The Golden Dream: Adventures in the Far West by R. M. Ballantyne (book recommendations for teens .TXT) đ
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «The Golden Dream: Adventures in the Far West by R. M. Ballantyne (book recommendations for teens .TXT) đ». Author R. M. Ballantyne
Tom Collins sighed.
âWell, perhaps I donât know it all, but I know the most of it, and besides, I feel as if I had known you all my lifeââ
âNed,â interrupted the other, in an earnest tone of voice, âI feel your kindness very muchâno one has spoken to me as you have done since I came to the diggingsâbut I cannot agree to your proposal to-day. Meet me at the Parker House to-morrow, at this time, and I shall give you a final answer.â
âBut why not give it now?â
âBecauseâbecause, I want toâto get paid for a job I expect to getââ
âTom,â said Ned, stopping and laying his hand on the shoulder of his companion, while he looked earnestly into his face, âlet us begin our friendship with mutual candour. Do you not intend to make a few dollars, and then try to increase them by another throw at the gaming-table!â
The youthâs brow flushed slightly as he answered, âYou are right, I had half an intention of trying my fortune for the last timeââ
âThen,â said Ned firmly and emphatically, âyou shall do nothing of the sort. Gambling for money is a mean, pitiful, contemptible thingâdonât frown, my dear fellow, I do not apply these terms to you, I apply them to the principle of gamblingâa principle which you do not hold, as I know from your admission, made to me not many minutes ago, that you have often striven against the temptation. Many men donât realise the full extent of the sinfulness of many of their practices, but although that renders them less culpable, it does not render them innocent, much less does it justify the evil practices. Gambling is all that I have styled it, and a great deal worse; and you must give it upâI insist on it. Moreover, Tom, I insist on your coming to dine with me at the Parker House. I shall introduce you to my friend Captain Bunting, whom you already know by sightâso come along.â
âWell, I will,â said Tom, smiling at his friendâs energy, but still hanging back; âbut you must permit me to go to my lodgings first. I shall be back immediately.â
âVery good. Remember, we dine in the course of an hour, so be punctual.â
While Tom Collins hurried away to his lodgings, Ned Sinton proceeded towards the shores of the bay in a remarkably happy frame of mind, intending to pass his leisure hour in watching the thousands of interesting and amusing incidents that were perpetually taking place on the crowded quays, where the passengers from a newly-arrived brig were looking in bewildered anxiety after their luggage, and calling for porters; where traffic, by means of boats, between the fleet and the land created constant confusion and hubbub; where men of all nations bargained for the goods of all climes in every known tongue.
While he gazed in silence at the exciting and almost bewildering scene, his attention was attracted to a group of men, among whose vociferating tones he thought he distinguished familiar voices.
âThatâs it; hereâs your man, sir,â cried one, bursting from the crowd with a huge portmanteau on his shoulder. âNow, then, whereâll I steer to?â
âRight ahead to the best hotel,â answered a slim Yankee, whose black coat, patent-leather boots, and white kids, in such a place, told plainly enough that a superfine dandy had mistaken his calling.
âAy, ay, sir!â shouted Bill Jones, as he brushed past Ned, in his new capacity of porter.
âFaix, yeâve cotched a live Yankee!â exclaimed a voice there was no mistaking, as the owner slapped Bill on the shoulder. âHeâll make yer fortinâ, av ye only stick by him. Heâs just cut out for the digginâs, av his mother wos here to take care of him.â
Larry OâNeil gave a chuckle, slapped his pockets, and cut an elephantine caper, as he turned from contemplating the retreating figure of his shipmateâs employer, and advanced towards the end of the quay.
âNow, thin, whoâs nixt?â cried he, holding out both arms, and looking excited, as if he were ready to carry off any individual bodily in his arms to any place, for mere love, without reference to money. âDonât all spake at wance. Tshoo dollars a mile for anythinâ onder a ton, anâ yerself on the top of it for four! Horoo, Mister Sinton, darlint, is it yerself? Och, but this is the place intirelyâgoold and silver for the axinâ aâmost! Ah, ye neednât grin. Look here!â
Larry plunged both hands into the pockets of his trousers, and pulled them forth full of half and quarter dollars, with a few shining little nuggets of gold interspersed among them.
Ned opened his eyes in amazement, and, taking his excited comrade apart from the crowd, asked how he had come by so much money.
âCome by it!â he exclaimed; âye could come by twice the sum, av ye liked. Sure, didnât I find that they wos charginâ tshoo dollarsâaiqual to eight shillinâs, Iâm towldâfor carryinâ a box or portmanter the length oâ me fut; so I turns porter all at wance, anâ faix I made six dollars in less nor an hour. But as I was cominâ back, I says to myself, says I, âLarry, yeâll be the better of a small glass oâ somethinââeh!â So in I goes to a grog-shop, and faix I had to pay half-a-dollar for a thimbleful oâ brandy, bad luck to them, as would turn the stomik oâ a pig. I almost had a round wiâ the landlord; but they towld me it wos the same iverywhere. So I wint and had another in the nixt shop I sees, jist to try; and it was thrue. Then a Yankee spies my knife,âthe great pig-sticker that Bob Short swopped wiâ me for my junk oâ plum-duff off the Cape. It seems theyâve run out oâ sich articles just at this time, and would give handfuls oâ goold for wan. So says I, âWotâll ye give?â
ââThree dollars, I guess,â says wan.
