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The dashing Sally duel, and other stories Sands, Harold 1905

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             «*■
STiye^ laaJpng
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Anil (§itpr §>iaxwn
BY
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i
i Copyrighted,   iQ05t
BY
HAROLD  SANDS.
All Rights Reserved,
/rv  63 J
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P&9&37
3   3M CONTENTS.
■
£AGE
The Dashing Sally Duel       1
The Premier's Daughter     11
A Queen of Bohemia     20
"Horsefly Bill's" Revenge     28
The Belle of Spuzzum     34
The Temptation of the Missionary     44
"Silver Jack"     53
The Cultus Trader     63
The Passing of Callicum     68
A Hudson's Bay Company Pig     77
The Long Arm of Uncle Sam     87
The Eomance of the  Happy Thought
Mine  101
A Little Game of Seven-Up  110
The Girl from 'Frisco  118
Newspaper Ghost that Walks  132
The Primitive Lovers  137
i Et I ■ ,THE "DASHING SALLY" DUEL.
(C]
It seems to me that a white man is a white man,
no matter where he may go."
Thus said a beardless youth to a group who sat
in the smoking room of the Campagma, two days
out from Liverpool for New York.
"I cannot imagine/' he went on, "that even
among the worst savage folk a real white man
would exhibit any but white qualities." The boy
seemed to delight to linger on the word "white."
O  t CD
He was a kind of a lily-white lad himself, and his
face was almost the color of his cigarette. He
was not a good sailor, however much of a hero he
might be in other directions.
"I presume, sir, you are speaking out of the fulness of experience," remarked a bronzed traveler,
with so kind a voice that it removed any sting there
might be in the words. "Now you, I take it, are
from New York," he proceeded. "I have traveled
through Europe and through the West, but I
know little or nothing about the Eastern States and
your greatest city. Therefore I must write myself down an ignoramus. And yet I could tell
you of the whitest kind of men who have, for a
period, gone perilously near to savagery. And the
cause? Simply the absence of white women. To
keep the men white the women must stay the same
color, my boy." The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
The crowd in the smoking room looked expectant. Here was a man who, they recognized by
instinct, could tell a good story. Every one was
glad when the boy said:
"Would you mind giving us some instances,
sir ?
"Well, I'll try to show you what I mean. It was
at the end of the great Cariboo gold excitement in
the sixties that I found myself at the little town
of New Westminster, on the Fraser Eiver, in British Columbia. I think they called the place
Queensboro' then, after her late most gracious
majesty, Victoria of blessed memory," and he
raised his hat as befitted a good Britisher who recalls the memory of that grand woman.
"I don't suppose there were more than half a
dozen white women in the place. But there were
scores of Indians, and there were some hundred
white men, good, bad, and indifferent. Where the
women were concerned the men mostly could be
classed under the middle category. There was
gold in plenty, and more whiskey was drunk than
water. I will say this for the whiskey, it was
really good stuff, imported by the Hudson's Bay
Company, which never cheats. You don't get its
equal in the mining camps of to-day.
"Well, despite the argument of my friend yonder, white men do not pretend to keep their passions under strict control in mining camps. The
flesh rules there, as often as not. With only ^lyo
white women in the town, and those all married,
what were the other chaps to do? I put it to my
experienced friend from New York, here," and he
smiled kindly. And   Other   Stories.
fya
<c\
Why," he went on, "the husband of one of those
white women died while I was there, and within
a fortnight she had married a rich chap from
Cariboo. She didn't do it because of his gold, but
just to escape the offers of half a hundred other
men. Her life was a burden till she was a wife
again. She was not even allowed to mourn for
the dear departed."
"That seems to knock a good many spots off the
original argument," put in another passenger.
"Oh, but that is comparatively mild to what I
have yet to tell 3^ou," went on the Western man.
I There being so few of the white women it came
about quite naturally that the prettiest among the
klootchmen—as the Indian women are called—
achieved a good deal of prominence, which would
be quite impossible under conditions as they exist
in the West to-day. But very few klootchmen are
really pretty. They have to work while their red
lords play the man of leisure. Naturally, there
being so much firewater around, the Indians became demoralized, and it was easy to pick up a
red woman for more or less booze. This being a
plain argument, you will allow me to indulge in
plain language, I hope."
"By all means, sir. In New York we love noth-
ing so much as plain speech," said the youngster,,
with a self-satisfied air as of one who sports an
epigram.
"Of course there were among the inhabitants a
lot who were really entitled to the term *bad
men,'" continued the Westerner. "Not a £ew of
them were fugitives from San Francisco. Others
were escaped desperadoes from other States, and
■to The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
some ought to have been serving time in jails in
Eastern Canada. There were also bright, earnest,
clever, hustling fellows from both sides of the
boundary line, who had been attracted to British
Columbia by the tales of gold and the lure of adventure. You couldn't expect much from the
former, but, if my young friend's argument holds
good, the latter class could never do anything that
wasn't 'white.' I am bound to confess, however,
that even they were known to fall when there was
a woman in the case.
"My friend, Mr. D. W. Higgins, really one of
the genuine 'white men' referred to by the gentleman yonder, has recently published a few of his
reminiscences in which he tells of a duel between
one of the 'bad men' from California and a youngster from England. The latter was shot through
the heart, and his murderer escaped only to be
executed in San Francisco. The story I have to
tell you refers to another meeting, the consequences
of which were not so serious, but a woman was also
at the bottom of this trouble."
"One of those klootchmen, as you call them?"
said the New Yorker.
"Quite right, my boy. It was one of those
klootchmen who started the bother, and not a good-
looking one either. If you were to see one of her
class now you would put her down as a raker
among the filth and garbage of your city's gutters.
But in Queensboro' in 1864 she was a woman, and
therefore to be courted.
"Now two of my old pioneer friends allowed
therr love to wander her way because there was no
white woman near to whom they could pay honor- And   Other   Stories. 5
able attention. They were two as honorable men
as ever breathed, but at Queensboro' they followed
the gospel according to Tommy Moore, and were
among those who thought it sweet to remember
that 'where'er we rove, we are sure to find something blissful and dear, and that when we're far
from the lips we love, we've but to make love to
the lips we are near.' But the troublesome part
was that they both desired to make love at the same
tiine to the same lips that were near. Both of my
old friends are dead now, after having lived careers
of great usefulness to British Columbia, so I shall
not mention their names. Reversing the usual
■order of things, the good that they did is living
after them.
"As I think I have said, the woman was not
good-looking, as we judge beauty nowadays. But
she had soft arms, and nature had blessed her with
luxuriant charms in other directions. She was a
hot-house creation, meant for a boudoir, but unfortunately born into a red family and in a coun-
try where boudoirs were non-existent at that time.
With the coming of thousands of white women to
British Columbia there is no lack in the boudoir
way now. But, like the garrulous old fellow that
I am, I am not keeping to the thread of the story.
"Both these men offered the woman a home.
She was torn between conflicting desires. In those
hot days, when bitter words meant bitter action,
and those words and the actions came swiftly, it
was not long ere the two men clashed in public.
There was a public dinner one night at which the
wine and the whiskey flowed in an ever-increasing
stream.    I think the member of the  town was
Kk *■***
6 The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
being banquetted for some reason or another. Reasons were not hard to find when a public feast was
desired in the West in those glorious, golden days.
The fun was getting fast and furious when my
two friends clashed. It was over so trivial an incident that the cause has slipped my memory.
However one threw a glass of whiskey in the
other's face, and the latter retaliated by pressing
a bowl of potatoes more or less firmly down upon
his antagonist's head. Pandemonium reigned in
a minute, and before five minutes had passed there
must have been half a dozen fights going on in the
dining hall. Every man who had a grievance
against a neighbor seemed to consider the time propitious to try to get even. We finally separated
all the combatants, but the banquet was done for.
It broke up in disorder. However, our member
had been under the table before the row started,
so his dignity was not hurt.
"Now, in order to uphold the tradition given
expression to by our young friend here, that 'a
white man is always white/ it was necessary that
the man who had received the whiskey in his face
should demand reparation, while the gentleman
who still bore traces of 'spuds' had, of course, the
right to demand satisfaction. It was decided that
a duel was the only way in which the old score
could be settled. So Mr. Spud,—shall we call him ?
—challenged Mr. Scot, as we may name the other
man for the purposes of the rest of this yarn.
"It may as well be immediately admitted that,
when sober, neither of the two lovers was a martial
man. The recent riotous scene had had the effect
of bringing the couple to their senses, and each And   Other   Stories.
would gladly have averted the duel. But some of
their acquaintances were still merrily tipsy and
egged them on. It was ultimately arranged that
the meeting should take place On Lulu Island, a
short distance down the Fraser River from the
town. Four o'clock in the morning was fixed on
as the most suitable hour, and each combatant was
sent home to prepare his last will and testament.
Seconds were duly selected, and the men were to
use revolvers."
"Do you mean to tell me honestly that duelling"
was permitted in British Columbia as late as
1864?" asked the passenger for whose benefit this
story was being told.
"Please allow me to finish this argument," replied the Westerner. "Now, Mr. Spud, as soon as
he got to his little shack, instead of drawing up his
will, fortified himself with a long horn of a special
brand, and then, making sure that none of his too
pushing friends was in the neighborhood, made his
way, by devious paths, to the office of the chief of
police. To the officer he confided that a duel was
to be fought in a few hours, and told him that it
was his duty to stop the breaking of the law. He
informed him of the exact place at which the fight
was to come off, and beseeched him not to be late-
in arriving at the spot.
" 'Who are going to fight?' asked the policeman.
'Tell me that, and I can have the men arrested
now/
Oh, no, I couldn't do that/ said Mr. Spud.
'Besides I don't think you need arrest the men.
Simply stop the duel, but for heaven's sake don't
tell anyone that I informed about the fight/
mi fc
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
CC
{A few minutes after Spud had left the police
station the chief was visited by another man, who
also wished to inform him of the proposed meeting.
This person was none other than Mr. Scot, who was
just as anxious for the law to interfere, and
equally wishful that no arrests should take place.
Of course the chief put two and two together and
he determined to give my friends a good scare.
It was manifestly impossible for him to allow the
duel to take place, since he had been properly
warned that an infraction of the law was contemplated. He must prevent that, but he decided that
& fright would be good for two men who could lose
-their tempers in public for the sake of a klootch.
"It was a miserable-looking pair of principals
who turned up on Lulu Island at 4 a.m. The
chief of police had arrived before them, but they
did not know it. He was hiding behind a giant
cedar tree. It was to that tree that the seconds repaired in order to make the final preparations for
the duel. Very quietly the chief made his presence known and instructed them to put only blank
cartridges in the revolvers.
" 'That's all we were going to do anyway, chief/
ihey said.
" 'S'sh/ was his answer. 'Don't appear as if
you were talking to anybody here. Just go about
the business as if there were bullets about to fly.'
"Back to the wretched principals went the seconds. The former were looking eagerly for the
arrival of the police. But they looked in vain.
The twenty paces were measured and the last instructions given. So woe-begone did the two men
appear that it was with great difficulty the seconds And   Other   Stones.
9
u i
<c
refrained from laughing in  their faces,  and so
giving  the   whole   thing   away.    The combatants
were placed at the right distance.
Are you ready?' they were asked.
fEach gave one last despairing glance in the di~
rection of the town.
" 'One, two, three, fire!" came the command, but
not a shot was heard.
" 'Come, come, gentlemen/ said one second, 'this
won't do. Honor must be satisfied. Once again,,
are you ready?    Fire.'
"This time two shots were heard, and two gentlemen fell to the ground protesting that they were
dead.
"Then it was that the chief of police appeared
from behind the cedar tree.
" 'I arrest you in the name of the Queen/ he
said to the corpses, which by now had arisen from
the dead. 'The charge is breaking the law forbidding duelling.'
" 'I don't very well see the use of arresting a
couple of dead men, chief/ said one of the seconds..
'Didn't you hear each man solemnly declare that
life had passed away.    Let 'em rest in peace.'
" 'You must come with me, gentlemen, and you,,
too/ he said to the seconds, 'for being accessories/
"It was a sorry party that was rowed from Lulu
Island to the mainland. The chief had arranged
with the magistrate to be at the station when he
should return with the culprits, and thus they
were spared the publicity of a trial at the usual
court hour. It was just about 6 a.m. when this5
curious court was held, and everybody pleaded
guilty.    The principals were bound over to keep w
\\
io The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
the peace, and the others were let off with a warning. Then magistrate, chief, and the discharged
repaired to the Queensboro, Arms, where, over an
early morning glass, the difficulties of the past were
patched up.    The chief applied the final cement.
| *Let's see/ he said, 'wasn't it over "Dashing
Sally" that you two killed yourselves this morning? I thought so. Well, you may be interested
to know that she went down the river early this
morning with "Long-fingered Jim," and they both
had my warning that if they ever reappeared in
Queensboro' they would have to join the road-making gang for a few months.'
"And so ended -the last attempt at a duel in
British Columbia. The pistol habit died amid
peals of laughter. But I think my young friend
will admit that, in the absence of white women,
even 'white' white men return to the primitive."
When the Westerner had left the smoking room
the purser was sought. "Who is he?" the New
Yorker asked. "His name is down on the list as
*C. A. Riboo.' It sounds like a nom de plume,
doesn't it?"
The purser laughed. This was not the first
voyage Mr. C. A. Riboo had made with him.
"Well," he said, "that chap made a fortune in
the Cariboo, and I have heard him called 'Horsefly Bill/
9 *> And   Other   Stories.
II
M
I
THE PREMIER'S DAUGHTER.
CHAPTER I.
The Premier of British Columbia must be a
man of sense, but not of sensibility. The moment
a man is made the chief adviser of King Edward's
representative in His Majesty's most western possession, at that very instant he becomes the target
of abuse and sport of the leader-writer.
Premier John Stornway was weary of his office.
He preferred farming to politics. Moreover he
was only a stop-gap First Minister, and stop-gaps
always come in for more halfpence than kicks. He
had only a majority of one in the House, and he
would gladly have laid down his portfolio and retired to the ranch. But there was an ambitious
minister behind him who dominated the whole
cabinet, and was even known to make the Lieutenant-Governor shake in his shoes.
The Hon. Alfred Martingale was Premier in
all but name. He was a Scot, and he never let a
good thing go until his hold was unclasped by
force.
"Whaf s the good of worrying along with only
one of a majority, Mart?" asked the Premier,
wearily, one day. "And to-morrow when the
House meets we shall be defeated for certain, for
i !i-
p
12
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
there are two of our men who live in Cariboo, who
cannot get here until the steamer arrives from
Vancouver in the evening, and by that time all
will be over."
The Premier was speaking one January day,
189—i in his private office in the Legislative
Buildings, Victoria, B. C. It was the eve of the
meeting of Parliament, and a big scheme was being matured to defeat the Government. The
Premier felt it in his bones. But the ever-confident Finance Minister was not going to give in.
"Don't be afraid, Stornway," he replied, "there
is one of the opposition men also detained in Vancouver, and the House will have risen by the time
he gets here. Before another day comes round
we shall have been able to win over several of the
other side. The offer of liberal appropriations for
his constituency goes a long way with the aver
age       mber."
"But I should like to retire while we honorably
can do so," returned the Premier, while the Finance
Minister laughed at this thin-skinned politician.
"I should like," said the Premier, "to go out of
office by my own free will and without the stigma
of defeat on my administration. Of course I know
it is really your cabinet, old fellow, but I shall go
down into history as the Premier, which will be
rather nice for the family," he concluded with a
wan smile.
The Premier's instincts were not far wrong—
defeat was very near to his administration.
But a girl stepped in.
On the eve of the meeting of the Legislature it
was easy to see how the parties stood.    Out of the And   Other   Stories.
13
House of 38 members there were in Victoria 17
government men, 17 opposition, and the Speaker j
who was supposed to be neutral. There were two
government and one opposition members absent.
By the ordinary routes of travel they could not
reach the Legislature till several hours after the
speech from the throne had been delivered, and the
House had risen for the night. But the absent
opposition man, the brainiest politician in British
Columbia, had timed his absence on purpose to
give the government security. He intended to
make a dramatic appearance in the House several
hours before the other two men could arrive, and
so beat the government on the first day of the new
session. The name of this politician was the Hon.
Samuel Swallow. He was the stormy petrel of
Dominion politics. His career and its romances
would fill this book.
^ 1*4
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
I-
CHAPTER II.
A
ID
I
Society in British Columbia is delightfully
simple. It opens its arms to anybody with money
or a nodding acquaintance with a title. To be a
real favorite, one should have much money and
little brain.
The Premier seldom went into society, and he
never gave dinners. His daughter Bernice said
he showed his wisdom that way, but his followers
said he lost votes. Bernice believed in the young
person earning a living for herself, whether her
father be premier or shoeblack. That was why
she was day counter clerk in the telegraph office
in Vancouver. She was not on duty on the eve
of the meeting of Parliament when Mr. Swallow
sent a most important telegram to Mr. Muir, who
besides being a member of the opposition, was also
president of a railway and steamship company,
which connected Vancouver with Victoria via
Nanaimo.    The telegram read as follows:
€<
John Muir, Victoria, B. C.
"Two government men cannot possibly reach
Victoria till to-morrow evening. If you send
steamer Arc over from Nanaimo very early in the
morning for me, and have a special train waiting
at Nanaimo to make a fast run to Victoria, I can And   Other   Stories.
15
reach the House three hours ahead of them, and
surprise the government into defeat. Without my
presence the House ties and the Speaker will certainly give his casting vote in favor of the government. (Signed)        Samuel Swallow."
Mr. Muir gave orders in accordance with the
telegram.
It was part of the morning duty of Bernice
$tornway to get the telegrams of the previous
night and store them away. She had her fair
share of curiosity, and contrived to become acquainted with all that was going. She said she
never knew what might be useful to father; so she
called the yellow bundles her Daily Town Talk.
On the morning of the day the House was to
meet, Swallow's telegram was in the pile. She always claimed afterwards that that eminent statesman owed her a day's news, for she did not get
past his message.
"The clever wretch," was her first feminine comment. Her second thought was that she would
spoil the game of this wily politician, and her
third thought was, what was her duty to the telegraph company?
"Loyalty is not the best policy in this instance,"
was her decision, so she prepared to take a hand
in the making and unmaking of cabinets. Her
sympathies were entirely on the government side.
Not alone was her father Premier, but her betrothed was private secretary to the Premier. A
telegram to Percival Stillingworth put him in possession of the. details of the conspiracy. The private secretary hurried with the news to his chief,
W i6
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
l:
y  v
and a cabinet council was held just before the
House met, when the course of action was decided
upon. It was seen that it would be impossible to
hurry the proceedings so that the Parliament could
rise before the special train could arrive, so the
government decided to borrow a policy from the
opposition and talk against time.
For the benefit of the uninitiated it may be stated
that on the opening day the British Columbia
House meets at 3 p.m. to receive His Honor the
Lieutenant-Governor, and to hear him read the
speech from the throne. The pro forma business
is transacted, and sometimes the address in reply
is moved. But the Speaker can adjourn the
House for dinner at 6.30, and can name any hour
for the evening meeting, though night sessions are
seldom held in the early weeks of the House meeting.
■ And   Other   Stories.
17
CHAPTEE III.
J
Politician Swallow was very anxious that no
■ reporter should see him when he boarded the
steamer Arc. He wanted no spoiling of his coup
de main. Therefore when he got out of his cab at
the wharf he was irritated to find the gangway to
the steamer blocked by a tearful girl who implored
to be allowed to go to Nanaimo.
"My father is deathly sick," she wailed. "Oh,
do let me on board."
Samuel Swallow could never resist a woman in
tears, so he signed to the sailor to let the girl on
the steamer. She could know nothing, and a good
deed more or less was nothing to a politician.
Having assisted her as far as Nanaimo he could
not refuse her passage on the special train to Victoria.
And thus it was that Bernice arrived at the
capital at the same time as her father's political
enemy. She let no one know of her arrival, but
drove at once to a costumier'^, where she was made
up as Mr. Jeremiah Helmslow, the member for
Cariboo.
CHAPTER IV.
The Legislature was excited. When His Honor
entered the House there were 17 men on each side,
but the jubilation was all on the opposition quarter.
They knew that a special train was bringing their
eighteenth member and defeat for the government-
I
■A It
it
18
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
There was little attention paid that day to prayers,
and even the speech from the throne was impatiently listened to. As His Honor left the House
with his gilded and glittering staff, there entered
Hon. Samuel Swallow. He was received with
deafening applause by the opposition, and one or
two excited members took time by the forelock and
shouted out, "Resign, resign." Ere the echo of the
words had died away in the dome there rushed into
the House the member for Cariboo. And then the
government side took up the cheer, and the opposition sat dumfounded.
The Premier rose to the occasion. "Mr.
Speaker," said he, "I beg to move that the House
at its rising do stand adjourned till Monday."
"No, no," came the roar from the left.
Mr. Speaker put the question.
rThe ayes have it," he remarked.
'Names, names,"' was the opposition shout, and
the count showed 18 for and 18 against.
"I give my casting vote in favor of the motion,"
said the Speaker, and the Houge re-echoed to
government acclaim.
"I beg to move that the House do now adjourn,"
said the Premier. The opposition insisted on another division, and again the casting vote of the
Speaker saved the administration.
As the House rose the Premier went to thank
the member for Cariboo for his opportune appear*
ance, but Mr. Helmslow had disappeared.
tit
<C\ And  Other   Stories.
19
CHAPTER V.
rA couple of hours later the Premier was in his
rooms at the Draird Hotel with his private secretary.   The bell-boy brought him up a card.
"Ask her to come up," said he to the boy.
Bernice entered the room.
"Why, how did you come here?" asked her
father.
"With the member for Cariboo, dad," she answered.
A knock came at the door. "Come," cried the
Premier.
"A telegram for you, sir," said the boy.
The Premier opened it. "Sorry, but lost the
boat at Vancouver; hope my absence will not inconvenience you.    (Signed) Helmslow."
