 The Idol of Red Gulch in Selected Stories by Bret Hart this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Selected Stories by Bret Hart the Idol of Red Gulch Sandy was very drunk He was lying under an azalea bush in pretty much the same attitude in which he had fallen some hours before How long he had been lying there? He could not tell and didn't care. How long he should lie there was a matter equally indefinite and Unconsidered a tranquil philosophy born of his physical condition suffused and saturated his moral being The spectacle of a drunken man and of this drunken man in particular Was not I grieve to say of sufficient novelty in Red Gulch to attract attention Earlier in the day some local satirist had erected a temporary tombstone at Sandy's head Bearing the inscription effects of McCorkle's whiskey kills at 40 rods with a hand pointing to McCorkle's saloon But this I imagine was like most local satire personal and was a reflection upon the unfairness of the process Rather than a commentary upon the impropriety of the result with this facetious exception Sandy had been undisturbed a Wandering mule released from his pack had cropped the scant herbage beside him and sniffed curiously at the prostrate man a Vagabond dog with that deep sympathy which the species have for a drunken man had licked his dusty boots and curled himself up at his feet and Lay there blinking one eye in the sunlight with a simulation of dissipation that was ingenious and dog-like in its implied flattery of the unconscious man beside him Meanwhile the shadows of the pine trees had slowly sunk until they crossed the road and their trunks barred the open metal with gigantic parallels of black and yellow Little puffs of red dust lifted by the plunging hooves of passing teams Dispersed in a grimy shower upon the recumbent man The sun sank lower and lower and still Sandy stirred not and then the repose of this philosopher was disturbed as Other philosophers have been by the intrusion of an unphilosophical sex Miss Mary as she was known to the little flock that she had just dismissed from the logs schoolhouse beyond the pines Was taking her afternoon walk Observing an unusually fine cluster of blossoms on the azalea bush opposite She crossed the road to pluck it picking her way through the red dust not without certain fierce little shivers of disgust and some feline circumlocation and Then she came suddenly upon Sandy Of course she uttered the little staccato cry of her sex But when she had paid that tribute to her physical weakness She became over-bold and halted for a moment at least six feet from this prostrate monster With her white skirts gathered in her hand ready for flight But neither sound nor motion came from the bush with one little foot She then overturned the satirical headboard and muttered beasts an epithet Which probably at that moment conveniently classified in her in mind the entire male population of Red Gulch For Miss Mary being possessed of certain rigid notions of her own had not perhaps properly Appreciated the demonstrative gallantry for which the Californian has been so justly celebrated by his brother Californians and had as a newcomer perhaps fairly earned the reputation of being stuck up As she stood there she noticed also that the slant sunbeams were heating Sandy's head To what she judged to be an unhealthy temperature and that his hat was lying uselessly at his side To pick it up and place it over his face was a work requiring some courage Particularly as his eyes were open yet. She did it and made good her retreat But she was somewhat concerned on looking back to see that the hat was removed and that Sandy was sitting up and saying Something the truth was that in the calm depths of Sandy's mind He was satisfied that the rays of the Sun were beneficial and healthful that from childhood He had objected to lying down in a hat that no people but condemned fools past redemption ever wore hats And that his right to dispense with them when he pleased was unalienable This was the statement of his inner consciousness Unfortunately its outward expression was vague being limited to a repetition of the following formula Sunshine, all right. What's her marry? What's up sunshine? Miss Mary stopped and taking fresh courage from her vantage of distance asked him if there was anything that he wanted What's up? Was there matter continued Sandy in a very high key Get up you horrid man said Miss Mary now thoroughly incensed get up and go home Sandy staggered to his feet. He was six feet high and Miss Mary trembled He started forward a few paces and then stop was I go home for he suddenly asked with great gravity Go and take a bath replied Miss Mary eyeing his grimy person with great disfavor To her infinite dismay Sandy suddenly pulled off his coat and vest threw them on the ground kicked off his boots and plunging wildly forward darted headlong over the hill in the direction of the river Goodness heaven the man will be drowned said Miss Mary and then with feminine inconsistency She ran back to the schoolhouse and locked herself in That night while seated at supper with her hostess the blacksmith's wife It came to Miss Mary to ask demerly if her husband ever got drunk Abner responded Mrs. Stiger Reflectively let's see Abner hasn't been tight since last election Miss Mary would have liked to ask if he preferred lying in the sun on these occasions And if a cold bath would have hurt him But this would have involved an explanation which she did not then care to give So she contented herself with opening her gray eyes widely at the red-cheeked Mrs. Stiger a fine specimen of Southwestern efflorescence and then dismissed the subject altogether The next day she wrote to her dearest friend in Boston I think I find the intoxicated portion of this community the least objectionable. I refer my dear to the men, of course I do not know anything that could make the women tolerable In less than a week Miss Mary had forgotten this episode Except that her afternoon walks took thereafter almost unconsciously another direction She noticed however that every morning a fresh cluster of azalea blossoms appeared among the flowers on her desk This was not strange as her little flock were aware of her fondness for flowers and Invariably kept her desk bright with anemones Syringes and lupines, but on questioning them. They won an all professed ignorance of the azaleas a Few days later master Johnny Stiger whose desk was nearest to the window was suddenly taken with spasms of Apparently gratuitous laughter that threatened the discipline of the school All that Miss Mary could get from him was that someone had been looking in the window I Rate and indignant. She sallied forth from her hive to do battle with the intruder as she turned the corner of the schoolhouse She came plump upon the quantum drunkard now perfectly sober and inexpressibly sheepish and guilty looking These facts Miss Mary was not slow to take a feminine advantage of in her present humor But it was somewhat confusing to observe also that the beast despite some faint signs of past dissipation was amiable looking In fact a kind of blonde Samson whose corn colored Silken beard apparently had never yet known the touch of a barbers razor or Delilah's shears so that the cutting speech which quivered on her ready tongue died upon her lips and she contented herself with receiving his stammering apology with supercilious Eyelids and the gathered skirts of uncontamination When she re-entered the schoolroom her eyes fell upon the azaleas with a new sense of revelation and Then she laughed and the little people all laughed and they were unconsciously very happy It was on a hot day and not long after this that two short-legged boys came to grief on the threshold of the school With a pail of water which they had laboriously brought from the spring and that Miss Mary Compassionately seized the pail and started for the spring herself At the foot of the hill a shadow crossed her path and a blue shirted arm dexterously bit gently relieved her of her burden Miss Mary was both embarrassed and angry if you carried more of that for yourself She said spitefully to the blue arm without daining to raise her lashes to its owner You do better in the submissive silence that followed She regretted the speech and thanked him so sweetly at the door that he stumbled Which caused the children to laugh again a laugh in which Miss Mary joined until the color came faintly into her pale cheek The next day a barrel was mysteriously placed beside the door and as mysteriously filled with fresh spring water every morning Nor was this superior young person without other quiet attentions Profane bill driver of the slum gullion stage was widely known in the newspapers for his gallantry in Invariably offering the box seat to the fair sex Had accepted Miss Mary from this attention on the ground that he had a habit of cussing on upgrades and gave her half the coach to herself Jack Hamlin a gambler having once silently ridden with her in the same coach Afterward threw a decanter at the head of the confederate for mentioning her name in a bar room The overdressed mother of a pupil whose paternity was doubtful had often lingered near this astute Vestal's temple Never daring to enter its sacred precincts, but content to worship the priestess from afar With such unconscious intervals the monotonous procession of blue skies Glittering sunshine brief twilight's and starlit nights passed over red gulch Miss Mary grew fond of walking in the sedate and proper woods Perhaps she believed with Mrs. Stiger that the balsamic odors of the furs did her chest good For certainly her slight cough was less frequent and her step was firmer Perhaps she had learned the unending lesson which the patient pines never weary of repeating to heedful or listless ears and So one day she planned a picnic on Buckeye Hill and took the children with her Away from the dusty road the straggling shanties the yellow ditches the clamor of restless engines The cheap finery of shop windows the deeper glitter of paint and colored glass and the thin veneering which barbarism takes upon itself in such Localities what infinite relief was theirs the last heap of ragged rock and clay past the last Unsightly chasm crossed how the