第1章

ForewordSomanyinquirieshavebeenmadeastoexactlywhere，andwhatisthe"MotherLode"!

Thegeologistandthehistorianagreeastoitslocationandcomposition，buttheoldminersand"sojourners"ofthevanishedgoldeneragivestrangelydifferentversionsofit。Someoftheseareheresetdown，ifnotallforyourenlightenmentatleast，Ihope，foryourentertainment。

Thatis，afterall，theprincipalaimofthesetalesoftheolddaysinCalifornia，thataregone"forgood。"MarkTwainsaysinhisprefaceto"RoughingIt"thatthereisagreatdealofinformationinhisworkwhichheregretsverymuchbutwhichreallycouldnotbehelped，as"informationseemstostewoutofmenaturally，likethepreciousottarofrosesoutoftheotter"!

Thesestoriesmakenosuchparticularclaim!Theyaremerelyhistoricalfragmentsoftheireverydaylife，gatheredfromapassinggenerationbeforetheyshallbefinallylost。Eachoneisbasedupontruth。

Somewhere，sometime，someplace，certaincharacterslivedthescenesandactionsheredescribed。

Thetitle"MotherLode"hasbeenusedinitsbroadersenseasexemplifyingthesourceofallgoldinCalifornia，andthelifewhicharosefromit。

Theminingengineersaid："TheMotherLoderunssouthfromElDoradoCountytothelowerboundaryofMariposaCounty。ItstretchespastthetownsofSutterCreek，Jackson，SanAndreas，Angel’sCampandtheroadtoYosemitefardownbelowCoulterville。Thelodebeginssuddenlyandendsassuddenly，andthoughwehavesearchedupanddownthestatewehaveneverbeenabletopickitupagain。"

"HasitanyrelationtotheComstockLode？"wasasked。

"Nonewhatever。Curiouslyenough，inNevadaCityandvicinityitwouldappearthatatonetimeintheearth’smaking，agreatfissureopenedinformingCaliforniaandawedgeofNevadaminingcountrywaspushedintoit。NorthoftheretheCaliforniastratasbeginagain。"

"ButitwasalwaysmybeliefthattheselocalitieswereontheMotherLode，aswellastheGeorgetownandAuburncountry。"

"Manypersonsareapparentlyunderthatimpression，butthegeologicalsurveysofthegovernmentplaceitintheexactlocationIhavegivenyou。"

The"OldMiner，’49er，"said："Wehuntedmostallo’ourlives，lookin’

forher!WecalledhertheMotherLode，becausewethoughtthatallthegoldinthestatemusta’comefromheran’washeddowntheriversontothebarswherewefoundit。Wethoughtshe’dbepuregold，an’ahundredfeetwidean’goon，worldwithoutend。Welooked，an’looked，an’afterquartzminin’comein，wedugan’dug，butweneverfoundtheoldgirlexceptin’herean’there。

"JoeDance，thatoldprospectorthatdiedlastyear，helosthismindlookin’forthebiglode。Madesomerichstrikesinhisday，Joedid，buthenevercouldstoptowork’em。Hewasalwayswaitin’forthemotherof’emall，hesaid，who’dputhimontheroadtothehearta’

moltengoldinthemiddlea’theearth。

"Weoldfellowstrampedallthewaythroughthehillswithonlyaburroforcompanymosta’thetime，an’you’llridedownabroadpavedway，soon，inyourautomobile。You’llgoindays，whereittookusmonths，an’somebrainyyoungengineerwilllocatetheoldgirl，mostlikely，innew—fangledwaysthatwereunknowninourtime。

"Well，theworldwhirlsfast，now—a—days。Guessthey’llneedallthegoldintheoldgirl’slaptokeepongreasin’themachinery。Itakeoffmyhattothisgeneration。Ihopethey’llfindit!"

Hittellsays："TheMotherLodeisoneofthemostextraordinarymetalliferousveinsintheworld。Gold—bearinglodesusuallyrangeonlyfiveorsixmiles，butthiscanbetracedformorethansixty。Therockisahardandwhitequartz，richinveryfineparticlesofgold，andtheveinvariesinwidthfromafoottothirtyfeet。

"Thereareinsomeportionsofitscoursesidebranchesorcompanionveins，astheyaresometimescalled，makingthetotalwidthnearlyonehundredfeet。Noristhedirectionofthelodealwaysinastraightline。Thoughusuallyfoundwithinhalfamileofwhatmaybeconsidereditsnormalcourse，itissometimesfoundasfarastwoorthreemilesfromit，andtherearecasesofotherlodes（three，inall）entirelydistinct，whichinsomeinstancesapproachsocloseastobeconfoundedwithit。"

Therearenumerousminesalongthewholelengthofthelode，famousforhavingyieldedtheirmillions。Onequartzledgeissaidtohaveyieldedforalongtime，two—thirdsgold。TheysayoftheMorganMine，atCarson’sCreeknearMelones，"Itappearedtoberichbeyondparallel。Ononeoccasion$110，000。00worthofgoldwasthrowndownatasingleblast。"

ManyexpeditionsweremadeinsearchofthefabledGreatLodebutallattemptswerevain。

’Theoldspread—eaglejudgesaid："Yes，sir；theMotherLodedipsupinabitofacirclewithnobeginningandnoend，inthewesternfoothillsoftheSierraMountains。DownaboutMelones，andSonora，andAngel’sCampitgoes，andthroughTableMountain，andunderJackassHill。Itcomesnorth，andnorth，pastColoma，andAuburn，toNevadaCityandthenitdisappears。"

Irememberedtheengineer’sstatement，butwassilent。

"ItwasthehauntofHarte，andTwain，andCanfieldinthenorth；itwasthebankofsuchmenasHopkins，Crocker，HuntingtonandStanford；thefoundationofoneofthegreateststatesintheUnion，theMotherLode，theMotherofGold!"