The Premier handed the telegram to his secretary and took his daughter in his arms.
•>'i
fijy 20
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
A QUEEN OF BOHEMIA.
Ill
"This blasted colonial life is not what it's
cracked up to be," said Godfrey Downing, as he
shied a book at the hurricane lamp, which was the
sole means of light in the miner's cabin occupied
by himself, two other Englishmen and an American. Fortunately for his skin, he missed the
lamp.
"What the hell did you do that for, Downing?"
grumbled Captain Carrol—they called him "Cap."
for short along the creek. The book, which
proved to be a copy of Shakespeare, caught him
on the ear, and the blow made him mad.
"Keep your hair on, Cap," was all the satisfaction he got for the moment.
"Downing makes an awful nuisance of himself
sometimes," mildly put in Fraser.
"You fellows make me beastly well tired," imitated the American, a man name Dease. "Why
you can't even swear decently. You can't expect
to get much satisfaction out of life here if you refuse to do in Rome what Rome does."
"But then this isn't Rome, Dease, you know,"
returned Fraser.    "It's British Columbia."
"Oh, no, it ain't," replied Dease. "I'm willing
to maintain that it's part of Uncle Sam's territory.
But at any rate 'tisn't England; you fellows seem
to imagine you are still in the Old Land, with your And   Other   Stories.
21
'blawsted' and your 'dontcherknows/ and your yellow leather gaiters. If you must swear—I never
do, as you know—why God damn like a native son,
and wear gum boots when you're working in the
creek.    At the least you'll keep your feet dry."
"Well, I'll be God damned," was Downing's surprised answer. And then, because he had been
brought up on the Bible and Sunday at Home in
the Old Country, he blushed like a tenderfoot,
thought himself very wicked, and was glad the old
folks could not hear him. Dease laughed. He
knew Downing would do penance for that swear;
probably he would go without cigars the next time
he went to Spokane.
"Listen to the virtuous Downing breaking the
eleventh commandment," broke in Cap, while Dease
chuckled.
Having now introduced the four miners I will
explain that they were hunting for gold on Forty-
nine Creek, and there was a dispute as to whether
the region was in British Columbia or the State of
Washington. Since the days of this story the
country has been surveyed by a joint commission,
but at that period nobody bothered about it, and
the Britishers and the American had innumerable
friendly squabbles on the subject of sovereignty.
At the few moments they did agree on the subject
1 they called it that any man's land, Bohemia.
When they wrote to capitalists they said their
placer claims were marvelously rich.
"It only needs a little money to enable us to put
up a dredge and make millions," Dease wrote to
his friends in New York. But capital was shy.
The Eastern men would not bite at all, so the f oui
fa 22
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
had to get along with rockers. They just managed
to make enough to keep them in beans and bacon,
and lay by a little on which to have a periodical
bust in Spokane. The British Columbia towns were
too goody-goody for them when they went on the
spree.
It was a wild life they led. Apart from every
influence that tended to soften it was a wonder
that they did not become more loose in their behavior and hardened in character. As a matter of
fact, they were four jolly good fellows of the
pioneer type of whom the West is so proud.
Strange as it may seem their good times in Spokane helped to keep them refined, while out of that
town came petticoats that helped to make their
fortune.
While in the city one night, the quartet entered
their favorite restaurant for a midnight supper.
As they passed a private box they saw the curtain
at the entrance invitingly open, and caught a
glimpse of white arms and dazzling shoulders. It
was easy to "get acquainted," and over the wine
the fair one promised to visit the mines. In the
train on the way back next morning the boys
passed a unanimous vote to the effect that she was
a jolly good fellow, but were equally unanimous in
the belief that she would never appear at the creek.
To their great surprise she turned up a week later,
and explained that, having a month's vacation, she
was going to spend it with them. One day she put
on miners' clothes and they all declared she made
"a broth of a boy."
It goes without saying that each man quickly fell
in love with her, and each knew that the others And   Other   Stories.
were victims of the "Queen of Bohemia," as they
called her.
One night, after the Queen had retired from the
circle of her adorers, and the whiskey bottle had
passed round three or four times, Downing re*
marked that he was "bally well sick of four men
chasing one girl, and each being afraid to tell her
that she was his only, only, all because it might be
considered a low-down trick on the others." "I
propose," he went on, "that we let the dice settle
who shall have the first chance."
"A corking good suggestion," remarked Cap,
while Fraser agreed, and Dease was understood to
say that it was the only sensible remark he had ever
heard Downing make in the course of years of intimacy.
"Quit your fooling and get the dice," said Downing to Dease, and the latter got the "bones.
"High man wins, first flop," he suggested, as he
placed the dice on the little table in the center of
the cabin, and the rest agreed.
"May as well decide to make this throw do for
the whole lot," put in Cap. "Suppose she declines No. 1, the second man can try next, and so
on. Perhaps the one who throws lowest will be the
lucky man. Unlucky at dice, lucky at love, you
know."
This course was agreed upon, and Cap was allowed first throw. The dice rattled on the table,
and he was seen to have an ace and two deuces.
"Excuse me, Dease, if I say deuce take it," he
genially remarked. "It looks, however, that I'm
going to be the man unlucky at dice." I   \.m
fJa
'24
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
99
Downing got eight, Fraser twelve, and Dease
three sixes.
"First call for the United States," the latter
cried. "Old Glory leads. Better say good-bye to
all your fond hopes, boys.    The girl is mine."
The others, real good fellows that they were,
wished him luck, and it was arranged that he
.should pop the question the next day.
"Nothing like getting the agony over quickly,
Downing said, "and if you're refused why the next
man can try the following day."
Dease chose the time of moonlight for his wooing. He left the other three to wash up after dinner, while he "took the Queen to see the peculiar
^effect on the falls of moonbeams," he said, with
a wink to his less fortunate companions.
Dease was the kind of American whose courtships are short and sharp.
"Your Majesty wants a Prince Consort," he said,
as he placed an arm around her waist, the better
to guide her footsteps along the trail. "You can
have your pick from this mining camp, but I am in
duty bound to tell you that there's not a better man
for the job than yours truly. Now may I tell the
boys when I get back that we are engaged ?"
"Well, I admire your cheek, Mr. Dease," was the
rather surprising retort. "I don't mind your arm
about my waist a bit, so long as it suits you to
keep it there. I'm an intensely practical person,
as you know, so you will not be surprised if I ask
you how well able are you to support me ?"
"Oh, there'll be no difficulty about that," cheerfully lied the American.    "I've got a fourth in- And   Other   Stories.
terest in our placer mine, and when we get a little
Eastern capital into it I'm a millionaire."
"You have made me a proposal of which I am
deeply proud," said the Queen of Bohemia, "and
now I will test your love. I cannot give you a
definite reply to-night, but I ask you, as an evidence of bona fides-—remember we have only known
each other a few days> and we met in a most unconventional manner—I ask you, to show that you
really mean well by me, to make over to me that
quarter interest in the mine.   Will you do it?
Now, Dease was no fool, and to tell the truth, he-
was not so head-over-heels in love, even with this
dainty Queen from Spokane. But he thought he
would chance it.
"Why, certainly," he replied, with seemingly the
greatest ardor. "Tell me your right name, and
you shall have the deed to-morrow. Then when
will you give me your answer?"
"In two weeks time, at 8 p.m., at the Coeur
d'Alene Theatre, Spokane," returned she.
Now that very answer only made Dease all the
more curious. It was rummy, to say the least, that
a lady should go to such a music hall at such an
hour. However, he determined to see the thing
through. Moreover, as he had not been definitely
accepted, he decided to let the other men propose
to the Queen of Bohemia, and he would hold his
peace till the night arranged for.
The three following nights three different men
desired to show the Queen of Bohemia the falls of
Forty-nine Creek by moonlight.
The next day the Queen of Bohemia was miss-
inff %
I   I
':a:
i
2*6
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
a
And each man of the quartette knew that he had
assigned his interest in the mine to the missing
girl. 1 i.     W
But nobody said a word.
On the morning of the day upon which Dease
had arranged to meet the girl at the Spokane music
hall, he announced that he intended to take the
train to town. Curiously enough, each of the other
men had business in Spokane.
Still nobody said a word on the subject of the
Queen of Bohemia.
It was dinner time when Spokane was reached
that night.
We may as well all dine together," said Dease,
and then," he added innocently, "I'm going to
take in the Coeur d'Alene Theatre."
"So am I," said Downing. "Me too," remarked
Cap.    "Also me," said Fraser.
And then they all laughed. The adventure
promised to be amusing. How would it turn out,
and what about the mine ?
Nine o'clock found the quartette seated in one
of the curious little boxes at the music hall. They
had withstood the temptations of the gambling
rooms, the photograph machines had no attractions for them, they had even passed by the bar.
They whispered to the man at the door that if a
lady asked for them they were in the box. Number 14 had just been announced as they took their
seats. With languid curiosity they turned to their
programmes and saw that the name opposite the
number was that of Edward Howard, female impersonator. No suspicion of the truth entered into
the heads of the Englishmen, but Dease smiled. And  Other  Stories.
27
From the wings there stepped a dainty vision,
and tumultuous applause greeted no less a person
than "the Queeen of Bohemia."
"Ain't he a corker of a woman," the four heard
from a female voice in the next box.
Just then a note was handed to each of the
party. In every envelope there was a document
relating to the placer mine on Forty-nine Creek,
and a note which ran thus:
"If you can forgive my little joke meet me at
the Bianca restaurant in half an hour's time, and
I will introduce you to some real girls. I return
the quarter interest in the mine. Edward Howard, Queen of Bohemia."
"I vote we go," said Downing.
They went, and in Spokane they still sometimes
tell of the wild night indulged in by four miners
from "No Man's Land," and their companions, of
whom a certain one called the "Queen of Bohemia/'
was the top notcher.
Shortly afterwards the much-wished for dredger
appeared on Forty-nine Creek, the money for it
having been put up by the same Queen, and
though the creek did not yield its millions it gave
a comfortable sum to each man interested. The
four miners are married now, and they have not
told their wives of that glorious night in Spokane
when the Queen of Bohemia turned out to be a
man. That is why I have not given their real
names in telling this veracious story. ^8
The   Dashing  Sally   Duel
I
"HORSEFLY BILL'S" REVENGE.
"Horsefly Bill" was mad. He flung himself
into the barber's shop in Barkerville, took a seat,
laid his revolver upon his knees, and told the
operator that if one drop of blood was drawn while
he was being shaved he would shoot him dead on
the spot. No gore was seen after Bill had got rid
of three days' growth, but the barber told a friend,
strictly in confidence, that if he had cut Bill's
chin he was prepared to finish the job by slitting
the Cariboo Gold King's throat.
"If anybody had to die that day," he remarked,
"I was going to take good care it was not me."
Those were jolly days up in Golden Cariboo. In
this century a man there who has a fancy to carry
a revolver makes acquaintance with the inside of
one of British Columbia's skookum houses (jails)
or pays a fine of $50, which is more than the
darned revolver is worth.
"Are you in your right mind now, Bill?" I
asked, as he paid the sullen barber, and stroked
his chin. "If you are, you can tell me what you
were swearing at just now; if you're not, I don't
want to hear, for your language is a little too
flowery at such times, even for me."
I was one of the few persons up in Cariboo in
'60 of the male sex who could take liberties with
Horsefly Bill."    All  the women   could   do   so.
£( And   Other   Stories.
29
That's the reason he died poor after making millions.
"Poking your nose in, as usual, newsy," said
Bill, and the calmness of his language showed that
he was at peace, even with the barber. "Well,
come and have a drink, and I may be able to give
you an item for that G  d  paper at the
Coast, which don't know the truth when it sees
it."
I smiled at Bill's little pleasantry. It was the
only thing to do.
"A little beast of a lawyer from Victoria refused to have a drink with me, and the parson
stopped me from putting a bullet into his blue-
blooded hide," said Bill, as a great horn of hootch
disappeared down his throat. "You can bet that
made me mad. But I'll get even with the blank-
ety, blank toad," he added. Whether he did or
not you can determine for yourselves.
That same night Bill introduced me to Lawyer
Dukeley. I didn't like the looks of the man,
otherwise I might have warned him to be on the
lookout, because when "Horsefly Bill" got his temper up in the tropics, things were bound to happen.
The mere fact that Bill was so friendly with the
little lawyer man after the morning's experience
ought to have made the latter cautious. However,
he was greedy to get rich quick, and, like most of
his sort, went nearly bust in the attempt. But, as
the lady novelist says, I am anticipating.
Dukeley, who was by no means averse to making
money in a loose way so long as his robe was not in
danger, had had a change of heart concerning Bill,
because the Gold King had hinted at a scheme by
I
til 3°
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
111
ll
If
R »
j
which Dukeley could get rid of what he thought
was a valueless claim for the thousand dollars it
had cost him to buy it. That was why the pair
were chummily boozing together. I never heard
the full details of the scheme, because Bill refused
to tell them.
"I'm not aching to go to jail just yet, even for
the satisfaction of getting even with Dukeley," he
said when I pressed him on the subject. "Of
course you wouldn't tell, my boy, but somehow or
other these things get around."
All I was able to gather was that someone sold
Dukeley $500 in gold nuggets, and that with them
the lawyer "salted" his claim. He put the claim
on the market after cleaning up $200 worth of
the nuggets, and got $1,000 for it. One of Bill's
agents bought the claim. Dukeley thus got back
$700 of his original investment, and before he left
the camp he endured the agony of seeing "Horsefly Bill" take $25,000 in gold out of the "salted
mine." But Bill hadn't done with his little friend
the lawyer. I am sure he had determined to drive
him penniless out of the camp, but he didn't quite
manage to do that. You can't entirely skin a
shyster lawyer.
The Cariboo Gold King went to great lengths
to have his revenge upon Dukeley. One doesn't
have to be a lawyer to know that his actions were
criminal. However, he's dead now and cares not
a rap for British, nor any other kind of earthly
justice.
Dukeley announced one day that he had had
enough of the gold fields, and was about to return
to Victoria.    He expressed the confident belief that «
And   Other   Stories.
31
(C
Horsefly Bill" would yet stand in a criminal's
dock, and the fervent hope that he would be allowed to prosecute him. He would ask no fee from
the government to act as counsel for the Crown,
he remarked.
When Bill heard this the air around was rich
with many a choice grammatical expression which,
unhappily, cannot be given to the polite world of
to-day. But he swore that Mister Dukeley would
pay through the pocket.
Within a week the lawyer set out for Yale in a
private stage. He carried most of his ill-gotten
wealth with him within the vehicle. He had sent
a few thousand dollars by registered mail a few
weeks before to a bank in Victoria. All went well
till a roadhouse about seventy miles from Yale
was reached. There, over the dinner table, Dukeley got into conversation with a stranger who had
much to tell him of the latest news in Victoria,
and the more recent happenings in the outside
world as brought from San Francisco. The
stranger had made a hurried trip from the Pacific
coast, and was full of items which were intensely
interesting to a man who had been buried for
months in a northern mining camp.
"Which way are you going?" Dukeley asked of
his new-found friend, when the stage driver announced that it was time to be moving forward.
"Well, I have to go to Barkerville, but I have
left some important documents at Yale, and must
return for them before resuming my journey
north," answered the stranger. "I am going on
the next stage down."
it
# I
M
32
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
«1
T can gladly give you a lift," remarked the
lawyer.
"That's very good of you," was the reply. "Are
you sure I shall not inconvenience you?"
As Dukeley hastened to answer in the negative
the stranger was forced to place his hand over his
mouth to hide what was either a smile or a yawn.
It was getting dusk when the stage started, and
there Was still ten miles to go before the stage
would reach the roadhouse where Dukeley intended
to put up for the night.
About half the distance had been covered, the
stranger beguiling the way with his interesting
record of late happenings. All of a sudden the
driver heard the cry:
"Halt, and throw up your hands."
The driver, a husky, fearless man, thought somebody was trying to frighten him, and called back:
rGo on and take a tumble to yourself."
fHold those horses, I tell you," came the voice,
now almost under his nose, "or I'll blow your
head off."        p §§| jmHl
This indication that business was meant caused
the driver to obey the mandate with alacrity.
Meanwhile inside the stage a horrible deed had
been enacted. The stranger had suddenly taken
a small packet from his pocket and flung the contents in the face of Dukeley. The inside of the
coach became stifling in an instant. The lawyer
fell back, overcome with the cayenne pepper that
had been thrown into his face, while the stranger
jumped out of the stage, taking Dukeley's box of
gold dust and nuggets. As he descended from the
vehicle he closed the door so that his victim should
id
«1 y*
And   Other   Stories.
continue to get the effects of the pepper. Outside
the stranger joined the other highwayman, and between them they bound the stage driver to a convenient tree. The horses of the stage were turned
loose, and then attention was paid to Dukeley.
The lawyer was suffering intense pain because of
the pepper in his eyes. He was taken to the roadside and also bound. The stage itself was left in
the middle of the road. The two robbers carried
the box of gold a few hundred yards along the road
to where there was a light vehicle attached to a pair
of fast horses.
That was the last ever seen in British Columbia
of that couple of gay robbers. The following
morning a party of miners came across the two
bound men and released them. Dukeley never fully
recovered the use of his eyes, and he certainly never
set those eyes on his gold again.
When the news of the holdup reached Barker-
ville nobody connected "Horsefly Bill" with it, and
whatever suspicions I had I naturally kept to myself.
But Bill got drunk that night. F
34 The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
THE BELLE OF SPUZZUM.
Whiskey, women and gold. There you have
the history of the Cariboo in brief. The Horsefly
district of Cariboo was not the richest part of the
country, but some men made fortunes there, including "Horsefly Bill" and "Red" Macaulay. They
were partners. Whiskey and a woman led to the
discovery of the placers, and Bill named the region because, as he put it, "the   flies were
as big as horses."
The Indian tribes along the Fraser River still
include among their old men some who fought
against the "Boston men" near the head of the Big
Canyon when the first gold rush was on. There
was a woman in that story, as in most fights between men, civilized or savage. What matter that
this particular woman was red? Her beauty was
as powerful on the Fraser River in 1858 as that of
any professional beauty in New York to-day, and
thirty Indians and four white men lost their lives
because of her. In thinking of this story I always
Temember what Siwash Jim said to me one day
down by the Capilano. "Beware of the mixing of
blood," he remarked.
Have you ever noticed that wherever there is
gold there is always an American, an Englishman,
a Scot, and an Irishman to be found? In the
Fraser River rush, as to the Klondike, the "Bos- And   Other   Stories.
35
ton men"—as the Indians call the Americans—
were in the majority. As far as the United States
was concerned not a few of these wanderers left
their country for their country's good. American
adventurers always have a keen nose for new gold-
fields. Turn up the old files of the San Francisco
Herald—if there are any left—and it will be
found that there was more excitement in California
over the Fraser River discoveries in 1858-60 than
there was in the British territory where the gold
existed. The ladies of love and leisure flocked
northward; Ballou started a Fraser River express
service overland from California to the goldfields;.
Wells, Fargo were quickly on the scene, and many
of the wild and woolly characters who had made
San Francisco too hot to hold them, found escape
from the Vigilance Committee on the Fraser River
bars. They introduced whiskey and smallpox—
the curses of the Siwash. These reckless characters were guilty of deeds that brought out the
worst passions of the red skins, and it was the action of abandoned "Boston men" which precipitated
the outrage at the Big Bend Canyon, the history
of which is written in red on the totem poles.
The woman in this case was Miwanda, daughter
of Chief Jack. She was seventeen years of age,
and an ideal picture of a girl in red at the time
the Devil's Dance began on the banks of the Fraser.
She was the belle for a hundred miles around Spuz-
zum, and many a brave had lost his heart to her
before ever the tramp of white feet was heard at
Yale, or the footprint of a "Boston man" was
left on the river's sands. Her father considered
no man of the nearby tribes rich enough for his I
\m
36
The   Ejashing   Sally   Duel
beauty, yet she only cost "Red" Macaulay two bottles of whiskey, and turned out to be dear at the
price. If Miwanda had been a white girl her
figure, in various stages of undress, would have
admirably suited the publishers of certain sensational illustrated periodicals. She was that kind
of girl.
"She is the finest bunch of loveliness I have
seen since I struck this damned country," remarked
Macaulay in the days that he was called Ned, and
had only just come north. It is certain that he
would never have seen the "damned country" if it
had not been for an urgent note he received from
the San Francisco Vigilance Committee one fine
morning. When he got that billet-doux Macaulay
stood not upon the order of his going from San
Francisco. When he made his remark on the banks
of Fraser Tim Maloney chimed in with:
"Why don't ye corrall her?" Tim was a bit
above Indian women, no matter how enticing. He
/got his degree at Trinity the year King Edward
was born, but chucked learning to the dogs for the
excitement of San Francisco, and several barrels
oi the nearest thing to his native whiskey.
"The old chief gives a fellow no chance," said
Macaulay. "He keeps a pretty watchful, if somewhat boozy, eye on his blooming peach."
"Yes, but he's too fond of the bottle to keep
those eyes open all the time," answered Maloney.
And it was when Chief Jack fell a victim to one
-of the ills that Indians have ever been heir to since
whiskey was introduced that he disposed of Miwanda for two bottles of Scotch. The whiskey
came from the store of the great fur company, and And   Other   Stories.
37
was, therefore, good in the sight of all men—no
matter the color of their skins. But it brought
damnation and bloodshed to Big Canyon.
"Well, old Chief Jack's as drunk as a fiddler,
and looking for more booze," said Maloney to Macaulay. "Sow's your chance to get the girl you
don't want to leave behind you."
Macaulay sought the chief, and a bargain was
struck. When the two bottles of Scotch had been
safely delivered, and Chief Jack had duly sampled
both, he called his daughter, put on his most dignified manner, and addressed her thus:
"Miwanda, the white man has found favor in
my eyes and wishes to belong to the tribe, so that
when I go to the happy hunting grounds you and
he may reign in my stead. I therefore give you to
him in marriage."
