Sea to Sea 
 
 or 
 
 Just
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO 
 Donated in memory of 
 
 John W. Snvder 
 
 by 
 
 His Son and Daughter
 
 /
 
 "'OW DO YOTT DO? HI 'OPE HI SEK YOU WELL.
 
 DRIVEN 
 
 FROM SEA TO SEA ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 JUST A CAMPIN'. 
 
 BY C. C./ POST, 
 V 
 
 EDITOR OF " The Chicago Express. 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 J. E. DOWNEY & CO., 109 WABASH AVENUE, 
 
 I 884.
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the Yesr 1883, 
 
 BY C. C. POST. 
 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 All Rights Reserved.
 
 To THE WORKERS, the men and the women who have 
 given to America her greatness who have cleared away 
 her forests, bridged her streams, builded her cities, spanned 
 the continent and crossed and recrossed and checkered 
 it with highways of iron who have planted orchards 
 and vineyards upon every hillside and in every valley 
 between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, as they have 
 wandered from sea to sea \ in search of " that better 
 country, a few hundred or a thousand miles ahead," with 
 tales of which the cunning purloiners of their homes 
 have stifled their thoughts of vengeance and their long- 
 ings for juster laws, this story of one of their number is 
 respectfully dedicated by 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. THE LETTER, - 7 
 
 II. THE JOURNEY, - 19 
 
 III. THE REUNION, - 29 
 
 IV. EVICTION, 39 
 
 V. Ox THE MOVE AGAIN, -* 46 
 
 VI. BEGINNING A NEW HOME, 50 
 
 VII. A LAND FLOWING WITH MILK AND HONEY, - - 57 
 
 VIII. A COMFORTABLE HOMK, 63 
 
 IX. A TRIP TO THE CITY, . - 74 
 
 X. A SURPRISED ENGLISHMAN, - 88 
 XI. THE PICNIC - ... 100 
 
 XII. COURTSHIP, 109 
 
 XIII. VISITING THE MINES, - 121 
 
 XIV. DEEPENING SHADOWS, 135 
 
 XV. BUILDING THE DAM, - 149 
 
 XVI. THE DISAPPOINTED LOVER, - 160 
 
 XVII. DESOLATION, - - - 171 
 
 XVIII. DRIVEN TO THE MOUNTAINS, 185 
 
 XIX. THE MOUNTAIN RANCH, - - 197 
 
 XX. A GLEAM OF SUNLIGHT, 207 
 
 XXI. JOHN PARSONS GIVES ERASTUS A HINT, - 216 
 
 XXII. THE LOVERS' MEETING, - 227 
 
 XXIII. THE COTTAGE AT THE SLOUGH, - 245 
 
 XXIV. THE THREATENING WHIRLWIND, - 255 
 
 XXV. OVER THE RANGE, - ... 272 
 
 XXVI. TAKE ME UP, PAPA, 290 
 
 XXVII. CONSPIRATORS, - - - - - 302 
 XXVIII. CONSUMMATE VILLAINY, .... 315
 
 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 ;EAR MARTHA, 
 I can't come 
 home after you 
 and the babies 
 like I hoped to 
 do, cause I'm broke 
 again ; leastwise I hev 
 ben since I wrote 
 you last, and I aint 
 squarely got onto my 
 feet yet, but I'm goin 
 ter send you some 
 money by next steam- 
 er ; all I can scrape 
 together, and I want 
 you and the babies to 
 pack up and come out. 
 I know it looks hard fer you to have to make the trip 
 across the plains alone with the children, but I dont see no 
 way to help it unless we are never to see one another again,
 
 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEAJ 
 
 and I can't stand that, nor I dont believe you want to 
 either. And there's Rastus ; he must be gettin most a man 
 now, and will help you a heap, and I'll do the square thing 
 by the boy when he gets out here. 
 
 Jo Bronson's wife's cousin, Sy Peters, has writ Jo that 
 he is goin to come out this summer with a company, and 
 you can come with him I reckon. 
 
 You remember Sy. He's a livin up near Perkinsville now, 
 bein driv off of his land long of the rest of us. Sy will be 
 glad to do you a good turn I know, for when we was both 
 broke up back in New England by goin security at the 
 bank, he and I swopped sympathy with one another, and 
 now that the railroad corporation has gobbled us both, Sy 
 will be willin to do some more swopin of the same kind I 
 reckon, an swopin sympathy means swopin help with poor 
 folks. 
 
 I spose you'll want to know what kind of a place I am 
 askin you to come to, and I tell you honest, Marty, when 
 I say that natur done a way up job when she made this 
 country; just about the best she is capable of doin, I reckon, 
 an all I'm askin for now is to have you an the babies, an 
 I'll be satisfied for all the hard work and losses we've had, 
 and they've driv us from sea to sea amost, a gobblin up 
 one home after another after we had made em by hard 
 work. 
 
 Seems to me thet ther must be somethin wrong with the 
 law, fer the poor dont stan no chance with the rich, an the 
 more law the less the fellows that works gits. 
 
 When I wrote you afore, I was rakin in the dust pretty 
 smart, me an my pard, but some fellows from New York 
 came up there and proposed to form a jint stock company, 
 and offered to put in a lot of machinery for histin out the 
 ore, agin our claim; an bein as we was anxious to get at
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 9 
 
 the dust as fast as possible, so as we could go back to the 
 States fer our families, we agreed to it, but some way it 
 didn't pan out like it ort to a done. The other fellows 
 elected theirselves directors, an pinted one of theirselves 
 bookkeeper, and pard and me never exactly understood how 
 it was, but there was assessments instead of divies, and fin- 
 ally we wus both froze out of the mine entirely after payin 
 back to the company all the dust we had taken out afore we 
 was such fools as to go in with em. 
 
 After that I knocked around in the diggins for a spell, 
 an then hearin of this Suscol Ranch I struck out for it, 
 and here I am ; an I tell you, wife, shes just the most glori- 
 ous bit of country on this side of the big range which nobody 
 doesn't come back from when they hev crost it, and I 
 hev tuck up 160 acres of land, and will hev a cabin up an a 
 good bit of the sile broke afore you git here, and we'll be 
 comfortable in our old age yit, in spite of everything. 
 
 This here's the finest valley in the State and would all 
 have been took up long ago only some rich fellows pretended 
 to have a kind of a Spanish claim on to it, and folks were 
 afraid to settle here, most of em, for fear of bein driv off 
 like we have been, but finally some feller took the case up to 
 court and it was decided in favor of the squatters; that is, 
 them as was on the land makin of themselves homes; and 
 now everybody is a-rushin in and pre-emptin quarter sec- 
 tions, and you needn't be afraid of bein lonesome, for we'll 
 have neighbors on every side in less than a year. 
 
 Well, this is an awful long letter, but you see I wanted 
 to tell you all about everything, and I hope you wont feel 
 too bad because I cant come for you. You know Id like 
 to if I could, but I cant and I promise you shant ever have 
 to move agin. They cant drive us much further any way, 
 unless they make us take ship fer it; an they cant do that,
 
 10 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 fer the courts hes decided that no body hes any claim on to 
 this here ranch, ceptin the fellows that pre-empt it. 
 
 I think Sy Peters will be down to see you within a week 
 from the time you get this, for I wrote him to go at once so 
 as to give you all the time possible for gettin ready. 
 
 Hopin this will find you and the babies as well as it 
 
 leaves me, I remain 
 
 Your lovin husband, 
 
 JOHN PARSONS. 
 
 The above letter was read by Martha Parsons, first 
 silently, and then aloud to her two little girls, eight and ten 
 years of age, as they stood in front of their mother and listened 
 with breathless attention and wide open eyes as if seeing 
 wonderful things, half glorious, half frightful, but altogether 
 strange and unexplainable. 
 
 These were the babies that John Parsons had left six 
 years before, when a corporation jepresenting a railroad laid 
 claim to a large tract of land upon which he and hundreds of 
 others had settled, having bought and paid for it, and hold- 
 ing, as they supposed, incontestible titles thereto.* 
 
 When it first became known to them that a corporation 
 
 * The following is an extract from a letter in the possession of the author, bearing 
 date of Sept. a6th, 1883, written him by Q. A. Wooster, Esq., of Mapleton, Iowa, 
 Secretary of the Settlers Defense Association. 
 
 * * " I am thankful for the kind interest which you and others are taking in our 
 behalf. The history of our wrongs is too long to permit me, with my limited time, to 
 write out in full at present. The lands are claimed by the Cedar Rapids & Missouri 
 Railroad Company, under act of Congress of June zd, 1864. The first suits were 
 commenced in the January, 1877, term of District Court of Monona County, Iowa, 
 against eighty settlers who held patents at the time. James F. Wilson, now United 
 States Senator, was the leading attorney. One hundred and twenty-eight suits were 
 afterwards commenced against those who were holding under the homestead act who 
 had not obtained patents, although many of them had proved up and in some cases 
 the patents were in the local land office and were returned to Washington, where they 
 were canceled."
 
 THE LETTER WAS READ BY MARTHA PARSONS, FIRST SILENTLY, AND 
 THEN ALOUD TO HER TWO LITTLE GIRLS.
 
 12 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 would contest with them the right to their homes and farms, a 
 portion of the settlers threatened vengeance and declared 
 they would give up their own only with their lives, but John 
 loved peace better than contention, and knew by experience 
 the difficulty of fighting bodies that have no souls within 
 them, and he had said to his wife: 
 
 " It is no use, Marty. The Philistines are upon us agin, 
 and we have got to git. It's hard, I know; harder fer you 
 ner for me, for you was brought up sort o' tender like and 
 ust to better things, an' you've worked hard and gone with- 
 out much, and now when we was just gettin' a start agin' 
 after losin' what your father giv us an* all we had added 
 to it, on the spot where you was born, it's mighty tough, but 
 we'll ha"ve to stand it. 
 
 " They can't put us off the place for a time any way, for 
 some of the fellers are goin' to fight em' with the law, though 
 'tain't no use, for they'll take everything they want in the 
 end; and they want it all. But while they are a doin' it I'll 
 try an' win enough to make another home for you and the 
 babies. I'll go to California, Marty, and make a fortune, 
 while you stay on the place with the youngsters, and by the 
 time they git ready to turn you out of this, never fear but 
 I'll come back with enough to take you to another home an' 
 a better one. May be it is for the best after all. May be 
 I'll git rich enough to go back east and buy the old place 
 where you was born." 
 
 And so John Parsons had got together what money he 
 could by the sale of their few head of cattle and sheep, leav- 
 ing the family with one cow to supply them with milk, had 
 kissed the babies as they lay asleep in their cradle, had 
 kissed the wife who for long years to come should only know 
 such sleep as comes to those worn with ceaseless labor and 
 study of how to make the income meet the expenses which
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . _I3 
 
 must be met, and had crossed the plains and mountains that 
 lay between his home and the Pacific ocean, hoping to 
 gather enough gold to repay them for all their past labor and 
 sufferings. 
 
 As John had anticipated, some of the homesteaders had 
 contested with the railroad company the right to the land for 
 which they held deeds from the United States government, 
 but only to find by decision of the last court of resort that 
 individuals have no rights which corporations are bound to 
 respect, and in the end to be handed over to the mercies of 
 those whose tenderest mercy is a cunning which led them to 
 move slowly on their prey, exhausting the resources and 
 hopes of the settlers by slow degrees, and letting their first 
 fierce anger burn itself out or give place to hopes born of 
 tales of a yet better country to be found in some distant 
 State or territory where they would be free to again build 
 themselves homes. 
 
