8 Old Faces Again

When we started the next morning to take breakfast with Mr. Sheldon in his unique domicile, Henry said, humorously:

“We saw some queer people in ’Frisco and now we’ve met a hermit. I wonder what this journey will bring to us next.”

“Hank Halftrigger,” said Pike, sententiously. In the hurry and interest of the events of the last few days I had thought little of the sinister sailor, and his memory was brought back to me with unpleasant force. But it was the fiery little Frenchman who spoke up.

“Eet ees all right,” said Bonneau. “Let Monsieur Halftriggaire come and bring with him whomsoevaire he pleases. With le Captaine Pike to lead us shall we not beat him off?”

“Right you are, messmate,” said Starboard Sam, giving the Frenchman a hearty slap on the back. “An’ you an’ me will be right thar when it comes to the pinch, won’t we, Frenchy?”

“Vy you hit my back so hard?” cried Bonneau. “You do make my teeth rattle. Vy not save such heavy blows for ze enemy?”

“Shut up, Frenchy,” said Sam, with a grin. The fact was the two men, though incessantly berating each other, had become chums, for they were somehow congenial, and the Frenchman recognized the sterling qualities of the American as readily as the American perceived that the Frenchman was endowed with similar characteristics.

As we ascended the hillside in the fresh and vivifying morning air we found Mr. Sheldon awaiting us at his front door.

“Come In, gentlemen,” he said, with the utmost suavity. “Our repast is ready to be served. We could have eaten, perhaps, in more comfort under the shade of one of these trees than inside the trunk, but I fancied that the entertainment in the former case would lack the picturesqueness and novelty which must accompany it in the case of the latter. Entrez vouz.”

None of us, except Bonneau, understood his French, but the gesture that accompanied it was expressive. So we entered, and our host followed us. The preparations that had been made for us gave us a pleasant thrill of surprise. Spread out upon two boxes was a show of civilized tableware and even a bit or two of napery. Appetizing odors added to the attractiveness of this corner of the room.

“You see I am not a bad housekeeper,” said Mr. Sheldon. “Now you shall see also that I am not a bad cook. Be seated at the banquet board.”

We found that he had not made an empty boast of culinary skill. He had bread, several kinds of game, cooked with great skill, and what we appreciated most of all, coffee with an aroma and taste that were divine.

“Ah,” said Bonneau, leaning back and patting his stomach with a great sigh of satisfaction, “eet ees easy for me to eemagine zat I am eating ze dejeuner back in zee beautiful Paris. Monsieur Sheldon ees one great cook et un parfait gentilhomme.”

“Thank you, Monsieur Bonneau,” said Mr. Sheldon, “that compliment coming from a Frenchman is not without its value, and I assure you it is fully appreciated by your humble servant. But, gentlemen, as I perceive the edge is taken off your hunger and we can sip our coffee at our leisure, the time has come for me to tell my story. I perceive that your curiosity has been awakened, and I assure you I am not averse to gratifying it. Shall I proceed?”

“Yes! Yes!” we clamored.

Mr. Sheldon raised the tin cup that contained his coffee to his lips. Then, putting it down, he said:

“Thus spoke Aeneas from his lofty couch.

“That, gentlemen,” he continued, “as doubtless my young friend on the right with the studious face recognizes, is the introductory line which a fine romancer who lived a number of years ago used when he was on the point of making his hero spin a wondrous tale to a handsome lady of high degree and her attendants. But I assure you my tale is of a very different character, and is not wondrous at all, as you will soon have an opportunity of perceiving.

“I have told you already that I am from New York City. I was born there, and as I inherited plenty of money and no troublesome relatives, I grew up pretty much as I pleased. But when I became a man and had no occupation and no ambition I found that I had more time than I knew what to do with. Everything became a bore and I found my fellow-men the worst bores of all. Some people are born with a desire to be alone, and I suppose I am one of them. At last I went on a long hunting trip and then I found what suited me exactly. The pursuit of game interested me and filled up my time, and there were no other men to tire me with their talk. I extended my trips further and further and hunted bigger and bigger game until at last I came around the isthmus and into California, which was then Mexican territory, and here I have been almost continually since then.

