The Comstock Club Part 10

So the conversation ran on for an hour, until something was said which turned the conversation upon the strange characters which had been met on the western coast. At length the Colonel settled down for a talk, and the others became willing listeners.

"I have met many royal people on this coast," began the Colonel. "Royal, though they never wore crowns, at least crowns not visible in the dim light of this world. The emblems of their royalty were hidden from most mortal eyes. In narrow spheres they lived and died, and only a few, besides G.o.d, knew of their sovereignty. One of these was

OLD ZACK TAYLOR.

"His last years were pa.s.sed in Plumas and La.s.sen counties, California.

When he came there his hair was already silvered; he must have been fifty years of age.

"No one knew his antecedents. In the excitements and free-heartedness of those days not many questions were asked. Besides the young and hopeful there were many who had sought the new land as a balm for domestic troubles; as a spot where former misfortunes might be forgotten, where early mistakes might, in earnest lives, be buried out of sight. With the rest came Zack Taylor. From the first that region seemed to possess a charm for him. No person can imagine the splendor in natural scenery of Plumas county. It must be seen to be comprehended. The mountains are tremendous; the valleys are so fair that they seem like pictures in their mountain frames. And so they are. They are the work of a Master's hand, whose work never fades. His signet is upon them as it was indented, when, in the long ago, it was decided that at last the earth was fitted to be a habitation for man.

"The forests are such forests as are no where seen in this world, except in the Pacific States of the United States. There is no exaggeration in this. Ordinary pines will make ten thousand feet of lumber, and they stand very near together, those mighty pines of the Sierras.

"The panoramas that are unrolled there when nature is in the picture-making mood are most gorgeous. Some that I saw there linger fresh upon my mind still. They come to me sometimes when I am down in the depths of the mine, and for a moment I forget the heat and the gloom.

"As a rule, all the summer long, the skies are of a crystal clearness; the green of the hill tops melts into the everlasting incandescent white beyond, and there is no change for days and weeks at a time, except as the green of the day fades into the shadows of the night, and the gold of the sunlight gives place to the silver of the stars.

"It was to this region that Zack Taylor came and made his abode. About him was an air of perfect contentment. Besides his blanching hair, there were deep lines about his face, which were an alphabet from which could be spelled out stories of past excitements and trials, but if sorrows and sufferings were included, the firm lips gave no sign, and the bright, black eyes were ever kindly. There were rumors that he had been a soldier, but the general impression was, that from childhood, he had been tossed about on the frontier. He had the moods, the gestures and dialect of the frontier. He liked wild game cooked upon a camp fire, and, in frontier phrase, he could 'punish a heap of whisky.'

"He was at home everywhere; in the saloons his coming was always welcome; when he met a lady on the street, no matter whether she was young or old, fair or ugly, he always doffed his hat, and the few children of those early days looked upon him as a father--or an angel.

He had a cheery, hearty, winsome way about him which drew all hearts to him.

"When I saw him last the gray hair had turned to snowy white; the scars of time had grooved deeper furrows on cheek and brow, the old elastic, merry way had grown sedate, but the black eyes were still kindly and bright. At that time he lived, a welcome pauper, on the citizens of Susanville, in La.s.sen county.

"When hungry he went where he pleased and got food; when he needed clothes they were forthcoming in any store where he applied for them.

When, sometimes, merchants would in jest banter him for money on account of what he owed, his way was to softly suggest to them that if the patronage of the place did not, in their judgments, justify them in remaining; there was no const.i.tutional objection that he was aware of to prevent their making an auction.

"One fearfully cold winter's night a few of us were sitting around the stove in the Stewart House, in Susanville, when old Zack came in. The circle was widened for him, and as he drew up to the fire, some one said: 'Zack, tell us about that night's work when you tended bar for the poker players?'

"'Itwusdown on Noth Fok (North Fork) of Feather River, 'bout '52 or '53, I disremember which,' began Zack. 'It wus in the winter, and it being too cold for mining, ther boys wus all in camp. Thar wus no women thar, least ways, no ladies, and women as isn't ladies--but we dun no who thar mothers wus, nor how much they has suffered, and we haint got no business to talk about 'em. But, as I wus sayin', the boys wus all in camp, and thar wus lots of beans and whisky and sich things, and we hed good times, you bet!