 While in most cases the delay in evicting the settlers was 
 but robbing them of so many more years of their labor, in 
 the case' of John Parsons' little family it was, however little 
 intended, a blessing; for from the land already cleared Mrs. 
 Parsons had been able to make a living for herself and chil- 
 dren, aided only by Erastus, an orphan boy whom out of their 
 native goodness of heart John and Martha had taken to their 
 hearthstone and their affections ten years before. He was 
 now a robust lad of fifteen, tanned by the sun, toughened by 
 work, and with a sturdy air of independence, born, in part, 
 of the heavy responsibility which he had been taught rested 
 upon him as " the only man about the place," in part of na- 
 ture itself and showing itself in his eyes, and through the 
 childish words and actions which had once led John Par- 
 sons to remark to his wife that "the little cub weren't 
 exactly lackin' in willingness to claim what was his'n."
 
 14 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 When Mrs. Parsons had finished reading aloud the letter 
 from her husband, the little girls stood with hands crossed 
 upon their long gingham aprons silently gazing at their 
 mother, who as silently arose, laid the letter upon the rude 
 mantel over the stone fireplace, and took up her household 
 work where she had left it when a neighbor, in passing, 
 had brought her the letter. 
 
 Her mind was too much occupied with thoughts to which 
 the letter had given birth for her to be fully conscious of 
 what she did, but force of habit, born of the cruel necessity 
 which compels nine out of every ten of the wives of laboring 
 men, and especially of farmers the world over, to be con- 
 stantly "on the go," always busy, always at work for others, 
 held her to her usual round of duties, even while her mind 
 was busy discussing this and that plan for the most rapid 
 and profitable disposition of their little remaining accumu- 
 lations, devising this and that scheme for adding to the com- 
 fort of the family upon the long and lonesome journey which 
 she saw rise up before them. 
 
 Then, too, her thoughts turned backward over the past; 
 to the scenes of her girlhood; to the time when she wedded 
 the man she loved and whom she was now to join after long 
 years of separation. 
 
 She remembered how proud she had been when he first 
 told her of his love and asked her to be his wife, and how 
 hopeful they had been, and how certain of their future hap- 
 piness when they began life together. 
 
 And then came sadder remembrances the loss of their 
 home through trying to help a neighbor; the death of their 
 first baby that was buried in the little church yard beside her 
 own father and mother, long since gone to their reward of 
 the other little one, that had come to them - only a few 
 months after they landed in the spot from which they were
 
 "WHY, RAS, IF YOU AIN'T A CUTTIN* UP RAILS !' 
 '5
 
 1 6 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 now being driven, whose tiny grave, she remembered with a 
 pang keen as the thrust of a dagger, must be left without 
 any to care for it, without a permanent enclosure even, per- 
 .haps to be forgotten, obliterated, trodden upon. But these 
 thoughts only served to recall her to herself, for with the poor, 
 to think of the dead is always to recall thought to the living, 
 the living whose necessities lay claim to every waking 
 thought, to every effort of the hands and feet. 
 
 Her thoughts recalled from the past to the present, from 
 the dead to the living, without ceasing her work or even 
 turning around, but intending to address the little girls who 
 yet stood silent beneath the weight of their childish thoughts 
 of the wonderful, perhaps dangerous, journey to their father 
 which they understood was to be taken, Mrs. Parsons asked: 
 
 " Where's Erastus? " 
 
 Her voice broke the spell which was upon the children, 
 and snatching their sun-bonnets from the bed upon which 
 they had thrown them when they followed the neighbor in 
 with the letter, they whipped out of the house and darted 
 around the corner in the direction from which came the 
 sound of the boy's ax. 
 
 Across the pasture lot they sped, catching their sun-bon- 
 nets from off their heads as they ran and carrying them in 
 their hands, until out of breath and within talking distance 
 of the object of their search, the oldest girl broke out with: 
 
 "Oh! Ras! what d* spose ? Ma's got a letter from pa, 
 and he ain't comin' home, 'cause he's been froze out again, 
 but he's going to send money home for us to go to Califor- 
 nia on, and Mr. Peters is a coming down right away to see 
 if we can be ready to start next week, and 
 
 "Why, Ras, if you ain't a cuttin' up rails!" 
 
 "Wall," replied the boy, his look changing from that of 
 a very interested listener to one of set determination, "wall,
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . 17 
 
 s'posen I am? Didn't your mother say she wished she had 
 some dry wood to wash with to-morrer ? and ain't these rails 
 dry ? Guess they are, fur your father split 'em and laid 'em 
 up himself 'fore he went to California. Shud think they 
 ought to get dry in six years if they are ever goin' to." 
 
 " But they're rails," protested both the girls at once, 
 their inborn idea of the wrong involved in the destruction of 
 property causing them to forget everything else for the mo- 
 ment. " They're rails, and if you cut 'em up for wood they 
 will be spoilt, and besides the cattle will get into the field." 
 
 " 'Spose they do, who cares ? 'Tain't our field. They 
 stole it. Wish the cattle would get in." 
 
 "Bet they don't get many rails with the place," he added, 
 bringing his ax down with all his strength and finishing the 
 destruction of the one he was at work on. 
 
 Then he shouldered his ax and the three returned to the 
 house, the girls still swinging their sun-bonnets in their 
 hands and talking excitedly of the coming journey to their 
 father, and the new home which they were to have in the 
 beautiful country to which they were going, while the boy 
 strode on by their side saying less, but with a look and step 
 that proved him not less excited than his companions. 
 
 The week that intervened before the coming of Sy Peters, 
 like the weeks that immediately followed it, was occupied 
 by the family in devising means for making the most of their 
 possessions. 
 
 They already had a team which Sy thought with good 
 care would stand the trip, but the wagon and harness were 
 not sufficiently strong to risk venturing upon so long a jour- 
 ney, and Mrs. Parsons bent every energy to the task of de- 
 vising how best to turn this and that and the other article 
 into things it was absolutely necessary that they should have 
 before they could start.
 
 1 8 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 A new wagon was bought at the wagon shop in the vil- 
 lage, payment being made in the old one backed by two 
 cows. The pigs were sold to get canvas for the wagon 
 cover, the chickens to pay for shoeing the horses all round 
 with new shoes ; a better harness was obtained from a 
 neighbor in exchange for the old one and such cheap im- 
 plements for tilling the soil as they had been using on the 
 farm ; calico and muslin for garments for the girls, and cot- 
 ton jeans for a change for the boy were procured somehow, 
 the few cooking utensils and the beds needed upon the road 
 were packed into the wagon with their remaining provisions; 
 the feeding box was hung to the tail board, a bucket for 
 watering the horses and a pail of grease for greasing the 
 spindles were hung under the hind axle, and one morning in 
 May when the sun came up over the tree tops and looked 
 down into the little clearing, he saw only a deserted and 
 abandoned log house, from whose chimney no wreath of 
 smoke curled upward, upon whose hearthstone no fire was 
 blazing. 
 
 The family had again joined the great caravan of toilers 
 that, like the red men, have been driven from sea to sea 
 across a continent, hunting for homes and a resting-place 
 from those who covet all and will be content with nothing 
 less.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . Ip 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 Who shall say that he can truly draw the picture of a six 
 months' journey by wagon train across the continent ? 
 
 Who has done it ? 
 
 Who has depicted, or can depict the feeling of loneliness 
 and isolation that takes possession of the hearts of a little 
 band of pilgrims when having, by such tedious methods of 
 travel, placed a thousand miles between themselves and 
 their old home and home associations, they realize that they 
 are yet a thousand miles from the new home which they 
 hope to make in an untried country ? 
 
 Who can recount the many incidents over which men 
 laugh or women weep, that go to make up the weeks and 
 months of such a journey? 
 
 Who can convey to the minds of those who have never 
 seen them, a true picture of the prairies 
 
 That seem bounded, 
 
 Like the waters of the ocean, 
 
 Only by the purple sunset 
 
 And the gray clouds that in patches 
 
 Fleck the sky that hangs low over? 
 
 Who shall picture the camp at night upon the open plains 
 in the rocky pass by the river side within some deep 
 defile ? Who tell again the stories that were told ; who sing 
 the songs that were sung by the camp-fire, or along the weary 
 dusty road ?
 
 20 
 
 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Did those who blazed the way across the continent mark 
 the route for those who followed them? 
 
 Those who came after counted the graves by the road- 
 side. 
 
 Did these give names to the streams which they crossed ? 
 
 Others, camping by the streams, drinking of their waters, 
 talked of the memories which those names called to mind. 
 
 They who never made the journey can not describe it ; 
 those who have, alone could understand it if written ; and 
 they they do not need to read it. 
 
 What others saw who crossed the plains in 1850 by wagon 
 train, they saw who made up the little company in which 
 was Martha Parsons, with her two girls and Erastus Hem- 
 mi ngway. 
 
 What others suffered of loneliness and hardship, they 
 suffered. They enjoyed all that others enjoyed ofr the 
 beauties of nature and of the companionship of those with 
 whom they traveled toward the land of golden promise. 
 
 They forded the same streams, traveled for days and 
 weeks and months across the same prairies, along the same
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . 21 
 
 beaten track, that at times seemed endless ; they climbed the 
 same mountains ; they greeted with glad cries and thankful 
 hearts the first evidence of the near approach of their 
 journey's end, just as the members of every other company 
 that preceded them had done; just as those of every other 
 company that came after did do; and when they had broken 
 camp for the last time; had made their last day's journey; 
 they received at its end the same hearty, unspeakable wel- 
 come from a waiting husband and father that every other 
 husband and father, long separated and anxious for the 
 presence of his loved ones, gave them when their journey 
 was ended and he folded them once more within his 
 arms. 
 
 When John Parsons first clasped his wife and little ones 
 to his breast after their long separation, it was in front of the 
 shanty which he had promised should be ready for them 
 upon the quarter section of land which he had pre-empted. 
 
 The shanty, however, was not what would be called such 
 in the heavy timbered country of the middle west, but was of 
 redwood boards nailed to a frame of studding, and the 
 cracks battened with narrow strips. The boards being six- 
 teen feet in length and nailed on perpendicularly gave 
 abundant room above for several beds, and for the storage 
 of any article of clothing or of household use not in daily 
 demand. 
 
 Instead of being lathed and plastered the walls, both 
 above and below, were covered with heavy muslin neatly and 
 securely tacked on. The ceiling was covered with muslin, 
 but the floors were of boards, and a partition of boards, 
 unplaned but neatly fitted together, divided the lower room 
 into two apartments. It was neither a very grand nor a 
 very costly house, but its builder and owner had taken no 
 small pleasure in thinking that it was better, and more 

 
 22 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 stylish looking, than the log house his family were leaving 
 "back in the States." 
 
 He had whitewashed the outside carefully, and had built 
 a porch over the front door, doing everything himself and 
 lingering long over the nicer jobs ; thinking of how it would 
 add to the pleasure and comfort of the wife who was under- 
 going the tedious journey across the plains in order to be 
 again with him. 
 
 " She's worthy of a palace," he had said to himself over 
 and over again, "an" I'm just goin' to make this here shanty 
 as comfortable an' as convenient as contrivin' an' fixin' kin do 
 it." And every evening, after cooking and eating his sup- 
 per of bacon and beans, with the addition of " slap jacks," 
 if he was not too tired or too indifferent to cook them, he 
 would light his pipe and sit in the front door for hours, 
 looking out along the track by which he knew they must 
 come, and wonder where they were at that hour ; if they 
 were traveling late, as they sometimes must in search of wa- 
 ter for their teams ; if all were well ; if they were in danger 
 from the Indians ; if the horses with which they started were 
 holding out well, and a thousand other similar things, but 
 always refusing to believe that evil could come to them now, 
 when their long separation seemed so near an end, and 
 firmly clinging to the thought that they would soon all be 
 together again in the home which he was preparing, and 
 which he meant never to leave until called over the range to 
 the better one. 
 
