A Millionaire of Rough-and-Ready

by Bret Harte

  CHAPTER III

  Apparently dissatisfied with the result of an investigation, whichproved that the cavity was unfit as a treasure hoard for a discreetsquirrel, whatever its value as a receptacle for the love-tokens ofincautious humanity, the little animal at once set about to put thingsin order. He began by whisking out an immense quantity of dead leaves,disturbed a family of tree-spiders, dissipated a drove of patientaphides browsing in the bark, as well as their attendant dairymen, theants, and otherwise ruled it with the high hand of dispossession and acontemptuous opinion of the previous incumbents. It must not besupposed, however, that his proceedings were altogether free fromcontemporaneous criticism; a venerable crow sitting on a branch abovehim displayed great interest in his occupation, and, hopping down a fewmoments afterwards, disposed of some worm-eaten nuts, a few larvae, andan insect or two, with languid dignity and without prejudice. Certainincumbrances, however, still resisted the squirrel's general eviction;among them a folded square of paper with sharply defined edges, thatdeclined investigation, and, owing to a nauseous smell of tobacco,escaped nibbling as it had apparently escaped insect ravages. This,owing to its sharp angles, which persisted in catching in the softdecaying wood in his whirlwind of house-cleaning, he allowed to remain.Having thus, in a general way, prepared for the coming winter, theself-satisfied little rodent dismissed the subject from his active mind.

  His rage and indignation a few days later may be readily conceived,when he found, on returning to his new-made home, another square ofpaper, folded like the first, but much fresher and whiter, lying withinthe cavity, on top of some moss which had evidently been placed therefor the purpose. This he felt was really more than he could bear, butit was smaller, and with a few energetic kicks and whisks of his tailhe managed to finally dislodge it through the opening, where it fellignominiously to the earth. The eager eyes of the ever-attendant crow,however, instantly detected it; he flew to the ground, and, turning itover, examined it gravely. It was certainly not edible, but it wasexceedingly rare, and, as an old collector of curios, he felt he couldnot pass it by. He lifted it in his beak, and, with a desperatestruggle against the superincumbent weight, regained the branch withhis prize. Here, by one of those delicious vagaries of animal nature,he apparently at once discharged his mind of the whole affair, becameutterly oblivious of it, allowed it to drop without the least concern,and eventually flew away with an abstracted air, as if he had beenanother bird entirely. The paper got into a manzanita bush, where itremained suspended until the evening, when, being dislodged by apassing wild-cat on its way to Mulrady's hen-roost, it gave thatdelicately sensitive marauder such a turn that she fled into theadjacent county.

  But the troubles of the squirrel were not yet over. On the followingday the young man who had accompanied the young woman returned to thetrunk, and the squirrel had barely time to make his escape before theimpatient visitor approached the opening of the cavity, peered into it,and even passed his hand through its recesses. The delight visibleupon his anxious and serious face at the disappearance of the letter,and the apparent proof that it had been called for, showed him to havebeen its original depositor, and probably awakened a remorsefulrecollection in the dark bosom of the omnipresent crow, who uttered aconscious-stricken croak from the bough above him. But the young manquickly disappeared again, and the squirrel was once more left inundisputed possession.

  A week passed. A weary, anxious interval to Don Caesar, who hadneither seen nor heard from Mamie since their last meeting. Tooconscious of his own self-respect to call at the house after theequivocal conduct of Mrs. Mulrady, and too proud to haunt the lanes andapproaches in the hope of meeting her daughter, like an ordinary lover,he hid his gloomy thoughts in the monastic shadows of the courtyard atLos Gatos, or found relief in furious riding at night and early morningon the highway. Once or twice the up-stage had been overtaken andpassed by a rushing figure as shadowy as a phantom horseman, with onlythe star-like point of a cigarette to indicate its humanity. It was inone of these fierce recreations that he was obliged to stop in earlymorning at the blacksmith's shop at Rough-and-Ready, to have a loosenedhorseshoe replaced, and while waiting picked up a newspaper. DonCaesar seldom read the papers, but noticing that this was the "Record,"he glanced at its columns. A familiar name suddenly flashed out of thedark type like a spark from the anvil. With a brain and heart thatseemed to be beating in unison with the blacksmith's sledge, he read asfollows:--