"Jake Clark kept a saloon thar, which wus sort of headquarters, and sometimes when the boys got warmed up on Jake's whisky thar wus lively times. Well, I _should_ remark. It wussent much wonder, neither, for Jake made his whisky in the back room, made it out of old boots, akerfortis and sich things, and if you believe me, a fire a.s.say of that beverage would have shown 93 per cent, of cl'ar h.e.l.l. Thar wus three or four copies of Shakespeare in camp, and everbody got a Sacermento _Union_ every week when the express came in; so we kept posted solid.

Speakin' of that, if folks only jest stick to Shakespeare and then paternize one first-cla.s.s paper, sich as the old _Union_ wus, and read 'em, in the long run they'd have a heap more sense.

"'Of course the boys would play poker sometimes. Men will always do that when the reproach in honest women's eyes is taken away, and I have heard, now and then, of one who would play in spite of good influences.

At least thar is rumors to that effect.

"'Well, they wus playin' one night, five or six of them, inter Jake's saloon. It got to be about ten o'clock, and Jake says to me, says he, 'Zack, them fellers is playin' and will most likely run it all night. By mornin' Tom D. will have the hul pile, and Tom never pays nuthin'. I'm goin' home. You run the ranch, Zack, and when they call for it you give 'em whisky outer this 'ere keg, so if they never pay we won't lose too much." This he told me in a low voice behind the bar, in confidence like.

"'Jake started for home and I went on watch. Thar wus lots of coin and dust on the table and the boys wus playin' high. I stood behind the bar and watched 'em, and as I watched I said to myself, says I, "The doggoned cusses! They come here and b.u.m Jake's fuel and lights, and drink his whisky, and don't pay nuthin'. It's too bad."

"'Then an idea struck me. I had a log of fat pine in the back yard. It wus fuller of pitch than Bill Pardee is of religion in revival times, and I thought of somethin'. I went out, got a lot of the pitch, warmed it in the candle down behind the bar and rubbed it all along the bottom of my hands, so, and then I waited developments.

"'Pretty soon thar wus a call for whisky. I started out with a bottle in one hand and a gla.s.s in the other, and, setting down the gla.s.s first, I said, "'Ere's your gla.s.s," and settin' down the bottle, said, "'Ere's your whisky."

"'They drank all 'round, when Harlow Porter said: "This is mine, Zack."

I argued the pint with him and asked him how a man could furnish a house, lights, fires and whisky, and keep it up if n.o.body paid? They told me to "hire a hall," and all laughed. It wus only old Zack, you know.

"'But I did tolerable well after all. When I sat down the gla.s.s half a dollar stuck to my hand, and when I sat down the whisky the other hand caught up a two and a half piece.

"'The playin' went on, and I warmed my hands. By and by more whisky wus called for. I responded. Once more I said, '"Ere's your gla.s.s," and "'Ere's your whisky." They drank, and then Henry Moore said to Hugh Richmond: "Why don't you ante?" "I have," wus Hugh's reply; "I jist put up five dollars." "No you didn't," said Henry. "Yes I did," said Hugh, hotly. "You're a liar," said Miller, and then biff! biff! biff! came the blows.

"'I got down behind the bar, for some of them cusses would shoot if half a chance wus given them. The truth wus, I had picked up the five with my pitch when I said "'Ere's your whisky."

"'The boys got hold and stopped the row and the players proceeded. The oftener they drank the wurs bookkeepers they became, and all the time I wus doin' reasonably well.

"'Durin' the night I took in eighty-three dollars and seen a beautiful fight.

"'I didn't tell of it, though, for nigh onto three year, 'cept to Jake.

It nearly killed me to keep it to myself. But Lord! wouldn't they have made it tropic for me if they'd ever dropped on the business! Well, I should remark!'

"When Zack finished his story I asked if he would not take something.

