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TALES OF THE ARGONAUTS
TALES OF THE ARGONAUTS BRET HARTE CONTENTS
THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE
A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST
WAN LEE THE PAGAN
HOW OLD MAN PLUNKETT WENT HOME
THE FOOL OF FIVE FORKS
BABY SYLVESTER
AN EPISODE OF FIDDLETOWN
A JERSEY CENTENARIAN
THE ROSE OF TUOLUMNE
CHAPTER I
It was nearly two o'clock in the morning. The lights were out in
Robinson's Hall where there had been dancing and revelry; and the
moon riding high painted the black windows with silver. The
cavalcade that an hour ago had shocked the sedate pines with song
and laughter were all dispersed. One enamoured swain had ridden
east another west another north another south; and the object of
their adoration left within her bower at Chemisal Ridge was
calmly going to bed.
I regret that I am not able to indicate the exact stage of that
process. Two chairs were already filled with delicate inwrappings
and white confusion; and the young lady herself half-hidden in the
silky threads of her yellow hair had at one time borne a faint
resemblance to a partly-husked ear of Indian corn. But she was now
clothed in that one long formless garment that makes all women
equal; and the round shoulders and neat waist that an hour ago had
been so fatal to the peace of mind of Four Forks had utterly
disappeared. The face above it was very pretty: the foot below
albeit shapely was not small. "The flowers as a general thing
don't raise their heads MUCH to look after me" she had said with
superb frankness to one of her lovers.
The expression of the "Rose" to-night was contentedly placid. She
walked slowly to the window and making the smallest possible
peephole through the curtain looked out. The motionless figure of
a horseman still lingered on the road with an excess of devotion
that only a coquette or a woman very much in love could tolerate.
The "Rose" at that moment was neither and after a reasonable
pause turned away saying quite audibly that it was "too
ridiculous for any thing." As she came back to her dressing-table
it was noticeable that she walked steadily and erect without that
slight affectation of lameness common to people with whom bare feet
are only an episode. Indeed it was only four years ago that
without shoes or stockings a long-limbed colty girl in a
waistless calico gown she had leaped from the tailboard of her
father's emigrant-wagon when it first drew up at Chemisal Ridge.
Certain wild habits of the "Rose" had outlived transplanting and
cultivation.
A knock at the door surprised her. In another moment she had
leaped into bed and with darkly-frowning eyes from its secure
recesses demanded "Who's there?"
An apologetic murmur on the other side of the door was the response.
"Why father!--is that you?"
There were further murmurs affirmative deprecatory and
persistent.
"Wait" said the "Rose." She got up unlocked the door leaped
nimbly into bed again and said "Come."
The door opened timidly. The broad stooping shoulders and
grizzled head of a man past the middle age appeared: after a
moment's hesitation a pair of large diffident feet shod with
canvas slippers concluded to follow. When the apparition was
complete it closed the door softly and stood there--a very shy
ghost indeed--with apparently more than the usual spiritual
indisposition to begin a conversation. The "Rose" resented this
impatiently though I fear not altogether intelligibly.
"Do father I declare!"
"You was abed Jinny" said Mr. McClosky slowly glancing with a
singular mixture of masculine awe and paternal pride upon the two
chairs and their contents--"you was abed and ondressed."
"I was."
"Surely" said Mr. McClosky seating himself on the extreme edge of
the bed and painfully tucking his feet away under it--"surely."
After a pause he rubbed a short thick stumpy beard that bore a
general resemblance to a badly-worn blacking-brush with the palm
of his hand and went on "You had a good time Jinny?"
"Yes father."
"They was all there?"
"Yes Rance and York and Ryder and Jack."
"And Jack!" Mr. McClosky endeavored to throw an expression of arch
inquiry into his small tremulous eyes; but meeting the unabashed
widely-opened lid of his daughter he winked rapidly and blushed
to the roots of his hair.
"Yes Jack was there" said Jenny without change of color or the
least self-consciousness in her great gray eyes; "and he came home
with me." She paused a moment locking her two hands under her
head and assuming a more comfortable position on the pillow. "He
asked me that same question again father and I said 'Yes.' It's
to be--soon. We're going to live at Four Forks in his own house;
and next winter we're going to Sacramento. I suppose it's all
right father eh?" She emphasized the question with a slight kick
through the bed-clothes as the parental McClosky had fallen into
an abstract revery.
"Yes surely" said Mr. McClosky recovering himself with some
confusion. After a pause he looked down at the bed-clothes and
patting them tenderly continued "You couldn't have done better
Jinny. They isn't a girl in Tuolumne ez could strike it ez rich as
you hev--even if they got the chance." He paused again and then
said "Jinny?"
"Yes father."
"You'se in bed and ondressed?"
"Yes."
"You couldn't" said Mr. McClosky glancing hopelessly at the two
chairs and slowly rubbing his chin--"you couldn't dress yourself
again could yer?"
"Why father!"
"Kinder get yourself into them things again?" he added hastily.
"Not all of 'em you know but some of 'em. Not if I helped you--
sorter stood by and lent a hand now and then with a strap or a
buckle or a necktie or a shoestring?" he continued still looking
at the chairs and evidently trying to boldly familiarize himself
with their contents.
"Are you crazy father?" demanded Jenny suddenly sitting up with a
portentous switch of her yellow mane. Mr. McClosky rubbed one side
of his beard which already had the appearance of having been quite
worn away by that process and faintly dodged the question.
"Jinny" he said tenderly stroking the bedclothes as he spoke
"this yer's what's the matter. Thar is a stranger down stairs--a
stranger to you lovey but a man ez I've knowed a long time. He's
been here about an hour; and he'll be here ontil fower o'clock
when the up-stage passes. Now I wants ye Jinny dear to get up
and come down stairs and kinder help me pass the time with him.
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