by Laurence Yep
He spoke American when he demanded our money.
When the Fox got up, he put himself between me and them. Angrily, he ordered the robber to get out.
The robber hit the Fox so hard with his pistol that the Fox fell down.
I shouted in American for the robber to stop and to go away.
The Fox yelled back in Chinese for me to be quiet. Then he pointed to the table and told the robber in American to take the money and not hurt him any more.
The robber picked up the coins and stuffed them into his pockets. His laugh rubbed my ears like a plane on wood.
From outside, I heard the crew protesting angrily in Chinese and then a gun blast. I ran toward the tent flap.
Rising to his knees, the Fox tackled me and ordered me to wait.
“He shot someone,” I said.
“Then you’d be hearing screams, and the camp would be stampeding to get out of their way,” the Fox explained. “The robbers just shot in the air to make everyone back up.”
Outside all I heard was anger rather than fear. The sound diminished as they followed the thieves out of camp.
Uncle came in to check on me.
For someone who had just been beaten and robbed, the Fox seemed very calm. He let me go and told Uncle that we were both all right and to go back outside.
The Fox had me bring him a jar of salve from near his sleeping mat. As I daubed the salve onto his cheek, he told me to listen to him next time.
I was stunned. They’d come back another time?
The Fox told me the robbers will come back like landlords after the rent. But with a little luck, the first set of robbers will be strong enough to keep other robbers away from poaching their personal preserve.
I didn’t think it was fair and said so.
The Fox said we don’t have much choice.
I remembered what he told me about the courts here. We can’t complain because we aren’t people to the Americans. I’d never felt more angry or helpless.
To my surprise, the Fox just chuckled. The thieves had gotten just dimes and pennies. Why did I think he stunk up his tent with the chamber pot? When the troubles started in town, he knew it was a sign to get ready.
So I told him what Uncle and the others thought was the reason: that he was scared to leave his tent at night. The Fox started to laugh, but his bruise hurt too much and he had to stop.
He made me promise not to tell anyone — not even Uncle — what he was going to show me.
Then he reached into the chamber pot and pulled up a packet wrapped in oilcloth. This was his strongbox. That’s why he had such a big chamber pot. They’d never look in there.
I’d been all wrong about the Fox.
“Where there’s no law, you have to use your wits,” the Fox said.
As the Fox cleaned his hands, he gave me a stern look. If we shoot any white man — even if he is a robber — we’ll all be lynched. All the mob would care about is the color of the victim’s skin.
And then he said something that I always want to remember: “Remember, Runt. The real strong man doesn’t fight back. The real strong man takes it and lives on. The family always comes first. Your ghost can’t send them money.”
Of course, I asked the Fox why he had fought for the gold, then.
The Fox explained that he couldn’t make the theft look too easy, or they would have become suspicious.
I see how the boss got his name.
He has a lot to teach me about being a guest of the Golden Mountain.
I just hope I live long enough to learn.
August 16
Such a crazy time. Everything has to be done in a hurry.
The crews are building the Great Wall out of the logs and planks. But the river hates being stopped. It keeps bashing at the dam.
Sometimes Uncle and the others have to go into the cold water. They shout and shiver as they hammer the boards against the logs.
They have to put their heads under the water since the logs are submerged. Also the water itself softens the force of their blows. And the icy temperature saps their strength. My hands go numb whenever I get water from the river. I don’t think I could make it if I had to put my whole body in there.
The Fox has had to start setting them to work in teams. One comes out and the next enters the water to work. Then the resting team can dry itself off and warm up.
I stay on shore keeping a fire going and tea boiling so crewmen can dry off.
Have to get more firewood now.
Later
We nearly lost Prosperity. The river knocked him off his feet while he was working on the logs. One moment I heard the scream. The next I saw him already three meters downriver.
He managed to grab hold of a root, but the men near him wouldn’t help. They just stood around shouting instructions to Prosperity and one another. I just stood there, too, with my mouth open.
The Fox himself ran to the rescue, his hat flying off. He looked a little funny, hopping first on one foot and then the other as he pulled off his boots. Then, grabbing a rope, he dove into the water.
Once again the Fox earned his name. He let the currents carry him to Prosperity. Then the Fox managed to get the rope tied around the waist of the drowning man.
When we hauled them both to shore, both were blue from the cold.
As soon as he had his breath back, though, the Fox ordered everyone else back to work. I was sent for blankets.
Prosperity was finished for the day and went back to his tent. The Fox stayed close by, supervising. The blanket was around his shoulders and the cup of tea between his hands. He was so busy shouting instructions that I don’t think he ever drank it.
The Fox is an amazing man. He’s brave as well as clever.
