Gold

“McGlynn says you’re to go to the post-office and he’ll pay you there,” my guide instructed me.

The post-office proved to be a low adobe one-story building, with the narrow veranda typical of its kind. A line of men extended from its door and down the street as far as the eye could reach. Some of them had brought stools or boxes, and were comfortably reading scraps of paper.

I walked down the line. A dozen from the front I saw Johnny standing. This surprised me, for I knew he could not expect mail by this steamer. Before I had reached him he had finished talking to a stranger, and had yielded his place.

“Hullo!” he greeted me. “How you getting on?”

“So-so!” I replied. “I’m looking for a man who owes me twenty-five dollars.”

“Well, he’s here,” said Johnny confidently. “Everybody in town is here.”

We found McGlynn in line about a block down the street. When he saw me coming he pulled a fat buckskin bag from his breeches pocket, opened its mouth, and shook a quantity of its contents, by guess, into the palm of his hand.

“There you are,” said he; “that’s near enough. I’m a pretty good guesser. I hope you took care of the mules all right; you ought to, you’re from a farm.”

“I fixed ’em.”

“And the mud? How many times did you get stuck?”

“Not at all.”

He looked at me with surprise.

“Would you think of that, now!” said he. “You must have loaded her light.”

“I did.”

“Did you get all the goods over?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll acknowledge you’re a judgematical young man; and if you want a job with me I’ll let that lawyer go I spoke to the judge about. He handed it to me then, didn’t he?” He laughed heartily. “No? Well, you’re right. A man’s a fool to work for any one but himself. Where’s your bag? Haven’t any? How do you carry your dust? Haven’t any? I forgot; you’re a tenderfoot, of course.” He opened his buckskin sack with his teeth, and poured back the gold from the palm of his hand. Then he searched for a moment in all his pockets, and produced a most peculiar chunk of gold metal. It was nearly as thick as it was wide, shaped roughly into an octagon, and stamped with initials. This he handed to me.

“It’s about a fifty-dollar slug,” said he, “you can get it weighed. Give me the change next time you see me.”

“But I may leave for the mines to-morrow,” I objected.

“Then leave the change with Jim Recket of the El Dorado.”

“How do you know I’ll leave it?” I asked curiously.

“I don’t,” replied McGlynn bluntly. “But if you need twenty-five dollars worse than you do a decent conscience, then John A. McGlynn isn’t the man to deny you!”

Johnny and I left for the hotel.

“I didn’t know you expected any mail,” said I.

“I don’t.”

“But thought I saw you in line─”

“Oh, yes. When I saw the mail sacks, it struck me that there might be quite a crowd; so I came up as quickly as I could and got in line. There were a number before me, but I got a place pretty well up in front. Sold the place for five dollars, and only had to stand there about an hour at that.”

“Good head!” I admired. “I’d never have thought of it. How have you gotten on?”

“Pretty rotten,” confessed Johnny. “I tried all morning to find a decent opportunity to do something or deal in something, and then I got mad and plunged in for odd jobs. I’ve been a regular errand boy. I made two dollars carrying a man’s bag up from the ship.”

“How much all told?”

“Fifteen. I suppose you’ve got your pile.”

“That twenty-five you saw me get is the size of it.”

Johnny brightened; we moved up closer in a new intimacy and sense of comradeship over delinquency. It relieved both to feel that the other, too, had failed. To enter the Plaza we had to pass one of the larger of the gambling places.

“I’m going in here,” said Johnny, suddenly.

He swung through the open doors, and I followed him.

The place was comparatively deserted, owing probably to the distribution of mail. We had full space to look about us; and I was never more astonished in my life. The outside of the building was rough and unfinished as a barn, having nothing but size to attract or recommend. The interior was the height of lavish luxury. A polished mahogany bar ran down one side, backed by huge gilt framed mirrors before which were pyramided fine glasses and bottles of liquor. The rest of the wall space was thickly hung with more plate mirrors, dozens of well-executed oil paintings, and strips of tapestry. At one end was a small raised stage on which lolled half-dozen darkies with banjos and tambourines. The floor was covered with a thick velvet carpet. Easy chairs, some of them leather upholstered, stood about in every available corner. Heavy chandeliers of glass, with hundreds of dangling crystals and prisms, hung from the ceiling. The gambling tables, a half dozen in number, were arranged in the open floor space in the centre. Altogether it was a most astounding contrast in its sheer luxury and gorgeous furnishing to the crudity of the town. I became acutely conscious of my muddy boots, my old clothes, my unkempt hair, my red shirt and the armament strapped about my waist.