Now, Miwanda was no fool. She looked at her
father, she looked at Macaulay, and she looked at
the two bottles of whiskey. She knew, and the
look in her eyes was not favorable to a peaceful
honeymoon. She had had other thoughts of her
future, being beloved by a young buck who rejoiced in the translated name of Cow-hoe. This
young fellow had followed Miwanda to her father's
tent and heard the infamous sentence of marriage.
As the chief pronounced the word marriage Cow-
hoe noiselessly stole away. He came back in a minute, clutching at a dagger in his breast. The
sight that met his eyes only inflamed his passion. Macaulay was showing Miwanda beautiful
articles of adornment. He was wooing her in the
up-to-date fashion of the white man, and it was
novel to her.
M I ft
E
I
38
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
With a shout of rage Cow-hoe dashed into the
tent and buried his hunting knife deep in the heart
of Chief Jack. Then he turned towards Macaulay,
but the latter was ready for him, and a bullet in
the head put an end to the earthly career of the
young buck.
The first blood had been shed in the Fraser
River gold rush.
Instantly all was commotion in the camp. Fast
paddlers took word of the tragedy to Governor Douglas at Fort Langley. Meanwhile Colonel Moody, of
the British gunners and sappers, arrived at the Big
Canyon at the head of an insignificant force. But
British law and the majesty of red jackets had a
great effect on the turbulent camp. Colonel Moody
proceeded to arrange an enquiry. The troops
reached the camp on a Sunday, and with the colonel
church always came before worldly duty. He conducted service on the bank of the river, and forty
miners heard the Lord's Prayer for the first time
in many moons. The Indians watched the worship from a distance, and manifested great interest
in the religious ceremonies of the white men. After
the service Colonel Moody quickly got down to business. It was only five minutes after the last amen
that he was examining witnesses. The inquest was
held in a shanty which did duty for a store.
Outside the shack the Union Jack had been
planted, and twenty-four Engineers stood on guard
to uphold the weight of Queen Victoria's authority.
Macaulay and Maloney gave evidence, and a natural verdict was easily reached, viz., murder by
Cow-hoe, justifiable shooting by Macaulay. The
latter, however, was severely fined for supplying And   Other   Stories.
liquor to an Indian. On account of the red blood
that had been spilled, and because of his red wife^
Macaulay ever after was known as "Red/
The murder of the old chief and the death of
Cow-hoe marked only the beginning of bloodshed.
"Red" Macaulay knew enough about the nature of
Indians to realize that the whites at Spuzzum,
where there were no soldiers, were in danger. Colonel Moody and his men were forced to return to
the south, so Macaulay called a miners' meeting.
"Miners," said he, "we are in a dangerous position. We have got to face the music. Those Indians will never rest till they have avenged the
death of their chief. Cow-hoe killed him, but they
will blame me.    Will you stand by me, boys?"
"You bet your boots!" shouted a man in the
crowd, and the assent was taken up all around.
"Well, lads, we will have to take the initiative/
went on Macaulay. "Our best plan will be to
march to Long Bar, where the main body of the
Indians is encamped, surprise the redskins, and
conclude a treaty of peace. At least that is my
idea; has any one got a better suggestion to offer ?"
"Kill all the damned redskins; don't let's sign
a peace treaty, wipe the lot off," exclaimed an excitable French-Canadian.
"In my opinion that would be folly," said Macaulay. "In the first place, there are too many Indians in the country; secondly, that would put us
in conflict with the government; thirdly, these Indians will be useful to us later on as guides and
miners."
The policy of peace was adopted. Then Maloney
had his little word to say:
III
)m~
Pal'
M i -ill
i      -J» liifl
W #0
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
"We must have a captain," he remarked. "I
propose 'Red' Macaulay. He has shown that he
has real grit."
So Macaulay was elected the head of the expedition to Long Bar. He managed to scare up a
fighting following of 150 men. They marched
without delay to a point about four miles from the
Bar, and then sent a flag of truce to the redskins.
Instead of honoring it, the latter stamped upon
the flag. Macaulay and his party, thus rebuffed,
camped for the night. Before morning an attack
was made on them by the Indians. Maloney and
three French-Canadians were killed in the confusion, but the tide turned, and thirty redskins bit
the dust before the rest fled. "Red" Macaulay fol-
lowed them up and forced the new chief to make
& treaty of peace. He continued his march along
the Fraser River to the Thompson River and concluded treaties with 2,000 Indians. Along the
Fraser there was no further trouble with redskins,
and thus a "Boston man," though responsible for
the outbreak, was also the chief instrument in securing the whites from molestation by the bloodthirsty natives.
Macaulay's men immediately disbanded, and
made for the goldfields of Cariboo. "Red" and
his partner were the first to proceed to what became known as the Horsefly country. They had
to endure much hardship on the way. Of course
Miwanda accompanied Macaulay. But he soon
tired of her, chieflv because he thought she brought
him bad luck. While she was with him neither he
nor his partner, Bill, came across any signs of gold.
He got rid of her in a peculiar way.    The little
Kit And   Other   Stories.
party reached Quesnel Forks tired, disgusted, and
almost hopeless. The men had about made up
their minds to go back to the United States. Ten
dollars was all they had in cash, and their provisions*
would not last more than a week longer. Bill was
out prospecting one day, and Macaulay sat in the
little tent cleaning his revolver. He was turning
over in his own mind whether the rush for gold
was worth all the accompaning hardship when he
heard a step. Looking up he beheld the queerest
character he had seen in all his travels. He afterwards described his visitor as "a man in a large
canvas overshirt and a huge grey beard." The
stranger eyed Macaulay's revolver, which was of the
newest type, and said:
rSay, Cap, what kind of a shooting iron may ye
call that?" |
"This is the latest revolver," replied Macaulay,
The newcomer pulled out an old Colt's revolver
that looked as if it might have been the first made
in the manufactory, and said:
T don't believe they can make them as good as
this nowadays. Thig old fellow has been with me
ever since I struck this country five years ago, and
I'll shoot a match with you for ten dollars a side,,
just to prove my words/
"But I've only got ten dollars, and don't care to
risk that.    I may need it," said Macaulay.
The canvas-shirt man looked around the tent an<j
saw the Indian woman. His eyes lighted up just
as if he had not seen anything feminine in the five
years he had mentioned.
T'll make the bet $100 against that woman/' he*
declared. I
1 I
42
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
i%
■ m
"Done," cried Macaulay, and he determined not
to win. Here was an excellent chance to get rid
of his bad luck.
The stranger made a mark on a tree, and gave
Macaulay the first shot. The bullet went wide.
Then the stranger took careful aim, and deposited
his bullet right in the centre of the mark.
Macaulay could hardly restrain his joy. He had
not desired to abandon Miwanda, but he had fervently longed for a way to be rid of her, and this
was a most excellent opportunity.
"She goes cheap again," said he, "and I wish
jou joy." .Ill S
The stranger took out of his pocket a small bag
of gold dust.
"Here," said he, "you ought to have something
in exchange. "I know where there's lots more of
this stuff." £
"The devil you do," replied Macaulay. "And
if it's all the same to you will you kindly put me
next." His eyes were almost bulging out of their
•sockets as he spoke.
"I don't care," answered the stranger. "Gold
isn't much good to me. I'm going to stay in the
country the rest of my life with the girl here.
The gold came from over there," and he pointed to
what is now the Horsefly. Then he took the unresisting Miwanda by the hand, and was never
heard of again among the whites.
Macaulay waited for Bill to return, and the two
then stampeded to the new district. From that
day luck changed. "Horsefly Bill," indeed, became one of the gold kings of Cariboo. But
Macaulay did not care about staying in the country <c\
iCt
, And   Other   Stories.
after he had made a quarter of a million. The
gambling halls had no attraction for him; the dance
hells never had "Red" as a patron. He went down
to San Francisco, and took up with a white woman
who loved his gold more than she did him. After
all the nature of women is the same, red or white.
The last time I met him in San Francisco he was
tottering on the brink of the grave. He was interested, however, in a report that a new field of
gold had just been made in Horsefly. Some people
declared that it was only a fake report, spread
abroad by people who wished to get rid of some
claims.
What do you think, Red?" I asked.
rGold is where you find it, my boy.    Good-bye.
And    good-bye   it   was.    "Red"   Macaulay,   I
learned a few days later, crossed the last divide the
same night. 11
If/..
44
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
THE TEMPTATION OF THE MISSIONARY.
ifl
When Kwama wandered into the missionary's
house she was attired in a chemise. The Rev.
Alwyn Thompson did not blush when he saw her—
he was used to apparitions of that kind. He simply raised his eyebrows and remarked:
"Why don't you wash yourself, Kwama?"
The language he spoke was Chinook, but it is a
barbarous jargon not fit for these pages.
The question surprised the Indian girl. "Why
should she wash?" She had seen the missionary
do it, and had watched with wonder when Mrs*
Thompson performed her ablutions, but that she,
Kwama, should be thought capable of such useless
exertion amused her, and she laughed. The character of that laugh was so bewitching that the missionary found himself, almost unconsciously, glancing at his wife, whose face appeared to him too
sour to evermore be transfigured by the smiles of
courtship days. "But that laugh sounds dangerous," he thought to himself; from which it will be
gathered that years of toil among Indians had not
taken all the old Adam out of the British Columbia
missionary.
"I have come for some medicine for grandma,
not for a lecture/' replied Kwama, as she gazed
saucily at the cleric. And   Other   Stories.
45
"Why don't you take warning by your grandma ?" asked the Rev. Mr. Thompson; "she is suffering now as much from uncleanliness as from the
awful things she eats."
Kwama was dirty—there was no doubt about
that. But despite dirt and whale oil she was beautiful. And she knew it. Neither was there any
doubt of that. And she had visions. Ofttimes
when she huddled with the rest of her wretched
family in the tumble-down shack on the Reserve,,
she had thought of the fine ladies she had seen in
Victoria and Vancouver, and restlessness and longings, that she hardly knew the meaning of, had
come over her. She had silently rebelled at her
position as a red outcast. And after all she was
not very red; and she knew her figure was as good
as that of the whitest lady in the land. Why
could she not be as one of those who dressed in
purple and fine linen ? But first she must get education. She knew that and shuddered. She did
not like learning. The days in the mission school
were days of torture to her. But that morning,
when her grandma had sent her to the missionary
for some Epsom salts, she had determined to ask
Mr. Thompson to take her education in hand again,
and then she would go to Victoria and cut a dash
with the rest of her sex. Poor, primitive child of
nature, she knew not the crooked course of the
white butterflies of fashion. But knowledge was
to come to her, and all the pain that follows the
taste of the fruit of the tree.
"I have heard you say," she remarked to the
missionary, "that cleanliness comes next to godli-
ness.   Help me to become even as a white woman.
MM
I
v US
yp
dkjM If
■Ci-'-J»
46
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
I F
m
w
II
I
She would have liked to say also, "but not as your
wife," but child of nature though she was she had
the art of not saying things.
And as she made the request she had an attitude of such sweet simplicity that the Rev. Mr.
Thompson saw only the budding beauty of the
girl of seventeen, and none of the dirt he had been
so severe about when she first opened the door of
the mission house. Mr. Thompson was a well-
meaning missionary, but he forgot always that
charity begins at home. He gave his wife a large
family, and much household drudgery, and grew
morose because he missed the freshness and brightness of the charming girl he had brought from an
Ontario town to the wilds of the Pacific coast seven
years before. The man of the church had reached
a dangerous period in his life at the time that
Kwama was soliciting his services on behalf of her
unwashed body as well as for her soul. He had
.arrived at a turning point in his life when either
he would renew his love for his wife or else he
would answer to the call of the world. And so it
was a fateful day when Kwama's grandmother sent
her to the mission house for me dicing.
"My child," he answered, "I will do my best to
instruct you in the way you should walk so that
you may be a bright and shining example to your
tribe."
Kwama, clean and in a new white chemise, was
an object of delight for any one to gaze upon. Mrs.
Thompson remarked on her altered appearance,
and suggested to her husband that the costume of
the girl was hardly quite correct, even on an Indian reserve not much visited by white men.   But M
And   Other   Stories.
47.
Mr. Thompson was degenerating, and in his fall
he delighted in the glorious appearance that Kwama
presented, and was glad of the excuse of custom
which allowed Indian girls to be robed in little
else than their own charms when in their own
homes.
"Why seek to put absurd ideas into her mind,"
he answered, "about dress and the adornment of
the person ? It is enough to leave our own people
to such vain thoughts."
Mrs. Thompson meekly accepted the implied rebuke. She had too much washing to do, and too
many mouths to feed to dwell long on the subject or give more than a passing thought to
Kwama's many appearances at the mission house,
and her airy costume. But into the mind of the
Indian girl herself the poison of contact with the
missionary was beginning to work. In a subtle
way Mr. Thompson had conveyed to the girl the regard which her beauty forced from him. At first
he had fought against his own unfaithfulness to his
wife, but the inward conflict had been half-hearted,
and his "Get thee behind me, Satan," was not
uttered with any too much fervidness.
He stood at the parting of the ways when Kwama
coaxingly said to him one morning—her education
having meanwhile progressed rapidly as far as how
to read and write, and speak went:
"You must take me to Victoria. I cannot live
here with these dirty Indians"—she had learned
the use of soap and water as well as Lindley Murray. '     §      mm
What was the missionary to say to that? The
demand was so simple; the effect might be very 4%
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
tt'
M
:
terrible. And yet the request opened up, as he
then thought, a fascinating vista. He could enjoy life with Kwama. He could taste of the joys
of passionate living.
Thus he argued in the forest, where none of the
eccentricities of civilization, none of the galling
bonds were noticed to remind him that men and
Women cannot always live the life they may wish
to.
"Take me to Victoria, and you can do with me
as you will," the girl said, artlessly enough it appeared.
And that settled it for the Rev. Mr. Thompson.
He explained to his wife that morning that he
would take the next steamer to the capital, and
would there "place Kwama in a convent to finish
her education."    The lie seemed to come easily.
"She must have proper clothes," said Mrs.
Thompson.
"Of course," replied he, though he had not
thought of it. "But there is plenty of time for you
to make them; the boat does not go for five days."
And so the wife slaved to adorn the girl who
her husband calculated should fill the position that
he had never given the Ontario belle a chance to
qualify for.
But when Kwama put on the home-made garments the missionary had a revulsion of feeling.
The dark face and hair under a hat trimmed with
violets appeared to have lost some of its charm,
the hiding of the lissome limbs by the skirt of
brown, and the total disappearance of the rounded
bosom beneath a blouse of gray, produced in him a
sharp feeling of disappointment, and it was borne And   Other   Stories.
49
home to him that he had been gratifying an animal
passion which was unworthy of any white man,
and particularly blameworthy in a missionary.
But the voyage to Victoria must be undertaken.
He knew enough of the temper of Kwama to be
aware that an explosion in his home would result
were it put off. He must get rid of the girl, and
then make his atonement to his wife for his unspeakable perfidy. He gazed at his partner in
life with intense eagerness as he held her in his
arms and bade her good-bye. He at last sorrowed
to see the lines of care so early on that brow which
a few years ago was unruffled, while the grey hairs
showing among the brown pained him.
"God bless you, darling, and keep you safe till I
return," he said tenderly, and the unaccustomed
address, and the feeling tone in which the words
were uttered stirred the heart of the woman, which
had been growing heavier as the days went by, and
love seemed to have departed. She lay on her bed
and wept as the steamer went on its way, but the
tears were more of joy than sorrow.
Meanwhile the missionary took staterooms for
his charge and himself. He left Kwama to her
own devices while he lay on his bunk, and decided
his future. In his cabin were God and Devil. He
arose from the conflict the man of God that his
mother thought him on the day of his ordination.
As for Kwama, she had taken off her clothes in
her little room, and was surveying her beauty in
the small glass that the cabin contained. Her
thoughts were of the meanest type. Did she love
the missionary? Her lips pursed at the thought*
But he would be useful at first until she got into Ill
5°
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
I
I'?
the swim. She was aware that some of the proudest families in Victoria had a red strain in their
blood. Why should she not have corsets and rustling skirts, and be even as the best among them ?
The missionary had given her an education to fit
her to hold her own at least in that town; she could
supply the requisite means for rising in the world.
She smiled as she thought of the means, and caressed her bosom and turned half round so that she
might glance over her shoulder at the curves the
glass showed to her. She had been born with the
knowledge of evil in her, and she had used the
missionary to start her on the broad path.
When they reached Victoria the missionary had
intended to take her direct to the Girls' Home, for
he had determined to carry out the decision he had
come to in that terrible struggle in his cabin. But
in the cab she said to him:
"It will only be necessary to get one room at the
hotel." | I
The remark was accompanied by av glance that
set his pulses stirring, and his blood ran hot. But
he was conscious of a feeling of repulsion, and his
eyes began to open.
"What a fool I have been!" he thought. "The
girl hopes to make use of me, and I have been thinking that it was I who was leading her and not she
who was tempting me."
Still he knew that without him she would still
have been at the village, just one Indian girl
among many. She was bound to break out, he was
aware, but had he been strong the blame would not
have been his. He would carry the scar to his
grave. y
And   Other   Stories.
Si
>
"What am I to do with her now, after that
declaration?" he muttered.
The problem might have frightened a man not
a missionary, to Mr. Thompson it was a horrible
burden. He could only wait till he got her to the
matron's room in the home. There he talked
seriously to her. But she was tearful and reproachful.
<cxr.
You taught me to love you," she said, "and
now you would desert me and condemn me to the
horror of this home.    I will not stay here."
"But you must, for a time at least," he answered weakly.
"I will not stay in this place," she angrily retorted. "I will tell the matron all, and also that
you invited me to go to a hotel^under your name."'
That threat made the man strong again.
"I see now how it is, Kwama," he said, "and I
thank God that He has made me pause ere I did
this grievous sin. You know you are beautiful,
my child, and the longing has come to you to go
into the world and exert that beauty on men. But
in your innocence you know nothing about the manner of life that is the only one open to such as you.
You make a false start at the beginning with me.
Can you think it possible that the people here would
believe that I, a missionary, would have taken you
to wife? Our world is very small, and I am
known to be married. It will be for your own good
if you remain in this home and fit yourself to be-
come a teacher among your own people, an instrument in the hands of God to lead them to the true
religion.    I deeply repent of the course I have
I
i« IfllTf
ml
if
m
;
52
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
taken; will not you do the same and agree to what
say
?»
Looking at his earnest face, Kwama knew she
had failed at the very beginning; that the time had
come to dissemble. She had no intention of ever
returning to her native village as a teacher, but she
.appeared to give in, and said:
"It shall be as you wish."
So the Rev. Mr. Thompson left her in the hands
of the matron and returned home. He had the
problem to face whether he should make a full confession or not to his wife. He decided, after a
long struggle, to keep the secret locked in his own
breast, but to give her a life-long devotion to make
up to her in every way possible for his previous
neglect, and for the cares he had brought upon her.
The first thing he did was to resign his mission.
He knew the work was too hard for her and the
isolation too terrible. He took her back to Ontario,
where he entered city work.
And she was happy again.
But before he left Victoria for the East he enquired of the matron about Kwama. He learned
that she had refused to stay in the Girls' Home,
and had been taken up by a well-known man about
town.
He bore the burden of that sin through many
years, but when he died his wife said of him that
no better husband ever breathed on this earth.
As for Kwama, her end was in the Potter's
Field.
j\ And   Other   Stories.
S3
1
"SILVER JACK.
99
Just why he was called "Silver Jack" nobody
in the camp knew. He came to Kaslo in the first
rush to the "Silvery Slocan," and, knowing gambler that he was, he left before the bottom dropped
out of silver, and the eight-hour strike did away
with the payroll. In some respects, indeed, the
name was inapplicable, for he was no friend of
16 to 1, he never read a speech of Bryan's, while
"cross of gold" hysterics didn't appeal to him half
so much as a woman's tears.
A mining camp in British Columbia is much the
same as one in any part of the Western States,
save that weapons are conspicuous by their absence.
On British soil revolver play doesn't pay—which
is one reason why the Kaslo undertaker went into
the furniture business.
"Other folk won't die and I must live," he explained apologetically.
To-day Kaslo is as quiet a place as a Young Women's Christian Association boarding house, but
in the early nineties it was a noisy, godless town,
with the lid lost somewhere in the clouds among
the mountains. Tents and shacks straggled all
over the flat on Kootenay Lake, upon which it was
built, and the river ran through its centre. Now
that busy, ever-talking stream marks the northwestern boundary of the town.    That stormy night,
\/I 54
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
when the river changed its course, Silver Jack
proved that he was something more than a gambler.
Jack had once, in the intervals between poker
and black jack, tried to earn a living running a
weekly newspaper in a little Washington town. He
found that it was a good way in which to starve
decently. Moreover, the vein on the mine he was
industriously booming petered out, and as he did
not believe in getting widows and clergymen to
invest in barren rock, he sold out the paper and
went back to cards.
"Mining's a gamble too," he used to say, "and
I don't see why there need be any cheating. There's
no marked cards and no dealing from the bottom
of the pack when I play," from which it will be
gathered that he was too good to live in Seattle.
He used to lounge into my office in Kaslo sometimes, when he knew we were short-handed, and
set up a little type. "Oh, it's just to keep my
hand in," he would say if I tried to thank him.
"Come out for a walk, old man," he remarked
one night as he dropped into the office just as the
mail sack was being closed up and the big edition
of 500 copies of the local paper was off my mind for
a week. We took our way up the side of the hill
that formed a background to the camp. Surely in
no other part of the world are the nights so beautiful as in the mountains of British Columbia. Arrived at the summit we turned to gaze upon the
scene beneath. The town in the moonlight looked
like the bivouac ground of an army—and so it was,
but the army was composed of fun-loving, card-
liking,  whiskey-drinking miners,  intent on cap-
iii And   Other   Storie
s.