More than ever I feel like a runt. I just stood there and did nothing. I don’t think I’ll ever be a true guest of the Golden Mountain.
Still later
The first part of the wing dam is done. The last log didn’t get set and nailed until sunset. There’s still quite a bit of water flowing through.
The Fox walked across the top log and then splashed into the river itself. Every few steps his head would disappear as he dove to check the Great Wall.
When he had inspected the last piece, he announced that it would hold. Uncle fell asleep in our tent, too exhausted to eat.
I can barely hold my pencil to write these few words.
August 17
We’re still working on the Great Wall.
August 20
This morning we began to haul baskets of soil to the river. The dirt is almost like clay, so it’s heavy. We dump it over the face of the Great Wall faster than the river can wash it away. Then we add boughs that have been saved from the trimmed trees.
Even so, the river is determined to keep to its old bed. It finds cracks and sloshes inside. The water’s still a meter high inside the Great Wall.
August 22
No break this Sunday.
We brought in Uncle’s water chains and set them up. The chain gets turned by pedals. There is a stick in front to hold on to as you walk. Everyone takes a turn.
August 24
The water level has slowly been dropping behind the Great Wall. Now we can see the bottom of the stream. I crowded on the bank with the others, looking for gold.
When I saw specks at first, I thought I had found it. Then I realized they were moving around. We’d trapped some fish.
The cook stepped down from the bank in high boots. With his bare hands he began to snatch the fish and dump them into a basket. I guess we’re going to have fresh fish tonight.
As I watched the silvery shapes fall one by one into the basket, I thought back to the time when Uncle had first marched out of Tiger Rock. I’d expected him to scoop up the gold just as easily.
That seems decades ago when I didn’t know anything.
August 27
It’s taken three days for the water level to drop. Uncle and I have begun building rockers. The F
ox sketched diagrams on a piece of scrap wood for us. Rockers are boxes a couple of meters long and about a meter wide and about a quarter of a meter deep. There is a slight slope to the bottom across which cleats have been nailed.
One end of the box is open and a screen box is at the other a little above the bottom of the box. The screen box is a smaller one with holes through the bottom.
The whole thing rests on curved boards so it will rock back and forth. I guess that’s how the machine got its name.
August 28
My first gold.
I slept only a few hours last night. Most of the camp was down by the river waiting for the morning.
When I reached the bank, I strained my eyes looking for gold. It must be in small pieces or even dust. All I could see was the sun glistening on the mud. In dozens of places, I saw fish flopping about. (Fish again tonight.)
The Fox himself was the first to jump down with a shovel. Instantly he sank ankle deep in the wet mud and gravel. When he didn’t dig right away, Prosperity shouted, “What are you waiting for? The gold isn’t going to jump into your pockets.”
The Fox just sniffed the air. “No, not yet.”
To tell the truth, all I could smell was the mud. Some of it really stank.
The Fox is the Fox, though. He high-stepped through the mud and wet gravel until he was in the middle of the area behind the Great Wall. It was there his nose told him to dig.
Then he high-stepped back to the bank where a rocker stood. He dumped the test shovelful into the screen box. It didn’t look like anything to me.
Then he dumped a bucket of water over it. The dirty water traveled down the angled bottom and gushed out the open end. I didn’t see any melon-sized nuggets lying in the screen box. All I saw were small rocks and bits of gravel. I felt disappointed.
However, the Fox ran a finger along one of the wooden cleats.
And he announced to everyone that this is what they had all come for. He held up a gleaming fingertip. The little flecks on it gleamed like stars. I don’t think I have ever seen anything as pretty. I think I finally understand how gold can sink its claws into someone. I’ll have to be careful not to go crazy, too.
Everyone let out a whoop and a roar. The sun reflected off the wet riverbed, so it shone as if it were all gold. Suddenly, it seemed like all our worries would evaporate like the mist rising from the mud.
August 29
No break again this Sunday. The Fox says we’re in a race with the winter rains and snow.
After that first shovelful, there hasn’t been any gold.
I remember when I was coming up here, I hoped I would get to see the snow on the mountains. However, we stopped below the snow line.
I’m still curious about seeing it.
But where is the gold?
August 30
Still no gold.
August 31
Will we ever find any more gold? All that work. All that sweat. Can it be for nothing?
September 1
Nothing but disappointment. The Fox has decided that the rest of the gold must be deeper. We will have to strip away the upper levels of gravel and mud.
We have begun to haul it away.
September 5
Though it’s Sunday, there’s no rest.
I feel so tired. After that first glimpse of gold, nothing. It’s as if the land were teasing us.
We dig and dump, dig and dump.