 " I wonder now if the little girls will know me," he had 
 said aloud, as he sat thinking one evening. 
 
 " They were such little bits o' tots when, I left, that I 
 really 'spect they have forgotten how their own father looks. 
 There's Martha, now, she'd recognize me in a minute, I'll 
 venture ; six years is a long time, though, and I've had some
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 23 
 
 awful hard knocks durin' that time, wonder now if I am 
 lookin' much the wus for wear," and he arose a little hur- 
 
 riedly and went and hunted up the bit of looking-glass among 
 his kit of things, and took a long look at himself with a queer 
 kind of feeling about the heart, that some way reminded 
 him of the days when he first knew himself to be in love 
 with Martha Simmonds, and was a little uncertain as to how 
 his advances would be received.' 
 
 Every day after that until they came, he had looked in 
 the glass at least once, and often more than once, and had
 
 24 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 kept his hair and beard combed and his clothes looking as 
 well as possible, considering the fact that, to a very great 
 extent, he was forced to rely on strings to do the duty usually 
 performed by buttons. 
 
 He had at first thought of meeting his family at Sacra- 
 mento, and had gone down there in the middle of August 
 with the 'intention of remaining until they arrived ; but as 
 the time of their coming was quite uncertain, and might not 
 be for several weeks yet, and as some things remained to be 
 done to the cottage, he had made arrangements with Jo 
 Bronson, who also had friends in the expected company, to 
 see that they were properly directed after being supplied 
 with anything of which they might be in special need, or to 
 at once notify him in case anything had gone wrong with 
 them, and had returned to the ranch to await them there. 
 
 For several days after his return, he busied himself 
 about the cottage ; putting in a shelf here ; driving up a 
 nail there ; going out to look at the garden, the ground for 
 which he had broken early in the spring almost the first 
 day after he had laid his claim and written his family to 
 come and which now, thanks to his careful tending and 
 the natural adaptability of the soil and climate, could easily 
 furnish vegetables and melons enough for a larger family 
 than the one whose wants they were intended to supply ; 
 and remembering that but a few days or weeks intervened 
 before their coming ; that even now they might be in sight 
 from the bluffs at the bend of the creek whose windings the 
 road followed, that they might be coming around the bend 
 at any moment, is it any wonder that he slept but lightly, or 
 that he often raised himself from his blanket, fancying 
 he heard a familiar voice calling to him through the dark- 
 ness ? 
 
 Only two days before their arrival a neighboring squatter
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 25 
 
 called at the ranch, and the two men spoke together earn- 
 estly and excitedly, and when the neighbor left, John Par- 
 sons hastily mounted his pony and dashed away across the 
 country at break-neck speed, casting anxious glances back 
 over the track in the direction from which he expected any 
 day, any hour, to see the canvas-covered wagon in whose 
 occupants every hope of his life centered. 
 
 After an absence of a few hours he returned at the same 
 reckless pace, but only to dash off again, after making certain 
 that no one had been at the cottage during his absence. 
 
 He did not follow any beaten track, but struck across 
 country, in a direction nearly opposite to that previously 
 taken, riding at the long swinging gallop for which the native 
 horses of Southern California and Mexico are noted. A 
 ride of two miles brought him to the cottage of another 
 settler, whose wife, surrounded by a flock of little ones, 
 appeared at the door in response to a " halloo " from the 
 rider. To her, Parsons spoke a few words and with a 
 gesture towards her husband who could be seen at work in 
 a distant field and another in a direction slightly different 
 from that from which he himself had come, put spurs to his 
 animal and was off again. 
 
 In much the same manner he called at a half dozen 
 shanties, speaking a moment hurriedly with their inmates 
 and always leaving them excited and anxious, his visits in 
 every case being followed by the hasty calling of the hus- 
 band or father from his work, and his hurried mounting and 
 riding away in the direction pointed out by Parsons. 
 
 Just at nightfall he came home, fastened instead of 
 turning loose his pony, and cut for him a bundle of the 
 wild oats that grow so lustily upon the rich soil of the Suscol 
 ranch and surrounding valley.
 
 26 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Then he began to pace back and forth before the porch 
 of the cottage. 
 
 He did not cook or eat any supper ; he even forgot to 
 light his pipe. 
 
 All through that night he paced up and down or stood 
 looking into the sky or out toward the distant hills. 
 
 When morning came he cooked and tried to eat his 
 breakfast, but could only swallow with an effort, and when 
 it was over he set the unwashed dishes aside and went and 
 looked in the bit of glass again. 
 
 What he saw there seemed to hurt him in some way. 
 The face that was reflected back appeared older and not so 
 good-looking as he had fancied it did when he last saw it ; 
 he felt that even Martha would hardly know him ; and with 
 the thought, tears, the first he had shed since he kissed wife 
 and babies good-bye away back in the States, almost seven 
 years ago, forced themselves from his closed lids, and he laid 
 down the piece of looking-glass as if ashamed even that the 
 image in it should look upon his emotion. 
 
 After awhile he lay down upon his blanket, telling him- 
 self that he must not look too care-worn at their coming, but 
 his eyes refused to remain closed. Instead, they persisted 
 in wandering about the rooms ; lingering for a moment upon 
 each object in which their possessor had felt a special inter- 
 est as something that would lighten the labors of his wife ; 
 some little thing she would not be likely to expect and which 
 would give her the more pleasure because of it. 
 
 All the day through he was up and down, out and in the 
 cottage, unable or unwilling to work, forgetting his dinner 
 until long past the usual hour, and then permitting it to 
 burn to a crisp when he did undertake it ; but just as the 
 sun was going down he saw coming around the curve in the 
 road a covered wagon ; and although wagons such wagons
 
 ALL THROUGH THAT NIGHT HE PACED UP AND DOWN OR STOOD 
 LOOKING INTO THE SKY OR OUT TOWARD THE DISTANT HILLS. 
 
 27
 
 28 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 were far from uncommon sights to him, and although it 
 might well be strangers that approached, yet something told 
 him that it was his own loved ones, and with the thought 
 every look of weariness and care went out of his face, and 
 a moment later the woman in a gingham dress and sun-bon- 
 net had no difficulty in recognizing her husband in the man 
 whose eager arms were thrown about her even before she 
 could descend from the wagon.
 
 OR, JUST A c AMPIN'. 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE REUNION. 
 
 It was true that the girls who were " such little bits of 
 tots" when he left them did not know how their father 
 looked, and would not have known it was he but for the 
 greeting he gave to their mother and themselves. 
 
 It is doubtful, on the other hand, if John Parsons would 
 have known his girls had he met them unexpectedly. 
 
 They had grown wonderfully, he thought; so much more 
 than he had imagined. 
 
 True, he had counted the years that had flown and had 
 said: "Jennie is almost eleven now, and Lucy past nine," 
 but what did the passage of years signify when memory had 
 all the time pictured them babies, just as he had seen them 
 before the years had come and gone. 
 
 Erastus, he thought, had not changed so much. He 
 was quite a lad when he saw him last, and he was not fully a 
 man now. He had grown, of course, and had a manly air 
 and look, but he was not yet sixteen, and then we always 
 expect boys to grow. He had seen boys on the streets of 
 Sacramento and elsewhere of all ages and sizes, and their 
 forms and faces had somehow mingled with the form and 
 face of Erastus and had helped to obliterate the picture of 
 the lad as he saw him last and form a new and much truer 
 one of the real Erastus whose hand he now took and held 
 with a grasp that warmed the boy's heart toward him 
 anew. 
 
 " Leave the horses stand a bit and come into the house
 
 30 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 with mother and the girls," he said; "we will care for them 
 by-and-by." 
 
 But the boy replied that he would rather care for them 
 at once and could easily do it without help as he was ac- 
 customed to do. They were tired, he said, with the long 
 drive, as they had all been determined to get through that 
 night, and had broken camp early and driven hard. 
 
 " Yes, John," interrupted Mrs. Parsons, " it has been a 
 long drive and a hard one; not to-day only, but so many 
 days; and I'm so glad to think that we are not going to 
 have to hitch up again in the morning; but that our journey 
 is ended at last, and that we are all together again." 
 
 " I didn't expect so nice a home," she added, coming close 
 to him and looking up in his. face while her eyes filled 
 with tears. "And oh! I am so glad we have a home of our 
 own once more. I am sure we shall be very, very happy 
 here." And she felt hurt when her husband roughly turned 
 away and began helping Erastus with the animals. 
 
 She supposed, however, that he was ashamed to let her 
 see how deepfy he was affected at the thought of their all 
 being together, and of the happiness which was sure to be 
 theirs, now that it was so; and she felt very certain that this 
 was the case when a minute later he came back, and put- 
 ting his arm around her shoulders, said: 
 
 " Come Martha, come babies, let's go in and see the new 
 home from the inside," and led her up the steps to the porch, 
 and then into the main room of the cottage. 
 
 " How'll she do?" he said, motioning with his hand about 
 the room. 
 
 His wife noticed that his voice was broken as he said it, 
 but she did not wonder at it, for her own voice was not to 
 be found at all just then; and sinking into a chair she put
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 31 
 
 both hands to her face and gave way to the tears that would 
 come in spite of her. 
 
 When she could control her voice she said: 
 
 "Please don't think me foolish, John; I'm so happy I 
 just can't help crying. Indeed, I didn't expect anything half 
 so comfortable and nice, and now that we are all together 
 again in a home of our own, I can think of nothing else 
 worth asking for." 
 
 Going behind her chair her husband took her hands in his 
 own, and, stooping down, kissed her twice, and was silent for 
 a time. Then he said huskily: 
 
 " I'm glad we are together again, Martha, and I don't 
 mean we shall ever be parted any more. Now you rest 
 while I go and help 'Rastus with the horses," and turning 
 he left the house. 
 
 When he came back in company with the boy he found 
 his wife busy preparing their supper, the material for which 
 Jennie and Lucy were bringing from the wagon. 
 
 John brought out his own stores to add to those of the 
 travelers, and soon the family were seated about the table, at 
 the first meal eaten together for so many years; indeed, the 
 first meal that the girls could remember to have ever eaten 
 in company with their father. 
 
 Then followed questions and answers regarding the 
 friends in the States, and the journey which was just ended 
 so happily, and at a late hour the family retired to rest upon 
 such beds as could be improvised from the stock in the 
 wagon added to that which the husband and father had been 
 able to provide in view of their coming; and soon all were 
 sleeping the blessed sleep that comes from weariness and a 
 feeling of having passed safely through much of danger; 
 all but John Parsons, who, despite his last night of waking,
 
 32 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 slept but little, and arose in the morning with a look that 
 showed his wife at once that there was something upon his 
 mind, a knowledge of which he was striving to keep from the 
 family, and instantly she recalled what had been told her by 
 some friendly squatters near whose cabin they had camped 
 the second night out from Sacramento; of a rumor that 
 some settlers, somewhere further down the valley, were likely 
 to lose their claims through some cause, which those who 
 repeated the tale did not properly understand. 
 
 It had not occurred to her at the time that it was possi- 
 ble it could be John's claim that was in danger. 
 
 It seemed strange now that it did not. But so full was 
 her mind of thoughts of John himself, of their coming 
 ' reunion, and of the future when they should all be together 
 in the new home that there was no room for anything else; 
 and so she had scarcely heard the tale at all, or hearing it 
 had dismissed it at once with a single expression of pity for 
 the poor families who were to lose their all even as she 
 and John had done back in the States through the greed 
 of those who are not content with what is justly theirs. 
 
 But now she understood it. 
 
 It was John's claim that was involved and they had come 
 two thousand miles to find a home and resting place, only 
 to be bidden to move on again ere they had shaken the dust 
 of the long journey from their garments. 
 