waiting woods opened their long files to receive them How the children perhaps because they had not yet grown quite away from the breast of the bounteous mother Through themselves faced downward on her brown bosom with uncouth caresses Filling the air with their laughter and how Miss Mary herself Felinly fastidious and entrenched as she was in the purity of spotless skirts collar and cuffs Forgot all and ran like a crested quail at the head of her brood until Romping laughing and panting with a loosened braid of brown hair a hat hanging by a knotted ribbon from her throat She came suddenly and violently in the heart of the forest upon the luckless sandy The explanations apologies and not over wise conversation that ensued need not be indicated here It would seem however that Miss Mary had already established some acquaintance with this ex-drunkard Enough that he was soon accepted as one of the party that the children with that quick intelligence Which providence gives the helpless? Recognized a friend and played with his blonde beard and long silk and mustache and took other liberties as the helpless are apt to do And when he had built a fire against a tree and had shown them other mysteries of woodcraft their admiration knew no bounds At the close of two such foolish idle happy hours. He found himself lying at the feet of the school mistress Gazing dreamily in her face as she sat upon the sloping hillside weaving wreaths of laurel and syringia In very much the same attitude as he had lain when first they met Nor was the similitude greatly forced the weakness of an easy sensuous nature that had found a dreamy exultation and liquor It is to be feared was now finding an equal intoxication in love I think that sandy was dimly conscious of this himself I know that he longed to be doing something slaying a grizzly scalping a savage or sacrificing himself in some way for the sake of this shallow faced gray eyed school mistress As I should like to present him in a heroic attitude I stay my hand with great difficulty at this moment Being only withheld from introducing such an episode by a strong conviction that it does not usually occur at such times And I trust that my fairest reader who remembers that in a real crisis It is always some uninteresting stranger or unromantic policeman and not a dolphin who rescues will forgive the omission So they sat there undisturbed the woodpeckers chattering overhead and the voices of the children coming pleasantly from the hollow below What they said matters little what they thought which might have been interesting did not transpire The woodpeckers only learned how miss mary was a norfin How she left her uncle's house to come to california for the sake of health and independence How sandy was a norfin too how he came to california for excitement How he had lived a wild life and how he was trying to reform and other details Which from a woodpecker's viewpoint undoubtedly must have seemed stupid and a waste of time But even in such trifles was the afternoon spent and when the children were again gathered And sandy with a delicacy which the school mistress well understood took leave of them quietly at the outskirts of the settlement It had seemed the shortest day of her weary life As the long dry summer withered to its roots the school term of red gulch to use a local euphemism dried up also In another day miss mary would be free and for a season at least red gulch would know her no more She was seated alone in the schoolhouse her cheek resting on her hand Her eyes half closed in one of those daydreams in which miss mary I fear to the danger of school discipline was lately in the habit of indulging Her lap was full of mosses ferns and other woodland memories She was so preoccupied with these and her own thoughts that a gentle tapping at the door passed unheard Or translated itself into the remembrance of far-off woodpeckers When at last it asserted itself more distinctly. She started up with a flush cheek and opened the door On the threshold stood a woman the self-assertion and audacity of whose dress were in singular contrast to her timid irresolute bearing Miss mary recognized at a glance the dubious mother of her anonymous pupil Perhaps she was disappointed. Perhaps she was only fastidious But as she coldly invited her to enter she half consciously settled her white cuffs and collar And gathered closer her own chased skirts It was perhaps for this reason that the embarrassed stranger after a moment's hesitation Left her gorgeous parasol open and sticking in the dust beside the door And then sat down at the farther end of a long bench Her voice was husky as she began. I hear tell that you were going down to the bay tomorrow And I couldn't let you go until I came to thank you for your kindness to my tommy Tommy miss mary said was a good boy and deserved more than the poor attention she could give him Thank you miss. Thank you cried the stranger Brightening even through the color which red gulch knew facetiously as her war paint And striving in her embarrassment to drag the long bench nearer the schoolmistress I thank you miss for that and if I am his mother there ain't a sweeter dearer better boy lives than him And if I ain't much as says it there ain't a sweeter dearer angel or teacher lives than he's got Miss mary sitting primly behind her desk with a ruler over her shoulder Opened her gray eyes widely at this but said nothing It ain't for you to be complimented by the like of me. I know she went on hurriedly It ain't for me to be coming here in broad day to do it either But I come to ask a favor not for me miss not for me, but for the darling boy Encouraged by a look in the young schoolmistress's eye and putting her lilac-gloved hands together the fingers downward between her knees She went on in a low voice You see miss there's no one the boy has any claim on but me and I ain't the proper person to bring him up I thought some last year of sending him away to frisco to school But when they talked of bringing a schoolman here I waited till I saw you and then I knew it was all right And I could keep my boy a little longer And oh miss he loves you so much and if you could hear him talk about you in his pretty way And if he could ask you what I ask you now you couldn't refuse him It is natural she went on rapidly in a voice that trembled strangely between pride and humility It's natural that he should take to you miss for his father when I first knew him was a gentleman And the boy must forget me sooner or later. And so I ain't going to cry about that For I come to ask you to take my tommy. God bless him for the bestest sweetest boy that lives to to take him with you She had risen and caught the young girl's hand in her own and had fallen on her knees beside her I've plenty money and it's all yours and his Put him in some good school where you can go and see him and help him to to To forget his mother do with him what you like the worst you can do will be kindness to what he will learn with me Only take him out of this wicked life this cruel place this home of shame and sorrow You will I know you will won't you you will you must not you cannot say no You will make him as pure as gentle as yourself and when he has grown up you will tell him his father's name The name that hasn't passed my lips for years the name of alexander morton whom they call here sandy Miss mary do not take your hand away. Miss mary speak to me. You will take my boy Do not put your face from me. I know it ought not to look on such as me. Miss mary my god be merciful She is leaving me Miss mary had risen and in the gathering twilight had felt her way to the open window She stood there leaning against the casement her eyes fixed on the last rosy tints that were fading from the western sky There was still some of its light on her pure young forehead on her white collar on her clasped white hands But all was fading slowly away The suppliant had dragged herself still on her knees beside her I know it takes some time to consider. I will wait here all night, but I cannot go until you speak Do not deny me now. You will I see it in your sweet face such a face as I have seen in my dreams I see it in your eyes. Miss mary you will take my boy The last red beam crept higher suffused Miss mary's eyes was something of its glory flickered and faded and went out The sun had set on red gulch in the twilight and silence miss mary's voice sounded pleasantly I will take the boy send him to me tonight The happy mother raised the hem of miss mary's skirts to her lips She would have buried her hot face in its virgin folds, but she dared not she rose to her feet Does this man know of your intention asked miss mary suddenly No, nor cares. He has never even seen the child to know it Go to him at once tonight now Tell him what you have done. Tell him I have taken his child and tell him he must never see see the child again Whenever it may be he must not come wherever I may take it. He must not follow There go now, please. I'm weary and have much yet to do They walked together to the door on the threshold the woman turned Good night She would have fallen at miss mary's feet But at the same moment the young girl reached out her arms Caught the sinful woman to her own pure breast for one brief moment and then closed and locked the door It was with a sudden sense of great responsibility that profane bill took the reigns of the slumgullian stage the next morning For the school mistress was one of his passengers As he entered the high road in obedience to a pleasant voice from the inside He suddenly rained up his horses and respectfully waited as tommy hopped out at the command of miss mary Not that bush tommy the next Tommy whipped out his new pocket knife and cutting a branch from a tall azalea bush Returned with it to miss mary. All right now All right, and the stage door closed on the idol of red gulch End of the idol of red gulch recording by cibela dentin carolton georgia october 2007 brown of calaveras in selected stories by bret hart This is a libra vox recording. All libra vox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit libra vox.org Selected stories by bret hart brown of calaveras A subdued tone of conversation and the absence of cigar smoke and boot heels at the windows of the