The Three Partners

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THE THREE PARTNERS

By Bret Harte




PROLOGUE.


The sun was going down on the Black Spur Range. The red light it had
kindled there was still eating its way along the serried crest, showing
through gaps in the ranks of pines, etching out the interstices of
broken boughs, fading away and then flashing suddenly out again like
sparks in burnt-up paper. Then the night wind swept down the whole
mountain side, and began its usual struggle with the shadows upclimbing
from the valley, only to lose itself in the end and be absorbed in the
all-conquering darkness. Yet for some time the pines on the long slope
of Heavy Tree Hill murmured and protested with swaying arms; but as the
shadows stole upwards, and cabin after cabin and tunnel after tunnel
were swallowed up, a complete silence followed. Only the sky remained
visible--a vast concave mirror of dull steel, in which the stars did not
seem to be set, but only reflected.

A single cabin door on the crest of Heavy Tree Hill had remained open to
the wind and darkness. Then it was slowly shut by an invisible figure,
afterwards revealed by the embers of the fire it was stirring. At first
only this figure brooding over the hearth was shown, but as the flames
leaped up, two other figures could be seen sitting motionless before it.
When the door was shut, they acknowledged that interruption by slightly
changing their position; the one who had risen to shut the door sank
back into an invisible seat, but the attitude of each man was one of
profound reflection or reserve, and apparently upon some common subject
which made them respect each other's silence. However, this was at last
broken by a laugh. It was a boyish laugh, and came from the youngest of
the party. The two others turned their profiles and glanced inquiringly
towards him, but did not speak.

"I was thinking," he began in apologetic explanation, "how mighty queer
it was that while we were working like niggers on grub wages, without
the ghost of a chance of making a strike, how we used to sit here, night
after night, and flapdoodle and speculate about what we'd do if we ever
DID make one; and now, Great Scott! that we HAVE made it, and are just
wallowing in gold, here we are sitting as glum and silent as if we'd
had a washout! Why, Lord! I remember one night--not so long ago,
either--that you two quarreled over the swell hotel you were going to
stop at in 'Frisco, and whether you wouldn't strike straight out for
London and Rome and Paris, or go away to Japan and China and round by
India and the Red Sea."

"No, we didn't QUARREL over it," said one of the figures gently; "there
was only a little discussion."

"Yes, but you did, though," returned the young fellow mischievously,
"and you told Stacy, there, that we'd better learn something of the
world before we tried to buy it or even hire it, and that it was just
as well to get the hayseed out of our hair and the slumgullion off our
boots before we mixed in polite society."

"Well, I don't see what's the matter with that sentiment now," returned
the second speaker good-humoredly; "only," he added gravely, "we didn't
quarrel--God forbid!"

There was something in the speaker's tone which seemed to touch a common
chord in their natures, and this was voiced by Barker with sudden and
almost pathetic earnestness. "I tell you what, boys, we ought to swear
here to-night to always stand by each other--in luck and out of it! We
ought to hold ourselves always at each other's call. We ought to have
a kind of password or signal, you know, by which we could summon each
other at any time from any quarter of the globe!"

"Come off the roof, Barker," murmured Stacy, without lifting his eyes
from the fire. But Demorest smiled and glanced tolerantly at the younger
man.

"Yes, but look here, Stacy," continued Barker, "comrades like us, in
the old days, used to do that in times of trouble and adventures. Why
shouldn't we do it in our luck?"

"There's a good deal in that, Barker boy," said Demorest, "though, as
a general thing, passwords butter no parsnips, and the ordinary,
every-day, single yelp from a wolf brings the whole pack together for
business about as quick as a password. But you cling to that sentiment,
and put it away with your gold-dust in your belt."

"What I like about Barker is his commodiousness," said Stacy. "Here he
is, the only man among us that has his future fixed and his preemption
lines laid out and registered. He's already got a girl that he's going
to marry and settle down with on the strength of his luck. And I'd like
to know what Kitty Carter, when she's Mrs. Barker, would say to her
husband being signaled for from Asia or Africa. I don't seem to see her
tumbling to any password. And when he and she go into a new partnership,
I reckon she'll let the old one slide."

"That's just where you're wrong!" said Barker, with quickly rising
color. "She's the sweetest girl in the world, and she'd be sure to
understand our feelings. Why, she thinks everything of you two; she was
just eager for you to get this claim, which has put us where we are,
when I held back, and if it hadn't been for her, by Jove! we wouldn't
have had it."

