by Bret Harte
wiry ensemble gave me theimpression that certain pastoral and agricultural conditions had variedhis type, and he looked more like a shepherd's dog in whose brown eyesthere was an abiding consciousness of the care of straying sheep, andpossibly of one black one in particular.
He had, he told me, abandoned mining and taken up farming on a ratherlarge scale. He had prospered. He had other interests at stake, "Aflour-mill with some improvements--and--and"--here his eyes wandered tothe "Guardian" again, and he asked me somewhat abruptly what I thoughtof the paper. Something impelled me to restrain my previous fullercriticism, and I contented myself by saying briefly that I thought itrather ambitious for the locality. "That's the word," he said with alook of gratified relief, "'ambitious'--you've just hit it. And what'sthe matter with thet? Ye kan't expect a high-toned man to write down tothe level of every karpin' hound, ken ye now? That's what he says tome"-- He stopped half confused, and then added abruptly: "That's oneo' my investments."
"Why, Captain Jim, I never suspected that you"--
"Oh, I don't WRITE it," he interrupted hastily. "I only furnish themoney and the advertising, and run it gin'rally, you know; and I'mresponsible for it. And I select the eddyter--and"--he continued, witha return of the same uneasy wistful look--"thar's suthin' in thet, youknow, eh?"
I was beginning to be perplexed. The memory evoked by the style of theeditorial writing and the presence of Captain Jim was assuming asuspicious relationship to each other. "And who's your editor?" Iasked.
"Oh, he's--he's--er--Lacy Bassett," he replied, blinking his eyes witha hopeless assumption of carelessness. "Let's see! Oh yes! You knowedLacy down there at Eureka. I disremembered it till now. Yes, sir!" herepeated suddenly and almost rudely, as if to preclude any adversecriticism, "he's the eddyter!"
To my surprise he was quite white and tremulous with nervousness. I wasvery sorry for him, and as I really cared very little for thehalf-forgotten escapade of his friend except so far as it seemed torender HIM sensitive, I shook his hand again heartily and began to talkof our old life in the gulch--avoiding as far as possible any allusionto Lacy Bassett. His face brightened; his old simple cordiality andtrustfulness returned, but unfortunately with it his old disposition torefer to Bassett. "Yes, they waz high old times, and ez I waz sayin'to Lacy on'y yesterday, there is a kind o' freedom 'bout that sort o'life that runs civilization and noospapers mighty hard, howeverhigh-toned they is. Not but what Lacy ain't right," he added quickly,"when he sez that the opposition the 'Guardian' gets here comes fromignorant low-down fellers ez wos brought up in played-out camps, andcan't tell a gentleman and a scholar and a scientific man when theysees him. No! So I sez to Lacy, 'Never you mind, it's high time theydid, and they've got to do it and to swaller the "Guardian," if I sinkdouble the money I've already put into the paper.'"
I was not long in discovering from other sources that the "Guardian"was not popular with the more intelligent readers of Gilead, and thatCaptain Jim's extravagant estimate of his friend was by no meansindorsed by the community. But criticism took a humorous turn even inthat practical settlement, and it appeared that Lacy Bassett's vanity,assumption, and ignorance were an unfailing and weekly joy to thecritical, in spite of the vague distrust they induced in the morehomely-witted, and the dull acquiescence of that minority who acceptedthe paper for its respectable exterior and advertisements. I wassomewhat grieved, however, to find that Captain Jim shared equally withhis friend in this general verdict of incompetency, and that some ofthe most outrageous blunders were put down to HIM. But I was notprepared to believe that Lacy had directly or by innuendo helped thepublic to this opinion.
