Tracks Of A Rolling Stone, Henry J. Coke [kiss me liar novel english txt] 📗

The Wrecks Of The Trestle. 

Its Joints Had Given Way Under The Extra Weight,  And Fred's

First Impulse Had Been To Clutch At My Throat.

 

On The Way Back To San Francisco We Stayed For A Couple Of

Nights At Sacramento.  It Was A Miserable Place,  With Nothing

But A Few Temporary Buildings Except Those Of The Spanish

Settlers.  In The Course Of A Walk Round The Town I Noticed A

Crowd Collected Under A Large Elm-Tree In The Horse-Market. 

On Inquiry I Was Informed That A Man Had Been Lynched On One

Of Its Boughs The Night Before Last.  A Piece Of The Rope Was

Still Hanging From The Tree.  When I Got Back To The 'Hotel'

- A Place Not Much Better Than The Shed At Yuba Forks - I

Found A Newspaper With An Account Of The Affair.  Drawing A

Chair Up To The Stove,  I Was Deep In The Story,  When A Huge

Rowdy-Looking Fellow In Digger-Costume Interrupted Me With:

 

'Say,  Stranger,  Let's Have A Look At That Paper,  Will Ye?'

 

'When I've Done With It,' Said I,  And Continued Reading.  He

Lent Over The Back Of My Chair,  Put One Hand On My Shoulder, 

And With The Other Raised The Paper So That He Could Read.

 

'Caint See Rightly.  Ah,  Reckon You're Readen 'Baout Jim,  

Chapter 31 Pg 168

Ain't Yer?'

 

'Who's Jim?'

 

'Him As They Sus-Spended Yesterday Mornin'.  Jim Was A

Purticler Friend O' Mine,  And I Help'd To Hang Him.'

 

'A Friendly Act!  What Was He Hanged For?'

 

'When Did You Come To Sacramenty City?'

 

'Day Before Yesterday.'

 

'Wal,  I'll Tell Yer Haow't Was Then.  Yer See,  Jim Was A

Britisher,  He Come From A Place They Call Botany Bay,  Which

Belongs To Victoria,  But Ain't 'Xactly In The Old Country.  I

Judge,  When He First Come To Californy,  'Baout Six Months

Back,  He Warn't Acquainted None With Any Boys Hereaway,  So He

Took To Diggin' By Hisself.  It Was Up To Cigar Bar Whar He

Dug,  And I Chanst To Be Around There Too,  That's Haow We Got

To Know One Another.  Jim Hadn't Been Here Not A Fortnight

'Fore One Of The Boys Lost 300 Dollars As He'd Made A Cache

Of.  Somehow Suspicions Fell On Jim.  More'n One Of Us

Thought He'd Been A Diggin' For Bags Instead Of For Dust; And

The Man As Lost The Money Swore He'd Hev A Turn With Him; So

Jim Took My Advice Not To Go Foolin' Around,  An' Sloped.'

 

'Well,' Said I,  As My Friend Stopped To Adjust His Tobacco

Plug,  'He Wasn't Hanged For That?'

 

''Tain't Likely!  Till Last Week Nobody Know'd Whar He'd Gone

To.  When He Come To Sacramenty This Time,  He Come With A

Pile,  An' No Mistake.  All Day And All Night He Used To Play

At Faro An' A Heap O' Other Games.  Nobody Couldn't Tell How

He Made His Money Hold Out,  Nor Whar He Got It From; But

Sartin Sure The Crowd Reckoned As Haow Jim Was Considerable

Of A Loafer.  One Day A Blacksmith As Lives Up Broad Street, 

Said He Found Out The Way He Done It,  And Ast Me To Come With

Him And Show Up Jim For Cheatin'.  Naow,  Whether It Was As

Jim Suspicioned The Blacksmith I Cain't Say,  But He Didn't

Cheat,  And Lost His Money In Consequence.  This Riled Him

Bad,  So Wantin' To Get Quit Of The Blacksmith He Began A

Quarrel.  The Blacksmith Was A Quick-Tempered Man,  And After

Some Language Struck Jim In The Mouth.  Jim Jumps Up,  And

Whippin' Out His Revolver,  Shoots The T'other Man Dead On The

Spot.  I Was The First To Lay Hold On Him,  But Ef It Hadn't

'A' Been For Me They'd 'A' Torn Him To Pieces.

 

'"Send For Judge Parker," Says Some.

 

'"Let's Try Him Here," Says Others.

 

'"I Don't Want To Be Tried At All," Says Jim.  "You All Know

Bloody Well As I Shot The Man.  And I Knows Bloody Well As 

Chapter 31 Pg 169

I'll Hev To Swing For It.  Gi' Me Till Daylight,  And I'll Die

Like A Man."

 

'But We Wasn't Going To Hang Him Without A Proper Trial; And

As The Trial Lasted Two Hours,  It - '

 

'Two Hours!  What Did You Want Two Hours For?'

 

'There Was Some As Wanted To Lynch Him,  And Some As Wanted

Him Tried By The Reg'lar Judges Of The Crim'nal Court.  One

Of The Best Speakers Said Lynch-Law Was No Law At All,  And No

Innocent Man's Life Was Safe With It.  So There Was A Lot Of

Speakin',  You Bet.  By The Time It Was Over It Was Just

Daylight,  And The Majority Voted As He Should Die At Onc't. 