"He remarked that he was not particularly proud and, besides, the weather was 'powerful sarchin';' he believed he would.

"He swallowed a stiff drink, returned to the stove, resumed his seat, began and told the whole story over, except that the whisky was having its effect, and as he drew towards the close he commenced to exaggerate, and wound up by the a.s.sertion that he took in one hundred and sixty dollars and saw two tremendous fights.

"Some one else asked him to drink. He accepted, then returned to his chair and apparently fell into a doze. After a few minutes, however, he aroused himself and began again, as follows:

"'It wus down on North Fok of Feather River, in '52 or '53, I disremember which. It was in the winter, and it bein' too cold for minin' ther boys wus all in camp. Thar wus no women thar, leastways no ladies, and women as is no ladies--but we dun no.'

"Here I arose and slipped out of the room. Returning about fifteen minutes later. I found old Zack gesticulating wildly and in a high key exclaiming:

"'I everlastingly broke the boys with my pitch. I took in _three hundred and forty-three dollars_ and seen three the _dod-durndest fights in the world_.'

"But it was not this that I began to tell. Three or four years before Zack's death, a courier announced to the people of Susanville that three days before, out near Deep Hole, on the desert eighty miles east of Susanville, a man had been killed by renegade Pi Ute Indians. The announcement made only a temporary impression, for such news was often brought to Susanville in those days. In a very few years eighty La.s.sen county men were murdered by Indians.

"A few days after the news of this particular murder was brought in, Susanville began to be vexed by the evident presence of a mysterious thief. If a hunter brought in a brace of grouse or rabbits and left them exposed for a little while they disappeared.

"If a string of trout were caught from the river and were left anywhere for a few minutes they were lost. Gardens were robbed of fruit and vegetables; blankets, flannels and groceries disappeared from stores.

The losses became unbearable at length, everybody was aroused and on the alert, but no thief could be discovered, though the depredations still went on. This continued for days and weeks, until the people became desperate, and many a threat was made that when the thief should finally be caught, in disposing of him the grim satisfaction of the frontier should be fully enjoyed. Old Zack was especially fierce in his denunciations.

"One morning a horseman dashed into town, his mustang coming in on a dead run. Reining up in front of the main hotel, he sprang down from his horse and to the people who came running to see what was the matter, he explained that half a mile from town, around the bend of the hill, in the old deserted cabin, he had found the widow of the man killed weeks before by the Indians; had found her and a nest of babies, and none of them with sufficient food or clothing.

"When the story was finished, men and women--half the population of the village--made a rush for the cabin. It was nearly concealed from view from the road by thick bushes, but they found the woman there and four little children. The woman seemed like one half dazed by sorrow and despair, but when questioned, she replied that she had been there five weeks. 'But how have you lived?' asked half a dozen voices in concert.

Then the woman explained that she and her children would have starved, had it not been for a kind old gentleman who brought her everything that she required.

"'Indeed,' she added, 'he brought me many things that I did not need, and which I felt that I ought not to accept, but he over-persuaded me, telling me that I did not know how rich he was, that his supplies were simply inexhaustible.

"When asked to describe this man, she began to say: 'He is a heavy-set old gentleman; wears blue clothes; his hair is white as snow, but his eyes are black, and--'but she was not allowed to go any farther, for twenty voices, between weeping and laughing, cried 'Old Zack!'

"The widow and her children were taken to the village, a house with its comforts provided for them, and there was, thenceforth, no more trouble from the ubiquitous thief.

"Living on charity himself, with the wreck of a life behind him and nothing before him but the grave, which he was swiftly nearing, this great-hearted, old heavenly b.u.mmer and Christian thief, had taken care of this helpless family, and had done it because despite the dry rot and the whisky which had benumbed his energies, his soul, deep down, was royal to the core.

"It is true that he had robbed the town to minister to the woman and her babies, but in the books of the angels, though it was written that he was a thief, in the same sentence it was also added, 'and G.o.d bless him,' and these words turned to gold even as they were being written.

"When Old Zack was asked why he did not make the facts about the family known, after waiting a moment he replied: