"I was passin' by," he began, by way of apology, "and I thought I'djust step in and see how things was gittin' on with Tennessee thar,--mypardner. It's a hot night. I disremember any sich weather before on theBar."
He paused a moment, but nobody volunteering any other meteorologicalrecollection, he again had recourse to his pocket-handkerchief, and forsome moments mopped his face diligently.
"Have you anything to say on behalf of the prisoner?" said the Judgefinally.
"Thet's it," said Tennessee's Partner, in a tone of relief. "I come yaras Tennessee's pardner,--knowing him nigh on four year, off and on, wetand dry, in luck and out o' luck. His ways ain't aller my ways, but tharain't any p'ints in that young man, thar ain't any liveliness ashe's been up to, as I don't know. And you sez to me, sezyou,--confidential-like, and between man and man,--sez you, 'Do you knowanything in his behalf?' and I sez to you, sez I,--confidential-like, asbetween man and man,--'What should a man know of his pardner?'"
"Is this all you have to say?" asked the Judge impatiently, feeling,perhaps, that a dangerous sympathy of humor was beginning to humanizethe court.
"Thet's so," continued Tennessee's Partner. "It ain't for me to sayanything agin' him. And now, what's the case? Here's Tennessee wantsmoney, wants it bad, and doesn't like to ask it of his old pardner.Well, what does Tennessee do? He lays for a stranger, and he fetchesthat stranger; and you lays for _him_, and you fetches _him_; and thehonors is easy. And I put it to you, bein' a fa'r-minded man, and toyou, gentlemen all, as fa'r-minded men, ef this isn't so."
"Prisoner," said the Judge, interrupting, "have you any questions to askthis man?"
"No! no!" continued Tennessee's Partner hastily. "I play this yer handalone. To come down to the bed-rock, it's just this: Tennessee, thar,has played it pretty rough and expensive-like on a stranger, and onthis yer camp. And now, what's the fair thing? Some would say more, somewould say less. Here's seventeen hundred dollars in coarse gold and awatch,--it's about all my pile,--and call it square!" And before ahand could be raised to prevent him, he had emptied the contents of thecarpetbag upon the table.
For a moment his life was in jeopardy. One or two men sprang to theirfeet, several hands groped for hidden weapons, and a suggestion to"throw him from the window" was only overridden by a gesture from theJudge. Tennessee laughed. And apparently oblivious of the excitement,Tennessee's Partner improved the opportunity to mop his face againwith his handkerchief. When order was restored, and the man was madeto understand, by the use of forcible figures and rhetoric, thatTennessee's offense could not be condoned by money, his face took a moreserious and sanguinary hue, and those who were nearest to him noticedthat his rough hand trembled slightly on the table. He hesitated amoment as he slowly returned the gold to the carpetbag, as if he hadnot yet entirely caught the elevated sense of justice which swayed thetribunal, and was perplexed with the belief that he had not offeredenough. Then he turned to the Judge, and saying, "This yer is a lonehand, played alone, and without my pardner," he bowed to the jury andwas about to withdraw, when the Judge called him back:--
"If you have anything to say to Tennessee, you had better say it now."
For the first time that evening the eyes of the prisoner and his strangeadvocate met. Tennessee smiled, showed his white teeth, and saying,"Euchred, old man!" held out his hand. Tennessee's Partner took it inhis own, and saying, "I just dropped in as I was passin' to see howthings was gettin' on," let the hand passively fall, and adding that"it was a warm night," again mopped his face with his handkerchief, andwithout another word withdrew.
The two men never again met each other alive. For the unparalleledinsult of a bribe offered to Judge Lynch--who, whether bigoted, weak,or narrow, was at least incorruptible--firmly fixed in the mind of thatmythical personage any wavering determination of Tennessee's fate; andat the break of day he was marched, closely guarded, to meet it at thetop of Marley's Hill.
How he met it, how cool he was, how he refused to say anything, howperfect were the arrangements of the committee, were all duly reported,with the addition of a warning moral and example to all futureevil-doers, in the "Red Dog Clarion," by its editor, who was present,and to whose vigorous English I cheerfully refer the reader. But thebeauty of that midsummer morning, the blessed amity of earth and air andsky, the awakened life of the free woods and hills, the joyous renewaland promise of Nature, and above all, the infinite serenity thatthrilled through each, was not reported, as not being a part of thesocial lesson. And yet, when the weak and foolish deed was done, and alife, with its possibilities and responsibilities, had passed out of themisshapen thing that dangled between earth and sky, the birds sang, theflowers bloomed, the sun shone, as cheerily as before; and possibly the"Red Dog Clarion" was right.