wingdom's sage coach Made it evident that one of the inside passengers was a woman A disposition on the part of loungers at the stations to congregate before the window And some concern in regard to the appearance of coats hats and collars further indicated that she was lovely All of which mr. jack hamlin on the box seat noted with the smile of cynical philosophy Not that he depreciated the sex but that he recognized therein a deceitful element The pursuit of which sometimes drew mankind away from the equally uncertain blandishments of poker Of which it may be remarked that mr. Hamlin was a professional exponent So that when he placed his narrow boot on the wheel and leaped down He did not even glance at the window from which a green veil was fluttering But lounged up and down with that listless and grave indifference of his class Which was perhaps the next thing to good breeding With his closely buttoned figure and self-contained air he was a marked contrast to the other passengers With their feverish restlessness and boisterous emotion and even bill masters a graduate of harvard with his slovenly dress His overflowing vitality his intense appreciation of lawlessness and barbarism And his mouth filled with crackers and cheese I fear cut an unromantic figure beside this lonely calculator of chances With his pale greek face and Homeric gravity The driver called all aboard and mr. Hamlin returned to the coach His foot was upon the wheel and his face raised to the level of the open window When at the same moment what appeared to him to be the finest eyes in the world suddenly met his He quietly dropped down again addressed a few words to one of the inside passengers Affected an exchange of seats and as quietly took his place inside Mr. Hamlin never allowed his philosophy to interfere with decisive and prompt action I fear that this eruption of jack cast some restraint upon the other passengers Particularly those who are making themselves most agreeable to the lady One of them leaned forward and apparently conveyed her information regarding mr. Hamlin's profession in a single epithet Whether mr. Hamlin heard it or whether he recognized in the informant a distinguished jurors from whom But a few evenings before he had won several thousand dollars. I cannot say His colorless face betrayed no sign his black eyes quietly observant glanced Indifferently past the legal gentleman and rested on the much more pleasing features of his neighbor An indian stoicism said to be an inheritance from his maternal ancestor Stood him in good service until the rolling wheels rattled upon the river gravel at scott's ferry And the stage drew up at the international hotel for dinner The legal gentleman and a member of congress leaped out and stood ready to assist the descending goddess While colonel scar bottle of sissy u took charge of her parasol and shawl In this multiplicity of attention there was a momentary confusion and delay Jack hamlin quietly opened the opposite door of the coach took the lady's hand with that decision and positiveness Which a hesitating and undecided sex knew how to admire And in an instant had dexterously and gracefully swung her to the ground and again lifted her to the platform An audible chuckle on the box. I fear came from the other cynic yuba bill the driver Look carefully after that baggage colonel said the expressman with affected concern as he looked after colonel star bottle Gloomily bringing up the rear of the triumphant procession to the waiting room Mr. Hamlin did not stay for dinner his horse was already saddled and awaiting him He dashed over the ford up the gravelly hill and out onto the dusty perspective of the wingdom road Like one leaving pleasant fancy behind him The inmates of dusty cabins by the roadside shaded their eyes with their hands and looked after him Recognizing the man by his horse and speculating what was up with comanche jack Yet much of this interest centered on the horse in a community where the time made by fringes pete's mayor and his run from the Sheriff of calaveris eclipsed all concern in the ultimate fate of that worthy The sweating flanks of his gray at length recalled him to himself He checked his speed and turning into a by-road sometimes used as a cutoff Trotted leisurely along the reins hanging listlessly from his fingers As he wrote on the character of the landscape changed and became more pastoral openings in groves of pine and sycamore disclosed some rude attempts at civilization A flowering vine trailed over the porch of one cabin and a woman rocked her cradle babe under the roses of another A little farther on mr. Hamlin came upon some bare-legged children waiting in the willowy creek And so wrought upon them with abandonage peculiar to himself that they were emboldened to climb up his horse's legs And over his saddle until he was feigned to develop an exaggerated ferocity of demeanor and to escape Leaving behind some kisses and coin And then advancing deeper into the woods where all signs of habitation failed he began to sing Uplifting a tenor so singularly sweet and shaded by apathos so subduing and tender That I walked the robins and linnets stopped to listen Mr. Hamlin's voice was not cultivated the subject of his song was some sentimental lunacy borrowed from the negro minstrels But they're thrilled through all some occult quality of tone and expression that was unspeakably touching Indeed it was a wonderful sight to see this sentimental black leg with a pack of cards in his pocket and a revolver at his back Sending his voice before him through the dim woods with a plaint about his nelly's grave in a way that overflowed the eyes of the listener A sparrow hawk fresh from his sixth victim Possibly recognizing in mr. Hamlin a kindred spirit stared at him in surprise and was feigned to confess the superiority of man With a superior predatory capacity. He couldn't sing But mr. Hamlin presently found himself again on the high road and at his former pace Ditches and banks of gravel denuded hillsides stumps and decayed trunks of trees Took the place of woodland and ravine and indicated his approach to civilization Then a church steeple came into sight and he knew that he had reached home In a few moments. He was clattering down the single narrow street that lost itself in a chaotic ruin of races Ditches and tailings at the foot of the hill and dismounted before the gilded windows of the magnolia saloon Passing through the long bar room. He pushed open a green bay's door Entered a dark passage opened another door with a pass key and found himself in a dimly lighted room whose furniture Though elegant and costly for the locality showed signs of abuse The inlaid center table was overloaded with stained discs that were not contemplated in the original design The embroidered armchairs were discolored and the green velvet lounge on which mr. Hamlin threw himself Was soiled at the foot with the red soil of wingdom Mr. Hamlin did not sing in his cage He lay still looking at a highly colored painting above him representing a young creature of opulent charms It occurred to him then for the first time that he had never seen exactly that kind of a woman And that if he should he would not probably fall in love with her Perhaps he was thinking of another style of beauty But just then someone knocked at the door without rising he pulled a cord that apparently shot back a bolt For the door swung open and a man entered The newcomer was broad-shouldered and robust a vigor not borne out in the face Which though handsome was singularly weak and disfigured by dissipation He appeared to be also under the influence of liquor for he started on seeing mr. Hamlin and said I thought kate was here Stammered and seemed confused and embarrassed Mr. Hamlin smiled the smile which he had before worn on the wingdom coach and sat up quite refreshed and ready for business You didn't come up on the stage continued the newcomer. Did you know replied hamlin? I left it at scott's ferry It isn't due for half an hour yet, but how's luck brown Damn bad said brown his face suddenly assuming an expression of weak despair I'm cleaned out again jack. He continued in a whining tone that formed a pitiable contrast to his bulky figure Can't you help me with a hundred till tomorrow's cleanup? You see I've got to send money home to the old woman and you've won 20 times that amount from me The conclusion was perhaps not entirely logical But jack overlooked it and handed the sum to his visitor The old woman business is about played out brown. He added by way of commentary Why don't you say you want to buck again ferro? You know that you ain't married Fact sir said brown with sudden gravity As if the mere contact of the gold with the palm of the hand had imparted some dignity to his frame I've got a wife a damned good one too if I do say it in the states It's three years since I've seen her and a year since I've written to her When things is about straight and we get down to the lead. I'm going to send for her and kate queried mr. Hamlin with his previous smile Mr. Brown of calaveris essayed an arch-ness of glance to cover his confusion Which his weak face and whiskey muddled intellect but poorly carried out and said Damn it jack a man must have a little liberty, you know, but come what do you say to a little game? Give us a show to double this hundred Jack hamlin looked curiously at his fatuous friend Perhaps he knew that the man was predestined to lose the money And he preferred that it should flow back into his own coffers rather than any other He nodded his head and drew his chair toward the table at the same moment. There came a wrap on the door It's kate said mr. Brown Mr. Hamlin shot back the bolt and the door opened but for the first time in his life He staggered to his feet utterly unnerved and abashed and for the first time in his life the hot blood crimsoned his colorless cheeks to his forehead For before him stood the lady he had lifted from the winged him coach whom brown Dropping his cards with a hysterical laugh greeted as my old woman by thunder They say that mrs. Brown burst into tears and reproaches of her husband I saw her in 1857 at marysville and disbelieved the story And the winged him chronicle of the next week under the head of touching reunions