A relaxed, subdued air of idleness pervaded the place. The gamblers lounged back of their tables, sleepy-eyed and listless. On tall stools their lookouts yawned behind papers. One of these was a woman, young, pretty, most attractive in the soft, flaring, flouncy costume of that period. A small group of men stood at the bar. One of the barkeepers was mixing drinks, pouring the liquid, at arm’s length from one tumbler to another in a long parabolic curve, and without spilling a drop. Only one table was doing business, and that with only three players. Johnny pushed rapidly toward this table, and I, a little diffidently, followed.

The game was roulette. Johnny and the dealer evidently recognized each other, for a flash of the eye passed between them, but they gave no other sign. Johnny studied the board a moment then laid twenty-two dollars in coin on one of the numbers. The other players laid out small bags of gold dust. The wheel spun, and the ball rolled. Two of the men lost; their dust was emptied into a drawer beneath the table and the bags tossed back to them. The third had won; the dealer deftly estimated the weight of his bet, lifting it in the flat of his left hand; then spun several gold pieces toward the winner. He seemed quite satisfied. The gambler stacked a roll of twenty-dollar pieces, added one to them, and thrust them at Johnny. I had not realized that the astounding luck of winning off a single number had befallen him.

“Ten to one–two hundred and twenty dollars!” he muttered to me.

The other three players were laying their bets for the next turn of the wheel. Johnny swept the gold pieces into his pocket, and laid back the original stake against even. He lost. Thereupon he promptly arose and left the building.

CHAPTER XII

TALBOT DESERTS

I followed him to the hotel somewhat gloomily; for I was now the only member of our party who had not made good the agreed amount of the partnership. It is significant that never for a moment did either Johnny or myself doubt that Talbot would have the required sum. Johnny, his spirits quite recovered, whistled like a lark.

We arrived just in time for the first supper call, and found Talbot and Yank awaiting us. Yank was as cool and taciturn, and nodded to us as indifferently, as ever. Talbot, however, was full of excitement. His biscuit-brown complexion had darkened and flushed until he was almost Spanish-black, and the little devils in his eyes led a merry dance between the surface and unguessed depths. He was also exceedingly voluble; and, as usual when in that mood, aggravatingly indirect. He joked and teased and carried on like a small boy; and insisted on ordering an elaborate dinner and a bottle of champagne, in the face of even Johnny’s scandalized expostulations. When Johnny protested against expenditure, it was time to look out!

“This is on me! This is my party! Dry up, Johnny!” cried Talbot. “Fill your glasses. Drink to the new enterprise; the Undertakers’ Mining Company, Unlimited.”

“Undertakers?” I echoed.

“Well, you all look it. Call it the Gophers, then. Capital stock just eight hundred and eighty dollars, fully subscribed. I suppose it is fully subscribed, gentlemen?” He scrutinized us closely. “Ah, Frank! I see we’ll have to take your promissory note. But the artistic certificates are not yet home from the engravers. Take your time. Maybe a relative will die.”

“Talbot,” said I disgustedly, “if I hadn’t happened to smell your breath before supper I’d think you drunk.”

“I am drunk, old deacon,” rejoined Talbot, “but with the Wine of Enchantment–do you know your Persian? No? Well, then, this:

“Drink to me only with thine eyes,And I’ll not ask for wine!”

“A woman!” grumbled the literal Yank.

“The best, the most capricious, the most beautiful woman in the world,” cried Talbot, “whose smile intoxicates, whose frown drives to despair.”

“What are you drivelling about?” I demanded.

“The goddess fortune–what else? But come,” and Talbot rose with a sudden and startling transition to the calm and businesslike. “We can smoke outside; and we must hear each other’s reports.”

He paid for the dinner, steadfastly refusing to let us bear our share. I noticed that he had acquired one of the usual buckskin sacks, and shook the yellow dust from the mouth of it to the pan of the gold scales with quite an accustomed air.

We lit our pipes and sat down at one end of the veranda, where we would not be interrupted.