"Child，myoldeyeshavewatcheditspreadfornearlyninetyyears—thepowerofgold，andofthemenwhocametoseekit，Theinfluenceofgoldcontrolledbythehumanintellect。IamoldandtiredandsoonIshallsleep，buttheoldseeclearly，tooclearly，thatwhichtheyareleaving，andthattowhichtheypass。"

"’Thus，facingthestars，wegooutamongstthemintodarkness’，"I

quoted，softly。

"Nottodarkness，buttoeternallight，toriseagainfromtheMotherLodetomingleinthebusylivesofmen。"

"’WhomakethHismessengerswithtwo，andthree，andfourpairsofwings’。"

"Exactly。Tobebornagain，andyetagain。Therealmother—veinofgoldwasimbuedinthemenshapedbythelifeofthefrontier。Itwasthecornerstoneofgreatfortunes，offamilies，ofenterprises，ofachievementswhicharepeculiarlyCalifornia’sown。

"ItwastheclearinghouseandopensesameofthevasttradeoftheOrientwhichisjustcomingintobeing；thefoundationforthebridgeofgoldwhichshallreachacrosstheseas；afitmonumenttoposteritywhichshallbeerectedwithallthelightnessandgraceandstabilityofthepresentculturedgenerations，bornwiththeirfeetintheflowersgrownfromthemother—goldofdecentmanhoodandgloriouswomanhood—

thepreciousmetalsofthespirit，unalloyedandunafraid。

"TheyarethetrueMotherLode，thebourneoftheseekersofgold，greater，far，thanthecrazedbrainsoftheoldprospectorshadthepowertoconceive。Afurther—reaching，broaderarcthanthemostwondrousrainbowoftheirimaginingsbornofdreams，andbuiltofhungeranddespair。"

"Soshallwefind，atlast，theMotherLode，thevirginityoftheessenceofcreation，thebeginningandtheend。Thecurveofthecirclewhichisunchanging，insoluble，omniscient；whichshallreturntothatwhichcreatedit；whichisall；whichisGod!"

"’49"

"Wehaveworkedourclaims，Wehavespentourgold，Ourbarksareastrandonthebars；

Wearebatteredandold，YetatnightwebeholdOutcroppingsofgoldinthestars。

Wheretherabbitsplay，WherethequailalldayPipeonthechaparralhill；

Afewmoredays，AndthelastofuslaysHispickasideandisstill。

Wearewreckandstray，Wearecastaway，Poorbatteredoldhulksandspars!

Butwehopeandpray，OnthejudgmentDay，Weshallstrikeit，upinthestars。

—JoaquinMiller。

ContentsOneSundayinStinson’sBarTheTomBellStrongholdTheHangingofCharliePriceRattlesnakeDickIndianVengeanceGrizzlyBobofSnakeGulchCurleyCopperstheJackTheRaceoftheShoestringGamblersTheDragonandtheTomahawkTheBarstowLynchingOneSundayinStinson’sBarI

"Onthatbroadstageofempirewon，Whosefootlightswerethesettingsun；

WhoseflatsadistantbackgroundroseIntracklesspeaksofendlesssnows；

Heregeniusbows，andtalentwaitsTocopythatbutOnecreates。"

—BretHarte。

Now—a—dayswhenyouwanttogofromSanFranciscototheSierraNevadacountryyoustepintoyourperfectlygoodPackard（orwhateveritis—

allthewaydowntoamotorcyclesidecar），andyouferryacrossthebayandthestraits，andifthemotor—copisn’taround，youcomeshootingupthehighwayfortymilesanhour，andattheendofagloriousfive—hourrunyouarethere。

Intheearlyfifties—whentherewaslesstosee，too—youtookmoretimetoit。YoucametoSacramentoontheriverboat。Thenifyouwererich，youboughtahorseoramuleandrodefortherestofyourjourney。Ifyouwerepoor，orthriftyperhaps，youwalked，ortriedtogetarideononeoftheox—freightteamswhichpliedtheirwayacrossHagginGranttoAuburnandDutchFlat，ortoFolsomandColoma。

LaterarailwaywasbuiltasfarasAuburnstation，thensituatedatapointthreemileseastofLoomiswhichwasatthattimecalledPino。

NothingremainsofAuburnstation。Buttheroadbedoftheoldrailwayisstilltobefoundincertainwoodedtractswhichhavenotgivenwaytothefruitranches；andthehighwayfromFairOaksintoFolsomfollowstheoldcutsandgradesforseveralmiles。

InthedaysprecedingandimmediatelyfollowingthediscoveryofgoldinCalifornia，buildingwasverydifficult。Everystickoflumberinmygrandfather’shousecamebyship"aroundtheHorn，"andthefruittreesgrapevines，flowers，evenbees，forhislovelygarden：wereallsentfromEurope。

Inthesmallersettlementstherewasseldommorethanonelargebuildingwhichcouldbeusedforsocialpurposes，andthiswasoftenthecardroomorbarroominconnectionwiththehotelofthetown。

SohereisthetalethatwastoldofoneSundayinStinson’sbarroom，inthelate’50satAuburnStation：

TheytriedtogiveaballonceayearatStinson’s。Personscametoitfrom30milesabout，particularlyiftheywerewomen，andeverywomandividedeachdanceamongfourmen。Whenamaninvitedaladytocometoadance，inmanyinstancesheinsistedupontheprivilegeofbuyingherasilkengownandslipperstowear，andthiswasnotconsideredunusual，norwassheinanywayobligatedtohimforit。Thereweresofew"ladies"thattheyweretreatedaslittleshortofdivinities。

ThisSaturdaynighttherehadbeennodance，andthemenatGentlemanJack’stableatStinson’shadplayed"three—cardmonte"onthroughthedawnandthesunrise，andintobroaddaylight。Thedoorwaspushedopen，lettinginarushofcool，sweetairwhichgutteredthecandlessetinoldbottles，anddrovetheheavyfogoftobaccosmoketowardtheblackenedceiling。Avoiceboomedforth：

"Comeon，now，gentlemen。Twoladieshavecomewithposiesintallsilvervasesandawhitealtarclothforthistable。Thepreacher’scomingoverfromFolsom，andtherewillbechurchheldhereinonehour。

He’sabusymantoday。Aninfantwillbegivenalicensetotravelthelonganduncertainroadtoheaven，andapairofhappyloverswillbemadeone。"

"One—unhappypair。"