55
turing the riches of the Slocan by day and spending at night the wealth so obtained on wine, women
and cards. Rough and unpolished as most miners
are, who can help but love these pioneers of civilization? Think of the lives they lead, far from
the home of their vouth and the first friends of
their manhood; think of the lack of gentle influence, and then remember the services they render
to the State up there in the everlasting hills, and
you, too, must admit that they are men to be proud
of. They have their faults, who has not? But
they are chiefly faults of the head, not of the
heart. Who cannot forgive their vices? Their
sins are of the same character as those perpetrated
in the cities, the chief difference being that the
miner performs his openly while the dweller in the
city gets behind curtains, and thinks that he is not
as the poor sinner yonder.
Beneath the star-spangled heaven Kaslo was a
city of peace that night. Up on the hill we could
hear none of its noise, no oaths polluted the pine-
scented air. Kootenay Lake, calm as the face of
a Sister of Mercy, spread out from the camp like
a black velvet train studded with diamonds. The
only sounds were the constant roar of the river
and the never-silent talk of the forest.
"Silver Jack" aroused me from my reverie.
"Does the river not sound a warning to you?"
he asked suddenly. "Is not that a dirge it is singing on its way to the lake ?" His hand, which felt
a little unsteady, was upon my shoulder. "I am
afraid of that river," he went on. "How harmless it looks to-night, like a silvered ribbon on a
woman's sleeve.    But these mountain streams are
A
»
i $6
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
H
m
constantly changing their course. If the Kaslo
River ever gets into flood I know it will carry
D Avenue out into the lake."
"Well, what if it does, old boy ?" I asked. "For
my part I think that would be a very good job—
unless you own some of those red-light shacks upon
the street."
"Don't make light of the matter, please," he
said very quietly.    "The woman I love lives there."
I had blundered on to a tragedy. But I knew
enough to hold my tongue.
"I can't bear to hear a man speak lightly on
that subject," he went on after a pause. "These
women have souls, remember that. Moreover, don't
forget, when you listen to the denunciation of the
preachers, that a man is generally responsible for
each woman who has to choose a home in the red-
light district."    He paused again.
"You know Black Jess, of course," he went on
suddenly.
I could not repress a start even under his hand.
She was the most notorious woman in Kootenay,
and the most beautiful.
"Ah, I see you do," he went on without my answering by word of mouth. There seemed to be
tears in his voice. "She was the daughter of a
clergyman back in the Eastern States. We lived
in the same town, and were to be married. A fellow from New York came down one day, was smitten with her wonderful beauty, enticed her with
his cursed gold and jewelry, and—well, the rest is
easy to imagine. But I feel as bitterly towards
that man to-day as I did five years ago. I hear
has followed her to Kaslo," he added.
V     ■ And   Other   Stories.
57
"Jack,  you  wouldn't-
99
I was beginning,
when he interrupted me.
"Never fear, my boy," he said. "I wouldn't
stain my hand with the blood of such a wretch,
but I mean to prevent him having anything more
to do with Jess. Moreover, I am still as determined as ever to rescue her from this life. Time
and again I have asked her to be my wife, and on
every occasion she has refused. But I believe that
before a month is out she will at last give in to
me; but I must keep this scoundrel away from her.
If she se#s him again she will waver. To me she
is just as pure to-day as when I wooed her. Ohr
yes, I can shut out the past. A bold thing to say.
But you cannot have loved as I love Jess! The
attitude of vice she puts on, just as she would don
a gown, is not natural to her. She does it to keep
up the character she was forced into when that
fellow mislead her. But enough of that. How that
river has acted on my nerves. Come on," he continued, with a marvellous change of voice and manner, and with his feelings again under control,,
"let's go down town and join the black jack gang.
You can be extravagant for once."
Billy Jackson's saloon on Front Street, where
the big play went on nightly, was a low-lying, one-
story building, with many and remarkable means
of egress. Besides the front door there were contingency doors, not much used at the time of which
I write, because Kaslo was wide open then. The
barroom, with its long mirror and complacent
studies in the nude, was just like any other in the
West. As we entered we had to pass a man who
was leaning on the polished counter in an attitude
j 58
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
H
of dejection. He had found "Lardeau Jack" more
than a match for him at poker, and the drink he
had evidently just gulped down was like the tin-
roof cocktail—"on the house."
It seemed to me that the stranger tried to brace
up as "Silver Jack" eyed him, but he collapsed
again as my companion passed into the black jack
room without speaking to him. I paused at the
bar to get a whiskey sour—Jack did not drink.
■"I can't afford it in my business," he told me
once.
Having invited the stranger at the bar to "get
in," he took advantage of the opportunity to say,
as he put his glass down:
"Has 'Silver Jack' got any money?"
As I asked myself who could be this man who
talked so familiarly of my friend, my mind went
back to the talk on the mountain, and it came to
me in a flash that this must be "the man from
New York." As I compared the bloated, fat and
greasy-looking lounger who had betrayed Jess,
with the active, distinguished-looking man who had
chosen to become a gambler and a wanderer from
mining camp to mining camp, I could not help
wondering at the curious contrariness of women.
Of course I forgot that, at the time when Jess had
preferred this fellow to Jack, he must have appeared to her the gallant of the great city. In
working the ruin of Jess he had also encompassed
his own moral death.
I went into the gambling room without answering
his question. At the moment I opened the door
from the bar someone  slipped  out  at the  back
ll: M
J
And   Other   Stories.
59
of the card room. A gust of wind rattled both
doors to with an ominous sound.
"The wind is coming down the divide with a G—
d— clatter to-night," commented a bearded miner
on the right of the dealer.
"Well, if it doesn't blow me a black jack it won't
blow me any good," said the latter, as no individual
expressed a desire to be "hit."
The dealer looked at his cards and found himself with fifteen. He dealt himself an ace, hesitated, then turned another card.    It was a 6.
"Well, 21's good enough," he said, as he raked
in all the money on the table save that of "Silver
Jack," whose stake he doubled, for my friend held
z, queen and an ace, and decided to take the deal.
He was just in the middle of his first shuffle when
a door was violently flung open, and a shout was
heard:
"The river's rising, the bridge has went," we
heard, and, regardless of grammar the owner of the
voice rushed to the next saloon to spread the doleful tidings.
"Silver Jack" was the first man to reach the
street. The river even then covered a quarter of
a mile at its mouth in place of the few feet which
had marked its boundaries the previous night. I
swiftly ran in the direction of D Avenue, knowing that the gambler was sure to make his way
there also. But progress was soon impossible.
Where the avenue had been but a short time before, the angry mountain stream now swept with
a force already sufficient to cut a new bed through
the centre of the town.
Above the whistling of the wind I heard the
91 jji
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60 The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
sound of a piano.    It came from the direction of
the lake.
"Good God," exclaimed Jack, who turned up
at the moment, "Jess is afloat in her house. No>
other woman would have the nerve to play her own
funeral march."
The flood had swept all the boats from the waterfront.    But that did not daunt the lover.
"Come with me," he shrieked so as to be heard
above the sound of the gale and the roar of the
waters.
We made our way through the storm to
the foot of the hill, and from there took our way
down the slanting road to the mill in a secluded
bay. There we found a boat. It took us but a
minute to launch it, for the storm had not reached
this backwater. Once out in the main lake a terrific battle commenced. How we lived through it
I do not know. What before I had thought of as
"a woman's train studded with diamonds" had
taken on life and semblance of a woman scorned.
Lake and river combated, and it seemed as if the
prize for which they strove was that frail shack
which contained Black Jess. Kaslo River rushed
roaringly into its enemy until its influence could
be felt half way across the lake. The sound of the
angry waters was taken up in the mountains and
echoed in many a cunning cave and curious hollow.
A man who came over the St. Mary's divide a day
or two later told me that the Sound of the conflict
struck terror into his heart, and he, having found
religion, expected to find Kaslo. like Sodom. As
a matter of fact, on the day of his arrival, the sun
shone brilliantly on the tented scene, and. nature
e And   Other   Stories,
61
was as smilingly radiant as any city Venus after a
bath.
To us in that small boat, it became a question of
saving our own lives as well as of reaching the
floating house which carried the disheveled love of
the gambler. The coolness of "Silver Jack," the
strength of his arm, and that undying love saved*
us from destruction that night. Had we given in*
for an instant, had one base thought to go back
been entertained for a moment, Kootenay Lake*
would have wrapped us in its ice-cold shroud.
At last we reached the house on the waters, and
I wondered how we were to board it. A horrible
voice from the shack called to us that if we tried to
get aboard a bullet would end our lives. I recognized the tones as those of the man who had been
in the barroom. Jack was rowing stroke, but
though his back shivered, his arm was none the less
powerful, and he took no notice of the threat. A
shot was heard. For a moment I wondered where
I had been hit and why it was I was still able to
pull. Then I found that no bullet had come near
me.
The problem of how to get on to the house was
solved by an eddy, which took us out of the fury
of the lake and deposited us on a sand spit in front
of Beautiful Falls, which, I strangely noticed,
musically plashed amid the din of the storm. Tying the boat to a fallen tree, we got on to the house
and entered the sitting room. It was empty. The
shack seemed unnaturally silent after the storm
without and the sound of the piano was still in our
ears.   Jack leading, we went into the bedroom, pre-
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62
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
u
pared for every emergency but the one we had to
face.
On the bed was the lifeless form of the stranger,
and beneath was the seemingly dead body of Black
Jess. The gambler flung the body of his enemy
to one side, and it huddled in the corner, looking
like a mass of clothes propped at curious angles.
As Jack took the form of Jess in his arms, she
opened her eyes.
"Thank heaven," was his fervent exclamation.
I thought he had killed you," he said.
"Ah, no," she answered weakly, "it was I who
shot him. When he made that threat to kill you
I seized the gun, and, scarcely knowing what I
was doing, pointed it at him. When I heard the
shot I fainted, and his body must have fallen
across me. But, Jack, how glad I am that you
were not drowned. I was in such terror when I
saw you coming across the lake to save me. I am
yours now, dear Jack, for ever/? she said, and
.about that time I thought that a view of Beautiful
Falls by moonlight all alone was about the best
thing for me.
I And   Other   Stories.
63
THE CULTUS TRADER.
Siwash Jim serves King Edward. "The Great
White Mother sleeps," said he. "Siwash Jim and
Chief Dick now take orders from Edward Rex."
It was characteristic of Jim that he placed himself before Chief Dick. Jim is the policeman at
the Indian rancheree, near Vancouver, and he
serves the blue papers headed "Edward Rex,"
which Chief Dick only signs.
In front of the residence of Siwash Jim is a
huge totem pole. In the evening, when he begins
to feel lonely, Jim returns to the bosom of his
family; in other words, he communes with the
totem pole, for upon it, in many a fantastic curve,
is written the history of his forebears. Jim is not
able to transcribe that part of the pole which tells
of the family relations previous to the landing of
Captain Cook at Nootka in 1778. Whether his
ignorance is real or assumed I have not yet been
able to fathom, but this much is pretty certain, the
history was written in a bloody writing.
One day when Jim was in a particular good humor, he asked me to come and sit beneath the totem
and drink in the glories of the past. I thought it
an excellent chance to hear a chapter from the
totem pole.
"You would like to hear something of Jim's Ill
m
64
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
history," he remarked, in answer to my question.
"The war fever is in your blood," he went on, "and
you cheer the men who go fight the Boers, so I
will tell you the story of the man who levelled his
sukwalal (gun) at the Hyas Tyee (Sir James
Douglas, Governor of Vancouver Island in the
fifties) in the days of my father.
"Your Douglas was made Hyas Tyee over all
the land by the Great Mother, who sleeps at Windsor, over there beyond the mountains where the
railway runs. My father was then chief of the
Cowichins.
"There came among us a white trader. He was
peshak (bad) at heart. We called him cultus,
which in your way of speaking, is worthless. He
sought to exchange firewater for furs. One of our
young braves had a valuable otter skin which the
white man wanted. But Qualichin did not love
whiskey, and he intended the skin for Mowasa, a
beauty of the tribe.
"One night, while Qualichin was sleeping, the
trader came to his tent to steal the skin. Qualichin awoke just as the cultus man was escaping.
He cried to him to stop, but the white man ran on,
so Qualichin shot him. How could he help it if
the man was shot in the back? The white man
was running away. We tended the wound and
cured the trader, but he brought evil upon us by
reporting all manner of bad things to the Hyas
Tyee at Victoria.
"The great Governor believed the tales of the
trader, and he came up the coast in a Queen's
ship.    When at Saanich he sent for my father.
" 'Cowichin/ said he, 'you have a young man in And   Other   Stories.
s
65
your tribe whose hands are stained with blood of a
white trader. You must give him up for trial
at Victoria.'
"My father was overcome with grief. He
knew that the trader was a liar, but he knew also
that the Sons of the Mother stand by each other
through good or ill.
" 'We are the servants of the great White
Mother/ he answered, 'but the white trader must
have lied to you.' And he drew himself up as if
naught but truth was spoken by one of our tribe.
(Jim told me, in strict confidence, that there were
some rogues among the Cowichins as among the
Songhees, their natural enemies.)
"My father," continued Jim, "told the Governor
that the trader came as a thief to steal, and that
Qualichin shot to save his property.
" 'He must be given up to justice/ replied the
Governor. 'I myself will take him to Victoria
and see that he has fair trial.'
"My father sighed. He was well aware that
Qualichin would never come back from Victoria
without the mark of the skookum house (prison)
upon him.    He asked for time to consider.
"The White Tyee was always fair to his opponents, and he granted the request. That night
there was a great talk among the Cowichins. The
young among the tribe were for a fight, but the
elders pointed out that there were guns on the
Queen's ship in the bay, and men in blue and leggings who never missed when they shot.
"Qualichin ended the talk by saying: 'I shall
give myself up to the White Chief in the morning,
but to-night I would be with Mowasa.' if-     I  i
J I
I
66
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
I
«r
fThe morning dawned, and the Governor appeared.
" 'Cowichin/ he commanded, and there was
that in his voice which made even my father
tremble, 'bring out your prisoner.'
"But the spirit of our ancestors was with my
father yet. He looked at the Governor, and there
was grief and lofty purpose in his kindly eyes.
"The men from the war vessel were as stones of
blue.
" 'Do not ask it, Governor,' he replied. 'I cannot give him up.'
"The Governor lifted his hand, and the stone
monuments took on life. They marched in front
of us and stood with guns ready at the shoulder.
"Our tribe had weapons, we outnumbered the
men from the ship. But what was our skill to
theirs, our discipline to the machine! (Jim was
there in the spirit as he was telling me the story.)
For a few moments it looked as if Cowichin River
was to run red, when Qualichin stepped forward.
The light of the mad was in his eye. He held a
Hudson Bay gun in his hand. Mowasa was nowhere to be seen.
" 'I will go to the White Chief,' he said.
"He walked slowly towards Governor Douglas.
Half way he got, then, quick as a flash, he raised
his weapon and pointed it at the Tyee. He pulled
the trigger.    The gun missed fire.
"Governor Douglas made no sign. He was a
brave man. But my father was as one who was
mad. Treachery of the kind was unworthy the
Cowichins. Better a year in the skookum house
than that. TB
And   Other   Stories.
67
"He ordered Qualichin to be seized in order that
he might be bound and handed over to the ship's
men. The White Chief stood by calmly. It was
as if he was in the fort at Victoria under the protection of the guns of the Great Mother.
"Qualichin was bound, and my father himself
handed him over to the whites for trial. Treachery
deserved death, and Qualichin was hanged to a tree
in front of the whole tribe.
"The maidens went to comfort Mowasa. They
found her in Qualichin's tent with Qualichin's
hunting knife in her heart/
99 kM
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68
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
THE PASSING OF CALLICUM.
f(A Story showing how Spain lost British America.)
Lord of Burrard Inlet in 1790 was Callicum.
T$ig and broad was he, as was the acreage over
which he hunted. Red was his color, and rare
were his attainments—for an Indian of that day.
Siwash Jim can trace his descent back to Callicum, even as the Champion of the King can produce a chart showing how he is descended from one
who came over the English Channel with William
of Normandy. And the Siwash is as proud as any
champion when it comes to ancestry.
But Siwash Jim is lord only of a whitewashed
shack and a few lots. "The white men were ever
land grabbers," he says.
What were the happy hunting grounds of Callicum are to-day the city of Vancouver, and the
municipalities of North and South Vancouver.
Callicum passed from this earth in a violent manner, and to the everlasting disgrace of Spain. But
the passing was big with results.
The Pacific coast is a history book, and he who
runs may read a little of the romance of its transformation from a forest to the halfway house of
empire. The very air of the Canadian coast is redolent   of   Cook   and  Mackenzie   and  Vancouver, And   Other   Stories.
69
while even to what is now United States territory
the glamor of British enterprise clings. A British
naval officer gave his name to Puget Sound, while
Mt. Baker, which towers above the State of Washington, owes its cognomen to one who came out with
Vancouver in the troublous times at the end of the
seventeenth century.
Captain James Powell, of His Majesty's survey
ship Egeria, looked upon the receding Terminal
City from the deck of the Empress of India. The
White Liner was slowly steaming towards the Narrows, which divide Burrard Inlet from the Gulf of
Georgia. Captain Powell was on furlough and
was en route to China. As he stood on the deck
of the Canadian Pacific liner he presented a notable
figure. That he was a Britisher was evident at the
first glance. But there was a gracefulness about
him which called for a second glance, and which
told also of Southern blood. A pretty American
tourist was heard to remark that he reminded her
of a gallant Spaniard she had met in Madrid. It
was not of the city of Vancouver that the attractive captain was thinking, but of a. fair Spanish
girl whose features were displayed in the ancestral
hall in Kent.
At Point Gray his great-grandfather had won
that lovely girl in 1792, and it was Point Gray that
loomed yonder.
"Do you think there will be war?" questioned
one merchant of Cheapside of another in 1790.
"I do not; I think Spain will back down," was
the answer.    "She has no real excuse to offer for
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The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
her highhanded action at Nootka, in capturing that
British merchant vessel."
"But can you tell me where Nootka is?" asked
the first merchant.
"You must excuse me, but I have an appointment," said the other, as he hurried away. From
which it will be seen that Englishmen were not
better acquainted in those days with the Pacific
coast than they are to-day.
Spain in 1790 was no more prepared for war
with Great Britain than she was to meet the
United States one hundred years later, after the
blowing up of the Maine. Fortunately for His
Catholic Majesty, the struggle was averted, Spain
agreeing to make reparation, and acknowledging
Great Britain's right on the northwest coast of
America. King George sent an expedition to
Nootka under Captain Vancouver, and British
Columbia had a beginning. 'That expedition represented a penny of Empire in comparison with the
vast sums which have been spent in building and
maintaining the newer Britains which line the
shores of the Seven Seas. But that penny is yielding compound interest in pounds. v
On Captain Vancouver's ship, the Discovery,
was a Lieutenant Powell. In 1790 the vessel entered Burrard Inlet, and one June day anchored
near Point Gray. There were two Spanish vessels
there.
"It gives me great pleasure to welcome you," remarked the Spanish captain to the Englishman.
"I may say, however, that at Nootka the fleet
awaits you."
So Captain Vancouver continued his journey to "1
And   Other   Stories.
71
where were three Spanish frigates and a brig. This
latter, the Active, flew the broad pennant of Senor
Don Juan Francisco de la y Bodega Quadra. **r*^
And at Nootka, where the Active lay, the Powell
romance commenced.
Lieutenant Powell was the first English naval
officer to step ashore from the Discovery,
"I am sent," said he, with a bow to Senor Quadra, "to inquire if a royal salute to the fiag would
be accepted?"
"It will afford me great pleasure to exchange
compliments with the noble captain," was the gallant reply.
As he passed back to his boat the Englishman
noted among the household of Senor Quadra, a
maiden of rare beauty. For many months Lieu-
tenant Powell had seen no white woman, and the
glory of this bud of Spain captivated him at first
sight. Isabel de Alva was of the seductive type of
woman.
Rose colored was the report of the susceptible
lieutenant to his captain. He dilated upon the
courtesy of Senor Quadra, but he said nothing of
the maiden. j
"We are to settle this question amicably," said'
Captain Vancouver to the Spaniard, "so shall we,1
as a start, name this island by our joint names ?" £i
"By all means let it be Vancouver and Quadra
Island," returned the Senor. "And why not, captain, have an exchange among our officers so that
they may have a chance to get acquainted while
the surveys are being made."
"An excellent plan," warmly replied Captaiir
Vancouver.
I ff
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72
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel.
And thus it was that Lieutenant Powell found
himself on the Prlncessa and learned that Isabel
was to make a tour of the island on the vessel.     p|
In that island-encircling trip England fixed her
stamp upon the Pacific coast of Canada and Spanish sovereignty hopes found a grave beside a murdered chief.
When the Princessa rounded the south of the island her commander decided to visit the brigs at
Point Gray. There was an Indian settlement on
the shore where dwelt Chief Callicum.
Upon the arrival of the Princessa, Callicum, his
wife and child, put out in a small canoe with fish
for the officers. A Spanish subaltern would not
allow them to pay their respects to the commander,
and roughly took their fish away. The commander
was drinking in his cabin while the Northwest Empire of Spain was passing away.
"Peshak, peshak," (bad, bad), remarked Callicum. -^o-rr**1'!*^
Spoken in the peculiar clicking tongue of the
natives, the words sounded harsher than they were.
The reckless young Spaniard seizedva musket from
a sailor and shot Callicum. The body fell over the
side of the canoe into the sea.
"You young fool!" exclaimed Powell, as he
snatched the musket from the Spaniard before he
could do further harm. "That is how you destroy
your Empire."
Isabel came on the deck at the moment, and
Powell gently explained to her the cause of the
trouble.
"How terrible," said she. "Our nation is so
hasty.    And what a blow to that poor woman," for And   Other   Stories.
73
the chief's wife had broken into wild lamentation.
The woman and her child were taken ashore by
native friends who witnessed the inhuman crime.
Powell went below, and shortly afterwards the relatives of the murdered chief ventured to the Spanish ship to beg permission to search for the body
beneath the vessel. The murderer was still on
duty, and cruelly refused until the afflicted red-
men had collected a number of valuable skins as a
ransom for the corpse. The body was found and
the skins paid over.
