Produced by Donald Lainson
DEVIL'S FORD
by Bret Harte
DEVIL'S FORD
CHAPTER I
It was a season of unequalled prosperity in Devil's Ford. The half adozen cabins scattered along the banks of the North Fork, as if by someoverflow of that capricious river, had become augmented during a week offierce excitement by twenty or thirty others, that were huddled togetheron the narrow gorge of Devil's Spur, or cast up on its steep sides. Sosudden and violent had been the change of fortune, that the dwellersin the older cabins had not had time to change with it, but still kepttheir old habits, customs, and even their old clothes. The flour pan inwhich their daily bread was mixed stood on the rude table side by sidewith the "prospecting pans," half full of gold washed up from theirmorning's work; the front windows of the newer tenements looked uponthe one single thoroughfare, but the back door opened upon the unclearedwilderness, still haunted by the misshapen bulk of bear or the nightlygliding of catamount.
Neither had success as yet affected their boyish simplicity and thefrankness of old frontier habits; they played with their new-foundriches with the naive delight of children, and rehearsed their glowingfuture with the importance and triviality of school-boys.
"I've bin kalklatin'," said Dick Mattingly, leaning on his long-handledshovel with lazy gravity, "that when I go to Rome this winter, I'll getone o' them marble sharps to chisel me a statoo o' some kind to set upon the spot where we made our big strike. Suthin' to remember it by, youknow."
"What kind o' statoo--Washington or Webster?" asked one of the Kearneybrothers, without looking up from his work.
"No--I reckon one o' them fancy groups--one o' them Latin goddesses thatFairfax is always gassin' about, sorter leadin', directin' and bossin'us where to dig."
"You'd make a healthy-lookin' figger in a group," responded Kearney,critically regarding an enormous patch in Mattingly's trousers. "Whydon't you have a fountain instead?"
"Where'll you get the water?" demanded the first speaker, in return."You know there ain't enough in the North Fork to do a week's washingfor the camp--to say nothin' of its color."
"Leave that to me," said Kearney, with self-possession. "When I've builtthat there reservoir on Devil's Spur, and bring the water over the ridgefrom Union Ditch, there'll be enough to spare for that."
"Better mix it up, I reckon--have suthin' half statoo, half fountain,"interposed the elder Mattingly, better known as "Maryland Joe," "and setit up afore the Town Hall and Free Library I'm kalklatin' to give. DoTHAT, and you can count on me."
After some further discussion, it was gravely settled that Kearneyshould furnish water brought from the Union Ditch, twenty miles away,at a cost of two hundred thousand dollars, to feed a memorial fountainerected by Mattingly, worth a hundred thousand dollars, as a crowningfinish to public buildings contributed by Maryland Joe, to the extentof half a million more. The disposition of these vast sums by gentlemenwearing patched breeches awakened no sense of the ludicrous, nor did anydoubt, reservation, or contingency enter into the plans of the charmingenthusiasts themselves. The foundation of their airy castles lay alreadybefore them in the strip of rich alluvium on the river bank, where theNorth Fork, sharply curving round the base of Devil's Spur, had forcenturies swept the detritus of gulch and canyon. They had barelycrossed the threshold of this treasure-house, to find themselves richmen; what possibilities of affluence might be theirs when they had fullyexploited their possessions? So confident were they of that ultimateprospect, that the wealth already thus obtained was religiously expendedin engines and machinery for the boring of wells and the conveyance ofthat precious water which the exhausted river had long since ceased toyield. It seemed as if the gold they had taken out was by some ironicalcompensation gradually making its way back to the soil again throughditch and flume and reservoir.
Such was the position of affairs at Devil's Ford on the 13th of August,1860. It was noon of a hot day. Whatever movement there was in thestifling air was seen rather than felt in a tremulous, quivering,upward-moving dust along the flank of the mountain, through which thespires of the pines were faintly visible. There was no water in thebared and burning bars of the river to reflect the vertical sun, butunder its direct rays one or two tinned roofs and corrugated zinc cabinsstruck fire, a few canvas tents became dazzling to the eye, and thewhite wooded corral of the stage office and hotel insupportable. Fortwo hours no one ventured in the glare of the open, or even to cross thenarrow, unshadowed street, whose dull red dust seemed to glow betweenthe lines of straggling houses. The heated shells of these greenunseasoned tenements gave out a pungent odor of scorching wood andresin. The usual hurried, feverish toil in the claim was suspended;the pick and shovel were left sticking in the richest "pay gravel;"the toiling millionaires themselves, ragged, dirty, and perspiring, laypanting under the nearest shade, where the pipes went out listlessly,and conversation sank to monosyllables.