  "Our distinguished fellow-townsman, Alvin Mulrady, Esq., left town daybefore yesterday to attend an important meeting of directors of the RedDog Ditch Company, in San Francisco. Society will regret to hear thatMrs. Mulrady and her beautiful and accomplished daughter, who areexpecting to depart for Europe at the end of the month, anticipated theevent nearly a fortnight, by taking this opportunity of accompanyingMr. Mulrady as far as San Francisco, on their way to the East. Mrs.and Miss Mulrady intend to visit London, Paris, and Berlin, and will beabsent three years. It is possible that Mr. Mulrady may join themlater at one or other of those capitals. Considerable disappointmentis felt that a more extended leave-taking was not possible, and that,under the circumstances, no opportunity was offered for a 'send off'suitable to the condition of the parties and the esteem in which theyare held in Rough-and-Ready."

  The paper dropped from his hands. Gone! and without a word! No, thatwas impossible! There must be some mistake; she had written; theletter had miscarried; she must have sent word to Los Gatos, and thestupid messenger had blundered; she had probably appointed anothermeeting, or expected him to follow to San Francisco. "The day beforeyesterday!" It was the morning's paper--she had been gone scarcely twodays--it was not too late yet to receive a delayed message by post, bysome forgetful hand--by--ah--the tree!

  Of course it was in the tree, and he had not been there for a week! Whyhad he not thought of it before? The fault was his, not hers. Perhapsshe had gone away, believing him faithless, or a country boor.

  "In the name of the Devil, will you keep me here till eternity!"

  The blacksmith stared at him. Don Caesar suddenly remembered that hewas speaking, as he was thinking--in Spanish.

  "Ten dollars, my friend, if you have done in five minutes!"

  The man laughed. "That's good enough American," he said, beginning toquicken his efforts. Don Caesar again took up the paper. There wasanother paragraph that recalled his last interview with Mamie:--

  "Mr. Harry Slinn, Jr., the editor of this paper, has just moved intothe pioneer house formerly occupied by Alvin Mulrady, Esq., which hasalready become historic in the annals of the county. Mr. Slinn bringswith him his father--H. J. Slinn, Esq.,--and his two sisters. Mr.Slinn, Sen., who has been suffering for many years from completeparalysis, we understand is slowly improving; and it is by the adviceof his physicians that he has chosen the invigorating air of thefoothills as a change to the debilitating heat of Sacramento."

  The affair had been quickly settled, certainly, reflected Don Caesar,with a slight chill of jealousy, as he thought of Mamie's interest inthe young editor. But the next moment he dismissed it from his mind;all except a dull consciousness that, if she really loved him--DonCaesar--as he loved her, she could not have assisted in throwing intohis society the young sisters of the editor, who she expected might beso attractive.

  Within the five minutes the horse was ready, and Don Caesar in thesaddle again. In less than half an hour he was at the wayside boulder.Here he picketed his horse, and took the narrow foot-trail through thehollow. It did not take him long to reach their old trysting-place.With a beating heart he approached the decaying trunk and looked intothe cavity. There was no letter there!

  A few blackened nuts and some of the dry moss he had put there werelying on the ground at its roots. He could not remember whether theywere there when he had last visited the spot. He began to grope in thecavity with both hands. His fingers struck against the sharp angles ofa flat paper packet: a thrill of joy ran through them and stopped hisbeat
ing heart; he drew out the hidden object, and was chilled withdisappointment.

  It was an ordinary-sized envelope of yellowish-brown paper, bearing,besides the usual government stamp, the official legend of an expresscompany, and showing its age as much by this record of a now obsoletecarrying service as by the discoloration of time and atmosphere. Itsweight, which was heavier than that of any ordinary letter of the samesize and thickness, was evidently due to some loose enclosures, thatslightly rustled and could be felt by the fingers, like minute piecesof metal or grains of gravel. It was within Don Caesar's experiencethat gold specimens were often sent in that manner. It was in a stateof singular preservation, except the address, which, being written inpencil, was scarcely discernible, and even when deciphered appeared tobe incoherent and unfinished. The unknown correspondent had written"dear Mary," and then "Mrs. Mary Slinn," with an unintelligible scrawlfollowing for the direction. If Don Caesar's mind had not been latelypreoccupied with the name of the editor, he would hardly have guessedthe superscription.