That night a council of war was held.
When news of the further outrage was given to
Powrell he sought the Spanish commander.
"Sir," said he, indignantly, "do you not know
that your men are assaulting the glory of Spain?
Acts like those committed to-day kill your sovereignty. Moreover, are you prepared for reprisals ?"
"Pooh, pooh, my dear lieutenant," replied the
commander, "you take this little matter too seriously. Such affairs are unfortunate, but how
small!    Why trouble about them?"
"But, sir, you do not know the nature of these
Indians. Have you doubled the watch? They
are sure to attack us."
"Nonsense, lieutenant, they will not dare. They
fear us too much," was the captain's reply. "You
are new on this coast, allow us old-timers to know
a little more than you." He spoke with ill-concealed contempt.
"If not for your crew's sake, sir, then for that
of the Senorita Isabel, I ask you to strengthen
fi 74
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
\H
the guard for the rest of our stay here," said the
Englishman.
"Ah! lies the land that way, lieutenant ?" tauntingly asked the Spaniard.
Sir," rejoined the Englishman, haughtily, "this
is no time for talk of that character; look after
your ship/' and Powell turned on his heels.
"The young cub, so he loves the daughter of the
admiral. These dogs of Englishmen look high/'
muttered the commander. But he gave no orders
for more security.
The night passed quietly, save for the wailing of
the women on the shore. If the Spaniards had felt
any alarm, it vanished with the dawn. They had
not seen the braves in council.
But Powell was still worried. He looked for an
attack next evening. When night arrived he was
detailed at the commander's dinner table. He was
very uneasy, but after the manner of his reception
when he gave warning, he could not bring himself
to mention the subject again.
The Senorita loved to walk on deck at nighttime, and give herself entirely to the silence. In a
new country the absolute stillness after dark is all-
possessive. As Isabel sat watching the stars a
couple of canoes put out from the village. She
did not see them; she was gazing westward to the
far east. Stealthily half a dozen Indians boarded
the Princessa, They had seen that there was only
the subaltern and one sailor on deck with the girl.
All three were seized before they could utter any
alarm. As quietly as they came the canoes went
back to land.
The absence of the subaltern was discovered when
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And   Other   Stories.
75
the watch—if watch it could be called—was
changed. The officer who came to relieve him
called the commander, who ordered all hands on
deck, and also sent for Isabel. When her loss was
discovered, he cursed his luck for not taking the
Englishman's advice.
"It is useless doing anything till morning," said
the commander.
Lieutenant Powell chafed at the delay. At daybreak he aroused the commander and asked to be
put in charge of the search party. The request
was agreed to. Selecting a dozen of the most
likely Spaniards, he made his way to the shore and
found the camp deserted. The Indians had retreated to the primeval forest; pathless to whites,
the home of reds. There were, however, evidences
of the route taken by the Indians, and Powell and
his men followed them up for the day.
When night came the Englishman realized the
foolhardiness of the enterprise, but what man of
Kent in his position would have abandoned it?
None, though the little party was in the midst of
the forest; shut out from the sea, perhaps with foes
all round.
"I cannot let the Senorita be carried away without an effort to save her," said he to his men. "You
know the danger; will you stand by me?"
"We will, sir," they answered. They spoke as
Englishmen, because they liked the northerner who
was leading them.
At the dawn they started again, and somewhat
to their surprise, and rather to their dismay, came
upon the redskins in an hour. The natives were
expecting them, and were drawn up by hundreds in
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76
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
a clearing. They knew all about the pursuit; they
could have annihilated the party in the night. But
there was a noble sensibility among those woodmen.
Callicum had drilled into his tribe generous and
hospitable ideas, and the example of the murdered
man was still strong.
"It would be useless to fight this horde," the
lieutenant said. "I must try to induce them to
peacefully give up the captive."
But there was one man that would never return
to the Princessa,
Bound to a tree, with a dozen arrows in the
body, was all that was mortal of the unhappy subaltern. It was easy for the lieutenant to obtain the
return of the Senorita and the sailor. His joy at
the fact was unclouded by the death of the Spaniard.
"The fool deserved it," he told his brother officers, when the Princessa returned to Nootka, and
Powell was retelling the story the night before he
was married to Isabel by the father confessor of
Senor Don Juan Francisco de la y Bodega Quadra.
It is over a century now since the flag of Spain
has implied any ownership in the land which to-day
is British Columbia.
Esai And   Other   Stories.
77i
A HUDSON'S BAY COMPANY PIG.
[Note to American readers: This, of course, is
an entirely Canadian view of a now settled boundary question.]
Great Britain and the United States nearly
went to war because of a pig. It was really a valuable porker—a Berkshire with a pedigree as long
as that of a Derby winner. It certainly proved
costly to Britain for, between it and the Emperor
of Germany, England lost its title to the island of
San Juan, which British Columbia to this hour
thinks should be a part of it. Americans and
Britishers know little about Canada, even to-day,
though much is heard of an American "invasion"
of the Dominion, and though the British are always talking about "that loyal colony, Canada."
Not one out of a hundred is aware of what the San
Juan dispute was over. While Americans may
read a brief reference to the matter in their school
histories it is certain that the English do not, so
they cannot understand how surprised the people
of British Columbia were when Emperor William I.
handed the island over to the United States. Here
is the story just as it came from the lips of an old-
timer. It is right that both British and Americans
should read it; the former, that they may obtain
some idea of how the early settlers worked for the li
78
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
Empire, the latter, that they may the better understand the attitude of their neighbors when such
matters as the Alaska boundary come up for settlement.
"Yes, sir," said the old-timer, "it was a pig that
lost us San Juan Island, leastways the pig and the
German Emperor. The one would go rootin'
around Lyman Cutler's garden, thinking all the
time it was Hudson's Bay Company ground—as it
was, mind yer; t'other had a sort of Alverstone affection for the United States, I s'pose—one can't
account for the bloomin' decision otherwise. However, both pig and Emperor are dead now. Bless
me, but pigs and kaisers do cause a lot of disturbance while they're alive, don't they now? If I
was in Germany I s'pose they'd have me up for
whafs that they call it? Yes, lese majeste.
Sounds queer, don't it?
"Of course you ain't like the rest of those ignorant Britishers, sir, who don't know where San
Juan Island is. It's one of those little islands in
the Straits of Fuca, not far from Victoria. They
do say that the trouble between Britain and America over that island was chiefly fomented by an
officer from the Southern States in the hope that
the two countries would get fighting. That's as
it may be. I'm in a position to take niy affidavy
that the pig started it. You know, being a man
who has read history besides that given in the books
at home, that San Juan Island was occupied by
the Hudson's Bay Company in 1843, and the
United States didn't care a continental about it in
those days, being otherwise strenuously engaged.
The Hudson's Bay Company owned most of the r
And   Other   Stories.
79
earth hereabouts for a good many years until
Uncle Sam had a few moments to spare—then he
kept shoving the company northwards. As for
Downing Street, it didn't care a damn about the
island at any time, though it so bravely wrote that
*the Government, under any circumstances, must
maintain the right of the British Crown to the
Island of San Juan.' A terrible lot of 'maintaining' it did. The company, Uncle, or the pig was
welcome to this cussed country, where 'the salmon
wouldn't rise to a fly.' And Uncle, he was mighty
cute when the proper time came for him to take
action. He fomented trouble, all the same Panama, and then stood back to see if any dust was
raised by Britain. But to Peel, Russell, Dizzy,
and all those Johnnies this was part of 'those
wretched colonies/ and Britain took to polite letter-writing. Do you notice how times have
changed? The 'damned colonies' have become
Mear daughter nations' now. It makes me tired. As
daughters we're giving away the same old dots to
Uncle Sam though, when he comes around as a
suitor. Maine, Washington, San Juan and Alaska
is a pretty good gift to anybody. You could stick
England in there and wonder where it had disappeared to."
"But it did pretty nearly come to a fight," I
hazarded.
"Sure, and that reminds me that I'm getting
away from that blamed old pig. The old fellow
came around the Horn on a Hudson's Bay sailing
ship. If he'd only been converted into pork on the
voyage we might have had San Juan Island yet.
He wasn't at all lonesome, that old porker, when I
8o
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
he got here. He found friends, descendants of the
first settlers in 1843. His year of arrival was
somewhere about 1858, and it was only four years
previous that Uncle Sam had started to look at San
Juan just like old Ahab did at Naboth's vineyard.
In the fifties the Hudson's Bay Company had what
the lawyer fellers describe as a 'right to the island
by occupation.' But Uncle Sam never did care a
whoopin' hell for such right. He got to crowing
about Lewis and Clark, and other coves who had
come across country after Mackenzie, Fraser,
Thompson, and other British fur-traders, had
shown them how to do it. Great men, those Americans are, to follow up the British, claim their
land and get it, too. Smart fellers, you bet. Why,
they're going to hold a Lewis and Clark exhibition
on ground that is British by rights and American
by gall.
"However, we've lost track of Mr. Pig again.
With its sheep and its horses and its pigs the
Hudson's Bay Company didn't want any Americans on San Juan Island. But it couldn't keep
'em off. Those chaps from the other side of parallel 49 have the ubiquity of the Scots. Go where
you will there's always an American. They
squatted on San Juan Island; didn't give a damn
for the H. B. C, no, nor for the Widow of Windsor. They didn't pay the H. B. C. anything, and,
mind you, they weren't any too anxious to cough
up the dues which a nervy United States Customs
Collector came over from Puget Sound and demanded in 1854.
"The Hudson's Bay Company gave that collector
a warm reception, let me tell you.    Agent Griffin 1
And   Other   Stories.
8r
quickly informed him that Old Glory didn't fly
over San Juan Island. You see he knew his facts
better than the old German Emperor, who afterwards dealt with the island. The Collector got
saucy when it was suggested to him that he had
better right about face, quick march, so Griffin
dropped a line to Governor Douglas at Victoria.
The old Governor was up to most American tricks,
you bet, and he went over to give the United States
Customs man some excellent advice, which, I regret to say, that gentleman did not take in good
part. Of course, what the Governor really told
him was to 'get the hell out of here/ but his words
were much more polite. The Governor never used
had language. What! never? did you ask? Well,
hardly ever. His nibs from Puget Sound went
back with a flea in his ear. He had the confounded
gall, however, to appoint a deputy collector and
issued a bold defi by saying: 'I place this man
here to represent the United States; it is to be seen
who will interfere with him in the discharge of his
lawful duties.' The British answer to that was
to hoist the Union Jack over the Hudson's Bay
quarters—mind you, those quarters had been put
up in 1843 and this was 1854. I must say that
Collector was a game old sport. He rushed to his
schooner and unfurled the United States revenue
flag. Old Begg relates the incident in that history of his. The Governor landed a boat's crew
from the Hudson's Bay steamer which had taken
him to the island, just as a British hint, you know,
and went back to Victoria. The American deputy didn't stay long. He met a few wild Indians,
and his hair stood on end.   He reasoned that if Hi- m
Jj|
82
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
he wanted to keep his scalp down, he'd better make
himself scarce. So he followed the Collector back
to Puget Sound. By the way, did you ever stop
to consider that Puget was the name of a British
naval officer? Sure.
"After that the whole tribe of United States Customs officials had it in for the Hudson's Bay Company. The Washington State Legislature passed
a farce, which it called an act, attaching San Juan
Island to Whatcom County, Wash. The Sheriff
of the county seized a number of Hudson's Bay
sheep—'on account of taxes/ he said—and sold
them by auction. The Hudson's Bay Company
put in a big bill for damages, but I never heard
that it got a cent. When it comes to settling that
kind of thing, there's nothing strenuous about your
Uncle. In order to be on the safe side, the Governor of Washington diplomatically disowned the
seizure and issued instructions to all territorial officers to abstain from acts 'calculated to provoke
conflict.' That was all a piece of the bluff, for
deputy collectors took quick turns on San Juan.
With them it was quickly come and swiftly go.
The Indians, who had no use for 'Boston men/
scared them all back. Then that bellicose patriot,
General W. S. Harney, took a hand in the game.
His experiences in 'suppressing' Indians, seemed,
as some Englishman said at the time, to make him
forget the lessons of international law he learned
at West Point and he engaged in 'improving' a
British colony off San Juan Island."
"But what about the pig," I ventured to ask
again. And   Other   Stories.
83
«rrr.
Well, mister, I'm really coming to that dog-
goned porker now," he replied.
"Before we reach the interesting period, suppose we drink a health to the great Anglo-Saxon
powers, Britain and the United States," I said.
"I'm with you," he replied, and we did.
"That pig, sir," went on the old-timer, "gave-
Harney his chance. That animal was not satis*
tied to root on the acres and acres of land which
the Hudson's Bay Company indisputably owned;,
it must poke its nose in an unenclosed patch which
Lyman A. Cutler claimed. The American became
the man behind the gun and Mr. Pig turned up
his toes. The agent of the company waited on
Lyman and demanded compensation. The American's reply was to threaten to shoot any other of
the company's stock which came on the ground
he claimed. That pig was more powerful dead
than alive. The company reported the affair to
Governor Douglas and the dogs of war were almost let loose; only the tact and forbearance of
Douglas prevented. The Governor made representation to the United States and Harney posted
to Victoria to take the matter up. The latter vis^
ited the island and received a petition signed by
Cutler and twenty others, claiming to be American citizens, demanding 'American protection in
our present exposed and defenceless position/ I'd
like to bet that Harney started the petition. At
any rate, it was just what he wanted. He acted
on it right away. He did not communicate with;
his commanding officer, nor with Washington, nor
with the British, he took matters into his own
hands and really courted war by sending a com- iff,
84
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
ti.«
pany of United States troops from Fort Bellingham
to occupy the island,—mind you, it was, nominally
at all events, British soil.    Captain Pickett was
in command of the Americans.    You will remember he afterwards became a general in the Southern army during the Civil War.    Pickett landed
despite the protests of the Hudson's Bay Company.
"It certainly looked like war now.     And   the
British Government at last rose to the occasion.
Fortunately it had a good man as the representative of the Crown in British Columbia.    It was
entirely due to the good judgment of Governor
Dougles that a collision did not occur.    Pickett,
when asked to withdraw, had replied that he was
merely acting under orders and would prevent any
inferior force landing, would fight any equal force,
and would protest against any superior force being landed.    The British at first desired to send
an equal force, so that they might see what Pickett
was made of.    A meeting took place between Captain Hornby, of H. M. S. Tribune and Captain
Pickett.    To the Britisher the American said he
'could not allow any joint occupation of the island
until so ordered by the commanding officer.'    He
asked him to wait till he could communicate with
General Harney, otherwise, he said 'the  British
would be bringing on a collision which could be
avoided by waiting the issue.'    It was a clever move
to place the blame on the other side.    It had its
effect in preventing a fight, but the British sent
the Plumber and the Satellite to join the Tribune.
Captain Pickett, brave man that he was, recognized
his hopeless position.    He wrote to Harney and
said the British 'have a force so far superior to And   Other   Stories.
85
mine, that it will be merely a mouthful for them/
and he asked for immediate instructions 'to prevent a collision.' He also said that he had 'endeavored to impress them with the idea that my
authority comes directly through you from Washington.' This attempt at deceit was unworthy so
brave a foe.
"Harney ordered reinforcements to be sent to
the island and meanwhile he and Douglas engaged
in correspondence which showed that the General
had acted on his own initiative, without the sanction of the President. When he found out that
the British force far outnumbered any he could
bring up he reported to Washington. The action
taken by the President must have surprised the
redoubtable warrior. Harney was superseded and
the President expressed to the British Minister
at Washington, Lord Lyons, 'regret and surprise*
at Harney's 'unauthorized and unjustifiable action.' I don't suppose any of the American histories mention that trifling circumstance. General Winfield Scott, Commander-in-Chief of the
United States army, personally took command and
arrived at Port Townsend on October 24, 1859.
He immediately wrote to Governor Douglas and
suggested joint occupation of San Juan until the
governments of the countries 'should have time to
settle this question diplomatically.' General Scott
reported to the President that the absence of a
collision had been due to British forbearance and
that Harney and Pickett were 'proud of their conquest of the island and quite jealous of the interference.'    Harney was recalled to Washington and
i^l The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
General Scott substituted Captain Hunt for
Pickett.
"The trouble between the North and the South
was now in full swing. Great Britain refrained
to press the San Juan difficulty on the United
States in its hour of difficulty, so the joint military occupation of the island continued till 1871.
In that year Emperor William of Germany agreed
to be arbitrator of the dispute. A year later he
gave his decision, which was wholly in favor of
the United States.
"How he arrived at his conclusions beats me,"
wound up the old-timer, "and that's why I say
that the blamed pig and the Emperor were responsible for the loss to Britain of San Juan Island." And   Other   Stories.
87
*kii
THE LONG ARM OF UNCLE SAM.
"Let us start a revolution. Funds are getting
low and a man must have money to live, even in
Panama," said Paul Hillard to Patrick Finton-—
soldiers of fortune were both.
"We live on our wits," replied Finton, "which
means more than the possession of filthy lucre. A1
man must have colossal check, a great face, a military chest, sound lungs and no heart to make a
livelihood out of his wits."
"And he must be an adept at pulling a leg, to
use one of your anatomical similes," put in his
friend.
"Well, there are a pair of them waiting to be
pulled; but talking of legs—pardon the expression
in this connection,—here come as pretty a pair of
ankles as I have seen for many a long day. How
one does miss New York on a rainy day."
"Ah, the Senorita Mercedes," said Hillard as the
prettiest girl in all Panama bowed to him. "May
I have the honor of presenting my friend, Senor
Patrick Finton, at one time a gallant Colonel in
the United States army?"
"And now yours to command, senorita," murmured the gallant Irish-American. The rascal always had a "divil of a way with the women."
"And how is my good friend the Senor Emile
Cartan ?" asked Hillard.
lMj father is very well, indeed, sir, and I be-
(c
j t 88
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
lieve, would like to see you. I heard him express
a desire that you should call. Some mail which
he received from Santo Domingo this morning
caused him considerable apprehension," the girl
said. "Oh, how I do detest the wretched politics
of this country," she added.
"My repugnance equals yours, senorita," remarked Hillard. "I shall do myself the pleasure
of calling on your father and, in my small way,
shall urge him to have nothing to do with politics."
"You will earn my gratitude, sir," she said,
•sweetly.
"Sly dog," laughed Finton, as the girl passed tm
her way. "But what can be the news from General Barancillo?"
"I must find out. You shall come with me to
see this ambitious Cartan. 'Tis he and the General who are to fill our depleted coffers. They
have designs on the Government. They would
make of Panama a separate Republic, with Barancillo at its head and Cartan as his chief adviser.
There would be a pot of money in it for gentlemen with the parts you so neatly described a few
minutes ago. But I fear that girl. Her father
makes too much of a confidante of her. She is
quite capable of giving everything away, from a
mistaken motive of doing her 'dear father' a good
turn. Why, she might even inform the United
States of a neat little plot I was about to tell you
of when she hove in sight. When I remarked
that we might start a revolution, I was in deadly
earnest. Now don't whistle like that, I don't like
it. Besides, such a sound expresses too much surprise and the streets have ears in Panama."
1 M
And   Other   Stories.
89
"All right, my boy, bring on your revolution, I'm.
with you. It seems to me there's more danger in
a tea fight than in a Central American revolution,
so my precious skin is not in danger," was the reply of the irrepressible Finton.
"Of course this Cartan pretends that he desires
to act solely 'for the good of my unhappy country';
they all do that. It is this canal business which ha&
set him by the ears. He is a strong friend of the
United States, to which we have the honor to temporarily belong, and, therefore, it is our bounden.
duty to aid him," pursued Hillard. "Now come
with me and I shall make you a deep-dyed conspirator."
The conference that afternoon at the house of
Emile Cartan was fraught with grave consequences,
not alone to Panama, but to the United States..
Though two of them knew it not the conspirators
were aiding the cause of Uncle Sam. His long
arm stretched out from Washington even unto
Panama.
As Hillard had said Emile Cartan leaned on his
daughter. 'She in her turn was glad at times to
lean on Mr. Montgomery Owen, the handsome sec-
retarv of the United States legation at Panama.
To his daughter, Mr. Cartan confided the chief
points of that afternoon's talk.
"My child," he said, "our unhappy country is
in dire straits. It is being sacrificed by the
Senate, which refuses to pass the canal treaty with
the United States. Our salvation lies in the canal
and it is time that men of honor in Panama took
the government into their own hands. Already
General Barancillo and myself have opened nego- ml It
a
E    It
1
it
90
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
tiations with the two Americans you saw here this
afternoon and we shall strike to be delivered from
the Colombian thrall."
"But, father, do you know enough of these two
men to trust your honor to them? I confess that
I like neither of them. They do not appear to
me to be true Americans like—like Senor Owen,
for instance."
"Ah, my child, I fear you are prejudiced in
favor of the Senor Owen. He has stolen your
heart, and it will be a sorry day for me when he
takes my pretty Mercedes to his country. Don't
blush, my dear. He has obtained my consent,
much as I shall be sorry to part with you. I have
hope that when all our troubles are ended he will
remain here as the representative of his great and
glorious country. But, with regard to our plans
for freedom. My two friends are going to San
Francisco. They have proved to me that they can
get much support there in the way of money, a
steamer and arms, which will enable us to strike
the great blow for freedom." I
This news made Mercedes very unhappy. "What
can I do to save my father," was her thought, and
naturally her American lover came into her calculations. She resolved to tell him all that she
knew.
In a few hours the news was on its way to Wash-
ington.
Some days later, Hillard and Finton, with well-
lined pockets, landed in San Francisco. They, too,
had been in communication with Washington, but
it was not to the White House that their letters
went.    They had revealed the plot to the repre- And   Other   Stories.
91
sentative of a certain European power which had
been unusually active among the Colombian lawmakers. That power thought it to be in its interests that the canal treaty should not go through.
