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diff --git a/2695-h/2695-h.htm b/2695-h/2695-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..258a8e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/2695-h/2695-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4158 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Jeff Briggs's Love Story, by Bret Harte + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jeff Briggs's Love Story, by Bret Harte + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jeff Briggs's Love Story + +Author: Bret Harte + +Release Date: May 25, 2006 [EBook #2695] +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEFF BRIGGS'S LOVE STORY *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + JEFF BRIGGS'S LOVE STORY + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Bret Harte + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + JEFF BRIGGS'S LOVE STORY. + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + It was raining and blowing at Eldridge's Crossing. From the stately + pine-trees on the hill-tops, which were dignifiedly protesting through + their rigid spines upward, to the hysterical willows in the hollow, that + had whipped themselves into a maudlin fury, there was a general tumult. + When the wind lulled, the rain kept up the distraction, firing long + volleys across the road, letting loose miniature cataracts from the + hill-sides to brawl in the ditches, and beating down the heavy heads of + wild oats on the levels; when the rain ceased for a moment the wind + charged over the already defeated field, ruffled the gullies, scattered + the spray from the roadside pines, and added insult to injury. But both + wind and rain concentrated their energies in a malevolent attempt to + utterly disperse and scatter the “Half-way House,” which seemed to have + wholly lost its way, and strayed into the open, where, dazed and + bewildered, unprepared and unprotected, it was exposed to the taunting + fury of the blast. A loose, shambling, disjointed, hastily built structure—representing + the worst features of Pioneer renaissance—it rattled its loose + window-sashes like chattering teeth, banged its ill-hung shutters, and + admitted so much of the invading storm, that it might have blown up or + blown down with equal facility. + </p> + <p> + Jefferson Briggs, proprietor and landlord of the “Half-way House,” had + just gone through the formality of closing his house for the night, + hanging dangerously out of the window in the vain attempt to subdue a + rebellious shutter that had evidently entered into conspiracy with the + invaders, and, shutting a door as against a sheriff's posse, was going to + bed—i. e., to read himself asleep, as was his custom. As he entered + his little bedroom in the attic with a highly exciting novel in his pocket + and a kerosene lamp in his hand, the wind, lying in wait for him, + instantly extinguished his lamp and slammed the door behind him. Jefferson + Briggs relighted the lamp, as if confidentially, in a corner, and, + shielding it in the bosom of his red flannel shirt, which gave him the + appearance of an illuminated shrine, hung a heavy bear-skin across the + window, and then carefully deposited his lamp upon a chair at his bedside. + This done, he kicked off his boots, flung them into a corner, and, rolling + himself in a blanket, lay down upon the bed. A habit of early rising, + bringing with it, presumably, the proverbial accompaniment of health, + wisdom, and pecuniary emoluments, had also brought with it certain ideas + of the effeminacy of separate toilettes and the virtue of readiness. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments he was deep in a chapter. + </p> + <p> + A vague pecking at his door—as of an unseasonable woodpecker, + finally asserted itself to his consciousness. “Come in,” he said, with his + eye still on the page. + </p> + <p> + The door opened to a gaunt figure, partly composed of bed-quilt and partly + of plaid shawl. A predominance of the latter and a long wisp of iron-gray + hair determined her sex. She leaned against the post with an air of + fatigue, half moral and half physical. + </p> + <p> + “How ye kin lie thar, abed, Jeff, and read and smoke on sich a night! The + sperrit o' the Lord abroad over the yearth—and up stage not gone by + yet. Well, well! it's well thar ez SOME EZ CAN'T SLEEP.” + </p> + <p> + “The up coach, like as not, is stopped by high water on the North Fork, + ten miles away, aunty,” responded Jeff, keeping to the facts. Possibly not + recognizing the hand of the beneficent Creator in the rebellious window + shutter, he avoided theology. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” responded the figure, with an air of delivering an unheeded and + thankless warning, “it is not for ME to say. P'raps it's all His wisdom + that some will keep to their own mind. It's well ez some hezn't narves, + and kin luxuriate in terbacker in the night watches. But He says, 'I'll + come like a thief in the night!'—like a thief in the night, Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + Totally unable to reconcile this illustration with the delayed “Pioneer” + coach and Yuba Bill, its driver, Jeff lay silent. In his own way, perhaps, + he was uneasy—not to say shocked—at his aunt's habitual + freedom of scriptural quotation, as that good lady herself was with an + occasional oath from his lips; a fact, by the way, not generally + understood by purveyors of Scripture, licensed and unlicensed. + </p> + <p> + “I'd take a pull at them bitters, aunty,” said Jeff feebly, with his + wandering eye still recurring to his page. “They'll do ye a power of good + in the way o' calmin' yer narves.” + </p> + <p> + “Ef I was like some folks I wouldn't want bitters—though made outer + the simplest yarbs of the yearth, with jest enough sperrit to bring out + the vartoos—ez Deacon Stoer's Balm 'er Gilead is—what yer + meaning? Ef I was like some folks I could lie thar and smoke in the lap o' + idleness—with fourteen beds in the house empty, and nary lodger for + one of 'em. Ef I was that indifferent to havin' invested my fortin in the + good will o' this house, and not ez much ez a single transient lookin' in, + I could lie down and take comfort in profane literatoor. But it ain't in + me to do it. And it wasn't your father's way, Jeff, neither!” + </p> + <p> + As the elder Briggs's way had been to seek surcease from such trouble at + the gambling table, and eventually, in suicide, Jeff could not deny it. + But he did not say that a full realization of his unhappy venture overcame + him as he closed the blinds of the hotel that night; and that the half + desperate idea of abandoning it then and there to the warring elements + that had resented his trespass on Nature seemed to him an act of simple + reason and justice. He did not say this, for easy-going natures are not + apt to explain the processes by which their content or resignation is + reached, and are therefore supposed to have none. Keeping to the facts, he + simply suggested the weather was unfavorable to travelers, and again found + his place on the page before him. Fixing it with his thumb, he looked up + resignedly. The figure wearily detached itself from the door-post, and + Jeff's eyes fell on his book. “You won't stop, aunty?” he asked + mechanically, as if reading aloud from the page; but she was gone. + </p> + <p> + A little ashamed, although much relieved, Jeff fell back again to + literature, interrupted only by the charging of the wind and the heavy + volleys of rain. Presently he found himself wondering if a certain banging + were really a shutter, and then, having settled in his mind that it WAS, + he was startled by a shout. Another, and in the road before the house! + </p> + <p> + Jeff put down the book, and marked the place by turning down the leaf, + being one of that large class of readers whose mental faculties are + butter-fingered, and easily slip their hold. Then he resumed his boots and + was duly caparisoned. He extinguished the kerosene lamp, and braved the + outer air, and strong currents of the hall and stairway in the darkness. + Lighting two candles in the bar-room, he proceeded to unlock the hall + door. At the same instant a furious blast shook the house, the door + yielded slightly and impelled a thin, meek-looking stranger violently + against Jeff, who still struggled with it. + </p> + <p> + “An accident has occurred,” began the stranger, “and”—but here the + wind charged again, blew open the door, pinned Jeff behind it back against + the wall, overturned the dripping stranger, dashed up the staircase, and + slammed every door in the house, ending triumphantly with No. 14, and a + crash of glass in the window. + </p> + <p> + “'Come, rouse up!” said Jeff, still struggling with the door, “rouse up + and lend a hand yer!” + </p> + <p> + Thus abjured, the stranger crept along the wall towards Jeff and began + again, “We have met with an accident.” But here another and mightier gust + left him speechless, covered him with spray of a wildly disorganized + water-spout that, dangling from the roof, seemed to be playing on the + front door, drove him into black obscurity and again sandwiched his host + between the door and the wall. Then there was a lull, and in the midst of + it Yuba Bill, driver of the “Pioneer” coach, quietly and coolly, + impervious in waterproof, walked into the hall, entered the bar-room, took + a candle, and, going behind the bar, selected a bottle, critically + examined it, and, returning, poured out a quantity of whiskey in a glass + and gulped it in a single draught. + </p> + <p> + All this while Jeff was closing the door, and the meek-looking man was + coming into the light again. + </p> + <p> + Yuba Bill squared his elbows behind him and rested them on the bar, + crossed his legs easily and awaited them. In reply to Jeff's inquiring but + respectful look, he said shortly— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're thar, are ye?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this yer new-fangled road o' yours is ten feet deep in the hollow + with back water from the North Fork! I've taken that yar coach inter fower + feet of it, and then I reckoned I couldn't hev any more. 'I'll stand on + this yer hand,' sez I; I brought the horses up yer and landed 'em in your + barn to eat their blessed heads off till the water goes down. That's wot's + the matter, old man, and jist about wot I kalkilated on from those durned + old improvements o' yours.” + </p> + <p> + Coloring a little at this new count in the general indictment against the + uselessness of the “Half-way House,” Jeff asked if there were “any + passengers?” + </p> + <p> + Yuba Bill indicated the meek stranger with a jerk of his thumb. “And his + wife and darter in the coach. They're all right and tight, ez if they was + in the Fifth Avenue Hotel. But I reckon he allows to fetch 'em up yer,” + added Bill, as if he strongly doubted the wisdom of the transfer. + </p> + <p> + The meek man, much meeker for the presence of Bill, here suggested that + such indeed was his wish, and further prayed that Jeff would accompany him + to the coach to assist in bringing them up. “It's rather wet and dark,” + said the man apologetically; “my daughter is not strong. Have you such a + thing as a waterproof?” + </p> + <p> + Jeff had not; but would a bear-skin do? + </p> + <p> + It would. + </p> + <p> + Jeff ran, tore down his extempore window curtain, and returned with it. + Yuba Bill, who had quietly and disapprovingly surveyed the proceeding, + here disengaged himself from the bar with evident reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “You'll want another man,” he said to Jeff, “onless ye can carry double. + Ez HE,” indicating the stranger, “ez no sort o' use, he'd better stay here + and 'tend bar,' while you and me fetch the wimmen off. 'Specially ez I + reckon we've got to do some tall wadin' by this time to reach 'em.” + </p> + <p> + The meek man sat down helplessly in a chair indicated by Bill, who at once + strode after Jeff. In another moment they were both fighting their way, + step by step, against the storm, in that peculiar, drunken, spasmodic way + so amusing to the spectator and so exasperating to the performer. It was + no time for conversation, even interjectional profanity was dangerously + exhaustive. + </p> + <p> + The coach was scarcely a thousand yards away, but its bright lights were + reflected in a sheet of dark silent water that stretched between it and + the two men. Wading and splashing, they soon reached it, and a gully where + the surplus water was pouring into the valley below. “Fower feet o' water + round her, but can't get any higher. So ye see she's all right for a month + o' sich weather.” Inwardly admiring the perspicacity of his companion, + Jeff was about to open the coach door when Bill interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “I'll pack the old woman, if you'll look arter the darter and enny little + traps.” + </p> + <p> + A female face, anxious and elderly, here appeared at the window. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's my little game,” said Bill, sotto voce. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any danger? where is my husband?” asked the woman impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Ez to the danger, ma'am,—thar ain't any. Yer ez safe HERE ez ye'd + be in a Sacramento steamer; ez to your husband, he allowed I was to come + yer and fetch yer up to the hotel. That's his look-out!” With this + cheering speech, Bill proceeded to make two or three ineffectual scoops + into the dark interior, manifestly with the idea of scooping out the lady + in question. In another instant he had caught her, lifted her gently but + firmly in his arms, and was turning away. + </p> + <p> + “But my child!—my daughter! she's asleep!”—expostulated the + woman; but Bill was already swiftly splashing through the darkness. Jeff, + left to himself, hastily examined the coach: on the back seat a slight + small figure, enveloped in a shawl, lay motionless. Jeff threw the + bear-skin over it gently, lifted it on one arm, and gathering a few + travelling bags and baskets with the other, prepared to follow his quickly + disappearing leader. A few feet from the coach the water appeared to + deepen, and the bear-skin to draggle. Jeff drew the figure up higher, in + vain. + </p> + <p> + “Sis,” he said softly. + </p> + <p> + No reply. + </p> + <p> + “Sis,” shaking her gently. + </p> + <p> + There was a slight movement within the wrappings. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't ye climb up on my shoulder, honey? that's a good child!” + </p> + <p> + There were one or two spasmodic jerks of the bear-skin, and, aided by + Jeff, the bundle was presently seated on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Are you all right now, Sis?” + </p> + <p> + Something like a laugh came from the bear-skin. Then a childish voice + said, “Thank you, I think I am!” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you afraid you'll fall off?” + </p> + <p> + “A little.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff hesitated. It was beginning to blow again. + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't reach down and put your arm round my neck, could ye, honey?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid not!”—although there WAS a slight attempt to do so. + </p> + <p> + “No?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, take a good holt, a firm strong holt, o' my hair! Don't be + afraid!” + </p> + <p> + A small hand timidly began to rummage in Jeff's thick curls. + </p> + <p> + “Take a firm holt; thar, just back o' my neck! That's right.” + </p> + <p> + The little hand closed over half a dozen curls. The little figure shook, + and giggled. + </p> + <p> + “Now don't you see, honey, if I'm keerless with you, and don't keep you + plump level up thar, you jist give me a pull and fetch me up all + standing!” + </p> + <p> + “I see!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you do! That's because you're a little lady!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff strode on. It was pleasant to feel the soft warm fingers in his hair, + pleasant to hear the faint childish voice, pleasant to draw the feet of + the enwrapped figure against his broad breast. Altogether he was sorry + when they reached the dry land and the lee of the “Half-way House,” where + a slight movement of the figure expressed a wish to dismount. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, missy,” said Jeff; “not yet! You'll get blown away, sure! And + then what'll they say? No, honey! I'll take you right in to your papa, + just as ye are!” + </p> + <p> + A few steps more and Jeff strode into the hall, made his way to the + sitting-room, walked to the sofa, and deposited his burden. The bear-skin + fell back, the shawl fell back, and Jeff—fell back too! For before + him lay a small, slight, but beautiful and perfectly formed woman. + </p> + <p> + He had time to see that the meek man, no longer meek, but apparently a + stern uncompromising parent, was standing at the head of the sofa; that + the elderly and nervous female was hovering at the foot, that his aunt, + with every symptom of religious and moral disapproval of his conduct, sat + rigidly in one of the rigid chairs—he had time to see all this + before the quick, hot blood, flying to his face, sent the water into his + eyes, and he could see nothing! + </p> + <p> + The cause of all this smiled—a dazzling smile though a faint one—that + momentarily lit up the austere gloom of the room and its occupants. “You + must thank this gentleman, papa,” said she, languidly turning to her + father, “for his kindness and his trouble. He has carried me here as + gently and as carefully as if I were a child.” Seeing symptoms of a return + of Jeff's distress in his coloring face, she added softly, as if to + herself, “It's a great thing to be strong—a greater thing to be + strong AND gentle.” + </p> + <p> + The voice thrilled through Jeff. But into this dangerous human voice + twanged the accents of special spiritual revelation, and called him to + himself again, “Be ye wise as sarpints, but harmless as duvs,” said Jeff's + aunt, generally, “and let 'em be thankful ez doesn't aboos the stren'th + the Lord gives 'em, but be allers ready to answer for it at the bar o' + their Maker.” Possibly some suggestion in her figure of speech reminded + her of Jeff's forgotten duties, so she added in the same breath and tone, + “especially when transient customers is waiting for their licker, and Yuba + Bill hammerin' on the counter with his glass; and yer ye stand, Jeff, + never even takin' up that wet bar-skin—enuff to give that young + woman her death.” + </p> + <p> + Stammering out an incoherent apology, addressed vaguely to the occupants + of the room, but looking toward the languid goddess on the sofa, Jeff + seized the bear-skin and backed out the door. Then he flew to his room + with it, and then returned to the bar-room; but the impatient William of + Yuba had characteristically helped himself and gone off to the stable. + Then Jeff stole into the hall and halted before the closed door of the + sitting-room. A bold idea of going in again, as became a landlord of the + “Half-way House,” with an inquiry if they wished anything further, had + seized him, but the remembrance that he had always meekly allowed that + duty to devolve upon his aunt, and that she would probably resent it with + scriptural authority and bring him to shame again, stayed his timid + knuckles at the door. In this hesitation he stumbled upon his aunt coming + down the stairs with an armful of blankets and pillows, attended by their + small Indian servant, staggering under a mattress. + </p> + <p> + “Is everything all right, aunty?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye kin be thankful to the Lord, Jeff Briggs, that this didn't happen last + week when I was down on my back with rheumatiz. But ye're never grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “The young lady—is SHE comfortable?” said Jeff, accepting his aunt's + previous remark as confirmatory. + </p> + <p> + “Ez well ez enny critter marked by the finger of the Lord with gallopin' + consumption kin be, I reckon. And she, ez oughter be putting off airthly + vanities, askin' for a lookin'-glass! And you! trapesin' through the hall + with her on yer shoulder, and dancin' and jouncin' her up and down ez if + it was a ball-room!” A guilty recollection that he had skipped with her + through the passage struck him with remorse as his aunt went on: “It's a + mercy that betwixt you and the wet bar-skin she ain't got her deth!