It’sWilliamDuncan。He’sintoxicatedagain，"drawledGentlemanJack，stretchinghisgracefullengthandsmilingatalong，aristocraticfigurecrouchedoverasmalltableinacorner。"Hislaststriketurnedouttobeonlyasmallpocket，andsohedrownshiswoesinliquor，asusual。"Hebowedtohisrecentcardpartners。"Gentlemen，Iamsincerelysorryforyourlossesthisnight。Ishallsleepanhourbeforetheholymanarrives。Hesaunteredout，stuffingabuckskinbagofgolddustintohispocket。

"Thereliesmypocket—inhispocket，"mutteredDuncan。"No，Stinson"

raisinghisvoiceauthoritatively，"Ishallnotgoout。Itismydesiretoprayformysinstoday***andtherehasalettercomefromoverseaswhichImustread—ifIcan。IfIcan—"

Inanhourtheroomwasclearedofsmoke，greasycards，pokerchipsandemptybottles。Thebarwasinasmallroomapart。Thepokertable，supplementedwithabox，wascoveredwithahandsomealtarclothflankedbyhugesilvercandlesticksandvaseswhichhadbeencarriedacrosstheplains。Everyindividualinthecommunitycametochurchandstayedafterwardforthechristening。Atleasttwentymenexpressedawishtobegod—fathertothebabyandtheproudmotheracceptedalloffers。Whenthechristeningwasover，WilliamDuncanlurchedtohisfeet，hishigh—bredfacefulloftenderness，hislong—fingered，finegrainedhandspoisedovertherosychild，whilehequoted：

"Maytimewhoshedshisblighto’erall，Anddailydoomssomejoytodeath。

O’ertheeletyearssogentlyfall，Theyshallnotcrushoneflowerbeneath!"

"Ah，’herecomesthebride!’’Alltheworld’sastage!’Letusonwiththenextscene，"andhereeledbacktohislittletableinthecorner。

Thekissingandcongratulationsaftertheweddingwereinterruptedbytheshoutsofamanonhorseback，andridinghard。

"Where’stheminister？SendforDocMiller!ThatbeastofaMexicanhorsethief—he’shotJimMuldoondownatDolton’sBar。Jimcaughthe’sstealinghishorseandI’mafraidthedirtygreaser’skilledhim。Wegot’im，though，beforeheskipped。SomebodygodowntoRattlesnakeforDocMiller。They’rebringing’embothhere。"

WhenDocMillersawMuldoonstretchedonthebarroomtable，thesametablewhichafewminutesbeforehadservedasanaltarheshookhishead。

"Hewillbegoneinhalfanhour，"hesaid。Themenstandingaboutbegantakingofftheirhats。

"Iwishtowritehome，"whisperedMuldoon。Theyoungmotherhandedherbabytoitsfatherandseizingpencilandpaper，ranforward。Theministeropenedhisprayerbookattheserviceforthedying。

Whenthatservicehadbeenread，andwhathadbeenMuldooncarriedawaytobemadereadyforthelastsleep，onlytheministerandthetallEnglishmanwereleftinthebar—room。

"Inthemidstoflifeweareindeath，"mutteredDuncan。

"True，"rebukedtheother"solivewellthelifewhichtheLord，thyGod，hathprovidedthee。"WillDuncanlaughedaloud。

"Itistoolate，Man—o’—God!Thereisnoplaceintheworldforayoungerson。"Theministerhadnotheard。Hesprangtowardtheopenwindow，calling：

"Wait!Itiswritten—’Thoushaltnotkill!’Bringhimin，likejustandhonestmen，forahearing。HemaybeahorsethiefandamurdererbutyoushalltaketheropefromhisneckandheshallspeakinhisowndefensebeforehegoestohisMaker。"

Soahearingwasgiven（althoughgrudgingly，andwithaudiblegrumbling）

bythefriendsofMuldoonacrossthetablewhichhadsolatelybeenhisbier，butintheendtheytooktheMexicanoutfortheshort—cuttoretribution。

Twohourslater，aroundthesametablewassolemnizedthefuneralserviceofJimMuldoon。Theministerwouldnotreturnforsixweeks。Itmustbeheldatonce。GentlemanJackgaveasuitoffinestblackbroadclothforashroud。andthelittlebride，keepingoneflowerfromherweddingbouquet，placedtherestinthedeadman’shands。Shekissedhimsoftlyonhisforehead，whisperingthroughhertears。"Fortheonesathomewholovedyou，"andstoodwatchingassixmencarriedhimawaytothetinycemeteryunderthetrees。onahill。

VesperserviceswereoverandthewearyministerandhiscongregationhadgonebeforeDuncanfoundcouragetoopenandreadhisletter。Hiselderbrother，heirtothetitleandgreathousesandlandedestatesofhisfamily，hadbeenkilledinthehuntingfieldandhe，beingnextinline，wastocomehometosucceedtotheposition。

He，William—Duncan—Claibourne—Earlof—butno，hisfamilynamehadneverbeentoldinCalifornia。

Portionsoftheserviceshehadheardthatdaydriftedthroughhismind：

"WhosoevershallnotreceivethekingdomofGodasalittlechild，heshallnotentertherein。***Wedosignhimwiththesignofthecrossintokenhereafterthatheshallmanfullyfightagainstthesin，theworld，andthedevil；andtocontinueChrist’sfaithfulsoldieruntohislife’send。"So，thechildstartingonhisearthlyjourneywiththeminister’sblessingandthebackingoftwentygod—fathers!