When the couple from Panama stepped off the
gangplank of the mail steamer, they failed to notice a clerical-looking man who, however, quickly
sized them up as the pair he was waiting for. James
Gardner, of the United States Secret Service, always deplored that he had been cast in Sherlock
Holmes lines. His ambitions had been towards
the ministry, but he could not pass his examinations—which was a good thing for Uncle Sam, for
he had no more capable detective in his employ.
Probably the reason for Gardner's failure in the
one line and his success in the other, was that he
hated the study of books and rejoiced in the study
of man—-and woman. He possessed to an unusual
degree what may be called "the nose for crime."
When the two men from Panama called a hack
Gardner did the same thing, and as Hillard and
Finton had no idea that Uncle Sam was on their
trail, or knew anything about their movements, to
follow them was easy. After having seen to their
rooms and their baggage at their hotel, the two
conspirators were driven to a restaurant which
had been a favorite dining place of Hillard's in
days gone by. The manager effusively welcomed
him back to San Francisco, and, at his request,
conducted him and his friend to a snug room on
the first floor.
"Had walls tongues as well as ears, my dear
Finton, this room could many a tale unfold," said
Hillard. 92
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
M
1   8 %
wffl
mil
99
The manager retired and sent a waiter. When
the former reappeared downstairs, Gardner stepped
up to him.
"Let me see, I should know you very well,
remarked the detective. "Somehow or other you
are connected with my poor friend Don Jose Quadra, who was last seen alive here."
At this mention of a remarkable disappearance
which had afforded even San Francisco a nine-
days' wonder, the manager's face went a ghastly
yellow.
"Who are you? What do you want?" he exclaimed.
"Pray do not get excited, my friend," said Gardner. "Who I am need not trouble you just now.
I know a good deal about your concerns wThich you
would dislike to have made public. But I shall
not pursue so uninteresting a subject if you yield
to a trifling request of mine."
"What is it?" asked the manager, anxiously.
"Well, my friend, for certain causes which I
need not explain to you, I am interested in the two
visitors you just escorted upstairs. I desire to be
placed so that I may hear their conversation," said
the detective. "In a place so conveniently arranged as yours must be, I am certain there should
be no difficulty about that. And let me impress
this fact upon you, they must not know that anyone is keeping track of them. If they learn of
it, it will be only through you, and I need hardly
say that the consequences might be rather unpleasant for you."
"As you say, nothing is easier," lamely replied
the distracted manager, who was divided between And   Other   Stories.
93
fear of Gardner and a desire to have him thrown
out. He resolved that discretion was the better
part of valor and led the detective upstairs to a
little passage which ran between the private rooms.
Here was an easy-chair and a small table and the
detective was able to make himself comfortable
while hearing the story of the Panama conspiracy.
"It is here that we are to meet the agent of the
European, or rather let me say, our European Government," Gardner first heard Hillard remark. "In
speaking of 'our European Government/ I do so
with all modesty, knowing that it is the source of
much gold. Ah, Patrick, my boy, a little European gold goes a long way in one of the fiery republics, does it not? Your pocket replies for you.
I hear the chink now. Our milch cow will arrive
from Washington to-morrow. Between his Government and these ambitious Central Americans,
we should be able to lay by a goodly pile with
which to enjoy a winter in Paris and Monte Carlo.
How I long for the Bois de Boulogne and the
Casino. I have not seen them for five years. I
am getting rusty. What changes I shall see. And
you ? Do you not pine to see those charming Irish
girls again, to haunt the night clubs around Piccadilly Circus, to take a run down to Newmarket
or to Hurst Park and see an American horse win
the Derby? Patrick, what do they know of life
in this accursed country? Bah, I hate America^
whether it be North, South or Centra1.. And yet
it is from it that the dollars come. Make your
coin in America and spend it in Europe is the
twen-cent motto. Well, as soon as our dandy
comes from Washington, he will produce the dough
II
f The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
for us to purchase a steamer and arms and hire
a crew of cut-throats. Our passengers will all be
gentlemen desiring to get rich quick in Panama,
but Uncle Sam's curious customs officials will know
them only as tourists. Our new Panama cabinet
is all complete. General Barancillo is only too
eager to be President, for our good friend Emile,
there is the Department of the Navy, you, Finton, are to be Minister of War, while the Treasury department will be good enough for me. The
first act of the new Ministry, if I have any influence in it, will be to put through a canal bill inviting our distinguished European friends to take
up the enterprise. In that we shall meet the opposition of Monsieur Emile. But I have means
to get Barancillo on our side and the majority always rules, dear boy, at least in Central America. Then we shall obtain more of the filthy lucre
that makes the world go round, and I, for one,
shall shake the dust of Panama from what the
newspapers would call my immaculate patent leathers. I should be afraid of our dear enemy, Uncle
Sam, but he is so busily engaged vin the Far East
and in Cuba, that he seems to have no eyes for
what is going on under his nose.
"The conspirator proposes, but Uncle Sam disposes," thought Gardner to himself in the passage. "This jubilant plotter will find that the
long arm of Uncle Sam extends not only across the
Pacific Ocean, but down to Panama as well." And
he went off to report to Washington. In a few
minutes the State Department, by means of a
cipher telegram, had all the details of the conversation before it.    It was as if a phonograph had And   Other   Stories.
95
been sent from the private room of the restaurant
to the office of Secretary Shay. At the White
House, a plot within a plot was woven that afternoon.
When next Gardner found himself in the convenient passage, three gentlemen were under his
cynosure in the private room. Through a crack
the Secret Service man was easily able to recognize
the man who provided Hillard and Finton with
the sinews of revolution. It is unnecessary, for
the purposes of this narrative, to tell who was the
man, or what the nation he belonged to. He was
the power behind the scenes that made the marionette conspirators dance.
"My Government will not be slow to recognize
your valuable services, gentlemen," Gardner heard
him say. "As an earnest of its intentions, I have
here notes to the value of $50,000, which you will
expend in getting arms and hiring a steamer. When
you satisfy me that you are proceeding well to the
required end, more will be forthcoming. I will
give you the addresses of some of those who will
be passengers on the vessel."
While this meeting was in progress, Secretary
Shay and the President were in anxious conference at the White House. They received a tele-
gram from San Francisco giving them an account
of the gathering of the conspirators, the name of
the European agent—whom Gardner had met while
in Washington—in fact they knew as much about
the affair as did Hillard and Finton.
"We must avoid hurting the feelings of  ,"
said the President, naming the European power,
"and that means heroic measures in Panama."
i l 96
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
cc
\M
lilt
:Yes, there is only one step to be taken," returned the Secretary. "A peaceful revolution must
take place before these tinpot conspirators get
there with their steamer and arms."
"There will be a terrible outcry in the Democratic press," the President remarked. "But we
can afford to put up with that. We have faced
worse for the good of our country," and he smiled
grimly.
"I imagine that we shall read and hear a vast
deal about this 'bully of the American Government/ and about 'dragging the Monroe Doctrine
in the dust/ " said the Secretary. "The terrible
charge of encouraging the secession of the canal
state from 'the sister Republic of Colombia' will
be laid at our doors. What a howl the yellow press
will raise! I am certain, however, that the country will be with us when the truth is known. And
having put our hand to the plough we cannot turn
back. Already the Dixie and the Nashville are
on their way to Panama, and the Maine is under
orders to start at a moment's notice."
That evening a special messenger left the White
House carrying important documents to representative men in Panama. Therein the Secretary of
State laid bare as much of the San Francisco plot
as was considered necessary.
Meanwhile, at San Francisco, Paul Hillard, the
arch-conspirator, was energetically working to
carry out his contract with the European agent,
ignorant of the fact that the enterprise was doomed
from its very inception. A steamer which could
easily be converted into a small warship had been
secured and a band of adventurers was ready to 1
And   Other   Stories.
97
go aboard at a moment's notice. The expedition
was, indeed, all ready to sail when Hillard received
a telegram from the agent of the European power
as follows:
"Delay start.   Wait for letter."
So innocent a despatch gave no inkling at the
telegraph office as to the grave concern to which it
referred and the messenger boy who delivered it
must have wondered at the rage it put the recipient
in.
"The guy who got that message almost went
crazy," the boy cheekily said to the manager of the
restaurant. "Reckon his mother-in-law must have
recovered from a severe sickness."
To Finton the message was read and Hillard
said:
"This can only mean one thing, Washington
has got onto the job. Who the devil has been opening his damned mouth? I am perfectly certain
it is not Barancillo. It must have been either
Emile Cartan or that fool of an attache."
"What about Cartan's daughter? Perhaps she
has had a hand in the game," said Finton, and he
never knew how close to the truth he had come,
for had it not been for her first warning to her
lover, the plot might have been successful. "Well,
I s'pose there's only one thing to do," concluded
the Irishman, "and that is to cut and run. We
ought to be able to make a good pile out of the
bally warship. The European Government won't
want that now."
"And do you think I'm going to give up this
expedition just because that little fool at Washington says so?" asked Hillard.    "Not on your
Si
1
I m 1
w
98
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
life. There's more to be made out of running
down to Panama with the 'bally warship/ as you
call it, than selling it here. Why, it would only
fetch half what we gave for it. If you don't want to
go on with the thing say so and I'll run it myself.    For $10,000 I'll buy you out."
"Done!" cried Finton, as he thought of a little
girl at one of the variety theatres, with whom a
trip to Europe would be a veritable delight.
For the volatile Irishman the sum offered meant
six months of pleasure and he was prepared to
abandon anything for that. He lived only for the
moment. It was different with Hillard. His ambition was to make enough out of this revolution
to enable him to retire permanently to Europe.
Failure meant the blotting out of his ambitions.
His dreams of gold were not to be shattered by a
Western Union telegram.
"Well, good-bye, Pat," he said, "you've been
a good comrade and I'm sorry you can't stay by
the expedition to the last. This is my final throw,
and I mean to make it a good one. By getting
the steamer and arms to Panama I shall be able
to make enough to live in comfort for the rest of
my life. And I intend that the spondoolics shall
be mine."
That was the last Finton ever saw of Hillard.
A day or two later the latter sailed from San Francisco on his steamer Valencia, to make the bold
attempt on Panama. But he had failed to take
into account the long arm of Uncle Sam. Two
days after leaving the Golden Gate, the Valencia
sighted two United States warships which had
been on the watch for her.    Then, and not till then, And   Other   Stories.
y*i
99,
9»
did Hillard realize that he was "up against it.
He ordered the captain to respond to the signals
from the warships and himself went below. Shortly
afterwards an officer boarded the Valencia and
asked for Mr. Hillard.
"He is in his cabin, sir/' said the captain; "will
you kindly go below?"
"Have him come on deck at once," commanded
the officer.
The seaman who went to call Hillard returned
in a few moments. His face was white under the
tan and he stammered:
"He's killed hisself."
The officer went below. There he found Hillard
stretched across his bunk, dead. As soon as he-
saw the warships, Hillard had given up all hope
of making a fortune out of the Panama conspiracy.
He realized that the game was indeed up, as Pat.
had said, and rather than be taken hothanded, he
had cut his throat.
The body was committed to the deep and the
Valencia was ordered to return to San Francisco.
When it arrived there the newspapers were full
of a "bloodless revolution in Panama." A de facta
government had been formed, they said, in the
canal state, a Republic formally proclaimed, and,
most striking fact, the United States had immediately recognized the provisional administration
and welcomed the new Republic.
Those on board the Valencia kept close tongues.
How much they knew of the purposes of the expedition they declined to state to the curious reporters who put leading questions regarding their
sudden return. The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
Finton hurriedly left San Francisco and two
months later, when Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery
>wen were in Paris on their honeymoon, they
caught sight of him with a stylishly dressed American girl. Had the Owens been from San Francisco, they would have recognized in the latter a
well-known figure on the vaudeville stage. And   Other   Stories.
IOI
THE   ROMANCE    OF   THE   HAPPY
THOUGHT MINE.
In" these days the taint of commercialism is even
over Love, while beauty's voluptuous charms have
to take second place, not infrequently, to the stock
exchange. In the romance of the Happy Thought
Mine, however, both Bullion and Love have their
place. And considering that beauty set out to find
wealth and obtained it and a wedding ring, there
is not much to be said against the combination.
Love has a place in the ideals of many people where
mere money cannot enter. Some of those who still
have their ideals unsatisfied are married, and not
unhappily. Their true knight has not yet come
along, and they have had to be content with several thousand dollars a year. And really it is not
marvellous that they are satisfied to dream only
of the vision of their salad days, while they manifestly enjoy the dollars that the gods have bestowed
upon them. But all of this is outside the region
of the short story and may be looked upon with as
much annoyance as an intruder at a delightful tete-
a-tete.
Silver and such a common thing as a miner's
strike, have much to do with this romance. The
low price of the white metal and the laying down
of their drills by the Slocan miners, caused dull
times in the Kootenay towns in 1899.    The British The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
Columbia miner is a peculiar being. He lives in
Canada, but he allows himself to be subject to
the dictates of a miners' federation which has its
headquarters in Butte, Montana. Kaslo may be
called the capital of the silver-lead district of British Columbia. It was about the quietest town
in the whole province when the men said they must
have $3.50 per day of eight hours in place of a ten-
hour day, and quit the mines because the owners
said nay. It was easy to see that the town was hit
hard, for the music hall closed and the painted
ladies sought the other side of the boundary line,
where the pay-roll was still in existence.
Under these conditions the Kaslo people were
surprised when it was announced that a new mining broker's office was to be opened in their city.
The man must have money to burn, or he must
be easy," was the comment in the saloons.
But it turned out that there was no man in
the case—at least not then. The broker was a
woman, and, more surprising still, quite young and
very pretty. When that was known the tongues
of the gossips clattered like a cart on cobblestones,
while the quidnuncs said she had been crossed in
love. They were wrong, of course, as they usually
are.
Mary Atherstone was of the stuff that makes the
business woman and also the excellent wife. Her
feminine delights she tried to keep for after business hours, but they were known to intrude between
9 a.m. and 6 p.m. She chose to locate in Kaslo
at the moment of depression because she knew that
the boom had been flattened out and good claims
could now be secured at reasonable prices.    She And   Other   Stories.
103
did not go into the country for the sake of her
health, but she argued that the mining town was
bound to rise again and now was the time to make
a "stake." fi§
"There is no necessity for you to go into business at all, dear," her father had said to her the
day before she left Vancouver for the Kootenay.
"There is enough for you to do at home helping
your mother to entertain visitors and assisting at
the tea table on at home days, as well as helping
me in my office work when I am hard pressed."
There was just a suspicion of an ironical note
in Mr. Atherstone's voice as he uttered the first
part of this sentence. He was one of those who
had married a Western "society woman." His
daughter smiled sweetly as she replied:
"Dear, I am tired to death of these 'functions/
as the papers call them, and of these reading societies for young women, where the dissection of
neighbors' characters is the chief work, and also
of the sewing classes, which are schools for gossip. I have your nature, father; I have got to be
doing something useful, and now is the time to go
to Kaslo, Vhen mines and claims are at a decent
valuation and there is a chance for a newcomer,
who has been grounded in your excellent school/*
she added, with a touch of feminine diplomacy.
Mr. Atherstone was obliged to let her go.
It is a roundabout journey from Vancouver to
Kaslo, but it is delightful all the way. Through
the frowning Fraser canyon the Canadian Pacific
railway takes its way, at one time threading the
banks of the mighty river itself, a few hours later
high up in the mountains, seeming to cling to the %
a pi
I   J
i ■ i
I
$04        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
precipitous rock while the river dashes and roars
many hundred feet below in its noisy desire to
reach the Pacific Ocean. At Revelstoke Mary
changed her luxurious quarters in the Pullman for
the little carriage on the narrow gauge railway
which runs to Arrowhead, where the steamer is
taken for the trip down the lakes to Robson. She
could have entrained at Nakusp and gone through
the heart of the Silvery Slocan, but she preferred
the journey by way of Nelson—that bustling town
and marvel of hustle which is the commercial capital of the Kootenay and destined, perhaps, to be
one of the great cities of the American continent,
as the mines of British Columbia yield more and
more of their treasure and railways radiate to the
camps.
From Nelson to Kaslo is a charming trip on the
waters of Kootenay Lake, the home of the moun-
tain trout and the land-locked salmon, though there
are those who declare that the salmon come up from
the sea and leap the falls of Bonnington in their
anxiety to get to the spawning grounds, and die
.at the end of their four years.
As the stern-wheeler Kolcanee churned the waters of Kootenay River, Mary Atherstone noticed
a party of prospectors. She felt interested in the
bronzed and rugged-looking men. They were part
of her new life. Though she was not aware of it
then, the three men were to have an influence on
her life which was to last till death should beckon
her with gentle hand to sleep and be content.
"What strange creatures of circumstance we
are," she thought, as the Kolcanee rapidly steamed
out towards the lake and the prospectors' boat be- And   Other   Stories.
105
came as a buoy on the water. "I go to seek a mine-
one way, those men in another. And they take
more desperate chances than I do. They must
carry heavy packs up steep mountains and through
the dense brush; they, when night falls, must put
up a leaky tent or wrap themselves in their blankets and have only the earth for a bed and the waterfall for a lullaby. And I—ah, me," and she-
broke off in that sigh and felt just a suspicion of
homesickness.
But it quickly passed away as the steward's bell
clanged merrily for dinner. And after dinner she
felt in the humor to enjoy the scenery and the beauties of the setting sun flooding the Lardeau hills-
with a purple hue. That was of nature; those
twinkling lights yonder were of man, for Kaslo
was just coming into view. As she landed on the-
wharf of her new home Mary Atherstone scrupulously refrained from self-examination and prepared for the opening life. When she awoke-
the next morning and looked out of the hotel window, seeing the waters of the lake glittering in the
sunshine, she felt that it was good to be alive, to*
be a woman, and above all, to be young and pretty.
No qualms of possible failure came to her in that
atmosphere; she was in Kaslo to make a success.
Even as she walked up the one business street
of the town—they call it city in the West, for, do-
not the census returns show that it is the seventh
city of British Columbia?—she was not dismayed
by the prevailing quietness. The want of life did
not bother her. "My time will come," she said
to herself, as she entered the new office which had
been prepared for her by her father's orders and
1
6 i.
106        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
astonished the inhabitants by showing them that
the new mining broker was a female.
And now one must follow the fortunes of those
three prospectors wrho set out from Nelson at th§
♦same time as the Kokanee bore Mary Atherstone
away from that place. To row a heavily-laden
hoat many miles to the mouth of the creek of the
■same name as the stern wheeler was their task, and
they had determined to do it before they camped
for the night. They reached there while still there
was a little light on the lake and Gerald Anderson
proposed that they go three miles further on to
Pontiac Creek, where he knew there was an ideal
camping spot. This was done. In the morning
the men were indulging in horse play, as men will
do before breakfast renders them lazy. Anderson picked up a stone and threw it at McNeilly
whom it hit on the shin.
"Confound you!" roared Mac, as he stooped to
pick up the stone to return it. Struck by the weight
of the missile he hesitated in his throw and looked
at the rock. He found it to be a rich specimen
of mineral.
"Come and look here, old chap," he called, excitedly to Anderson. "You're throwing your fortune at me."
"What an idiot I was not to notice that," was
the comment of Anderson, as he examined the specimen. .
Breakfast was scrambled through and the three
men followed up that "float" nearly to the source
of the creek, high up in the mountains. It was
not until after three days' hard work that they
found the lead. And   Other   Stories.
107
<n
rIt was a happy thought of yours, Anderson,
that we should come to this creek," remarked Mac.
"Lef s call the mine The Happy Thought," said
Hennington, who was the silent man of the three,
but had something to say when he did talk.
And that was the name they gave it at the recording office in Kaslo.
The mine paid from the grass roots, but Mc-
Neilly soon got very tired of roughing it in the
hills and wandered to Kaslo one day to see if he
could find a purchaser for his third share. The
broker's office with the sign "Atherstone," struck
him as the most prosperous-looking in the whole
town and he entered and asked to see the manager.
The girl at the counter, whom he took to be the
typewriter, surprised him with the remark:
"Thaf s me."   1
McNeilly's thought was to skip. It was his first
experience with the new woman and he felt himself blushing. But he decided to beard the fair
one in her den and stated his business. He was
surprised at the amount of mining knowledge that
the girl showed in her rapid questioning. The result of the interview was that she promised to go
down to the mine next day.
There was grim satisfaction in the breast of Mac
as he stood on the deck of the KoTcanee next morning and thought of the ill-preparedness of his partners for an examination of the mine by this expert in petticoats. Mary stood the stiff climb up
the mountain very well and surprised the other two
very grimy partners as they were coming out of
the tunnel to knock off work for the day. Fortunately there was a spare cabin furnished decently
I lo8        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
JL4
%>
V,
enough for a woman to inhabit for a couple of
days, at any rate.
It should be explained here that the mine had
been developed sufficiently to prove it to be rich.
There was a shaft of about 200 feet in depth and
a small hoist, which could be operated by one man.
Early in the morning Mary Atherstone and Mc-
Neilly went down into the mine while Anderson
operated the hoist. McNeilly was in his element
pointing out to this possible purchaser the richness of the ore and the methods of operation. He
sent a bucket of waste up in the hoist, "just to
show you how easily the thing is operated." The
bucket had almost reached the top when something
went wrong and it commenced to descend again
with frightful rapidity. Both Mary and McNeilly
recognized that there was no way of escape for
them. The bucket would annihilate them in a moment or two. Unconsciously Mary covered her
face with both hands. McNeilly cursed himself
inwardly for his foolishness in taking the girl to
the bottom of the shaft, where nov way was open
to them to retreat. But just as the bucket was
within a few feet of them it stopped. A few minutes later it descended to where they were, very
slowly, and they were able to clamber in and were
hoisted to the surface. When they reached there,
very much subdued because of the closeness they
had been to death, Hennington met them with the
remark:
"You can thank Anderson for your rescue."
"Why, what did he do?" asked Mac.
"He thrust his arm into the cogs of that hoist
and that was what stopped it," he replied. And   Other   Stories.