said One of those beautiful and touching incidents peculiar to california life occurred last week in our city The wife of one of wingdom's eminent pioneers tired of the effete civilization of the east and its inhospitable climate Resolved to join her noble husband upon these golden shores Without informing him of her intention. She undertook the long journey and arrived last week The joy of the husband may be easier imagined than described The meeting is said to have been indescribably affecting. We trust her example may be followed Whether owing to mrs. Brown's influence or to some more successful speculations Mr. Brown's financial fortune from that day steadily improved He bought out his partners in the nip and tuck led with money Which was said to have been won at poker a week or two after his wife's arrival But which rumor adopting mrs. Brown's theory that brown had foresworn the gaming table Declared to have been furnished by mr. Jack hamlin He built and furnished the wingdom house which pretty mrs. Brown's great popularity kept overflowing with guests He was elected to the assembly and gave largesse to churches a street in wingdom was named in his honor Yet it was noted that in proportion as he waxed wealthy and fortunate he grew pale thin and anxious As his wife's popularity increased he became fretful and impatient The most luxurious of husbands he was absurdly jealous If he did not interfere with his wife's social liberty It was because it was maliciously whispered that his first and only attempt was met by an outburst for mrs. Brown That terrified him into silence Much of this kind of gossip came from those of her own sex Whom she had supplanted in the chivalrous attentions of wingdom Which like most popular chivalry was devoted to an admiration of power Whether of masculine force or feminine beauty It should be remembered too in her extinction that since her arrival She had been the most unconscious priestess of a mythological worship Perhaps not more ennobling to her womanhood than that which distinguished an older greek democracy I think that brown was dimly conscious of this But his only confident was jack hamlin whose inflex reputation naturally precluded any open intimacy with the family And whose visits were infrequent It was mid-summer and a moonlit night and mrs. Brown very rosy large-eyed and pretty Sat upon the piazza enjoying the fresh incense of the mountain breeze And it is to be feared another incense which was not so fresh nor quite as innocent Beside her sat colonel star buttle and judge boom pointer and a later addition to her court in the shape of a foreign tourist She was in good spirits What do you see down the road inquired the galant colonel who had been conscious for the last few minutes that mrs. Brown's attention was diverted Dust said mrs. Brown with a sigh only sister and's flock of sheep The colonel whose literary recollection did not extend further back than last week's paper took a more practical view It ain't sheep. He continued. It's a horseman judge ate that jack hamlin's gray But the judge didn't know and as mrs. Brown suggested the air was growing too cold for further investigations They retired to the parlor Mr. Brown was in the stable where he generally retired after dinner Perhaps it was to show his contempt for his wife's companions Perhaps like other weak natures. He found pleasure in the exercise of absolute power over inferior animals He had a certain gratification in the training of a chestnut mare Who he could beat or caress as pleased him which he couldn't do with mrs. Brown It was here that he recognized a certain gray horse which had just come in And looking a little farther on found his rider Brown's greeting was cordial and hearty. Mr. Hamlin's somewhat restrained But at brown's urgent request he followed him up the back stairs to a narrow corridor And thence to a small room looking out upon the stable yard It was plainly furnished with a bed a table a few chairs and a rack for guns and whips This year's my home jack said brown with a sigh as he threw himself upon the bed And motioned his companion to a chair her rooms to other end of the hall It's more in six months since we've lived together or met except at meals It's mighty rough papers on the head of the house ain't it he said with a forced laugh But I'm glad to see a jack damn glad and he reached from the bed and again Shook the unresponsive hand of jack hamlin I brought you up here for I didn't want to talk in the stable though for the matter of that it's all around town Don't strike a light. We can talk here in the moonshine. Put up your feet on that window and sit here beside me There's whiskey in that jug Mr. Hamlin did not avail himself of the information Brown of calaveras turned his face to the wall and continued if I didn't love the woman jack I wouldn't mind But it's loving her and seeing her day after day going on at this rate and no one to put down the break That's what gets me, but I'm glad to see you jack damn glad In the darkness he groped about until he had found and rung his companion's hand again He would have detained it but jack slipped it into the buttoned breast of his coat and asked listlessly How long has this been going on? Ever since she came here ever since the day she walked into the magnolia I was a fool then jack and I'm a fool now, but I didn't know how much I loved her till then And she hasn't been the same woman since But that ain't all jack and that's what I wanted to see you about and I'm glad you've come It ain't that she doesn't love me anymore. It ain't that she fools with every chap that comes along For perhaps I staked her love and lost it as I did everything else at the magnolia And perhaps fooling is natural to some women and there ain't no great harm done except to the fools But jack I think I think she loves somebody else Don't move jack. Don't move if your pistol hurts you take it off It's been more than six months now that she seemed unhappy and lonesome and kind of nervous and scared like And sometimes I've catched her looking at me sort of timid and pideon And she writes to somebody and for the last week she's been gathering her own things Trinkets and furblows and jewelry and jack. I think she's going off I could stand all but that to have her steal away like a thief He put his face downward to the pillow and for a few moments There was no sound but the ticking of a clock on the mantle Mr. Hamlin lit a cigar and moved to the open window The moon no longer shone into the room and the bed and its occupant were in shadow What shall I do jack said the voice from the darkness The answer came promptly and clearly from the window side Spot the man and kill him on sight But jack he's took the risk but what will bring her back Jack did not reply but moved from the window toward the door Don't go yet jack like the candle and sit by the table. It's a comfort to see you if nothing else Jack hesitated and then complied He drew a pack of cards from his pocket and shuffled them glancing at the bed But brown's face was turned to the wall When mr. Hamlin had shuffled the cards he cut them and dealt one card on the opposite side of the table and toward the bed And another on his side of the table for himself The first was a deuce his own card a king He then shuffled and cut again This time dummy had a queen and himself a forespot Jack brightened up for the third deal It brought his adversary a deuce and himself a king again Two out of three said jack audibly What's that jack said brown nothing Then jack tried his hand with dice, but he always threw sixes and his imaginary opponent aces The force of habit is sometimes confusing Meanwhile some magnetic influence brought mr. Hamlin's presence or the anodyne of liquor or both Brought surcease of sorrow and brown slept Mr. Hamlin moved his chair to the window and looked out on the town of wingdom now sleeping peacefully It's harsh outline softened and subdued its glaring colors mellowed and sobered in the moonlight that flowed overall In the hush he could hear the gurgling of water in the ditches and the sighing of the pines beyond the hill Then he looked up at the firmament and as he did so a star shot across the twinkling field Presently another and then another the phenomenon suggested to mr. Hamlin a fresh augury If in another 15 minutes another star should fall He sat there watching hand for twice that time, but the phenomenon was not repeated The clock struck two and brown still slept Mr. Hamlin approached the table and took from his pocket a letter which he read by the flickering candlelight It contained only a single line Written in pencil in a woman's hand Be at the corral with the buggy at three The sleeper moved uneasily and then awoke are you there jack? Yes Don't go yet jack. I dreamed just now jack dreamed of old times I thought that sue and me was being married again and that the parson jack was who do you think you The gambler laughed and seated himself on the bed the paper still in his hand It's a good sign, ain't it queried brown. I reckon say old man. Hadn't you better get up? The old man thus affectionately appealed to rose with the assistance of hamlin's outstretched hand smoke Brown mechanically took the proffered cigar light Jack had twisted the letter into a spiral lit it and held it for his companion He continued to hold it until it was consumed and dropped the fragment a fiery star from the open window He watched it as it fell and then returned to his friend Old man he said placing his hands upon brown shoulders in 10 minutes I'll be on the road and gone like that spark We won't see each other again, but before I go take a fool's advice Sell out all you've got take your wife with you and quit the country It ain't no place for you nor her tell her she must go make her go if she won't Don't whine because you can't be a saint and she ain't an angel Be a man and treat her like a woman. Don't be a damn fool. Goodbye He tore himself from brown's grasp and leaped down the stairs like a deer At the stable door. He collared the half sleeping hustler and backed him against the wall Saddle my horse in two minutes or I'll the ellipse was frightfully suggestive The missus said you was to have the buggy stammered the man Damn the buggy The horse was saddled