CHAPTER I
When Alvin Mulrady announced his intention of growing potatoes
and garden "truck" on the green slopes of Los Gatos, the mining
community of that region, and the adjacent hamlet of "Rough-and-
Ready," regarded it with the contemptuous indifference usually shown by
those adventurers towards all bucolic pursuits. There was certainly no
active objection to the occupation of two hillsides, which gave so little
promise to the prospector for gold that it was currently reported that a
single prospector, called "Slinn," had once gone mad or imbecile through
repeated failures. The only opposition came, incongruously enough,
from the original pastoral owner of the soil, one Don Ramon Alvarado,
whose claim for seven leagues of hill and valley, including the now
prosperous towns of Rough-and-Ready and Red Dog, was met with simple
derision from the squatters and miners. "Looks ez ef we woz goin' to
travel three thousand miles to open up his d--d old wilderness, and then
pay for the increased valoo we give it--don't it? Oh, yes, certainly!" was
their ironical commentary. Mulrady might have been pardoned for
adopting this popular opinion; but by an equally incongruous sentiment,
peculiar, however, to the man, he called upon Don Ramon, and actually
offered to purchase the land, or "go shares" with him in the agricultural
profits. It was alleged that the Don was so struck with this concession
that he not only granted the land, but struck up a quaint reserved
friendship for the simple-minded agriculturist and his family. It is
scarcely necessary to add that this intimacy was viewed by the miners with
the contempt that it deserved. They would have been more
contemptuous, however, had they known the opinion that Don Ramon
entertained of their particular vocation, and which he early confided to
Mulrady.
"They are savages who expect to reap where they have not sown; to
take out of the earth without returning anything to it but their precious
carcasses; heathens, who worship the mere stones they dig up." "And
was there no Spaniard who ever dug gold?" asked Mulrady, simply. "Ah,
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there are Spaniards and Moors," responded Don Ramon, sententiously.
"Gold has been dug, and by caballeros; but no good ever came of it.
There were Alvarados in Sonora, look you, who had mines of SILVER,
and worked them with peons and mules, and lost their money--a gold mine
to work a silver one--like gentlemen! But this grubbing in the dirt with
one's fingers, that a little gold may stick to them, is not for caballeros.
And then, one says nothing of the curse."
"The curse!" echoed Mary Mulrady, with youthful feminine
superstition. "What is that?"
"You knew not, friend Mulrady, that when these lands were given to
my ancestors by Charles V., the Bishop of Monterey laid a curse upon any
who should desecrate them. Good! Let us see! Of the three
Americanos who founded yonder town, one was shot, another died of a
fever--poisoned, you understand, by the soil--and the last got himself
crazy of aguardiente. Even the scientifico,* who came here years ago
and spied into the trees and the herbs: he was afterwards punished for his
profanation, and died of an accident in other lands. But," added Don
Ramon, with grave courtesy, "this touches not yourself. Through me,
YOU are of the soil."
* Don Ramon probably alluded to the eminent naturalist Douglas,
who visited California before the gold excitement, and died of an accident
in the Sandwich Islands.
Indeed, it would seem as if a secure if not a rapid prosperity was the
result of Don Ramon's manorial patronage. The potato patch and market
garden flourished exceedingly; the rich soil responded with magnificent
vagaries of growth; the even sunshine set the seasons at defiance with
extraordinary and premature crops. The salt pork and biscuit consuming
settlers did not allow their contempt of Mulrady's occupation to prevent
their profiting by this opportunity for changing their diet. The gold they
had taken from the soil presently began to flow into his pockets in
exchange for his more modest treasures. The little cabin, which barely
sheltered his family--a wife, son, and daughter--was enlarged, extended,
and refitted, but in turn abandoned for a more pretentious house on the
opposite hill. A whitewashed fence replaced the rudely-split rails, which
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had kept out the wilderness. By degrees, the first evidences of
cultivation--the gashes of red soil, the piles of brush and undergrowth, the
bared boulders, and heaps of stone-- melted away, and were lost under a
carpet of lighter green, which made an oasis in the tawny desert of wild
oats on the hillside. Water was the only free boon denied this Garden of
Eden; what was necessary for irrigation had to be brought from a mining
ditch at great expense, and was of insufficient quantity. In this
emergency Mulrady thought of sinking an artesian well on the sunny slope
beside his house; not, however, without serious consultation and much
objection from his Spanish patron. With great austerity Don Ramon
pointed out that this trifling with the entrails of the earth was not only an
indignity to Nature almost equal to shaft-sinking and tunneling, but was a
disturbance of vested interests. "I and my fathers, San Diego rest them!"
