The Trail of 98 (5 page)

On this day I was drowsing on my bench when some one addressed me.

"Say, young fellow, you look pretty well used up."

I saw an elderly, grey-haired man.

"Oh no!" I said, "I'm not. That's just my acting. I'm a millionaire in
disguise, studying sociology."

He came and sat by me.

"Come, buck up, kid,
you're pretty near down and out. I've been studyin' you them two days."

"Two days," I echoed drearily. "It seems like two years." Then, with sudden
fierceness:

"Sir, I am a stranger to you. Never in my life before have I tried to borrow
money. It is asking a great deal of you to trust me, but it will be a most
Christian act. I am starving. If you have ten cents that isn't working lend it
to me for the love of God. I'll pay you back if it takes me ten years."

"All right, son," he said cheerfully; "let's go and feed."

He took me to a restaurant where he ordered a dinner that made my head swim.
I felt near to fainting, but after I had had some brandy, I was able to go on
with the business of eating. By the time I got to the coffee I was as much
excited by the food as if I had been drinking wine. I now took an opportunity to
regard my benefactor.

He was rather under medium height, but so square and solid you felt he was a
man to be reckoned with. His skin was as brown as an Indian's, his eyes
light-blue and brightly cheerful, as from some inner light. His mouth was firm
and his chin resolute. Altogether his face was a curious blend of benevolence
and ruthless determination.

Now he was regarding me in a manner entirely benevolent.

"Feel better, son? Well, go ahead an' tell me as much of your story as you
want to."

I gave an account of
all that had happened to me since I had set foot on the new land.

"Huh!" he ejaculated when I had finished. "That's the worst of your
old-country boys. You haven't got the get-up an' nerve to rustle a job. You go
to a boss an' tell him: 'You've no experience, but you'll do your best.' An
American boy says: 'I can do anything. Give me the job an' I'll just show you.'
Who's goin' to be hired? Well, I think I can get you a job helpin' a gardener
out Alameda way."

I expressed my gratitude.

"That's all right," he said; "I'm glad by the grace of God I've been the
means of givin' you a hand-up. Better come to my room an' stop with me till
somethin' turns up. I'm goin' North in three days."

I asked if he was going to the Yukon.

"Yes, I'm goin' to join this crazy rush to the Klondike. I've been minin' for
twenty years, Arizona, Colorado, all over, an' now I am a-goin' to see if the
North hasn't got a stake for me."

Up in his room he told me of his life.

"I'm saved by the grace of God, but I've been a Bad Man. I've been everything
from a city marshal to boss gambler. I have gone heeled for two years, thinking
to get my pass to Hell at any moment."

"Ever killed any one?" I queried.

He was beginning to pace up and down the room.

"Glory to God, I haven't, but I've shot.... There was a time when I could
draw a gun an' drive a nail in the wall. I was quick, but there was
lots that could give me cards
and spades. Quiet men, too, you would never think it of 'em. The quiet ones was
the worst. Meek, friendly, decent men, to see them drinkin' at a bar, but they
didn't know Fear, an' every one of 'em had a dozen notches on his gun. I know
lots of them, chummed with them, an' princes they were, the finest in the land,
would give the shirts off their backs for a friend. You'd like thembut Lord be
praised, I'm a saved man."

I was deeply interested.

"I know I'm talking as I shouldn't. It's all over now, an' I've seen the evil
of my ways, but I've got to talk once in a while. I'm Jim Hubbard, known as
'Salvation Jim,' an' I know minin' from Genesis to Revelation. Once I used to
gamble an' drink the limit. One morning I got up from the card-table after
sitting there thirty-six hours. I'd lost five thousand dollars. I knew they'd
handed me out 'cold turkey,' but I took my medicine.

"Right then I said I'd be a crook too. I learned to play with marked cards. I
could tell every card in the deck. I ran a stud-poker game, with a Jap an' a
Chinaman for partners. They were quicker than white men, an' less likely to lose
their nerve. It was easy money, like taking candy from a kid. Often I would play
on the square. No man can bluff strong without showing it. Maybe it's just a
quiver of the eyelash, maybe a shuffle of the foot. I've studied a man for a
month till I found the sign that gave him away. Then I've raised an' raised him
till the sweat pricked through his brow. He was my meat. I
went after the men that robbed me, an' I
went one better. Here, shuffle this deck."