as fast as the nervous hands of the astounded hustler could manipulate buckle and strap Is anything up? Mr. Hamlin said the man who like all his class admired the allon of his fiery patron and was really concerned in his welfare Stand aside The man fell back with an oath abound in a clatter jack was into the road In another moment to the man's half awakened eyes He was but a moving cloud of dust in the distance toward which a star just loose term its brethren was trailing a stream of fire But early that morning the dwellers by the wingdom turnpike miles away heard a voice Pure as the skylarks singing a field They who were asleep turned over on their rude couches to dream of youth and love and olden days Hard-faced men and anxious gold seekers already at work Seize their labors and leaned upon their picks to listen to a romantic vagabond ambling away against the rosy sunrise end of brown of calaveris Recording by sablea dentin carolton georgia october 2007 High watermark in selected stories by brett hart This is a libra vox recording. All libra vox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit libra vox.org Selected stories by brett hart high watermark When the tide was out on the dead low marsh its extended dreariness was patent It's spongy low lying surface sluggish inky pools and torturous sloths Twisting their slimy way eel-like toward the open bay were all hard facts So were the few green tussocks with their scant blades their amphibious flavor and unpleasant dampness And if you chose to indulge your fancy although the flat monotony of the dead low marsh was not inspiring The wavy line of scattered drift gave an unpleasant consciousness of the spent waters And made the dead certainty of the returning tide a gloomy reflection Which no present sunshine could dissipate The greener meadowland seemed depressed with this idea and made no positive attempt at vegetation until the work of reclamation Should be made complete In the bitter fruit of the low cranberry bushes one might fancy he detected a naturally sweet disposition Curdled and soured by an injudicious course of too much regular cold water The vocal expression of the dead low marsh was also melancholy and depressing The sepulcher boom of the bittern the shriek of the curlew the screaming of the passing brunt The wrangling of quarrelsome teal the sharp quarrelious protest of the startled crane And civil complaint of the kill-deer plover were beyond the power of written expression Nor was the aspect of these mournful fowls at all cheerful and inspiring Certainly not the blue heron standing mid-leg deep in the water Obviously catching cold in a reckless disregard of wet feet and consequences Nor the mournful curlew the dejected plover or the low-spirited snipe who saw fit to join him in his suicidal Contemplation nor the impassive kingfisher an ornithological merrius reviewing the desolate expanse Nor the black raven that went to and fro over the face of the marsh continually But evidently couldn't make up his mind whether the waters had subsided and felt low spirited in the reflection that After all this trouble he wouldn't be able to give a definite answer On the contrary it was evident at a glance that the dreary expanse of dead low marsh told unpleasantly on the birds And that the season of migration was looked forward to with the feeling of relief and satisfaction by the full groan And of extravagant anticipation by the callow brood But if dead low marsh was cheerless at the slack of the low tide You should have seen it when the tide was strong and full When the damp air blew chili over the cold glittering expanse and came to the faces of those who looked seaward like another tide When a steel light glint marked the low hollows and the sinuous line of slaw When the great shell encrusted trunks of fallen trees arose again and went forth on their dreary purposeless wanderings Drifting hither and thither but getting no farther toward any goal at the falling tide or days declined than the curse at hebrew in the legend When the glossy ducks swung silently making neither ripple nor furrow on the shimmering surface When the fog came in with the tide and shut out the blue above Even as the green below had been obliterated when boatman lost in that fog paddling about in a hopeless way Started at what seemed the brushing of mermen's fingers on the boat's keel Or shrank from the tufts of grass spreading around like the floating hair of a corpse And knew by these signs that they were lost upon dead low marsh and must make a night of it And a gloomy one at that then you might know something of dead low marsh at high water Let me recall a story connected with this ladder view which never failed to recur to my mind in my long gunning excursions upon dead low marsh Although the event was briefly recorded in the county paper I had the story in all its eloquent detail from the lips of the principal actor I cannot hope to catch the varying emphasis and peculiar coloring of feminine delineation For my narrator was a woman, but I'll try to give at least its substance She lived midway of the great slaw of dead low marsh and a good-sized river Which debushed four miles beyond into an estuary formed by the pacific ocean on the long sandy peninsula Which constituted the southwestern boundary of a noble bay The house in which she lived was a small frame cabin raised from the marsh a few feet by stout poles And was three miles distant from the settlements upon the river Her husband was a logger a profitable business in a county where the principal occupation was the manufacture of lumber It was the season of early spring when her husband left on the ebb of a high tide With a raft of logs for the usual transportation to the lower end of the bay As she stood by the door of the little cabin when the voyagers departed She noticed a cold look in the southeastern sky And she remembered hearing her husband say to his companions That they must endeavor to complete their voyage before the coming of the southwestern league gale Which he saw brewing And that night it began to storm and blow harder than she had ever before experienced And some great trees fell in the forest by the river and the house rocked like her baby's cradle But however the storm might roar about the little cabin She knew that once she trusted had driven bolt and bar with his own strong hand and that had he feared for her He would not have left her This and her domestic duties and the care of her little sickly baby Helped to keep her mind from dwelling on the weather Except of course to hope that he was safely harbored up with the logs at utopia in the dreary distance But she noticed that day when she went out to feed the chickens and look after the cow That the tide was up to the little fence of their garden patch And the roar of the surf on the south beach though miles away she could hear distinctly And she began to think that she would have to have someone to talk with about matters And she believed that if it had not been so far and so stormy and the trail so impassable She would have taken the baby and have gone over to rickman's her nearest neighbor But then you see he might have returned in the storm all wet with no one to see to him And it was a long exposure for baby who was croopy and ailing But that night she could never tell why she didn't feel like sleeping or even lying down The storm had somewhat abated but she still sat and sat and even tried to read I don't know whether it was a bible or some profane magazine that this poor woman read But most probably the latter for the words all ran together and made such sad nonsense That she was forced at last to put the book down and turn to that dearer volume Which lay before her in the cradle with its white initial leaf as yet unsoiled And try to look forward to its mysterious future And rocking the cradle she thought of everything and everybody but was still as wide awake as ever It was nearly twelve o'clock when she at last laid down in her clothes How long she slept she could not remember but she awoke with a dreadful choking in her throat And found herself standing trembling all over in the middle of the room With her baby clasped to her breast and she was saying something The baby cried and sobbed and she walked up and down trying to hush it when she heard a scratching at the door She opened it fearfully and was glad to see it was only old Pete their dog who crawled dripping with water into the room She would like to have looked out not in the faint hope of her husband's coming But to see how things looked but the wind shook the door so savagely that she could hardly hold it Then she sat down a little while and then walked up and down a little while And then she lay down again a little while lying close by the wall of the little cabin She thought she heard once or twice something scrape slowly against the clapboards like the scraping of branches Then there was a little gurgling sound like the baby made when it was swallowing Then something went click click and chuck chuck so that she sat up in bed When she did so she was attracted by something else that seemed creeping from the back door toward the center of the room It wasn't much wider than her little finger But soon it swelled to the width of her hand and began spreading all over the floor. It was water She ran to the front door and threw it wide open and saw nothing but water She ran to the back door and threw it open and saw nothing but water She ran to the side window and throwing that open. She saw nothing but water Then she remembered hearing her husband once say that there was no danger in the tide For that fell regularly and people could calculate on it and that he would rather live near the bay than the river Whose banks might overflow at any time But was it the tide so she ran again to the back door and threw out a stick of wood It drifted away toward the bay She scooped up some of the water and put it eagerly to her lips. It was fresh and sweet It was the river and not the tide It was then oh god be praised for his goodness. She did neither faint nor fall It was then blessed be the savior for it was his merciful hand that touched and strengthened her in this awful moment That fear dropped from her like a garment and her trembling ceased