 " Is it the title to the place, John?" she asked; " I know 
 there is something terrible on your mind; something you are 
 afraid to tell me. I ought to have seen it last night, but I 
 didn't. I was so tired and so glad, that I couldn't think of 
 anything. Whatever it is, don't be afraid to tell me. I can 
 bear anything, only so that we remain together." And she 
 put her arms around his neck and laid her head upon his 
 bosom.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 33 
 
 Then John Parsons broke down and wept. The children 
 came in and stood wondering and silent. They knew some- 
 thing terrible had happened, or was about to happen, for, 
 young as they were, they knew that men do not weep at 
 the scratch of a briar; and they saw their father weep and 
 saw their mother put up her hand and stroke his beard and face 
 and whisper softly something they could not hear, but which 
 they felt must be words of comfort that were sorely needed. 
 
 It was Erastus that broke the spell at last. He had been 
 the first to rise and had gone out immediately to feed and 
 rub down the horses; and returning had entered just in time 
 to hear Mrs. Parsons speak of the title to the claim. Then 
 he, too, remembered the rumor which they had heard, and 
 knew that it was true, and understood all that it meant to 
 those who had been the only real friends he had ever known, 
 and his young blood grew hot and for a moment he felt that 
 he could kill. the men who were the cause of so much suffer- 
 ing; and then there came a great wave of affection for the 
 friends who had given him all the love he had ever known, 
 and stepping forward, he said in a tone of voice that gave a 
 weight to his words which his years would have denied him: 
 
 " Uncle John, if the land thieves have gobbled this place 
 too, let them have it. There must be land somewhere that 
 they don't claim, and if there is we'll find it, and make a 
 home on it. I'm almost a man now, Uncle John, and I'll 
 help you; so don't give up. It will be all right yet." 
 
 " Yes, John, cheer up. We will find a place to start 
 again, somewhere, and all begin together," said his wife. " I 
 know, dear, how badly you feel. You have built the house 
 for us and have thought so much about welcoming us here 
 that it is harder for you than for us, who only saw it for the 
 first time last night." 
 
 " I never knew it till just the other day," said John, striv- 
 3
 
 34 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 ing to speak in his natural voice; "they told me when I 
 bought the place that it was all straight, and the courts had 
 decided that nobody had a claim on it that would hold but 
 the settler; but it 'pears that the rich fellows that claim it 
 raised a heap of money and bribed Congris to reverse the 
 thing. The other squatters got wind of it and had a meetin' 
 to see about it. That was while I was at Sacramento ar- 
 rangin' with Jo fer your comin', and I never knowd any- 
 thing about it 'til Bill Ritchie, who has the next claim east, 
 came over Thursday mor to tell me that another meetin' 
 was to be held that after*, jn to hear the report of the com- 
 mittee that had been sent to Frisco to find out if it was true 
 or no. And so I helped Bill to notify the neighbors and we 
 held the meetin' at Bill's house, and the committee was thar 
 an' they said we was done for, sure enough; that Congris 
 had decided that the hul Suscol Ranch belonged to a few 
 fellows that never struck a "blow, nor turned a sod, nor put 
 up a shanty; and who never paid nobody fer doin' it, but 
 claimed it because some Spanish king or other once pre- 
 tended to give it to some of his cronies before there was 
 any United States or anything else on this continent but 
 buffaler, an bars an' Injins. 
 
 " I ust to be proud of my country," he continued, " and 
 was fond of sayin' that everybody stood an ekil chance here;, 
 but it ain't so. Nobody don't stand any chance except he 
 is a raskil and a coward into the bargin; stealin 'thout get- 
 tin' in front of the law. There ain't no doubt but that Con- 
 gris was bribed. Our fellows have even learned where and 
 when the money was raised, and some of the Congrismen 
 and Senators who was bought to vote agin us;* but we can't 
 
 * The Suscol Ranch embraces more than 90,000 acres of land lying in the counties of 
 Solano and Napa, in the State of California. 
 
 The claim through which the settlers lost their homes, was said to be a forged 
 Mexican grant. There was no record of it in the archives of the Mexican Government,
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 35 
 
 prove nothing in court, fer everything works agin the poor 
 man, who only wants justice, an' in favor of the rich one that 
 is seekin' to rob him of his earnings; and if it wasn't for the 
 wimin and children that might be left wus off if their hus- 
 bands and fathers wus killed, there would be a fight afore 
 some of us give up our claims." 
 
 This allusion to possible violence frightened Martha Par- 
 
 and it was never entered in Jemino's index to land grants in California. When the 
 land began to be valuable, claimant sold the grant to his son-in-law for $5,000, to be 
 paid when the money could be made out of it. From the shadow thus cast over the 
 title, the matter was carried into the courts. After several years' delay, it is claimed 
 that by the use of $25,000 the court was influenced to give a decision in favor of the 
 bogus grant. The case was appealed to the Supreme Court of the United States, and 
 a determined effort was made to induce Judge Jerry S. Black, who was then Attorney 
 General, to have the appeal dismissed. It is claimed that large amounts of money were 
 sent to Washington to be used in influencing the Attorney General, but without avail. 
 Judge Black reported that he had " examined the papers in the case and found that the 
 title was a base forgery and ought to be utterly rejected." After Lincoln's inaugura- 
 tion, the same influences were brought to bear upon Attorney General Bates, but with 
 like results. The case was retained on the docket and the court finally decided that 
 the pretended title was void, and the lands of the Suscol Ranch were restored to the 
 public domain. The conspirators at once made an effort to have their title established 
 by special act of Congress, but for several years they failed in their efforts. 
 
 Finally, however, by methods that will never be fully known, a bill was forced 
 through both houses of Congress, giving the bogus claimants the exclusive right to 
 enter the land at $1.25 per acre, thus depriving the homesteaders of their rights to 
 their homes at any price. Two hundred citizens were rendered homeless without com- 
 pensation by this infamous act of Congress. 
 
 Several years afterwards, while George VV. Julian, of Indiana, was Chairman of 
 the Committee on Public Lands, he made a strong effort to have Congress undo the 
 wrong, but his efforts were unavailing. The following extract from his speech in the 
 House, delivered July 5, 1866, will show that that body was fully apprised of the 
 nature of the bogus claim, and were without excuse in perpetuating a wrong perpe- 
 trated by a previous Congress. 
 
 Mr. Julian said: 
 
 " Mr. Speaker, I regret very much to occupy the time of the House at this late 
 hour of the session in the discussion of this bill, and nothing could induce me to do so 
 but a sense of duty. I believe, and feel very sure in the opinion without imputing 
 any improper motives to anybody that an effort is being made here to overturn the 
 entire land policy of the United States, respecting the rights of preemptors and 
 homestead claimants upon the public lands. I deem it incumbent upon me, therefore, 
 to discuss with some care the question involved in the amendment submitted by the 
 committee, affecting the title to this well-known ranch in California, and affecting also 
 the proper interpretation of the act of Congress of March 3, 1863. The facts of this
 
 36 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 sons. What if the squatters should resist and John should be 
 killed? The thought almost took away her breath, and she 
 tried in everyway to calm her husband whom she had never 
 before seen in so violent and bitter a mood. 
 
 He did not really meditate resistance, however. Experi- 
 ence and observation had taught him that those who could 
 control both the legislatures and the courts could bring 
 aids to their assistance that made resistance by any force 
 which the squatters could command worse than useless; and 
 after a little while he cooled down and began to talk of 
 what was to be done in the direction of seeking a new home. 
 
 " Some of the fellows are talking of goin' up into the 
 foot-hills, above Sacramento, where they say thar ain't no 
 claim of any kind on the land, and where it is most as easy 
 to grow grapes and peaches an' apricots and sich as it is to 
 raise corn an' hogs back in the States. If they would pay 
 for the work I've done on this place, or even enough to get 
 lumber for another house, we could start agin up there, and 
 do purty well maybe, but they won't. Stealin' is their game, 
 
 case, which it is necessary to understand, are about these : This Suscol Ranch, in the 
 State of California, is a large tract of about ninety thousand acres, alleged to have 
 been granted by the Mexican or Spanish Government to one General Vallejo. The title 
 was for a long time in dispute and litigation, and the case finally found its way onto 
 the docket of the Supreme Court of the United States ; and that court, after a full 
 hearing of the whole case on the points of law and of fact involved, decided that the 
 alleged title of Vallejo was void. It was not pronounced void on technical ground, as 
 gentlemen may perhaps argue on the other side, for Justice Nelson of the Supreme 
 Court declares, in so many words, that' in every view we have been able to take of the 
 case, we are satisfied the grant is one which should not be confirmed.' 
 
 " This decision was given in December, 1861, and so soon as the judgment of the 
 court was certified to the court below in California, which was in March following, this 
 whole claim of 90,000 acres became a part of the unappropriated public lands of th< 
 Government, open from that moment to preemption and purchase as other public lands 
 Accordingly, as soon as that decision was thus certified and made known, scores of per- 
 sons entered upon this Suscol Ranch as preemption settlers, built their cabins, put up 
 fences, cultivated the land, in some instances planted orchards, and asserted the rights 
 generally of preemptors under the laws of the United States."
 
 OR. JUST A CAMPIN . 37 
 
 and havin' paid Congris to declare stealin' legal, I 'spose 
 they'll go for everything in sight." 
 
 Mrs. Parsons professed to be pleased with the idea of 
 raising fruit, which was really the case, for she had already 
 seen evidences since arriving upon the coast of the liberality 
 with which nature dealt with such of her products in this 
 climate, and could she have felt absolutely certain that they 
 could find the right spot and get a claim which would not be 
 wrested from them, she would have felt in no small degree 
 contented with the situation. And now she was ready to 
 encourage any scheme that would help to reconcile her hus- 
 band to the inevitable. 
 
 The result of further conversation between the members 
 of the family was that Mr. Parsons again mounted his pony 
 and rode away in the direction of Ritchie's shanty; and that 
 that evening a dozen squatters, many of them accompanied 
 by their wives, met at the cottage, were introduced to the 
 new comers, and when they departed it had been arranged 
 that John and Bill should make a trip to the locality spoken 
 of and see if it was really suitable for homesteading, while 
 others were to go to San Francisco and ascertain beyond 
 possible question if there was any shadow of a claim hang- 
 ing over it. 
 
 " I don't never mean to settle on another bit of ground 
 that anj'body has ever laid claim to "ceptin God'l-mighty," 
 said one of those present; and all the others echoed the sen- 
 timent. 
 
 The next morning John Parsons took his wife, and then 
 each of his children in his arms and held them close to his 
 heart for a moment, kfssed them and rode away to try to 
 find another resting place. 
 
 As he reached the brow of the hill which was to hide the 
 cottage from his view, he checked his pony and turning,
 
 38 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 looked back, and then away to where he could see other 
 houses dotting the landscape, until a moisture came to his 
 eyes and blurred his sight. 
 
 ''Only just a campin'," he said: "only just a campin' 
 where they thought to live always; that's what they're a- 
 doin'; that's what I've ben a-doin' all my life."
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . 39 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 EVICTION. 
 
 The explorers were gone ten days. Returning just 
 after nightfall on the evening of the tenth day they paused 
 in front of the little grove surrounding Ritchie's shanty to 
 arrange between themselves the route which each should 
 take on the morrow in notifying those interested, of their re- 
 turn and readiness to report. 
 
 The Suscol Ranch is not a prairie, but a succession of 
 low ridges or hills. Occasionally a bit of the rock foundation 
 crops out upon some bluffy point, but generally the ridges 
 are tillable clear to their summits, and produce wonderful 
 crops of wheat, an average of fifty and sixty bushels to the 
 acre being considered a no surprising yield even upon fields 
 of several hundred acres In their natural state they are 
 dotted over with little groves of white and live oak, usually 
 in groups of from a dozen to a hundred trees, and it was in 
 one of these little groves that Ritchie's shanty was situated. 
 