  In his cruel disappointment and fully aroused indignation, he at oncebegan to suspect a connection of circumstances which at any othermoment he would have thought purely accidental, or perhaps not haveconsidered at all. The cavity in the tree had evidently been used as asecret receptacle for letters before; did Mamie know it at the time,and how did she know it? The apparent age of the letter made itpreposterous to suppose that it pointed to any secret correspondence ofhers with young Mr. Slinn; and the address was not in her handwriting.Was there any secret previous intimacy between the families? There wasbut one way in which he could connect this letter with Mamie'sfaithlessness. It was an infamous, a grotesquely horrible idea, athought which sprang as much from his inexperience of the world and hishabitual suspiciousness of all humor as anything else! It was that theletter was a brutal joke of Slinn's--a joke perhaps concocted by Mamieand himself--a parting insult that should at the last moment proclaimtheir treachery and his own credulity. Doubtless it contained adeclaration of their shame, and the reason why she had fled from himwithout a word of explanation. And the enclosure, of course, was somesignificant and degrading illustration. Those Americans are full ofthose low conceits; it was their national vulgarity.

  He had the letter in his angry hand. He could break it open if hewished and satisfy himself; but it was not addressed to HIM, and theinstinct of honor, strong even in his rage, was the instinct of anadversary as well. No; Slinn should open the letter before him. Slinnshould explain everything, and answer for it. If it was nothing--amere accident--it would lead to some general explanation, and perhapseven news of Mamie. But he would arraign Slinn, and at once. He putthe letter in his pocket, quickly retraced his steps to his horse, and,putting spurs to the animal, followed the high road to the gate ofMulrady's pioneer cabin.

  He remembered it well enough. To a cultivated taste, it was superiorto the more pretentious "new house." During the first year ofMulrady's tenancy, the plain square log-cabin had received thoseadditions and attractions which only a tenant can conceive and actualexperience suggest; and in this way the hideous right angles werebroken with sheds, "lean-to" extensions, until a certainpicturesqueness was given to the irregularity of outline, and ahome-like security and companionship to the congregated buildings. Ittypified the former life of the great capitalist, as the tall new houseillustrated the loneliness and isolation that wealth had given him.But the real points of vantage were the years of cultivation andhabitation that had warmed and enriched the soil, and evoked theclimbing vines and roses that already hid its unpainted boards, roundedits hard outlines, and gave projection and shadow from the pitilessglare of a summer's long sun, or broke the steady beating of the winterrains. It was true that pea and bean poles surrounded it on one side,and the only access to the house was through the cabbage rows that oncewere the pride and sustenance of the Mulradys. It was this fact, morethan any other, that had impelled Mrs. Mulrady to abandon its site; shedid not like to read the history of their humble origin reflected inthe faces of their visitors as they entered.

  Don Caesar tied his horse to the fence, and hurriedly approached thehouse. The door, however, hospitably opened when he was a few pacesfrom it, and when he reached the threshold he found himselfunexpectedly in the presence of two pretty girls. They were evidentlySlinn's sisters, whom he had neither thought of nor included in themeeting he had prepared. In spite of his preoccupation, he felthimself suddenly embarrassed, not only by the actual distinction oftheir beauty, but by a kind of likeness that they seemed to bear toMamie.

  "We saw you coming," said the elder, unaffectedly. "You are Don CaesarAlvarado. My brother has spoken of you."

  The words recalled Don Caesar to himself and a sense of courtesy. Hewas not here to quarrel with these fair strangers at their firstmeeting; he must seek Slinn elsewhere, and at another time. Thefrankness of his reception and the allusion to their brother made itappear impossible that they should be either a party to hisdisappointment, or even aware of it. His excitement melted away beforea certain lazy ease, which the consciousness of their beauty seemed togive them. He was able to put a few courteous inquiries, and, thanksto the paragraph in the "Record," to congratulate them upon theirfather's improvement.

