flip-a california romance-第1章

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Flip：　A　California　Romance


by　Bret　Harte









CHAPTER　I





Just　where　the　track　of　the　Los　Gatos　road　streams　on　and　upward

like　the　sinuous　trail　of　a　fiery　rocket　until　it　is　extinguished

in　the　blue　shadows　of　the　Coast　Range；　there　is　an　embayed　terrace

near　the　summit；　hedged　by　dwarf　firs。　　At　every　bend　of　the　heat…

laden　road　the　eye　rested　upon　it　wistfully；　all　along　the　flank　of

the　mountain；　which　seemed　to　pant　and　quiver　in　the　oven…like　air；

through　rising　dust；　the　slow　creaking　of　dragging　wheels；　the

monotonous　cry　of　tired　springs；　and　the　muffled　beat　of　plunging

hoofs；　it　held　out　a　promise　of　sheltered　coolness　and　green

silences　beyond。　　Sunburned　and　anxious　faces　yearned　toward　it

from　the　dizzy；　swaying　tops　of　stagecoaches；　from　lagging　teams

far　below；　from　the　blinding　white　canvas　covers　of　〃mountain

schooners；〃　and　from　scorching　saddles　that　seemed　to　weigh　down

the　scrambling；　sweating　animals　beneath。　　But　it　would　seem　that

the　hope　was　vain；　the　promise　illusive。　　When　the　terrace　was

reached　it　appeared　not　only　to　have　caught　and　gathered　all　the

heat　of　the　valley　below；　but　to　have　evolved　a　fire　of　its　own

from　some　hidden　crater…like　source　unknown。　　Nevertheless；　instead

of　prostrating　and　enervating　man　and　beast；　it　was　said　to　have

induced　the　wildest　exaltation。　　The　heated　air　was　filled　and

stifling　with　resinous　exhalations。　　The　delirious　spices　of　balm；

bay；　spruce；　juniper；　yerba　buena；　wild　syringa；　and　strange

aromatic　herbs　as　yet　unclassified；　distilled　and　evaporated　in

that　mighty　heat；　and　seemed　to　fire　with　a　midsummer　madness　all

who　breathed　their　fumes。　　They　stung；　smarted；　stimulated；

intoxicated。　　It　was　said　that　the　most　jaded　and　foot…sore　horses

became　furious　and　ungovernable　under　their　influence；　wearied

teamsters　and　muleteers；　who　had　exhausted　their　profanity　in　the

ascent；　drank　fresh　draughts　of　inspiration　in　this　fiery　air；

extended　their　vocabulary；　and　created　new　and　startling　forms　of

objurgation。　　It　is　recorded　that　one　bibulous　stage…driver

exhausted　description　and　condensed　its　virtues　in　a　single　phrase：

〃Gin　and　ginger。〃　　This　felicitous　epithet；　flung　out　in　a　generous

comparison　with　his　favorite　drink；　〃rum　and　gum；〃　clung　to　it　ever

after。



Such　was　the　current　comment　on　this　vale　of　spices。　　Like　most

human　criticism　it　was　hasty　and　superficial。　　No　one　yet　had　been

known　to　have　penetrated　deeply　its　mysterious　recesses。　　It　was

still　far　below　the　summit　and　its　wayside　inn。　　It　had　escaped　the

intruding　foot　of　hunter　and　prospector；　and　the　inquisitive　patrol

of　the　county　surveyor　had　only　skirted　its　boundary。　　It　remained

for　Mr。　Lance　Harriott　to　complete　its　exploration。　　His　reasons

for　so　doing　were　simple。　　He　had　made　the　journey　thither

underneath　the　stage…coach；　and　clinging　to　its　axle。　　He　had

chosen　this　hazardous　mode　of　conveyance　at　night；　as　the　coach

crept　by　his　place　of　concealment　in　the　wayside　brush；　to　elude

the　sheriff　of　Monterey　County　and　his　posse；　who　were　after　him。



He　had　not　made　himself　known　to　his　fellow…passengers　as　they

already　knew　him　as　a　gambler；　an　outlaw；　and　a　desperado；　he

deemed　it　unwise　to　present　himself　in　a　newer　reputation　of　a　man

who　had　just　slain　a　brother　gambler　in　a　quarrel；　and　for　whom　a

reward　was　offered。　　He　slipped　from　the　axle　as　the　stage…coach

swirled　past　the　brushing　branches　of　fir；　and　for　an　instant　lay

unnoticed；　a　scarcely　distinguishable　mound　of　dust　in　the　broken

furrows　of　the　road。　　Then；　more　like　a　beast　than　a　man；　he　crept

on　his　hands　and　knees　into　the　steaming　underbrush。　　Here　he　lay

still　until　the　clatter　of　harness　and　the　sound　of　voices　faded　in

the　distance。　　Had　he　been　followed；　it　would　have　been　difficult

to　detect　in　that　inert　mass　of　rags　any　semblance　to　a　known　form

or　figure。　　A　hideous　reddish　mask　of　dust　and　clay　obliterated　his

