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An Ingenue Of The Sierras
by
“And,” said the Judge, smiling, “has he a vocation–is he in business?”
“Oh yes,” she returned; “he’s a collector.”
“A collector?”
“Yes; he collects bills, you know,–money,” she went on, with childish eagerness, “not for himself,–HE never has any money, poor Charley,–but for his firm. It’s dreadful hard work, too; keeps him out for days and nights, over bad roads and baddest weather. Sometimes, when he’s stole over to the ranch just to see me, he’s been so bad he could scarcely keep his seat in the saddle, much less stand. And he’s got to take mighty big risks, too. Times the folks are cross with him and won’t pay; once they shot him in the arm, and he came to me, and I helped do it up for him. But he don’t mind. He’s real brave,–jest as brave as he’s good.” There was such a wholesome ring of truth in this pretty praise that we were touched in sympathy with the speaker.
“What firm does he collect for?” asked the Judge gently.
“I don’t know exactly–he won’t tell me; but I think it’s a Spanish firm. You see”–she took us all into her confidence with a sweeping smile of innocent yet half-mischievous artfulness–“I only know because I peeped over a letter he once got from his firm, telling him he must hustle up and be ready for the road the next day; but I think the name was Martinez–yes, Ramon Martinez.”
In the dead silence that ensued–a silence so profound that we could hear the horses in the distant stable-yard rattling their harness–one of the younger “Excelsior” boys burst into a hysteric laugh, but the fierce eye of Yuba Bill was down upon him, and seemed to instantly stiffen him into a silent, grinning mask. The young girl, however, took no note of it. Following out, with lover-like diffusiveness, the reminiscences thus awakened, she went on:–
“Yes, it’s mighty hard work, but he says it’s all for me, and as soon as we’re married he’ll quit it. He might have quit it before, but he won’t take no money of me, nor what I told him I could get out of dad! That ain’t his style. He’s mighty proud–if he is poor–is Charley. Why thar’s all ma’s money which she left me in the Savin’s Bank that I wanted to draw out–for I had the right–and give it to him, but he wouldn’t hear of it! Why, he wouldn’t take one of the things I’ve got with me, if he knew it. And so he goes on ridin’ and ridin’, here and there and everywhere, and gettin’ more and more played out and sad, and thin and pale as a spirit, and always so uneasy about his business, and startin’ up at times when we’re meetin’ out in the South Woods or in the far clearin’, and sayin’: ‘I must be goin’ now, Polly,’ and yet always tryin’ to be chiffle and chipper afore me. Why he must have rid miles and miles to have watched for me thar in the brush at the foot of Galloper’s to-night, jest to see if all was safe; and Lordy! I’d have given him the signal and showed a light if I’d died for it the next minit. There! That’s what I know of Charley–that’s what I’m running away from home for–that’s what I’m running to him for, and I don’t care who knows it! And I only wish I’d done it afore–and I would–if–if–if–he’d only ASKED ME! There now!” She stopped, panted, and choked. Then one of the sudden transitions of youthful emotion overtook the eager, laughing face; it clouded up with the swift change of childhood, a lightning quiver of expression broke over it, and–then came the rain!
I think this simple act completed our utter demoralization! We smiled feebly at each other with that assumption of masculine superiority which is miserably conscious of its own helplessness at such moments. We looked out of the window, blew our noses, said: “Eh–what?” and “I say,” vaguely to each other, and were greatly relieved, and yet apparently astonished, when Yuba Bill, who had turned his back upon the fair speaker, and was kicking the logs in the fireplace, suddenly swept down upon us and bundled us all into the road, leaving Miss Mullins alone. Then he walked aside with Judge Thompson for a few moments; returned to us, autocratically demanded of the party a complete reticence towards Miss Mullins on the subject-matter under discussion, re-entered the station, reappeared with the young lady, suppressed a faint idiotic cheer which broke from us at the spectacle of her innocent face once more cleared and rosy, climbed the box, and in another moment we were under way.