 When the two men had agreed upon their separate course 
 for the morrow, and also upon the place at which the squat- 
 ters were to be asked to meet and decide upon their future 
 action, they separated; Ritchie turning his pony's head 
 toward his shanty, while Parsons loosened the rein upon the 
 neck of his beast already showing signs of uneasiness at be- 
 ing held back when so near home, and started at a brisk 
 pace in the direction in which he knew his family were 
 anxiously awaiting his coming. 
 
 He had gone but a few yards, however, when he
 
 4O DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 heard an exclamation of surprise from Ritchie, who almost 
 instantly rejoined him and crowding his pony close up to 
 that of his companion exclaimed, in a voice shaken with 
 emotion and excitement: 
 
 " My God, Parsons, they've torn down my shanty, and 
 heaven only knows what has become of my wife and child." 
 
 It was true. 
 
 Those to whom the Suscol ranch, comprising thousands 
 of acres of the finest lands, had been given by the pur- 
 chased votes of corrupt congressmen and senators, had 
 decided to resort to eviction in order to obtain immediate 
 possession, and sent a posse of men with orders to destroy 
 a number of dwellings as a warning to all others, and Bill 
 Ritchie's shanty had been among those selected. 
 
 For a moment the two men sat upon their horses like 
 statues, looking at each other through the darkness; and 
 then, with one impulse, they put spurs to their animals and 
 dashed away in the direction of Parsons' house. Neither 
 spoke, but both leaned forward in their saddles, and rode at 
 full speed rode with bated breath, while alternate hope and 
 fear struggled with fierce anger for possession of their 
 bosoms. 
 
 Had they stopped to reason they would have known that 
 there was little probability of bodily injury having been done 
 to the evicted family ;* but who would stop to reason of 
 
 *At the time this work was written, the author was not in possession of all the de- 
 tails of the horrible outrages committed upon the helpless settlers of the Suscol Ranch, 
 and not believing it possible that personal violence could be offered to women by any 
 one in America who even professed to act under the authority of law, made use of the 
 above expression. But how much he misjudged the extent to which the greed for 
 wealth can brutalize men, may be seen from the following extract from a letter re- 
 ceived from one of the victims after the story appeared in serial form. " These large 
 holders, under the Vallejo title, had put up cheap fences around their tracts and gone 
 to work against the preempters in the courts, under the common law of possession. 
 Then commenced ejectment suits, and the Sheriff of Solano County, a purchaser under 
 the bogus title, was swift to execute the mandates of the court against the settlers.
 
 OR JUST A CAMPIN . 41 
 
 the probable amount of injury when he came suddenly upon 
 the ruins of his home and realized that those whom he loved 
 better than all else in the world, a defenseless woman with 
 a babe at the breast, had had the shelter torn from over 
 their heads, and that they were gone, he knew not where or 
 how ? 
 
 "Naturally they would seek shelter with their new neigh- 
 bors, the Parsons, since they were nearer than any other, 
 and the two men would return together; but suppose the 
 Parsons cottage was destroyed also? Supposing all the cot- 
 tages in the neighborhood were destroyed, what then ? 
 
 And John Parsons ? Can the sufferings which he en- 
 dured during that ride be measured or told ? That ride of 
 a quarter of a mile before coming up over the intervening 
 rise they saw lights in the window and a camp-fire burn- 
 ing brightly in front of the cottage ? 
 
 If life were a flame feeding upon the body which it 
 inhabits, then it would be easy to understand how men some- 
 times grow old in a day how the hair may turn white 
 in a night; for one man may live more, suffer more in an 
 hour than comes to others in a lifetime. 
 
 His deputy, armed with a writ of ejectment, went to the house of Curley while he was 
 absent and seized his wife, and amid the screams of the children, beat and threw her 
 out of the house in the most cruel manner, and injured her so seriously that she lay 
 helpless for several months The Sheriff then went with a posse to eject a Mr. Han- 
 son, and he not being at home, and his wife supposing it to be a mob, made resistance, 
 when they seized and handcuffed her and beat her in so shocking a manner that in a 
 few months she died of her injuries. He also went to Cornelius Martin s house with 
 his posse of fifty Tnen made up of land sharks and their hirelings and while Mrs. 
 Martin was sick in bed, they seized and carried her out. Martin begged them to wait 
 until he could carry out his furniture, and he had scarcely time to do so when the 
 house was leveled to the ground. This crew of land sharks had all the officials on 
 their side. Mr. McCullough and another man, in going into their quarter section, had 
 to cross a temporary fence, and they happened to break a couple of rails, and for si/ 
 doing were arrested for malicious trespass, taken before a magistrate and sentenced to 
 sixty days imprisonment, which they served out in jail. Ashbrook was assassinated at 
 night, and Cox was murdered in daylight and Rooney seriously wounded all pre- 
 gmptors."
 
 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 The posse sent to evict the homesteaders had gone 
 directly to John Parsons' cottage from Ritchie's; but they 
 were preceded by Mrs. 
 Ritchie, who, fright- 
 ened by the threats of 
 men to tear the shanty- 
 down over her head if 
 she did not at once 
 leave it, had caught her 
 babe from its cradle 
 and ran directly to 
 the Parsons homestead, 
 where she arrived al- 
 most as much dead as 
 alive, and had imparted 
 the dreadful informa- 
 tion, believing it to be 
 true, that every dwel- 
 ling on the ranch was 
 to be torn down, and 
 had urged Mrs. Par- 
 sons to take the chil- 
 dren and fly with her to 
 some place in the hills 
 where they could hide 
 from those who were 
 bent upon a mission of 
 destruction, and whom 
 her excited imagination 
 had magnified into a 
 small army, ready for any outrage upon the persons as well 
 as the property of those against whom they were sent. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons was scarcely less agitated at the recital of
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . 43 
 
 the terrible news than was she who brought it; and Erastus 
 who had listened without saying a word to the story 
 of the outrage, made no objection to the proposition, 
 but helped to make into a bundle the scanty wardrobe of the 
 family, and in company with the frightened women and chil- 
 dren crossed the creek upon a little foot-bridge made of 
 planks, and placed them all within the shelter of the bluffs 
 on the opposite side, and a little further down, where they 
 would be out of sight of the posse either from the cottage or 
 from any point on the road over which they would pass in 
 continuing their work of destruction. 
 
 This done, in spite of the pleadings of the little girls 
 and Mrs. Ritchie, and the almost commands of "Aunt 
 Martha," as he had always called Mrs. Parsons, he returned 
 to the cottage^ and carefully examined the rifle which he had 
 been allowed to purchase when the journey across the plains 
 began, and also that of " Uncle John," which hung over the 
 door between the two apartments. Then he closed and barri- 
 caded as best he could the doors of the cottage and waited. 
 
 He had not long to wait, for very soon the posse, com- 
 posed of a dozen men, halted in front of the dwelling, and 
 the leader advanced and rapped loudly on the door. 
 
 It is probable that the posse had lingered a little, know- 
 ing the direction in which Mrs. Ritchie had fled with 
 her child, and guessing that the family to whom she would 
 impart the information of the destruction of her own dwel- 
 ling would be frightened thereby into leaving also, and 
 thus enable them to avoid the scene which, in justice, it 
 must be said was no pleasure to them; and evidently they 
 thought that the ruse had succeeded, for the leader of the 
 squad remarked as he halted the men: 
 
 " Guess we shan't have to frighten anybody to death here 
 to get them to leave."
 
 44 
 
 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 He was right. The occupant of the cottage was not 
 frightened, but in another minute the officer was, for he 
 heard the click of a rifle lock and knew that there was not 
 only somebody within, but that that somebody meant busi- 
 
 ness ; and, hastily stepping back off of the porch, he said 
 to the men : " Nobody at home here ; guess we've done 
 enough for one day, anyhow ; let's quit and go home." And 
 in another moment the whole posse was out upon the road 
 and headed in the direction from which they came.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 45 
 
 It is more than possible, it is probable, that the officer 
 did not intend to destroy the house from which this little 
 family had fled, and which Erastus Hemmingway had deter- 
 mined to defend at the risk of his life. 
 
 It was one of the best cottages in the whole ranch and 
 was too valuable to be destroyed if the family could be 
 frightened into leaving without ; hence those nearest it had 
 been destroyed first, with the expectation that it would result 
 in its abandonment, if not immediately, at least within a very 
 short time ; and the purpose of the posse in stopping at all 
 had been to add to the fright of its occupants by threats and 
 by their presence ; instead of which their leader received a 
 fright himself, which induced him to move a little more rap- 
 idly than was his wont, and to keep his person well sheltered 
 behind the wagon in which was deposited the axes and iron 
 bars, by means of which they had carried on their work of 
 destruction at other places. 
 
 When Erastus was satisfied that the men were really 
 gone, he unbarricaded the door and returned to the anxious 
 group behind the bluff. 
 
 At first they could not be persuaded to go back to the 
 house, the little girls crying and begging their mother to 
 " hitch right up and go back to the States," where at least 
 their lives were safe ; but finally venturing far enough out to 
 take a look, they saw approaching a man, whom Mrs. Ritchie 
 recognized as a neighbor, and were reassured. 
 
 The neighbor proved to be another of the evicted squat- 
 ters looking for shelter for his houseless family, and when 
 John Parsons and Bill Ritchie reined up their heated ponies 
 in front of the cottage that night, it was the only one stand- 
 ing within a circle of two miles on every side, and a dozen 
 families with their little stores of household goods were 
 domiciled within, or camping beneath its hospitable shadow.
 
 46 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA: 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ON THE MOVE AGAIN. 
 
 The report made by Parsons and Ritchie of the advan- 
 tages and resources of the country which they had visited 
 was quite as favorable as any one had expected. 
 
 It was a wild country, of course. There was no land for 
 pre-emption suitable for their purposes without going back 
 from Sacramento some distance, and they must expect a 
 hard life for a number of years ; but it was a beautiful 
 country, and would one day be thickly settled. Already a 
 few families had started fruit ranches, and had obtained the 
 most gratifying results. 
 
 Grapes, peaches, pears, apples, apricots, nectarines, 
 pomegranates, and many other fruits were grown of a qual- 
 ity that the men had never seen equalled anywhere " in the 
 States," and that which under the circumstances was of equal 
 importance to these people, was the rapidity with which all 
 fruit-bearing trees and vines began producing. 
 
 Grapes at three years from the cutting, and Beaches at 
 'three years from the pit, would bear no inconsiderable bur- 
 dens of fruit ; while most other varieties were equally rapid 
 in reaching maturity. 
 
 Melons, and indeed all kinds of vines and vegetables, 
 were wonderfully prolific, and Irish potatoes, turnips, car- 
 rots, beets, and other root crops, could be raised in abund- 
 ance, and by the simplest methods of cultivation. 
 
 For the present it was probable that the miners in the 
 vicinity would consume, at large prices, any surplus that the
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 47 
 
 squatters might produce ; and if in time this market should 
 fail, a little work would enable them to transport everything 
 they produced to the river, where it could be shipped direct 
 to Sacramento, or down to the coast. 
 
 Those whose duty it had been to ascertain regarding the 
 title to the land in the locality under consideration, reported 
 it free from taint of any kind. In point of fact the claim of 
 these men to the land upon which they settled in the foot- 
 hills above Sacramento city, was never disputed. 
 
 A motion that they locate upon the lands described was 
 put to a vote and carried unanimously, and preparations for 
 the journey at once began. 
 
 The team which had brought John Parsons' family across 
 the plains was again hitched to the canvas-covered wagon, 
 their little store of goods was packed therein, including as 
 much of the products of the garden as could be added with- 
 out overloading the team, leaving all, even Mrs. Parsons and 
 the children, to walk, and thus they again took up their jour- 
 ney, a dozen families, all told. 
 