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ye think, aunty,” stammered Jeff, “that—that—my bein' + the landlord, yer know, it would be the square thing—just out o' + respect, ye know—for me to drop in thar and ask 'em if thar's + anythin' they wanted?” + </p> + <p> + His aunt stopped, and resignedly put down the pillows. “Sarah,” she said + meekly to the handmaiden, “ye kin leave go that mattress. Yer's Mr. + Jefferson thinks we ain't good enough to make the beds for them two city + women folks, and he allows he'll do it himself!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! aunty!” began the horrified Jeff; but failing to placate his + injured relative, took safety in flight. + </p> + <p> + Once safe in his own room his eye fell on the bear-skin. It certainly WAS + wet. Perhaps he had been careless—perhaps he had imperiled her life! + His cheeks flushed as he threw it hastily in the corner. Something fell + from it to the floor. Jeff picked it up and held it to the light. It was a + small, a very small, lady's slipper. Holding it within the palm of his + hand as if it had been some delicate flower which the pressure of a finger + might crush, he strode to the door, but stopped. Should he give it to his + aunt? Even if she overlooked this evident proof of HIS carelessness, what + would she think of the young lady's? Ought he—seductive thought!—go + downstairs again, knock at the door, and give it to its fair owner, with + the apology he was longing to make? Then he remembered that he had but a + few moments before been dismissed from the room very much as if he were + the original proprietor of the skin he had taken. Perhaps they were right; + perhaps he WAS only a foolish clumsy animal! Yet SHE had thanked him—and + had said in her sweet childlike voice, “It is a great thing to be strong; + a greater thing to be strong and gentle.” He was strong; strong men had + said so. He did not know if he was gentle too. Had she meant THAT, when + she turned her strangely soft dark eyes upon him? For some moments he held + the slipper hesitatingly in his hand, then he opened his trunk, and + disposing various articles around it as if it were some fragile, + perishable object, laid it carefully therein. + </p> + <p> + This done, he drew off his boots, and rolling himself in his blanket, lay + down upon the bed. He did not open his novel—he did not follow up + the exciting love episode of his favorite hero—so ungrateful is + humanity to us poor romancers, in the first stages of their real passion. + Ah, me! 'tis the jongleurs and troubadours they want then, not us! When + Master Slender, sick for sweet Anne Page, would “rather than forty + shillings” he had his “book of songs and sonnets” there, what availed it + that the Italian Boccaccio had contemporaneously discoursed wisely and + sweetly of love in prose? I doubt not that Master Jeff would have mumbled + some verse to himself had he known any: knowing none, he lay there and + listened to the wind. + </p> + <p> + Did she hear it; did it keep her awake? He had an uneasy suspicion that + the shutter that was banging so outrageously was the shutter of her room. + Filled with this miserable thought, he arose softly, stole down the + staircase, and listened. The sound was repeated. It was truly the + refractory shutter of No. 7—the best bedroom adjoining the + sitting-room. The next room, No. 8, was vacant. Jeff entered it softly, as + softly opened the window, and leaning far out in the tempest, essayed to + secure the nocturnal disturber. But in vain. Cord or rope he had none, nor + could he procure either without alarming his aunt—an extremity not + to be considered. Jeff was a man of clumsy but forceful expedients. He + hung far out of the window, and with one powerful hand lifted the shutter + off its hinges and dragged it softly into No. 8. Then as softly he crept + upstairs to bed. The wind howled and tore round the house; the crazy + water-pipe below Jeff's window creaked, the chimneys whistled, but the + shutter banged no more. Jeff began to doze. “It's a great thing to be + strong,” the wind seemed to say as it charged upon the defenseless house, + and then another voice seemed to reply, “A greater thing to be strong and + gentle;” and hearing this he fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + It was not yet daylight when he awoke with an idea that brought him + hurriedly to his feet. Quickly dressing himself, he began to count the + money in his pocket. Apparently the total was not satisfactory, as he + endeavored to augment it by loose coins fished from the pockets of his + other garments, and from the corner of his washstand drawer. Then he + cautiously crept downstairs, seized his gun, and stole out of the still + sleeping house. The wind had gone down, the rain had ceased, a few stars + shone steadily in the north, and the shapeless bulk of the coach, its + lamps extinguished, loomed high and dry above the lessening water, in the + twilight. With a swinging tread Jeff strode up the hill and was soon upon + the highway and stage road. A half-hour's brisk walk brought him to the + summit, and the first rosy flashes of morning light. This enabled him to + knock over half-a-dozen early quail, lured by the proverb, who were + seeking their breakfast in the chaparral, and gave him courage to continue + on his mission, which his perplexed face and irresolute manner had for the + last few moments shown to be an embarrassing one. At last the white fences + and imposing outbuildings of the “Summit Hotel” rose before him, and he + uttered a deep sigh. There, basking in the first rays of the morning sun, + stood his successful rival! Jeff looked at the well-built, comfortable + structure, the commanding site, and the air of serene independence that + seemed to possess it, and no longer wondered that the great world passed + him by to linger and refresh itself there. + </p> + <p> + He was relieved to find the landlord was not present in person, and so + confided his business to the bar-keeper. At first it appeared that that + functionary declined interference, and with many head-shakings and audible + misgivings was inclined to await the coming of his principal, but a nearer + view of Jeff's perplexed face, and an examination of Jeff's gun, and the + few coins spread before him, finally induced him to produce certain + articles, which he packed in a basket and handed to Jeff, taking the gun + and coins in exchange. Thus relieved, Jeff set his face homewards, and ran + a race with the morning into the valley, reaching the “Half-way House” as + the sun laid waste its bare, bleak outlines, and relentlessly pointed out + its defects one by one. It was cruel to Jeff at that moment, but he hugged + his basket close and slipped to the back door and the kitchen, where his + aunt was already at work. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know ye were up yet, aunty,” said Jeff submissively. “It isn't + more than six o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Thar's four more to feed at breakfast,” said his aunt severely, “and + yer's the top blown off the kitchen chimbly, and the fire only just got to + go.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff saw that he was in time. The ordinary breakfast of the “Half-way + House,” not yet prepared, consisted of codfish, ham, yellow-ochre biscuit, + made after a peculiar receipt of his aunt's, and potatoes. + </p> + <p> + “I got a few fancy fixin's up at the Summit this morning, aunty,” he began + apologetically, “seein' we had sick folks, you know—you and the + young lady—and thinkin' it might save you trouble. I've got 'em + here,” and he shyly produced the basket. + </p> + <p> + “If ye kin afford it, Jeff,” responded his aunt resignedly, “I'm + thankful.” + </p> + <p> + The reply was so unexpectedly mild for Aunt Sally, that Jeff put his arms + around her and kissed her hard cheek. “And I've got some quail, aunty, + knowin' you liked em.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckoned you was up to some such foolishness,” said Aunt Sally, wiping + her cheek with her apron, “when I missed yer gun from the hall.” But the + allusion was a dangerous one, and Jeff slipped away. + </p> + <p> + He breakfasted early with Yuba Bill that morning; the latter gentleman's + taciturnity being intensified at such moments through a long habit of + confining himself strictly to eating in the limited time allowed his daily + repasts, and it was not until they had taken the horses from the stable + and were harnessing them to the coach that Jeff extracted from his + companion some facts about his guests. They were Mr. and Mrs. Mayfield, + Eastern tourists, who had been to the Sandwich Islands for the benefit of + their daughter's health, and before returning to New York, intended, under + the advice of their physician, to further try the effects of mountain air + at the “Summit Hotel,” on the invalid. They were apparently rich people, + the coach had been engaged for them solely—even the mail and express + had been sent on by a separate conveyance, so that they might be more + independent. It is hardly necessary to say that this fact was by no means + palatable to Bill—debarring him not only the social contact and + attentions of the “Express Agent,” but the selection of a box-seated + passenger who always “acted like a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye kin kalkilate what kind of a pardner that 'ar yaller-livered Mayfield + would make up on that box, partik'ly ez I heard before we started that + he'd requested the kimpany's agent in Sacramento to select a driver ez + didn't cuss, smoke, or drink. He did, sir, by gum!” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you were very careful, then, Bill,” said Jeff. + </p> + <p> + “In course,” returned Bill, with a perfectly diabolical wink. “In course! + You know that 'Blue Grass,'” pointing out a spirited leader; “she's a fair + horse ez horses go, but she's apt to feel her oats on a down grade, and + takes a pow'ful deal o' soothin' and explanation afore she buckles down to + her reg'lar work. Well, sir, I exhorted and labored in a Christian-like + way with that mare to that extent that I'm cussed if that chap didn't want + to get down afore we got to the level!” + </p> + <p> + “And the ladies?” asked Jeff, whose laugh—possibly from his + morning's experience—was not as ready as formerly. + </p> + <p> + “The ladies! Ef you mean that 'ar livin' skellington I packed up to yer + house,” said Bill promptly, “it's a pair of them in size and color, and + ready for any first-class undertaker's team in the kintry. Why, you + remember that curve on Break Neck hill, where the leaders allus look as if + they was alongside o' the coach and faced the other way? Well, that woman + sticks her skull outer the window, and sez she, confidential-like to old + yaller-belly, sez she, 'William Henry,' sez she, 'tell that man his horses + are running away!'” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't get to see the—the—daughter, Bill, did you?” asked + Jeff, whose laugh had become quite uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't,” said Bill, with sudden and inexplicable vehemence, “and + the less you see of her, Jefferson Briggs, the better for you.” + </p> + <p> + Too confounded and confused by Bill's manner to question further, Jeff + remained silent until they drew up at the door of the “Half-way House.” + But here another surprise awaited him. Mr. Mayfield, erect and dignified, + stood upon the front porch as the coach drove up. + </p> + <p> + “Driver!” began Mr. Mayfield. + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Driver,” said Mr. Mayfield, slightly weakening under Bill's eye, “I shall + want you no longer. I have”— + </p> + <p> + “Is he speaking to me?” said Bill audibly to Jeff, “'cause they call me + 'Yuba Bill' yer abouts.” + </p> + <p> + “He is,” said Jeff hastily. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbee he's drunk,” said Bill audibly; “a drop or two afore breakfast + sometimes upsets his kind.” + </p> + <p> + “I was saying, Bill,” said Mr. Mayfield, becoming utterly limp and weak + again under Bill's cold gray eyes, “that I've changed my mind, and shall + stop here awhile. My daughter seems already benefited by the change. You + can take my traps from the boot and leave them here.” + </p> + <p> + Bill laid down his lines resignedly, coolly surveyed Mr. Mayfield, the + house, and the half-pleased, half-frightened Jeff, and then proceeded to + remove the luggage from the boot, all the while whistling loud and + offensive incredulity. Then he climbed back to his box. Mr. Mayfield, + completely demoralized under this treatment, as a last resort essayed + patronage. + </p> + <p> + “You can say to the Sacramento agents, Bill, that I am entirely satisfied, + and”— + </p> + <p> + “Ye needn't fear but I'll give ye a good character,” interrupted Bill + coolly, gathering up his lines. The whip snapped, the six horses dashed + forward as one, the coach plunged down the road and was gone. + </p> + <p> + With its disappearance, Mr. Mayfield stiffened slightly again. “I have + just told your aunt, Mr. Briggs,” he said, turning upon Jeff, “that my + daughter has expressed a desire to remain here a few days; she has slept + well, seems to be invigorated by the air, and although we expected to go + on to the 'Summit,' Mrs. Mayfield and myself are willing to accede to her + wishes. Your house seems to be new and clean. Your table—judging + from the breakfast this morning—is quite satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff, in the first flush of delight at this news, forgot what that + breakfast had cost him—forgot all his morning's experience, and, I + fear, when he did remember it, was too full of a vague, hopeful courage to + appreciate it. Conscious of showing too much pleasure, he affected the + necessity of an immediate interview with his aunt, in the kitchen. But his + short cut round the house was arrested by a voice and figure. It was Miss + Mayfield, wrapped in a shawl and seated in a chair, basking in the + sunlight at one of the bleakest and barest angles of the house. Jeff + stopped in a delicious tremor. + </p> + <p> + As we are dealing with facts, however, it would be well to look at the + cause of this tremor with our own eyes and not Jeff's. To be plain, my + dear madam, as she basked in that remorseless, matter-of-fact California + sunshine, she looked her full age-twenty-five, if a day! There were + wrinkles in the corners of her dark eyes, contracted and frowning in that + strong, merciless light; there was a nervous pallor in her complexion; but + being one of those “fast colored” brunettes, whose dyes are a part of + their temperament, no sickness nor wear could bleach it out. The red of + her small mouth was darker than yours, I wot, and there were certain faint + lines from the corners of her delicate nostrils indicating alternate + repression and excitement under certain experiences, which are not found + in the classic ideals. Now Jeff knew nothing of the classic ideal—did + not know that a thousand years ago certain sensual idiots had, with brush + and chisel, inflicted upon the world the personification of the strongest + and most delicate, most controlling and most subtle passion that humanity + is capable of, in the likeness of a thick-waisted, idealess, + expressionless, perfectly contented female animal; and that thousands of + idiots had since then insisted upon perpetuating this model for the + benefit of a world that had gone on sighing for, pining for, fighting for, + and occasionally blowing its brains out over types far removed from that + idiotic standard. + </p> + <p> + Consequently Jeff saw only a face full of possibilities and probabilities, + framed in a small delicate oval, saw a slight woman's form—more than + usually small—and heard a low voice, to him full of gentle pride, + passion, pathos, and human weakness, and was helpless. + </p> + <p> + “I only said 'Good-morning,'” said Miss Mayfield, with that slight, arch + satisfaction in the observation of masculine bashfulness, which the best + of her sex cannot forego. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, miss; good-morning. I've been wanting to say to you that I + hope you wasn't mad, you know,” stammered Jeff, desperately intent upon + getting off his apology. + </p> + <p> + “It is so lovely this morning—such a change!” continued Miss + Mayfield. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss! You know I reckoned—at least what your father said, made + me kalkilate that you”— + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield, still smiling, knitted her brows and went on: “I slept so + well last night,” she said gratefully, “and feel so much better this + morning, that I ventured out. I seem to be drinking in health in this + clear sunlight.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly miss. As I was sayin', your father says his daughter is in the + coach; and Bill says, says he to me, 'I'll pack—I'll carry the old—I'll + bring up Mrs. Mayfield, if you'll bring up the daughter;' and when we come + to the coach I saw you asleep—like in the corner, and bein' small, + why miss, you know how nat'ral it is, I”— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Jeff! Mr. Briggs!” said Miss Mayfield plaintively, “don't, please—don't + spoil the best compliment I've had in many a year. You thought I was a + child, I know, and—well, you find,” she said audaciously, suddenly + bringing her black eyes to bear on him like a rifle, “you find—well?” + </p> + <p> + What Jeff thought was inaudible but not invisible. Miss Mayfield saw + enough of it in his eye to protest with a faint color in her cheek. Thus + does Nature betray itself to Nature the world over. + </p> + <p> + The color faded. “It's a dreadful thing to be so weak and helpless, and to + put everybody to such trouble, isn't it, Mr. Jeff? I beg your pardon—your + aunt calls you Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + “Please call me Jeff,” said Jeff, to his own surprise rapidly gaining + courage. “Everybody calls me that.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield smiled. “I suppose I must do what everybody does. So it + seems that we are to give you the trouble of keeping us here until I get + better or worse?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore I won't detain you now. I only wanted to thank you for your + gentleness last night, and to assure you that the bear-skin did not give + me my death.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled and nodded her small head, and wrapped her shawl again closely + around her shoulders, and turned her eyes upon the mountains, gestures + which the now quick-minded Jeff interpreted as a gentle dismissal, and + flew to seek his aunt. + </p> + <p> + Here he grew practical. Ready money was needed; for the “Half-way House” + was such a public monument of ill-luck, that Jeff had no credit. He must + keep up the table to the level of that fortunate breakfast—to do + which he had $1.50 in the till, left by Bill, and $2.50 produced by his + Aunt Sally from her work-basket. + </p> + <p> + “Why not ask Mr. Mayfield to advance ye suthin?” said Aunt Sally. + </p> + <p> + The blood flew to Jeff's face. “Never! Don't say that again, aunty.” + </p> + <p> + The tone and manner were so unlike Jeff that the old lady sat down half + frightened, and taking the corners of her apron in her hands began to + whimper. + </p> + <p> + “Thar now, aunty! I didn't mean nothin',—only if you care to have me + about the place any longer, and I reckon it's little good I am any way,” + he added, with a new-found bitterness in his tone, “ye'll not ask me to do + that.” + </p> + <p> + “What's gone o' ye, Jeff?” said his aunt lugubriously; “ye ain't nat'ral + like.