Tennessee's Partner was not in the group that surrounded the ominoustree. But as they turned to disperse, attention was drawn to thesingular appearance of a motionless donkey-cart halted at the side ofthe road. As they approached, they at once recognized the venerable"Jenny" and the two-wheeled cart as the property of Tennessee's Partner,used by him in carrying dirt from his claim; and a few paces distant theowner of the equipage himself, sitting under a buckeye-tree, wiping theperspiration from his glowing face. In answer to an inquiry, he said hehad come for the body of the "diseased," "if it was all the same to thecommittee." He didn't wish to "hurry anything;" he could "wait." Hewas not working that day; and when the gentlemen were done with the"diseased," he would take him. "Ef thar is any present," he added, inhis simple, serious way, "as would care to jine in the fun'l, theykin come." Perhaps it was from a sense of humor, which I have alreadyintimated was a feature of Sandy Bar,--perhaps it was from somethingeven better than that, but two thirds of the loungers accepted theinvitation at once.
It was noon when the body of Tennessee was delivered into the hands ofhis partner. As the cart drew up to the fatal tree, we noticed thatit contained a rough oblong box,--apparently made from a section ofsluicing,--and half filled with bark and the tassels of pine. Thecart was further decorated with slips of willow and made fragrant withbuckeye-blossoms. When the body was deposited in the box, Tennessee'sPartner drew over it a piece of tarred canvas, and gravely mounting thenarrow seat in front, with his feet upon the shafts, urged the littledonkey forward. The equipage moved slowly on, at that decorous pacewhich was habitual with Jenny even under less solemn circumstances. Themen--half curiously, half jestingly, but all good-humoredly--strolledalong beside the cart, some in advance, some a little in the rear of thehomely catafalque. But whether from the narrowing of the road or somepresent sense of decorum, as the cart passed on, the company fell to therear in couples, keeping step, and otherwise assuming the external showof a formal procession. Jack Folinsbee, who had at the outset played afuneral march in dumb show upon an imaginary trombone, desisted froma lack of sympathy and appreciation,--not having, perhaps, your truehumorist's capacity to be content with the enjoyment of his own fun.
The way led through Grizzly Canon, by this time clothed in funerealdrapery and shadows. The redwoods, burying their moccasined feet inthe red soil, stood in Indian file along the track, trailing an uncouthbenediction from their bending boughs upon the passing bier. A hare,surprised into helpless inactivity, sat upright and pulsating in theferns by the roadside as the cortege went by. Squirrels hastened to gaina secure outlook from higher boughs; and the blue-jays, spreading theirwings, fluttered before them like outriders, until the outskirts ofSandy Bar were reached, and the solitary cabin of Tennessee's Partner.
Viewed under more favorable circumstances, it would not have been acheerful place. The unpicturesque site, the rude and unlovely outlines,the unsavory details, which distinguish the nest-building of theCalifornia miner, were all here with the dreariness of decay superadded.A few paces from the cabin there was a rough inclosure, which, in thebrief days of Tennessee's Partner's matrimonial felicity, had been usedas a garden, but was now overgrown with fern. As we approached it, wewere surprised to find that what we
had taken for a recent attempt atcultivation was the broken soil about an open grave.
The cart was halted before the inclosure, and rejecting the offers ofassistance with the same air of simple self-reliance he had displayedthroughout, Tennessee's Partner lifted the rough coffin on his back, anddeposited it unaided within the shallow grave. He then nailed down theboard which served as a lid, and mounting the little mound of earthbeside it, took off his hat and slowly mopped his face with hishandkerchief. This the crowd felt was a preliminary to speech, and theydisposed themselves variously on stumps and boulders, and sat expectant.