“In one of my hunting expeditions I found this hollow tree, and a little work made it as snug and nice a home as I wanted. Then I became a kind of hermit and voluntary Robinson Crusoe, though be it understood distinctly that I am not a disappointed man. I have not been jilted by any woman. I am not undergoing any penance for any sin. I do not have any especial hatred of my kind. I have not taken any oath never to live in civilized places again. If at any time I feel a desire to return to civilization, as I probably will, I shall go at once. There is no romance about me at all. I am merely a rover, a lazy sort of a fellow following his own fancy, and I am glad to add that I have a sound conscience, a most wonderful appetite and digestion to match. I may add also that I am reasonably happy, and I find this world a pretty good place to live in. So, gentlemen, unlike most hermits, I am entitled to your congratulations instead of your sympathy.”

“But it is evident that you like the comforts of civilization, or at least a portion of them,” said Henry. “How do you manage to obtain them?”

“I have been up to San Francisco several times,” said Mr. Sheldon, “and there is nothing easier than to buy what I want, load up three or four mules and bring my supplies down here. Besides, I make a dicker sometimes with a passing immigrant train or mining party. And, by the way, I wish to express my regret at these confounded gold discoveries, which threaten to ruin my happy hunting grounds and break up my comfortable Robinson Crusoe life unless I move across the Sierras, where the climate and country are not so good, and I might not find such a snug, ready-made house as I have here.”

“But when you go off on a long cruise,” broke in Starboard Sam, “ain’t you afraid pirates will find your ship and plunder and scuttle it?”

“Plunder my home in the tree, you mean,” said Mr. Sheldon. “When I am about to start on a long journey I secrete all my more valuable possessions in a little cave I found in the mountain side. As for the remainder I trust to luck. Only once has any one sought to intrude upon me here.”

“How was that?” I asked.

Mr. Sheldon took another sip of his coffee, laughed unctuously and then answered with great deliberation:

“It was one moonlight night last spring, when I came in from a long hunt, and was so tired that I fell sound asleep the moment my head touched my bed of furs. I was awakened in the night by a great scratching at my door. Looking out I saw a large family of grizzly bears trying to effect an entrance unasked. But, as you perceive, my door is too narrow for a grizzly bear unless it be a very small one, and I was in no danger whatever. I could lie abed and shoot them as they endeavored to thrust their noses in at the door, but it was such tame sport that I would not have fired a single shot at them had I not been forced to kill two in order to induce the others to go away.”

Mr. Sheldon told his story with so much zest that I could see he enjoyed his own little eccentricities and liked to parade them. He had some vanity, but he had saved my life, he was hospitable and interesting, and we liked him. He was a comfortable hermit in a comfortable hermitage.

“Now, gentlemen,” said Mr. Sheldon, “we have reached the coffee, which, by the way, is quite as good as any your French friend there or any of his countrymen could make, despite all their boasted skill in cookery. I propose that we drink a little toast to each other’s health in this fluid in the absence of champagne.”

We drank the toast with an enthusiasm heightened by the excellence of the coffee, and just as we put down the tin cups which had contained the inviting drink, Pike exclaimed:

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” asked Mr. Sheldon.

“I heard a gunshot as shore as shootin’!” said Pike.

He hurried outside, followed by all of us.

“Thar’s no doubt about it,” said Pike. “Look at the mules down thar! They’ve got thar ears perked up. They’ve heard somethin’ more than the wind.”

We listened attentively, and presently we heard the distant but distinct report of a pistol shot, followed in a moment by another.

“A careless party of gold hunters, probably,” said Mr. Sheldon.

“Suppose we find out,” said Pike.

I knew that Pike had Halftrigger and his crew in mind.

“Your proposition is a sensible one,” said Mr. Sheldon. “In this part of the world a man ought to know who his neighbors are, if he have any, and we will proceed to discover the cause of those pistol shots.”

Even as he spoke we heard the report of another shot.

“It’s jest as well to be cautious in a wild country like this,” said Pike, “so part of us had better stay here an’ look after the mules an’ things, while the rest uv us go on the scout.”

It was quickly arranged that Pike, Mr. Sheldon and I should go on the expedition. The others, much to their discontent, had to stay behind and watch the things.

Pike had marked the direction of the shots, and seizing our arms, we hurried off. Pike took the lead and stepping with lightness, warned us to do likewise. There was a very serious look on Pike’s face and I was still sure that he, as well as I, had Halftrigger in mind. Our course led down the valley and thence among some trees and up a gentle acclivity.