 Some in the little company were entirely without money. 
 All, not excepting John Parsons, were nearly so. And Mar- 
 tha knew well that worse hardships than walking for a few 
 days, or even weeks, beside the team, awaited her and her 
 children before they could erect a shelter or procure the 
 wherewithal to provide a comfortable home. 
 
 True, the men might go back to mining. There would 
 be mines in the vicinity of the claims they expected to locate, 
 but these men had lost all faith in their luck with the pick. 
 They had worked at it, more or less, all of them, but none 
 had ever "struck it rich." Besides they were of that class 
 of men who prefer steady gains, even if slow and small, to 
 the excitement of speculation or searching with a pick and
 
 48 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 shovel for a fortune which may possibly come at any 
 moment, but in all probability will never come at all. 
 
 Mining partakes very much of the character of gambling. 
 It constantly holds out the promise of large gains of a for- 
 tune, to be secured in a day, in an hour perhaps. The next 
 deal, the next shovel-full, the next blow with the pick, may 
 disclose a pocket filled with gold, and convert the finder into 
 a Croesus ; and so he works on for days and months and 
 years with but one object, one thought to find that which 
 men have decreed should be of more value than home, or 
 friends or honors ; than the means of sustaining life ; than 
 life itself nay, more ; that failing to procure this one 
 thing, they shall be denied all others. 
 
 But these men were not speculators, not gamblers by 
 nature. They were men who loved best the quiet of home 
 and the peaceful pursuits of agriculture. Farmers and 
 farmers' sons back in the States, a brief experience in 
 mining had satisfied most, and all had tried it until they 
 were satisfied. What they wanted was an opportunity to 
 earn their living and make homes for themselves and fami- 
 lies in obedience to nature's laws and their own inclinations, 
 by the cultivation of the soil, and the gathering of its ripened 
 fruits and grains. 
 
 They were not unused to hardships. What man or 
 woman was, that had been a miner or miner's wife back of 
 '60 in California ? 
 
 And they were not cowards. Tht cowards went out 
 later, when the wilderness had been, in a measure, subdued; 
 when braver men had proven the immense resources of the 
 country; had bridged its torrents; had opened its mines; 
 had driven out the Indians; had laid the foundation for pri- 
 vate fortunes and national wealth it was then the cowards
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN. 49 
 
 came, or were begotten of the spirit of gambling, the greed 
 for sudden and immense wealth which the ceaseless search 
 for gold stimulates if it does not create came and plotted 
 to rob better men of their hard-earned savings. These men, 
 I say, journeying from their ravaged homes upon the Suscol 
 Ranch to the foot-hills to begin again, were not cowards, and 
 they were inured to hardship, and like all other people 
 they were too quick to forget wrongs done them under the 
 cloak of law, and they let their anger die out; refused to 
 peer too closely or too far into the future, which they could 
 not control, and laughed as they journeyed, instead of cry- 
 ing; sang scraps of frontier songs, instead of recounting to 
 each other the story of their sufferings. 
 
 And the women ? Why, bless you, dear reader, women 
 learned long ago, some centuries back, I think it was, to 
 suffer and be still. Not one woman cried out at the hard- 
 ships she was compelled to undergo during that whole 
 journey. 4
 
 '50 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BEGINNING A NEW HOME. 
 
 Arriving at their destination each head of a family se- 
 lected his claim and at once began the work of erecting 
 a shelter. 
 
 John Parsons and Bill Ritchie selected claims near to, 
 though not adjoining each other, for the country here is 
 more broken than on the Suscol Ranch, much of it being 
 unfit for farming or even for fruit growing; and very few 
 quarter sections can be found lying wholly in a valley. 
 
 Generally, if the squatter could get a claim, one-half of 
 which was in the valley, he was well contented to take the 
 remainder upon the broken lands lying upon the bluffs. 
 
 Such a claim was that which John and Martha Parsons, 
 assisted by Erastus, selected. 
 
 "The boy has been faithful," said John to his wife. "I don't 
 know what you and the girls would have done but for him, 
 crossin' the plains, an' I mean to do the square thing by him 
 if ever we do get ahead a bit. Besides, the grit which he 
 showed back at the other place ought to entitle him to hev 
 his advice axed, if only for good manners sake; 'specially if 
 it is anything in which he is interested." 
 
 And thereafter nothing of importance to the family was 
 ever fully decided upon until Erastus had been given an op- 
 portunity to express an opinion of its wisdom or feasibility. 
 
 The valley in which most of our pilgrims had sought homes 
 was scarcely more than a quarter of a mile wide; the stream 
 which watered it keeping nearer to the bluffs upon the right
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN. 51 
 
 side the greater part of the way, but occasionally curving 
 outward, near to or past the center of this level strip of 
 ground between the hills. 
 
 \Vhere the stream made one of its curves, leaving between 
 its channel and the bluff a handsome piece of ground of per- 
 haps twenty-five acres, which was slightly higher than the 
 rest of the valley, and so not likely to be overflowed by the 
 water during the winter freshet, and near to the bluff, which 
 sloped back gradually for some distance, did John Parsons 
 begin the erection of his humble home. 
 
 Material for building was scarce and high. Lumber 
 could have been obtained had the settlers possessed the 
 means of paying for it; but, lacking this, they were obliged 
 to do the best they could with the material furnished by na- 
 ture upon or near the spot. Some dug into the sides of the 
 hills, thus securing the walls for three sides of their dwell- 
 ings, the roof and front being of such bits of lumber as they 
 had brought with them or could purchase; in some instances 
 the rude front being of lumber which had once composed 
 dry-goods boxes and in which the clothing or furniture of 
 the owners had been brought from the States. 
 
 Mr. Parsons and Erastus, in preference to this style of 
 half dug-out, decided to build of logs, but to obtain these 
 they were obliged to go several miles further into the hills 
 and snake down the bodies of small spruce trees. This took 
 much time and hard work, but willing hands made light of 
 it, and three weeks from the day of arrival the family moved 
 into their new house. 
 
 There was but one room, and that not large; and the 
 floor was the earth, smoothed and beaten down. There 
 were two doors, with a window upon either side: the latter 
 taken from the cottage in the Suscol Ranch and brought 
 through in the wagon with the bedding carefully packed
 
 52 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 about them. The furniture consisted of some rough shelves 
 in one corner sufficient to hold a few pieces of crockery in 
 daily use, a table, several chairs and two beds, which, with 
 the stove, so filled the single apartment that there was no 
 room for another bed, even if they had possessed it; and 
 for the time Erastus slept in the covered wagon, for which 
 there was little present use, and later on upon a bunk on the 
 dirt floor of the shanty. 
 
 It was very far from being as comfortable as the cottage 
 back on the Suscol Ranch, and as for elegance or effort at 
 " respectability " it made none whatever; was, in fact, as 
 much below the log house "back in the States," which the 
 family had left, as the Suscol cottage had been above it in 
 that regard, and this thought kept coming to John Parsons, 
 and causing him twinges of pain all the time they were at 
 work on it, but once fairly domiciled beneath his own roof, 
 poor though he was, with his family about him, and with the 
 cheerful voice of his wife ever bidding him take courage, he 
 soon ceased to dwell upon his disappointment; or at least to 
 make mention of it. 
 
 The first thing to be done after the shanty was up and 
 the family safely sheltered, was the securing of provender 
 for the teams; for while domestic animals will live all winter 
 on what they can pick, and in ordinary seasons come through 
 in good condition; yet they cannot do this if required to 
 work, and our friends had sod to break for next season's crop. 
 So they set about gathering the wild grasses which grow 
 with wonderful luxuriance during the rainy months, but turn 
 yellow and brown when the dry season comes on, curing as 
 perfectly where they grow as by the process of hay-making 
 pursued in countries which lack the pure dry atmosphere of 
 the Pacific coast. 
 
 The first rains, however, wash the greater portion of the
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 53 
 
 nourishment out of this dried grass, and although the new 
 shoots spring up at once, it is difficult, for a time, for stock 
 to get at it through the heavy coating of old and worthless 
 growth which falls down over it, and is not very nourishing 
 when obtained. 
 
 A portion of the settlers had a cow each, but those in 
 whom we are most interested were without. Among those 
 who were so fortunate as to possess one, however, was 
 Ritchie ; and as Mr. Parsons and Erastus were enabled to 
 give him needed assistance in the erection of his shanty 
 and the cutting of grass for his team and cow, it was 
 agreed that the milk should be divided between the two fam- 
 ilies for the next year, Jenny and Lucy making regular trips 
 for their share every night and morning. 
 
 The shanty up, and a sufficient amount of grass secured, 
 the settlers next turned their attention to the breaking of the 
 soil, the planting of trees and vines, and, at the proper time, 
 of vegetables. For the first year they expected to live 
 largely upon wild game and the few provisions which they 
 had brought with them. The second year they would get on 
 much better. 
 
 There is no country where the common domestic fowls, 
 ducks, chickens and geese, are so easily raised or repay so 
 well the little attention which they require, as in California; 
 and our friends were in possession of a sufficient number of 
 these to enable them to subsist upon eggs and fowls of their 
 own raising, if need be, by another year ; besides which they 
 would be well supplied with vegetables, so that the prospect 
 was not so very gloomy after all, especially as all were 
 blessed with good health ; and hope, which usually comes 
 with a healthful body busily employed in its own service, 
 gave a coloring as of the sunrise to the future which was 
 opening up before them.
 
 54 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Fruit trees were already being shipped to the coast by 
 way of the isthmus, and although they were costly and 
 our friends poor, they managed to get a few ; enough, at 
 least, to furnish grafts for future use. Of peach pits and 
 apple and pear seeds the careful housewife who presided 
 over John Parsons' shanty had brought a supply from the 
 States. 
 
 Grape-cuttings could be more easily obtained. More 
 than a century before, the Jesuit priests who penetrated up- 
 ward from Mexico, had planted grape-vines brought from 
 Spain, and these, crossed, perhaps, with other varieties 
 brought from the States, and favored by the adaptability of 
 the climate, produced a fruit far excelling anything which the 
 Atlantic States can boast of. 
 
 And so when spring came again and the rain ceased, 
 there was quite the appearance of living in the vicinity of 
 the Parsons' shanty. Some twenty acres of the land had 
 been broken, a garden planted, and many of its products 
 were lifting their heads to the sunlight ; a half-hundred 
 fruit trees and a hundred grape-vines had put forth their 
 leaves, and were ready to drink in the sunshine and grow. 
 And they gre\v. Grew so fast that one could almost fancy 
 he saw them grow and stretch themselves. 
 
 It has been said that the only thing which ever distanced 
 a California grape-vine when once it got down to the busi- 
 ness of growing, is the bean-vine of Jack the Giant Killer, 
 known to our childhood days ; the one that Jack undertook 
 to climb to the top of, but which grew faster than he could 
 climb, and so carrying him with it, finally reached clear up 
 to the giant's castle. 
 
 And such clusters of fruit as hang dependent upon 
 their stems, and grow and ripen in the long sunny days 
 of September and October, when not a cloud mars the blue
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 55 
 
 of the sky for weeks and weeks ; clusters that look like 
 pure globes of clear crystal ; or that turn purple and amber- 
 colored where they hang among the broad, velvety leaves 
 that seem as if conscious of the beauty of the picture which 
 they help to make ; and which turn themselves sideways 
 upon their long stems, now hiding, now disclosing the fruit 
 in their midst. 
 
 The California grapes shipped by refrigerator cars, and 
 exposed for sale at the fruit stands in all our eastern cities, 
 and which attract such universal attention, give but a poor 
 idea of California grapes when plucked and eaten standing 
 beneath the vine in California, or sitting at ease at your 
 own table or that of a friend, with the sea or the mountains 
 in sight through the open window. 
 