So They Took Him To The Horse-Market,  And Stood Him On A

Table Under The Big Elm.  I Kep' By His Side,  And When He Was

Getting On The Table He Ast Me To Lend Him My Revolver To

Shoot The Foreman Of The Jury.  When I Wouldn't,  He Ast Me To

Tie The Knot So As It Wouldn't Slip.  "It Ain't No Account, 

Jim," Says I,  "To Talk Like That.  You're Bound To Die; And

Ef They Didn't Hang Yer I'd Shoot Yer Myself."

 

'"Well Then," Says He,  "Gi' Me Hold Of The Rope,  And I'll

Show You How Little I Keer For Death."  He Snatches The Cord

Out O' My Hands,  Pulls Hisself Out O' Reach O' The Crowd,  And

Sat Cross-Legged On The Bough.  Half A Dozen Shooters Was

Raised To Fetch Him Down,  But He Tied A Noose In The Rope, 

Put It Round His Neck,  Slipped It Puty Tight,  And Stood Up On

The Bough And Made 'Em A Speech.  What He Mostly Said Was As

He Hated 'Em All.  He Cussed The Man He Shot,  Then He Cussed

The World,  Then He Cussed Hisself,  And With A Terr'ble Oath

He Jumped Off The Bough,  And Swung Back'ards And For'ards

With His Neck Broke.'

 

'An Englishman,' I Reflected Aloud.

 

He Nodded.  'You're A Britisher,  I Reckon,  Ain't Yer?'

 

'Yes; Why?'

 

'Wal,  You've A Puty Strong Accent.'

 

'Think So?'

 

'Wal,  I Could Jest Tie A Knot In It.'

 

This Is A Vulgar And Repulsive Story.  But It Is Not Fiction;

And Any Picture Of Californian Life In 1850,  Without Some

Such Faithful Touch Of Its Local Colour,  Would Be Inadequate

And Misleading.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 32 Pg 170

 

 

 

A Steamer Took Us Down To Acapulco.  It Is Probably A

Thriving Port Now.  When We Were There,  A Few Native Huts And

Two Or Three Stone Buildings At The Edge Of The Jungle

Constituted The 'Town.'  We Bought Some Horses,  And Hired Two

Men - A Mexican And A Yankee - For Our Ride To The City Of

Mexico.  There Was At That Time Nothing But A Mule-Track,  And

No Public Conveyance Of Any Kind.  Nothing Could Exceed The

Beauty Of The Scenery.  Within 160 Miles,  As The Crow Flies, 

One Rises Up To The City Of Mexico Some 12,000 Feet,  With

Popocatepetl Overhanging It 17,500 Feet High.  In This Short

Space One Passes From Intense Tropical Heat And Vegetation To

Pines And Laurels And The Proximity Of Perpetual Snows.  The

Path In Places Winds Along The Brink Of Precipitous

Declivities,  From The Top Of Which One Sees The Climatic

Gradations Blending One Into Another.  So Narrow Are Some Of

The Mountain Paths That A Mule Laden With Ore Has Often One

Panier Overhanging The Valley A Thousand Feet Below It. 

Constantly In The Long Trains Of Animals Descending To The

Coast,  A Slip Of The Foot Or A Charge From Behind,  For They

All Come Down The Steep Track With A Jolting Shuffle,  Sends

Mule And Its Load Over The Ledge.  We Found It Very Difficult

In Places To Get Out Of The Way In Time To Let The Trains

Pass.  Flocks Of Parrots And Great Macaws Screeching And

Flying About Added To The Novelty Of The Scene.

 

The Villages,  Inhabited By A Cross Between The Original

Indians And The Spaniards,  Are About Twenty Miles Apart.  At

One Of These We Always Stayed For The Night,  Sleeping In

Grass Hammocks Suspended Between The Posts Of The Verandah. 

The Only Travellers We Fell In With Were A Party Of Four

Americans,  Returning To The Eastern States From California

With The Gold They Had Won There.  They Had Come In Our

Steamer To Acapulco,  And Had Left It A Few Hours Before We

Did.  As The Villages Were So Far Apart We Necessarily Had To

Stop At Night In The Same One.  The Second Time This Happened

They,  Having Arrived First,  Had Quartered Themselves On The

Alcalde Or Principal Personage Of The Place.  Our Guide Took

Us To The Same House; And Although His Worship,  Who Had A

Better Supply Of Maize For The Horses,  And A Few More

Chickens To Sell Than The Other Natives,  Was Anxious To

Accommodate Us,  The Four Americans,  A Very Rough-Looking Lot

And Armed To The Teeth,  Wouldn't Hear Of It,  But Peremptorily

Bade Us Put Up Elsewhere.  Our Own American,  Who Was Much

Afraid Of Them,  Obeyed Their Commands Without More Ado.  It

Made Not The Slightest Difference To Us,  For One Grass 

Chapter 32 Pg 171

Hammock Is As Soft As Another,  And The Alcalde's Chickens

Were As Tough As Ours.

 

Before The Morning Start,  Two Of The Diggers,  Rifles In Hand, 

Came Over To Us And Plainly Told Us They Objected To Our

Company.  Fred,  With Perfect Good Humour,  Assured Them We Had

No Thought Of Robbing Them,  And That As The Villages Were So

Far Apart We Had No Choice In The Matter.  However,  As They

Wished To Travel Separate From Us,  If There Should Be Two

Villages At All Within Suitable Distances,  They Could Stop At

One And We At The Other.  There The Matter Rested.  But Our

Guide Was More Frightened Than Ever.  They Were Four To Two, 

He