We heard no more shots as we passed along, but Pike said he was confident that we would have little trouble in ascertaining the cause of the reports. When we came out of the grove, which like a curtain had screened the landscape beyond from our view. Pike pointed to a thin blue line across the sky and said:

“It’s easy enough to find the people we are lookin’ fur. They’re over thar.”

The thin blue line was smoke, and it came from another grove of trees which lay a short distance beyond the hill.

“It is as I thought,” said Mr. Sheldon. “Some party of miners.”

“I don’t think so,” replied Pike. “The fact is, Mr. Sheldon, we know that a bad crowd from Frisco wuz comin’ out this way, and I’ve a notion this is it.”

Then Pike, inspired by Mr. Sheldon’s frankness and evident honesty, gave the thread of our story, which was able to do in a few words, suppressing the principal facts about Pedro and his violent death.

“Ha!” exclaimed Mr, Sheldon, when he had finished, “this becomes interesting, and considering the scarcity of travel in this part of the country it is altogether probable that your enemies are in the grove down there. In that event we should approach with great caution.”

The column of smoke issued from the far edge of a grove, and as the latter was plentifully interspersed with undergrowth, it was easy to stalk the camp which yet lay concealed from us. When we reached the undergrowth we dropped upon our knees, and Pike, still leading, crawled in the direction of the smoke.

Soon we heard a chatter of voices. With a muttered word of caution Pike sank lower and listened. Presently he turned and looked significantly at me. I knew what he meant, for I detected one voice that I knew rising above all the others. It was Halftrigger’s. We crawled a little closer, and through the tangled warp of the undergrowth we looked down into a little glen. In the centre of the glen a fire was burning, and scattered about it in lounging attitudes were a number of men. Just beyond the blaze, his face, looking more sinister than ever with the firelight flickering on it, was Halftrigger. Near him sat Spanish Pete and the one whom he had called Steve.

It seemed from the fact of his having such a strong party that Halftrigger must have expected trouble with us. Evidently he had a crowd of congenial spirits around him, for all looked like the devil’s children. Crime was written upon every face as indelibly as the epitaph is cut upon a tombstone. In truth, a mongrel lot were they. There was one man with a brown face, bare feet and great rings in his ears whom I learned afterwards to be a Moor.

Halftrigger was speaking in a loud tone and there was an angry flush on,his face.

“You’re the most careless crew o’ scamps I ever had under me,” he was saying. “Here you go drinking whiskey and firin’ off pistols jest to make a noise, when ye may be tellin’ them who we don’t want to know it that we’re about. Curse me ef I haven’t a good mind to throw the whole pack o’ ye overboard an’ go an hunt the gold by myself.”

At this there were loud murmurs from the other men and protestations of future good behavior.

“When ye make a promise,” said Halftrigger, “ye won’t keep it. Who took ye on this cruise? Who made ye partners in the profits that we’re goin’ to make? I did it for the secret is mine. Now, I’m cap-t’in here, an’ by the livin’ Jehosephat, ef ye don’t obey my orders I’ll heave every infernal scoundrel o’ ye overboard an’ leave ye to swim fur yerselves. You hear me, don’t ye?”

His fierce energy seemed to make an impression upon his cutthroat band, for they cowered before him and made many promises.

“Wa’al, now, see that ye do jest eggzackly as I tell ye,” said Halftrigger, rearing up his gigantic form, “or by the old Nick I’ll break ye in two as I would a scrap o’ wood.”

Then he swaggered over to the other side of the fire, snapping his fingers and singing:

Spanish Pete, who seemed to act as the lieutenant of the band, asked if they were not approaching very near to their destination.

“’Bout two days’ journey, now,” said Halftrigger. “I don’t know the exact spot, but I don’t think we’ll have much trouble in findin’ it; that is, unless we meet that infernal hunter an’ his gang. But ef we do meet ’em there is a strong crowd of us, an’ this wild country out here don’t tell any more tales than the sea does.”

Halftrigger made a sinister gesture with his forefinger and laughed. Spanish Pete joined him in the laughter. I understood what they meant, though I had known already what to expect in case these fellows should get the upper hand with us.

“Do you think we will meet with them Captain?” asked the Spaniard.

“More’n probable,” replied Halftrigger. “That’s the reason I let all these follows here into the secret. You don’t suppose I brought ’em along just because I’m so good I want to make ’em rich an’ happy, do you?”

