Слике страница
PDF
ePub

Ambushed by Fortune

By Francis Lee Rogers

T

HIS is the tale that I gathered from Shotgun Joe when he was working in gum boots alongside of me in a wet gravel mine. We stood in a foot of water, and water dripped down upon us, and the shovel handles were slippery, and the work hard, and the loose roof above us dangerous. Notwithstanding these features, Joe whistled and sang continually, for he lived in memories of a radiant past and saw a sunrise glow upon the mists of the future and cared nothing about the passing present. Though today he had little money, a year ago he had had less; but in the between time-well, here is his adventure as he related it:

On the afternoon before Christmas a year ago he had set forth toward Sonora, wearing his best suit, which was ragged, indeed, and with a single fifty-cent piece in his pockets, to celebrate Christmas Eve as best circumstances allowed. For several months he had had no luck at prospecting, which is the usual condition of a prospector, and few of them worry about that. So he was not downhearted, that quality not entering into the makeup of a genuine prospector; and he was glad in his heart for no reason at all, except that the Christmas gladness was in the atmosphere. Perhaps there was another reason, though, for soon he came in sight of a white cottage with green shutters, and there was a pleasing young woman by the open gate, and a handsome shepherd dog beside her. As Joe neared, the dog ran out and greeted him with delighted yelps, and the girl smiled at him, and Joe smiled back; but he did not stop, but called out some excuse about having to be in town to meet someone. But his real reason was that he thought that his clothes were not good enough for him to want to talk with her now, and for the

first time this day he felt discontented. He rounded the curve of the road, still imagining her smile and the red geranium in her hair, and how neat she looked in her blue dress; and he thought that she would be his choice of all womankind if he were in position to choose. While thinking thus he noticed a piece of quartz lying beside the road, and, as was his invariable custom, picked it up and scrutinized it with trained eye. It had an iron vein, and crystals, and the stain of blue slate-good indications. In the bank above it he saw another piece of quartz and examined that. Then he saw an odd-shaped lump projecting and took a rock and knocked it out and examined it, and when he first felt the weight of it he suspected the truth. It was the three-hundred dollar nugget, of whose finding local people still relate; and it is to this day in the collection of Jeweler Haiden, polished and glowinga thing of beauty.

But its real nature was all hidden then, and Joe scraatched it in several places with his knife before he was sure that the lump was all gold. Then he proceeded to town, calm outwardly, but much exalted inwardly. Had not the impression of Meena been fresh in his mind, doubtless he would have called about him a party of friends when he arrived and made a glorious celebration and departed home as ragged as he had come, and maybe fifty cents poorer. But this time he was very crafty with himself and made a strictly private matter of selling the nugget. Jeweler Haiden paid him cash, full value, or very near it, for he was too honest to cheat even if he could have done, which he couldn't, for Joe knew gold too well. But he had to pay him part of the price in silver dollars, and a double handful of these looked so

impressive in bulk that it gave Joe an inspiration. He went out to buy a new suit and other things, and at each place asked for his change in dollars and put them into a small valise, which he had purchased, until it contained over two hundred of the big coins.

It was now dark and he started back. When he reached Meena's house his

courage almost failed him. He paused by the gate quite a while, then finally went up to the door and knocked. And when the door was opened and Meena stood before him he felt strangely diffident.

"My goodness, Joe, is this you?" she exclaimed; "Come in! Grandmother,"

she said, turning around, "do look at Joe in his new suit!"

The old woman in the chair by the stove mumbled with toothless cordiality and motioned him to a seat, and put another stick of manzanita on the fire. Joe sat down by the glowing fire, and he had to explain everything, and they talked for a long while.

"Grandmother, it's time for you to go to bed," said Meena at length. And the old woman bade them goodnight and left them alone.

Now, thought Joe, is the decisive moment.

"Meena," he said slowly, "Christmas is a good day to get married on."

Meena blushed a little and looked into Joe's genial eyes, but made no reply Joe reflectively picked up the valise, opened it and poured its contents upon the rug, where they made a massive, shining heap.

"Meena, that's enough for a start. Let's get married tomorrow evening. What do you say?"

She contemplated. She liked Joe. Life she had found often lonesome.

"All right," she answered, smiling. Joe laughed with relief that it should be so quick and simple as this, and a great happiness came upon him. He took Meena into his arms and kissed her Then they sat and talked, heedless of time, after the manner of lovers, until it was very late. And it took them a long time to say goodnight then.

