Gold Part 40

"Shave her!" yelled some genius.

That idea caught hold. The entire gathering took an interest in the operation, which half a dozen men performed. They shaved that poor old mare from nose to the tip of her ratlike tail. Not even an eye-winker was left to her. She resembled nothing so much as one of the sluglike little Mexican hairless dogs we had seen on the Isthmus. The brands now showed plainly enough, but were as complicated as ever in appearance.

Thunders of mock forensic oratory shook the air. I remember defence acknowledged that in that multiplicity of lines the figure of Chino's brand could be traced; but pointed to the stars of the heavens and the figures of their constellations to prove what could be done by a vivid imagination in evolving fancy patterns. By this time it was late, and court was adjourned until next week.

The following Sunday, after a tremendous legal battle, conducted with the relis.h.i.+ng solemnity with which Americans like to take their fooling, it was decided to call in an expert on brands, and a certain California rancher ten miles distant was agreed upon.

"But," objected the defence, "he is a countryman of the complainant.

However honest, he will nevertheless sympathize with his own blood.

Before the case is put before him, he should view these brands as an unprejudiced observer. I suggest that they be transcribed to paper and submitted to him without explanation."

This appealed to the crowd. The astonished mare was again led out, and careful drawings made of her most remarkable sides. Then the case was again adjourned one week.

On that day the Californian was on hand, very grave, very much dressed up, very flattered at being called as an expert in anything. The drawing was laid before him.

"Don Luis," said the court formally, "what do you, as expert, make of that?"

Don Luis bent his grave Spanish head over the doc.u.ment for some minutes.

Then he turned it upside down and examined it again; sideways; the other end. When he looked up a little twinkle of humour lurked deep in his black eyes, but his face was solemn and ceremonious.

"Well, Don Luis," repeated the court, "what do you make of it?"

"Senor," replied Don Luis courteously, "it looks to me like a most excellent map of Sonora."

When the crowd had quieted down after this, the court ordered the animal brought forth.

"May it please y'r honour, the critter got a chill and done died,"

announced the cadaverous Missourian, to whose care the animal had been confided.

"H'm," said the court. "Well, here's the court's decision in this case.

Pio Chino fined one drink for taking up our valuable time; Abe Sellers fined one drink for claiming such an old crow-bait on any grounds; Sam is fined one drink for not putting a blanket on that mare." ("I only got one blanket myself!" cried the grieved Missourian.) "The fines must be paid in to the court at the close of this session."

Hugely tickled, the meeting arose. Pio Chino, to whom the tidings of his bell mare's demise was evidently news, stood the picture of dejected woe. His downcast figure attracted the careless attention of one of the men.

"Here boys!" he yelled, s.n.a.t.c.hing off his hat. "This ain't so d.a.m.n funny for Chino here!" He pa.s.sed the hat among the crowd. They tossed in gold, good-naturedly, abundantly, with a laugh. n.o.body knows what amount was dumped into the astounded Chino's old sombrero; but the mare was certainly not worth over fifteen dollars. If some one had dragged Chino before that same gathering under unsupported accusation of any sort, it would as cheerfully and thoughtlessly have hung him.

Of the gambling places, one only--that conducted by Danny Randall and called the Bella Union--inspired any sort of confidence. The other two were frequented by a rough, insolent crew, given to sudden silences in presence of newcomers, good-humoured after a wild and disconcerting fas.h.i.+on, plunging heavily at the gaming tables and drinking as heavily at the bars. This is not to imply that any strong line of demarcation existed between the habitues of one or the other of these places. When an inhabitant of Italian Bar started out for relaxation, he visited everything there was to visit, and drifted impartially between Morton's, Randall's Bella Union, and the Empire. There was a good deal of noise and loud talk in any of them; and occasionally a pistol shot. This was generally a signal for most of the bystanders to break out through the doors and windows, and for the gayly inclined to shoot out the lights.

The latter feat has often been cited admiringly as testifying to a high degree of marksmans.h.i.+p, but as a matter of fact the wind and concussion from the heavy revolver bullets were quite sufficient to put out any lamp to which the missiles pa.s.sed reasonably close. Sometimes these affrays resulted in material for the Sunday inquests; but it is astonis.h.i.+ng how easily men can miss each other at close range. Most of the shootings were the results of drunken quarrels. For that reason the professed gunmen were rarely involved. One who possessed an established reputation was let alone by the ordinary citizen; and most severely alone by the swaggering bullies, of whom there were not a few. These latter found prey for their queer stripe of vanity among the young, the weak, and the drunken. I do not hesitate to say that any man of determined character could keep out of trouble even in the worst days of the camp, provided he had no tempting wealth, attended to his own affairs, and maintained a quiet though resolute demeanour.

When in camp Johnny and his two companions shone as bright particular stars. They were only boys, and they had blossomed out in wonderful garments. Johnny had a Californian sombrero with steeple crown loaded with silver ornaments, and a pair of Spanish spurs heavily inlaid with the same metal, a Chinese scarf about his neck, and a short jacket embroidered with silver thread. But most astonis.h.i.+ng of all was a large off-colour diamond set in a ring, through which he ran the ends of his scarf. Parenthetically, it was from this that he got his sobriquet of Diamond Jack. I had a good deal of fun laughing at Johnny, but he didn't mind.

"This diamond," he pointed out, "is just as good as gold dust, it's easier carried, and I can have some fun out of it."

I am afraid he and Old Hickory Pine and Cal Marsh did a bit of swaggering while in town. They took a day to the down trip, and jogged back in a day and a half, stopping in Sacramento only the extra half day. Then they rested with us one day, and were off the next. Thus they accomplished seven or eight trips in the month. Both Old and Cal had the reputation of being quick, accurate shots, although I have never seen them perform. As the three of them were absolutely inseparable they made a formidable combination that nothing but an organized gang would care to tackle. Consequently they swaggered as much as they pleased. At bottom they were good, clean, attractive boys, who were engaged in an adventure that was thrilling enough in sober reality, but which they loved to deck forth in further romance. They one and all a.s.sumed the stern, aloof, lofty pose of those whose affairs were too weighty to permit mingling with ordinary amus.e.m.e.nts. Their speech was laconic, their manners grave, their att.i.tude self-contained. It was a good thing, I believe; for outside the fact that it kept them out of quarrels, it kept them also out of drinking and gambling.

I made many acquaintances of course, but only a few friends. The best of these were Dr. Rankin and Danny Randall. Strangely enough, these two were great pals. Danny had a little room back of the Bella Union furnished out with a round table, a dozen chairs, and a sofa. Here he loved to retire with his personal friends to sip drinks, smoke, and to discuss all sorts of matters. A little gla.s.sless window gave into the Bella Union, and as the floor of the little room was raised a foot or so, Danny sat where he could see everything that went on. These gatherings varied in number, but never exceeded the capacity of the dozen chairs. I do not know how Danny had caused it to be understood that these were invitation affairs, but understood it was, and no one ever presumed to intrude unbidden into the little room. Danny selected his company as the fancy took him.

As to why he should so often have chosen me I must again confess ignorance. Perhaps because I was a good listener. If so, the third member of a very frequent triumvirate, Dr. Rankin, was invited for the opposite quality. The doctor was a great talker, an a.n.a.lyst of conditions, and a philosophical spectator. The most frequent theme of our talks was the prevalence of disorder. On this subject the doctor had very decided views.

"There is disorder because we s.h.i.+rk our duty as a community," he stated, "and we s.h.i.+rk our duty as a community because we believe in our hearts that we aren't a community. What does Jones or Smith or Robinson or anybody else really care for Italian Bar as a place; or, indeed, for California as a place? Not a tinker's d.a.m.n! He came out here in the first place to make his pile, and in the second place to have a good time. He isn't dependent on any one's good opinion, as he used to be at home. He refuses to be bothered with responsibilities and he doesn't need to be. Why a pan miner needn't even speak to his next neighbour unless he wants to; and a cradle miner need bother only with his partners!"

"Miners' meetings have done some pretty good legislation," I pointed out.

"Legislation; yes!" cried the doctor. "Haven't you discovered that the American has a perfect genius for organization? Eight coal heavers on a desert island would in a week have a full list of officers, a code of laws, and would be wrangling over ridiculous parliamentary points of order in their meetings. That's just the trouble. The ease with which Americans can sketch out a state on paper is an anodyne to conscience.

We get together and pa.s.s a lot of resolutions, and go away with a satisfied feeling that we've really done something."

"But I believe a camp like this may prove permanent," objected Randall.

"Exactly. And by that very fact a social obligation comes into existence. Trouble is, every mother's son tries to escape it in his own case. What is every one's business is no one's business. Every fellow thinks he's got away from being bothered with such things. Sooner or later he'll find out he hasn't, and then he'll have to pay for his vacation."

"We never stood for much thieving at Hangman's Gulch," I interposed.

"What did you do?"

"We whipped and sent them about their business."

"To some other camp. You merely pa.s.sed on your responsibility; you didn't settle it. Your whipping merely meant turning loose a revengeful and desperate man. Your various banishments merely meant your exchanging these fiends with the other camps. It's like scattering the coyotes that come around your fire."

"What would you do, Doctor?" asked Randall quietly; "we have no regular law."

"Why not? Why don't you adopt a little regular law? You need about three in this camp--against killing, against thievery, and against a.s.sault.

Only enforce in every instance, as far as possible."

"You can't get this crowd to take time investigating the troubles of some man they never heard of."

"Exactly."

"And if they get too bad," said Danny, "we'll have to get the stranglers busy."

"Confound it, man!" roared Dr. Rankin, beating the table, "that's just what I've been trying to tell you. You ought not to care so much for punis.h.i.+ng as for deterring. Don't you know that it's a commonplace that it isn't the terrifying quality of the penalty that acts as a deterrent to crime, but it's the certainty of the penalty! If a horse thief knows that there's merely a chance the community will get mad enough to hang him, he'll take that chance in hopes this may not be the time. If, on the other hand, he knows that _every time_ he steals a horse he's going to be caught and fined even, he thinks a long time before he steals it."

"All that's true, Doctor," said Danny, "as theory; but now I'm coming to bat with a little practice. Here's the camp of Italian Bar in the year 1849. What would you do?"

"Elect the proper officers and enforce the law," answered the doctor promptly.

"Who would you elect?"

"There are plenty of good men here."

"Name me any one who would take the job. The good men are all was.h.i.+ng gold; and they're in a hurry to finish before the rains. I don't care who you're about to name--if anybody; this is about what he'd say: 'I can't afford to leave my claim; I didn't come out here to risk my life in that sort of a row; I am leaving for the city when the rains begin, and I don't know that I'll come back to Italian Bar next season!'"

"Make it worth their while. Pay them," insisted the doctor stoutly.

"And how's the money to pay them to be collected? You'd have to create the officers of a government--and pay _them_."

"Well, why not?"

"At the election, who would take interest to elect a decent man, even if you could get hold of one? Not the other decent men. They're too busy, and too little interested. But the desperadoes and hard characters would be very much interested in getting some of their own stripe in office.

The chances are they would be coming back to Italian Bar next season, especially if they had the legal machinery for keeping themselves out of trouble. You'd simply put yourself in their power."