CHAPTER II.
MISSOURI JACK.
At the end of a month the settlement had considerably increased. A largeparty from Missouri went to work farther up stream, and a few strayemigrants also added themselves to the miners at River Bend, for thiswas the name selected by Captain Fletcher for the location. The newarrivals were a rougher and more disorderly class than Fletcher and hiscompanions. Already there was a saloon, devoted to the double purpose ofgambling and drinking; and the proprietor, Missouri Jack (no one knewhis last name), was doing a thriving business. Indeed his incomeconsiderably exceeded that of any one in the settlement.
Neither Tom nor any of his party contributed much to Missouri Jack'sprofits. In consequence, they had to bear the ill-will and sometimesopen abuse of Jack and his friends.
"Come in and take a drink, stranger," called out Jack, the day after theopening of the saloon, to Captain Fletcher.
"No, thank you."
"It shan't cost you a cent."
"It would cost me my health," returned Fletcher.
"Do you mean to say I sell bad whiskey?" demanded Jack, angrily,emphasizing the inquiry by an oath.
"I don't know anything about it."
"Then what _do_ you mean?"
"I mean that all whiskey is bad for the health," replied Fletcher.
"Oh, you're a temperance sneak!" exclaimed Missouri Jack,contemptuously.
"I am a temperance man; you may leave out the other word," calmlyanswered Fletcher.
"You're not a man!" exploded Jack. "A man that's afraid of whiskey isa--a--isn't half a man. He isn't fit to be a woman."
"Have it as you like," said Fletcher, unruffled. "I shall not drink toplease any man. I had a younger brother--a bright, promising young manpoor Ben was--who drank himself to death. He'd have been alive now butfor whiskey."
"Oh, dry up your pious talk! You make me sick!" exclaimed Missouri Jackin deep disgust.
Next he accosted John Miles, who curtly declined and received in returna volley of abuse. Now Miles was a powerful man, and not possessed ofFletcher's self-control. He paused, and surveyed Jack with a menacinglook.
"Look here, stranger," he said, sharply, "just have a care how you usethat tongue of yours. This is a free country, and if I choose to declineyour whiskey, there's no law against it that I know of."
"You're a white-livered sneak!"
Missouri Jack did not proceed with his remarks, for John Miles, seizinghim by the shoulder, tripped him up, and strode away, leaving himprostrate, and pouring out a volley of curses. Being a bully, andcowardly as most bullies are, he did not pursue his broad-shoulderedenemy, but vowed vengeance whenever a good opportunity came.
In fact, the only one of the original miners who accepted Jack'sinvitation was Lawrence Peabody.
"Step in, stranger, and have a drink!" said Jack, a little dubiously,having met with such poor luck heretofore.
The young Bostonian paused. He was not a drinker at home, but in hisdiscontent and disappointment he was tempted.
"My dear sir, you are very polite," he said.
"I hope you ain't one of them temperance sneaks," said Jack, his browclouding in anticipation of a refusal.
"I assure you I am not," Peabody hastened to say. "I have participatedin convivial scenes more than once in Boston."
"I don't understand college talk," said Jack; "but if you want a glassof prime whiskey, just say the word."
"I don't care if I do," said Peabody, following his new friend into thesaloon.
The draught of prime whiskey scorched his throat as he swallowed itdown, but it was followed by a sense of exhilaration, and Peabody'stongue was loosened.
"You're a gentleman!" said Missouri Jack. "You ain't like them fellowsyou're with. They're sneaks."
"Really, you compliment me, Mr.--, what may I call your name?"
"Missouri Jack--that's the peg I hang on to."
"My dear Mr. Jack, I am glad to know you. You are really quite anaccession to our settlement."
"Well, if I ain't, my saloon is. How you've managed to live so longwithout liquor beats me. Why, it ain't civilized."
"It _was_ pretty dull," admitted Peabody.
"No life, no amusement; for all the world like a parcel of Methodists.What luck have you met with, stranger?"
"Beastly luck!" answered Peabody. "I tell you, Mr. Jack, California's afraud. Many a time I've regretted leaving Boston, where I lived instyle, and moved in the first circles, for such a place as this.Positively, Mr. Jack, I feel like a tramp, and I'm afraid I look likeone. If my fashionable friends could see me now, they wouldn't know me."
"I ain't got no fashionable friends, and I don't want any," growledMissouri Jack, spitting on the floor. "What I want is, to meetgentlemen that ain't afraid to drink like gentlemen. I say, stranger,you'd better leave them Methodist fellers, and join our gang."
"Thank you, Mr. Jack, you're very kind, and I'll think of it," saidPeabody, diplomatically. Though a little exhilarated, he was not quiteblind to the character of the man with whom he was fraternizing, and hadtoo much real refinement to enjoy his coarseness.
"Have another drink!"
"Thank you."
Peabody drank again, this time with a friend of Jack's, a man of his ownstripe, who straggled into the saloon.
"Do you play euchre?" asked Jack, producing a dirty pack of cards.
"I know little of it," said Peabody; "but I'll try a game."
"Then you and me and Bill here will have a game."
"All right," said Peabody, glad to while away the time.
"What'll you put up on your game, stranger?" asked Bill.
"You don't mean to play for money, do you?" asked Peabody, a littlestartled.
"Sartain I do. What's the good of playin' for nothing?"
So the young Bostonian, out of his modest pile was tempted to stake anounce of gold-dust. Though his head was hardly in a condition to followthe game intelligently, he won, or at least Bill and Jack told him hehad, and for the first time Lawrence felt the rapture of the successfulgambler, as he gathered in his winnings.
"He plays a steep game, Bill," said Jack.
"Tip-top--A No. 1."
"I believe I do play a pretty good game," said the flattered Peabody."My friends in Boston used to say so."
"You're hard to beat, and no mistake," said Bill. "Try another game."
"I'm ready, gentlemen," said Peabody, with alacrity.
"It's a great deal easier earning money this way," he reflected,regarding complacently the two ounces of dust which represented hiswinnings, "than washing dirt out of the river." And the poor dupecongratulated himself that a new way of securing the favors of fortunehad been opened to him.
The reader will easily guess that Lawrence Peabody did not win the nextgame, nor will he be surprised to hear that when he left the saloon hispockets were empty.
"Better luck next time, stranger," said Jack, carelessly. "Take a drinkbefore you go?"
Peabody accepted the invitation, and soon after staggered into the tentoccupied by Tom and his friend Ferguson.
"What's the matter, Mr. Peabody?" asked Tom. "Are you sick?"
"Yes," answered Peabody, sinking to the floor. "Something's the matterwith my head. I don't feel well."
"Have you been to the saloon, Mr. Peabody?" asked Ferguson.
"Yes," answered the Bostonian.
"And while there you drank some of their vile whiskey, didn't you?"
"I'm a free man, Mr. Ferguson. If I choose to drink, what--what businessis it--yours?"
"None, except as a friend I advise you not to go there again."
Further inquiries elicited the facts about the gambling, and Fergusonand Tom seriously remonstrated with Peabody, who, however, insisted thatMr. Jack, as he called him, was a hospitable gentleman.
The dust which Peabody had lost should have been paid to Capt. Fletcher,as his share of the expenses that same evening. Of course this was nowimpossible. Fletcher warned him that any subsequent fai
lure from thesame cause would be followed by an exclusion from his table.
The Young Miner; Or, Tom Nelson in California Page 2