said Don Ramon, crossing himself, "were content with wells and cisterns,
filled by Heaven at its appointed seasons; the cattle, dumb brutes though
they were, knew where to find water when they wanted it. But thou
sayest truly," he added, with a sigh, "that was before streams and rain were
choked with hellish engines, and poisoned with their spume. Go on,
friend Mulrady, dig and bore if thou wilt, but in a seemly fashion, and not
with impious earthquakes of devilish gunpowder."
With this concession Alvin Mulrady began to sink his first artesian
shaft. Being debarred the auxiliaries of steam and gunpowder, the work
went on slowly. The market garden did not suffer meantime, as Mulrady
had employed two Chinamen to take charge of the ruder tillage, while he
superintended the engineering work of the well. This trifling incident
marked an epoch in the social condition of the family. Mrs. Mulrady at
once assumed a conscious importance among her neighbors. She spoke
of her husband's "men"; she alluded to the well as "the works"; she
checked the easy frontier familiarity of her customers with pretty Mary
Mulrady, her seventeen-year-old daughter. Simple Alvin Mulrady looked
with astonishment at this sudden development of the germ planted in all
feminine nature to expand in the slightest sunshine of prosperity. "Look
yer, Malviny; ain't ye rather puttin' on airs with the boys that want to be
civil to Mamie? Like as not one of 'em may be makin' up to her already."
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"You don't mean to say, Alvin Mulrady," responded Mrs. Mulrady, with
sudden severity, "that you ever thought of givin' your daughter to a
common miner, or that I'm goin' to allow her to marry out of our own set?"
"Our own set!" echoed Mulrady feebly, blinking at her in astonishment,
and then glancing hurriedly across at his freckle-faced son and the two
Chinamen at work in the cabbages. "Oh, you know what I mean," said
Mrs. Mulrady sharply; "the set that we move in. The Alvarados and their
friends! Doesn't the old Don come here every day, and ain't his son the
right age for Mamie? And ain't they the real first families here--all the
same as if they were noblemen? No, leave Mamie to me, and keep to
your shaft; there never was a man yet had the least sabe about these things,
or knew what was due to his family." Like most of his larger minded, but
feebler equipped sex, Mulrady was too glad to accept the truth of the latter
proposition, which left the meannesses of life to feminine manipulation,
and went off to his shaft on the hillside. But during that afternoon he was
perplexed and troubled. He was too loyal a husband not to be pleased
with this proof of an unexpected and superior foresight in his wife,
although he was, like all husbands, a little startled by it. He tried to
dismiss it from his mind. But looking down from the hillside upon his
little venture, where gradual increase and prosperity had not been beyond
his faculties to control and understand, he found himself haunted by the
more ambitious projects of his helpmate. From his own knowledge of
men, he doubted if Don Ramon, any more than himself, had ever thought
of the possibility of a matrimonial connection between the families. He
doubted if he would consent to it. And unfortunately it was this very
doubt that, touching his own pride as a self-made man, made him first
seriously consider his wife's proposition. He was as good as Don Ramon,
any day! With this subtle feminine poison instilled in his veins, carried
completely away by the logic of his wife's illogical premises, he almost
hated his old benefactor. He looked down upon the little Garden of Eden,
where his Eve had just tempted him with the fatal fruit, and felt a curious
consciousness that he was losing its simple and innocent enjoyment
forever.