 Only the tougher skinned or less luscious of the fruits of 
 all kinds will bear such long shipping. The finer and 
 juicier and more luscious varieties of each must be eaten 
 where they are grown, or be sent to a not distant market. 
 
 California plums are wrapped in tissue paper and sent 
 east boxed up like oranges from Florida or ttte West 
 Indies, and sold " a nickel apiece, or three for a dime," to 
 people who buy them as a curiosity, or a very rare treat. 
 At home in California the children eat them as children eat 
 apples in New England, and the housewife drops them into 
 liquid sugar and takes them out great globes of pearl with 
 centers of amethyst. Or she cuts them in halves, and, 
 removing the pit, lets them dry in the sun, and stores them 
 away in sacks and boxes just as she does figs and grapes ; 
 only that these latter are packed down hard when but little 
 more than half dried, and before the rich juices have crys- 
 talized into sugar ; and which, eaten as freely as bread is 
 eaten, flushes the veins with the rich blood that crimsons the 
 cheeks of children and grown people alike in this land of
 
 5^ DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 fruits and flowers ; this land of mountain ranges and sea- 
 washed shores ; of valleys as rich in the elements of agri- 
 cultural wealth as its hillsides are with precious ores, this 
 land that should bear a people as free as the breeze that 
 floats in upon them laden with healing balm from the salt 
 sea waves to find not freemen, but, .delving in mines and 
 upon leagues and leagues of the richest farming lands upon 
 the continent a million serfs.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN- 57 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "A LAND FLOWING WITH MILK AND HONEY." 
 
 " I say, mother, it wasn't such a bad thing for us after 
 all, that they driv us off of the Suscol Ranch," said John 
 Parsons to his wife one morning, as he came under the 
 rough porqh that had been put up in front of the shanty. 
 
 He had just finished helping Erastus get ready to start 
 to market with the usual load of fruit which they were now 
 selling daily. 
 
 " I'm sure fruit and poultry raisin' is a heap pleasanter 
 than raisin' wheat; and there's more money into it, too. 
 
 " Only think, we've been here less than five years now, 
 and we've got all the fruit growin' that we kin all of us tend 
 to, and the money is just a rollin' in. If the rest of the crop 
 pans out as well as it has so fur, we kin build a new house 
 with a verander all around it next year and have money left 
 to send the girls down to 'Frisco to school." 
 
 "Yes, we are getting along very nicely," replied his wife, 
 " and ought to be thankful I'm sure." 
 
 "As soon as we git a new house built," continued 
 Mr. Parsons, " we must begin to save up money to buy a 
 ranch som'ers nigh about here for 'Rastus, fer I 'spose we 
 can't in reason expect the boy to stay with us always. Human 
 natur' don't change much I reckon; it's the same on the 
 Pacific as it is on the Atlantic coast, and I hain't forgot 
 that I was mighty anxious to get a place of my own 'fore 
 I was as old as 'Rastus is; 'specially after I got acquainted 
 with a certain girl with cheeks the color of them there
 
 58 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 peaches a hangin' out there in the sun, and eyes that 
 sort of made me hot and -cold by turns, a-wonderin' whether 
 they was encouragin' me, or takin' note of the size of my 
 cow-hide boots, whenever they looked my way. 
 
 " Not," he continued, " as I've noticed that 'Rastus seemed 
 particularly took with any of the girls round here leastwise 
 them as lives far around here," he added, looking hard at 
 his wife, as if endeavoring to read her thoughts. 
 
 If Mrs. Parsons understood what her husband was think- 
 ing of, she made no attempt to reply, and after waiting a 
 second or two, he began again : 
 
 " I don't see as 'Rastus appears to take particular to any 
 of the neighboring girls, but whether he does or not; 
 whether he takes a wife from close by or furder off, it's only 
 fair that we help him to a start. He's been true as steel and 
 as kind as if he was our own son, and I'm a reckonin' if he 
 and one of the girls should sometime take a notion to hitch 
 up and work in double harness, there wouldn't be any ob- 
 jections; eh, mother?" 
 
 " The girls are not old enough to get married, John," 
 returned Mrs. Parsons. " Jennie is not sixteen yet and 
 Lucy is two years-younger still. I hope that neither of them 
 will think of such a thing as marriage for a good while. Erastus 
 himself is not quite twenty-one, and although many young 
 men marry as young as that, I do not think that Erastus has 
 any such intentions. Not that he has ever said anything to 
 me; but as you say I have not noticed that he appeared par- 
 tial to any of the neighboring girls, although he is a favorite 
 with all ; and as for Jennie and Lucy, they probably seem to 
 him like sisters; indeed, he seems like a son to me, and who- 
 ever he may choose for a wife when he does marry will get 
 an honorable man for a husband and one who will be kind 
 and loving, I am sure."
 
 OR. JUST A CAMPIN'. 59 
 
 "That's so," replied John, " 'Rastus ain't a fellow that 
 will ever go to knockin' his wife and babies around, if he 
 ever has any. But I 'spose it ain't no use to try to fix things 
 up for the young folks. We'll have to let 'em take their own 
 head, which '11 be just as the heart directs 'em, I reckon. An' 
 I wouldn't want 'em to do no other way, for unless the heart 
 goes with the hand it ain't no use for to try to pull to- 
 gether. Well, now, here's a youngster that ain't bothering his 
 head about the girls any way, nor won't be for some years 
 yet, will you Johnny ? He'll be bossin' the hull ranch, 
 though, if his mother and I don't look out, afore he's big 
 enough to hunt hen's eggs or tie up a grape-vine." 
 
 And reaching down he drew upon his knee and gave a 
 great hug to a sun-tanned, tow-headed boy that had just 
 entered; the child of their old age, born the year the shanty 
 had been put up and the first grape-vines planted. 
 
 " I is bid 'nough to hunt edds now," retorted the little 
 fellow, squirming to release himself from his father's arms. 
 
 " I did found a whole nes'ful out under the roses bush, 
 and you've broke 'em; see." 
 
 And he ran his hand into his pocket and withdrawing it 
 covered with the yolk of the eggs stood holding it up, while 
 the liquid dripped down over his clothes. 
 
 "You shouldn't have put the eggs in your pocket," said 
 his father, laughing at the spectacle which he presented. 
 " You might have known they would have got broken and 
 spoil your new pants." 
 
 "What's 'e use of pantses if 'ou tan't put edds in 'e pottits, 
 I'd lite to know," replied the youngster as he waddled off to 
 his mother to be cleaned up and fitted for some new adven- 
 ture. "Des I tan put edds in my own potits if I 'ants to," 
 he added by way of a clincher, as his father playfully stooped 
 to chuck him with his finger as he passed out to his work.
 
 " WHAT'S 'E USE OF PANTSES IF 'ou TAN'T PUT EDDS IN 'E POTTITS, 
 
 60
 
 OR, JUST A c AMPIN'. 61 
 
 When the season's fruit had all been gathered it was 
 found that the last half of the crop had " panned out all 
 right " as compared with that marketed earlier, and it was 
 decided to send the girls away to school for the winter 
 instead of waiting until spring, when a new house was to be 
 begun, and when their services would be much more needed 
 by their mother. But instead of going to San Francisco 
 they would only go to Sacramento, where there was a 
 very good school under the charge of Professor Cook, and 
 being nearer, they could be the sooner reached in case 
 they should be taken sick. 
 
 Letting the girls go from her side was the hardest 
 thing Martha Parsons had been called upon to do since 
 she let John take her arms from around his neck and start 
 on his long journey twelve years before, when they lived 
 in the log house back in the States ; but like other 
 mothers she loved her children and was unwilling that her 
 girls should grow up without every advantage possible to give 
 them. Their opportunities for attending school had never 
 been very good, and for a time after they had settled in their 
 present home they were without any instruction except such 
 as she could herself find time to give; and it was she, and 
 not their father, who had suggested sending them away to 
 school. 
 
 In fact he had at first opposed it; not because of the ex- 
 pense, but because he thought their mother needed their 
 help, and because he did not like to be separated from 
 them. 
 
 His own education was not so good as that of his wife, 
 and he did not look as far into the future in planning for 
 their welfare; or if so, he did not understand as well as she 
 how completely an uneducated woman, married to a man 
 who follows some kind of manual labor for a living, is cut
 
 62 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 off from all social and intellectual intercourse with her 
 kind, and how barren of all that is beautiful and ennobling 
 her life becomes. 
 
 It is bad enough to be tied to an endless round of house- 
 hold duties, even when the mind can take occasional rest 
 and recreation in the perusal of a book or paper ; when 
 sufficient taste has been developed to induce the taking of 
 some interest in passing events outside of one's own school 
 district ; but when, as is the case with thousands of women, 
 no such taste has been cultivated in girlhood, and the seem- 
 ing duties of wife and motherhood leave no time to acquire 
 or devote to it at a later period, life becomes no more than 
 an animal existence becomes a stagnant pool, across whose 
 waters no fresh breezes blow ; on whose margin no fair 
 flowers bloom ; in whose depths is mirrored no silvery moon, 
 no star of hope ; and the spirit which should be prepared at 
 the death of the body to mount to higher planes of thought 
 and action, finds itself bound by chains forged on earth 
 chains which are not broken by the death of the body, but 
 must still weigh down the soul in its efforts to mount up- 
 ward into a higher and better and holier atmosphere. 
 
 This, Mrs. Parsons not only knew but felt, and she was 
 determined that no sacrifice on her part should be spared, if 
 necessary, that her girls might receive at least sufficient 
 education to enable them to take and retain positions in 
 society with the most intelligent of the men and women with 
 whom they would be likely to come in contact in the humble 
 lives, which she expected and was content that they should 
 lead, as possible wives of the coming men who were to make 
 the valleys and hillsides blossom as a garden, and laugh be- 
 neath their burdens of fruits and grains.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 63 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A COMFORTABLE HOME. 
 
 " Looks sort of showery like," said John Parsons, com- 
 ing into the shanty the day before the girls were to go to 
 Sacramento, and finding them and their mother with eyes 
 which gave evidence of weeping, packing up their ward- 
 robes preparatory to starting. 
 
 " I believe I shall cry myself if you wimin folks don't 
 stop lookin' so sick like about the mouth. You don't want 
 to see an old man like me cry, do you, now ? 
 
 " Come, mother, cheer up. You know the girls '11 be in 
 good hands, that '11 treat 'em well and let us know if any- 
 thing happens 'em. 'Tain't fer very long any way ; only a 
 few months, an' I was gone from you all more than six years, 
 and if I hadn't a left you we wouldn't have had this ranch 
 to-day, which will soon be the finest in the whole country ; 
 worth all the hard work and sufferin' we've gone through. 
 
 " At least," he added, meditatively, " as well worth it as 
 anything that poor folks gits is worth what it costs 'em. 
 
 " And here's Johnny, he's a houseful of himself, ain't 
 you, Johnny ? You won't let mother and me git lonesome, 
 will you ? " 
 
 But the youngster had caught the infection of tears, and 
 his father's forced attempt at being jocular could not remove 
 the feeling of coming loneliness that was casting its shadow 
 before, and he stood still and looked silently at the prepa- 
 rations for the departure of his sisters with an expression on 
 his face half of sadness and half of baby wisdom, as if he
 
 64 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 halted between sorrow for the coming loss of the girls and 
 regret that his parents had no better judgment than to per- 
 mit their going. 
 
 The morrow saw them depart. A few months later, a 
 beautiful day in spring saw them return, improved in mind 
 and appearance from the contact with those whose thoughts 
 and deeds had sought, or were seeking, a different channel 
 than that to which their own had been confined. 
 