face；　his　hands　were　shapeless　stumps　exaggerated　in　his　trailing

sleeves。　　And　when　he　rose；　staggering　like　a　drunken　man；　and

plunged　wildly　into　the　recesses　of　the　wood；　a　cloud　of　dust

followed　him；　and　pieces　and　patches　of　his　frayed　and　rotten

garments　clung　to　the　impeding　branches。　　Twice　he　fell；　but；

maddened　and　upheld　by　the　smarting　spices　and　stimulating　aroma

of　the　air；　he　kept　on　his　course。



Gradually　the　heat　became　less　oppressive；　once　when　he　stopped　and

leaned　exhaustedly　against　a　sapling；　he　fancied　he　saw　the　zephyr

he　could　not　yet　feel　in　the　glittering　and　trembling　of　leaves　in

the　distance　before　him。　　Again　the　deep　stillness　was　moved　with　a

faint　sighing　rustle；　and　he　knew　he　must　be　nearing　the　edge　of

the　thicket。　　The　spell　of　silence　thus　broken　was　followed　by　a

fainter；　more　musical　interruptionthe　glassy　tinkle　of　water！　　A

step　further　his　foot　trembled　on　the　verge　of　a　slight　ravine；

still　closely　canopied　by　the　interlacing　boughs　overhead。　　A　tiny

stream　that　he　could　have　dammed　with　his　hand　yet　lingered　in

this　parched　red　gash　in　the　hillside　and　trickled　into　a　deep；

irregular；　well…like　cavity；　that　again　overflowed　and　sent　its

slight　surplus　on。　　It　had　been　the　luxurious　retreat　of　many　a

spotted　trout；　it　was　to　be　the　bath　of　Lance　Harriott。　　Without　a

moment's　hesitation；　without　removing　a　single　garment；　he　slipped

cautiously　into　it；　as　if　fearful　of　losing　a　single　drop。　　His

head　disappeared　from　the　level　of　the　bank；　the　solitude　was　again

unbroken。　　Only　two　objects　remained　upon　the　edge　of　the　ravine；

his　revolver　and　tobacco　pouch。



A　few　minutes　elapsed。　　A　fearless　blue　jay　alighted　on　the　bank

and　made　a　prospecting　peck　at　the　tobacco　pouch。　　It　yielded　in

favor　of　a　gopher；　who　endeavored　to　draw　it　toward　his　hole；　but

in　turn　gave　way　to　a　red　squirrel；　whose　attention　was　divided；

however；　between　the　pouch　and　the　revolver；　which　he　regarded　with

mischievous　fascination。　　Then　there　was　a　splash；　a　grunt；　a

sudden　dispersion　of　animated　nature；　and　the　head　of　Mr。　Lance

Harriott　appeared　above　the　bank。　　It　was　a　startling　transformation。

Not　only　that　he　had；　by　this　wholesale　process；　washed　himself　and

his　light　〃drill〃　garments　entirely　clean；　but　that　he　had；

apparently　by　the　same　operation；　morally　cleansed　HIMSELF；　and　left

every　stain　and　ugly　blot　of　his　late　misdeeds　and　reputation　in　his

bath。　　His　face；　albeit　scratched　here　and　there；　was　rosy；　round；

shining　with　irrepressible　good　humor　and　youthful　levity。　　His

large　blue　eyes　were　infantine　in　their　innocent　surprise　and

thoughtlessness。　　Dripping　yet　with　water；　and　panting；　he　rested

his　elbows　lazily　on　the　bank；　and　became　instantly　absorbed　with　a

boy's　delight　in　the　movements　of　the　gopher；　who；　after　the　first

alarm；　returned　cautiously　to　abduct　the　tobacco　pouch。　　If　any

familiar　had　failed　to　detect　Lance　Harriott　in　this　hideous

masquerade　of　dust　and　grime　and　tatters；　still　less　would　any

passing　stranger　have　recognized　in　this　blond　faun　the　possible

outcast　and　murderer。　　And；　when　with　a　swirl　of　his　spattering

sleeve；　he　drove　back　the　gopher　in　a　shower　of　spray　and　leaped　to

the　bank；　he　seemed　to　have　accepted　his　felonious　hiding…place　as　a

mere　picnicking　bower。



A　slight　breeze　was　unmistakably　permeating　the　wood　from　the　west。

Looking　in　that　direction；　Lance　imagined　that　the　shadow　was　less

dark；　and　although　the　undergrowth　was　denser；　he　struck　off

carelessly　toward　it。　　As　he　went　on；　the　wood　became　lighter　and

lighter；　branches；　and　presently　leaves；　were　painted　against　the

vivid　blue　of　the　sky。　　He　knew　he　must　be　near　the　summit；

stopped；　felt　for　his　revolver；　and　then　lightly　put　the　few

remaining　branches　aside。



The　full　glare　of　the　noonday　sun　at　first　blinded　him。　　When　he

could　see　more　clearly；　he　found　himself　on　the　open　western　slope

of　the　mountain；　which　in　the　Coast　Range　was　seldom　woo