"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 by ayoung 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 over hisupturned, 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 be madeof this episode, but I prefer to tell it as it was current at SandyBar,--in the gulches and barrooms,--where all sentiment was modified by astrong 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, shesmiled not unkindly, and chastely retreated, this time as far asMarysville, 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 canyon to see the shooting were naturally indignant. Theirindignation might have found vent in sarcasm but for a certain look inTennessee'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 was SanFrancisco. 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 Canyon; but at itsfarther extremity he was stopped by a small man on a gray horse. The menlooked at each other a moment in silence. Both were fearless, bothself-possessed and independent, and both types of a civilization that inthe seventeenth century would have been called heroic, but in thenineteenth simply "reckless." "What have you got there?--I call," saidTennessee see, quietly. "Two bowers and an ace," said the stranger, asquietly, showing two revolvers and a bowie-knife. "That takes me,"returned Tennessee; and, with this gambler's epigram, he threw away hisuseless 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 canyon 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 eventhen deciding the fate of Tennessee. And above all this, etched on thedark firmament, rose the Sierra, remote and passionless, crowned withremoter passionless 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 defense, 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,on general 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 took agrim 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, butpresently 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, with asquare 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 carpet-bag 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, perplexedface on a red bandanna handkerchief, a shade lighter than hiscomplexion, laid his powerful hand upon the table to steady himself, andthus addressed the Judge:--"I was passin' by," he began, by way ofapology, "and I thought I'd just step in and see how things was gittin'on with Tennessee thar,--my pardner. It's a hot night. I disrememberany sich weather before on the Bar."
He paused a moment, but nobody volunteering any other meteorologicalrecollection, he again had recourse to his pocket-handkerchief, and forsome moments mopped his face diligently.
"Have you anything to say on behalf of the prisoner?"' said the Judge,finally.
"Thet's it," said Tennessee's Partner, in a tone of relief. "I come yaras Tennessee's pardner, knowing him nigh on four year, off and on, wetand dry, in luck and out o' luck. His ways ain't allers my ways, butthar ain't any p'ints in that young man, thar ain't any liveliness ashe's been up to, as I don't know. And you sez to me, sezyou,--confidential-like, and between man and man,--sez you, 'Do you knowanything in his behalf?' and I sez to you, sez I,--confidential-like,as between man and man,--'What should a man know of his pardner?'"
"Is this all you have to say? asked the Judge impatiently, feeling,perhaps, that a dangerous sympathy of humor was beginning to humanizethe court.
"Thet's so," continued Tennessee's Partner. "It ain't for me to sayanything agin' him. And now, what's the case? Here's Tennessee wantsmoney, wants it bad, and doesn't like to ask it of his old pardner.Well, what does Tennessee do? He lays for a stranger, and he fetchesthat stranger; and you lays for him, and you fetches him;
and the honorsis easy. And I put it to you, bein' a far-minded man, and to you,gentlemen all, as far-minded men, ef this is isn't so."
"Prisoner," said the Judge, interrupting, "have you any questions to askthis man?"
"No! no!" continued Tennessee's Partner hastily. "I play this yer handalone. To come down to the bedrock, it's just this: Tennessee, thar, hasplayed it pretty rough and expensive-like on a stranger, and on this yercamp. And now, what's the fair thing? Some would say more; some wouldsay less. Here's seventeen hundred dollars in coarse gold and awatch,--it's about all my pile,--and call it