109
Mary kept back the tears that rose to her eyes
as she went to the cabin where the men had carried the brave young fellow. She never flinched
when she saw how the flesh and muscles of his arm
were torn to shreds. With her own hands she
bound the wounds and then she superintended his
removal to Kaslo, where she nursed him through
the illness which followed his heroic action.
Anderson to-day has no use of his right arm;;
it is crippled for life, but he says his wife has right
arms enough for him both, and The Happy
Thought mine, of which they are now the sole owners, renders it unnecessary for him to use his muscle, or for her to any longer ply the vocation of
mining broker.	
f [Stjf-
L   id,
If*
no        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
A LITTLE GAME OF SEVEN UP.
h
Those were wild, glorious days in Cariboo when
Jolly Jack was Chief of Police and Captain Terror was Gold Commissioner. Gold dust was so
plentiful, that the happy-go-lucky miners thought
their claims would never give out and dance-hall
women, saloon-keepers and gamblers flourished like
the green bay tree. That Jolly Jack's job was
no sinecure, has been shown by the incident of the
girl from 'Frisco already related; but the Gold
Commissioner, by using the methods of Solomon,
had a snap.
Captain Terror deemed eccentricity to be the
very soul of his office. "What," he vasked, "was the
use of a Gold Commissioner if he did not command attention? Respect? To hell with respect
in a mining camp, where the rule of first come
first served was the very essence of life. The man
who runs the hardest to the Record Office is generally the man who makes the most here," he added,
"and no man can run and retain his self-respect."
It was part of Jolly Jack's duty to call the cases
in the Gold Commissioner's Court. When the famous trial of Edwards versus Carew came on the
Chief of Police, from force of habit, shouted out,
"Bioody Edwards." The eyes of the Gold Commissioner twinkled with amusement as he gruffly
invited "Mr. Bloody Edwards" to state his side And   Other   Stories.
in
H
of the dispute. The Londoner—it is hardly necessary to state his place of birth—put forward a
strenuous claim to a piece of ground on Williams
Creek. His language was as forcible as his demand, but, unfortunately, those were not the days
of stenographers. Less picturesque were the words
of Carew, but none the less strong his argument
that the ground was his.
"What can we do for these fellows, Chief?"
asked the Gold Commissioner in an aside loud
enough to be heard at the nearest saloon. "It
seems to me there's been some pretty tall swearing, but I defy even Paris to give a right judgment."
The classical allusion was lost on Jolly Jack,
but he suggested that they should divvy up on the
ground. The Gold Commissioner scorned that way
out of the difficulty.
"Gentlemen," he said, addressing the crowded
court, "it has seldom been my lot to listen to arguments so strongly put forward. I might almost
say that a sanguinary hue was given to them by
at least one of the parties. To deal with so complicated a matter with proper nicety and legal balance demands the acumen of a Solomon and the
knowledge of a Chief Justice. While I do not
pretend to either, I yet feel sure that I can settle
this case to the satisfaction of both parties. The
judgment of the court is that both men start from
here together, get an axe, run the two miles to the
claim that is in dispute, and the one who drives
the first stake gets the ground. The Court will
adjourn so that I may officiate as starter."
By the time the Gold Commissioner got to the
I iw   *
iTrjij
L,       1
nrffJf'
Iffiflf
112        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
door of the Court House this remarkable judgment
was known all over Williams Creek. By a sort of
wireless telegraphy, it had been transferred from
man to man. Moreover, Mr. Terror took some
time to reach the door, as Mr. Carew had invited
him to share a bottle of champagne in a side room.
"Had I tasted this excellent vintage before I
gave my decision, I might have come to a different judgment," said the Gold Commissioner to
the defendant, "but it is too late now. Might I
remark that wine is not a good thing to run on."
When Mr. Terror and Carew reached the door
they found a crowd of several hundred people engaged in the agreeable occupation of good-humor-
edly chaffing "Bloody Edwards," who stood on the
steps arrayed in a sweater, a pair of breeches cut
off a few inches below the thighs, and an immense
pair of gumboots.
"Your rival has his seven-leagued boots on, I
see," said the Gold Commissioner to Carew.
The latter ranged himself beside the other litigant, scorning to make any change in his miner's
attire. It was observed that "Bloody Edwards"
whispered to him and received a grave nod in reply.
"Are you ready," cried the Gold Commissioner.
"Go." And they were off as fast as their boots
would let them. An axe apiece was quickly secured. For half a mile the two men kept well together while a number of the more active spectators
kept up with them. Then "Bloody Edwards"
kicked off his cumbersome boots and went ahead.
After the mile had been passed, no one followed
the pair so, coming to a convenient stone, Edwards
■ 1
3*.'"
And   Other   Stories.
113
sat down and a few minutes afterwards Carew also
took a seat.
"Well, that was a blarsted sweat! I thought those
bloody fools would never leave off following us,"
said Edwards.    "Have you got the cards?"
You bet, but let's have a drink first," answered
Carew, producing a bottle from his back pocket.
"Here's luck."
"Now what's it going to be?" asked "Bloody
Edwards."    "How does Seven Up strike you?"
"Bully," replied Carew.    "Cut for deal."
Edwards got the deal and turned up the jack of
spades.
"Well, that's the Johnny for me, anyhow," said
he.
"And there's low," said Carew, as he took in
the ace of diamonds,/'and four for game."
"Ah, but that makes me thirteen for game,"
retorted Edwards, as he gathered up the king of
hearts with the ten of spades.
Carew secured Edwards' queen of trumps with
the ace and the game stood two apiece; high and
low for Carew, Jack and the game for Edwards,
The next round ended with two each.
"Here, this thing's getting bloody monotonous,"
said Edwards, "suppose we chuck it. There's nothing in that damned ground, anyhow, and we both
know it. What do you say to taking Jolly Jack's
advice and divvying up?"
"Right you are," said Carew, "but one of us has
got to tell old Terror that he stuck the first stake
in. We'll cut. First jack does it it. Is that
O.K.?" ft    m
The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
Sure," said Edwards, and he cut—again the
jack of spades.
'I'll call this bloody old claim the Jack of
Spades," he remarked. "Now, we've both got to
try and get rid of it."
And sell it they did, to no less a person than
Jolly Jack himself. But the Chief of Police took
the ground on the advice of Horsefly Bill, who
knew as much about mining as "Bloody Edwards"
did of booze—and that means a great deal. The
claim of which Edwards and Carew said, "there's
nothing in that damned ground," gave Jolly Jack
$15,000 before it gave out and enabled him to retire from the office which he had so signally
adorned.
On the night previous to his handing over his
position to his successor, Jolly Jack was dined
at the saloon of "Bloody Edwards." The history
of that famous feast is written in letters of whiskey in the Cariboo press of that day. Among the
treasures of earth that Jolly Jack left behind was
a scrap of paper that showed very strongly that
moth and dirt do corrupt. I have it before me
now. It is the Barkerville Gazette's account of
that tremendous jollification.    It reads thus:
Tt is our painful duty to record that Cariboo's
first Chief of Police has resisted all attempts made
to induce him to remain in office. While we don't
blame him a bit—a man with a decent claim is a
fool to be a policeman—still as we would rather
be arrested by Jolly Jack than any other man in
the world—and there's no knowing when an editor
may fall by the wayside—we extremely regret that "1
E
And   Other   Stories.
115}
he has made this Medes and Persian decision. Part
of our pain on this occasion, too, is caused by the
liquor partaken at 'Bloody Edwards'' place last
night, the cause being a farewell banquet to Jolly
Jack in office. For no other man would we have
consented to leave that feast of reason and flow of
soul to write here, in a cold office with a towel
round our head. But the call of friendship would
not be denied.
"The elite of the town was present at Edwards'
saloon last night, and, from the vast amount of
bloodying that was going on, it was evident, even to
the uninitiated, that Mine Host was excited. It
will be remembered that Edwards thought he had
found a sucker when he sold Jolly Jack the claim
on Williams Creek, which is now returning the ex-
Chief of Police a nice little pile. But the host
said he forgave Jack for swindling him out of his-
claim, so everybody was satisfied.
"The victuals—they were in Edwards' best style
—having been satisfactorily disposed of, Gold Commissioner Terror got up on his unsteady legs to
give the toast of 'The Queen.' From the bottom
of the table Edwards roared his familiar refrain
that he was a 'bloody good Englishman/ and proposed 'three bloody good cheers for the Queen/"
which were given with a will.
the toast of the evening.     Good
gives to Mr. Terror a command
of language which is the admiration of all his hear-
After paying his compliments to what   he
"Then came
whiskey alwa}
ers.
called the 'cabaret' of Mr. Edwards, the Gold Commissioner launched into eloquent praise of Jolly
Jack, which made the latter blush to his socks.   He
i n6        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
^spoke of him as Merienius Agrippa did of the citizens of Rome, as 'the great toe of this assembly/
.and reminded the rest of us that we had been prominent in paying full attention to 'this good belly/
to which Shakespeare so feelingly alluded in his
Blackfriars days. All this caused the honest face
of Jolly Jack to glow like the Cariboo hills at sunset. Finally he requested the retiring Chief to
.accept, as a small token of affection presented by
those who had been able to keep out of jail, a magnificent nugget chain, the like of which Bond Street
never saw.
(C[
*We cannot say that we were particularly struck
with the style of Jack's oratory in responding to
the toast and presentation. He is more at home
handling the bracelets than shooting off his mouth;
vat the same time, we know what he meant to say.
He's a grand fellow is Jolly Jack, and Cariboo was
lucky in getting him as its first Chief of Police.
"It had been our intention to conclude the report of this festive event with that last sentence—
so expressive of the feeling of the camp, but the
•sanguinary Englishman who runs the cabaret, as
the Gold Commissioner calls it, made that impossible. Some tenderfoot from the Old Country got
-up and said, it, aw, gave him great pleasure, aw,
to propose the toast of their host, you know, that
jolly fellow who was so absurdly called 'Bloody
Edwards.' He could not understand, really, where
so excellent a caterer got so extraordinary a name,
but supposed it was for bravery on a conspicuous
occasion.
"Edwards got as mad as a hatter at the remark;
iiooze had evidently robbed him of his sense of hu-
ilf' And   Other   Stories.
117
mor. He took it that the stranger was questioning his courage. The boys howled with delight
when the host got on his ear. 'Soak it to the tenderfoot/ they cried, and there would have been
a fight right there had not someone suggested that
Edwards prove his bravery. The latter seized a
lighted candle, held it at arms' length and invited
the boys to fire shots at the flame. The revolver
practice that followed made William Tell and the
apple sink into insignificance. Jolly Jack, of
course, was to the fore in putting an end to the
danger in which Edwards had placed himself, by
suggesting that it was time they 'wet' his new
watch chain. The most memorable banquet Cariboo has ever known ended with an adjournment
to the bar.    Here's luck to Jolly Jack." The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
THE GIRL FROM 'FRISCO. ||
"This camp's getting too damned moral for
me," said Bill Derwent when he heard that the
Vigilantes had marked him for their own. "I
guess I'd better git."
He stood not upon the order of his going.
The first boat from San Francisco to Victoria
took Bill north. Nor did he travel in the saloon;
the stoke hole was his home, "for one week only,
and too cursed long," he used to say.
That was how Derwent came to be in the first
rush to the Fraser River placer diggings. There
he made his fortune and lost his "M. or N., as the
case may be," in other words, the name his godfather and godmothers gave him. He discovered
the Horsefly country and ever afterwards was
known as "Horsefly Bill."
The horseflies in that country^ were as big as
crows," he told one tenderfoot who came from New
York by way of Panama, "and as scavengers they
were It."
When Barkerville was established in the far
north Horsefly Bill got in on the ground floor.
There's one thing I like about this town," he
said to Jolly Jack, who was the first Chief of Police in Cariboo, "and that is there are no parsons here. The reason I quit 'Frisco was that
there were too many white chokers there." And   Other   Stories.
119
"Well, you'd better get ready to pack up again,
then," said Jolly Jack, "for a parson arrived on
the stage from Yale to-day."
"A parson, did yer say, Jack ? And what in the
devil's name would a sky pilot be doin' in Barker-
vine ?"
as
"Seems to me/' replied the Chief of Police, "he
could teach you there's Someone besides that horned
beauty you're always referrin' to so pleasant-like.
The true religion don't pan too high in this camp
and parson's come to see if he can get on to some
virgin ground."
"Good for him," said Dutch Bill, who just then
came up. "If parson's the right sort, I'm willing
to chip in $500 and help build a church,"—this
with a challenging glance in the direction of Horse-
fly Bill. The latter would not stand for any bluff
like that. Nothing delighted the two Bills of Cariboo more than to "cover" each other, true comrades
of the hills as they were, save during the incident about to be related.
"I'll raise yer 500," replied Horsefly, "although
I'd sooner spend it on the new girl from 'Frisco."
"Daresay you would," said Dutch, "but I'll help
you to do a little laying up of treasures in heaven
by betting another five hundred."
To the church's financial loss the parson joined
the group at that moment. If he had stayed out
of the game a few moments longer he might have
had a fund of $10,000 to start his ministry with,
for the two Bills were dead game sports.
"Can't gamble with a parson lookin' on," said
Horsefly to Dutch, "so I'll just have to call yer.
Then addressing the sky pilot, he said:
9T
ml The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
Seein' as you've just come to this camp me and
Dutch Bill here has concluded to start yer out fair
and have chipped in with $1,500 apiece towards
a church. For myself, I don't take much truck in
such concerns, but Dutch is pretty far gone on 'em
and you're very welcome."
I gladly accept," said the Rev. Frederick Kingdom. "I believe, when you get to know me better you will be glad the 'truck' is here. Let's adjourn to that saloon and drink to its success."
Well, I'll be damned!" gasped Horsefly Bill.
Parson," he said, as he leaned over the bar, "count
on me whenever the plate goes round. ■  Here's my
hest respects."
A little sum like $3,000 was nothing in those
•days, either to Horsefly Bill or to Dutch Bill, the
latter being the discoverer of Williams Creek, the
richest diggings ever found in the world.
Thus it was that the Anglican clergyman made
«, proselyte of Horsefly Bill.    With Dutch, the sky
pilot had no difficulty.    He had inherited religion
from his mother.    He believed that parsons—of
the right sort—exercised a good influence on mining camps.    The Rev. Mr. Kingdom was sure of
his earnest support from the word go and now had
enlisted the good offices of Horsefly Bill, who was
disposed to give the parson every opportunity to
make good," as he put it.
No man is put to a more severe trial in a new
mining camp than the first comer who wears "the
cloth."    Fortunately for the Church of England
it had in Mr. Kingdom a man of muscle as well
as mind, an Oxford graduate, who could use his
fists to advantage and make his education of prac- y
And   Other   Stories.
121
tical value to others. He quickly proved to be the
right man for Barkerville, and he had his part in
settling the only serious quarrel that ever disturbed
the two Bills of Cariboo. It was the "new girl
from 'Frisco" who caused the two mining king&
that famous estrangement. Lorelia Hardy was her
name in California, but in the history of the north-
em gold camp she is known only by the title that
Horsefly Bill gave her.
"The Williams Creek miners are taking out
$1,000 a week," Lorelia had read in the San Francisco Herald. "Money is abundant," went on the
account of the new gold fields, "gambling and dissipation of all kinds go on day and night."
That decided Lorelia. Where dissipation existed
she was bound to be a queen. Nature intended
her for a life among the wanton, just as she fashions others whose noticeable mission is to be good
housewives and the mothers of large families. In
face, figure and tendency Lorelia Hardy was
marked out as a ruler of candle-light revelry. She
packed up her dresses and jewels and made for
Cariboo as hastily as possible, enduring considerable hardship by the way, which she determined to-
offset by a golden harvest.
It did not take Jolly Jack long to decide that
"the girl from 'Frisco" would be a danger to the
gold camp. They were discussing her in a saloon
a few days after the arrival of the sky pilot.
"The flesh and the narrow path arrived on the
stage from Yale," said the bartender, as he placed
a bottle of Hudson's Bay rum in front of the Chief
of Police. "Cariboo Tom (the stage driver for
Ballou) said she tried her best to make a mash of 122        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
&
the parson on the way up and that she has the
biggest outfit of stockings he ever saw."
"She's a regular corker for looks," remarked
Jolly Jack, "but she'll cause a lot of disturbance
of the Queen's peace, or I'm not the Chief of Police." Jack was proud of being servant of the
Queen and was unable to resist dragging her late
Majesty's name into his conversation whenever an
opportunity offered. "She's set all the boys jealous already," he added, "and she's got the better
even of Jim Pugh up at Diller's claim." (Dil-
ler's has the record for a 24-hours' return in Cariboo, $300,000 having been taken out of it in that
time.)
"You're wrong there," said Dutch Bill; "it was
Jim who got the better of her."
"But she just showed me the thousand dollars
she got from the claim," protested Jack.
"She hasn't heard, yet, how it might have been
$1,700, but Jim was too smart for her," chuckled
Dutch Bill. "Set 'em up, barkeep, and I'll tell you
how he did it. You see it was this way. She
quickly got on to the game of asking to be taken
down the shaft. You know what that means.
She didn't take more than a minute to tumble
to the fact that when a gal goes down
into a mine she always gets what comes in the
first pan. Some women have made little fortunes
on that lay. Still she's such a beaut that all the
fellers wanted the honor of taking her down. She
stood back and would not make a choice. 'You can
fight it out/ she says, smiling sweetly. And, you
bet, there would have been the finest kind of a
scrap right there had not Jim shoved   his   way
m And   Other   Stories.
123
through, and, being the foreman, no one could object when he offers his arm, quite polite, to the girl,
and says, 'Allow me.'    And she allowed.     Few
women take the trouble to resist Jim.    He has the
way with them that I had when I was ycftmger.
But Jim is used to her sort.    He purposely did
not go to what he thought was the richest ground,
though he found out a few minutes after, that
he made a little mistake.    He tried a new piece
and was mightily astonished when he undertook
to wash it.    At the first shake of the pan the gold
shows on the surface.    Jim tumbles at once and
glances swiftly at Lorelia.    And even while she
was smiling at him, he contrived to scoop out some
of the yellow into the water boy.    Oh, yes, he's a
slick lad.    He is quick and clever is Jim, and not
too much of a ladies' man during business hours.
The next shake of the pan uncovered more of the
stuff and a whole lot of gold went into the water
hole again.    At the third shake, Jim sees that there
was little gravel mixed with that pan of gold, so
he concludes to scoop out some more.    This was
not too easy right under my lady's eye, but Jim
found a way.    The water was muddy and he gave
the pan a vicious whirl and let it fall iuto the
water.    It was easy then for him to gsjt rid of a
lot more gold.    When he brought the pan to the
surface all eyes were intently gazing at the contents and Jim couldn't hide its richness any longer.
So, as polite as if he were in Hyde Park, he turns
to Lorelia and says:
" 'Miss Hardy, will you do me the honor to
accept this pan as a memento of your visit to the
Diller claim?'
;
i
WH
a-
I The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
She replied, pretty-like: 'Thank you so much,
Mr. Pugh, it will indeed prove a pleasant remembrance.' And Jim smiles, rather sickly-like, for
there was a thousand dollars in the pan if there
was four bits. Miss Hardy takes the pail to the
hotel, where the gold was found to weigh just sixty
ounces, meaning she got $1,080 for that afternoon's visit to the Diller shaft. While Lorelia was
admiring her haul, Jim was scooping out the water hole and the air was sulphurous, he was swearing that hard. He panned the gold in the water
hole, and, boys, he got $700. That's the record
for 'poor dirt/ I'm willing to bet."
The laughter which arose at this sally was cut
short by Horsefly Bill exclaiming in angry tones:
And do you mean to say that you stood by while
that poor girl was robbed of $700 ? That's the first
mean trick I've known yer to do all the days I
have been pals with you."
Dutch Bill's temper blazed at that. "The man
who calls me mean is a damned liar," he exclaimed,
hotly.
The lie had been passed and the crowd stood back
to give the two men room. Dutch Bill landed a
vicious left on Horsefly's nose, tapping the claret,
while Jolly Jack discreetly looked the other way.
The mixup was likely to become hot when the
parson stepped between the two men.
Keep away, parson, or not another cent do you
get from me for your church," cried Dutch Bill.
Don't   come  meddling   here,   parson,"   called
Horsefly Bill, "or you are liable to regret it."
But the Rev. Mr. Kingdom was not to be put
off thus easily.    He continued to dodge in between *»
And   Other   Stories.
125
the two as they tried to get around him and his
persistence won, much to the disgust of several of
the loafer class of miners, who liked nothing better than this falling out between the two Bills.
"Well, I'm going over to settle with Jim!" exclaimed Horsefly Bill.
"You haven't far to go, Bill," said Jim, as he
stepped out of a group of miners. "Anything I
can do for you?" he asked with a suggestive buttoning up of his coat.
"Yes, I'd like you to hand over to Miss Hardy
that $700 you have belonging to her."
Jim smiled.
"Can you give me any real reason why I should
pay your debts of gallantry?" he inquired.
It had not struck the innocent mining king that
any outrageous construction would be placed on
his championship of the fair, but Pugh's words
brought him to his senses.
"You're right, Jim; I'm a damned fool to wear
my heart on my sleeve," said he. "I ask your pardon, but as for the man who called me a liar, I'll be
even with him yet." With which final outburst
Horsefly sought the alluring society of the "girl
from 'Frisco" and himself made up the $700 that
should have been hers had she been given all that
came in that pan from Diller's. Meanwhile the
camp watched and waited for the next move in the
feud of the Bills.
And the camp did not have long to wait. That
night the men met in the bar of the Cleveland
Hotel. The only excuse for Horsefly Bill's action
on that celebrated occasion was that he wTas very
drunk, not too far gone in his cups as to be un-
)•- The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
able to fight, but too intoxicated to remember that
there are rules of honor and decency that have
to be remembered even in a miner's camp scrap.