"That was only because she cared for YOU," returned Stacy, with a
half-yawn; "and now that you've got YOUR share she isn't going to take
a breathless interest in US. And, by the way, I'd rather YOU'D remind us
that we owe our luck to her than that SHE should ever remind YOU of it."

"What do you mean?" said Barker quickly. But Demorest here rose lazily,
and, throwing a gigantic shadow on the wall, stood between the two with
his back to the fire. "He means," he said slowly, "that you're talking
rot, and so is he. However, as yours comes from the heart and his from
the head, I prefer yours. But you're both making me tired. Let's have a
fresh deal."

Nobody ever dreamed of contradicting Demorest. Nevertheless, Barker
persisted eagerly: "But isn't it better for us to look at this
cheerfully and happily all round? There's nothing criminal in our having
made a strike! It seems to me, boys, that of all ways of making money
it's the squarest and most level; nobody is the poorer for it; our luck
brings no misfortune to others. The gold was put there ages ago for
anybody to find; we found it. It hasn't been tarnished by man's touch
before. I don't know how it strikes you, boys, but it seems to me
that of all gifts that are going it is the straightest. For whether we
deserve it or not, it comes to us first-hand--from God!"

The two men glanced quickly at the speaker, whose face flushed and then
smiled embarrassedly as if ashamed of the enthusiasm into which he had
been betrayed. But Demorest did not smile, and Stacy's eyes shone in the
firelight as he said languidly, "I never heard that prospecting was a
religious occupation before. But I shouldn't wonder if you're right,
Barker boy. So let's liquor up."

Nevertheless he did not move, nor did the others. The fire leaped
higher, bringing out the rude rafters and sternly economic details of
the rough cabin, and making the occupants in their seats before the fire
look gigantic by contrast.

"Who shut the door?" said Demorest after a pause.

"I did," said Barker. "I reckoned it was getting cold."

"Better open it again, now that the fire's blazing. It will light the
way if any of the men from below want to drop in this evening."

Stacy stared at his companion. "I thought that it was understood that
we were giving them that dinner at Boomville tomorrow night, so that we
might have the last evening here by ourselves in peace and quietness?"

"Yes, but if any one DID want to come it would seem churlish to shut him
out," said Demorest.

"I reckon you're feeling very much as I am," said Stacy, "that this good
fortune is rather crowding to us three alone. For myself, I know," he
continued, with a backward glance towards a blanketed, covered pile
in the corner of the cabin, "that I feel rather oppressed by--by its
specific gravity, I calculate--and sort of crampy and twitchy in the
legs, as if I ought to 'lite' out and do something, and yet it holds
me here. All the same, I doubt if anybody will come up--except from
curiosity. Our luck has made them rather sore down the hill, for all
they're coming to the dinner to-morrow."

"That's only human nature," said Demorest.

"But," said Barker eagerly, "what does it mean? Why, only this
afternoon, when I was passing the 'Old Kentuck' tunnel, where those
Marshalls have been grubbing along for four years without making a
single strike, I felt ashamed to look at them, and as they barely nodded
to me I slinked by as if I had done them an injury. I don't understand
it."

"It somehow does not seem to square with this 'gift of God' idea of
yours, does it?" said Stacy. "But we'll open the door and give them a
show."

As he did so it seemed as if the night were their only guest, and had
been waiting on the threshold to now enter bodily and pervade all things
with its presence. With that cool, fragrant inflow of air they breathed
freely. The red edge had gone from Black Spur, but it was even more
clearly defined against the sky in its towering blackness. The
sky itself had grown lighter, although the stars still seemed mere
reflections of the solitary pin-points of light scattered along the
concave valley below. Mingling with the cooler, restful air of the
summit, yet penetratingly distinct from it, arose the stimulating breath
of the pines below, still hot and panting from the day-long sun. The
silence was intense. The far-off barking of a dog on the invisible
river-bar nearly a mile beneath them came to them like a sound in a
dream. They had risen, and, standing in the doorway, by common consent
turned their faces to the east. It was the frequent attitude of the
home-remembering miner, and it gave him the crowning glory of the view.
For, beyond the pine-hearsed summits, rarely seen except against the
evening sky, lay a thin, white cloud like a dropped portion of the Milky
Way. Faint with an indescribable pallor, remote yet distinct enough to
assert itself above and beyond all surrounding objects, it was always
there. It was the snow-line of the Sierras.