It was then and thereafter that she never lost herself command through all the trials of that gloomy night She drew the bedstead toward the middle of the room and placed a table upon it and on that she put the cradle The water on the floor was already over her ankles and the house once or twice moved so perceptibly And seemed to be racked so that the closet doors all flew open Then she heard the same rasping and thumping against the wall and looking out saw that a large uprooted tree Which had lain near the road at the upper end of the pasture had floated down to the house Luckily its long roots dragged in the soil and kept it for moving as rapidly as the current For had it struck the house in its full career Even the strong nails and bolts in the piles could not have withstood the shock The hound had leaped upon its naughty surface and crouched near the roots shivering and whiny A ray of hope flashed across her mind She drew a heavy blanket from the bed and wrapping it about the babe Waded in the deepening waters to the door As the tree sprung again broadside on making the little cabin creek and tremble she left onto its trunk By god's mercy she succeeded in obtaining a footing on its slippery surface And twining an arm about its roots. She held in the other her moaning child Then something cracked near the front porch and the whole front of the house She had just quitted fell forward just as cattle fall on their knees before they lie down And at the same moment the great redwood tree swung round and drifted away with its living cargo into the black night For all the excitement and danger for all her soothing of her crying babe For all the whistling of the wind for all the uncertainty of her situation She still turned to look at the deserted and waterswept cabin She remembered even then and she wonders how foolish she was to think of it at that time That she wished she had put on another dress and the baby's best clothes And she kept praying that the house would be spared so that he When he returned would have something to come to and it wouldn't be quite so desolate and How could he ever know what had become of her and the baby? And at the thought she grew sick and faint But she had something else to do besides worrying for whenever the long roots of her arcs struck at an obstacle The whole trunk made half a revolution and twice dipped her in the black water The hound who kept distracting her by running up and down the tree howling at last fell off and one of these collisions He swam for some time beside her and she tried to get the poor beast up on the tree But he acted silly and wild and at last she lost sight of him forever Then she and her baby were left alone The light which had burned for a few minutes in the deserted cabin was quenched suddenly She could not tell then whether she was drifting The outline of the white dunes on the peninsula showed dimly ahead And she judged the tree was moving in a line with the river It must be about slack water and she had probably reached the eddy formed by the confluence of the tide and the overflowing waters of the river Unless the tide fell soon There was present danger of her drifting to its channel and being carried out to sea or crushed in the floating drift That peril averted if she were carried out on the ebb towards the bay She might hope to strike one of the wooded promontories of the peninsula and rest till daylight Sometimes she thought she heard voices and shouts from the river and the bellowing of cattle and bleeding of sheep Then again it was only the ringing in her ears and the throbbing of her heart She found at about this time that she was so chilled and stiffened in her cramped position That she could scarcely move and the baby cried so much when she put it to her breast that she noticed the milk refused to flow And she was so frightened at that that she put her head under her shawl and for the first time cried bitterly When she raised her head again the boom of the surf was behind her and she knew that her arc had again swung round She dipped up the water to cool her parched throat and found that it was as salt as her tears There was a relief though for by this sign she knew that she was drifting with the tide It was then the wind went down and the great and awful silence oppressed her There was scarcely a ripple against the furloughed sides of the great trunk on which she rested and all around her was black gloom and quiet She spoke to the baby just to hear herself speak and to know that she had not lost her voice She thought then it was queer, but she could not help thinking it How awful must have been the night when the great ship swung over the asiatic peak and the sounds of creation were blotted out from the world She thought too of mariners clinging to spars and of poor women who were lashed to rafts and beaten to death by the cruel sea She tried to thank god that she was thus spared and lifted her eyes from the baby who had fallen into a fretful sleep Suddenly away to the southward a great light lifted itself out of the gloom and flashed and flickered and flickered and flashed again Her heart fluttered quickly against the baby's cold cheek It was the lighthouse at the entrance of the bay As she was yet wondering the tree suddenly rolled a little dragged a little and then seemed to lie quiet and still She put out her hand and the current gurgled against it The tree was aground and by the position of the light and the noise of the surf aground upon the deadlow marsh Had it not been for her baby who was ailing and creepy Had it not been for the sudden drying up of that sensitive fountain She would have felt safe and relieved Perhaps it was this which tended to make all her impressions mournful and gloomy As the tide rapidly fell a great flock of black brunt fluttered by her screaming and crying Then the plover flew up and piped mournfully as they wheeled around the trunk and at last fearlessly lit upon it like a gray cloud Then the heron flew over and around her shrieking and protesting and at last dropped its gaunt legs only a few yards from her But strangest of all a pretty white bird larger than a dove Like a pelican but not a pelican circled around and around her At last it lit upon a rootlet of the tree quite over her shoulder She put out her hand and stroked its beautiful white neck and it never appeared to move It stayed there so long that she thought she would lift up the baby to see it And try to attract her attention But when she did so the child was so chilled and cold and had such a blue look under the little lashes Which it didn't raise at all that she screamed aloud and the bird flew away and she fainted Well, that was the worst of it and perhaps it was not so much after all to any but herself For when she recovered her senses it was bright sunlight and dead low water There was a confused noise of guttural voices about her and an old squaw Singing an indian hushabay and rocking herself from side to side before a fire built on the marsh Before which she the recovered wife and mother lay weak and weary Her first thought was for her baby and she was about to speak when a young squaw who must have been a mother herself Fathomed her thought and brought her the mo'itch pale but living in such a queer little willow cradle all bound up Just like the squaw zone young one that she laughed and cried together And the young squaw and the old squaw showed her their big white teeth and glinted their black eyes and said Plenty get well skina mo'itch wajiman come plenty soon And she could have kissed their brown faces in her joy And then she found that they had been gathering berries on the marsh in their queer Comical baskets and saw the skirt of her gown fluttering on the tree from afar And the old squaw couldn't resist the temptation of procuring a new garment and came down and discovered the wajibomen and child And of course she gave the garment to the old squaw as you may imagine And when he came at last and rushed up to her looking about 10 years older in his anxiety She felt so faint again that they had to carry her to the canoe Before you see he knew nothing about the flood until he had met the indians at utopia And knew by the signs that the poor woman was his wife And at the next high tide he towed the tree away back home Although it wasn't worth the trouble and built another house Using the old tree for the foundation and props and called it after her mary's ark But you may guess the next house was built above high watermark and that's all Not much perhaps considering the malevolent capacity of the dead low marsh But you must tramp over it at low water or paddle over it at high tide Or get lost upon it once or twice in the fog as I have to understand properly mary's adventure Or to appreciate duly the blessings of living beyond high watermark End of high watermark read by cebella dentin and carolton georgia in october 2007 A lonely ride in selected stories by bret hart This is a libravox recording all libravox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit libravox.org Selected stories by bret hart A lonely ride as I stepped into the slum galleon stage I saw that it was a dark night a lonely road and that I was the only passenger Let me assure the reader that I have no ulterior design in making this assertion A long course of light reading has forewarned me that every experienced intelligence must confidently look for from such a statement The storyteller who willfully tempts fate by such obvious beginnings Who is to the expectant reader in danger of being robbed or half murdered or frightened by an escaped lunatic Or introduced to his lady love for the first time deserves to be detected I'm relieved to say that none of these things occurred to me The road from wingdom to slum galleon knew no other banditty than the regularly licensed hotel keepers Lunatics had not yet reached such depth of imbecility as to ride of their own free will in california stages And my laura amiable and long suffering as she always is Could not I fear have borne up against these depressing circumstances long enough to have made the slightest impression on me I stood with my shawl and carpet bag in hand gazing doubtingly on the vehicle Even in the darkness the red dust of wingdom was visible on its roof