  "Oh, pa is a great deal better in his health, and has picked up even inthe last few days, so that he is able to walk round with crutches,"said the elder sister. "The air here seems to invigorate himwonderfully."

  "And you know, Esther," said the younger, "I think he begins to takemore notice of things, especially when he is out-of-doors. He looksaround on the scenery, and his eye brightens, as if he knew all aboutit; and sometimes he knits his brows, and looks down so, as if he wastrying to remember."

  "You know, I suppose," exclaimed Esther, "that since his seizure hismemory has been a blank--that is, three or four years of his life seemto have been dropped out of his recollection."

  "It might be a mercy sometimes, Senora," said Don Caesar, with a gravesigh, as he looked at the delicate features before him, which recalledthe face of the absent Mamie.

  "That's not very complimentary," said the younger girl, laughingly;"for pa didn't recognize us, and only remembered us as little girls."

  "Vashti!" interrupted Esther, rebukingly; then, turning to Don Caesar,she added, "My sister, Vashti, means that father remembers more whathappened before he came to California, when we were quite young, thanhe does of the interval that elapsed. Dr. Duchesne says it's asingular case. He thinks that, with his present progress, he willrecover the perfect use of his limbs; though his memory may never comeback again."

  "Unless-- You forget what the doctor told us this morning,"interrupted Vashti again, briskly.

  "I was going to say it," said Esther, a little curtly. "UNLESS he hasanother stroke. Then he will either die or recover his mind entirely."

  Don Caesar glanced at the bright faces, a trifle heightened in color bytheir eager recital and the slight rivalry of narration, and lookedgrave. He was a little shocked at a certain lack of sympathy andtenderness towards their unhappy parent. They seemed to him not onlyto have caught that dry, curious toleration of helplessness whichcharacterizes even relationship in its attendance upon chronicsuffering and weakness, but to have acquired an unconscious habit ofturning it to account. In his present sensitive condition, he evenfancied that they flirted mildly over their parent's infirmity.

  "My brother Harry has gone to Red Dog," continued Esther; "he'll beright sorry to have missed you. Mrs. Mulrady spoke to him about you;you seem to have been great friends. I s'pose you knew her daughter,Mamie; I hear she is very pretty."

  Although Don Caesar was now satisfied that the Slinns knew nothing ofMamie's singular behavior to him, he felt embarrassed by thisconversation. "Miss Mulrady is very pretty," he said, with gravecourtesy; "it is a custom of her race. She left suddenly," he addedwith affected calmness.

  "I reckon she did calculate to stay here longer--so her mother said;but the whole
thing was settled a week ago. I know my brother wasquite surprised to hear from Mr. Mulrady that if we were going todecide about this house we must do it at once; he had an idea himselfabout moving out of the big one into this when they left."

  "Mamie Mulrady hadn't much to keep her here, considerin' the money andthe good looks she has, I reckon," said Vashti. "She isn't the sort ofgirl to throw herself away in the wilderness, when she can pick andchoose elsewhere. I only wonder she ever come back from Sacramento.They talk about papa Mulrady having BUSINESS at San Francisco, and THAThurrying them off! Depend upon it, that 'business' was Mamie herself.Her wish is gospel to them. If she'd wanted to stay and have afarewell party, old Mulrady's business would have been nowhere."

  "Ain't you a little rough on Mamie," said Esther, who had been quietlywatching the young man's face with her large languid eyes, "consideringthat we don't know her, and haven't even the right of friends tocriticise?"

  "I don't call it rough," returned Vashti, frankly, "for I'd do the sameif I were in her shoes--and they're four-and-a-halves, for Harry toldme so. Give me her money and her looks, and you wouldn't catch mehanging round these diggings--goin' to choir meetings Saturdays, churchSundays, and buggy-riding once a month--for society! No--Mamie's headwas level--you bet!"

  Don Caesar rose hurriedly. They would present his compliments to theirfather, and he would endeavor to find their brother at Red Dog. He,alas! had neither father, mother, nor sister, but if they would receivehis aunt, the Dona Inez Sepulvida, the next Sunday, when she came frommass, she should be honored and he would be delighted. It required allhis self-possession to deliver himself of this formal courtesy beforehe could take his leave, and on the back of his mustang give way to therage, disgust and hatred of everything connected with Mamie that filledhis heart. Conscious of his disturbance, but not entirely appreciatingtheir own share in it, the two girls somewhat wickedly prolonged theinterview by following him into the garden.

  "Well, if you MUST leave now," said Esther, at last, languidly, "itain't much out of your way to go down through the garden and take alook at pa as you go. He's somewhere down there, near the woods, andwe don't like to leave him alone too long. You might pass the time ofday with him; see if he's right side up. Vashti and I have got a heapof things to fix here yet; but if anything's wrong with him, you cancall us. So-long."

  Don Caesar was about to excuse himself hurriedly; but that sudden andacute perception of all kindred sorrow which belongs to refinedsuffering, checked his speech. The loneliness of the helpless old manin this atmosphere of active and youthful selfishness touched him. Hebowed assent, and turned aside into one of the long perspectives ofbean-poles. The girls watched him until out of sight.

  "Well," said Vashti, "don't tell ME. But if there wasn't somethingbetween him and that Mamie Mulrady, I don't know a jilted man when Isee him."

  "Well, you needn't have let him SEE that you knew it, so that anycivility of ours would look as if we were ready to take up with herleavings," responded Esther, astutely, as the girls reentered the house.

  Meantime, the unconscious object of their criticism walked sadly downthe old market-garden, whose rude outlines and homely details he onceclothed with the poetry of a sensitive man's first love. Well, it was acommon cabbage field and potato patch after all. In his disgust hefelt conscious of even the loss of that sense of patronage andsuperiority which had invested his affection for a girl of meanercondition. His self-respect was humiliated with his love. The soiland dirt of those wretched cabbages had clung to him, but not to her.It was she who had gone higher; it was he who was left in the vulgarruins of his misplaced passion.

  He reached the bottom of the garden without observing any sign of thelonely invalid. He looked up and down the cabbage rows, and throughthe long perspective of pea-vines, without result. There was a newertrail leading from a gap in the pines to the wooded hollow, whichundoubtedly intersected the little path that he and Mamie had oncefollowed from the high road. If the old man had taken this trail hehad possibly over-tasked his strength, and there was the more reasonwhy he should continue his search, and render any assistance ifrequired. There was another idea that occurred to him, whicheventually decided him to go on. It was that both these trails led tothe decayed sycamore stump, and that the older Slinn might havesomething to do with the mysterious letter. Quickening his stepsthrough the field, he entered the hollow, and reached the intersectingtrail as he expected. To the right it lost itself in the dense woodsin the direction of the ominous stump; to the left it descended innearly a straight line to the highway, now plainly visible, as wasequally the boulder on which he had last discovered Mamie sitting withyoung Slinn. If he were not mistaken, there was a figure sitting therenow; it was surely a man. And by that half-bowed, helpless attitude,the object of his search!

  It did not take him long to descend the track to the highway andapproach the stranger. He was seated with his hands upon his knees,gazing in a vague, absorbed fashion upon the hillside, now crowned withthe engine-house and chimney that marked the site of Mulrady's shaft.He started slightly, and looked up, as Don Caesar paused before him.The young man was surprised to see that the unfortunate man was not asold as he had expected, and that his expression was one of quiet andbeatified contentment.

  "Your daughters told me you were here," said Don Caesar, with gentlerespect. "I am Caesar Alvarado, your not very far neighbor; very happyto pay his respects to you as he has to them."

  "My daughters?" said the old man, vaguely. "Oh, yes! nice littlegirls. And my boy Harry. Did you see Harry? Fine little fellow,Harry."

  "I am glad to hear that you are better," said Don Caesar, hastily, "andthat the air of our country does you no harm. God benefit you, senor,"he added, with a profoundly reverential gesture, dropping unconsciouslyinto the religious habit of his youth. "May he protect you, and bringyou back to health and happiness!"

  "Happiness?" said Slinn, amazedly. "I am happy--very happy! I haveeverything I want: good air, good food, good clothes, pretty littlechildren, kind friends--" He smiled benignantly at Don Caesar. "Godis very good to me!"