Happily, about this time Don Ramon died. It is not probable that he
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ever knew the amiable intentions of Mrs. Mulrady in regard to his son,
who now succeeded to the paternal estate, sadly partitioned by relatives
and lawsuits. The feminine Mulradys attended the funeral, in expensive
mourning from Sacramento; even the gentle Alvin was forced into ready-
made broadcloth, which accented his good-natured but unmistakably
common presence. Mrs. Mulrady spoke openly of her "loss"; declared
that the old families were dying out; and impressed the wives of a few new
arrivals at Red Dog with the belief that her own family was contemporary
with the Alvarados, and that her husband's health was far from perfect.
She extended a motherly sympathy to the orphaned Don Caesar. Reserved,
like his father, in natural disposition, he was still more gravely
ceremonious from his loss; and, perhaps from the shyness of an evident
partiality for Mamie Mulrady, he rarely availed himself of her mother's
sympathizing hospitality. But he carried out the intentions of his father
by consenting to sell to Mulrady, for a small sum, the property he had
leased. The idea of purchasing had originated with Mrs. Mulrady.
"It'll be all in the family," had observed that astute lady, "and it's better
for the looks of the things that we shouldn't he his tenants."
It was only a few weeks later that she was startled by hearing her
husband's voice calling her from the hillside as he rapidly approached the
house. Mamie was in her room putting on a new pink cotton gown, in
honor of an expected visit from young Don Caesar, and Mrs. Mulrady was
tidying the house in view of the same event. Something in the tone of her
good man's voice, and the unusual circumstance of his return to the house
before work was done, caused her, however, to drop her dusting cloth, and
run to the kitchen door to meet him. She saw him running through the
rows of cabbages, his face shining with perspiration and excitement, a
light in his eyes which she had not seen for years. She recalled, without
sentiment, that he looked like that when she had called him--a poor farm
hand of her father's--out of the brush heap at the back of their former
home, in Illinois, to learn the consent of her parents. The recollection
was the more embarrassing as he threw his arms around her, and pressed a
resounding kiss upon her sallow cheek. "Sakes alive! Mulrady!" she
said, exorcising the ghost of a blush that had also been recalled from the
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past with her housewife's apron, "what are you doin', and company
expected every minit?"
"Malviny, I've struck it; and struck it rich!"
She disengaged herself from his arms, without excitement, and looked
at him with bright but shrewdly observant eyes.
"I've struck it in the well--the regular vein that the boys have been
looking fer. There's a fortin' fer you and Mamie: thousands and tens of
thousands!"
"Wait a minit."
She left him quickly, and went to the foot of the stairs. He could hear
her wonderingly and distinctly. "Ye can take off that new frock, Mamie,"
she called out.
There was a sound of undisguised expostulation from Mamie.
"I'm speaking," said Mrs. Mulrady, emphatically.
The murmuring ceased. Mrs. Mulrady returned to her husband.
The interruption seemed to have taken off the keen edge of his enjoyment.
He at once abdicated his momentary elevation as a discoverer, and waited
for her to speak.
"Ye haven't told any one yet?" she asked.
"No. I was alone, down in the shaft. Ye see, Malviny, I wasn't
expectin' of anything." He began, with an attempt at fresh enjoyment, "I
was just clearin' out, and hadn't reckoned on anythin'."
"You see, I was right when I advised you taking the land," she said,
without heeding him.
Mulrady's face fell. "I hope Don Caesar won't think"--he began,
hesitatingly. "I reckon, perhaps, I oughter make some sorter
compensation--you know."
"Stuff!" said Mrs. Mulrady, decidedly. "Don't be a fool. Any gold
discovery, anyhow, would have been yours--that's the law. And you
bought the land without any restrictions. Besides, you never had any
idea of this!"--she stopped, and looked him suddenly in the face--"had
you?"
Mulrady opened his honest, pale-gray eyes widely.
"Why, Malviny! You know I hadn't. I could swear!"
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"Don't swear, and don't let on to anybody but what you DID know it
was there. Now, Alvin Mulrady, listen to me." Her voice here took the
strident form of action. "Knock off work at the shaft, and send your man
away at once. Put on your things, catch the next stage to Sacramento at
four o'clock, and take Mamie with you."