They turned away and silently reseated themselves, the same thought
in the minds of each. Here was something they could not take away,
something to be left forever and irretrievably behind,--left with the
healthy life they had been leading, the cheerful endeavor, the undying
hopefulness which it had fostered and blessed. Was what they WERE taking
away worth it? And oddly enough, frank and outspoken as they had always
been to each other, that common thought remained unuttered. Even Barker
was silent; perhaps he was also thinking of Kitty.

Suddenly two figures appeared in the very doorway of the cabin. The
effect was startling upon the partners, who had only just reseated
themselves, and for a moment they had forgotten that the narrow band
of light which shot forth from the open door rendered the darkness on
either side of it more impenetrable, and that out of this darkness,
although themselves guided by the light, the figures had just emerged.
Yet one was familiar enough. It was the Hill drunkard, Dick Hall, or,
as he was called, "Whiskey Dick," or, indicated still more succinctly by
the Hill humorists, "Alky Hall."

Everybody had seen that sodden, puffy, but good-humored face; everybody
had felt the fiery exhalations of that enormous red beard, which always
seemed to be kept in a state of moist, unkempt luxuriance by liquor;
everybody knew the absurd dignity of manner and attempted precision of
statement with which he was wont to disguise his frequent excesses.
Very few, however, knew, or cared to know, the pathetic weariness and
chilling horror that sometimes looked out of those bloodshot eyes.

He was evidently equally unprepared for the three silent seated figures
before the door, and for a moment looked at them blankly with the doubts
of a frequently deceived perception. Was he sure that they were quite
real? He had not dared to look at his companion for verification, but
smiled vaguely.

"Good-evening," said Demorest pleasantly.

Whiskey Dick's face brightened. "Good-evenin', good-evenin' yourselves,
boys--and see how you like it! Lemme interdrush my ole frien' William
J. Steptoe, of Red Gulch. Stepsho--Steptoe--is shtay--ish stay--"
He stopped, hiccupped, waved his hand gravely, and with an air of
reproachful dignity concluded, "sojourning for the present on the Bar.
We wish to offer our congrashulashen and felish--felish--" He paused
again, and, leaning against the door-post, added severely, "--itations."

His companion, however, laughed coarsely, and, pushing past Dick,
entered the cabin. He was a short, powerful man, with a closely cropped
crust of beard and hair that seemed to adhere to his round head like
moss or lichen. He cast a glance--furtive rather than curious around
the cabin, and said, with a familiarity that had not even good humor
to excuse it, "So you're the gay galoots who've made the big strike?
Thought I'd meander up the Hill with this old bloat Alky, and drop in
to see the show. And here you are, feeling your oats, eh? and not caring
any particular G-d d--n if school keeps or not."

"Show Mr. Steptoe--the whiskey," said Demorest to Stacy. Then quietly
addressing Dick, but ignoring Steptoe as completely as Steptoe had
ignored his unfortunate companion, he said, "You quite startled us at
first. We did not see you come up the trail."

"No. We came up the back trail to please Steptoe, who wanted to see
round the cabin," said Dick, glancing nervously yet with a forced
indifference towards the whiskey which Stacy was offering to the
stranger.

"What yer gettin' off there?" said Steptoe, facing Dick almost brutally.
"YOU know your tangled legs wouldn't take you straight up the trail,
and you had to make a circumbendibus. Gosh! if you hadn't scented this
licker at the top you'd have never found it."

"No matter! I'm glad you DID find it, Dick," said Demorest, "and I hope
you'll find the liquor good enough to pay you for the trouble."

Barker stared at Demorest. This extraordinary tolerance of the drunkard
was something new in his partner. But at a glance from Demorest he led
Dick to the demijohn and tin cup which stood on a table in the corner.
And in another moment Dick had forgotten his companion's rudeness.

Demorest remained by the door, looking out into the darkness.

"Well," said Steptoe, putting down his emptied cup, "trot out your
strike. I reckon our eyes are strong enough to bear it now." Stacy drew
the blanket from the vague pile that stood in the corner, and discovered
a deep tin prospecting-pan. It was heaped with several large fragments
of quartz. At first the marble whiteness of the quartz and the
glittering crystals of mica in its veins were the most noticeable, but
as they drew closer they could see the dull yellow of gold filling the
decomposed and honeycombed portion of the rock as if still liquid and
molten. The eyes of the party sparkled like the mica--even those of
Barker and Stacy, who were already familiar with the treasure.

"Which is the richest chunk?" asked Steptoe in a thickening voice.

Stacy pointed it out.

"Why, it's smaller than the others."

"Heft it in your hand," said Barker, with boyish enthusiasm.