"When a man," began Tennessee's Partner slowly, "has been running freeall day, what's the natural thing for him to do? Why, to come home. Andif he ain't in a condition to go home, what can his best friend do?Why, bring him home. And here's Tennessee has been running free, and webrings him home from his wandering." He paused and picked up a fragmentof quartz, rubbed it thoughtfully on his sleeve, and went on: "It ain'tthe first time that I've packed him on my back, as you see'd me now.It ain't the first time that I brought him to this yer cabin when hecouldn't help himself; it ain't the first time that I and Jinny havewaited for him on yon hill, and picked him up and so fetched him home,when he couldn't speak and didn't know me. And now that it's the lasttime, why"--he paused and rubbed the quartz gently on his sleeve--"yousee it's sort of rough on his pardner. And now, gentlemen" he addedabruptly, picking up his long-handled shovel, "the fun'l's over; and mythanks, and Tennessee's thanks, to you for your trouble."
Resisting any proffers of assistance, he began to fill in the grave,turning his back upon the crowd, that after a few moments' hesitationgradually withdrew. As they crossed the little ridge that hid SandyBar from view, some, looking back, thought they could see Tennessee'sPartner, his work done, sitting upon the grave, his shovel between hisknees, and his face buried in his red bandana handkerchief. But it wasargued by others that you couldn't tell his face from his handkerchiefat that distance, and this point remained undecided.
In the reaction that followed the feverish excitement of that day,Tennessee's Partner was not forgotten. A secret investigation hadcleared him of any complicity in Tennessee's guilt, and left only asuspicion of his general sanity. Sandy Bar made a point of calling onhim, and proffering various uncouth but well-meant kindnesses. But fromthat day his rude health and great strength seemed visibly to decline;and when the rainy season fairly set in, and the tiny grass-blades werebeginning to peep from the rocky mound above Tennessee's grave, he tookto his bed.
One night, when the pines beside the cabin were swaying in the storm andtrailing their slender fingers over the roof, and the roar and rush ofthe swollen river were heard below, Tennessee's Partner lifted his headfrom the pillow, saying, "It is time to go for Tennessee; I must putJinny in the cart;" and would have risen from his bed but for therestraint of his attendant. Struggling, he still pursued his singularfancy: "There, now, steady, Jinny,--steady, old girl. How dark it is!Look out for the ruts,--and look out for him, too, old gal. Sometimes,you know, when he's blind drunk, he drops down right in the trail. Keepon straight up to the pine on the top of the hill. Thar! I told youso!--thar he is,--coming this way, too,--all by himself, sober, and hisface a-shining. Tennessee! Pardner!"
And so they met.
THE IDYL OF BED GULCH
Sandy was very drunk. He was lying under an azalea-bush, in pretty muchthe same attitude in which he had fallen some hours before. How longhe had been lying there he could not tell, and didn't care; how longhe should lie there was a matter equally indefinite and unconsidered.A tranquil philosophy, born of his physical condition, suffused andsaturated his moral being.
The spectacle of a drunken man, and of this drunken man in particular,was not, I grieve to say, of sufficient novelty in Red Gulch toattract attention. Earlier in the day some local satirist had erected atemporary tombstone at Sandy's head, bearing the inscription, "Effectsof McCorkle's whiskey--kills at forty rods," with a hand pointing toMcCorkle's saloon. But this, I imagine, was, like most local satire,personal; and was a reflection upon the unfairness of the processrather than a commentary upon the impropriety of the result. With thisfacetious exception, Sandy had been undisturbed. A wandering mule,released from his pack, had cropped the scant herbage beside him, andsniffed curiously at the prostrate man; a vagabond dog, with that deepsympathy which the species have for drunken men, had licked his dustyboots and curled himself up at his feet, and lay there, blinking one eyein the sunlight, with a simulation of dissipation that was ingenious anddog-like in its implied flattery of the unconscious man beside him.
Meanwhile the shadows of the pine-trees had slowly swung around untilthey crossed the road, and their trunks barred the open meadow withgigantic parallels of black and yellow. Little puffs of red dust, liftedby the plunging hoofs of passing teams, dispersed in a grimy shower uponthe recumbent man. The sun sank lower and lower, and still Sandy stirrednot. And then the repose of this philosopher was disturbed, as otherphilosophers have been, by the intrusion of an unphilosophical sex.
"Miss Mary," as she was known to the little flock that she had justdismissed from the log schoolhouse beyond the pines, was taking herafternoon walk. Observing an unusually fine cluster of blossoms on theazalea-bush opposite, she crossed the road to pluck it, picking herway through the red dust, not without certain fierce little shivers ofdisgust and some feline circumlocution. And then she came suddenly uponSandy!