"Mamie!" echoed Mulrady, feebly.
"You want to see Lawyer Cole and my brother Jim at once," she went
on, without heeding him, "and Mamie wants a change and some proper.
clothes. Leave the rest to me and Abner. I'll break it to Mamie, and get
her ready."
Mulrady passed his hands through his tangled hair, wet with
perspiration. He was proud of his wife's energy and action; he did not
dream of opposing her, but somehow he was disappointed. The
charming glamour and joy of his discovery had vanished before he could
fairly dazzle her with it; or, rather, she was not dazzled with it at all. It
had become like business, and the expression "breaking it" to Mamie
jarred upon him. He would have preferred to tell her himself; to watch
the color come into her delicate oval face, to have seen her soft eyes light
with an innocent joy he had not seen in his wife's; and he felt a sinking
conviction that his wife was the last one to awaken it.
"You ain't got any time to lose," she said, impatiently, as he hesitated.
Perhaps it was her impatience that struck harshly upon him; perhaps, if
she had not accepted her good fortune so confidently, he would not have
spoken what was in his mind at the time; but he said gravely, "Wait a minit,
Malviny; I've suthin' to tell you 'bout this find of mine that's sing'lar."
"Go on," she said, quickly.
"Lyin' among the rotten quartz of the vein was a pick," he said,
constrainedly; "and the face of the vein sorter looked ez if it had been
worked at. Follering the line outside to the base of the hill there was
signs of there having been an old tunnel; but it had fallen in, and was
blocked up."
"Well?" said Mrs. Mulrady, contemptuously.
"Well," returned her husband, somewhat disconnectedly, "it kinder
looked as if some feller might have discovered it before."
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"And went away, and left it for others! That's likely--ain't it?"
interrupted his wife, with ill-disguised intolerance. "Everybody knows
the hill wasn't worth that for prospectin'; and it was abandoned when we
came here. It's your property and you've paid for it. Are you goin' to
wait to advertise for the owner, Alvin Mulrady, or are you going to
Sacramento at four o'clock to-day?"
Mulrady started. He had never seriously believed in the possibility of
a previous discovery; but his conscientious nature had prompted him to
give it a fair consideration. She was probably right. What he might
have thought had she treated it with equal conscientiousness he did not
consider. "All right," he said simply. "I reckon we'll go at once."
"And when you talk to Lawyer Cole and Jim, keep that silly stuff
about the pick to yourself. There's no use of putting queer ideas into
other people's heads because you happen to have 'em yourself."
When the hurried arrangements were at last completed, and Mr.
Mulrady and Mamie, accompanied by a taciturn and discreet Chinaman,
carrying their scant luggage, were on their way to the high road to meet
the up stage, the father gazed somewhat anxiously and wistfully into his
daughter's face. He had looked forward to those few moments to enjoy
the freshness and naivete of Mamie's youthful delight and enthusiasm as a
relief to his wife's practical, far- sighted realism. There was a pretty pink
suffusion in her delicate cheek, the breathless happiness of a child in her
half-opened little mouth, and a beautiful absorption in her large gray eyes
that augured well for him.
"Well, Mamie, how do we like bein' an heiress? How do we like
layin' over all the gals between this and 'Frisco?"
"Eh?"
She had not heard him. The tender beautiful eyes were engaged in an
anticipatory examination of the remembered shelves in the "Fancy
Emporium" at Sacramento; in reading the admiration of the clerks; in
glancing down a little criticisingly at the broad cowhide brogues that
strode at her side; in looking up the road for the stage-coach; in regarding
the fit of her new gloves--everywhere but in the loving eyes of the man
beside her.
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He, however, repeated the question, touched with her charming
preoccupation, and passing his arm around her little waist.
"I like it well enough, pa, you know!" she said, slightly disengaging
his arm, but adding a perfunctory little squeeze to his elbow to soften the
separation. "I always had an idea SOMETHING would happen. I
suppose I'm looking like a fright," she added; "but ma made me hurry to
get away before Don Caesar came."