“Fire ahead, Yank,” advised Talbot.

“There’s two ways of going to the mines,” said Yank: “One is to go overland by horses to Sutter’s Fort or the new town of Sacramento, and then up from there into the foothills of the big mountains way yonder. The other is to take a boat and go up river to Sacramento and then pack across with horses.”

“How much is the river fare?” asked Talbot.

“You have to get a sailboat. It costs about forty dollars apiece.”

“How long would it take?”

“Four or five days.”

“And how long from here to Sutter’s Fort by horse?”

“About the same.”

“Depends then on whether horses are cheaper here or there.”

“They are cheaper there; or we can get our stuff freighted in by Greasers and hoof it ourselves.”

“Then I should think we ought to have a boat.”

“I got one,” said Yank.

“Good for you!” cried Talbot. “You’re a man after my own heart! Well, Johnny?”

Johnny told his tale, a little proudly and produced his required two hundred and twenty dollars.

“You had luck,” said Talbot non-committally, “and you ran a strong risk of coming back here without a cent, didn’t you? I want to ask you one question, Johnny. If you had lost, would you have been willing to have taken the consequences?”

“What do you mean?” asked Johnny blankly.

“Would you have been willing to have dropped out of this partnership?”

Johnny stared.

“I mean,” said Talbot kindly, “that you had no right to try to get this money by merely a gambler’s chance unless you were willing to accept the logical result if you failed. It isn’t fair to the rest of us.”

“I see what you mean,” said Johnny slowly. “No; I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Well, as I said, you had luck,” repeated Talbot cheerfully, “so we needn’t think of it further.” It was characteristic that Johnny took this veiled rebuke from Talbot Ward in a meek and chastened spirit; from any one else his high temper could never stand even a breath of criticism. “How about you, Frank?” Talbot asked me.

I detailed my experiences in a very few words and exhibited my gold slug.

“That’s the best I can do,” I ended, “and half of that does not belong to me. I can, however, in a few days scrape up the full amount; there is plenty to do here. And barring bull luck, like Johnny’s, I don’t see much show of beating that, unless a man settled down to stay here.”

Talbot stared at me, ruminatively, until I began to get restive. Then he withdrew his eyes. He made no comment.

“I suppose you have your money,” suggested Yank to him, after a pause.

“Oh–yes,” said Talbot as though awaking from profound reverie.

“Well, tell us about it. How did you get it? How long did it take you?”

“About half an hour. I figured that everybody in a place like this would be wanting news. So I sorted out that bundle of old newspapers you fellows were always laughing at, and I went out and sold them. Lucky I got busy with them early; for I don’t doubt the arrival of the Oregon broke the market.”

“How much did you get for them?” asked Johnny.

“A dollar apiece for most, and fifty cents for the rest. I came out two hundred and seventy dollars ahead all told. That, with Frank’s and my ten dollars, gave me sixty dollars above the necessary amount.”

Johnny arose and kicked himself solemnly.

“For not guessing what newspapers were good for,” he explained. “Go on! What next? What did you do with the rest of the day?”

Talbot leaned forward, and all the animation of the dinner table returned to his manner and to his face.

“Boys,” said he earnestly, “this is the most wonderful town that has ever been! There has been nothing like it in the past; and there will never be anything like it again. After I had sold out my papers I went wandering across the Plaza with my hands in my pockets. Next the El Dorado there is a hole in the ground. It isn’t much of a hole, and the edges are all caving in because it is sandy. While I was looking at it two men came along. One was the owner of the hole, and the other said he was a lawyer. The owner offered to rent the hole to the lawyer for two hundred and fifty dollars a month; and the lawyer was inclined to take him up. After they had gone on I paced off the hole, just for fun. It was twelve feet square by about six feet deep! Then I walked on down toward the water front, and talked with all the storekeepers. They do a queer business. All these goods we see around came out here on consignment. The local storekeepers have a greater or lesser share and sell mainly on commission. Since they haven’t any adequate storehouses, and can’t get any put up again, they sell the stuff mainly at auction and get rid of it as quickly as possible. That’s why some things are so cheap they can make pavements of them when a ship happens to come in loaded with one article. I talked with some of them and told them they ought to warehouse a lot of this stuff so as to keep it over until the market steadied. They agreed with that; but pointed out that they were putting up warehouses as fast as they could–which wasn’t very fast–and in the meantime the rains and dust were destroying their goods. It was cheaper to sell at auction.”