The next night-Christmas night-was

a wonderful, clear night, and the wedding was at Meena's home and came off splendidly. Friends of the couple sat about two great tables, and there was jest and merriment and a supply of native wine without limit. Joe felt very happy, for Meena was truly his now. The happier he felt, the more he drank, and the more he drank the happier he felt.

But soon a disturbing thought crept into his mind. His best friend, Sam, was missing from the feast; Sam, with whom he had taken so many prospecting trips and shared luck with so often. He lived only half a mile distant-on Table Mountain and Joe decided to walk over and get him. Without a word to anyone he slipped out of the yard and out into the road, and, as nearly as he could judge in his elevated but confused state of con sciousness, was soon upon the short-cut path to Sam's dwelling.

The moon, too, was full, and it seemed to Joe, as he strode lightly over the lava, that he was treading on moonlight and breathing it, and was himself a part of the glamorous illusion of the wondrous night. Joyously he moved and swiftly, until the light from a cabin was before him. He knocked, and the door was opened, but a stranger and not Sam greeted him. Then he knew that he must have branched from the right trail. The stranger, after treating Joe to a glass of wine, gave him directions for the right path. He did not grasp the directions with clearness, but did not like to ask again, so thanked him and boldly set out once more.

His vague memory of the remainder of that night is of toilsome travel over rocks, through brush; after the moon had set he still stumbled on, up slopes and down, and when dawn came he laid himself down under a tree and slept. When he awoke the sun was high. The first thing that his eyes rested upon was a piece of quartz float, and, according to his invariable custom, he scrutinized it carefully and found it excellent. He saw another piece nearby and picked it up and saw upon it a streak of gold. At this you may be sure that Joe became wide awake and sober, for he saw that chance had led him to a rare spot, and

there was no sign of any mining having been done hereabouts.

Homeward he traveled and related his experience to Meena, who, after some tears, forgave him. But he did not tell even her about the quartz he had found until he had filed and recorded a claim upon the ground. Then he set to work mining. The rest is commonplace. He took out $90,000, and he and Meena went to San Francisco to spend it, and the details of getting rid of this sum would doubtless be interesting, but Joe did not tell me of them, but only of the climax, which was that one day they found that it was all gone.

So they went back to the mountains, and Meena put on gingham and Joe put on overalls and went to work to earn another grubstake. It was shortly after this time that I met him. A year later I heard that he had made another big strike in his mine and had bought the finest ranch in Tuolumne county.

There are three morals to this storyfirst, that Christmas is some people's lucky day; second, that in a gold country it is well to cultivate the invariable custom of scutinizing all quartz rock; third, that if you waste one fortune, it is well to treat the next one you get with more wisdom.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][graphic][ocr errors][ocr errors]

Pepe, El Tonto

By Homer Thomas

P

EPE, El Tonto, was a dreamer; one of those simple creatures that are forever gazing into the future, hopefully, trustfully, serenely sure of the goodness of Mother Earth. Always did this child of the Great Desert seem to be communing with the Star Spirit. There was no denying he was different from the other vaqueros of the ranchos of Arizona, for, unlike them, he was quiet, reserved, and, indeed, often appeared timorous. Never did Pepe tell any soul of his hopes and dreams, for to him they were too sacred for the wild jests and amusements of the cowboys.

For you must believe that Pepe dreamed and hoped for wonderful things. For to him there was no invitation in the square-faced bottles that enchained the souls of many luckless vaqueros; for Pepe there were no thoughts of wild passions and the lurid lives that led to utter abasement to the poor people of the border-lands. Rather to this man, who yet had the heart of a child, and whom all called El Tonto (The Fool), came hopes of owning a rancho far out in God's own clean desert lands. He knew of a place where a well gushed in the midst of the fairest oasis of cottonwoods and river-willows, of living there, where his nature could absorb the wondrous beauties of the desert and the mysteries of the sunny sky that smiled above him. These thoughts came to him, for "The Fool" loved the works of God, passionately and understandingly.

So Pepe, the poor vaquero on Sam Barnett's rancho in Arizona, lived the life of the dreamer, apart from his fellow men, and, as is the brutal nature of mankind, because he was not as they were, they laughed at Pepe, and all men called him Pepe, El Tonto.

In all the wide world but one understood this dreamer of dreams. And the understanding came from the depths of a heart of love for the black-eyed Paquita, daughter of the mayor-domo of the Great Bar Circle Ranch, had given her love to the poor vaquero who dreamed.

But love could not overcome the material obstacle and obstinancy of the father of Paquita. Never, had he sworn, would his jewel of a daughter marry a poor, ignorant vaquero, who only stared and dreamed foolish things. Caramba!-by all the saints! Never would Paquita marry any but one who possessed wealth and position!