He produced a pack of cards from a drawer.

"I'll never go back to the old trade. I'm saved. I trust in God, but just for
diversion I keep my hand in."

Talking to me, he shuffled the pack a few times.

"Here, I'm dealing; what do you want? Three kings?"

I nodded.

He dealt four hands. In mine there were three kings.

Taking up another he showed me three aces.

"I'm out of practice," he said apologetically. "My hands are calloused. I
used to keep them as soft as velvet."

He showed me some false shuffles, dealing from under the deck, and other
tricks.

"Yes, I got even with the ones that got my money. It was eat or be eaten. I
went after the suckers. There was never a man did me dirt but I paid him with
interest. Of course, it's different now. The Good Book says: 'Do good unto them
that harm you.' I guess I would, but I wouldn't recommend no one to try and harm
me. I might forget."

The heavy, aggressive jaw shot forward; the eyes gleamed with a fearless
ferocity, and for a moment the man took on an air that was almost tigerish. I
could scarce believe my sight; yet the next instant it was the same cheerful,
benevolent face, and I thought my eyes must have played me some trick.

Perhaps it was that
sedate Puritan strain in me that appealed to him, but we became great friends.
We talked of many things, and most of all I loved to get him to tell of his
early life. It was just like a story: thrown on the world while yet a child; a
shoeblack in New York, fighting for his stand; a lumber-jack in the woods of
Michigan; lastly a miner in Arizona. He told me of long months on the desert
with only his pipe for company, talking to himself over the fire at night, and
trying not to go crazy. He told me of the girl he married and worshipped, and of
the man who broke up his home. Once more I saw that flitting tiger-look appear
on his face and vanish immediately. He told me of his wild days.

"I was always a fighter, an' I never knew what fear meant. I never saw the
man that could beat me in a rough-an'-tumble scrap. I was uncommon husky an' as
quick as a cat, but it was my fierceness that won out for me. Get a man down an'
give him the leather. I've kicked a man's face to a jelly. It was kick, bite an'
gouge in them daysanything went.

"Yes, I never knew fear. I've gone up unarmed to a man I knew was heeled to
shoot me on sight, an' I've dared him to do it. Just by the power of the eye
I've made him take water. He thought I had a gun an' could draw quicker'n him.
Then, as the drink got hold of me, I got worse and worse. Time was when I would
have robbed a bank an' shot the man that tried to stop me. Glory to God! I've
seen the evil of my ways."

"Are you sure you'll
never backslide?" I asked.

"Never! I'm born again. I don't smoke, drink or gamble, an' I'm as happy as
the day's long. There was the drink. I would go on the water-wagon for three
months at a stretch, but day and night, wherever I went, the glass of whisky was
there right between my eyes. Sooner or later it got the better of me. Then one
night I went half-sober into a Gospel Hall. The glass was there, an' I was in
agony tryin' to resist it. The speaker was callin' sinners to come forward. I
thought I'd try the thing anyway, so I went to the penitents' bench. When I got
up the glass was gone. Of course it came back, but I got rid of it again in the
same way. Well, I had many a struggle an' many a defeat, but in the end I won.
It's a divine miracle."

I wish I could paint or act the man for you. Words cannot express his curious
character. I came to have a great fondness for him, and certainly owed him a
huge debt of gratitude.

One day I was paying my usual visit to the Post Office, when some one gripped
me by the arm.

"Hullo, Scotty! By all that's wonderful. I was just going to mail you a
letter."

It was the Prodigal, very well dressed and spruce-looking.

"Say, I'm so tickled I got you; we're going to start in two days."

"Start! Where?" I asked.

"Why, for the Golden North, for the land of the
Midnight Sun, for the treasure-troves of the Klondike
Valley."

"You maybe," I said soberly; "but I can't."