and sides And the red slime of slum galleon clung tenaciously to its wheels I opened the door the stage creaked easily and in the gloomy abyss the swaying straps beckoned me Like ghostly hands to come in now and have my sufferance out at once I must not omit to mention the occurrence of a circumstance which struck me as appalling and mysterious A lounger on the steps of the hotel who I had reason to suppose was not in any way connected with the stage company Gravely descended and walking toward the conveyance tried the handle of the door Opened it expected rated in the carriage and returned to the hotel with a serious demeanor Hardly had he resumed his position when another individual equally disinterested Impassively walked down the steps proceeded to the back of the stage lifted it Expected rated carefully on the axle and returned slowly and pensively to the hotel A third spectator weirdly disengaged himself from one of the ionic columns of the portico and walked to the box Remained for a moment in serious and expectorative contemplation of the boot and then returned to his column There was something so weird in this baptism that I grew quite nervous Perhaps I was out of spirits A number of infinitesimal annoyances winding up with the resolute persistency of the clerk at the stage office to enter My name misspelled on the way bill had not predisposed me to cheerfulness The inmates of the eureka house from a social viewpoint were not attractive There was the prevailing opinion so common to many honest people That a serious style of deportment and conduct toward a stranger indicates high gentility and elevated station Obeying this principle all hilarity ceased on my entrance to supper And general remark merged into the safer and uncompromising chronicle of several bad cases of diphtheria Then epidemic at wingdom When I left the dining room with an odd feeling that I had been supping exclusively on mustard and tea leaves I stopped a moment at the parlor door A piano harmoniously related to the dinner bell tinkled responsive to a definite and uncertain touch On the white wall the shadow of an old and sharp profile was bending over several symmetrical and shadowy curls I says to mariar mariar says I praise to the face is open disgrace I heard no more Dreading some susceptibility to sincere expression on the subject of female loveliness I walked away checking the compliment that otherwise might have risen Unbidden to my lips and have brought shame and sorrow to the household It was with the memory of these experiences resting heavily upon me that I stood hesitatingly before the stage door The driver about to mount was for a moment illuminated by the open door of the hotel He had the wearied look which was the distinguishing expression of wingdom Satisfied that I was properly waybilled and receded for he took no further notice of me I looked longingly at the box seat, but he did not respond to the appeal I flung my carpet bag into the chasm, dived recklessly after it, and Before I was fairly seated with a great sigh a creaking of unwilling springs complaining bolts and harshly Exboslating axle we moved away Rather the hotel door slipped behind The sound of the piano sank to rest and the night and its shadows moved solemnly upon us To say it was dark expressed but faintly the pitchy obscurity that encompassed the vehicle The roadside trees were scarcely distinguishable as deeper masses of shadow I knew them only by the peculiar sodden odor that from time to time sluggishly flowed in at the open window as we rolled by We proceeded slowly So leisurely that leaning from the carriage I more than once detected the fragrant sigh of some astonished cow whose ruminating repose upon the highway We had ruthlessly disturbed But in the darkness our progress more the guidance of some mysterious instinct than any apparent volition of our own Gave an indefinable charm of security to our journey that a moment's hesitation or indecision on the part of the driver would have destroyed I had indulged a hope that in the empty vehicle I might obtain that rest so often denied me in its crowded condition It was a weak delusion When I stretched out my limbs it was only to find that the ordinary conveniences for making several people distinctly uncomfortable Were distributed throughout my individual frame At last resting my arms on the straps by dint of much gymnastic effort I became sufficiently composed to be aware of a more refined species of torture The springs of the stage rising and falling regularly produced a rhythmical beat which began to absorb my attention painfully Slowly this thumping merged into a senseless echo of the mysterious female of the hotel parlor and shaped itself into this awful and benumbing axiom Praise to the face is open disgrace Praise to the face is open disgrace Inequalities of the road only quickened its utterance or drawled it to an exasperating length It was of no use to consider the statement seriously It was of no use to accept to it indignantly It was of no use to recall the many instances where praise to the face had redounded to the everlasting honor of praise or and be praised Of no use to dwell sentimentally on modest genius and courage lifted up and strengthened by open commendation Of no use to accept to the mysterious female to picture her as rearing a thin blooded generation on selfish and mechanically repeated axioms All this failed to counteract the monotonous repetition of this sentence There was nothing to do but to give in And I was about to accept it weekly as we too often treat other illusions of darkness and necessity For the time being when I became aware of some other annoyance that had been forcing itself upon me for the last few minutes How quiet the driver was Was there any driver Had I any reason to suppose that he was not lying gagged and bound on the roadside And the highwayman with blackened face who did the thing so quietly driving me Wither The thing is perfectly feasible And what is this fancy now being jolted out of me a story? It's of no use to keep it back Particularly in this abysmal vehicle and here it comes I am a marquis a french marquis French because the peerage is not so well known and the country is better adapted to romantic incident A marquis because the democratic reader delights in the nobility My name is something ligny I'm coming from paris to my country seat in saint jama It is a dark night and I fall asleep and tell my honest coachman andre not to disturb me and dream of an angel The carriage at last stops at the chateau It is so dark that when I alight I do not recognize the face of the footman who holds the carriage door But one of that peste I am heavy with sleep The same obscurity also hides the old familiar indecencies of the statues on the terrace But there is a door and it opens and shuts behind me smartly Then I find myself in a trap in the presence of the brigand who has quietly gagged poor andre and conducted the carriage thither There is nothing for me to do as a gallant french marquis But to say parblues draw my rapier and die valorously I am found a week or two after outside a deserted cabaret near the barrier with a hole through my ruffled linen and my pocket stripped No on second thoughts. I am rescued rescued by the angel I have been dreaming of who is the assumed daughter of the brigand but the real daughter of an intimate friend Looking from the window again in the vain hope of distinguishing the driver I found my eyes were growing accustomed to the darkness I could see the distant horizon defined by the india inky woods relieving a lighter sky A few stars widely spaced in this picture glimmered sadly I noticed again the infinite depth of patient sorrow in their serene faces And I hope that the vandal who first applied the flippant twinkle to them may not be driven melancholy mad by their reproachful eyes I noticed again the mystic charm of the space that imparts a sense of individual solitude to each integer of the densest constellation involving the smallest star with immeasurable loneliness Something of this calm and solitude crept over me and I dozed in my gloomy cavern When I awoke the full moon was rising Seen from my window. It had an indescribably unreal and theatrical effect It was the full moon of norma that remarkable celestial phenomenon which rises so palpably to a hushed audience And a sublime on dante course until the casta diva is sung The inconstant moon that then and thereafter remains fixed in the heavens as though it were a part of the solar system inaugurated by joshua Again the white robe druids filed past me again I saw that improbable mistletoe cut from that impossible oak And again cold chills ran down my back with the first strain of the recitative The thumping springs assayed to beat time and the private box-like obscurity of the vehicle lent a cheap enchantment to the view But it was a vast improvement upon my past experience and I hugged the fond delusion My fears for the driver were dissipated with the rising moon A familiar sound had assured me of his presence in the full possession of at least one of his most important functions Frequent and full expectation convinced me that his lips were as yet not sealed by the gag of the highwaymen And soothed my anxious ear With this load lifted from my mind and assisted by the mild presence of diana who left as when she visited endymion Much of her splendor outside my cavern I looked around the empty vehicle On the forward seat lay a woman's hairpin I picked it up with an interest that however soon abated There was no scent of the roses to cling to it still not even of hair oil No bend or twist in its rigid angles betrayed any trait of its wearer's character I tried to think that it might have been mariars I tried to imagine that confining the symmetrical curls of that girl It might have heard the soft compliments whispered in her ears which provoked the wrath of the aged female But in vain It was reticent and unswerving in its upright fidelity And at last slipped listlessly through my fingers I had dosed repeatedly Waked on the threshold of oblivion by contact with some of the angles of the coach And feeling that I was unconsciously assuming an imitation of a humble insect of my childish recollection That spherical shape