The short, thick fingers of Steptoe grasped it with a certain aquiline
suggestion; his whole arm strained over it until his face grew purple,
but he could not lift it.

"Thar useter be a little game in the 'Frisco Mint," said Dick, restored
to fluency by his liquor, "when thar war ladies visiting it, and that
was to offer to give 'em any of those little boxes of gold coin, that
contained five thousand dollars, ef they would kindly lift it from the
counter and take it away! It wasn't no bigger than one of these chunks;
but Jiminy! you oughter have seed them gals grip and heave on it, and
then hev to give it up! You see they didn't know anything about the
paci--(hic) the speshif--" He stopped with great dignity, and added with
painful precision, "the specific gravity of gold."

"Dry up!" said Steptoe roughly. Then turning to Stacy he said abruptly,
"But where's the rest of it? You've got more than that."

"We sent it to Boomville this morning. You see we've sold out our claim
to a company who take it up to-morrow, and put up a mill and stamps.
In fact, it's under their charge now. They've got a gang of men on the
claim already."

"And what mout ye hev got for it, if it's a fair question?" said
Steptoe, with a forced smile.

Stacy smiled also. "I don't know that it's a business question," he
said.

"Five hundred thousand dollars," said Demorest abruptly from the
doorway, "and a treble interest."

The eyes of the two men met. There was no mistaking the dull fire of
envy in Steptoe's glance, but Demorest received it with a certain cold
curiosity, and turned away as the sound of arriving voices came from
without.

"Five hundred thousand's a big figger," said Steptoe, with a coarse
laugh, "and I don't wonder it makes you feel so d----d sassy. But it WAS
a fair question."

Unfortunately it here occurred to the whiskey-stimulated brain of Dick
that the friend he had introduced was being treated with scant courtesy,
and he forgot his own treatment by Steptoe. Leaning against the wall he
waved a dignified rebuke. "I'm sashified my ole frien' is akshuated by
only businesh principles." He paused, recollected himself, and added
with great precision: "When I say he himself has a valuable claim in
Red Gulch, and to my shertain knowledge has received offers--I have said
enough."

The laugh that broke from Stacy and Barker, to whom the infelicitous
reputation of Red Gulch was notorious, did not allay Steptoe's
irritation. He darted a vindictive glance at the unfortunate Dick, but
joined in the laugh. "And what was ye goin' to do with that?" he said,
pointing to the treasure.

"Oh, we're taking that with us. There's a chunk for each of us as a
memento. We cast lots for the choice, and Demorest won,--that one which
you couldn't lift with one hand, you know," said Stacy.

"Oh, couldn't I? I reckon you ain't goin' to give me the same chance
that they did at the Mint, eh?"

Although the remark was accompanied with his usual coarse, familiar
laugh, there was a look in his eye so inconsequent in its significance
that Stacy would have made some reply, but at this moment Demorest
re-entered the cabin, ushering in a half dozen miners from the Bar
below. They were, although youngish men, some of the older locators in
the vicinity, yet, through years of seclusion and uneventful labors,
they had acquired a certain childish simplicity of thought and manner
that was alternately amusing and pathetic. They had never intruded upon
the reserve of the three partners of Heavy Tree Hill before; nothing but
an infantine curiosity, a shy recognition of the partners' courtesy in
inviting them with the whole population of Heavy Tree to the dinner the
next day, and the never-to-be-resisted temptation of an evening of "free
liquor" and forgetfulness of the past had brought them there now.
Among them, and yet not of them, was a young man who, although speaking
English without accent, was distinctly of a different nationality and
race. This, with a certain neatness of dress and artificial suavity
of address, had gained him the nickname of "the Count" and "Frenchy,"
although he was really of Flemish extraction. He was the Union Ditch
Company's agent on the Bar, by virtue of his knowledge of languages.

Barker uttered an exclamation of pleasure when he saw him. Himself the
incarnation of naturalness, he had always secretly admired this young
foreigner, with his lacquered smoothness, although a vague consciousness
that neither Stacy nor Demorest shared his feelings had restricted their
acquaintance. Nevertheless, he was proud now to see the bow with which
Paul Van Loo entered the cabin as if it were a drawing-room, and perhaps
did not reflect upon that want of real feeling in an act which made the
others uncomfortable.