TheholyoldchurchservicewhichhehadheardathomeinstatelyEnglishcathedrals—thenuggetsinthecontributionplate—theradiantbridewhohadcomeacrosstheplainstohear"DearlyBeloved，Wearegatheredtogether，"standingbesidethemansheloved。Theserviceforthedying："WhenweshallhaveservedtheeinourgenerationwemaybegathereduntoourFathers，havingthetestimonyofagoodconscience，theconfidenceofacertainfaith，infavorwithTheeourGod，andinperfectcharitywiththeworld。"So，JimMuldoon，cutdownbeforehistime，andhisslayeroutthereinthedarknessontheendofarope。

Thedyingcandlepickedoutinflameawitheredcabbageroseunderthetable；ababy’smitten，theletterwrittenforthemanwhohaddied，theMexican’ssombreroonachair，thegiltsunandmoonandstarsontheglassfaceofthegrandfatherclockbythewindow。

Duncan’sheadfellforwardinhisclaspedarmsonthetable，andinhisdreamsheheardthehuntsman’ssilverhornfromacrosstheseascallinghimhometocarryonthedestinyoftheancientandhonorablenamewhichwashis。His"strikeofpayore"inhis"landofgold。"

Thecandlewickinashallowpooloftallowflaredhigh，andwentout。

Theoldclockchimedtwelve。

TheTomBellStrongholdII

"Yousmile，Opoet，andwhatdoyou？

Youleanfromyourwindowandwatchlife’scolumnTramplingandstrugglingthroughdustanddew，Filledwithitspurposesgraveandsolemn；

Anact，agesture，aface—whoknows？

Andyoupluckfromyourbosomtheversethatgrows，Anddownitflieslikemyred，redrose，Andyousitanddreamasawayitgoes，Andthinkthatyourdutyisdone—now，don’tyou？"

—BretHarte。

IntheearlydaysitwascalledtheMountaineerHouse。Nowitiscolloquiallyknownasthe"stonehouse，"andhasforsixtyyearsbeenthehomeoftheOwenKingfamily。Itissurroundedtodaybyoneofthemostbeautifulorchardsinthefoothills。Wideverandahsofthenativegraygranitetomatchtheoldhouseitselfhavebeenadded。Itiselectricallylightedandfurnaceheated，modernineveryway，yetstilltheromanceofformertimesseemstoclingtoitssturdyoldwalls。

Allthatremainunchangedarethreehugetreesflankingthehighwayinfront。Whattalestheycouldtell，iftheywould，ofwhatpassedbythejunctionoftworoadsbeneaththem。OfthelongandwearycaravansfromacrosstheplainscrawlingupfromthebridgeatWhiskeyBar，belowRattlesnake，gladthattheirsixmonths’strugglewasnearlyover：ofhorsemenonbeautifulSpanishhorsesridingfuriously，whithernooneknewnordaredask；ofdarkdeedsintheoldstonehousebelow，thatwassoinscrutablyquietbydayandsomysteriouslyalivebynight；ofghastlydoingsbytheTomBellgangwhichrangedallthewayfromtheOregonbordertothesouthernlakes。

Theywillnevertellalltheyknow—thesebigoldtrees—ofthosewhowentinbythedoorand"cameoutbythecellar"ofTomBell’sstronghold。Intheendtheplacefell，inthewarbetweenorderandlawlessnessand，asthepessimistslovetoassert，awoman，asusual，wasthecauseofit。Thetaleistold：

RosaPhillipssatintheMountaineerHousestrummingaSpanishguitar，andsinging，"There’saturneddownpage，assomewritersays，ineveryhumanlife，Ahiddenstoryofhappierdays，ofpeaceamidstthestrife。

Afoldeddownleafwhichtheworldknowsnot。Alovedreamrudelycrushed，Thesightofafacethatisnotforgot。Althoughthevoicebehushed。"

Sheroseandstoodatawindow，holdingthedustycurtainasidewithonewhitehandandpeeringcautiouslyforthintothedusk。AhorsewasgallopinguptheFolsomroad。Thehorsemanwasnear—wasunderthetreesinfront—waspast—andgonedowntheriverroadwithoutslackeninghisanimal’srapidgait。

"HedoesnotstopattheMountaineerHousethesedays，"saidTomBell’ssneeringvoiceatherelbow。"ThereisanewactressattheoperahouseinRattlesnake。"

Thewoman’sdarkeyesflashed，butsheansweredevenlyenough：

"Hedoesnotstop，thehandsomeDick，soyou，senor，havenotthecausetobejealous。Isitnotso？"

"Cause？Why，youSpanishjade，you’veneverbeenthesametomesinceRattlesnakeDickcameprowlingbackfromShastacountytohisoldhauntsinPlacer。"Rosa’sthin，redlipscurled。

"Senor，Iamwhatitpleasesmetobe。"

"AndJackPhillipspermitsyoutobe!"

Sheshruggedherslendershoulders。

"Heweariesme。Life—thisplace—weariesme。"

"Yes，andIwearyyou，too—now。Plainasday，itis。"

ThePhillipswomansmiled（sheseldomlaughed）andtherewasonlycrueltyinhersmile—nokindliness，nowomanlysoftnessofanysort。

"Myfriend，soontherewillbeno’you。’Thenightiscomingandtherewillbenosunrise。"

Amandismountedatthegateandledhishorsepastthewindowtothestablesinthecellar。Hewalkedwithacurious，haltingpace。

"There’sJimDriscollbackalready。Mustbringnews，"saidBell，leavingherhurriedly，andsoneglectingtoaskthemeaningofhercrypticremark。

Rosaslippedinbehindthebar，latethatevening，beautifullygowned，andwithherdarkhairdressedhigh。Hervividfaceglowedlikeascarletpoppyandwasbrightwithsmiles。Threeorfourmeninthecrowdedbar—roomrosetotheirfeetanddranktoherbrighteyesandstrolledacrosstothebar。

"Soonnow’"shewhispered，"Ishallsweepoutthelights。Thosetwowhohavejustentered—whoarethey？"Shewentacrosstheroomtothenewcomers。"Thesenorsmaypaymeforthedrinks，iftheydesire，"shesaidtothem，meaningly。

"LaRositashalltakewhatpleasesher，"oneofthemlaughed。Amongthehandfulofcoinsandsmallnuggetshebroughtfromhispocketwasabulletstrungonabitofdirtytwine。

"Ah!alovetoken，senor？"

"Yes，fromthethroatofBetsyJane"（atermoftenusedforarifle）。

"Intwentyminutes，myfriends，therewillbeopenedachuteintopurgatoryforallwhoareinthisbarroom。Your’lovetoken’namesyouSenorBell’smen。Beforethenyouwillseektherearoftheroom—eh？"

Shedriftedawayfromthemtopauseatasmalltablewheresatayoungmanalone。

"Andyou，prettyfellow，youarenewinCalifornia？"

"Yes，IlandedinSanFranciscoonlytendaysago。"Hewasnewindeed，orhewouldhaverealizedthedangeroftellinghisbusinesstothefirstpersonwhoasked。

"Yougofar，senor？"

"Notnow。Ihavecomefar，butmyjourneyisneartoaveryhappyending。"

"So？"

"Yes。IhavecometomarryMissElenaAshley，atAuburn，towhomIhavebeenlongbetrothed。"

Shetappedherwhiteteethwithherfan。

"AndyetyoulingeratMountaineerHouse？"

"Horsesareexpensive，andIamnotrich。Iwalked。Iwastired。Isawyouinyourgarden，andyouareverybeautiful。"

Rosa’scapriciousvanitywastouched。Thewhimseizedhertosavethisexuberantyoungbridegroomfromthefatebeforehim。

"Doyouseethatpeddler—oldRosenthal—closetothebar？Hebroughtinalargeandrichpacktonight。Itliesinthenextroom。Doyougothereatonce。Iwillcomesoon，andtogetherwewillselectagiftforyourbride。Goquickly!"