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff laughed. “See here, aunty; I'm goin' to take your advice. You know + Rabbit?” + </p> + <p> + “The mare?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I'm going to sell her. The blacksmith offered me a hundred dollars + for her last week.” + </p> + <p> + “Ef ye'd done that a month ago, Jeff, ez I wanted ye to, instead o' + keeping the brute to eat ye out o' house and home, ye'd be better off.” + Aunt Sally never let slip an opportunity to “improve the occasion,” but + preferred to exhort over the prostrate body of the “improved.” “Well, I + hope he mayn't change his mind.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff smiled at such suggestion regarding the best horse within fifty miles + of the “Half-way House.” Nevertheless he went briskly to the stable, led + out and saddled a handsome grey mare, petting her the while, and keeping + up a running commentary of caressing epithets to which Rabbit responded + with a whinny and playful reaches after Jeff's red flannel sleeve. Whereat + Jeff, having loved the horse until it was displaced by another mistress, + grew grave and suddenly threw his arms around Rabbit's neck, and then + taking Rabbit's nose, thrust it in the bosom of his shirt and held it + there silently for a moment. Rabbit becoming uneasy, Jeff's mood changed + too, and having caparisoned himself and charger in true vaquero style, not + without a little Mexican dandyism as to the set of his doeskin trousers, + and the tie of his red sash, put a sombrero rakishly on his curls and + leaped into the saddle. + </p> + <p> + Jeff was a fair rider in a country where riding was understood as a + natural instinct, and not as a purely artificial habit of horse and rider, + consequently he was not perched up, jockey fashion, with a knee-grip for + his body, and a rein-rest for his arms on the beast's mouth, but rode with + long, loose stirrups, his legs clasping the barrel of his horse, his + single rein lying loose upon her neck, leaving her head free as the wind. + After this fashion he had often emerged from a cloud of dust on the red + mountain road, striking admiration into the hearts of the wayfarers and + coach-passengers, and leaving a trail of pleasant incense in the dust + behind him. It was therefore with considerable confidence in himself, and + a little human vanity, that he dashed round the house, and threw his mare + skilfully on her haunches exactly a foot before Miss Mayfield—himself + a resplendent vision of flying riata, crimson scarf, fawn-colored + trousers, and jingling silver spurs. + </p> + <p> + “Kin I do anythin' for ye, miss, at the Forks?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield looked up quietly. “I think not,” she said indifferently, as + if the flaming-Jeff was a very common occurrence. + </p> + <p> + Jeff here permitted the mare to bolt fifty yards, caught her up sharply, + swung her round on her off hind heel, permitted her to paw the air once or + twice with her white-stockinged fore-feet, and then, with another dash + forward, pulled her up again just before she apparently took Miss Mayfield + and her chair in a running leap. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure, miss?” asked Jeff, with a flushed face and a rather + lugubrious voice. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, thank you,” she said coldly, looking past this centaur to the + wooded mountain beyond. + </p> + <p> + Jeff, thoroughly crushed, was pacing meekly away when a childlike voice + stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “If you are going near a carpenter's shop you might get a new shutter for + my window; it blew away last night.” + </p> + <p> + “It did, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the shrill voice of Aunt Sally, from the doorway, “in course + it did! Ye must be crazy, Jeff, for thar it stands in No. 8, whar ye must + have put it after ye picked it up outside.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff, conscious that Miss Mayfield's eyes were on his suffused face, + stammered “that he would attend to it,” and put spurs to the mare, eager + only to escape. + </p> + <p> + It was not his only discomfiture; for the blacksmith, seeing Jeff's + nervousness and anxiety, was suspicious of something wrong, as the world + is apt to be, and appeased his conscience after the worldly fashion, by + driving a hard bargain with the doubtful brother in affliction—the + morality of a horse trade residing always with the seller. Whereby Master + Jeff received only eighty dollars for horse and outfit—worth at + least two hundred—and was also mulcted of forty dollars, principal + and interest for past service of the blacksmith. Jeff walked home with + forty dollars in his pocket—capital to prosecute his honest calling + of innkeeper; the blacksmith retired to an adjoining tavern to discuss + Jeff's affairs, and further reduce his credit. Yet I doubt which was the + happier—the blacksmith estimating his possible gains, and doubtful + of some uncertain sequence in his luck, or Jeff, temporarily relieved, + boundlessly hopeful, and filled with the vague delights of a first + passion. The only discontented brute in the whole transaction was poor + Rabbit, who, missing certain attentions, became indignant, after the + manner of her sex, bit a piece out of her crib, kicked a hole in her box, + and receiving a bad character from the blacksmith, gave a worse one to her + late master. + </p> + <p> + Jeff's purchases were of a temporary and ornamental quality, but not + always judicious as a permanent investment. Overhearing some remark from + Miss Mayfield concerning the dangerous character of the two-tined steel + fork, which was part of the table equipage of the “Half-way House,” he + purchased half a dozen of what his aunt was pleased to specify as “split + spoons,” and thereby lost his late good standing with her. He not only + repaired the window-shutter, but tempered the glaring window itself with a + bit of curtain; he half carpeted Miss Mayfield's bed-room with wild-cat + skins and the now historical bear-skin, and felt himself overpaid when + that young lady, passing the soft tabbyskins across her cheek, declared + they were “lovely.” For Miss Mayfield, deprecating slaughter in the + abstract, accepted its results gratefully, like the rest of her sex, and + while willing to “let the hart ungalled play,” nevertheless was able to + console herself with its venison. The woods, besides yielding aid and + comfort of this kind to the distressed damsel, were flamboyant with vivid + spring blossoms, and Jeff lit up the cold, white walls of her virgin cell + with demonstrative color, and made—what his aunt, a cleanly soul, + whose ideas of that quality were based upon the absence of any color + whatever, called—“a litter.” + </p> + <p> + The result of which was to make Miss Mayfield, otherwise lanquid and + ennuye, welcome Jeff's presence with a smile; to make Jeff, otherwise + anxious, eager, and keenly attentive, mute and silent in her presence. Two + symptoms bad for Jeff. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Mr. Mayfield's small conventional spirit pined for fellowship, + only to be found in larger civilizations, and sought, under plea of + business, a visit to Sacramento, where a few of the Mayfield type, still + surviving, were to be found. + </p> + <p> + This was a relief to Jeff, who only through his regard for the daughter, + was kept from open quarrel with the father. He fancied Miss Mayfield felt + relieved too, although Jeff had noticed that Mayfield had deferred to his + daughter more often than his wife—over whom your conventional small + autocrat is always victorious. It takes the legal matrimonial contract to + properly develop the first-class tyrant, male or female. + </p> + <p> + On one of these days Jeff was returning through the woods from marketing + at the Forks, which, since the sale of Rabbit, had became a foot-sore and + tedious business. He had reached the edge of the forest, and through the + wider-spaced trees, the bleak sunlit plateau of his house was beginning to + open out, when he stopped instantly. I know not what Jeff had been + thinking of, as he trudged along, but here, all at once, he was thrilled + and possessed with the odor of some faint, foreign perfume. He flushed a + little at first, and then turned pale. Now the woods were as full of as + delicate, as subtle, as grateful, and, I wot, far healthier and purer + odors than this; but this represented to Jeff the physical contiguity of + Miss Mayfield, who had the knack—peculiar to some of her sex—of + selecting a perfume that ideally identified her. Jeff looked around + cautiously; at the foot of a tree hard by lay one of her wraps, still + redolent of her. Jeff put down the bag which, in lieu of a market basket, + he was carrying on his shoulder, and with a blushing face hid it behind a + tree. It contained her dinner! + </p> + <p> + He took a few steps forwards with an assumption of ease and + unconsciousness. Then he stopped, for not a hundred yards distant sat—Miss + Mayfield on a mossy boulder, her cloak hanging from her shoulders, her + hands clasped round her crossed knees, and one little foot out—an + exasperating combination of Evangeline and little Red Riding Hood in + everything, I fear, but credulousness and self-devotion. She looked up as + he walked towards her (non constat that the little witch had not already + seen him half a mile away!) and smiled sweetly as she looked at him. So + sweetly, indeed, that poor Jeff felt like the hulking wolf of the old + world fable, and hesitated—as that wolf did not. The California + faunae have possibly depreciated. + </p> + <p> + “Come here!” she cried, in a small head voice, not unlike a bird's + twitter. + </p> + <p> + Jeff lumbered on clumsily. His high boots had become suddenly very heavy. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad to see you. I've just tired poor mother out—I'm always + tiring people out—and she's gone back to the house to write letters. + Sit down, Mr. Jeff, do, please!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff, feeling uncomfortably large in Miss Mayfield's presence, painfully + seated himself on the edge of a very low stone, which had the effect of + bringing his knees up on a level with his chin, and affected an ease + glaringly simulated. + </p> + <p> + “Or lie down, there, Mr. Jeff—it is so comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff, with a dreadful conviction that he was crashing down like a falling + pine-tree, managed at last to acquire a recumbent position at a respectful + distance from the little figure. + </p> + <p> + “There, isn't it nice?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Mayfield.” + </p> + <p> + “But, perhaps,” said Miss Mayfield, now that she had him down, “perhaps + you too have got something to do. Dear me! I'm like that naughty boy in + the story-book, who went round to all the animals, in turn, asking them to + play with him. He could only find the butterfly who had nothing to do. I + don't wonder he was disgusted. I hate butterflies.” + </p> + <p> + Love clarifies the intellect! Jeff, astonished at himself, burst out, + “Why, look yer, Miss Mayfield, the butterfly only hez a day or two to—to—to + live and—be happy!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield crossed her knees again, and instantly, after the sublime + fashion of her sex, scattered his intellect by a swift transition from the + abstract to the concrete. “But you're not a butterfly, Mr. Jeff. You're + always doing something. You've been hunting.” + </p> + <p> + “No-o!” said Jeff, scarlet, as he thought of his gun in pawn at the + “Summit.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do hunt; I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “You shot those quail for me the morning after I came. I heard you go out—early—very + early.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you allowed you slept so well that night, Miss Mayfield.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but there's a kind of delicious half-sleep that sick people have + sometimes, when they know and are gratefully conscious that other people + are doing things for them, and it makes them rest all the sweeter.” + </p> + <p> + There was a dead silence. Jeff, thrilling all over, dared not say anything + to dispel his delicious dream. Miss Mayfield, alarmed at his readiness + with the butterfly illustration, stopped short. They both looked at the + prospect, at the distant “Summit Hotel”—a mere snow-drift on the + mountain—at the clear sunlight on the barren plateau, at the bleak, + uncompromising “Half-way House,” and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to be very grateful,” at last began Miss Mayfield, in quite + another voice, and a suggestion that she was now approaching real and + profitable conversation, “that I'm so much better. This mountain air has + been like balm to me. I feel I am growing stronger day by day. I do not + wonder that you are so healthy and so strong as you are, Mr. Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff, who really did not know before that he was so healthy, + apologetically admitted the fact. At the same time, he was miserably + conscious that Miss Mayfield's condition, despite her ill health, was very + superior to his own. + </p> + <p> + “A month ago,” she continued reflectively, “my mother would never have + thought it possible to leave me here alone. Perhaps she may be getting + worried now.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield had calculated over much on Jeff's recumbent position. To + her surprise and slight mortification, he rose instantly to his feet, and + said anxiously, + </p> + <p> + “Ef you think so, miss, p'raps I'm keeping you here.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, Mr. Jeff. Your being here is a sufficient excuse for my + staying,” she replied, with the large dignity of a small body. + </p> + <p> + Jeff, mentally and physically crushed again, came down a little heavier + than before, and reclined humbly at her feet. Second knock-down blow for + Miss Mayfield. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Mr. Jeff,” said the triumphant goddess, in her first voice, “tell + me something about yourself. How do you live here—I mean; what do + you do? You ride, of course—and very well too, I can tell you! But + you know that. And of course that scarf and the silver spurs and the whole + dashing equipage are not intended entirely for yourself. No! Some young + woman is made happy by that exhibition, of course. Well, then, there's the + riding down to see her, and perhaps the riding out with her, and—what + else?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Mayfield,” said Jeff, suddenly rising above his elbow and his + grammar, “thar isn't no young woman! Thar isn't another soul except + yourself that I've laid eyes on, or cared to see since I've been yer. Ef + my aunt hez been telling ye that—she's—she—she—she—she—lies.” + </p> + <p> + Absolute, undiluted truth, even of a complimentary nature, is confounding + to most women. Miss Mayfield was no exception to her sex. She first + laughed, as she felt she ought to, and properly might with any other man + than Jeff; then she got frightened, and said hurriedly, “No, no! you + misunderstand me. Your aunt has said nothing.” And then she stopped with a + pink spot on her cheek-bones. First blood for Jeff! + </p> + <p> + Now this would never do; it was worse than the butterflies! She rose to + her full height—four feet eleven and a half—and drew her cloak + over her shoulders. “I think I will return to the house,” she said + quietly; “I suppose I ought not to overtask my strength.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better let me go with you, miss,” said Jeff submissively. + </p> + <p> + “I will, on one condition,” she said, recovering her archness, with a + little venom in it, I fear. “You were going home, too, when I called to + you. Now, I do not intend to let you leave that bag behind that tree, and + then have to come back for it, just because you feel obliged to go with + me. Bring it with you on one arm, and I'll take the other, or else—I'll + go alone. Don't be alarmed,” she added softly; “I'm stronger than I was + the first night I came, when you carried me and all my worldly goods + besides.” + </p> + <p> + She turned upon him her subtle magnetic eyes, and looked at him as she had + the first night they met. Jeff turned away bewildered, but presently + appeared again with the bag on his shoulder, and her wrap on his arm. As + she slipped her little hand over his sleeve, he began, apologetically and + nervously, + </p> + <p> + “When I said that about Aunt Sally, miss, I”— + </p> + <p> + The hand immediately became limp, the grasp conventional. + </p> + <p> + “I was mad, miss,” Jeff blundered on, “and I don't see how you believed it—knowing + everything ez you do.” + </p> + <p> + “How knowing everything as I do?” asked Miss Mayfield coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, about the quail, and about the bag!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Miss Mayfield. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later, Yuba Bill nearly ditched his coach in his utter + amazement at an apparently simple spectacle—a tall, good-looking + young fellow, in a red shirt and high boots, carrying a bag on his back, + and beside him, hanging confidentially on his arm, a small, slight, pretty + girl in a red cloak. “Nothing mean about her, eh, Bill?” said as admiring + box-passenger. “Young couple, I reckon, just out from the States.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” roared Bill. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, his sweetheart, I reckon?” suggested the box-passenger. + </p> + <p> + “Nary time!” growled Bill. “Look yer! I know 'em both, and they knows me. + Did ye notiss she never drops his arm when she sees the stage comin', but + kinder trapes along jist the same? Had they been courtin', she'd hev + dropped his arm like pizen, and walked on t'other side the road.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, for some occult reason, Bill was evidently out of humor; and + for the next few miles exhorted the impenitent Blue Grass horse with + considerable fervor. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile this pair, outwardly the picture of pastoral conjugality, slowly + descended the hill. In that brief time, failing to get at any further + facts regarding Jeff's life, or perhaps reading the story quite plainly, + Miss Mayfield had twittered prettily about herself. She painted her tropic + life in the Sandwich Islands—her delicious “laziness,” as she called + it; “for, you know,” she added, “although I had the excuse of being an + invalid, and of living in the laziest climate in the world, and of having + money, I think, Mr. Jeff, that I'm naturally lazy. Perhaps if I lived here + long enough, and got well again, I might do something, but I don't think I + could ever be like your aunt. And there she is now, Mr. Jeff, making signs + for you to hasten. No, don't mind me, but run on ahead; else I shall have + her blaming me for demoralizing you too. Go; I insist upon it! I can walk + the rest of the way alone. Will you go? You won't? Then I shall stop here + and not stir another step forward until you do.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, half jestingly, half earnestly, in the middle of the road, + and emphasized her determination with a nod of her head—an action + that, however, shook her hat first rakishly over one eye, and then on the + ground. At which Jeff laughed, picked it up, presented it to her, and then + ran off to the house. + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + His aunt met him angrily on the porch. “Thar ye are at last, and yer's a + stranger waitin to see you. He's been axin all sorts o' questions, about + the house and the business, and kinder snoopin' round permiskiss. I don't + like his looks, Jeff, but thet's no reason why ye should be gallivantin' + round in business hours.” + </p> + <p> + A large, thick-set man, with a mechanical smile that was an overt act of + false pretense, was lounging in the bar-room. Jeff dimly remembered to + have seen him at the last county election, distributing tickets at the + polls. This gave Jeff a slight prejudice against him, but a greater + presentiment of some vague evil in the air caused him to motion the + stranger to an empty room in the angle of the house behind the barroom, + which was too near the hall through which Miss Mayfield must presently + pass. + </p> + <p> + It was an infelicitous act of precaution, for at that very moment Miss + Mayfield slowly passed beneath its open window, and seeing her chair in + the sunny angle, dropped into it for rest and possibly meditation. + Consequently she overheard every word of the following colloquy. + </p> + <p> + The Stranger's voice: “Well, now, seein' ez I've been waitin' for ye over + an hour, off and on, and ez my bizness with ye is two words, it strikes me + yer puttin' on a little too much style in this yer interview, Mr. + Jefferson Briggs.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff's voice (a little husky with restraint): “What is yer business?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger's voice (lazily): “It's an attachment on this yer property + for principal, interest, and costs—one hundred and twelve dollars + and' seventy-five cents, at the suit of Cyrus Parker.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff's voice (in quick surprise): “Parker? Why, I saw him only yesterday, + and he agreed to wait a spell longer.” + </p> + <p> + The Stranger's voice: “Mebbee he did! Mebbee he heard afterwards suthin' + about the goin's on up yar. Mebbee he heard suthin' o' property bein' + converted into ready cash—sich property ez horses, guns, and sich! + Mebbee he heard o' gay and festive doin's—chickin every day, fresh + eggs, butcher's meat, port wine, and sich! Mebbee he allowed that his + chances o' gettin' his own honest grub outer his debt was lookin' mighty + slim! Mebbee” (louder) “he thought he'd ask the man who bought yer horse, + and the man you pawned your gun to, what was goin' on! Mebbee he thought + he'd like to get a holt a suthin' himself, even if it was only some of + that yar chickin and port wine!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff's voice (earnestly and hastily): “They're not for me. I have a family + boarding here, with a sick daughter. You don't think—” + </p> + <p> + The Stranger's voice (lazily): “I reckon! I seed you and her + pre-ambulating down the hill, lockin' arms. A good deal o' style, Jeff—fancy! + expensive! How does Aunt Sally take it?” + </p> + <p> + A slight shaking of the floor and window—a dead silence. + </p> + <p> + The Stranger's voice (very faintly): “For God's sake, let me up!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff's voice (very distinctly): “Another word! raise your voice above a + whisper, and by the living G—” + </p> + <p> + Silence. + </p> + <p> + The Stranger's voice (gasping): “I—I—promise!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff's voice (low and desperate): “Get up out of that! Sit down thar! Now + hear me! I'm not resisting your process. If you had all h-ll as witnesses + you daren't say that. I've shut up your foul jaw, and kept it from + poisoning the air, and thar's no law in Californy agin it! Now listen. + What! You will, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Everything quiet; a bird twittering on the window ledge, nothing more. + </p> + <p> + The Stranger's voice (very huskily): “I cave! Gimme some whiskey.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff's voice: “When we're through. Now listen! You can take possession of + the house; you can stand behind the bar and take every cent that comes in; + you can prevent anything going out; but as long as Mr. Mayfield and his + family stay here, by the living God—law or no law—I'll be boss + here, and they shall never know it!” + </p> + <p> + The Stranger's voice (weakly and submissively): “That sounds square. + Anythin' not agin the law and in reason, Jeff!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff's voice: “I mean to be square. Here is all the money I have, ten + dollars. Take it for any extra trouble you may have to satisfy me.” + </p> + <p> + A pause—the clinking of coin. + </p> + <p> + The Stranger's voice (deprecatingly): “Well! I reckon that would be about + fair. Consider the trouble” (a weak laugh here) “just now. 'Tain't every + man ez hez your grip. He! he! Ef ye hadn't took me so suddent like—he! + he!—well!—how about that ar whiskey?” + </p> + <p> + Jeff's voice (coolly): “I'll bring it.” + </p> + <p> + Steps, silence, coughing, spitting, and throat-clearing from the stranger. + </p> + <p> + Steps again, and the click of glass. + </p> + <p> + The Stranger's voice (submissively): “In course I must go back to the + Forks and fetch up my duds. Ye know what I mean! Thar now—don't, Mr. + Jeff!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff's voice (sternly): “If I find you go back on me—” + </p> + <p> + The Stranger's voice (hurriedly): “Thar's my hand on it. Ye can count on + Jim Dodd.” + </p> + <p> + Steps again. Silence. A bird lights on the window ledge, and peers into + the room. All is at rest. + </p> + <p> + Jeff and the deputy-sheriff walked through the bar-room and out on the + porch. Miss Mayfield in an arm-chair looked up from her book. + </p> + <p> + “I've written a letter to my father that I'd like to have mailed at the + Forks this afternoon,” she said, looking from Jeff to the stranger; + “perhaps this gentleman will oblige me by taking it, if he's going that + way.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take it, miss,” said Jeff hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Miss Mayfield archly, “I've taken up too much of your time + already.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm at your service, miss,” said the stranger, considerably affected by + the spectacle of this pretty girl, who certainly at that moment, in her + bright eyes and slightly pink cheeks, belied the suggestion of ill health. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Dear me!” She was rummaging in a reticule and in her pocket, + etc. “Oh, Mr. Jeff!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so frightened!” + </p> + <p> + “How, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “I have—yes!—I have left that letter on the stump in the + woods, where I was sitting when you came. Would you—” + </p> + <p> + Jeff darted into the house, seized his hat, and stopped. He was thinking + of the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Could you be so kind?” + </p> + <p> + Jeff looked in her agitated face, cast a meaning glance at the stranger, + and was off like a shot. + </p> + <p> + The fire dropped out of Miss Mayfield's eyes and cheeks. She turned toward + the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Please step this way.” + </p> + <p> + She always hated her own childish treble. But just at that moment she + thought she had put force and dignity into it, and was correspondingly + satisfied. The deputy sheriff was equally pleased, and came towards the + upright little figure with open admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Your name is Dodd—James Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “You are the deputy sheriff of the county? Don't look round—there is + no one here!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, miss—if you say so—yes!” + </p> + <p> + “My father—Mr. Mayfield—understood so. I regret he is not + here. I regret still more I could not have seen you before you saw Mr. + Briggs, as he wished me to.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “My father is a friend of Mr. Briggs, and knows something of his affairs. + There was a debt to a Mr. Parker” (here Miss Mayfield apparently consulted + an entry in her tablets) “of one hundred and twelve dollars and + seventy-five cents—am I right?” + </p> + <p> + The deputy, with great respect: “That is the figgers.” + </p> + <p> + “Which he wished to pay without the knowledge of Mr. Briggs, who would not + have consented to it.” + </p> + <p> + The official opened his eyes. “Yes, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as Mr. Mayfield is NOT here, I am here to pay it for him. You can + take a check on Wells, Fargo & Co., I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, miss.” + </p> + <p> + She took a check-book and pen and ink from her reticule, and filled up a + check. She handed it to him, and the pen and ink. “You are to give me a + receipt.” + </p> + <p> + The deputy looked at the matter-of-fact little figure, and signed and + handed over the receipted bill. + </p> + <p> + “My father said Mr. Briggs was not to know this.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “It was Mr. Briggs's intention to let the judgment take its course, and + give up the house. You are a man of business, Mr. Dodd, and know that this + is ridiculous!” + </p> + <p> + The deputy laughed. “In course, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “And whatever Mr. Briggs may have proposed to you to do, when you go back + to the Forks, you are to write him a letter, and say that you will simply + hold the judgment without levy.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, miss,” said the deputy, not ill-pleased to hold himself in + this superior attitude to Jeff. + </p> + <p> + “And—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss?” + </p> + <p> + She looked steadily at him. “Mr. Briggs told my father that he would pay + you ten dollars for the privilege of staying here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “And, of course, THAT'S not necessary now.” + </p> + <p> + “No-o, miss.” + </p> + <p> + A very small white hand—a mere child's hand—was here extended, + palm uppermost. + </p> + <p> + The official, demoralized completely, looked at it a moment, then went + into his pockets and counted out into the palm the coins given by Jeff; + they completely filled the tiny receptacle. + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield counted the money gravely, and placed it in her portemonnaie + with a snap. + </p> + <p> + Certain qualities affect certain natures. This practical business act of + the diminutive beauty before him—albeit he was just ten dollars out + of pocket by it—struck the official into helpless admiration. He + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “That's all,” said Miss Mayfield coolly; “you need not wait. The letter + was only an excuse to get Mr. Briggs out of the way.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand ye, miss.” He hesitated still. “Do you reckon to stop in + these parts long?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “'Cause ye ought to come down some day to the Forks.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + Yet at the corner of the house the rascal turned and looked back at the + little figure in the sunlight. He had just been physically overcome by a + younger man—he had lost ten dollars—he had a wife and three + children. He forgot all this. He had been captivated by Miss Mayfield! + </p> + <p> + That practical heroine sat there five minutes. At the end of that time + Jeff came bounding down the hill, his curls damp with perspiration; his + fresh, honest face the picture of woe, HER woe, for the letter could not + be found! + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Mr. Jeff. I wrote another and gave it to him.” + </p> + <p> + Two tears were standing on her cheeks. Jeff turned white. + </p> + <p> + “Good God, miss!” + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing. You were right, Mr. Jeff! I ought not to have walked down + here alone. I'm very, very tired, and—so—so miserable.” + </p> + <p> + What woman could withstand the anguish of that honest boyish face? I fear + Miss Mayfield could, for she looked at him over her handkerchief, and + said: “Perhaps you had something to say to your friend, and I've sent him + off.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Jeff hurriedly; and she saw that all his other troubles + had vanished at the sight of her weakness. She rose tremblingly from her + seat. “I think I will go in now, but I think—I think—I must + ask you to—to—carry me!” + </p> + <p> + Oh, lame and impotent conclusion! + </p> + <p> + The next moment, Jeff, pale, strong, passionate, but tender as a mother, + lifted her in his arms and brought her into the sitting-room. A + simultaneous ejaculation broke from Aunt Sally and Mrs. Mayfield—the + possible comment of posterity on the whole episode. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jeff, I reckoned you'd be up to suthin' like that!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jessie! I knew you couldn't be trusted.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. James Dodd did not return from the Forks that afternoon, to Jeff's + vague uneasiness. Towards evening a messenger brought a note from him, + written on the back of a printed legal form, to this effect: + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR—Seeing as you Intend to act on the Square in regard to that + little Mater I have aranged Things so that I ant got to stop with you but + I'll drop in onct in a wile to keep up a show for a Drink—respy + yours, J. DODD. + </p> + <p> + In this latter suggestion our legal Cerberus exhibited all three of his + heads at once. One could keep faith with Miss Mayfield, one could see her + “onct in a wile,” and one could drink at Jeff's expense. Innocent Jeff saw + only generosity and kindness in the man he had half-choked, and a sense of + remorse and shame almost outweighed the relief of his absence. “He might + hev been ugly,” said Jeff. He did not know how, in this selfish world, + there is very little room for gratuitous, active ugliness. + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield did not leave her room that afternoon. The wind was getting + up, and it was growing dark when Jeff, idly sitting on his porch, hoping + for her appearance, was quite astounded at the apparition of Yuba Bill as + a pedestrian, dusty and thirsty, making for his usual refreshment. Jeff + brought out the bottle, but could not refrain from mixing his verbal + astonishment with the conventional cocktail. Bill, partaking of his liquor + and becoming once more a speaking animal, slowly drew off his heavy, baggy + driving gloves. No one had ever seen Bill without them—he was + currently believed to sleep in them—and when he laid them on the + counter they still retained the grip of his hand, which gave them an + entertaining likeness to two plethoric and overfed spiders. + </p> + <p> + “Ef I concluded to pass over my lines to a friend and take a pasear up yer + this evening,” said Bill, eying Jeff sharply, “I don't know ez thar's any + law agin it! Onless yer keepin' a private branch o' the Occidental Ho-tel, + and on'y take in fash'n'ble fammerlies!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff, with a rising color, protested against such a supposition. + </p> + <p> + “Because ef ye ARE,” said Bill, lifting his voice, and crushing one of the + overgrown spiders with his fist, “I've got a word or two to say to the son + of Joe Briggs of Tuolumne. Yes, sir! Joe Briggs—yer father—ez + blew his brains out for want of a man ez could stand up and say a word to + him at the right time.” + </p> + <p> + “Bill,” said Jeff, in a low, resolute tone—that tone yielded up only + from the smitten chords of despair and desperation—“thar's a sick + woman in the house. I'll listen to anything you've got to say if you'll + say it quietly. But you must and SHALL speak low.” + </p> + <p> + Real men quickly recognize real men the world over; it is only your shams + who fence and spar. Bill, taking in the voice of the speaker more than his + words, dropped his own. + </p> + <p> + “I said I had a kepple of words to say to ye. Thar isn't any time in the + last fower months—ever since ye took stock in this old shanty, for + the matter o' that—that I couldn't hev said them to ye. I've knowed + all your doin's. I've knowed all your debts, 'spesh'ly that ye owe that + sneakin' hound Parker; and thar isn't a time that I couldn't and wouldn't + hev chipped in and paid 'em for ye—for your father's sake—ef + I'd allowed it to be the square thing for ye. But I know ye, Jeff. I know + what's in your BLOOD. I knew your father—allus dreamin', hopin,' + waitin'; I know YOU, Jeff, dreamin', hopin', waitin' till the end. And I + stood by, givin' you a free rein, and let it come!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff buried his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't your blame—it's blood! It ain't a week ago ez the kimpany + passes me over a hoss. 'Three-quarters Morgan,' sez they. Sez I: 'Wot's + the other quarter?' Sez they: 'A Mexican half-breed.' Well, she was a fair + sort of hoss. Comin' down Heavytree Hill last trip, we meets a drove o' + Spanish steers. In course she goes wild directly. Blood!” + </p> + <p> + Bill raised his glass, softly swirled its contents round and round, tasted + it, and set it down. + </p> + <p> + “The kepple o' words I had to say to ye was this: Git up and git!” + </p> + <p> + Something like this had passed through Jeff's mind the day before the + Mayfields came. Something like it had haunted him once or twice since. He + turned quickly upon the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “Ez how? you sez,” said Bill, catching at the hook. “I drives up yer some + night, and you sez to me, 'Bill, hev you got two seats over to the Divide + for me and aunty—out on a pasear.' And I sez, 'I happen to hev one + inside and one on the box with me.' And you hands out yer traps and any + vallybles ye don't want ter leave, and you puts your aunt inside, and gets + up on the box with me. And you sez to me, ez man to man, 'Bill,' sez you, + 'might you hev a kepple o' hundred dollars about ye that ye could lend a + man ez was leaving the county, dead broke?' and I sez, 'I've got it, and I + know of an op'nin' for such a man in the next county.' And you steps into + THAT op'nin', and your creditors—'spesh'ly Parker—slips into + THIS, and in a week they offers to settle with ye ten cents on the + dollar.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff started, flushed, trembled, recovered himself, and after a moment + said, doggedly: “I can't do it, Bill; I couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “In course,” said Bill, putting his hands slowly into his pockets, and + stretching his legs out—“in course ye can't because of a woman!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff turned upon him like a hunted bear. Both men rose, but Bill already + had his hand on Jeff's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I reckoned a minute ago there was a sick gal in the house! Who's going to + make a row now! Who's going to stamp and tear round, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Jeff sank back on his chair. + </p> + <p> + “I said thar was a woman,” continued Bill; “thar allus is one! Let a man + be hell-bent or heaven-bent, somewhere in his track is a woman's feet. I + don't say anythin' agin this gal, ez a gal. The best of 'em, Jeff, is only + guide-posts to p'int a fellow on his right road, and only a fool or a + drunken man holds on to 'em or leans agin em. Allowin' this gal is all you + think she is, how far is your guide-post goin' with ye, eh? Is she goin' + to leave her father and mother for ye? Is she goin' to give up herself and + her easy ways and her sicknesses for ye? Is she willin' to take ye for a + perpetooal landlord the rest of her life? And if she is, Jeff, are ye the + man to let her? Are ye willin' to run on her errants, to fetch her dinners + ez ye do? Thar ez men ez does it; not yer in Californy, but over in the + States thar's fellows is willing to take that situation. I've heard,” + continued Bill, in a low, mysterious voice, as of one describing the + habits of the Anthropophagi—“I've heard o' fellows ez call + themselves men, sellin' of themselves to rich women in that way. I've + heard o' rich gals buyin' of men for their shape; sometimes—but + thet's in furrin' kintries—for their pedigree! I've heard o' fellows + bein' in that business, and callin' themselves men instead o' hosses! Ye + ain't that kind o' man, Jeff. 'Tain't in yer blood. Yer father was a fool + about women, and in course they ruined him, as they allus do the best men. + It's on'y the fools and sneaks ez a woman ever makes anythin' out of. When + ye hear of a man a woman hez made, ye hears of a nincompoop. And when they + does produce 'em in the way o' nater, they ain't responsible for 'em, and + sez they're the image o' their fathers! Ye ain't a man ez is goin' to + trust yer fate to a woman!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Jeff darkly. + </p> + <p> + “I reckoned not,” said Bill, putting his hands in his pockets again. “Ye + might if ye was one o' them kind o' fellows as kem up from 'Frisco with + her to Sacramento. One o' them kind o' fellows ez could sling poetry and + French and Latin to her—one of HER kind—but ye ain't! No, + sir!” + </p> + <p> + Unwise William of Yuba! In any other breast but Jeff's that random shot + would have awakened the irregular auxiliary of love—jealousy! But + Jeff, being at once proud and humble, had neither vanity nor conceit, + without which jealousy is impossible. Yet he winced a little, for he had + feeling, and then said earnestly: + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that opening you spoke of would hold for a day or two + longer?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I think I can settle up matters here my own way, and go with + you, Bill.” + </p> + <p> + He had risen, and yet hesitatingly kept his hand on the back of his chair. + “Bill!” + </p> + <p> + “Jeff!” + </p> + <p> + “I want to ask you a question; speak up, and don't mind me, but say the + truth.” + </p> + <p> + Our crafty Ulysses, believing that he was about to be entrapped, ensconced + himself in his pockets, cocked one eye, and said: “Go on, Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + “Was my father VERY bad?” + </p> + <p> + Bill took his hands from his pockets. “Thar isn't a man ez crawls above + his grave ez is worthy to lie in the same ground with him!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Bill. Good night; I'm going to turn in!” + </p> + <p> + “Look yar, boy! G-d d—n it all, Jeff! what do ye mean?” + </p> + <p> + There were two tears—twin sisters of those in his sweetheart's eyes + that afternoon—now standing in Jeff's! + </p> + <p> + Bill caught both his hands in his own. Had they been of the Latin race + they would have, right honestly, taken each other in their arms, and + perhaps kissed! Being Anglo-Saxons, they gripped each other's hands hard, + and one, as above stated, swore! + </p> + <p> + When Jeff ascended to his room that night he went directly to his trunk + and took out Miss Mayfield's slipper. Alack! during the day Aunt Sally had + “put things to rights” in his room, and the trunk had been moved. This had + somewhat disordered its contents, and Miss Mayfield's slipper contained a + dozen shot from a broken Eley's cartridge, a few quinine pills, four + postage stamps, part of a coral earring which Jeff—on the most + apocryphal authority—fondly believed belonged to his mother, whom he + had never seen, and a small silver school medal which Jeff had once + received for “good conduct,” much to his own surprise, but which he still + religiously kept as evidence of former conventional character. He colored + a little, rubbed the medal and earring ruefully on his sleeve, replaced + them in his trunk, and then hastily emptied the rest of the slipper's + contents on the floor. This done, he drew off his boots, and, gliding + noiselessly down the stair, hung the slipper on the knob of Miss + Mayfield's door, and glided back again without detection. + </p> + <p> + Rolling himself in his blankets, he lay down on his bed. But not to sleep! + Staringly wide awake, he at last felt the lulling of the wind that nightly + shook his casement, and listened while the great, rambling, creaking, + disjointed “Half-way House” slowly settled itself to repose. He thought of + many things; of himself, of his past, of his future, but chiefly, I fear, + of the pale proud face now sleeping contentedly in the chamber below him. + He tossed with many plans and projects, more or less impracticable, and + then began to doze. Whereat the moon, creeping in the window, laid a cold + white arm across him, and eventually dried a few foolish tears upon his + sleeping lashes. + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Sally was making pies in the kitchen the next morning when Jeff + hesitatingly stole upon her. The moment was not a felicitous one. + Pie-making was usually an aggressive pursuit with Aunt Sally, entered into + severely, and prosecuted unto the bitter end. After watching her a few + moments Jeff came up and placed his arms tenderly around her. People very + much in love find relief, I am told, in this vicarious expression. + </p> + <p> + “Aunty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jeff! Thar, now—yer gittin' all dough!” Nevertheless, the + hard face relaxed a little. Something of a smile stole round her mouth, + showing what she might have been before theology and bitters had supplied + the natural feminine longings. + </p> + <p> + “Aunty dear!” + </p> + <p> + “You—boy!” + </p> + <p> + It WAS a boy's face—albeit bearded like the pard, with an extra + fierceness in the mustaches—that looked upon hers. She could not + help bestowing a grim floury kiss upon it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it now?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm thinking, aunty, it's high time you and me packed up our traps and + 'shook' this yar shanty, and located somewhere else.” Jeff's voice was + ostentatiously cheerful, but his eyes were a little anxious. + </p> + <p> + “What for NOW?” + </p> + <p> + Jeff hastily recounted his ill luck, and the various reasons—excepting + of course the dominant one—for his resolution. + </p> + <p> + “And when do you kalkilate to go?” + </p> + <p> + “If you'll look arter things here,” hesitated Jeff, “I reckon I'll go up + along with Bill to-morrow, and look round a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long do you reckon that gal would stay here after yar gone?” + </p> + <p> + This was a new and startling idea to Jeff. But in his humility he saw + nothing in it to flatter his conceit. Rather the reverse. He colored, and + then said apologetically,— + </p> + <p> + “I thought that you and Jinny could get along without me. The butcher will + pack the provisions over from the Fork.” + </p> + <p> + Laying down her rolling-pin, Aunt Sally turned upon Jeff with ostentatious + deliberation. “Ye ain't,” she began slowly, “ez taking a man with wimmen + ez your father was—that's a fact, Jeff Briggs! They used to say that + no woman as he went for could get away from him. But ye don't mean to say + yer think yer not good enough—such as ye are—for this snip of + an old maid, ez big as a gold dollar, and as yaller?” + </p> + <p> + “Aunty,” said Jeff, dropping his boyish manner, and his color as suddenly, + “I'd rather ye wouldn't talk that way of Miss Mayfield. Ye don't know her; + and there's times,” he added, with a sigh, “ez I reckon ye don't quite + know ME either. That young lady, bein' sick, likes to be looked after. Any + one can do that for her. She don't mind who it is. She don't care for me + except for that, and,” added Jeff humbly, “it's quite natural.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say she did,” returned Aunt Sally viciously; “but seeing ez + you've got an empty house yer on yer hands, and me a-slavin' here on jist + nothin', if this gal, for the sake o' gallivantin' with ye for a spell, + chooses to stay here and keep her family here, and pay high for it, I + don't see why it ain't yer duty to Providence and me to take advantage of + it.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff raised his eyes to his aunt's face. For the first time it struck him + that she might be his father's sister and yet have no blood in her veins + that answered to his. There are few shocks more startling and overpowering + to original natures than this sudden sense of loneliness. Jeff could not + speak, but remained looking fiercely at her. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Sally misinterpreted his silence, and returned to her work on the + pies. “The gal ain't no fool,” she continued, rolling out the crust as if + she were laying down broad propositions. “SHE reckons on it too, ez if it + was charged in the bill with the board and lodging. Why, didn't she say to + me, last night, that she kalkilated afore she went away to bring up some + friends from 'Frisco for a few days' visit? and didn't she say, in that + pipin', affected voice o' hers, 'I oughter make some return for yer + kindness and yer nephew's kindness, Aunt Sally, by showing people that can + help you, and keep your house full, how pleasant it is up here.' She ain't + no fool, with all her faintin's and dyin's away! No, Jeff Briggs. And if + she wants to show ye off agin them city fellows ez she knows, and ye ain't + got spunk enough to stand up and show off with her—why”—she + turned her head impatiently, but he was gone. + </p> + <p> + If Jeff had ever wavered in his resolution he would have been steady + enough NOW. But he had never wavered; the convictions and resolutions of + suddenly awakened character are seldom moved by expediency. He was eager + to taste the bitter dregs of his cup at once. He began to pack his trunk, + and make his preparations for departure. Without avoiding Miss Mayfield in + this new excitement, he no longer felt the need of her presence. He had + satisfied his feverish anxieties by placing his trunk in the hall beside + his open door, and was sitting on his bed, wrestling with a faded and + overtasked carpet-bag that would not close and accept his hard conditions, + when a small voice from the staircase thrilled him. He walked to the + corridor, and, looking down, beheld Miss Mayfield midway on the steps of + the staircase. + </p> + <p> + She had never looked so beautiful before! Jeff had only seen her in those + soft enwrappings and half-deshabille that belong to invalid femininity. + Always refined and modest thus, in her present walking-costume there was + added a slight touch of coquettish adornment. There was a brightness of + color in her cheek and eye, partly the result of climbing the staircase, + partly the result of that audacious impulse that had led her—a + modest virgin—to seek a gentleman in this personal fashion. Modesty + in a young girl has a comfortable satisfying charm, recognized easily by + all humanity; but he must be a sorry knave or a worse prig who is not + deliciously thrilled when Modesty puts her charming little foot just over + the threshold of Propriety. + </p> + <p> + “The mountain would not come to Mohammed, so Mohammed must come to the + mountain,” said Miss Mayfield. “Mother is asleep, Aunt Sally is at work in + the kitchen, and here am I, already dressed for a ramble in this bright + afternoon sunshine, and no one to go with me. But, perhaps, you, too, are + busy?” + </p> + <p> + “No, miss. I will be with you in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + I wish I could say that he went back to calm his pulses, which the + dangerous music of Miss Mayfield's voice had set to throbbing, by a few + moments' calm and dispassionate reflection. But he only returned to brush + his curls out of his eyes and ears, and to button over his blue flannel + shirt a white linen collar, which he thought might better harmonize with + Miss Mayfield's attire. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting on the staircase, poking her parasol through the + balusters. “You need not have taken that trouble, Mr. Jeff,” she said + pleasantly. “YOU are a part of this mountain picture at all times; but I + am obliged to think of dress.” + </p> + <p> + “It was no trouble, miss.” + </p> + <p> + Something in the tone of his voice made her look in his face as she rose. + It was a trifle paler, and a little older. The result, doubtless, thought + Miss Mayfield, of his yesterday's experience with the deputy-sheriff. + </p> + <p> + Such was her rapid deduction. Nevertheless, after the fashion of her sex, + she immediately began to argue from quite another hypothesis. + </p> + <p> + “You are angry with me, Mr. Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + “What, I—Miss Mayfield?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you!” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Mayfield!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, you are. Don't deny it?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! You give me punishments and—penances!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff opened his blue eyes on his tormentor. Could Aunt Sally have been + saying anything? + </p> + <p> + “If anybody, Miss Mayfield—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody but you. Look here!” + </p> + <p> + She extended her little hand with a smile. In the centre of her palm lay + four shining double B SHOT. + </p> + <p> + “There! I found those in my slipper this morning!” Jeff was speechless. + </p> + <p> + “Of course YOU did it! Of course it was YOU who found my slipper!” said + Miss Mayfield, laughing. “But why did you put shot in it, Mr. Jeff? In + some Catholic countries, when people have done wrong, the priests make + them do penance by walking with peas in their shoes! What have I ever done + to you? And why SHOT? They're ever so much harder than peas.” + </p> + <p> + Seeing only the mischievous, laughing face before him, and the open palm + containing the damning evidence of the broken Eley's cartridge, Jeff + stammered out the truth. + </p> + <p> + “I found the slipper in the bear-skin, Miss Mayfield. I put it in my trunk + to keep, thinking yer wouldn't miss it, and it's being a kind of + remembrance after you're gone away—of—of the night you came + here. Somebody moved the trunk in my room,” and he hung his head here. + “The things inside all got mixed up.” + </p> + <p> + “And that made you change your mind about keeping it?” said Miss Mayfield, + still smiling. + </p> + <p> + “No, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I gave it back to you, Miss Mayfield, because I was going away.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Where?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to find another location. Maybe you've noticed,” he continued, + falling back into his old apologetic manner in spite of his pride of + resolution—“maybe you've noticed that this place here has no + advantages for a hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “I had not, indeed. I have been very comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “When do you go?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night.” + </p> + <p> + For all his pride and fixed purpose he could not help looking eagerly in + her face. Miss Mayfield's eyes met his pleasantly and quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry to part with you so soon,” she said, as she stepped back a pace + or two with folded hands. “Of course every moment of your time now is + occupied. You must not think of wasting it on me.” + </p> + <p> + But Jeff had recovered his sad composure. “I'd like to go with you, Miss + Mayfield. It's the last time, you know,” he added simply. + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield did not reply. It was a tacit assent, however, although she + moved somewhat stiffly at his side as they walked towards the door. Quite + convinced that Jeff's resolution came from his pecuniary troubles, Miss + Mayfield was wondering if she had not better assure him of his security + from further annoyance from Dodd. Wonderful complexity of female + intellect! she was a little hurt at his ingratitude to her for a kindness + he could not possibly have known. Miss Mayfield felt that in some way she + was unjustly treated. How many of our miserable sex, incapable of + divination, have been crushed under that unreasonable feminine reproof, + “You ought to have known!” + </p> + <p> + The afternoon sun was indeed shining brightly as they stepped out before + the bleak angle of the “Half-way House”; but it failed to mitigate the + habitually practical austerity of the mountain breeze—a fact which + Miss Mayfield had never before noticed. The house was certainly bleak and + exposed; the site by no means a poetical one. She wondered if she had not + put a romance into it, and perhaps even into the man beside her, which did + not belong to either. It was a moment of dangerous doubt. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know but that you're right, Mr. Jeff,” she said finally, as they + faced the hill, and began the ascent together. “This place is a little + queer, and bleak, and—unattractive.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss,” said Jeff, with direct simplicity, “I've always wondered what + you saw in it to make you content to stay, when it would be so much + prettier, and more suitable for you at the 'Summit.'” + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield bit her lip, and was silent. After a few moments' climbing + she said, almost pettishly, “Where is this famous 'Summit'?” + </p> + <p> + Jeff stopped. They had reached the top of the hill. He pointed across an + olive-green chasm to a higher level, where, basking in the declining sun, + clustered the long rambling outbuildings around the white blinking facade + of the “Summit House.” Framed in pines and hemlocks, tender with soft gray + shadows, and nestling beyond a foreground of cultivated slope, it was a + charming rustic picture. + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield's quick eye took in its details. Her quick intellect took in + something else. She had seated herself on the road-bank, and, clasping her + knees between her locked fingers, she suddenly looked up at Jeff. “What + possessed you to come half-way up a mountain, instead of going on to the + top?” + </p> + <p> + “Poverty, miss!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield flushed a little at this practical direct answer to her + half-figurative question. However, she began to think that moral + Alpine-climbing youth might have pecuniary restrictions in their high + ambitions, and that the hero of “Excelsior” might have succumbed to more + powerful opposition than the wisdom of Age or the blandishments of Beauty. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that poverty up there is more expensive?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “But you would like to live there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + They were both silent. Miss Mayfield glanced at Jeff under the corners of + her lashes. He was leaning against a tree, absorbed in thought. Accustomed + to look upon him as a pleasing picturesque object, quite fresh, original, + and characteristic, she was somewhat disturbed to find that to-day he + presented certain other qualities which clearly did not agree with her + preconceived ideas of his condition. He had abandoned his usual large + top-boots for low shoes, and she could not help noticing that his feet + were small and slender as were his hands, albeit browned by exposure. His + ruddy color was gone too, and his face, pale with sorrow and experience, + had a new expression. His buttoned-up coat and white collar, so unlike his + usual self, also had its suggestions—which Miss Mayfield was at + first inclined to resent. Women are quick to notice and augur more or less + wisely from these small details. Nevertheless, she began in quite another + tone. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember your mother—MR.—MR.—BRIGGS?” + </p> + <p> + Jeff noticed the new epithet. “No, miss; she died when I was quite young.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father, then?” + </p> + <p> + Jeff's eye kindled a little, aggressively. “I remember HIM.” + </p> + <p> + “What was he?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Mayfield!” + </p> + <p> + “What was his business or profession?” + </p> + <p> + “He—hadn't—any!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see—a gentleman of property.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff hesitated, looked at Miss Mayfield hurriedly, colored, and did not + reply. + </p> + <p> + “And lost his property, Mr. Briggs?” With one of those rare impulses of an + overtasked gentle nature, Jeff turned upon her almost savagely. “My father + was a gambler, and shot himself at a gambling table.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield rose hurriedly. “I—I beg your pardon, Mr. Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff was silent. + </p> + <p> + “You know—you MUST know—I did not mean—” + </p> + <p> + No reply. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Jeff!” + </p> + <p> + Her little hand fluttered toward him, and lit upon his sleeve, where it + was suddenly captured and pressed passionately to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean to be thoughtless or unkind,” said Miss Mayfield, + discreetly keeping to the point, and trying weakly to disengage her hand. + “You know I wouldn't hurt your feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, Miss Mayfield.” (Another kiss.) + </p> + <p> + “I was ignorant of your history.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss.” (A kiss.) + </p> + <p> + “And if I could do anything for you, Mr. Jeff—” She stopped. + </p> + <p> + It was a very trying position. Being small, she was drawn after her hand + quite up to Jeff's shoulder, while he, assenting in monosyllables, was + parting the fingers, and kissing them separately. Reasonable discourse in + this attitude was out of the question. She had recourse to strategy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Mayfield!” + </p> + <p> + “You hurt my hand.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff dropped it instantly. Miss Mayfield put it in the pocket of her + sacque for security. Besides, it had been so bekissed that it seemed + unpleasantly conscious. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would tell me all about yourself,” she went on, with a certain + charming feminine submission of manner quite unlike her ordinary speech; + “I should like to help you. Perhaps I can. You know I am quite + independent; I mean—” + </p> + <p> + She paused, for Jeff's face betrayed no signs of sympathetic following. + </p> + <p> + “I mean I am what people call rich in my own right. I can do as I please + with my own. If any of your trouble, Mr. Jeff, arises from want of money, + or capital; if any consideration of that kind takes you away from your + home; if I could save you THAT TROUBLE, and find for you—perhaps a + little nearer—that which you are seeking, I would be so glad to do + it. You will find the world very wide, and very cold, Mr. Jeff,” she + continued, with a certain air of practical superiority quite natural to + her, but explicable to her friends and acquaintances only as the + consciousness of pecuniary independence; “and I wish you would be frank + with me. Although I am a woman, I know something of business.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be frank with you, miss,” said Jeff, turning a colorless face upon + her. “If you was ez rich as the Bank of California, and could throw your + money on any fancy or whim that struck you at the moment; if you felt you + could buy up any man and woman in California that was willing to be bought + up; and if me and my aunt were starving in the road, we wouldn't touch the + money that we hadn't earned fairly, and didn't belong to us. No, miss, I + ain't that sort o' man!” + </p> + <p> + How much of this speech, in its brusqueness and slang, was an echo of Yuba + Bill's teaching, how much of it was a part of Jeff's inward weakness, I + cannot say. He saw Miss Mayfield recoil from him. It added to his + bitterness that his thought, for the first time voiced, appeared to him by + no means as effective or powerful as he had imagined it would be, but he + could not recede from it; and there was the relief that the worst had + come, and was over now. + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield took her hand out of her pocket. “I don't think you quite + understand me, Mr. Jeff,” she said quietly; “and I HOPE I don't understand + you.” She walked stiffly at his side for a few moments, but finally took + the other side of the road. They had both turned, half unconsciously, back + again to the “Half-way House.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff felt, like all quarrel-seekers, righteous or unrighteous, the full + burden of the fight. If he could have relieved his mind, and at the next + moment leaped upon Yuba Bill's coach, and so passed away—without a + further word of explanation—all would have been well. But to walk + back with this girl, whom he had just shaken off, and who must now + thoroughly hate him, was something he had not preconceived, in that + delightful forecast of the imagination, when we determine what WE shall + say and do without the least consideration of what may be said or done to + us in return. No quarrel proceeds exactly as we expect; people have such a + way of behaving illogically! And here was Miss Mayfield, who was clearly + derelict, and who should have acted under that conviction, walking along + on the other side of the road, trailing the splendor of her parasol in the + dust like an offended goddess. + </p> + <p> + They had almost reached the house. “At what time do you go, Mr. Briggs?” + asked the young lady quietly. + </p> + <p> + “At eleven to-night, by the up stage.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect some friends by that stage—coming with my father.” + </p> + <p> + “My aunt will take good care of them,” said Jeff, a little bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt,” responded Miss Mayfield gravely; “but I was not + thinking of that. I had hoped to introduce them to you to-morrow. But I + shall not be up so late to-night. And I had better say good-by to you + now.” + </p> + <p> + She extended the unkissed hand. Jeff took it, but presently let the limp + fingers fall through his own. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you good fortune, Mr. Briggs.” + </p> + <p> + She made a grave little bow, and vanished into the house. But here, I + regret to say, her lady-like calm also vanished. She upbraided her mother + peevishly for obliging her to seek the escort of Mr. Briggs in her + necessary exercise, and flung herself with an injured air upon the sofa. + </p> + <p> + “But I thought you liked this Mr. Briggs. He seems an accommodating sort + of person.” + </p> + <p> + “Very accommodating. Going away just as we are expecting company!” + </p> + <p> + “Going away?” said Mrs. Mayfield in alarm. “Surely he must be told that we + expect some preparation for our friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Miss Mayfield quickly, “his aunt will arrange THAT.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mayfield, habitually mystified at her daughter's moods, said no more. + She, however, fulfilled her duty conscientiously by rising, throwing a + wrap over the young girl, tucking it in at her feet, and having, as it + were, drawn a charitable veil over her peculiarities, left her alone. + </p> + <p> + At half past ten the coach dashed up to the “Half-way House,” with a flash + of lights and a burst of cheery voices. Jeff, coming upon the porch, was + met by Mr. Mayfield, accompanying a lady and two gentlemen,—evidently + the guests alluded to by his daughter. Accustomed as Jeff had become to + Mr. Mayfield's patronizing superiority, it seemed unbearable now, and the + easy indifference of the guests to his own presence touched him with a new + bitterness. Here were HER friends, who were to take his place. It was a + relief to grasp Yuba Bill's large hand and stand with him alone beside the + bar. + </p> + <p> + “I'm ready to go with you to-night, Bill,” said Jeff, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + Bill put down his glass—a sign of absorbing interest. + </p> + <p> + “And these yar strangers I fetched?” + </p> + <p> + “Aunty will take care of them. I've fixed everything.” + </p> + <p> + Bill laid both his powerful hands on Jeff's shoulders, backed him against + the wall, and surveyed him with great gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Briggs's son clar through! A little off color, but the grit all thar! + Bully for you, Jeff.” He wrung Jeff's hand between his own. + </p> + <p> + “Bill!” said Jeff hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Jeff!” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't mind my getting up on the box NOW, before all the folks get + round?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon not. Thar's the box-seat all ready for ye.” + </p> + <p> + Climbing to his high perch, Jeff, indistinguishable in the darkness, + looked out upon the porch and the moving figures of the passengers, on + Bill growling out his orders to his active hostler, and on the twinkling + lights of the hotel windows. In the mystery of the night and the + bitterness of his heart, everything looked strange. There was a light in + Miss Mayfield's room, but the curtains were drawn. Once he thought they + moved, but then, fearful of the fascination of watching them, he turned + his face resolutely away. + </p> + <p> + Then, to his relief, the hour came; the passengers re-entered the coach; + Bill had mounted the box, and was slowly gathering his reins, when a + shrill voice rose from the porch. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jeff!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff leaned an anxious face out over the coach lamps. + </p> + <p> + It was Aunt Sally, breathless and on tiptoe, reaching with a letter. + “Suthin' you forgot!” Then, in a hoarse stage whisper, perfectly audible + to every one: “From HER!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff seized the letter with a burning face. The whip snapped, and the + stage plunged forward into the darkness. Presently Yuba Bill reached down, + coolly detached one of the coach lamps, and handed it to Jeff without a + word. + </p> + <p> + Jeff tore open the envelope. It contained Cyrus Parker's bill receipted, + and the writ. Another small inclosure contained ten dollars, and a few + lines written in pencil in a large masculine business hand. By the light + of the lamp Jeff read as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will forgive me for having tried to help you even in this + accidental way, before I knew how strong were your objections to help from + me. Nobody knows this but myself. Even Mr. Dodd thinks my father advanced + the money. The ten dollars the rascal would have kept, but I made him + disgorge it. I did it all while you were looking for the letter in the + woods. Pray forget all about it, and any pain you may have had from J. M.” + </p> + <p> + Frank and practical as this letter appeared to be, and, doubtless, as it + was intended to be by its writer, the reader will not fail to notice that + Miss Mayfield said nothing of having overheard Jeff's quarrel with the + deputy, and left him to infer that that functionary had betrayed him. It + was simply one of those unpleasant details not affecting the result, + usually overlooked in feminine ethics. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Jeff sat pale and dumb, crushed under the ruins of his pride + and self-love. For a moment he hated Miss Mayfield, small and triumphant! + How she must have inwardly laughed at his speech that morning! With what + refined cruelty she had saved this evidence of his humiliation, to work + her vengeance on him now. He could not stand it! He could not live under + it! He would go back and sell the house—his clothes—everything—to + pay this wicked, heartless, cruel girl, that was killing—yes, + killing— + </p> + <p> + A strong hand took the swinging-lantern from his unsteady fingers, a + strong hand possessed itself of the papers and Miss Mayfield's note, a + strong arm was drawn around him,—for his figure was swaying to and + fro, his head was giddy, and his hat had fallen off,—and a strong + voice, albeit a little husky, whispered in his ear,— + </p> + <p> + “Easy, boy! easy on the down grade. It'll be all one in a minit.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff tried to comprehend him, but his brain was whirling. + </p> + <p> + “Pull yourself together, Jeff!” said Bill, after a pause. “Thar! Look + yar!” he said suddenly. “Do you think you can drive SIX?” + </p> + <p> + The words recalled Jeff to his senses. Bill laid the six reins in his + hands. A sense of life, of activity, of POWER, came back to the young man, + as his fingers closed deliciously on the far-reaching, thrilling, living + leathern sinews that controlled the six horses, and seemed to be instinct + and magnetic with their bounding life. Jeff, leaning back against them, + felt the strong youthful tide rush back to his heart, and was himself + again. Bill, meantime, took the lamp, examined the papers, and read Miss + Mayfield's note. A grim smile stole over his face. After a pause, he said + again, “Give Blue Grass her head, Jeff. D—n it, she ain't Miss + Mayfield!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff relaxed the muscles of his wrists, so as to throw the thumb and + forefingers a trifle forward. This simple action relieved Blue Grass, + alias Miss Mayfield, and made the coach steadier and less jerky. Wonderful + co-relation of forces. + </p> + <p> + “Thar!” said Yuba Bill, quietly putting the coach lamp back in its place; + “you're better already. Thar's nothing like six horses to draw a woman out + of a man. I've knowed a case where it took eight mustangs, but it was a + mulatter from New Orleans, and they are pizen! Ye might hit up a little on + the Pinto hoss—he ain't harmin' ye. So! Now, Jeff, take your time, + and take it easy, and what's all this yer about?” + </p> + <p> + To control six fiery mustangs, and at the same time give picturesque and + affecting exposition of the subtle struggles of Love and Pride, was a + performance beyond Jeff's powers. He had recourse to an angry staccato, + which somehow seemed to him as ineffective as his previous discourse to + Miss Mayfield; he was a little incoherent, and perhaps mixed his + impressions with his facts, but he nevertheless managed to convey to Bill + some general idea of the events of the past three days. + </p> + <p> + “And she sent ye off after that letter, that wasn't thar, while she fixed + things up with Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jeff furiously. + </p> + <p> + “Ye needn't bully the Pinto colt, Jeff; he is doin' his level best. And + she snaked that ar ten dollars outer Dodd?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and sent it back to ME. To ME, Bill! At such a time as this! As if I + was dead broke!—a mere tramp. As if—” + </p> + <p> + “In course! in course!” said Bill soothingly, yet turning his head aside + to bestow a deceitful smile upon the trees that whirled beside them. “And + ye told her ye didn't want her money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bill—but it—it—it was AFTER she had done this!” + </p> + <p> + “Surely! I'll take the lines now, Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + He took them. Jeff relapsed into gloomy silence. The starlight of that + dewless Sierran night was bright and cold and passionless. There was no + moon to lead the fancy astray with its faint mysteries and suggestions; + nothing but a clear, grayish-blue twilight, with sharply silhouetted + shadows, pointed here and there with bright large-spaced constant stars. + The deep breath of the pine-woods, the faint, cool resinous spices of bay + and laurel, at last brought surcease to his wounded spirit. The blessed + weariness of exhausted youth stole tenderly on him. His head nodded, + dropped. Yuba Bill, with a grim smile, drew him to his side, enveloped him + in his blanket, and felt his head at last sink upon his own broad + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later the coach drew up at the “Summit House.” Yuba Bill did + not dismount, an unusual and disturbing circumstance that brought the + bar-keeper to the veranda. + </p> + <p> + “What's up, old man?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Sworn off your reg'lar pizen?” + </p> + <p> + “My physician,” said Bill gravely, “hez ordered me dry champagne every + three hours.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the bar-keeper lingered. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that you're dry-nussin' up there?” + </p> + <p> + I regret that I may not give Yuba Bill's literal reply. It suggested a + form of inquiry at once distant, indirect, outrageous, and impossible. + </p> + <p> + The bar-keeper flashed a lantern upon Jeff's curls and his drooping + eyelashes and mustaches. + </p> + <p> + “It's that son o' Briggs o' Tuolumne—pooty boy, ain't he?” + </p> + <p> + Bill disdained a reply. + </p> + <p> + “Played himself out down there, I reckon. Left his rifle here in pawn.” + </p> + <p> + “Young man,” said Bill gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Old man.” + </p> + <p> + “Ef you're looking for a safe investment ez will pay ye better than + forty-rod whiskey at two bits a glass, jist you hang onter that ar rifle. + It may make your fortin yet, or save ye from a drunkard's grave.” With + this ungracious pleasantry he hurried his dilatory passengers back into + the coach, cracked his whip, and was again upon the road. The lights of + the “Summit House” presently dropped here and there into the wasting + shadows of the trees. Another stretch through the close-set ranks of + pines, another dash through the opening, another whirl and rattle by + overhanging rocks, and the vehicle was swiftly descending. Bill put his + foot on the brake, threw his reins loosely on the necks of his cattle, and + looked leisurely back. The great mountain was slowly and steadily rising + between them and the valley they quitted. + </p> + <p> + And at that same moment Miss Mayfield had crept from her bed, and, with a + shawl around her pretty little figure, was pressing her eyes against a + blank window of the “Half-way House,” and wondering where HE was now. + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + The “opening” suggested by Bill was not a fortunate one. Possibly views of + business openings in the public-house line taken from the tops of + stage-coaches are not as judicious as those taken from less exalted + levels. Certain it is that the “goodwill” of the “Lone Star House” + promised little more pecuniary value than a conventional blessing. It was + in an older and more thickly settled locality than the “Half-way House;” + indeed, it was but half a mile away from Campville, famous in '49—a + place with a history and a disaster. But young communities are impatient + of settlements that through any accident fail to fulfil the extravagant + promise of their youth, and the wounded hamlet of Campville had crept into + the woods and died. The “Lone Star House” was an attempt to woo the + passing travelers from another point; but its road led to Campville, and + was already touched by its dry-rot. Bill, who honestly conceived that the + infusion of fresh young blood like Jeff's into the stagnant current would + quicken it, had to confess his disappointment. “I thought ye could put + some go into the shanty, Jeff,” said Bill, “and make it lively and + invitin'!” But the lack of vitality was not in the landlord, but in the + guests. The regular customers were disappointed, vacant, hopeless men, who + gathered listlessly on the veranda, and talked vaguely of the past. Their + hollow-eyed, feeble impotency affected the stranger, even as it checked + all ambition among themselves. Do what Jeff might, the habits of the + locality were stronger than his individuality; the dead ghosts of the past + Campville held their property by invisible mortmain. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this struggle the “Half-way House” was sold. Spite of + Bill's prediction, the proceeds barely paid Jeff's debts. Aunt Sally + prevented any troublesome consideration of HER future, by applying a small + surplus of profit to the expenses of a journey back to her relatives in + Kentucky. She wrote Jeff a letter of cheerless instruction, reminded him + of the fulfillment of her worst prophecies regarding him, but begged him, + in her absence, to rely solely upon the “Word.” “For the sperrit killeth,” + she added vaguely. Whether this referred figuratively to Jeff's business, + he did not stop to consider. He was more interested in the information + that the Mayfields had removed to the “Summit Hotel” two days after he had + left. “She allowed it was for her health's sake,” continued Aunt Sally, + “but I reckon it's another name for one of them city fellers who j'ined + their party and is keepin' company with her now. They talk o' property and + stocks and sich worldly trifles all the time, and it's easy to see their + idees is set together. It's allowed at the Forks that Mr. Mayfield paid + Parker's bill for you. I said it wasn't so, fur ye'd hev told me; but if + it is so, Jeff, and ye didn't tell me, it was for only one puppos, and + that wos that Mayfield bribed ye to break off with his darter! That was + WHY you went off so suddent, 'like a thief in the night,' and why Miss + Mayfield never let on a word about you after you left—not even your + name!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff crushed the letter between his fingers, and, going behind the bar, + poured out half a glass of stimulant and drank it. It was not the first + time since he came to the “Lone Star House” that he had found this easy + relief from his present thought; it was not the first time that he had + found this dangerous ally of sure and swift service in bringing him up or + down to that level of his dreary, sodden guests, so necessary to his + trade. Jeff had not the excuse of the inborn drunkard's taste. He was + impulsive and extreme. At the end of the four weeks he came out on the + porch one night as Bill drew up. “You must take me from this place + to-night,” he said, in a broken voice scarce like his own. “When we're on + the road we can arrange matters, but I must go to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “But where?” asked Bill. + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere! Only I must go from here. I shall go if I have to walk.” + </p> + <p> + Bill looked hard at the young man. His face was flushed, his eyes + blood-shot, and his hands trembled, not with excitement, but with a + vacant, purposeless impotence. Bill looked a little relieved. “You've been + drinking too hard. Jeff, I thought better of ye than that!” + </p> + <p> + “I think better of MYSELF than that,” said Jeff, with a certain wild, + half-hysterical laugh, “and that is why I want to go. Don't be alarmed, + Bill,” he added; “I have strength enough to save myself, and I shall! But + it isn't worth the struggle HERE.” + </p> + <p> + He left the “Lone Star House” that night. He would, he said to Bill, go on + to Sacramento, and try to get a situation as clerk or porter there; he was + too old to learn a trade. He said little more. When, after forty-eight + hours' inability to eat, drink, or sleep, Bill, looking at his haggard + face and staring eyes, pressed him to partake, medicinally, from a certain + black bottle, Jeff gently put it aside, and saying, with a sad smile, “I + can get along without it; I've gone through more than this,” left his + mentor in a state of mingled admiration and perplexity. + </p> + <p> + At Sacramento he found a commercial “opening.” But certain habits of + personal independence, combined with a direct truthfulness and simplicity, + were not conducive to business advancement. He was frank, and in his + habits impulsive and selfishly outspoken. His employer, a good-natured + man, successful in his way, anxious to serve his own interest and Jeff's + equally, strove and labored with him, but in vain. His employer's wife, a + still more good-natured woman, successful in her way, and equally anxious + to serve Jeff's interests and her own, also strove with him as + unsuccessfully. At the end of a month he discharged his employer, after a + simple, boyish, utterly unbusiness-like interview, and secretly tore up + his wife's letter. “I don't know what to make of that chap,” said the + husband to his wife; “he's about as civilized as an Injun.” “And as + conceited,” added the lady. + </p> + <p> + Howbeit he took his conceit, his sorrows, his curls, mustaches, broad + shoulders, and fifty dollars into humble lodgings in a back street. The + days succeeding this were the most restful he had passed since he left the + “Half-way House.” To wander through the town, half conscious of its + strangeness and novel bustling life, and to dream of a higher and nobler + future with Miss Mayfield—to feel no responsibility but that of + waiting—was, I regret to say, a pleasure to him. He made no + acquaintances except among the poorer people and the children. He was + sometimes hungry, he was always poorly clad, but these facts carried no + degradation with them now. He read much, and in his way—Jeff's way—tried + to improve his mind; his recent commercial experience had shown him + various infelicities in his speech and accent. He learned to correct + certain provincialisms. He was conscious that Miss Mayfield must have + noticed them, yet his odd irrational pride kept him from ever regretting + them, if they had offered a possible excuse for her treatment of him. + </p> + <p> + On one of these nights his steps chanced to lead him into a + gambling-saloon. The place had offered no temptation to him; his dealings + with the goddess Chance had been of less active nature. Nevertheless he + placed his last five dollars on the turn of a card. He won. He won + repeatedly; his gains had reached a considerable sum when, flushed, + excited, and absorbed, he was suddenly conscious that he had become the + centre of observation at the table. Looking up, he saw that the dealer had + paused, and, with the cards in his motionless fingers, was gazing at him + with fixed eyes and a white face. + </p> + <p> + Jeff rose and passed hurriedly to his side. “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + The gambler shrunk slightly as he approached. “What's your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Briggs.” + </p> + <p> + “God! I knew it! How much have you got there?” he continued, in a quick + whisper, pointing to Jeff's winnings. + </p> + <p> + “Five hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you double if you'll get up and quit the board!” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Jeff haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” repeated the man fiercely; “why? Well, your father shot himself + thar, where you're sittin', at this table;” and he added, with a + half-forced, half-hysterical laugh, “HE'S PLAYIN' AT ME OVER YOUR + SHOULDERS!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff lifted a face as colorless as the gambler's own, went back to his + seat, and placed his entire gains on a single card. The gambler looked at + him nervously, but dealt. There was a pause, a slight movement where Jeff + stood, and then a simultaneous cry from the players as they turned towards + him. But his seat was vacant. “Run after him! Call him back! HE'S WON + AGAIN!” But he had vanished utterly. + </p> + <p> + HOW he left, or what indeed followed, he never clearly remembered. His + movements must have been automatic, for when, two hours later, he found + himself at the “Pioneer” coach office, with his carpet-bag and blankets by + his side, he could not recall how or why he had come! He had a dumb + impression that he had barely escaped some dire calamity,—rather + that he had only temporarily averted it,—and that he was still in + the shadow of some impending catastrophe of destiny. He must go somewhere, + he must do something to be saved! He had no money, he had no friends; even + Yuba Bill had been transferred to another route, miles away. Yet, in the + midst of this stupefaction, it was a part of his strange mental condition + that trivial details of Miss Mayfield's face and figure, and even apparel, + were constantly before him, to the exclusion of consecutive thought. A + collar she used to wear, a ribbon she had once tied around her waist, a + blue vein in her dropped eyelid, a curve in her soft, full, bird-like + throat, the arch of her in-step in her small boots—all these were + plainer to him than the future, or even the present. But a voice in his + ear, a figure before his abstracted eyes, at last broke upon his reverie. + </p> + <p> + “Jeff Briggs!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff mechanically took the outstretched hand of a young clerk of the + Pioneer Coach Company, who had once accompanied Yuba Bill and stopped at + the “Half-way House.” He endeavored to collect his thoughts; here seemed + to be an opportunity to go somewhere! + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing now?” said the young man briskly. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Jeff simply. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see—going home!” + </p> + <p> + Home! the word stung sharply through Jeff's benumbed consciousness. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he stammered, “that is—” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Jeff,” broke in the young man, “I've got a chance for you that + don't fall in a man's way every day. Wells, Fargo & Co.'s treasure + messenger from Robinson's Ferry to Mempheys has slipped out. The place is + vacant. I reckon I can get it for you.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “Now—to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then.” + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes they were in the company's office, where its manager, a man + famous in those days for his boldness and shrewdness, still lingered in + the dispatch of business. + </p> + <p> + The young clerk briefly but deferentially stated certain facts. A few + questions and answers followed, of which Jeff heard only the words + “Tuolumne” and “Yuba Bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Mr. Briggs. Good-night, Roberts.” + </p> + <p> + The young clerk, with an encouraging smile at Jeff, bowed himself out as + the manager seated himself at his desk and began to write. + </p> + <p> + “You know the country pretty well between the Fork and the Summit, Mr. + Briggs?” he said, without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “I lived there,” said Jeff. + </p> + <p> + “That was some months ago, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Six months,” said Jeff, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “It's changed for the worse since your house was shut up. There's a long + stretch of unsettled country infested by bad characters.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff sat silent. “Briggs.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “The last man but one who preceded you was shot by road agents.” * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Highway robbers. +</pre> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “We lost sixty thousand dollars up there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Your father was Briggs of Tuolumne?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” Jeff's head dropped, but, glancing shyly up, he saw a pleasant + smile on his questioner's face. He was still writing rapidly, but was + apparently enjoying at the same time some pleasant recollection. + </p> + <p> + “Your father and I lost nearly sixty thousand dollars together one night, + ten years ago, when we were both younger.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Jeff dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “But it was OUR OWN MONEY, Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Here's your appointment,” he said briefly, throwing away his pen, folding + what he had written, and handing it to Jeff. It was the first time that he + had looked at him since he entered. He now held out his hand, grasped + Jeff's, and said, “Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + It was late the next evening when Jeff drew up at the coach office at + Robinson's Ferry, where he was to await the coming of the Summit coach. + His mind, lifted only temporarily out of its denumbed condition during his + interview with the manager, again fell back into its dull abstraction. + Fully embarked upon his dangerous journey, accepting all the meaning of + the trust imposed upon him, he was yet vaguely conscious that he did not + realize its full importance. He had neither the dread nor the stimulation + of coming danger. He had faced death before in the boyish confidence of + animal spirits; his pulse now was scarcely stirred with anticipation. Once + or twice before, in the extravagance of his passion, he had imagined + himself rescuing Miss Mayfield from danger, or even dying for her. During + his journey his mind had dwelt fully and minutely on every detail of their + brief acquaintance; she was continually before him, the tones of her voice + were in his ears, the suggestive touch of her fingers, the thrill that his + lips had felt when he kissed them—all were with him now, but only as + a memory. In his coming fate, in his future life, he saw her not. He + believed it was a premonition of coming death. + </p> + <p> + He made a few preparations. The company's agent had told him that the + treasure, letters, and dispatches, which had accumulated to a considerable + amount, would be handed to him on the box; and that the arms and + ammunition were in the boot. A less courageous and determined man might + have been affected by the cold, practical brutality of certain advice and + instructions offered him by the agent, but Jeff recognized this compliment + to his determination, even before the agent concluded his speech by + saying, “But I reckon they knew what they were about in the lower office + when they sent YOU up. I dare say you kin give me p'ints, ef ye cared to, + for all ye're soft spoken. There are only four passengers booked through; + we hev to be a little partikler, suspectin' spies! Two of the four ye kin + depend upon to get the top o' their d——d heads blowed off the + first fire,” he added grimly. + </p> + <p> + At ten o'clock the Summit coach flashed, rattled, glittered, and snapped, + like a disorganized firework, up to the door of the company's office. A + familiar figure, but more than usually truculent and aggressive, slowly + descended with violent oaths from the box. Without seeing Jeff, it strode + into the office. + </p> + <p> + “Now then,” said Yuba Bill, addressing the agent, “whar's that + God-forsaken fool that Wells, Fargo & Co. hev sent up yar to take + charge o' their treasure? Because I'd like to introduce him to the + champion idgit of Calaveras County, that's been selected to go to h-ll + with him; and that's me, Yuba Bill! P'int him out. Don't keep me waitin'!” + </p> + <p> + The agent grinned and pointed to Jeff. + </p> + <p> + Both men recoiled in astonishment. Yuba Bill was the first to recover his + speech. + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie!” he roared; “or somebody has been putting up a job on ye, + Jeff! Because I've been twenty years in the service, and am such a nat'ral + born mule that when the company strokes my back and sez, 'You're the on'y + mule we kin trust, Bill,' I starts up and goes out as a blasted wooden + figgerhead for road agents to lay fur and practice on, it don't follow + that YOU'VE any call to go.” + </p> + <p> + “It was my own seeking, Bill,” said Jeff, with one of his old, sweet, + boyish smiles. “I didn't know YOU were to drive. But you're not going back + on me now, Bill, are you? you're not going to send me off with another + volunteer?” + </p> + <p> + “That be d——d!” growled Bill. Nevertheless, for ten minutes he + reviled the Pioneer Coach Company with picturesque imprecation, tendered + his resignation repeatedly to the agent, and at the end of that time, as + everybody expected, mounted the box, and with a final malediction, + involving the whole settlement, was off. + </p> + <p> + On the road, Jeff, in a few hurried sentences, told his story. Bill + scarcely seemed to listen. “Look yar, Jeff,” he said suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bill.” + </p> + <p> + “If the worst happens, and ye go under, you'll tell your father, IF I + DON'T HAPPEN TO SEE HIM FIRST, it wasn't no job of mine, and I did my best + to get ye out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jeff, in a faint voice. + </p> + <p> + “It mayn't be so bad,” said Bill, softening; “they KNOW, d—n 'em, + we've got a pile aboard, ez well as if they seed that agent gin it ye, but + they also know we've pre-pared!” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't thinking of that, Bill; I was thinking of my father.” And he + told Bill of the gambling episode at Sacramento. + </p> + <p> + “D'ye mean to say ye left them hounds with a thousand dollars of yer + hard-earned—” + </p> + <p> + “Gambling gains, Bill,” interrupted Jeff quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly! Well!” Bill subsided into an incoherent growl. After a few + moments' pause, he began again. “Yer ready as ye used to be with a + six-shooter, Jeff, time's when ye was a boy, and I uster chuck + half-dollars in the air fur ye to make warts on?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon,” said Jeff, with a faint smile. + </p> + <p> + “Thar's two p'ints on the road to be looked to: the woods beyond the + blacksmith's shop that uster be; the fringe of alder and buckeye by the + crossing below your house—p'ints where they kin fetch you without a + show. Thar's two ways o' meetin' them thar. One way ez to pull up and + trust to luck and brag. The other way is to whip up and yell, and send the + whole six kiting by like h-ll!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jeff. + </p> + <p> + “The only drawback to that plan is this: the road lies along the edge of a + precipice, straight down a thousand feet into the river. Ef these devils + get a shot into any one o' the six and it DROPS, the coach turns sharp + off, and down we go, the whole kerboodle of us, plump into the + Stanislaus!” + </p> + <p> + “AND THEY DON'T GET THE MONEY,” said Jeff quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no!” replied Yuba Bill, staring at Jeff, whose face was set as a + flint against the darkness. “I should reckon not.” He then drew a long + breath, glanced at Jeff again, and said between his teeth, “Well, I'm d——d!” + </p> + <p> + At the next station they changed horses, Bill personally supervising, + especially as regarded the welfare and proper condition of Blue Grass, who + here was brought out as a leader. Formerly there was no change of horses + at this station, and this novelty excited Jeff's remark. “These yar chaps + say thar's no station at the Summit now,” growled Bill, in explanation; + “the hotel is closed, and it's all private property, bought by some chap + from 'Frisco. Thar ought to be a law agin such doin's!” + </p> + <p> + This suggested obliteration of the last traces of Miss Mayfield seemed to + Jeff as only a corroboration of his premonition. He should never hear from + her again! Yet to have stood under the roof that last sheltered her; to, + perchance, have met some one who had seen her later—this was a fancy + that had haunted him on his journey. It was all over now. Perhaps it was + for the best. + </p> + <p> + With the sinking behind of the lights of the station, the occupants of the + coach knew that the dangerous part of the journey had begun. The two + guards in the coach had already made obtrusive and warlike preparations, + to the ill-concealed disgust of Yuba Bill. “I'd hev been willin' to get + through this yar job without the burnin' of powder, but ef any of them + devils ez is waitin' for us would be content with a shot at them fancy + policemen inside, I'd pull up and give 'em a show!” Having relieved his + mind, Bill said no more, and the two men relapsed into silence. The moon + shone brightly and peacefully, a fact pointed out by Bill as unfavorably + deepening the shadows of the woods, and bringing the coach and the road + into greater relief. + </p> + <p> + An hour passed. What were Yuba Bill's thoughts are not a part of this + history; that they were turbulent and aggressive might be inferred from + the occasional growls and interjected oaths that broke from his lips. But + Jeff, strange anomaly, due perhaps to youth and moonlight, was wrapped in + a sensuous dream of Miss Mayfield, of the scent of her dark hair as he had + drawn her to his side, of the outlines of her sweet form, that had for a + moment lightly touched his own—of anything, I fear, but the death he + believed he was hastening to. But— + </p> + <p> + “Jeff,” said Bill, in an unmistakable tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jeff. + </p> + <p> + “THAT AR CLUMP O' BUCKEYE ON THE RIDGE! Ready there!” (Leaning over the + box, to the guards within.) A responsive rustle in the coach, which now + bounded forward as if instinct with life and intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “Jeff,” said Bill, in an odd, altered voice, “take the lines a minit.” + Jeff took them. Bill stooped towards the boot. A peaceful moment! A + peaceful outlook from the coach; the white moonlit road stretching to the + ridge, no noise but the steady gallop of the horses! + </p> + <p> + Then a yellow flash, breaking from the darkness of the buckeye; a crack + like the snap of a whip; Yuba Bill steadying himself for a moment, and + then dropping at Jeff's feet! + </p> + <p> + “They got me, Jeff! But—I DRAWED THEIR FIRE! Don't drop the lines! + Don't speak! For—they—think I'm YOU and you ME!” + </p> + <p> + The flash had illuminated Jeff as to the danger, as to Bill's sacrifice, + but above all, and overwhelming all, to a thrilling sense of his own power + and ability. + </p> + <p> + Yet he sat like a statue. Six masked figures had appeared from the very + ground, clinging to the bits of the horses. The coach stopped. Two wild + purposeless shots—the first and last fired by the guards—were + answered by the muzzle of six rifles pointed into the windows, and the + passengers foolishly and impotently filed out into the road. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Bill,” said a voice, which Jeff instantly recognized as the + blacksmith's, “we won't keep ye long. So hand down the treasure.” + </p> + <p> + The man's foot was on the wheel; in another instant he would be beside + Jeff, and discovery was certain. Jeff leaned over and unhooked the coach + lamp, as if to assist him with its light. As if in turning, he STUMBLED, + broke the lamp, ignited the kerosene, and scattered the wick and blazing + fluid over the haunches of the wheelers! The maddened animals gave one + wild plunge forwards, the coach followed twice its length, throwing the + blacksmith under its wheels, and driving the other horses towards the + bank. But as the lamp broke in Jeff's right hand, his practiced left hand + discharged its hidden Derringer at the head of the robber who had held the + bit of Blue Grass, and, throwing the useless weapon away, he laid the whip + smartly on her back. She leaped forward madly, dragging the other leaders + with her, and in the next moment they were free and wildly careering down + the grade. + </p> + <p> + A dozen shots followed them. The men were protected by the coach, but Yuba + Bill groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Are you hit again?” asked Jeff hastily. He had forgotten his saviour. + </p> + <p> + “No; but the horses are! I felt 'em! Look at 'em, Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff had gathered up the almost useless reins. The horses were running + away; but Blue Grass was limping. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake,” said Bill, desperately dragging his wounded figure above + the dash-board, “keep her up! LIFT HER UP, Jeff, till we pass the curve. + Don't let her drop, or we're—” + </p> + <p> + “Can you hold the reins?” said Jeff quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Give 'em here!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff passed them to the wounded man. Then, with his bowie-knife between + his teeth, he leaped over the dash-board on the backs of the wheelers. He + extinguished the blazing drops that the wind had not blown out of their + smarting haunches, and with the skill and instinct of a Mexican vaquero, + made his way over their turbulent tossing backs to Blue Grass, cut her + traces and reins, and as the vehicle neared the curve, with a sharp lash, + drove her to the bank, where she sank even as the coach darted by. Bill + uttered a feeble “Hurrah!” but at the same moment the reins dropped from + his fingers, and he sank at the bottom of the boot. + </p> + <p> + Riding postilion-wise, Jeff could control the horses. The dangerous curve + was passed, but not the possibility of pursuit. The single leader he was + bestriding was panting—more than that, he was SWEATING, and from the + evidence of Jeff's hands, sweating BLOOD! Back of his shoulder was a + jagged hole, from which his life-blood was welling. The off-wheel horse + was limping too. That last volley was no foolish outburst of useless rage, + but was deliberate and premeditated skill. Jeff drew the reins, and as the + coach stopped, the horse he was riding fell dead. Into the silence that + followed broke the measured beat of horses' hoofs on the road above. He + was pursued! + </p> + <p> + To select the best horse of the remaining unscathed three, to break open + the boot and place the treasure on his back, and to abandon and leave the + senseless Bill lying there, was the unhesitating work of a moment. Great + heroes and great lovers are invariably one-ideaed men, and Jeff was at + that moment both. + </p> + <p> + Eighty thousand dollars in gold-dust and Jeff's weight was a handicap. + Nevertheless he flew forward like the wind. Presently he fell to + listening. A certain hoof-beat in the rear was growing more distinct. A + bitter thought flashed through his mind. He looked back. Over the hill + appeared the foremost of his pursuers. It was the blacksmith, mounted on + the fleetest horse in the county—Jeff's OWN horse—Rabbit! + </p> + <p> + But there are compensations in all new trials. As Jeff faced round again, + he saw he had reached the open table-land, and the bleak walls and + ghastly, untenanted windows of the “Half-way House” rose before him in the + distance. Jeff was master of the ground here! He was entering the shadow + of the woods—Miss Mayfield's woods! and there was a cut off from the + road, and a bridle-path, known only to himself, hard by. To find it, leap + the roadside ditch, dash through the thicket, and rein up by the road + again, was swiftly done. + </p> + <p> + Take a gentle woman, betray her trust, outrage her best feelings, drive + her into a corner, and you have a fury! Take a gentle, trustful man, abuse + him, show him the folly of this gentleness and kindness, prove to him that + it is weakness, drive him into a corner, and you have a savage! And it was + this savage, with an Indian's memory, and an Indian's eye and ear, that + suddenly confronted the blacksmith. + </p> + <p> + What more! A single shot from a trained hand and one-ideaed intellect + settled the blacksmith's business, and temporarily ended this Iliad! I say + temporarily, for Mr. Dodd, formerly deputy-sheriff, prudently pulled up at + the top of the hill, and observing his principal bend his head forwards + and act like a drunken man, until he reeled, limp and sideways, from the + saddle, and noticing further that Jeff took his place with a well-filled + saddle-bag, concluded to follow cautiously and unobtrusively in the rear. + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + But Jeff saw him not. With mind and will bent on one object—to reach + the first habitation, the “Summit,” and send back help and assistance to + his wounded comrade—he urged Rabbit forward. The mare knew her + rider, but he had no time for caresses. Through the smarting of his hands + he had only just noticed that they were badly burned, and the skin was + peeling from them; he had confounded the blood that was flowing from a cut + on his scalp, with that from the wounded horse. It was one hour yet to the + “Summit,” but the road was good, the moon was bright, he knew what Rabbit + could do, and it was not yet ten o'clock. + </p> + <p> + As the white outbuildings and irregular outlines of the “Summit House” + began to be visible, Jeff felt a singular return of his former dreamy + abstraction. The hour of peril, anger, and excitement he had just passed + through seemed something of years ago, or rather to be obliterated with + all else that had passed since he had looked upon that scene. Yet it was + all changed—strangely changed! What Jeff had taken for the white, + wooden barns and outhouses were greenhouses and conservatories. The + “Summit Hotel” was a picturesque villa, nestling in the self-same trees, + but approached through cultivated fields, dwellings of laborers, parklike + gates and walls, and all the bountiful appointments of wealth and + security. Jeff thought of Yuba Bill's malediction, and understood it as he + gazed. + </p> + <p> + The barking of dogs announced his near approach to the principal entrance. + Lights were still burning in the upper windows of the house and its + offices. He was at once surrounded by the strange medley of a Californian + ranchero's service, peons, Chinese, and vaqueros. Jeff briefly stated his + business. “Ah, Carrajo!” This was a matter for the major-domo, or, better, + the padrone—Wilson! But the padrone, Wilson, called out by the + tumult, appeared in person—a handsome, resolute, middle-aged man, + who, in a twinkling, dispersed the group to barn and stable with a dozen + orders of preparation, and then turned to Jeff. + </p> + <p> + “You are hurt; come in.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff followed him dazedly into the house. The same sense of remote + abstraction, of vague dreaminess, was overcoming him. He resented it, and + fought against it, but in vain; he was only half conscious that his host + had bathed his head and given him some slight restorative, had said + something to him soothingly, and had left him. Jeff wondered if he had + fainted, or was about to faint,—he had a nervous dread of that + womanish weakness,—or if he were really hurt worse than he believed. + He tried to master himself and grasp the situation by minutely examining + the room. It was luxuriously furnished; Jeff had but once before sat in + such an arm-chair as the one that half embraced him, and as a boy he had + dim recollections of a life like this, of which his father was part. To + poor Jeff, with his throbbing head, his smarting hands, and his lapsing + moments of half forgetfulness, this seemed to be a return of his old + premonition. There was a vague perfume in the room, like that which he + remembered when he was in the woods with Miss Mayfield. He believed he was + growing faint again, and was about to rise, when the door opened behind + him. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything we can do for you? Mr. Wilson has gone to seek your + friend, and has sent Manuel for a doctor.” + </p> + <p> + HER voice! He rose hurriedly, turned; SHE was standing in the doorway! + </p> + <p> + She uttered a slight cry, turned very pale, advanced towards him, stopped + and leaned against the chimney-piece. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know it was YOU.” + </p> + <p> + With her actual presence Jeff's dream and weakness fled. He rose up before + her, his old bashful, stammering, awkward self. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know YOU lived here, Miss Mayfield.” + </p> + <p> + “If you had sent word you were coming,” said Miss Mayfield, recovering her + color brightly in one cheek. + </p> + <p> + The possibility of having sent a messenger in advance to advise Miss + Mayfield of his projected visit did not strike Jeff as ridiculous. Your + true lover is far beyond such trivialities. He accepted the rebuke meekly. + He said he was sorry. + </p> + <p> + “You might have known it.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Miss Mayfield?” + </p> + <p> + “That I was here, if you WISHED to know.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff did not reply. He bowed his head and clasped his burned hands + together. Miss Mayfield saw their raw surfaces, saw the ugly cut on his + head, pitied him, but went on hastily, with both cheeks burning, to say, + womanlike, what was then deepest in her heart: + </p> + <p> + “My brother-in-law told me your adventure; but I did not know until I + entered this room that the gentleman I wished to help was one who had once + rejected my assistance, who had misunderstood me, and cruelly insulted me! + Oh, forgive me, Mr. Briggs” (Jeff had risen). “I did not mean THAT. But, + Mr. Jeff—Jeff—oh!” (She had caught his tortured hand and had + wrung a movement of pain from him.) “Oh, dear! what did I do now? But Mr. + Jeff, after what has passed, after what you said to me when you went away, + when you were at that dreadful place, Campville, when you were two months + in Sacramento, you might—YOU OUGHT TO HAVE LET ME KNOW IT!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff turned. Her face, more beautiful than he had ever seen it, alive and + eloquent with every thought that her woman's speech but half expressed, + was very near his—so near, that under her honest eyes the wretched + scales fell from his own, his self-wrought shackles crumbled away, and he + dropped upon his knees at her feet as she sank into the chair he had + quitted. Both his hands were grasped in her own. + </p> + <p> + “YOU went away, and I STAYED,” she said reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “I had no home, Miss Mayfield.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor had I. I had to buy this,” she said, with a delicious simplicity; + “and bring a family here too,” she added, “in case YOU”—she stopped, + with a slight color. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” said Jeff, burying his face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + “Jessie.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think you were a LITTLE—just a little—mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield uttered a faint sigh. He looked into her anxious cheeks and + eyes, his arm stole round her; their lips met for the first time in one + long lingering kiss. Then, I fear, for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “Jeff,” said Miss Mayfield, suddenly becoming practical and sweetly + possessory, “you must have your hands bound up in cotton.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jeff cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “And you must go instantly to bed.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff stared. + </p> + <p> + “Because my sister will think it very late for me to be sitting up with a + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + The idea that Miss Mayfield was responsible to anybody was something new + to Jeff. But he said hastily, “I must stay and wait for Bill. He risked + his life for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! You must tell me all about it. I may wait for THAT!” + </p> + <p> + Jeff possessed himself of the chair; in some way he also possessed himself + of Miss Mayfield without entirely dispossessing her. Then he told his + story. He hesitated over the episode of the blacksmith. “I'm afraid I + killed him, Jessie.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Mayfield betrayed little concern at this possible extreme measure + with a dangerous neighbor. “He cut your head, Jeff,” she said, passing her + little hand through his curls. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Jeff hastily, “that must have been done BEFORE.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Miss Mayfield conclusively, “he would if he'd dared. And you + brought off that wretched money in spite of him. Poor dear Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jeff, kissing her. + </p> + <p> + “Where is it?” asked Jessie, looking round the room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just out there!” + </p> + <p> + “Out where?” + </p> + <p> + “On my horse, you know, outside the door,” continued Jeff, a little + uneasily, as he rose. “I'll go and—” + </p> + <p> + “You careless boy,” said Miss Mayfield, jumping up, “I'll go with you.” + </p> + <p> + They passed out on the porch together, holding each other's hands, like + children. The forgotten Rabbit was not there. Miss Mayfield called a + vaquero. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!—the caballero's horse. Of a certainty the other caballero + had taken it!” + </p> + <p> + “The other caballero!” gasped Jeff. + </p> + <p> + “Si, senor. The one who arrived with you, or a moment, the very next + moment, after you. 'Your friend,' he said.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff staggered against the porch, and cast one despairing reproachful look + at Miss Mayfield. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jeff! Jeff! don't look so. I know I ought not to have kept you! It's + a mistake, Jeff, believe me.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no mistake,” said Jeff hoarsely. “Go!” he said, turning to the + vaquero, “go!—bring—” But his speech failed. He attempted to + gesticulate with his hands, ran forward a few steps, staggered, and fell + fainting on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Help me with the caballero into the blue room,” said Miss Mayfield, white + as Jeff. “And hark ye, Manuel! You know every ruffian, man or woman, on + this road. That horse and those saddle-bags must be here to-morrow, if you + have to pay DOUBLE WHAT THEY'RE WORTH!” + </p> + <p> + “Si, senora.” + </p> + <p> + Jeff went off into fever, into delirium, into helpless stupor. From time + to time he moaned “Bill” and “the treasure.” On the third day, in a lucid + interval, as he lay staring at the wall, Miss Mayfield put in his hand a + letter from the company, acknowledging the receipt of the treasure, + thanking him for his zeal, and inclosing a handsome check. + </p> + <p> + Jeff sat up, and put his hands to his head. + </p> + <p> + “I told you it was taken by mistake, and was easily found,” said Miss + Mayfield, “didn't I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—and Bill?” + </p> + <p> + “You know he is so much better that he expects to leave us next week.” + </p> + <p> + “And—Jessie!” + </p> + <p> + “There—go to sleep!” + </p> + <p> + At the end of a week she introduced Jeff to her sister-in-law, having + previously run her fingers through his hair to insure that becomingness to + his curls which would better indicate his moral character; and spoke of + him as one of her oldest Californian friends. + </p> + <p> + At the end of two weeks she again presented him as her affianced husband—a + long engagement of a year being just passed. Mr. Wilson, who was bored by + the mountain life, undertaken to please his rich wife and richer sister, + saw a chance of escape here, and bore willing testimony to the distant Mr. + and Mrs. Mayfield of the excellence of Miss Jessie's choice. And Yuba Bill + was Jeff's best man. + </p> + <p> + The name of Briggs remained a power in Tuolumne and Calaveras County. Mr. + and Mrs. Briggs never had but one word of disagreement or discussion. One + day, Jeff, looking over some old accounts of his wife's, found an + unreceipted, unvouched for expenditure of twenty thousand dollars. “What + is this for, Jessie?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's all right, Jeff!” + </p> + <p> + But here the now business-like and practical Mr. Briggs, father of a + family, felt called upon to make some general remarks regarding the + necessity of exactitude in accounts, etc. + </p> + <p> + “But I'd rather not tell you, Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + “But you ought to, Jessie.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, dear, it was to get those saddle-bags of yours from that + rascal, Dodd,” said little Mrs. Briggs meekly. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jeff Briggs's Love Story, by Bret Harte + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEFF BRIGGS'S LOVE STORY *** + +***** This file should be named 2695-h.htm or 2695-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/9/2695/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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