The slight awkwardness their entrance produced, however, was quickly
forgotten when the blanket was again lifted from the pan of treasure.
Singularly enough, too, the same feverish light came into the eyes of
each as they all gathered around this yellow shrine. Even the polite
Paul rudely elbowed his way between the others, though his artificial
"Pardon" seemed to Barker to condone this act of brutal instinct. But it
was more instructive to observe the manner in which the older locators
received this confirmation of the fickle Fortune that had overlooked
their weary labors and years of waiting to lavish her favors on the new
and inexperienced amateurs. Yet as they turned their dazzled eyes upon
the three partners there was no envy or malice in their depths, no
reproach on their lips, no insincerity in their wondering satisfaction.
Rather there was a touching, almost childlike resumption of hope as they
gazed at this conclusive evidence of Nature's bounty. The gold had been
there--THEY had only missed it! And if there, more could be found! Was
it not a proof of the richness of Heavy Tree Hill? So strongly was this
reflected on their faces that a casual observer, contrasting them with
the thoughtful countenances of the real owners, would have thought them
the lucky ones. It touched Barker's quick sympathies, it puzzled Stacy,
it made Demorest more serious, it aroused Steptoe's active contempt.
Whiskey Dick alone remained stolid and impassive in a desperate attempt
to pull himself once more together. Eventually he succeeded, even to the
ambitious achievement of mounting a chair and lifting his tin cup with a
dangerously unsteady hand, which did not, however, affect his precision
of utterance, and said:--

"Order, gentlemen! We'll drink success to--to"--

"The next strike!" said Barker, leaping impetuously on another chair
and beaming upon the old locators--"and may it come to those who have so
long deserved it!"

His sincere and generous enthusiasm seemed to break the spell of silence
that had fallen upon them. Other toasts quickly followed. In the general
good feeling Barker attached himself to Van Loo with his usual boyish
effusion, and in a burst of confidence imparted the secret of his
engagement to Kitty Carter. Van Loo listened with polite attention,
formal congratulations, but inscrutable eyes, that occasionally wandered
to Stacy and again to the treasure. A slight chill of disappointment
came over Barker's quick sensitiveness. Perhaps his enthusiasm had bored
this superior man of the world. Perhaps his confidences were in bad
taste! With a new sense of his inexperience he turned sadly away. Van
Loo took that opportunity to approach Stacy.

"What's all this I hear of Barker being engaged to Miss Carter?" he
said, with a faintly superior smile. "Is it really true?"

"Yes. Why shouldn't it be?" returned Stacy bluntly.

Van Loo was instantly deprecating and smiling. "Why not, of course? But
isn't it sudden?"

"They have known each other ever since he's been on Heavy Tree Hill,"
responded Stacy.

"Ah, yes! True," said Van Loo. "But now"--

"Well--he's got money enough to marry, and he's going to marry."

"Rather young, isn't he?" said Van Loo, still deprecatingly. "And
she's got nothing. Used to wait on the table at her father's hotel in
Boomville, didn't she?"

"Yes. What of that? We all know it."

"Of course. It's an excellent thing for her--and her father. He'll have
a rich son-in-law. About two hundred thousand is his share, isn't it? I
suppose old Carter is delighted?"

Stacy had thought this before, but did not care to have it corroborated
by this superfine young foreigner. "And I don't reckon that Barker is
offended if he is," he said curtly as he turned away. Nevertheless, he
felt irritated that one of the three superior partners of Heavy Tree
Hill should be thought a dupe.

Suddenly the conversation dropped, the laughter ceased. Every one turned
round, and, by a common instinct, looked towards the door. From
the obscurity of the hill slope below came a wonderful tenor voice,
modulated by distance and spiritualized by the darkness:--

"When at some future day
I shall be far away,
Thou wilt be weeping,
Thy lone watch keeping."

The men looked at one another. "That's Jack Hamlin," they said. "What's
he doing here?"

"The wolves are gathering around fresh meat," said Steptoe, with his
coarse laugh and a glance at the treasure. "Didn't ye know he came over
from Red Dog yesterday?"

"Well, give Jack a fair show and his own game," said one of the old
locators, "and he'd clean out that pile afore sunrise."

"And lose it next day," added another.

"But never turn a hair or change a muscle in either case," said a third.
"Lord! I've heard him sing away just like that when he's been leaving
the board with five thousand dollars in his pocket, or going away
stripped of his last red cent."

Van Loo, who had been listening with a peculiar smile, here said in his
most deprecating manner, "Yes, but did you never consider the influence
that such a man has on the hard-working tunnelmen, who are ready to
gamble their whole week's earnings to him? Perhaps not. But I know the
difficulties of getting the Ditch rates from these men when he has been
in camp."