Shepassedagainbehindthebar。JackPhillipswasatoneend，lameJimDriscollattheother，TomBellinthemiddle。RosapausednearabranchingcandelabrawhichhadoncegracedthealtarofaSpanishchurch。

"IsJosebelow？"whisperedBell。Shenodded。"Whydidyousavethatboy，justnow？Anewlover？"Shedirecteduponhimalevelglanceofhate。

"Idowhatpleasesme，senor。"Sheraisedherarmhigh，beginningthefirststampingmeasureofaSpanishdance。Instantlytherewasacuriousrumblingnoiseinthestableunderneath。Rosasweptoverthecandelabra。

Allthelightsintheplacewerestruckout。PhillipsandDriscollslippedtwogreatbolts，andtheentirebar—roomfloorswungdownwardonhinges。

Thechutetopurgatorywasopen!

Therewasbedlaminthatdankpasstotheregionofshades，andnoquarterwasshowntoanyman；onlycriesof"TheString!TheString!"

frommembersoftheganginordertodistinguishtherobbersfromtherobbed，inthedarkness。Therewerecurses，thekickingandsquealingofhorsesintheirstalls；aversefromtheTalmudrecitedinYiddish（whichsuddenlystopped），andaboveitallthehighandhystericallaughofawoman。

Theboyturnedfromthepeddler’spackasRosaenteredtheroom。"Whatisthathorriblenoise？"

"Afight。Come，youhadbettergo。"Sheledhimdownadarkstairtoanothersectionofthecellar。"Jose，"shecalled。AnevillookingMexicanpushedopenaroughdoor。"Youshalltakethismanoutthroughthesecondtunnel。"

"Si，senora。"

"And，Jose，heshallreachtheouteropeningalive，andwithallhisbelongings。Hehasnomoney。Doyouhear？"Josegrunted。"Go，now，under，coverofthenoise。"

"ButthegiftforElena!"

Rosalaughedmockingly。"Whatachilditis!MygifttoElenatonight，isyou—herlover。Askhertothankmewithaprayerfromherpureheartformysins。"

Joseledtheyoungmanthroughalong，damp，evil—odoredpassageunderground，andoutthroughatrapdoorattheextremeendofthegarden。Ashrubgrewontopofthedoor，surroundedbyabedoffragrantwildpansies。Josekickedthestaringyouthawayfromtheentranceandvanishedintotheearthlooking，inthelantern—lightlikeamalevolentfiendreturningtotherealmofeverlastingfire。

*****

TheballswhichweregivenattheFranklinHouseontheoldPioneerroadwerethemostpretentiousoftheyear。Femininelovelinessinsilksandcameosgatheredfromeverysection。GeneralSutterandhisofficerssometimeswerethere，andtheSpanishgrandeesbroughttothemthelovely，star—eyedbeautiesoftheirhouseholds。

Onthisnightabrilliantassemblagestoodaboutintheballroomfloorreadyforaquadrille。ElenaAshleyandherbetrothedwerenearthewideentrancedoors。

"Thereis"SheriffPaulofCalaverasCounty，"shetoldhim。"Hedoesnotdance。Iwonderwhatbringshimhere？"

ThedoorsopenedandRosaPhillipsentered，magnificentlyjewelledanddressedinarichsilkofpearlgrey。Elenastared，clutchingatherpartner’sarm。

"Oh，look!"sheshrieked，"sheiswearingmyweddingdress。MyweddingdresswhichwasstitchedattheshopofRosenthalthepeddler，inSacramento，andwhichhewastobringmetwoweeksago。Iknowitismine!Thereisthepearlpasse—mentreonitthatwasmymother’s。ThereisnoneotherlikeitinCalifornia!"

"So？"answeredRosacooly，glancingdownatthevoluminoussilkenfoldsofherrobe。Thenshestoodwavingherbigfan，herlarge，darkeyesrovingacrossthethrong。

"MineHost"camequicklyforward。"Itisnotpermitted，senora，thatyou—"

Rosasmiledcynically。"I，thesilkenhawk，camenottoflutteryournestofdoves，senor。Icamebutforalittlehourtomeetamanwho—

Ah，heiscomingnow。SheriffPaul，Ihavethattotellyouwhich—"

Thesheriffofferedhisarmceremoniouslyandtheypassedoutoftheballroom。TenderheartedElenawasconsciencestricken。Shedroppedherlover’sarmanddartedafterthemthroughthebigdoors。

"Oh，Iamsorry，Ididnotmean—please，SheriffPaul，shemayhavethedress，poorthing!Butforher，Ishouldhavehadnomantomarryonmyweddingdaynextweek。"

SheriffPaulturnedquickly。Elena，frightened，clappedtwolittlehandsoverhermouth。Rosashruggedindifferently，andtippingbackhersmall，blackhead，listenedtothemusicintheballroom。

"Madam，"toRosa，"yousentforme，makingstrangepromiseswhich，forthesafetyofthiscommunity，Ihopethatyouarenowpleasedtokeep。"

Withoutloweringherchinshelookedathimthroughsinister，narrowedeyelids，andasmileoftriumphantmalicetouchedherface。

"Senor，ImakenopromiseswhichIfailtokeep，"sheanswered，"andthereisalsoapromisewhichImadeSenorTomBell—"

