Gordon Young

“ In the dark? Takes a good man to make day-time job of it!"
"I mus' go, señors. Night or day, it is the same to the good God."
"Yeah. But not to a fool man. You've gotta play. We'll give you that there fiddle if you play."
"An' when I have played, señors—the trail, some man of you will show me?"
"A man that come from Diamon' crost that river, now wants to go to Simpson's, night time on that trail—Gosh, stranger, you must be crazy!"
"Yees, señors," said Ferdinand enigmatically. "When He drives man mus' go!"
"Crazy as a bedbug," said the miners, one to another. But play that fiddle he must. ”

“ Ferdinand knew that the fellow spoke with hand on gun; but he came forward, stamping heavily, shaking the water from him, answering:
"A fiddler-man that goes from camp to camp. I have leetle to eat, señor. But candles—I have the candles!"
With an air of bustling good cheer, Ferdinand looked about for a place to put down his fiddle case. There just within the door lay something. His foot struck it—a saddle. He pulled a candle from his pocket and, with a flourish of carelessness—"all day I walk los' in the rain, señor"—drew near the fireplace and thrust the candle's tip against the fire. ”

“ Ferdinand looked thoughtfully up and down the bank, then slowly climbed into the saddle and leaned forward, patting the neck of the mule. The mule, with ears stretched forward and head lowered, sniffed uneasily. Ferdinand spoke encouragingly and struck with his heels. The mule nervously advanced a slim foot, took another step, then drew back on its haunches.
"He won't go," said a miner.
"That thar jackass has got some sense. Most jackasses has if they ain't human." ”

“ Is there a mule? I have gol'."
"Nary mule or hoss in camp. You're after that gambler feller, ain't yuh? What's he done?"
"Oh, señor!" said Ferdinand, mildly reproachful, and drawing out a well-filled pouch. "I owe to him a leetle debt. An' an hones' man he can not res' or sleep till his debt is paid!"
Silence followed this remark; then a miner spoke:
"Yo're right, pardner. It ain't none o' our business. Ever' man looks out for hisself in Californy. But I tell you this much. That there gambler acts like he was expectin' somebody along after him." ”

“ A drunken man in a far corner, heavily leaning on a table, shifted his chair to rise, but the exertion did not seem worth the advantage of drawing near, so he held his head up for a moment, peering vacantly, then let it fall.
"You didn't come from Diamon'. Not today you didn't," said a miner. "I was down 'bout an hour ago. Had a look at the river. Last man that come through from Diamon' was that gambler feller——"
"Ah, you speak of Señor Cleefton?" ”

“ Yuh can't get crost. No man c'd get crost!"
"I go, señor!"
"She's shore deep an' swift. Yuh're a fool," said another voice.
"For Mr. Cleefton I have a message. He will be at Heekery Bar?"
"Yeah. But a drowned man like you'll be can't deliver much of a message."
"I do not drown, señors. No. I mus' go, now."
"Yuh don't look an idjit, but yuh are. We'll all go down an' watch yuh get drown'."
Ferdinand dismounted and led his mule. The miners with stumbling tramp walked along near him, thinking that when he saw the river he would turn back. ”

“ The only hotel in Simpson's Bar which, in its decadence supported now no other place for gambling or drinking, was a one-story structure, built of unhewn saplings, covered with canvas and floored with dirt. It consisted of one undivided room in which the tables, bunks and benches were all ar ranged. There men slept and ate and drank. ”

“ Ferdinand touched it with a lingering gentleness though his thoughts were far away.
"You play that thing? Most greasers do."
"A leetle, señors, at times. Ah, Mr. Cleefton, he is here?"
"Now listen, stranger. You didn't come from Diamon'. You come from Simpson's Bar—over the mountain. She's as near hard as crossin' the river,'cept it can be done. An' if you know that gambler by sight, like you say, you met him on the trail. He pulled out this mornin'. Some o' the boys bet even money he couldn't make it. ”

“ You play us a piece instead. That's what us boys want. We're hankerin' f'r music."
"I mus' go, señors!" said Ferdinand, again indicating the pouch.
"Yeah, but yuh've got to play a little something first," said one, and others with a kind of feverishness added their voices to the demand.
Ferdinand, realizing that the quickest way to obtain his departure was to do as requested, unwrapped the case, took out the fiddle, took a string from the case pocket and was busy when the half drunken Abs, roused by the interest the miners were showing in this fellow, came forward with lurching steps. ”