A Waif of the Mountains, Edward Sylvester Ellis [reading a book .txt] 📗

laws of hospitality. Budge Isham looked significantly at the landlord, but he had already drawn a glass of spirits and was coming from behind the bar with it.

"Stranger, swallow this; you look cold; you're welcome to the Heavenly Bower, whether you come through the roof or down the chimbley."

"Thank you; I'll take the whiskey in a minute."

And then feeling that he owed those who made him so welcome some explanation of his coming among them, the stranger said:

"My friends, my name is Maurice Dawson. About two months ago, I left Independence, Missouri, with an emigrant train for the Pacific coast. The elements, disease and the Indians made such inroads upon us that after a time only half a dozen families remained. As if that wasn't enough, the few survivors quarreled over the course to follow, most of them aiming for a pass through the mountains into Southern California, while I, the greatest fool of them all, set out to find Dead Man's Gulch, of which I had heard from a party of trappers. My canvas covered wagon, with a single span of horses, contained all my worldly goods, and my companions were my wife and little girl Nellie, only three years old. Everything might have gone well but for this blizzard, which jumbled up the points of the compass and made traveling so difficult that after a time it became impossible."

All were listening with the closest interest, and every heart was touched by the emotion of the man, which he could not control for several minutes. No one interrupted, and, feeling that his story was not quite completed, he added:

"I fired my gun in the hope of attracting attention, but fortunately for others I was the only one abroad. By and by the horses stopped. They could draw the wagon no further. They stood panting and exhausted and soon lay down in the snow. I turned to speak to my wife, when I found she had been dead for some minutes, the cold carrying her off as quietly as if she were dropping asleep. Before she passed away, she wrapped nearly all her clothing about Nellie, who was cuddling beside her, so that really the mother, like the noble woman she was, gave her life for the little one. It was because Nellie was alive, that I jumped out of the wagon and began floundering through the snow. I ploughed blindly forward until providence guided me to you."

While uttering the last words, Maurice Dawson was tenderly unwrapping the bundle in his arms. There were many folds to draw away, but at last he reached the treasure within, which was his Nellie, still sound asleep. If the miners were startled by the resounding thump on the roof, they were now almost struck dumb with amazement. They sat with open mouths, staring eyes and for a minute no one spoke or stirred.

"God bless you, my Nellie," murmured the father, bending his head and touching his lips to the cool forehead; "I had no hope of this when I left your dead mother and started on my tramp through the snow."

A general sigh went up from the group of awed miners. Wade Ruggles, who had been leaning on the bar, with his gaze fixed on that of the handsome stranger, was the first to recover from the spell which held them all. Tiptoeing across the room, he paused in front of the father and his child and stared, wondering and speechless. Then one by one the others did the same, until the whole company were grouped around the man and child, each afraid to whisper, as if doing so would dissolve the heavenly vision.

When the wrappings had been laid aside, and the little one was placed upright, she stared bewildered into the shaggy faces around her. Her big blue eyes were open to their widest extent, the mass of golden curls rippled about her shoulders and the fairy-like feet were inclosed in thick, warm shoes and stockings. The dress of a dull brown color and thick texture, fitted her tiny frame perfectly and she formed a most winsome picture of infantile beauty.

For fully five minutes all stared in silence at the marvelous picture. As before, Wade Ruggles was the first to come to himself, but when he spoke, it was in an awed, hesitating whisper:

"Is she really alive?"

The sorrowful face of the father lit up with a faint smile as he answered:

"Yes; thank heaven; alive and well."

"May I touch her?" timidly asked Ike Hoe, extending his finger which faintly brushed the rosy cheek, and was instantly snatched away as if he felt he had done a sacrilegious thing.

"I say," ventured Ruggles gathering courage, "I wonder now if she would let me take her in my arms for a minute or so; I won't drop her; but that's too much to ask, howsumever."

While he stood hopeful, hesitating and doubtful, Nellie with a half frightened smile, dived her head under the arm of her father, as if to get away from the embarrassing situation. He gently fondled the golden hair and drew her face into view again.

"There, little one, there's nothing to be frightened at; these people are all your friends and will do anything they can to please you."

"You're right!" exclaimed Landlord Ortigies, with a shake of his head; "we'll do anything in the world for you; if you say the word, I'll stand on my head or stand any one else here the same way."