*****

"Thereissomeoneknockingatthecellardoor，"saidTomBelltoPhillips。"Seewhoisthere，andbecarefulthatyouletnooneinwithoutthebulletandthepassword。"

"Tom，I’mafraid，"whinedDriscoll"thatSpanishdevil’spromisedtogetyouhungmorethanoncelately，andlastnightIknowshesentthatMexicanJoseofhersoutsomewherewithastringandbullet。Isawthem—"

"What!Whydidn’tyoutellmebefore？Listen!Phillipsisintrouble!Gohelphim!Calltheboys!Hurry!"AsJimDriscoll，withahaltinhiswalk，lefthim，TomBellstolequietlytooneofthetunnelsandrantothetrap—doorwhichopenedintoanouthouse。

Hefoundthecorralfullofsaddle—horsesandtheMountaineerHousecompletelysurroundedbySheriffPaul’s，posse。

"Comeon，boys，"saidavoice。

"Didhegetin？"

"Ye—ah—puthishandinwiththebulletonastring，gothisfootinthedoor，gavethepasswordandheavedthedoorwideopen。Comeon，now，andthere’sordersnottotakethewoman，remember。"

BellstolearawbonedroanfromthecorralandwasfarfromthefrightfulbattleatMountaineerHousebeforehedaredburstforthintothevituperationwhichheheapeduponthenameofRosaPhillips。

*****

Rosasatstrummingherguitaridly，andmusingupontheeventsofthepastfewmonths。JackPhillipswasservingaterminprison。Driscollhadalsobeensenttothepenitentiary。Onedayarumorreachedherthathewasthreateningtoturnstate’sevidence，andtodivulgethetruthinregardtoRosenthal。

Threedayslateranironbarwasaccidentally（？）droppedonhishead；

throughsomemysteriousagenthewasgivenpoison，anddied。AtthememoryofitRosasmiledherenigmaticandimplacablesmile。TomBellwasatlargesomewherefartothenorthandshe—shewasrichnowandshewouldgobacktoMonterey，perhaps。Shedrewherguitarcloserandsang：

"Thefardistantsoundofaharp’ssoftstrings—anechoontheair，Thehiddenpagemaybefullofsweetthings，ofthingsthatoncewerefair。

There’saturneddownpageineachlife，andmine—astorymightunfold，Buttheendwassadofthedreamdivine。Itbetterrestsuntold。"

ItwastimeforHarlantoarrive。CharlieHarlan，themanwhomshehopedtocajoleintobuyingMountaineerHouse。ShestrolledoutintothegardenasHarlanrodeupandtiedhishorseunderoneofthetrees。

Ahappypairpassed。Adelicategirlmounteduponalittlemuleandasturdyyouthwalkinginthedust，hishanduponthebeast’sshoulder。

Withtheirsereneandjoy—illuminedfacestheysomehowsuggestedtheholyfamily，symbolicalofallthatwasdivineinasordidworld。

ThegirlsmiledandwavedtoRosa，buttheyoungmandoffedhishatcoldlyandhastenedby。

"ThesweetlittleElena，"saidRosatoherself，"andherlover—husband。

Iwearthesilkenweddinggownwhichnoloversees，butshetravelsthewayincalicowiththemansheloves。MaytheBlessedVirgingrantthatsheshallhavenoturneddownpagesinherlife，"andforcingherproudandbittermouthintoaprovocativesmile，shewentforwardtowelcomeHarlan。

TheHangingofCharliePriceIII

"Hegoestothewell，Andhestandsonthebrink，AndstopsforaspellJesttolistenandthink：

Let’ssee—well，thatforty—footgravewasn’this，sir，thatday，anyhow。"

—BretHarte。

EverywhereinthefoothillsoftheSierrastherearestillevidencesofgoldmining。Highcliffsfacetherivers，allthatisleftofhillstorndownatthepointofthepowerfulhydraulicnozzles，withgreatheapsofcobblesattheirbasewhichMotherNature，eveninseventyyearshasbeenunabletochangeorcover。

Atthemouthofnearlyeveryravinetherearecountlesslittlemoundswhichmarkedtheend，ordumpofthesluice—boxintheplacermining。

Whenthemoundgottheproperheightthesluicewassimplylengthened，likeputtinganotherjointontoacaterpillar—andthereyouwere!Thesluice—boxeshavelongsincebeenmovedawayorrottedtomouldbutthelittlemoundsremain，tobemansionsforhustlingcoloniesofsmallblackants。

Thecountry，invariouslocalities，ispittedwithprospectholes，andthehillsarepiercedwithdrifttunnelsandabandonedmines。Someoftheprospectholesaremeregrassycups，othersareverydeepandpartlyfilledwithwater。

Someofthemostengrossingdaysofmychildhoodwerespentinexploringtheseplaceswithmytwoboycompanions。Wewouldfellanoaksaplingacrossthemouthofthehole，tiearope，usuallymypony’slariat，tothetreeandslidedownittoexplorethedepthsbelow。Ifwecametoasidedriftwewouldswingintoit，lightourcandle—lanternsandgolookingforgold。Wewerealwayssurethatweshouldyetfindaforgottencacheofgold—perhapsguardedbyalonelyskeleton—butweneverdid!

Aboutallweevergotoutofitwassnake—frights（naturally，sansalcoholicorigin），untilweweresure，thesnakeswerenotrattlers；

babybats，whichinvariablytriedtobiteus；swallows’eggs，wetfeet，andagoodspankingifthefamilyhappenedtofindoutwhatwehadbeenupto。

Isupposethatitreallywasaverydangerouspastime，foralthoughsometimesthedrifttunnelledustoasunlitopeningonthehillside，moreoftenwereachedablindendandwereforcedtoreturntothemainshaftandto"shin"uptherope，withfromtentofortyfeetofinkywaterwaitingtocatchusifwefell。

Orwewentuptheriverto"swingtherocker"foroldAliQuong。Healwayspretendedtodriveusaway，bellowingfiercelyassoonashecaughtsightofus，"Whassamallayou？AlletimeyoucomeseeAliQuong!