“And a heap more exciting,” put in Johnny. “I went to one of them.”

“Well, I wandered down to the shore, and looked out over the bay. It was full of shipping, riding high at anchor. I had an idea. I hired a boat for five dollars, and rowed out to some of the ships. Believe me or not, most of them were empty; not even a watchman aboard! I found some of the captains, however, and talked with each of them. They all told the same story.”

“Crews skipped to the mines, I suppose?” said Yank.

“Exactly. And they couldn’t get any more. So I offered to hire a few of them.”

“The captains?” I inquired.

“No; the ships.”

“The what?” we yelled in chorus.

“The ships.”

“But if the captains can’t get crews─”

“Oh, I don’t want to sail them,” went on Talbot impatiently. “It was hard work getting them to agree; they all cherished notions they could get crews and go sailing some more–good old salts! But I hired four, at last. Had to take them for only a month, however; and had to pay them in advance five hundred apiece.”

“I beg pardon,” said Johnny softly, “for interrupting your pleasing tale; but the last item interested me. I do not know whether I quite heard it right.”

“Oh, shut up, Johnny,” said Yank; “let the man tell his story. Of course he didn’t have the money in his pocket. How did you get it, Tal?”

Ward shot him a grateful glance.

“I told them I’d pay them at four o’clock which gave me plenty of time.”

“Two thousand dollars–oh, of course!” murmured Johnny.

“So then,” continued Talbot, “I hustled ashore; and went to see some of my merchant friends. In two hours I had contracts with twelve of them that totalled six thousand dollars.”

“Why didn’t some of them go out and hire ships on their own account?” asked Yank shrewdly.

“Because I didn’t mention the word ‘ship’ until I had their business,” said Talbot. “I just guaranteed them storage, waterproof, practically fireproof, dustproof, and within twenty-four hours. I guess most of them thought I was crazy. But as it didn’t cost them anything, they were willing to take a chance.”

“Then you didn’t raise your ten thousand dollars from them in advance payments!” I marvelled.

“Certainly not. That would have scared off the whole lot of them. But I got their agreements; I told you it took me two hours. Then I walked up the street figuring where I’d get the money. Of course I saw I’d have to divide the profits. I didn’t know anybody; but after a while I decided that the best chance was to get some advice from honest and disinterested man. So I asked the first man I met who ran the biggest gambling place in town. He told me Jim Recket.”

“Jim Recket?” I echoed. “He’s the man I was to leave change for my gold slug with.”

“Recket keeps the El Dorado, next door in the tent. He impressed me as a very quiet, direct, square sort of a fellow. The best type of professional gambler, in matters of this sort, generally is.

“‘I am looking for a man,’ said I, ‘who has a little idle money, some time, no gold-mining fever, plenty of nerve, and a broad mind. Can you tell me who he is?’

“He thought a minute and then answered direct, as I knew he would.

“‘Sam Brannan,’ he said.

“‘Tell me about him.’

“‘To take up your points,’ said Recket, checking off his fingers, ‘he came out with a shipload of Mormons as their head, and he collected tithes from them for over a year; that’s your idle money. He has all the time the Lord stuck into one day at a clip; that’s your “some time.” He has been here in the city since ’48 which would seem to show he doesn’t care much for mining. He collected the tithes from those Mormons, and sent word to Brigham Young that if he wanted the money to come and get it. That’s for your nerve. As for being broad minded–well, when a delegation of the Mormons, all ready for a scrap, came to him solemnly to say that they were going to refuse to pay him the tithes any more, even if he was the California head of the church, he laughed them off the place for having been so green as to pay them as long as they had.’

“I found Sam Brannan, finally, at the bar in Dennison’s Exchange.”

“What was he like?” asked Johnny eagerly. “I’ll bet I heard his name fifty times to-day.”

“He is a thickset, jolly looking, curly headed fellow, with a thick neck, a bulldog jaw, and a big voice,” replied Talbot. “Of course he tried to bully me, but when that didn’t work, he came down to business. We entered into an agreement.