September 9
The Americans are celebrating Admission Day. It’s the day that California officially became a province two years ago.
The Fox says that’s why there is so little government here. Normally it takes longer for a territory to become a province. America was so eager to claim the gold that they made California a province right away, even though there were only a few government people to handle the rush of all those people, seeking gold.
Lots of guns going off. It sounds like a battle. They must be celebrating like they did on July Fourth.
We’ve minded our own business and stayed in camp working. We’re down half a meter. Still no sign of gold.
We hear the Americans haven’t found gold at their dam, either.
Can Uncle be jinxing everything? Or maybe it’s me?
September 14
Gold!
We had to go down a whole meter. All the rockers sway from side to side as we separate the gold dust from the dirt.
So far the robbers have not come back. Perhaps the Fox’s plan is working. He has neither guns nor knives — only his wits. And yet he keeps winning.
As scary as this place is, I trust him to get us through the dangers.
September 18
We have begun to eat better. A wagon comes to us with fresh supplies from Chinatown now. We even get to eat with fancy chopsticks coated in black lacquer.
September 21
I feel like part of a machine. We scoop up the river bottom, dump it into a rocker, add water, and get the gold.
Every night I still can’t rest. There are letters to write. And I have to help the Fox, too.
We dry that day’s gold by a potbellied stove. Then we weigh it and enter the number into the ledger.
Some we put into a strongbox. Most of it, though, we put away in the chamber pot.
Strange, but the gold is always gone from the chamber pot the next night. It’s like a beast that can never get full.
More of the Fox’s magic.
September 24
The Fox stayed inside his tent all day fussing. He kept calling for more wood but never allowed anyone inside.
He must have the chills, because it’s not that cold.
September 27
The three robbers came today. They took what was in the strongbox. The Fox wasn’t acting when he protested. The robbers just laughed. Then they went through the camp, taking what they wanted. When they searched the kitchen tent, I was surprised at how many cases of lacquered chopsticks there were. I guess the Fox really likes them.
I hate the fact that these robbers can come into my home and take anything they want. But there’s nothing I can do about it.
I remember what the Fox said. The family comes first. I won’t do them any good if I get myself killed. But I’m still so mad inside, I hurt.
The sooner I get back to China, the better. We have laws there. Robbers go to jail.
September 28
It once thrilled me to get gold dust and nuggets. Now the little sacks are things we harvest. I get no more excitement than I would harvesting plums at home.
Why work so hard if the Americans are going to take it away anyway?
The Golden Mountain doesn’t shine for me anymore. It’s cold and gloomy and dangerous.
I wonder if a guest can stay too long?
September 30
Just when I think I know America, it surprises me.
It’s grown cooler, and the aspen trees are starting to turn yellow. I thought they were dying. The Fox says they are just changing color. They’ll lose their leaves soon but grow more next year.
Back at home, we must have trees that drop their leaves, too, but everything else stays green from the rains.
October 4
More and more of the aspen leaves have turned yellow. This morning when I woke up and went out to wash, I thought the whole grove had caught fire.
When the wind shakes the thin branches, the yellow leaves shimmer like flickering flames. Such a strange and beautiful sight. The others take it for granted. They don’t understand why I stare at the aspens.
Even if I become an old guest, I hope I never get like that.
October 10
The leaves litter the ground like gold coins. They remind me of the ghost money you drop at funerals. Ghost money is gold-colored paper that fools ghosts. They’re so busy trying to pick it up that you can take the coffin to the cemetery and let the deceased pass on safely.
Who are the aspen coins for? What ghosts are around?
I started to wonder
whether I’ll ever get home alive, or if they’ll ship my bones home.
I feel terribly homesick.
Uncle says all guests get the feeling now and then. Sometimes at odd moments he hears a tune he heard in Tiger Rock. The only problem is that he can remember only half of the song. It nearly drives him crazy. He hummed it for me, but I don’t remember it, either.
My homesickness works on me differently. Suddenly, I want fresh, leafy green vegetables. (I never thought I’d say that.)
I used to hate vegetables in Tiger Rock. That was all I ever got to eat. However, the diet at Big Bend is reversed. Here I eat mostly meat and rice with some pickled or salted vegetables.
In Tiger Rock, the water would have been drained from the rice fields by now and the rice would be turning a pale gold color. Everyone would be getting the vegetable seeds ready for planting.
Evening
I asked the cook to get me some seeds.
He asked me if I wasn’t getting my fill of dirt by now. But then I realized he was teasing me. He promised to add seeds to the next supply run. He warned me that it is colder up here. The plants might not grow.
October 14
My seeds came today. I can’t wait to plant them tomorrow morning. I’ll get up at first light.