  Indeed, he seemed very happy; and his face, albeit crowned with whitehair, unmarked by care and any disturbing impression, had so much ofsatisfied youth in it that the grave features of his questioner madehim appear the elder. Nevertheless, Don Caesar noticed that his eyes,when withdrawn from him, sought the hillside with the same visionaryabstraction.

  "It is a fine view, Senor Esslinn," said Don Caesar.

  "It is a beautiful view, sir," said Slinn, turning his happy eyes uponhim for a moment, only to rest them again on the green slope opposite.

  "Beyond that hill which you are looking at--not far, Senor Esslinn--Ilive. You shall come and see me there--you and your family."

  "You--you--live there?" stammered the invalid, with a troubledexpression--the first and only change to the complete happiness thathad hitherto suffused his face. "You--and your name is--is Ma--"

  "Alvarado," said Don Caesar, gently. "Caesar Alvarado."

  "You said Masters," said the old man, with sudden querulousness.

  "No, good friend. I said Alvarado," returned Don Caesar, gravely.

  "If you didn't say Masters, how could I say it? I don't know anyMasters."

  Don Caesar was silent. In another moment the happy tranquillityreturned to Slinn's face; and Don Caesar continued:--

  "It is not a long walk over the hill, though it is far by the road.When you are better you shall try it. Yonder little trail leads to thetop of the hill, and then--"

  He stopped, for the invalid's face had again assumed its troubledexpression. Partly to change his thoughts, and partly for someinexplicable idea that had suddenly seized him, Don Caesar continued:--

  "There is a strange old stump near the trail, and in it a hole. In thehole I found this letter." He stopped again--this time in alarm.Slinn had staggered to his feet with ashen and distorted features, andwas glancing at the letter whi
ch Don Caesar had drawn from his pocket.The muscles of his throat swelled as if he was swallowing; his lipsmoved, but no sound issued from them. At last, with a convulsiveeffort, he regained a disjointed speech, in a voice scarcely audible.

  "My letter! my letter! It's mine! Give it me! It's my fortune--allmine! In the tunnel--hill! Masters stole it--stole my fortune! Stoleit all! See, see!"

  He seized the letter from Don Caesar with trembling hands, and tore itopen forcibly: a few dull yellow grains fell from it heavily, likeshot, to the ground.

  "See, it's true! My letter! My gold! My strike! My--my--my God!"

  A tremor passed over his face. The hand that held the letter suddenlydropped sheer and heavy as the gold had fallen. The whole side of hisface and body nearest Don Caesar seemed to drop and sink into itself assuddenly. At the same moment, and without a word, he slipped throughDon Caesar's outstretched hands to the ground. Don Caesar bent quicklyover him, but no longer than to satisfy himself that he lived andbreathed, although helpless. He then caught up the fallen letter, and,glancing over it with flashing eyes, thrust it and the few specimens inhis pocket. He then sprang to his feet, so transformed with energy andintelligence that he seemed to have added the lost vitality of the manbefore him to his own. He glanced quickly up and down the highway.Every moment to him was precious now; but he could not leave thestricken man in the dust of the road; nor could he carry him to thehouse; nor, having alarmed his daughters, could he abandon hishelplessness to their feeble arms. He remembered that his horse wasstill tied to the garden fence. He would fetch it, and carry theunfortunate man across the saddle to the gate. He lifted him withdifficulty to the boulder, and ran rapidly up the road in the directionof his tethered steed. He had not proceeded far when he heard thenoise of wheels behind him. It was the up stage coming furiouslyalong. He would have called to the driver for assistance, but eventhrough that fast-sweeping cloud of dust and motion he could see thatthe man was utterly oblivious of anything but the speed of his rushingchariot, and had even risen in his box to lash the infuriated andfrightened animals forward.

  An hour later, when the coach drew up at the Red Dog Hotel, the driverdescended from the box, white, but taciturn. When he had swallowed aglass of whiskey at a single gulp, he turned to the astonished expressagent, who had followed him in.

  "One of two things, Jim, hez got to happen," he said, huskily. "Eitherthat there rock hez got to get off the road, or I have. I've seed HIMon it agin!"