ââFour,â says another; âheâs chaitinâ ye.â
ââFourâs bid,â says I, mountinâ on a keg oâ baccy, and howldin up the knife; âwho says more? Itâs the rale steel, straight from Manchester or Connaught, I misremimber which. Warranted to cut both ways, av ye only turn the idge round, and shove with a will.â
âI begood in joke; but faix they took me up in arnest, anâ run up the price to twinty dollarsâfour pounds, as sure as me nameâs Larryâbefore I knowâd where I wos. I belave I could haâ got forty for it, but I hadnât the heart to ax more, for it wasnât worth a brass button.â
âYouâve made a most successful beginning, Larry. Have you any more knives like that one?â
âSorrow a wanâmoreâs the pity. But thatâs only a small bit oâ me speckilations. I found six owld newspapers in the bottom oâ me chist, and, would ye belave it, I sowld âem, ivery wan, for half-a-dollar the pace; and I donât rightly know how much clear goold Iâve got by standinâ all morninâ at the post-office.â
âStanding at the post-office! What do you mean?â
âNother more or less nor what I say. I suppose ye know the mailâs comed in yisterday morning; so says I to myself this morninâ, âYeâve got no livinâ sowl in the owld country thatâs likely to write to ye, but ye better go, for all that, anâ ax if thereâs letters. Maybe there is; who knows?â So away I wint, and sure enough I found a row oâ men waitinâ for their letters; so I crushes forâardâoch! but I thought theyâd haâ hung me on the spot,âand I found it was a rule that âfirst come first sarvedâfair play and no favour.â They wos all standinâ wan behind another in a line half-a-mile long av it wos a fut, as patient as could be; some readinâ the noosepapers, and some drinkinâ coffee and tay and grog, that wos sowld by men as went up anâ down the line the whole morninâ. So away I goes to the end oâ the line, anâ took my place, detarmined to stand it out; and, in three minutes, I had a tail of a dozen men behind me. âFaix, Larry,â says I, âitâs the first time ye iver comminced at the end of a thing in order to git to the beginninâ.â
âWell, when I wos gittinâ pretty near the post-office windy, I hears the chap behind me a-sayinâ to the fellow behind him that he expected no letters, but only took up his place in the line to sell it to them what did. Anâ sure enough I found that lots oâ them were there on the same errand. Just then up comes a miner, in big boots and a wide-awake.
ââOch,â says he, âwhoâll sell me a place?â and with that he offered a lot oâ pure goold lumps.
ââGuess itâs too little,â says the man next me.
ââAh, ye thievinâ blackguard!â says I. âHere, yer honer, Iâll sell ye my place for half the lot. I can wait for me letter, more be token Iâm not sure there is wan.â For, ye see, I wos riled at the Yankeeâs greed. So out I steps, and in steps the miner, and hands me the whole heâd offered at first.
ââTake them, my man,â says he; âyouâre an honest fellow, and itâs a trate to meet wan here.ââ
âCapital,â cried Ned, laughing heartily; âand you didnât try for a letter after all?â
âPorter there?â shouted a voice from the quay.
âThatâs me, yer honer. Here ye are,â replied the Irishman, bounding away with a yell, and shouldering a huge leathern trunk, with which he vanished from the scene, leaving Ned to pursue the train of thought evoked by his account of his remarkable experiences.
We deem it necessary here to assure the reader that the account given by Larry OâNeil of his doings was by no means exaggerated. The state of society, and the eccentricities of traffic displayed in San Francisco and other Californian cities during the first years of the gold-fever, beggars all description. Writers on that place and period find difficulty in selecting words and inventing similes in order to convey anything like an adequate idea of their meaning. Even eye-witnesses found it almost impossible to believe the truth of what they heard and saw; and some have described the whole circle of life and manners there to have been more like to the wild, incongruous whirl of a pantomime than to the facts of real life.
Even in the close and abrupt juxtaposition of the ludicrous and the horrible this held good. Ned Sinton had scarcely parted from his hilarious shipmate, when he was attracted by shouts, as if of men quarrelling, in a gaming-house; and, a few moments later, the report of a pistol was heard, followed by a sharp cry of agony. Rushing into the house, and forcing his way through the crowd, he reached the table in time to see the bloody corpse of a man carried out. This unfortunate had repeatedly lost large sums of money, and, growing desperate, staked his all on a final chance. He lost; and, drawing his bowie-knife, in the heat of despair, rushed at the president of the table. A dozen arms arrested him, and rendered his intended assault abortive; nevertheless, the president coolly drew a revolver from under the cloth, and shot him dead. For a few minutes there was some attempt at disturbance, and some condemned, while others justified the act. But the body was removed, and soon the game went on again as if nothing had occurred.
Sickened with the sight, Ned hurried from the house, and walked rapidly towards the shores of the bay, beyond the limits of the canvas town,
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