which could best resist those impressions When I perceived that the moon Riding high in the heavens had begun to separate the formless masses of the shadowy landscape Trees isolated in clumps and assemblages changed places before my window The sharp outlines of the distant hills came back as in daylight But little softened in the dry cold doolus air of a california summer night I was wondering how late it was and thinking that if the horses of the night traveled as slowly as the team Before us Faustus might have been spared his agonizing prayer when a sudden spasm of activity attacked my driver A succession of whip snappings like a pack of chinese crackers broke from the box before me The stage leaped forward and when I could pick myself from under the seat A long white building had in some mysterious way rolled before my window It must be slum galleon As I descended from the stage I addressed the driver I thought you changed horses on the road So we did two hours ago That's odd. I didn't notice it Must have been asleep sir. Hope you had a pleasant nap Bully place for a nice quiet snooze Empty stage sir End of a lonely ride The man of no account In selected stories by bread heart This is a Libra box recording All Libra box recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libra locks dot org Recording by Heidi one stone Selected stories by bread heart The man of no account His name was fag David fag He came to california in 52 with us in the skyscraper I don't think he did it in an adventurous way He probably had no other place to go to What a non of us young fellows would recite what splendid opportunities we'd resigned to go And how sorry our friends were to have us leave And showed the girl types and locks of hair and talk of mary and susan The man of no account Used to sit by and listen With a pained mortified expression on his plain face and say nothing I think he had nothing to say He had no associates except when we patronized him And in point of fact, he was a good deal of sport to us He was always seasick whenever we had a cap full of wind He never got his sea legs on either And I shall never forget how we all laughed when rattler took him a piece of pork on a string and But you know that time honored joke And then we had such a splendid lark with him This fanny twinkler couldn't bear the sight of him And we used to make fag think that she had taken a fancy to him And sent him little delicacies and books from the cabin You ought to have witnessed the rich scene that took place when he came up Stammering and very sick to thank her Didn't she flash up grandly and beautifully and scornfully So like madora rattler said rattler knew iron by heart And wasn't old fag awfully cut up But he got over it And when rattler fell sick at vel party so Old fag used to nurse him You see He was a good sort of fellow But he lacked manliness and spirit He had absolutely no idea of poetry I've seen him sit stowedly by Mending his old clothes when rattler delivered that stirring apostrophe of byron's to the ocean He asked rattler once quite seriously if he thought byron was ever seasick I don't remember rattler's reply But I know we all laughed very much And I have no doubt it was something good for rattler was smart When the skyscraper arrived at san francisco, we had a grand feed We agreed to meet every year and perpetuate the occasion Of course, we didn't invite fag Fag was a steerage passenger and it was necessary. You see now we were sure To exercise a little discretion But old fag as we called him He was only about 25 years old by the way Was the source of immense amusement to us that day It appeared that he had conceived the idea that he could walk to sacramento And actually started off afoot We had a good time and shook hands with one another all around and so parted Ah mean Only eight years ago and yet some of those hands then class in amity have been clenched at each other Or have dipped fervently in one another's pockets I know that we didn't dine together the next year Because young barker swore he wouldn't put his feet under the same mahogany With such a very contemptible scoundrel as that mixer and nibbles Who borrowed money and ball paraiso Of young stubs who was then a waiter in a restaurant Didn't like to meet such people When I bought a number of shares in the coyote tunnel at mugginsville in 54 I thought i'd take a run up there and see it I stopped at the empire hotel and after dinner I got a horse and row ground the town And out to the claim One of those individuals whom newspaper correspondents call our intelligent informant And to whom in all small communities the right of answering questions Is tacitly yielded Was quietly pointed out to me Habit enabled him to work and talk at the same time And he never got pre-terminted either He gave me a history of the claim and added You see stranger He addressed the bank before him Gold is sure to come out of that there claim He put in a comma with his pick But the old pro-priator He wriggled out the word and the point of his pick Weren't of much account A long stroke of the pig for a period He was green and let the boys about here jump him And the rest of his sentence was confided to his hat Which he had removed to wipe his manly brow with his red bandana I asked him who was the original proprietor His name more fag I went to see him He looked a little older and planer He had worked hard. He said And was getting on so so I took quite a liking to him and patronized him to some extent Whether I did so because I was beginning to have a distrust for such fellows as rattler And mixer is not necessary for me to state You remember how coyote tunnel went in and how awfully we shareholders were done Well, the next thing I heard was that rattler Who is one of the heaviest shareholders Was up at mugginsville keeping bar for the proprietor of mugginsville hotel And that old fag had struck it rich And didn't know what to do with his money All this was told me by mixer Who had been there Settling up matters and likewise that fag was sweet upon the daughter of the proprietor Of the aforesaid hotel And so by hearsay and letter I eventually gathered that old robins The hotel man was trying to get up a match between nely robins and fag Nely was a pretty plump and foolish little thing And would do just as her father wished I thought it would be a good thing for fag if he should marry and settle down That as a married man he might be of some account So I ran up to mugginsville one day to look after things It did me an immense deal of good to make rattler mix my drinks for me Rattler the gay brilliant and unconquerable rattler Who had tried to snub me two years ago I talked to him about old fag and nely Particularly as I thought the subject was distasteful He never liked fag and he was sure he said that nely didn't Didn't nely like anybody else He turned around to the mirror behind the bar and brushed up his hair I understood the conceited wretch I thought I'd put fag on his guard and get him to hurry up matters I had a long talk with him You could see by the way the poor fellow acted That he was badly stuck He sighed and promised to pluck up courage to hurry matters to a crisis Nely was a good girl and I think had a sort of quiet respect for old fags unobtrusiveness But her fancy was already taken captive by rattler's superficial qualities Which were obvious and pleasing I don't think nely was any worse than you or I We are more apt to take acquaintances at their apparent value than their intrinsic worth It's less trouble and except when we want to trust them quite as convenient The difficulty with women is that their feelings are apt to get interested sooner than ours And then you know reasoning is out of the question This is what old fag would have known had he been of any account But he wasn't So much for the worse for him It was a few months afterward and I was sitting in my office when in walked old fag I was surprised to see him down But we talked over the current topics in the mechanical manner of people who know that they have Something else to say but are obliged to get at it in that formal way After an interval fag in his natural manner said I'm going home Going home Yes, that is I think I'll take a trip to the Atlantic states I came to see you as you know, I have some little property And I have executed a power of attorney for you to manage my affairs I have some papers. I'd like to leave with you Will you take charge of them? Yes, I said But what of nely His face fell He tried to smile And the combination resulted in one of the most startling and grotesque effects I ever beheld At length he said I shall not marry nely That is He seemed to apologize internally for the positive form of expression I think that I had better not David fag I said with some severity You're of no account To my astonishment his face brightened Yes, he said That's it I'm of no account But I always knew it You see I thought rattler loved that girl as well as I did And I knew she liked him better than she did me And would be happier I daresay with him But then I knew that old robins would have preferred me to him as I was better off And the girl would do as he said And you see I thought I was kinder in a way And so I left But he continued As I was about to interrupt him For fear the old man might object to rattler I've lent him enough to set him up in business For himself in dog town A pushing active brilliant fellow, you know Like rattler can get along And will soon be in his old position again And you'd need to be hard on him, you know If he doesn't Goodbye I was too much disgusted with his treatment of that rattler to be at all amiable But as his business was profitable I promised to attend to it and he left A few weeks passed The return steamer arrived And a terrible incident occupied the papers for days afterward People in all parts of the state Connegrally the details of the awful shipwreck And those who had friends aboard went away by themselves And read the long list of the lost under their breath I read of the gifted, the gallant, the noble And loved ones who had perished And among them I think I was the first to read the name of David Fag For the man of no account had gone home End of The Man of No Account Recording by Heidi One Stone