The Golden Dream by Robert Michael Ballantyne (list of e readers .txt) 📕

the reply, "What'll ye give?" There was no other means, however, of ascertaining the market-value of his sketch, so he put the objectionable question.

"I'll give ye twenty dollars, slick off."

"Very good," replied Ned, "it shall be yours in ten minutes."

"An' I say, stranger," continued the Yankee, while Ned put the finishing touches to his work, "will ye do the inside o' my hut for the same money?"

"I will," replied Ned.

The Yankee paused for a few seconds, and then added--

"I'd like to git myself throwd into the bargain, but I guess ye'll ask more for that."

"No, I won't; I'll do it for the same sum."

"Thank'ee; that's all square. Ye see, I've got a mother in Ohio State, an' she'd give her ears for any scrap of a thing o' me or my new home; an' if ye'll git 'em both fixed off by the day arter to-morrow, I'll send 'em down to Sacramento by Sam Scott, the trader. I'll rig out and fix up the hut to-morrow mornin', so if ye come by breakfast-time I'll be ready."

Ned promised to be there at the appointed hour, as he rose and handed him the sketch, which the man, having paid the stipulated sum, carried away to his hut with evident delight.

"Halloo, I say," cried Ned.

"Wall?" answered the Yankee, stopping with a look of concern, as if he feared the artist had repented of his bargain.

"Mind you tell no one my prices, for, you see, I've not had time to consider about them yet."

"All right; mum's the word," replied the man, vanishing into his little cabin just as Tom Collins returned from his ramble.

"Halloo, Ned, what's that I hear about prices? I hope you're not offering to speculate in half-finished holes, or anything of that sort, eh?"

"Sit down here, my boy, and I'll tell you all about it."

Tom obeyed, and, with a half-surprised and more than half-amused expression, listened to his companion's narration of the scene that had just taken place, and of the plan which he had formed in his mind. This plan was carried out the following day.

By daybreak Ned was up preparing his drawing materials; then he and Tom breakfasted at the _table d'hote_, after which the latter went to hunt for a suitable log-hut, in which to carry on their joint labours, while the former proceeded to fulfil his engagement. Their night's lodging and breakfast made a terribly large gap in their slender fortune, for prices at the time happened to be enormously high, in consequence of expected supplies failing to arrive at the usual time. The bill at the hotel was ten dollars a day per man; and provisions of all kinds were so dear, that the daily earnings of the miners barely sufficed to find them in the necessaries of life. It therefore behoved our friends to obtain a private dwelling and remunerative work as fast as possible.

On reaching the little log-hut, Ned found the Yankee ready to receive him. He wore a clean new red-flannel shirt, with a blue silk kerchief round the throat; a broad-brimmed straw hat, corduroys, and fisherman's long boots. To judge from his gait, and the self-satisfied expression of his bronzed countenance, he was not a little proud of his personal appearance.

While Ned arranged his paper and colours, and sharpened the point of his pencil, the Yankee kept up a running commentary on men and things in general, rocking himself on a rudely-constructed chair the while, and smoking his pipe.

The hut was very small--not more than twelve feet by eight, and just high enough inside to permit of a six-foot man grazing the beams when he walked erect. But, although small, it was exceedingly comfortable. Its owner was his own architect and builder, being a jack-of-all-trades, and everything about the wooden edifice betokened the hand of a thorough workman, who cared not for appearance, but was sensitively alive to comfort. Comfort was stamped in unmistakeable characters on every article of furniture, and on every atom that entered into the composition of the Yankee's hut. The logs of which it was built were undressed; they were not even barked, but those edges of them that lay together were fitted and bevelled with such nicety that the keenest and most searching blast of north wind failed to discover an entrance, and was driven baffled and shrieking from the walls. The small fire-place and chimney, composed of mud and dry grass, were rude in appearance; but they were substantial, and well calculated for the work they had to perform. The seats, of which there were four--two chairs, a bench, and a stool--were of the plainest wood, and the simplest form; but they were solid as rocks, and no complaining creak, when heavy men sat down on them, betokened bad or broken constitutions. The little table--two feet by sixteen inches--was in all respects worthy of the chairs. At one end of the hut there was a bed-place, big enough for two; it was variously termed a crib, a shelf, a tumble-in, and a bunk. Its owner called it a "snoosery." This was a model of plainness and comfort. It was a mere shell about two and a half feet broad, projecting from the wall, to which it was attached on one side, the other side being supported by two wooden legs a foot high. A plank at the side, and another at the foot, in conjunction with the walls of the cottage, converted the shelf into an oblong box. But the mattress of this rude couch was formed of buffalo-skins, covered with thick, long luxurious hair; above which were spread two large green mackinaw blankets of the thickest description; and the canvas pillow-case was stuffed with the softest down, purchased from the wild-fowl of California with leaden coin, transmitted through the Yankee's unerring rifle.