Whether through accident or design on his part, Lacy Bassett did notpersonally obtrude himself upon my remembrance until a month later.One dazzling afternoon, when the dust and heat had driven the pride ofGilead's manhood into the surreptitious shadows of the temperancehotel's back room, and had even cleared the express office of itsloungers, and left me alone with darkened windows in the privateoffice, the outer door opened and Captain Jim's friend entered as partof that garish glitter I had shut out. To do the scamp strict justice,however, he was somewhat subdued in his dress and manner, and, possiblythrough some gentle chastening of epigram and revolver since I had seenhim last, was less aggressive and exaggerated. I had the impression,from certain odors wafted through the apartment and a peculiar physicalexaltation that was inconsistent with his evident moral hesitancy, thathe had prepared himself for the interview by a previous visit to thehidden fountains of the temperance hotel.
"We don't seem to have run agin each other since you've been here," hesaid with an assurance that was nevertheless a trifle forced "but Ireckon we're both busy men, and there's a heap too much loafing goin'on in Gilead. Captain Jim told me he met you the day you arrived; saidyou just cottoned to the 'Guardian' at once and thought it a deal toogood for Gilead; eh? Oh, well, jest ez likely he DIDN'T say it--it wasonly his gassin'. He's a queer man--is Captain Jim."
I replied somewhat sharply that I considered him a very honest man, avery simple man, and a very loyal man.
"That's all very well," said Bassett, twirling his cane with apatronizing smile, "but, as his friend, don't you find him considerableof a darned fool?"
I could not help retorting that I thought HE had found that hardly anobjection.
"YOU think so," he said querulously, apparently ignoring everything butthe practical fact,--"and maybe others do; but that's where you'remistaken. It don't pay. It may pay HIM to be runnin' me as hisparticular friend, to be quotin' me here and there, to be gettin'credit of knowin' me and my friends and ownin' me--by Gosh! but I don'tsee where the benefit to ME comes in. Eh? Take your own case downthere at Eureka Gulch; didn't he send for me just to show me up to youfellers? Did I want to have anything to do with the Eureka Company?Didn't he set me up to give my opinion about that shaft just to showoff what I knew about science and all that? And what did he get me tojoin the company for? Was it for you? No! Was it for me? No! It wasjust to keep me there for HIMSELF, and kinder pit me agin you fellersand crow over you! Now that ain't my style! It may be HIS--it may behonest and simple and loyal, as you say, and it may be all right forhim to get me to run up accounts at the settlement and then throw offon me--but it ain't my style. I suppose he let on that I did that.No? He didn't? Well then, why did he want to run me off with him, andout the whole concern in an underhand way and make me leave with nary acharacter behind me, eh? Now, I never said anything about thisbefore--did I? It ain't like me. I wouldn't have said anything aboutit now, only you talked about MY being benefited by his darnedfoolishness. Much I've made outer HIM."
Despicable, false, and disloyal as this was, perhaps it was thecrowning meanness of such confidences that his very weakness seemedonly a reflection of Captain Jim's own, and appeared in some strangeway to degrade his friend as much as himself. The simplicity of hisvanity and selfishness was only equalled by the simplicity of CaptainJim's admiration of it. It was a part of my youthful inexperience ofhumanity that I was not above the common fallacy of believing that aman is "known by the company he keeps," and that he is in a mannerresponsible for its weakness; it was a part of that humanity that Ifelt no surprise in being more amused than shocked by this revelation.It seemed a good joke on Captain Jim!
"Of course YOU kin laugh at his darned foolishness; but, by Gosh, itain't a laughing matter to me!"
"But surely he's given you a good position on the 'Guardian,'" I urged."That was disinterested, certainly."
"Was it? I call that the cheekiest thing yet. When he found hecouldn't make enough of me in private life, he totes me out in publicas HIS editor--the man who runs HIS paper! And has his name in printas the proprietor, the only chance he'd ever get of being before thepublic. And don't know the whole town is laughing at him!"
"That may be because they think HE writes some of the articles," Isuggested.
Again the insinuation glanced harmlessly from his vanity. "Thatcouldn'
t be, because I do all the work, and it ain't his style," hesaid with naive discontent. "And it's always the highest style, doneto please him, though between you and me it's sorter castin' pearlsbefore swine--this 'Frisco editing--and the public would be just assatisfied with anything I could rattle off that was peart andsassy,--something spicy or personal. I'm willing to climb