"There's Fairfax," said Dick Mattingly, at last, with a lazy effort. Hisface was turned to the hillside, where a man had just emerged fromthe woods, and was halting irresolutely before the glaring expanse ofupheaved gravel and glistening boulders that stretched between him andthe shaded group. "He's going to make a break for it," he added, as thestranger, throwing his linen coat over his head, suddenly started intoan Indian trot through the pelting sunbeams toward them. This strangeact was perfectly understood by the group, who knew that in thatintensely dry heat the danger of exposure was lessened by activeexercise and the profuse perspiration that followed it. In anothermoment the stranger had reached their side, dripping as if rained upon,mopping his damp curls and handsome bearded face with his linen coat, ashe threw himself pantingly on the ground.
"I struck out over here first, boys, to give you a little warning," hesaid, as soon as he had gained breath. "That engineer will be down hereto take charge as soon as the six o'clock stage comes in. He's an oldishchap, has got a family of two daughters, and--I--am--d----d if he is notbringing them down here with him."
"Oh, go long!" exclaimed the five men in one voice, raising themselveson their hands and elbows, and glaring at the speaker.
"Fact, boys! Soon as I found it out I just waltzed into that Jew shop atthe Crossing and bought up all the clothes that would be likely to suityou fellows, before anybody else got a show. I reckon I cleared out theshop. The duds are a little mixed in style, but I reckon they're cleanand whole, and a man might face a lady in 'em. I left them round at theold Buckeye Spring, where they're handy without attracting attention.You boys can go there for a general wash-up, rig yourselves up withoutsaying anything, and then meander back careless and easy in your storeclothes, just as the stage is coming in, sabe?"
"Why didn't you let us know earlier?" asked Mattingly aggrievedly;"you've been back here at least an hour."
"I've been getting some place ready for THEM," returned the new-comer."We might have managed to put the man somewhere, if he'd been alone, butthese women want family accommodation. There was nothing left for me todo but to buy up Thompson's saloon."
"No?" interrupted his audience, half in incredulity, half inprotestation.
"Fact! You boys will have to take your drinks under canvas again, Ireckon! But I made Thompson let those gold-framed mirrors that used tostand behind the bar go into the bargain, and they sort of furnish theroom. You know the saloon is one of them patent houses you can take topieces, and I've been reckoning you boys will have to pitch in and helpme to take the whole shanty over to the laurel bushes, and put it upagin Kearney's cabin."
"What's all that?" said the younger Kearney, with an odd mingling ofastonishment and bashful gratification.
"Yes, I reckon yours is the cleanest house, because it's the newest, soyou'll just step out and let us knock i
n one o' the gables, and clap iton to the saloon, and make ONE house of it, don't you see? There'll betwo rooms, one for the girls and the other for the old man."
The astonishment and bewilderment of the party had gradually given wayto a boyish and impatient interest.
"Hadn't we better do the job at once?" suggested Dick Mattingly.
"Or throw ourselves into those new clothes, so as to be ready," addedthe younger Kearney, looking down at his ragged trousers. "I say,Fairfax, what are the girls like, eh?"
All the others had been dying to ask the question, yet one and alllaughed at the conscious manner and blushing cheek of the questioner.
"You'll find out quick enough," returned Fairfax, whose curtcarelessness did not, however, prevent a slight increase of color on hisown cheek. "We'd better get that job off our hands before doing anythingelse. So, if you're ready, boys, we'll just waltz down to Thompson's andpack up the shanty. He's out of it by this time, I reckon. You mightas well be perspiring to some purpose over there as gaspin' under thistree. We won't go back to work this afternoon, but knock off now, andcall it half a day. Come! Hump yourselves, gentlemen. Are you ready?One, two, three, and away!"
In another instant the tree was deserted; the figures of the fivemillionaires of Devil's Ford, crossing the fierce glare of the openspace, with boyish alacrity, glistened in the sunlight, and thendisappeared in the nearest fringe of thickets.