So Pepe and Paquita loved, but were denied the rights of love; and only dreams of the rancho at the oasis of cottonwoods and river-willows, with Paquita reigning as queen in his faithful heart, had Pepe, El Tonto.

Pepe had no chance to rise to the desired wealth and position, for the vaqueros did not have large wages for their long days and nights of dreary work. So how could man gain wealth? But the world was good-perhaps the saints that protected all true lovers would lead him to Paquita-so thought Pepe.

One bright day of midsummer, when all the desert dozed in dreamy meditation and, even the great, gray buzzards sailed slowly from the languor of the season, Pepe was riding out in the broken lava-studded hills of El Oro Perdido. The way was new to Pepe. Never had be seen that part of the desert, but he remembered that campfire legends told of fabulous stores of gold in hidden creekbeds. Only the old padres had seen the gold, and they had never told any of the curious where the lodes were, for gold always breeds trouble and the padres

loved peace. Thus, this part of the desert was known as the Hills of the Lost Gold.

Pepe rode slowly and carefully down a ragged trail of flinty lava into a little box-like valley. Wonderingly he gazed around him.

Gone were the dancing lights of desert heat; gone were the dry clumps of choya spines and gray desert grass, for in this valley a spring had given life to a luxuriant growth of verdant beauty. River-willow edged the banks of the little silvery, tinkling stream; the beautiful sego lily even had found root in this garden spot. Green, sweet-smelling grass bedded the floor of the valley.

All this the beauty-loving soul of Pepe, the dreamer, absorbed in one long rapturous look of adoration. Heaven could be no fairer to Pepe.

He was thirsty, and, flinging himself down full length, he lowered his face to the cool water. Near the basin, where the water gleamed and flickered in the bright sun of an Arizona day, drew his eager face, and then Pepe, the dreamer, called by all men El Tonto, stiffened and stared into the water.

A yellow, dully-glistening substance lay thickly on the bottom and sloping sides of the water basin. All along the banks and shelves of sand of the stream gleamed that yellow, dull substance. The heart of Pepe was pounding furiously, his head swam dizzily with the emotion of joy.

Gold! Gold it was, ready for Pepe to scoop out in handsfull.

To Pepe, the dreamer, who dreamed of a rancho in the desert, where the cottonwoods and river-willows made a tiny paradise, came this gift of the saints. Surely the saints of faithful lovers had taken pity on this poor vaquero.

Pepe gathered the heavy yellow substance. Yes, it was gold, for which men will buy and sell lives and souls.

Pepe soon had his pockets and saddlebags crammed with the great discovery. He even filled his felt sombrero and carried it in the crook of his arm. The father of Paquita would demand much wealth for his jewel of a daughter. And poor Pepe, who had loved in vain for so

long, did not desire to take chances.

He turned his horse from the little boxlike valley, where the spring had given life to the bloom in the desert, and began the long ride to the rancho of his patron-Sam Barnett.

As the dreamer of dreams, who had never been able to believe that his dreams would come true, rode along, he talked happily to his horse.

we are to go to

Paquito will be for he whom she Now can I be for

"Ah, caballito mio, Paquita first of all. happy for this news, loves has found gold! ever happy. Si, si, senor. Paquita and the rancho where the cottonwoods and river-willows grow are now mine." So Pepe, the dreamer, still dreamed of the black-eyed nina, who alone understood and loved him. His heart would no longer be heavy with despair, for the saints that protect lovers had aided him. Poor Pepe, who had never had enough of the world's goods to live and love as became his nature, was now suddenly loaded with wealth.

Pepe rode directly to the Bar Circle Ranch, where he would tell Paquita of his fortune. He would also ask the mayor-domo for the hand of Paquita; si, senor, that very day would he ask. He did not doubt that the father of Paquita would be glad to have such a wealthy son-in-law. The father of Paquita had never seen half the wealth that Pepe now carried in his felt sombrero.

When Pepe came to the scattered group of gray barns and corrals that was the heart of the Bar Circle Ranch, he turned to the adobe house of Paquita's father.

Luck was smiling brightly for Pepe that day. The father of Paquita was lounging in the shade of the house as Pepe rode up. The mayor-domo stood up to watch this visitor of his. An angry and malicious gleam shot from his small jet-black eyes. He was a man of much importance, and Pepe was but a poor vaquero; pues, senor, should he not show his disdain of this foolish youth? Of a surety he should!

But one glance at the face of Pepe and he stopped and waited for Pepe to dismount.

« ПретходнаНастави »