"And you didn't want to go without seeing him?" he added, archly.
"I didn't want him to see me in this frock," said Mamie, simply. "I
reckon that's why ma made me change," she added, with a slight laugh.
"Well I reckon you're allus good enough for him in any dress," said
Mulrady, watching her attentively; "and more than a match for him
NOW," he added, triumphantly.
"I don't know about that," said Mamie. "He's been rich all the time,
and his father and grandfather before him; while we've been poor and his
tenants."
His face changed; the look of bewilderment, with which he had
followed her words, gave way to one of pain, and then of anger. "Did he
get off such stuff as that?" he asked, quickly.
"No. I'd like to catch him at it," responded Mamie, promptly.
"There's better nor him to be had for the asking now."
They had walked on a few moments in aggrieved silence, and the
Chinaman might have imagined some misfortune had just befallen them.
But Mamie's teeth shone again between her parted lips. "La, pa! it ain't
that! He cares everything for me, and I do for him; and if ma hadn't got
new ideas--" She stopped suddenly.
"What new ideas?" queried her father, anxiously.
"Oh, nothing! I wish, pa, you'd put on your other boots! Everybody
can see these are made for the farrows. And you ain't a market gardener
any more."
"What am I, then?" asked Mulrady, with a half-pleased, half-uneasy
laugh.
"You're a capitalist, I say; but ma says a landed proprietor."
Nevertheless, the landed proprietor, when he reached the boulder on the
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Red Dog highway, sat down in somewhat moody contemplation, with his
head bowed over the broad cowhide brogues, that seemed to have already
gathered enough of the soil to indicate his right to that title. Mamie, who
had recovered her spirits, but had not lost her preoccupation, wandered off
by herself in the meadow, or ascended the hillside, as her occasional
impatience at the delay of the coach, or the following of some ambitious
fancy, alternately prompted her. She was so far away at one time that the
stage- coach, which finally drew up before Mulrady, was obliged to wait
for her.
When she was deposited safely inside, and Mulrady had climbed to the
box beside the driver, the latter remarked, curtly,--
"Ye gave me a right smart skeer, a minit ago, stranger."
"Ez how?"
"Well, about three years ago, I was comin' down this yer grade, at just
this time, and sittin' right on that stone, in just your attitude, was a man
about your build and years. I pulled up to let him in, when, darn my skin!
if he ever moved, but sorter looked at me without speakin'. I called to
him, and he never answered, 'cept with that idiotic stare. I then let him
have my opinion of him, in mighty strong English, and drove off, leavin'
him there. The next morning, when I came by on the up-trip, darn my
skin! if he wasn't thar, but lyin' all of a heap on the boulder. Jim drops
down and picks him up. Doctor Duchesne, ez was along, allowst it was a
played-out prospector, with a big case of paralysis, and we expressed him
through to the County Hospital, like so much dead freight. I've allus
been kinder superstitious about passin' that rock, and when I saw you jist
now, sittin' thar, dazed like, with your head down like the other chap, it
rather threw me off my centre."
In the inexplicable and half-superstitious uneasiness that this
coincidence awakened in Mulrady's unimaginative mind, he was almost
on the point of disclosing his good fortune to the driver, in order to prove
how preposterous was the parallel, but checked himself in time.
"Did you find out who he was?" broke in a rash passenger. "Did you
ever get over it?" added another unfortunate.
With a pause of insulting scorn at the interruption, the driver resumed,
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pointedly, to Mulrady: "The pint of the whole thing was my cussin' a
helpless man, ez could neither cuss back nor shoot; and then afterwards
takin' you for his ghost layin' for me to get even." He paused again, and
then added, carelessly, "They say he never kem to enuff to let on who he
was or whar he kem from; and he was eventooally taken to a 'Sylum for
Doddering Idjits and Gin'ral and Permiskus Imbeciles at Sacramento.
I've heerd it's considered a first-class institooshun, not only for them ez is
paralyzed and can't talk, as for them ez is the reverse and is too chipper.
Now," he added, languidly turning for the first time to his miserable
questioners, "how did YOU find it?"
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