Of course she uttered the little staccato cry of her sex. But when shehad paid that tribute to her physical weakness she became overboldand halted for a moment,--at least six feet from this prostratemonster,--with her white skirts gathered in her hand, ready for flight.But neither sound nor motion came from the bush. With one little footshe then overturned the satirical headboard, and muttered "Beasts!"--anepithet which probably, at that moment, conveniently classified inher mind the entire male population of Red Gulch. For Miss Mary,being possessed of certain rigid notions of her own, had not, perhaps,properly appreciated the demonstrative gallantry for which theCalifornian has been so justly celebrated by his brother Californians,and had, as a newcomer, perhaps fairly earned the reputation of being"stuck up."
As she stood there she noticed, also, that the slant sunbeams wereheating Sandy's head to what she judged to be an unhealthy temperature,and that his hat was lying uselessly at his side. To pick it up and toplace it over his face was a work requiring some courage, particularlyas his eyes were open. Yet she did it and made good her retreat. Butshe was somewhat concerned, on looking back, to see that the hat wasremoved, and that Sandy was sitting up and saying something.
The truth was, that in the calm depths of Sandy's mind he was satisfiedthat the rays of the sun were beneficial and healthful; that fromchildhood he had objected to lying down in a hat; that no people butcondemned fools, past redemption, ever wore hats; and that his rightto dispense, with them when he pleased was inalienable. This wasthe statement of his inner consciousness. Unfortunately, its outwardexpression was vague, being limited to a repetition of the followingformula: "Su'shine all ri'! Wasser maar, eh? Wass up, su'shine?"
Miss Mary stopped, and, taking fresh courage from her vantage ofdistance, asked him if there was anything that he wanted.
"Wass up? Wasser maar?" continued Sandy, in a very high key.
"Get up, you horrid man!" said Miss Mary, now thoroughly incensed; "getup and go home."
Sandy staggered to his feet. He was six feet high, and Miss Marytrembled. He started forward a few paces and then stopped.
"Wass I go home for?" he suddenly asked, with great gravity.
"Go and take a bath," replied Miss Mary, eying his grimy person withgreat disfavor.
To her infinite dismay, Sandy suddenly pulled off his coat and vest,threw them on the ground, kicked off his boots, and, plunging wildlyforward, darted headlong over the hill in the direction of the river.
"Goodness heavens! the man will be drowned!" said Miss Mary; and then,with feminine inc
onsistency, she ran back to the schoolhouse and lockedherself in. That night, while seated at supper with her hostess, theblacksmith's wife, it came to Miss Mary to ask, demurely, if her husbandever got drunk. "Abner," responded Mrs. Stidger reflectively,--"let'ssee! Abner hasn't been tight since last 'lection." Miss Mary would haveliked to ask if he preferred lying in the sun on these occasions, andif a cold bath would have hurt him; but this would have involved anexplanation, which she did not then care to give. So she contentedherself with opening her gray eyes widely at the red-cheeked Mrs.Stidger,--a fine specimen of Southwestern efflorescence,--and thendismissed the subject altogether. The next day she wrote to her dearestfriend in Boston: "I think I find the intoxicated portion of thiscommunity the least objectionable, I refer, my dear, to the men, ofcourse. I do not know anything that could make the women tolerable."
In less than a week Miss Mary had forgotten this episode, except thather afternoon walks took thereafter, almost unconsciously, anotherdirection. She noticed, however, that every morning a fresh cluster ofazalea blossoms appeared among the flowers on her desk. This was notstrange, as her little flock were aware of her fondness for flowers, andinvariably kept her desk bright with anemones, syringas, and lupines;but, on questioning them, they one and all professed ignorance of theazaleas. A few days later, Master Johnny Stidger, whose desk was nearestto the window, was suddenly taken with spasms of apparently gratuitouslaughter, that threatened the discipline of the school. All that MissMary could get from him was, that some one had been "looking in thewinder." Irate and indignant, she sallied from her hive to do battlewith the intruder. As she turned the corner of the schoolhouse she cameplump upon the quondam drunkard, now perfectly sober, and inexpressiblysheepish and guilty-looking.