Ketchemtoo—oomuchtloubleforpo—oroldChinaman"—thewholetimewithhiswrinkled，brownfacewreathedinsmiles。

Therewestayedthelongsummerafternoon，swingingtherockerwhileQuongshoveledinthepebblydirt，watchinghimtaketheblacksand，whichheldthegold，offthecanvaswithhislittlespade—likescoop，andpanningitforhimintheheavyironpan，fascinatedtoseewhatweshouldfind。Usuallyonlyafewsmallnuggetsinagroupofcolors（flakegold），butoncewefoundagoodsizednuggetwhichQuonggallantlygavemefora"ChineseNewYear"gift。Atduskhesentushome，eachwithabarofbrownbarleysugar—smellingtotheblueofopium—whichhefishedoutofoneofhisnumerousjumperswithhislong—fingered，sensitivehands。

Theyaredead，longago—AhQuong，oldSing，Shotgun—Chinaman—andgonetotheblessedregionoftheFiveImmortals，Iknow，buteverytrueCalifornianwillunderstandtheregardthepioneerfamilieshadforthesefaithfulChineseservitorswhotookasmuchlovingprideinthearistocraticandunblemishednamesoftheir"familees"asthewhitepersonswhoborethem。Fourgenerationsofmyfamily，oldSinglivedtoserve—butImustgetonwithmyforty—niner’staleofthehangingofCharliePrice!

"Eh，mon，butthespringishereagain，"saidJim"Hutch"（Hutchinson）

toOldManGreeley。

"Isitso，now？"returnedthelittleman，gazingoffthroughthesunny，velvetairtoaworldwhichhadbeenpaintedclean，newgreen。Hisshrewd，blueeyesreturnedtotheponderousScotchman。

"Andhowcameyoutorealizethatitwasspring？"heaskedmaliciously。

"HowcameyoutolickSandyMcArthur—r—r？"Hutchinsoncamebackathim。

"Tellmethat。"

"Well，butwhisper，man，"saidoldJimmieplaintively，"whatelsecouldamanbeafterdoin’？Mebootswereon，an’Icouldnotrunawayan’

climbatree，soIusedthemonMcArthur。"

"Ye’reawildfightin’IrishmanwithnoregardfortheSabbath，"

returnedJimHutch，sternly。NowGreeleyhadafearofwhatthedouroldScotchmanmighttelluponhim。ItwouldnotpaytolosehisCeltictemper。

"ItwastochurchIwasgoin’。"hegrowled。"’TwaswhyIwaswearin’mered—toppedhighboots。"

"Wherewaschurchthatday，whatever？AttheWidowSchmitt’s？"

Jimmiesquirmed。"Youmentionedthebeautifulspring，Imind，"hecountereddeftly。SuddenlyJimHutchgrinned。

"I’lltellyewhy。Iwasgaein’downfraeRattlesnakethisafternoonan’

CharliePricean’hisLeeziewereoutinhisbitgardena—plowin’。Mon，yecouldhearhimformiles!"

Itwasevenso。OldCharliePricehaddecidedthatitwashightimetoputinhisvegetablegarden。Hewentouttothelean—toinhiscorraltoinformLizzie，themare，ofhisintention。Lizziewasalwaystheunwillingpartneroftheseagriculturalperegrinations，and，nowshesawhimapproachingwiththeharness，sheranawaywithmuchsnortingandscatteringofsod。

"Hey，you，Liz，"roaredCharlie，"yougoot—for—not’ingbuckskinlummix，youcommit!"Heflourishedthehalterropeather。Lizzieflattenedherears，openedhermouthlikeayawningsnake，andranathim。OldCharlieletoutawhoopthatbroughtthesherifffromRattlesnakeatfullspeed，andcouldbeheard（sotheysay）allthewayacrosstherivertoWildGooseFlat，sixmilesaway。

EvenLizzie，accustomedasshewastoCharlie’smannerisms，wasfranklystartledandmeeklyallowedherselftobecaught。Shedidnotliketoplow。Shewasasaddlerandapairoftugsandacollarboredher。Withacinchonecouldpuffoutintruewild—horsefashionwhilethelatigostrapwasbeingpulled，andafterwardbefairlycomfortable，butaslippingcollarwasneitheroffnoron。Sheshookherselfimpatientlyandthecollarsliddownhernecktoherears。

"Hey!"bellowedCharlie，"youdon’tvearitso!You—"Themarestampedatafly，bringingherhoofdownontheoldDutchman’sfoot。Hisblood—curdlingwhoopsandyellsbroughtthesheriffinonabrilliantfinaletoarecord—breakingrun。

"What’sthematter？Areyoubeingmurdered？"

"Who，I’m？"askedCharlie，absent—mindedly。Hewasnursingtheinjuredmember，wonderingwhethertokickatLizziewithit，knowingfullwellthathestoodagoodchanceofherkickingbackagain’butwhenshesnappedviciouslyatthepuffingsheriffhedecidedagainstit。

"Youcom’toseeme？"heasked，inabland，so—glad—you’ve—calledtone。

"Toseeyou!Why，I’vecometosaveyourlife!"

"So？Dot’sgoot，butLizzieundtme，veain’tgotsomuchtimetoday。

It’svegetablesIsellinRattlesnakeundtvegotoplow，now。"

"Well，youoldfool，afterthisyoucancallinvainifanythinghappenstoyou。I’llneverbotherwithyou。"

"Oh，vell，venIgotalittleexcitementIgottoyellaboutit，ain’tit？"

"Maybeyouhave—andafterthisyoucan，forallofme，"andthewrathfulsheriffdeparted。HewasnewinthecommunityorhewouldhaveknownthattheplowingofCharliePriceandLizziewasaregulareventofeachseason，forwhichanaudiencegatheredtolaybetsforandagainsttheprobabilityofhisdyingofapoplexybeforeitwasfinished。

Theplowingprogressedinthismanner：

Charlieputthepointoftheplowinthesoftearthandroaredatthemotor—power。Lizziestartedoffatanimblelope。Theplowcutaprettycurveandflewoutoftheground。Charliereefedthereinsatonce，completelyturningoffthepower。Thenheputthereinsabouthisneck，graspedthehandlesoftheplowwithbothhands，andzoomedcommandsagainatthechampingpower。"Power"jumpedahead。ThereinsnearlysnappedoldCharlie’sheadoff，buteffectuallybroughtthemaretoastandstill。

"Vait，youdunder—undt—blitzenapfulpeelings!You—youthinkdotplowingisnothigh—tonedenough，yet—hey？Vell，Ishowyou!"