Halftrigger laughed in a sneering way, and the Spaniard made no answer.

“I would infer that the gentlemen out there who talk so lightly of assassination are those for whom you are looking?” whispered Mr. Sheldon in my ear.

I nodded.

“And I would infer also,” continued Mr. Sheldon, “that the persons of whose futures they dispose so lightly are your party.”

I nodded again.

“My advice to your friends, then,” continued Mr. Sheldon, “is that of a distinguished American, to trust in the Lord and keep your powder dry.”

I nodded a third time.

Halftrigger and his lieutenant were now discussing the direction in which the hidden mine lay.

“We’re to go up the dry bed of a river and beyond a curve,” Halftrigger was saying when his words were interrupted by a curse and the sound of a blow.

At the far edge of the glen two men had risen suddenly to their feet and were facing each other with knives in their hands. They were truculent ruffians, and what the quarrel was about I know not, but they were bent upon murder. They began to circle around each other like two fierce beasts, each in search of an opening for a blow.

Halftrigger ran across the glen and struck up their knives with the butt of his pistol. Then he hurled them back, exclaiming:

“Haven’t you men any more sense than to fight each other when we’re out on a cruise. Kain’t you save your knives for your enemies ’stead o’ whettin’ ’em on each other? What d’ye s’pose I brought you along fur? I’ve a good mind to hammer the brains out o’ both o’ ye with the butt o’ this pistol o’ mine—that is ef ye’ve got any brains in them skulls o’ yours.”

Halftrigger looked powerful enough and determined enough to carry out his threat, and the men shrank from him.

“He struck me,” said one.

“He called me a liar,” said the other.

“Probably both o’ ye are liars on general principles,” said Halftrigger, “I kain’t say ye’ve got truth written very plain on them countenances o’ yours. But that don’t matter. Put up your knives.”

The men sullenly put their weapons back in their belts, and Halftrigger added, significantly tapping the barrel of his pistol:

“Now you keep ’em until I tell you to use ’em or I’ll let you have a dose out o’ this that’ll make you seasick.”

“An amiable commander and an amiable crew,” commented Mr. Sheldon.

With one more threatening glance Halftrigger turned away from the two men. It would have been evident even to the most casual observer that he was the master villain in that crowd of villains.

We listened a few minutes longer, and we gathered from the conversation of the desperadoes that they intended to push on in a half hour for the hidden mine. They feared that we were ahead of them, and the tenor of their talk indicated that we had inspired them with a wholesome respect for our courage and physical prowess, wherefore I. experienced much satisfaction. Curious, is it not, that man, no matter how highly civilized he may become, is more sensitive about his courage than anything else.

Pike presently gave us the signal to withdraw, whispering that we had learned about all they had to tell and that it was time for us to be on the march.

We began to creep out of the thicket, but before we had gone a dozen feet Mr. Sheldon incautiously brought his full weight down upon a stick and it broke with a sharp snap.

The sound was distinctly audible in the glen and the desperadoes were startled by it.

“What noise was that?” exclaimed Halftrigger.

“Sounded like a stick breaking,” said one of the men.

Halftrigger drew a pistol, started toward the under growth, and then paused as if uncertain.

“Ef he comes into this brush,” said Pike, “I’ll put a bullet through his heart and risk a fight with his gang.”

He drew his pistol as he spoke, and his determined manner showed that he had taken his resolution.

“I think it was merely some wild animal in the brush, Captain,” said the Spaniard.

“Well I’ll give it a scare, whatever it wuz ” said Halftrigger. “Some o’ the fellows hev been firin’ pistol shots .already, an’ another won’t hurt.”

He raised his pistol and fired into the underbrush. The bullet clipped a twig over my head and, passing on, buried itself in the hillside. We lay still and Halftrigger returned the pistol to his belt, apparently satisfied. Then we resumed our retreat and were soon out of the undergrowth.

On our return to the tree we explained our expedition and its incidents more fully to Mr. Sheldon, We invited him to share alike in our adventures and the gold that we might find. But he shook his head.

“It is a temptation, I will admit,” he said, “but I must continue my role of hermit. But I will say that if at any time you need assistance and any of you can reach me or can send me a message here do not hesitate to do so. Mr. Halftrigger means you mischief, and though I am not a bloodthirsty individual it would not rest heavy upon my conscience if I were compelled to send a ball through his head.”

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