And he showed an alarming inclination to invert himself for the amusement of the child, but she did not seem to grasp the meaning of the offer. She fixed her eyes upon Ruggles, who made bold by what seemed a favorable sign, took a step forward and invitingly extended his hands. She debated for a moment, whether to meet the proffer and then with the impulsiveness of infancy leaned toward him. With a thrill of pleasure the grizzled miner carefully placed his huge arms underneath hers, and lifted her as if she were a doll from her father's knee. As he did so, every one saw the big tears trickling down his cheeks. "I can't help it, boys," he said apologetically; "the last child I held in these arms was my own Jennie, and she was dead."

With infinite affection, he pressed his bearded lips against the chubby cheek, while she, relieved of all fear, flung her dimpled arms about his neck and kissed him in return. With one hand, she lifted the flapping hat from his head and with the other smoothed away the luxuriant hair from his forehead.

"I like you ever so much, but you are crying," she said sympathetically; "what makes you do that? Haven't you got a little girl like me?"

"No, my precious child; I once had just such a sweet tot as you, but the good Lord took her from me, and I love you just as I loved her."

"And that's what we all are going to do," remarked Ike Hoe, with a sniff as he drew his sleeve across his eyes; "this beats anything in the history of New Constantinople, by seven hundred and eighty-four thousand majority."

"Come, Wade, you must be fair with us," said the landlord, reaching out his arms; "we all claim an equal share in her."

The miner felt the truth of this, and without a word relinquished the treasure. Drawing his handkerchief, he wiped his eyes clear of their mist and jealously followed the surrendered one as she was fondled in turn by the others. First one and then another, until she had completed the round. All had something pleasant to say to her and she replied in her sweet innocent way, causing laughter and winning her path straight to the hearts of the hardy fellows, to whom such endearments had been unknown for years, but whose better natures were stirred by the presence of the child, as if she were in reality an angel sent from heaven.

Felix Brush had purposely left his turn for the last, hoping thereby to retain her longer than his friends. After chatting with her for a moment and repeating some rigmarole that set her laughing, followed by the request for him to say it again, he stood her on the bar. Then he danced in front of her, swung his arms like a jumping-jack, and told some outlandish fairy story from the stock that no one had ever suspected he possessed.

"Can you stand on your head?" asked Nellie, rippling over with fun.

"Certainly," he replied, as without a moment's hesitation, he inverted himself and cracked his heels together, though the attitude was such an unfamiliar one that he careened and went over on his back with a thump that made the room tremble. Nellie clapped her chubby hands with delight and before Brush could repeat the performance, she called:

"Catch me; I'm going to jump."

"All right; I'm ready for you."

She recoiled a step to gather momentum and Landlord Ortigies, terrified at the fear that she might step off backward, made a dive round the end of the bar, catching his foot in an obstruction and falling with a crash that drew all attention to him.

"I'm so sorry; be you hurt?" asked Nellie, turning her head and surveying him, as his face came up to view like the full moon rising above the horizon.

"Not a bit; I done that on purpose to make you laugh; I always do that to please good little girls like you."

"Bime by I'll let you fall all the time, but just see me jump."

Felix Brush was still standing, with arms outstretched, and, without a second's hesitation the child leaped off into space. She showed no fright, for there was no cause for it, since she was caught fairly and securely. Inasmuch as she had been fondled by every one, and the parson had had her longer than anyone else, he set her down on the floor and she began running here and there, displaying a childish curiosity to understand everything in sight. Going to the half-opened door, communicating with the darkened apartment at the rear, she peeped timidly in.

"Who lives in dere?" she asked, turning around and addressing the whole group who were laughingly watching her.

"That's where I live," replied Ortigies.

"Do you live all alone?"

"Yes, my child."

"Haven't you got any little girl like me?"

"No; I'd give all I have in the world if I had."

"Wouldn't you like to have me for your little girl?"

"Indeed I would; will you be my little girl?"

The baby face became thoughtful. She thrust one finger in the corner of her mouth and looked down at the floor.

"What would papa do and those other folks? I will be the little girl for all of you."

This struck the party as the brightest and wittiest expression ever made by a mortal. They laughed, clapped their hands and striking each other on the shoulder wanted to know whether anything of the like had ever before been heard. Certainly not. Without paying any heed to them, Nellie was peering into the room again.

"It's dark and cold," she said in an awed voice, turning her face around, the better to communicate the information; "but I ain't afraid."

Before she could fairly enter the place, her father, who was affectionately watching her, said:

"I guess you would better not go in there, Nellie; it's growing late and is time you prepared for bed."

"I'll