HepickedupahugeclodofsoftdirthelditaloftinbothhandsandbangeditdownonLizzie’sback—whereuponshepromptlyranaway!Shegallopedfuriouslytotheendofthefieldwiththeplowbanginginscoopsandleaps，andoldCharlie，danglingontheendofthereins，flyingalonginseven—leaguejumpsbehindher。Assoonashecaughthisbreathsufficientlyforreneweddirections，thecavalcadereturnedtothegrandstandandoperationswererepeated。

CharliehadbeenasailorbeforehecametoCalifornia，andheplowed（？）eachfurrowwithacollectionofforcefuladmonitions，deliveredinavoiceofthunder，fromadifferentlanguage。ItwasallthesametoLizzie!SheloathedplowingjustasthoroughlyinwildcatSpanish，asshedidinDutchorCingalese，andshedidnothesitatetoproveit。

JimHutchandJimmieGreeleydrifteddowntoRattlesnakeatsundownandjoinedthelaughter—weakenedgrouppercheduponCharlie’ssnakefence。

"Themangrowsmoredafteveryyear。’Tisstrange，whatcharmstheWidowSchmitt。"OldJimmiemerelygrowledinhisbeard。"Charlie，mon，"hecalled，"themareiswarmandweary，andso’syoursel’。Comeontotownforabit。"

Charliestayedoverlongattheminers’hauntsinRattlesnakeanditwasverylatewhenhestartedbacktohiscabin，carryinginonelimp，hothandajugwhichheguardedzealouslyfromharmduringhisunsteadyprogress。

Themenstillsatoverthecardtableswhenthefirstdaylightcreptoverthemountains。JimmieGreeleywasrakinginajackpot，grinningfiendishlyatthedourJimHutchwhentheyheardheavy，runningfeetoutside。Thedoorcrashedopenandafrightened，half—grownladshouted：

"Where’sthesheriff？CharliePricehasbeenhung!"

"What!"

"OnatreeneartheWidowSchmitt’s。Isawhim。Iknowwellthesailorcoatthathewears—andhisbestred—toppedboots。Where’sthesheriff？"

"OveratAhQuong’s，theChineestoreontheedgeoftown。"Theboyranoff。OldJimHutchroseimpressivelytohisfeet。

"Friends，themanyehaelaughedatallday—isdead。Themanyehaealwayslaughedat—andyet，WHOwasitthatlentyegoldwhenyehadnone？Yea，thegoldyethoughtitnotworthye’rwhiletoreturn。Whowaseverreadytowarmyouathisbitfireinwinterortocoolye’rewhuskey—hotthroatwithwaterfromhiscoolspringinsummer？

"Whowasitthatbroughthismareintohisownkitchenwhenitsnowed，andfedherthericeandbeanshewentwithout？WhowasitthattheWidowSchmittwaitsforyearafteryear，withhalftheouldfoolsinPlacerdancin’afterher？"

ThatwastoomuchforoldmanGreeley。

"Becausehewasindifferent—like。Whenyewantawoman，runawayf—r—r—omherandshe’llrunafter。"

"Whydidyenadoit，then，Jeems？"

"Faithan’Idid，butbein’ahldressedupasIwasinmecoat，shecouldn’tseemesuspenderstotellwasIcomin’orgoin’!"JimHutchturnedfromhimwitheringly。

"Whowasitstakedyeforanewprospectin’trip，an’lethisownminegounworked？Whonursedyewhenyewerelyin’seeckuntodeath，an’noonewouldcomenighonaccountofthesmallpoxscare？OldCharliePrice。"

Aboywhirledabouttofacethewindow，butnotbeforeoneuncontrollablesobhadsoundedthroughthequietroom。

"Whowasit，"wentontheoldScotchmangently，"foundtheweebairnthatwaslost，lastsummer；thatfollowedtheIndiansforthirtymilesonhisLeezie—mareandgotthebabefromoutthewickiupofWhiteBeaver？CharliePrice。

"Whocamebringingithaemelaughing，onthesaddlepommelwhilehesangtoitsongsfromowersevenseas，whichwedidblushtohear，inavoicetobeheardtwamilesabout？And’twasonlythebairn’smotherwhothoughttothankhim。

"Yea，andfurthermore，whentheincensedpeoplewouldhaewipetoutthewhiletribeofWhiteBeaver，whodashedatthemobwi’theroarsofabull—bisonforcin’themtohearthatthesquawwascrazedfromthedeathofherownbitbairn，andbuttryin’tocomforthersoreheart？Who，I’maskin’ye？"andfromeachman’slipscamethemurmurlikearesponsetoalitany：

"CharliePrice。"

FromtheopendooracooldawnbreezeblewinfromtheSierras，pureforerunnertothenewday。Itwhirledtheheavysmokeplumesintoformsofvanishedghosts，likethetorturedfigmentsofeachman’sconsciencewhohaddone，and"leftundone"thatwhichitwasforevertoolatetoamend。

Thesheriffwalkedin。

"ThisboysaysthatoldCharlieisgone。"Hestoodwithhisbroadhatoff，runninghisfingersnervouslythroughhishair。"Gentlemen—I—I

mustconfess—Iheardthepoormancalling，but—"

"Mon，inanancientbooknamed’Mr。Aesop，HisFables，’therewasataleoftheladwhocried’wolf。’Manythereareherewhohavereadit。Come，letusgaeafterpoorCharlie。"

Inthefirstdaylighttheyreachedthetreewithitsgruesomeburden。

"But—but，"sputteredthekeen—eyedlittleIrishman，"’TisnotCharlieatall!’TisbutaneffigydressedinCharlie’sclothesandhungattheWidowSchmitt’sgate。"

"Asawarnin’tohimfraesomemutton—headloverofhers。"

TheyranasonemanacrosstheroadtoCharlie’scabin。Itwasempty。

"Hewascallin’’Help’，"saidtheround—eyedboy。

"Yes，weheardhim，"addedthesheriff。

Theyhadcomeuptheroad。Theystartedbackdownthetrail。