"Yes you can, and you are, old sport. I fixed all that. Come on, I want to
talk to you. I went home and did the returned prodigal stunt. The old man was
mighty decent when I told him it was no good, I couldn't go into the glue
factory yet awhile. Told him I had the gold-bug awful bad and nothing but a trip
up there would cure me. He was rather tickled with the idea. Staked me
handsomely, and gave me a year to make good. So here I am, and you're in with
me. I'm going to grubstake you. Mind, it's a business proposition. I've got to
have some one, and when you make the big strike you've got to divvy up."

I said something about having secured employment as an under-gardener.

"Pshaw! you'll soon be digging gold-nuggets instead of potatoes. Why, man,
it's the chance of a lifetime, and anybody else would jump at it. Of course, if
you're afraid of the hardships and so on"

"No," I said quickly, "I'll go."

"Ha!" he laughed, "you're too much of a coward to be afraid. Well, we're
going to be blighted Argonauts, but we've got to get busy over our outfits. We
haven't got any too much time."

So we hustled around. It seemed as if half of San Francisco was
Klondike-crazy. On every hand was there speculation and excitement. All the
merchants had their
outfitting departments, and wild and vague were their notions as to what was
required. We did not do so badly, though like every one else we bought much that
was worthless and foolish. Suddenly I bethought me of Salvation Jim, and I told
the Prodigal of my new friend.

"He's an awfully good sort," I said; "white all through; all kinds of
experience, and he's going alone."

"Why," said the Prodigal, "that's just the man we want. We'll ask him to join
us."

I brought the two together, and it was arranged. So it came about that we
three left San Francisco on the fourth day of March to seek our fortunes in the
Frozen North.

"Say! you're looking mighty blue. Cheer up, darn you! What's the matter?"
said the Prodigal affectionately.

And indeed there was matter enough, for had I not just received letters from
home, one from Garry and one from Mother? Garry's was gravely censorious, almost
remonstrant. Mother, he said, was poorly, and greatly put out over my escapade.
He pointed out that I was in a fair way of being a rolling stone, and hoped that
I would at once give up my mad notion of the South Seas and soberly proceed to
the Northwest.

Mother's letter was reproachful, in parts almost distressful. She was
failing, she said, and she begged me to be a good son, give up my wanderings and
join my cousin at once. Also she enclosed post-office orders for forty pounds.
Her letter, written in a fine faltering hand and so full of gentle affection,
brought the tears to my eyes; so that it was very bleakly I leaned against the
ship's rail and watched the bustle of departure. Poor Mother! Dear old Garry!
With what tender longing I thought of those two in far-away Glengyle, the Scotch
mist silvering the heather and the wind blowing caller from the sea. Oh, for the
clean, keen breath of it! Yet alas, every day was the memory
fading, and every day was I fitting more
snugly into the new life.

"I've just heard from the folks," I said, "and I feel like going back on
you."

"Oh, beat it," he cried; "you can't renig now. You've got to see the thing
through. Mothers are all like that when you cut loose from their apron-strings.
Ma's scared stiff about me, thinks the devil's got an option on my future sure.
They get wised up pretty soon. What you want to do is to get busy and make
yourself acquainted. Here I've been snooping round for the last two hours, and
got a line on nearly every one on board. Say! Of all the locoed outfits this
here aggregation has got everything else skinned to a hard-boiled finish. Most
of them are indoor men, ink-slingers and calico snippers; haven't done a day's
hard work in their lives, and don't know a pick from a mattock. They've got a
notion they've just got to get up there and pick big nuggets out of the water
like cherries out of a cocktail. It's the limit."

"Tell me about them," I said.

"Well, see that young fellow standing near us?"

I looked. He was slim, with gentle, refined features and an unnaturally fresh
complexion.

"That fellow was a pen-pusher in a mazuma emporiumI mean a bank clerk.
Pinklove's his name. He wanted to get hitched to some girl, but the directors
wouldn't stand for it. Now he's chucked his job and staked his savings on this
trip. There's his girl in the crowd."

Bedded in that mosaic
of human faces I saw one that was all sweetness, yet shamelessly
tear-stained.