand all but that. To have her steal away like a thief!" He put hisface downward to the pillow, and for a few moments there was no soundbut the ticking of a clock on the mantel. Mr. Hamlin lit a cigar, andmoved to the open window. The moon no longer shone into the room, andthe bed and its occupant were in shadow. "What shall I do, Jack?" saidthe voice from the darkness.
The answer came promptly and clearly from the window-side, "Spot theman, and kill him on sight."
"But, Jack"--
"He's took the risk!"
"But will that bring her back?"
Jack did not reply, but moved from the window towards the door.
"Don't go yet, Jack; light the candle and sit by the table. It's acomfort to see ye, if nothin' else."
Jack hesitated and then complied. He drew a pack of cards from hispocket and shuffled them, glancing at the bed. But Brown's face wasturned to the wall. When Mr. Hamlin had shuffled the cards, he cut them,and dealt one card on the opposite side of the table towards the bed,and another on his side of the table for himself. The first was a deuce;his own card a king. He then shuffled and cut again. This time "dummy"had a queen and himself a four-spot. Jack brightened up for the thirddeal. It brought his adversary a deuce and himself a king again. "Twoout of three," said Jack audibly.
"What's that, Jack?" said Brown.
"Nothing."
Then Jack tried his hand with dice; but he always threw sixes and hisimaginary opponent aces. The force of habit is sometimes confusing.
Meanwhile some magnetic influence in Mr. Hamlin's presence, or theanodyne of liquor, or both, brought surcease of sorrow, and Brown slept.Mr. Hamlin moved his chair to the window and looked out on the townof Wingdam, now sleeping peacefully, its harsh outlines softened andsubdued, its glaring colors mellowed and sobered in the moonlight thatflowed over all. In the hush he could hear the gurgling of water in theditches and the sighing of the pines beyond the hill. Then he lookedup at the firmament, and as he did so a star shot across the twinklingfield. Presently another, and then another. The phenomenon suggested toMr. Hamlin a fresh augury. If in another fifteen minutes another starshould fall--He sat there, watch in hand, for twice that time, but thephenomenon was not repeated.
The clock struck two, and Brown still slept. Mr. Hamlin approached thetable and took from his pocket a letter, which he read by the flickeringcandlelight. It contained only a single line, written in pencil, in awoman's hand,--
"Be at the corral with the buggy at three."
The sleeper moved uneasily and then awoke. "Are you there, Jack?"
"Yes."
"Don't go yet. I dreamed just now, Jack,--dreamed of old times. Ithought that Sue and me was being married agin, and that the parson,Jack, was--who do you think?--you!"
The gambler laughed, and seated himself on the bed, the paper still inhis hand.
"It's a good sign, ain't it?" queried Brown.
"I reckon! Say, old man, hadn't you better get up?"
The "old man," thus affectionately appealed to, rose, with theassistance of Hamlin's outstretched hand.
"Smoke?"
Brown mechanically took the proffered cigar.
"Light?"
Jack had twisted the letter into a spiral, lit it, and held it for hiscompanion. He continued to hold it until it was consumed, and droppedthe fragment--a fiery star--from the open window. He watched it as itfell, and then returned to his friend.
"Old man," he said, placing his hands upon Brown's shoulders, "in tenminutes I'll be on the road, and gone like that spark. We won't see eachother agin; but, before I go, take a fool's advice: sell out all you'vegot, take your wife with you, and quit the country. It ain't no placefor you nor her. Tell her she must go; make her go if she won't. Don'twhine because you can't be a saint and she ain't an angel. Be a man, andtreat her like a woman. Don't be a d-d fool. Good-by."
He tore himself from Brown's grasp and leaped down the stairs like adeer. At the stable-door he collared the half-sleeping hostler, andbacked him against the wall. "Saddle my horse in two minutes, orI'll"--The ellipsis was frightfully suggestive.
"The missis said you was to have the buggy," stammered the man.
"D--n the buggy!" The horse was saddled as fast as the nervous hands ofthe astounded hostler could manipulate buckle and strap.
"Is anything up, Mr. Hamlin?" said the man, who, like all his class,admired the elan of his fiery patron, and was really concerned in hiswelfare.
"Stand aside!"
The man fell back. With an oath, a bound, and clatter, Jack was into theroad. In another moment, to the man's half-awakened eyes, he was but amoving cloud of dust in the distance, towards which a star just loosedfrom its brethren was trailing a stream of fire.
But early that morning the dwellers by the Wingdam turnpike, milesaways, heard a voice, pure as a sky-lark's, singing afield. They whowere asleep turned over on their rude couches to dream of youth, andlove, and olden days. Hard-faced men and anxious gold-seekers, alreadyat work, ceased their labors and leaned upon their picks to listen to aromantic vagabond ambling away against the rosy sunrise.
* * * * *
CONDENSED NOVELS
* * * * *
MUCK-A-MUCK
A MODERN INDIAN NOVEL
AFTER COOPER
CHAPTER I
It was toward the close of a bright October day. The last rays of thesetting sun were reflected from one of those sylvan lakes peculiar tothe Sierras of California. On the right the curling smoke of an Indianvillage rose between the columns of the lofty pines, while to the leftthe log cottage of Judge Tompkins, embowered in buckeyes, completed
theenchanting picture.
Although the exterior of the cottage was humble and unpretentious,and in keeping with the wildness of the landscape, its interior gaveevidence of the cultivation and refinement of its inmates. An aquarium,containing goldfishes, stood on a marble centre-table at one end of theapartment, while a magnificent grand piano occupied the other. The floorwas covered with a yielding tapestry carpet, and the walls were adornedwith paintings from the pencils of Van Dyke, Rubens, Tintoretto, MichaelAngelo, and the productions of the more modern Turner, Kensett, Church,and Bierstadt. Although Judge Tompkins had chosen the frontiers ofcivilization as his home, it was impossible for him to entirely foregothe habits and tastes of his former life. He was seated in a luxuriousarmchair, writing at a mahogany escritoire, while his daughter, a lovelyyoung girl of seventeen summers, plied her crotchet-needle on an ottomanbeside him. A bright fire of pine logs flickered and flamed on the amplehearth.