He threw Dutch Bill to the floor and seizing him
by both ears pounded his head*against the floor
till the latter was senseless. It was two months
before Dutch Bill could be pronounced out of danger and all that time Horsefly was in the charge
of Jolly Jack, dreading every day that he would
have to answer to the charge of murder. When
Dutch Bill got around again, Horsefly was taken
before Chief Justice Begbie. According to British Columbia law, the prisoner was given the option of a speedy trial before the judge alone, or
of having his case sent up to the next assizes, when
a jury would render the verdict. The Chief Justice took elaborate pains to explain the two methods to Horsefly Bill and concluded thus:
If you are innocent, I would advise you to
take a speedy trial before a judge, because he knows
the tricks of the rascally lawyers and will see that
you get a fair trial; but if you are guilty, by all
means, go before a jury; the body is usually composed of fools. Now which course do you decide
upon?" To His Lordship's great amusement,
Horsefly Bill instantly replied:
I'll take a jury trial."
In due course the case was called at the assizes
and a big crowd of miners sweltered in the log
hut called, by courtesy, a law court. For a veracious account of the trial it is only necessary to
reproduce the interesting, if ungrammatical report of the Barkerville Gazette, as follows: And   Other   Stories.
127
"We are willing to bet that last cord of wood
received in lieu of cash subscription to this great
family journal, that Chief Justice Begbie feels as
mad as a hatter this morning. The jury turned
him down in fine shape in the Bill assault case
yesterday. It was a great day for the unwigged,
though his Lordship distributed wiggings enough
to cover the whole court room with a lovely sulphur color. The first witness called was Dutch
Bill, and the jury could see with half an eye that
he did not want his old pal convicted. He said
he'd been hurt in fair fight and there was no suggestion that he had been assaulted while he lay on
the ground, at least, not from him. It was like
pulling sound teeth to make him say that some of
the boys who had witnessed the fight had said that
his head had been pounded on the ground. He
begged the court to remember that such evidence
was valueless, as he himself had not seen the assault, not being in a condition to notice it. Dutch
is the right sort.
"Then they got Jolly Jack in the box and he
furnished one of the sensations of the day. He
said he happened to be standing in the shadow,
close to Lorelia Hardy and Horsefly Bill on the
night of the fight and had heard the woman say
he ought to sock it to Dutch Bill for calling him
a liar and also for backing up Jim Pugh in keeping back the $700 from Diller's claim that was hers
by rights. 'She was a common nuisance, that
woman/ says Jack, 'and ought to have been in the
box in the place of the prisoner, for she was the
cause of the disturbance.'
"*? "One of them cocksure lawyers from the coast If
I
128        ,The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
>
gets up at this moment and tells Jack he had no
business to make such assertions in court, he should
know better, as chief of police. The little lawyer
man had been noticed to be sweet on the Lorelia
girl. But Jack repeats his observation, and as he
concludes, ducks his head rapidly. A revolver
shot rang out and Jack was over the witness box
like a flash of greased lightning and had collared
a young feller who was making a bee line for the
door. That was the first time any one had dared
shoot in a British Columbia law court and we're
willing to bet all our paid up subscriptions it'll
be the last, for almost before the smoke had cleared
away Chief Justice Begbie had sentenced that
young feller to fifteen years. And serve him
right. The majesty of the law must be upheld.
But it was a close shave for Jolly Jack.
"The preacher was the next man to tell his little tale. The Reverend Richard is a tall man and
the sweat box is low; it wasn't built for men of
his height. He sprawls over the side of the box
in an awkward way. The Chief Justice doesn't
like the sky pilot. 'Stand up, sir/ he roars at him,
'you act like a sausage skin filled with water.' Being in court, his reverence could not resent that
sort of language, but he's a pretty good slinger
of hot talk himself, and there's those that say the
preacher will make the Chief Justice feel the keen
edge of his tongue wrhen he gets into the pulpit
Sunday. We're going to make the exception that
proves the rule and go to church next Sabbath.
There may be doings. But the sky pilot didn't
have much that was interesting to tell. 'Did you
see the prisoner sandbag the other man ?' the Chief 41
And   Other   Stories.
129
Justice asks him. 'I don't understand you, my
lord/ he replies. 'There's been no sandbagging in
this case, so far as I know.' 'So far as you know/
comes back the bench, 'well, that is not much, is
it?' The parson keeps his temper and all the
miners wonders what the sandbag was dragged in
for. But that instrument stuck to His Lordship
all day. He couldn't let it out of his head that
Dutch Bill had not been hit with a sandbag. He
charged strongly in favor of a conviction and
brought in that, sandbag every paragraph. Greatly
to his disgust, but to the delight of the camp, the
jury brought in a verdict of 'Not Guilty.' They
did it because Dutch Bill's evidence practically
amounted to a request to take that action.
"The bench didn't take the verdict in good part.
The Chief Justice was speechless with rage.    He
made no effort to hide his feelings.    When he had
recovered sufficiently to speak, he shouted:
Is that your verdict, gentlemen?'
Yes, my lord,' replies the foreman.
'So say you all?'
So say we all/ they replied.
"The judge smote his desk with his clenched
hand and again shouted. 'Remember, gentlemen,
that is your verdict, not mine. You may go; you
may go!' Then turning to Horsefly Bill, he says:
'You are discharged, prisoner; you are discharged.
Get out of my sight as quickly as you can. And,
you, miscreant, my advice to you is that you get
a sandbag and sandbag those jurymen.' It is
mighty certain that the Chief Justice had sandbag on the brain yesterday.
"There was a jollification at the Cleveland after
cc c
cc f
a
cc c\
I 130        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
the trial, and a touching incident occurred. Dutch
Bill was having a drink when Horsefly appears
at the door. He puts his glass down and walks
over to his old pal, and says: 'I take it all back,
Bill, let's be friends again.' That ornery cuss
Horsefly gets a suspicious mist before his eyes,
says he made a 'God damned beast' of himself,
and as he took his old pard's hand, cries out to the
boys to line up. There was a run on good liquor
at the bar that night. We ought to know, because
our new reporter has not been seen since. He's
a tenderfoot from the East and hasn't got acclimatized." »
The sequel to the feud of the two gold kings of
Cariboo is also recorded in the musty files of the
Gazette. A few days later it contained the following notice:
CCT
rThe Reverend Frederick Kingdom yesterday officiated at one of those pleasant ceremonies that
make two fond hearts beat as one. Miss Lorelia
Hardy became Mrs. Jim Pugh, and the two parts of
the Diller pan came together. The happy couple
took the stage for Yale en route to San Francisco.
Jim looked like a miniature Woolwich arsenal, because he had treasure of two kinds to look after.
There is a great dearth of old gumboots in Barker-
ville now."
Seeing the hand the parson had in this romance,
it was fitting that the very last feature was added
in his church. The following Sunday an unusually
large congregation assembled. But the pulpit was
occupied by a visitor.   He, not to disappoint the i It
And   Other   Stories.
131
miners, referred to the scene in court and denounced the Chief Justice for his language towards
a gentleman who "was but do^ng his duty in giving
his evidence in orderly fashion." He also stated
that the Rev. Mr. Kingdom would occupy the pulpit at the evening service.
The men who had made bets as to the sky pilot
giving the Judge a Roland for his Oliver were
conspicuous in the church that evening. Mr. Kingdom preached a very able sermon on charity, but
he made no reference to a "sausage skin filled with
water." It was a disappointed congregation that
listened to him pronouncing the benediction, but
when he wound up with, "And God bless those
who have lost their bets this night," merriment
was unrestrained. There was a record collection
at the door. 132        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
NEWSPAPER GHOST THAT WALKS.
im
hflTM
There are times when the "ghost" does not walk
on American and Canadian country weeklies. There
is one of those weeklies, however, that has a ghost
walking all the time. The pay-day vision is always welcome; this other ghost is a nuisance—but
he won't be laid. The office that he inhabits is
that of the Kamloops Standard, Kamloops is
called the Inland Capital of British Columbia,
and is on the main line of the Canadian Pacific
Railway. Two big rivers join, or loop, together
there, and that is why the Indians called the place
Kamloops—or rather that is the English pronunciation of the cognomen. Redskins abound around
Kamloops, and there is more than a suspicion that
the ghost of the Standard office is that of a native.
It is a wonder that there are not more ghosts
around Kamloops, for that place was the scene
many years ago of a sanguinary battle between
Hudson's Bay Company servants and the redmen.
But that is another story.
Curious to relate, the place where the Standard now gets out weekly used to be the business
house of the H. B. C.—magic letters among Indians even to this day—and that company did a
flourishing business there. Many is the big deal
and the crafty barter its old rafters have seen,
and the editor of the Standard wistfully says, that 11
And   Other   Stories.
133
the chink of silver and the rustle of greenbacks
was more often heard in those good old days than
it is now. W. W. Clarke is the editor, and though
his chase after the nimble dollar is wonderful to
behold, he has come to the conclusion that no man
made a million out of a country paper.
But Mr. Clarke is rather proud of the ghost.
He says all good families have a spook, and in all
houses of note, there is a ghost to give the "hall
mark" of respectability. This newspaper familiar, however, he objects to, because it does not keep
proper hours—in fact, it keeps all hours. It wanders around the office in season and out of season,
striving to make its presence felt, and trying to
interest itself in worldly affairs instead of remain-
ing where it properly belongs. But, perhaps it
would be well to come to the story and not imitate
the ghost's habit of wandering.
It was about fifteen years ago that the Hudson's
Bay Company occupied the store and provided in
it a bunk for a man named Franklin, so that he
could be on the premises whenever someone was
wanted. With an idea that it was healthy Mr.
Franklin had his bed placed right under a window,
and that was the opportunity for the ghost to walk.
One night Mr. Franklin was roused out of a sound
sleep by feeling something crawling over him. The
something was so uncanny, that, of course, his hair
did the raising trick and the cold chills took the
ordinary route down his spine. Equally naturally,
while in this nervous state, Mr. Franklin "retained
his presence of mind." He seized a revolver from
under his pillow and tumbled out of bed on to the mm
134        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
:
floor. All alert and strained to high tension, he
listened for—he knew not what.
Of a sudden .he heard the soft swish, swish, as
of moccasins sneaking across the floor. He had
not struck a light, but in the darkness he seemed
to make out the form of a man stealthily creeping"
along in the adjoining room—the door being open.
"Stop, there, or I'll shoot!" he tried to yell, but
his voice was hardly that of a commander in the
front of the battle. He pointed the gun with trembling hand.
The figure did not stop and Franklin pulled the
trigger. The room seemed filled with sulphurous
smoke, but when it had cleared away, there was
no figure—the thing had disappeared as if the
earth had opened and swallowed it. But Franklin had not waited for that moment. The instant
after he had fired he rushed out of the building,
and in a frenzy of excitement, had gone to his
nearest neighbor and awakened him.
"Come, quick, Johnny," he called to Mr.
O'Brien, who lived next door, "someone has been
trying to rob the store and I've shot him."
"Don't believe you," returned Johnny, who refused to get excited without more evidence than
the alarmed man with a revolver below. "You
haven't shot anyone, you've had the nightmare.
Go back to bed, man."
"It's a fact, I'm not dreaming," cried Franklin. "I saw the man or something. He crawled
through the window over me and tried to rob the
store and I shot him.    Do come, Johnny."
So Johnny came and with him two or three other
men who had been attracted by the noise.    The
m And I Other  Stories.
*35!
door of the store was wide open, as Franklin had
left it in his hasty exit, but no corpse was on the
floor. A casual glance seerAed to indicate to the
loiterers in the doorway that nothing unusual had
taken place.
"Look here, Franklin, you go to bed and leave
Hudson's Bay spirits alone," remarked one of the
boys present.    "You should swear off."
Franklin protested that he was not drunk nor
had he had the nightmare. He went into his bedroom, showed where the thing had crept over him
and then triumphantly pointed out blood stains on
the floor; in fact, there were pools of gore.
"And, there, boys, is my bullet, imbedded in the
door post," he remarked, with eagerness^
This put a new phase on the matter, but search
high, search low, not a trace of a wounded man
could be discovered.
"Guess Franklin fired at something and hit it,"
said another of the men, "unless he's putting up a
job on us."
Franklin protested that he had told the gospel
truth. "There's the bullet, and there's the blood,"
he said, "and the feller couldn't have come in the
door because it was locked, and I had to unlock
it before I went to Johnny's. I have not the jim-
jams, boys."
"Guess we'll have to give up the mystery," said
the others, "though there's enough blood around
here to come out of a three-year-old steer."
Since that day nothing has been discovered as
to what the thing was, and no doctor was called on
to dress the wounds of a white man or an Indian
about that time.   Franklin has gone over to the The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
great majority, but the ghost still walks. The
newspaper men who have taken over the building,
look upon the familiar more philosophically than
did the Hudson's Bay man.
"He's a regular nuisance," Clarke will tell you
CD * %J
in confidence. "We hear queer noises at night.
The casements and windows rattle and those infernal moccasins swish, but nothing is ever seen.
Naturally disembodied spirits have privileges that
ordinary mortals have not, and this one seems to
have gained a knowledge of the printing business
since we came here. We have never been able to
understand how certain articles got into the paper under the old management. There was one
calling a representative of His Majesty the King,
'a bewhiskered monstrosity/ there was another
abusing a certain editor of Vancouver and others
falling foul of well-known politicians. The ghost
must be held accountable for them, not us, for we
never wish to say a harsh word against anyone.
And in future, when anything scathing or needlessly abusive appears in the Standard, we can but
blame that other fellow—the ghost.'^
P.  S.—Since this truthful  story was written.
Editor Clarke has gone, but the ghost lingers. And   Other   Stories.
137
THE PRIMITIVE LOVERS.
My aunt was horrified. That was nothing extraordinary; she had a failing in that direction.
I had taken her for a summer holiday to Clo'oose,
on the west coast of Vancouver Island; far from
the madding crowd and far from those brazen
hussies of Vancouver, who display the roundness
of their limbs and the fairness of their bosoms, on
the sands at English Bay, to the dismay of the
W. C. T. U. And here was an Indian bathing
close to her habited in, she blushed to say it, a pair
of socks.
"But, aunt," I remarked, "you fail to see the
charming originality. A pair of socks in place
of a bathing suit!    The man is a genius." •
"I always heard that genius was akin to madness, but here it is allied to indecency," was her
freezing retort.
"But these Indians are not used to white visitors," I hazarded; "moreover, his action is perfectly
natural, and he has not the slightest idea that he
is doing anything to offend the proprieties. Besides, you can turn your face to the left and make
yourself believe that you never saw him," I added,
rather maliciously, I am free to admit.
"Algernon," she retorted, poking me playfully
in the ribs with her parasol, "I sometimes think
that you are very coarse.    I warned your dear
V i
'' Z m
w
':
m
138        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
mother of that failing in your father, but she would
listen to no warning from me."
I laughed heartily and replied:
"The coast is clear now, auntie, dear, for the immoral redskin has taken to the water.    See, there
above the surges his crest appears.    Now all the
ranks of  Grundy can give thanks  for  Nature's
covering of blue."
'"You are incorrigible," she answered, as she
picked up her sketching outfit and walked away
from that dangerous shore-line.
Clo'oose is a charming spot in which to study
nature, in all her aspects, without any fear of being disturbed by the cheap tripper. The steamer
from Victoria calls three or four times a month,
and it is seldom that white folks, other than the
missionary and his family, are seen there. The
Indian village is cleaner-looking than most Siwash
settlements as a tribute to free medicine and the
Bible, and the passions of the Indians are more
restrained than at places where no self-sacrificing
man of God has set his hut. But those passions
are none the less there, as my aunt, found out before she returned to Vancouver. But she had a
higher opinion of the native girl when she got back
than before she made that summer excursion, and
the reason can be found in this story.
Among my artistic treasures, I value very highly
an unpretentious sketch, by my aunt, of an Indian
Girl. Kwatsckerine she was called. She was the
beauty of the Nitinat tribe. My aunt thought her
costume rather bold, but so picturesque, that she
forgave the want of drapery for the sake of Art. And l! Other   Stories.
139
As a rule, Indian girls, at least in British Columbia, are not very seduetivejnoking; there is too
much dirt about them to render them pleasing to
those who have been brought up to answer the
morning question, Have you used Apple's soap?
Kwatsckerine was whiter than most of her tribe,
and was moulded as delicately as a hot-house
woman of New York. Her face was not alone
beautiful in feature, but in expression. Dark as
night was her hair, and bright as the stars above
Clo'oose her eyes. Her. teeth were rows of pearls,
no dentist did she ever need. The curve of her
neck and the outward slope towards the breast
were lines that a painter might rave of; even my
aunt was able to get some idea of their beauty.
Beneath her thin chemise, her small but richly
moulded breasts suggested passion, while the clinging skirt which hung from waist to knees revealed
loveliness whichever way the wind tossed it. She
wore no stockings on her slender limbs, while No.
3's never disguised a foot that Trilby could not
have equaled.
To love Kwatsckerine came as naturally to all
the young men of the tribe as fishing or swim-
mg.
Her father watched her grow in beauty, as he
might study a cow that he was fattening for the
market. The lovelier she grew, the more she would
fetch. Already he had let it be known that she
was for sale to the highest bidder. In that he was
no worse than many a father in New York, Paris
and London to-day. As a matter of fact, he was
better, for it was the custom of his tribe to demand
a substantial present for the parents whenever a
1 4
MlH
■Wl
140        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
daughter left for the shack of a brave. And beauty
commands a high price, whether the market be
red or white.
Half way between Clo'oose and Sequodah there
lived a white man. He was achieving wealth by
breaking the laws of Canada. He sold whiskey to
Indians. The firewater cost him 35 cents a bottle; he sold it for $2. But then he ran the risks
of a big fine and imprisonment, as it is illegal to
sell whiskey to redskins, and the law punishes the
offence very severely. Up to the time of our visit,
this old rascal had never been caught in the act,
though the provincial police knew that he was an
offender. He had determined to secure the maid.
He had cast senile eyes upon her many a time.
But Sailor Jack, as this reprobate was called,
had no intentions of paying a high price for the
girl. The braves might offer many salmon and
many cords of wood; whiskey was his stock in trade
and he knew that his time would come.
Grizzled and wrinkled, a deathly-brown in color,
a heathen in appearance, old Kwaka seemed out
of place as the father of a lovely girl. His klootch-
man was even uglier and the marvel was that they
could produce anything but an imp of darkness.
They were an evil pair, both in looks and life. The
missionary could do nothing with them. They
would rather worship the sun than believe in the
Holy Trinity. Old Sol was a visible god, riding
his chariot in the heavens, who warmed them when
they made him good-humored, but who hid his
face and sent the rains and the cold whenever
he was displeased. "This God of the Methodist,
where is he?" asked Kwaka, and he soundly rated And   Other   Stories.
141
his daughter whenever he caught her returning
from the little church-house*on the knoll, where
all the old camp meeting tunes were attached to
words in wiiieh the letter clicked with a deadly
sound.
Makwakla was the only one among the Indians
that Sailor Jack feared. The eldest son of the
chief had found favor in the eyes of Kwatsckerine.
It was interesting to hear them, after the Bible-
class, making love in the fashion of Ecclesiastes,
totally unconscious of the hidden meaning of The
Preacher, but accepting his diction directly as the
Complete Guide to Lovers' Conversation.
"0 thou fairest among women," Makwakla
would say to Kwatsckerine. "I have compared
thee, 0 my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots."
And she would answer:
"A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto
me, and he shall lie all night between my breasts."
Sailor Bill would clench his teeth as he saw
"those damn fools billing and cooing."
One night he caught old Kwaka half-seas on.
My medicine is all gone," whined the redskin,
cannot the white man provide me with more, for
my stomach gives me great pain?"
Sailor Bill took him into his cabin and showed
him many bottles of rye whiskey, and whispered
to him:
"All this is yours when Kwatsckerine is mine."
But Kwaka was not enough in his cups that
night. There came an evening, however, after the
tribe had returned from the Fraser River fishing,
that a great thirst came upon Kwaka   and   his
cc 142        The   Dashing   Sally   Duel
ml-
cc
squaw, and they had no means to assuage it. The
old man thought of the white man who dwelt at
Sequodah, and as he thought, the desire for whiskey grew until he spoke his thoughts aloud to the
klootchman.
"Why should we sit here in misery," he asked,
while the joy the white man provides can be had
for the asking?"
"We might get a bottle from him to-night and
promise him the girl," said the squaw, "but it will
be easy to refuse to hand her over to-morrow."
Thus the woman tempted the redman and they
did drink that night.
When Sailor Bill came next day for the bargain to be carried out, Kwaka was as unintelligent
an Indian as it is possible to meet. The whiskey
seller understood.
And he bided his time.
Once again a thirst came upon the evil couple.
But a visit to Sequodah had no results.
"You must bring the girl with you," said Sailor
Jack, "if you want any more whiskey."
One night the brave, Makwakla, saw a canoe put
out from Clo'oose and in it were the redskin and
his wife and Kwatsckerine. He paddled after
them and saw them land at Sequodah and knew
the awful thing which had been done. And that
night Kwaka and his wife slept the sleep of the
drunken on the floor of the living room of the
shack of Sailor Bill, amid the ruins of many bottles, while Kwatsckerina lay strapped to a bed with
a gag in her mouth. But ere the morning
broke, the place of the girl was taken on the bed
by a form all hacked and bleeding while Makwakla And   Other   Stories.
143
and Kwatsckerine were far away up N^tinat Lake,
on the top of the Mountain of Sorrows.
There they prepared for death. Makwakla knew
that the vengeance of the Great White King, Edward Rex, would be upon him for the murder of
Sailor Jack. Extenuating though the circumstances might be, he was aware that his life must
pay the forfeit for a life. As for Kwatsckerine,
what was life without her love, who was to her
"as the apple tree among the trees of the wood" ?
The top of the Mountain of Sorrows juts out
above Nitinat Lake, many hundred feet over the
blue water. There the death-song was sung, while
the canoes of the tribe drifted at the foot of the
hill. M
"Until the daybreak and the shadows flee away,
turn, my beloved," she said, and hand in hand
they leaped, and the waters closed over their heads.
THE END. m
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