There was a fishing-rod in one corner, a rifle in another, a cupboard in a third; poles and spears, several unfinished axe-handles, and a small fishing-net lay upon the rafters overhead; while various miscellaneous articles of clothing, and implements for mining hung on pegs from the walls, or lay scattered about everywhere; but in the midst of apparent confusion comfort reigned supreme, for nothing was placed so as to come in one's way; everything was cleverly arranged, so as to _lie close_ and _fit in_; no article or implement was superfluous; no necessary of a miner's life was wanting; an air of thorough completeness invested the hut and everything about it; and in the midst of all sat the presiding genius of the place, with his long legs comfortably crossed, the tobacco wreaths circling round his lantern jaws, the broad-brimmed straw hat cocked jauntily on one side, his arms akimbo, and his rather languid black eyes gazing at Ned Sinton with an expression of comfortable self-satisfaction and assurance that was quite comforting to behold.

"Wall, mister, if you're ready, I guess ye'd better fire away."

"One second more and I shall commence," replied Ned; "I beg pardon, may I ask your name?"

"Jefferson--Abel Jefferson to command," answered the Yankee, relighting the large clay pipe which he had just filled, and stuffing down the glowing tobacco with the end of his little finger as slowly and deliberately as though that member were a salamander. "What's yourn!"

"Edward Sinton. Now, Mr Jefferson, in what position do you intend to sit?"

"Jest as I'm settin' now."

"Then you must sit still, at least for a few minutes at a time, because I cannot sketch you while you keep rocking so."

"No! now that's a pity, for I never sits no other way when I'm to home; an' it would look more nat'ral an' raal like to the old 'ooman if I was drawd rockin'. However, fire away, and sing out when ye want me to stop. Mind ye, put in the whole o' me. None o' yer half-lengths. I never goes in for half-lengths. I always goes the whole length, an' a leetle shave more. See that ye don't forget the mole on the side o' my nose. My poor dear old mother wouldn't believe it was me if the mole warn't there as big as life, with the two hairs in the middle of it. An' I say, mister, mind that I hate flatterers, so don't flatter me no how."

"It wouldn't be easy to do so," thought Ned, as he plied his pencil, but he did not deem it advisable to give expression to his thoughts.

"Now, then, sit still for a moment," said Ned.

The Yankee instantly let the front legs of his chair come to the ground with a bang, and gazed right before him with that intensely-grave, cataleptic stare that is wont to overspread the countenances of men when they are being photographed.

Ned laughed inwardly, and proceeded with his work in silence.

"I guess there's Sam at the door," said Abel Jefferson, blowing a cloud of smoke from his mouth that might have made a small cannon envious.

The door flew open as he spoke, and Sam Scott, the trader, strode into the hut. He was a tall, raw-boned man, with a good-humoured but intensely impudent expression of countenance, and tanned to a rich dark brown by constant exposure to the weather in the prosecution of his arduous calling.

"Halloo! stranger, what air _you_ up to!" inquired Sam, sitting down on the bench behind Ned, and looking over his shoulder.

Ned might perhaps have replied to this question despite its unceremoniousness, had not the Yankee followed it up by spitting over his shoulder into the fire-place. As it was, he kept silence, and went on with his work.

"Why I _do_ declare," continued Sam, "if you ain't _photogged_ here as small as life, mole an' all, like nothin'. I say, stranger, ain't you a Britisher?"

Sam again followed up his question with a shot at the fire-place.

"Yes," answered Ned, somewhat angrily, "and I am so much of a Britisher, that I positively object to your spitting past my ear."

"No, you don't, do you? Now, that is cur'ous. I do believe if you Britishers had your own way, you'd not let us spit at all. What air you better than we, that you hold your heads so high, and give yourselves sich airs! that's what _I_ want to know."

Ned's disgust having subsided, he replied--

"If we do hold our heads high, it is because we are straightforward, and not afraid to look any man in the face. As to giving ourselves airs, you mistake our natural reserve and dislike to obtrude ourselves upon strangers for pride; and in this respect, at least, if in no other, we are better than you--we don't spit all over each other's floors and close past each other's noses."

"Wall, now, stranger, if you choose to be resarved, and we choose to be free-an'-easy, where's the differ? We've a right to have our own customs, and do as we please as well as you, I guess."

"Hear, hear!" cried Abel Jefferson, commencing to rock himself again, and to smoke more violently than ever. "What say ye to that, mister?"

"Only this," answered Ned, as he put the finishing touches to his sketch, "that whereas we claim only the right to do to and with ourselves what we please, you Yankees claim the right to do to and