“Brannan was to furnish the money, and take half the profits, provided he liked the idea. When we had settled it all, I told him my scheme. He thought it over a while and came in. Then we rowed off and paid the captains of the ships. It was necessary now to get them warped in at high tide, of course, but Sam Brannan said he’d see to that–he has some sort of a pull with the natives, enough to get a day’s labour, anyway.”

“Warp them in?” I echoed.

“Certainly. You couldn’t expect the merchants to lighter their stuff off in boats always. We’ll beach these ships at high tide, and then run some sort of light causeway out to them. There’s no surf, and the bottom is soft. It’ll cost us something, of course; but Sam and I figure we ought to divide three thousand clear.”

“I’d like to ask a question or so,” said I. “What’s to prevent the merchants doing this same hiring of ships for themselves?”

“Nothing,” said Talbot, “after the first month.”

“And what prevented Brannan, after he had heard your scheme, from going out on his own hook, and pocketing all the proceeds?”

“You don’t understand, Frank,” said Talbot impatiently. “Men of our stamp don’t do those things.”

“Oh!” said I.

“This,” said Johnny, “made it about two o’clock, as I figure your story. Did you then take a needed rest?”

“Quarter of two,” corrected Talbot, “I was going back to the hotel, when I passed that brick building–you know, on Montgomery Street. I remembered then that lawyer and his two hundred and fifty dollars for a hole in the ground. It seemed to me there was a terrible waste somewhere. Here was a big brick building filled up with nothing but goods. It might much better be filled with people. There is plenty of room for goods in those ships; but you can’t very well put people on the ships. So I just dropped in to see them about it. I offered to hire the entire upper part of the building; and pointed out that the lower part was all they could possibly use as a store. They said they needed the upper part as storehouse. I offered to store the goods in an accessible safe place. Of course they wanted to see the place; but I wouldn’t let on, naturally, but left it subject to their approval after the lease was signed. The joke of it is they were way overstocked anyway. Finally I made my grand offer.

“‘Look here,’ said I, ‘you rent me that upper story for a decent length of time–say a year–and I’ll buy out the surplus stock you’ve got up there at a decent valuation.’ They jumped at that; of course they pretended not to, but just the same they jumped. I’ll either sell the stuff by auction, even if at a slight loss, or else I’ll stick it aboard a ship. Depends a good deal on what is there, of course. It’s mostly bale and box goods of some sort or another. I’ve got an inventory in my pocket. Haven’t looked at it yet. Then I’ll partition off that wareroom and rent it out for offices and so forth. There are a lot of lawyers and things in this town just honing for something dignified and stable. I only pay three thousand a month for it.”

Johnny groaned deeply.

“Well,” persisted Talbot, “I figure on getting at least eight thousand a month out of it. That’ll take care of a little loss on the goods, if necessary. I’m not sure a loss is necessary.”

“And how much, about, are the goods?” I inquired softly.

“Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere between ten and twenty thousand, I suppose.”

“Paid for how, and when?”

“One third cash, and the rest in notes. The interest out here is rather high,” said Talbot regretfully.

“Where do you expect to get the money?” I insisted.

“Oh, money! money!” cried Talbot, throwing out his arms with a gesture of impatience. “The place is full of money. It’s pouring in from the mines, from the world outside. Money’s no trouble!”

He fell into an intent reverie, biting at his short moustache. I arose softly to my feet.

“Johnny,” said I, in a strangled little voice, “I’ve got to give back McGlynn’s change. Want to go with me?”

We tiptoed around the corner of the building, and fell into each other’s arms with shrieks of joy.

“Oh!” cried Johnny at last, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Money’s no trouble!”

After we had to some extent relieved our feelings we changed my gold slug into dust–I purchased a buckskin bag–and went to find McGlynn. Our way to his quarters led past the post-office, where a long queue of men still waited patiently and quietly in line. We stood for a few moments watching the demeanour of those who had received their mail, or who had been told there was nothing for them. Some of the latter were pathetic, and looked fairly dazed with grief and disappointment.

The letters were passed through a small window let in the adobe of the wall; and the men filed on to the veranda at one end and off it at the other. The man distributing mail was a small, pompous, fat Englishman. I recognized McGlynn coming slowly down with the line, and paid him half the dust in my bag.

As McGlynn reached the window, the glass in it slammed shut, and the clerk thrust a card against it.

“Mails close at 9 P.M.”