 If John Parsons had been proud of his girls before, he 
 was doubly so now ; for he could not fail to see that asso- 
 ciation with people of education had given an added grace 
 to the body as well as to the mind. And, unwittingly per- 
 haps, the young people of the neighborhood showed them a 
 trifle more deference than was usually given to those of their 
 own age and condition in life. This deference was in no 
 sense obsequiousness ; it was but the natural expression of 
 that respect which all, even those least ambitious of excel- 
 lence, feel for others who are known to be striving to make 
 themselves wiser and better. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons was not less pleased than her husband. 
 She also noticed the esteem in which her girls were held by 
 young and old ; and that while they aided as willingly and 
 cheerfully in the household work, or in that pf the vineyard 
 and orchard, as ever they had done, they saw that the per- 
 forming of manual labor alone was not all their duty to 
 themselves or to society, but that the mind and the heart were 
 entitled to consideration as well as the body. 
 
 As for Erastus, he felt a little shy when he welcomed the 
 girls on their return. True, he kissed both Jennie and her 
 sister, but somehow it was not the hearty kind of a smack 
 with which he had bidden them good-bye, and he held Lucy's 
 hand while he kissed her, instead of giving her a hug as he 
 had done the morning they left.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 65 
 
 As for Johnny, he was in ecstacies ; for had not the girls 
 brought him a half-dozen things that he had been wanting 
 and expecting on their return? Besides, he should have 
 some one to help hunt hens' nests and look for ducks' eggs 
 in the water of the creek, where they persisted in laying 
 them if they were not watched and shut up every night. 
 
 A few days after the return of Jennie and Lucy the car- 
 penters came and began work on the new house. All the 
 spring and summer they were busy ; and when they left, 
 there stood in front, and a little above the old shanty, which 
 was henceforth to be used for fruit-packing and drying pur- 
 poses, a two-story frame house with green blinds and a 
 verandah on three sides ; the coolest, most comfortable, 
 most hospitable looking house you would see in a month's 
 travel. 
 
 And no more hospitable family ever lived than that which 
 gathered about the table of John and Martha. Parsons, and 
 partook of the rich fruits and well cooked meats and vegeta- 
 bles with which it was daily spread. 
 
 No straggling miner, weary with travel and wanting rest 
 and food, ever left their gate without at least a silent 
 wish that blessings might descend and rest upon the house- 
 hold. 
 
 To ramble about the broad porch and through the open 
 rooms, or to gather around a cheerful fire in the wide grate in 
 the sitting-room, came both the young and the old of the 
 neighborhood. 
 
 The occasional traveler through the country on business 
 or pleasure heard of the Parsons' ranch ; its splendidly tilled 
 acres ; its luscious fruits and its hospitable owners, miles 
 before he reached it, and traveled an hour later that he 
 might knock at its gates and obtain permission to spend the 
 night beneath its broad roof. 
 5
 
 66 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 The Parsons' cottage was not the only inviting-looking 
 one in the neighborhood, however. Others who came with 
 them had prospered also, and had built themselves houses, 
 which, if not quite so pretentious looking, or so neat in their 
 surroundings, as that of our particular friends, were at least 
 as good as ordinary farm houses in the States. 
 
 Many new neighbors had also settled in the vicinity, some 
 of whom brought little fortunes of two or three thousand 
 dollars, and these had opened ranches and built houses both 
 in the little valley above and in the larger one below, clear 
 down to the river, upon whose banks, a two-hour's ride from 
 our friends' cottage, a town had sprung up, where all needed 
 supplies for the family were obtained, and from which was 
 shipped by steamer the fruit and vegetables and poultry, 
 designed either for the mining towns above or the larger 
 markets of Sacramento and the sea-port. 
 
 School-houses had been built ; churches and Sunday 
 schools organized ; the streams bridged, roads over the foot- 
 hills made passable for wheeled vehicles, and altogether the 
 neighborhood had taken on the airs and responsibilities of a 
 community that wished to be regarded as respectable, law- 
 abiding and conservative. 
 
 When Jennie and Lucy Parsons returned to school again 
 it was to San Francisco instead of Sacramento, and both 
 father and mother went with them to see that they were 
 safely settled. They were not feeling the stings of poverty 
 now, and could afford a little recreation, John had said, and 
 they would attend the agricultural exhibition, display some 
 of their own products, see the city, and mingle a little with 
 the outside world ; all in addition to getting the girls fixed 
 in a good boarding place. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons was not much inclined at first to make the 
 trip. The journey across the plains, she said, was enough to
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 67 
 
 last her her lifetime; besides, if she went, Johnny would 
 have to go, too, as there would be no one but Erastus 
 remaining at home ; but a little persuasion from the other 
 members of the family, and her natural desire to see how 
 the girls were to be fixed, finally decided her to go, and 
 arrangements were made accordingly. 
 
 As there would be no one to cook for Erastus, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Ritchie asked him to make his home with them for the 
 week during which Mr. and Mrs. Parsons were to be absent, 
 but it was finally decided that he should remain at the place 
 and keep " bachelor's hall " rather than leave the house 
 alone. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons and the girls, therefore, baked an extra 
 amount of bread and pies, boiled a quantity of beef to be 
 eaten cold, and on Monday morning Erastus drove them all 
 to the little town and saw them take the steamer for San 
 Francisco. 
 
 " It seems unfair to leave Erastus all alone," said Mrs. 
 Parsons, as they passed up the gang plank to the little 
 steamer. " He ought to have gone instead of me ; there 
 was really no need of my going, and he would have enjoyed 
 spending the week in the city, seeing the sights and attend- 
 ing the fair with the girls, very much." 
 
 " Oh, wall, never mind him this time," returned her hus- 
 band. " He was down and saw the fair all alone last year, 
 and it's your turn now anyway ; beside, he can come down 
 any time almost, when we ain't too busy, and I wanted you 
 to go. It'll do you good to get out a little. You've worked 
 hard all your life, wife ; both of us hes, so fur es that's con- 
 cerned, and now that we've got enough to be comfortable 
 on, why, let's be comfortable ; that's what I say." 
 
 As for Erastus, there was a strange kind of feeling hang- 
 ing over him as he mounted his seat in the spring wagon, in
 
 68 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 which they had all ridden down to the steamer, and turned 
 his horses' heads homeward. He had not expected to be 
 lonesome when they were gone. On the contrary, he had 
 anticipated having a pretty good time of it. Not that he 
 did not love those with whom he had always lived, for he did 
 love them all dearly, and, for aught he knew, equally ; and 
 he expected to miss the girls, who were to be absent so long, 
 very greatly indeed. But just for the week during which 
 they were all to be gone, he should not get lonely he had 
 thought. There was something rather enticing in the feel- 
 ing of absolute personal liberty ; the thought that there was 
 no one, not even the members of his own family, to throw 
 any restraint on his actions or to break in upon his musings 
 for a whole week. Besides, one or two of his particular 
 friends among the young men of the neighborhood had 
 promised to drop in and spend the night once or twice, and 
 the cooking would be but just for a week. He had no 
 doubt but he could do it about as well and as nicely as Aunt 
 Martha or the girls. And why not ? Had he not seen it 
 done every day, and three times a day, ever since he could 
 remember? 
 
 " It was a pity," he had told them when they had 
 attempted to condole with him over the prospect of having 
 to cook his own meals, " it was a pity if twenty-one years of 
 observation couldn't enable a man to cook a decent meal of 
 victuals," and they had said no more about it. 
 
 But now, as he turned his* horses' heads away from the 
 town and towards home, there suddenly came into his mind 
 a picture of the house and its surroundings, and this was 
 followed by the queer kind of a feeling of which I have 
 spoken, and which he did not ever remember to have expe- 
 rienced before. He could see the white cottage with the 
 green blinds all closed as an intimation to any passer-by that
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 69 
 
 the family were absent. His old dog, which had come with 
 him all the weary way across the plains, and had met and 
 welcomed him before he reached the gate on his return 
 from short absences, ever since they settled in the valley, 
 would not do so to-day, for he was with him in the wagon. 
 
 The dog had become too old and stiff to take pleasure 
 in following the wagon, as a general thing, and preferred 
 remaining at home with the family when Erastus drove the 
 fruit wagon to town, but when he saw preparations taking 
 place for the trip to San Francisco, he had pricked up his 
 ears with evident interest, and when the entire family came 
 out to get into the wagon, old Bose was close at their heels, 
 and neither coaxing nor threats could induce him to remain 
 behind when the wagon started. 
 
 Evidently he thought that another journey across the 
 plains was to be undertaken, and though much preferring to 
 lie in the sunshine and keep the chickens out of the front 
 yard, to any more laborious service, he would yet have 
 undergone any torture rather than be separated from the 
 family, and a look of pain and mortified pride came into his 
 honest eyes when told by his master that he must remain 
 and watch the house, and instead of obeying he crept close 
 to their feet and looked piteously up as if begging them not 
 to leave him behind, now that they were going away, never 
 to return. And so they patted him on the head and called 
 him "good fellow " and "brave old dog," and told him he 
 should go if he wanted to. Then his whole demeanor 
 changed. He gave a great bark and showed his teeth in an 
 attempt to laugh, which can not be said to have been an en- 
 tire failure, and endeavored in every possible way to express 
 his thanks and assure them that he was the proudest and 
 bravest dog on the Pacific coast, and ready and able for any 
 service that might be required of him.
 
 70 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Then he started on ahead of the wagon, looking back 
 every few rods to make certain that he was leading in the 
 right direction; but before they were half way to town he 
 had dropped back to the side of the wagon ; then he fell into 
 the rear, and finally, looking back and seeing how nearly the 
 poor old fellow was tired out and how piteously he begged 
 with his great eyes not to be left behind, the wagon had 
 been brought to a stop and Erastus had got out and lifted 
 him in "with the rest of the family," where the girls and Mrs. 
 Parsons had had some difficulty in inducing him not to show 
 his gratitude in too demonstrative a manner. When they 
 descended from the wagon and went on board the steamer 
 he was so fearful of being left that he kept in front of them 
 and under their feet until several members of the family 
 came near falling over him; but when Erastus had said 
 "good-by " to them all and turning to go called to him to 
 follow, he went willingly, evidently satisfied that after all he 
 was mistaken and this was only a holiday excursion. 
 
 And now he sat upon the seat with Erastus in perfect 
 contentment and with a slight air of importance, as if he felt 
 a consciousness of having proven anew his devotion to those 
 he served, and had received a recognition of his value. 
 
 Ordinarily the presence of the dog might have prevented 
 any feeling of loneliness in the man had he been disposed 
 to it; but to-day, although he did feel that the dog was com' 
 pany in a sense, yet his very presence, being unusual, served 
 to remind him that the house to which they were returning 
 was desolate, and somehow things took on an unreal look, 
 and when he turned into the barnyard and saw the chickens 
 and turkeys scratching in the straw or wallowing in the dust, 
 he was not quite certain whether they were chickens and 
 turkeys or just the ghosts of those that were wont to scratch 
 and strut there before all other signs of life had ceased and
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 71 
 
 such an unnatural and oppressive stillness had settled down 
 over the place. 
 
 After taking the gears from the horses and feeding 
 them he started to the house to get his dinner. The thought 
 of cooking his own meal was not quite so pleasant now as he 
 had thought it might be, and he was half inclined to go without 
 it or take a cold snack and wait until night before cooking 
 anything. Then his appetite began to return, and he con- 
 cluded to at least fry a couple of eggs and make a cup of 
 coffee. 
 
 He entered the house by the back way, and stood for a 
 moment looking about him. The fire was out in the kitchen 
 stove; the chairs stood, stiff-backed and unsociable, against 
 the wall; the room had lost its air of cheerfulness, and his 
 footfall had a lonely kind of a sound as he stepped on the 
 bare kitchen floor. 
 
 He threw open the door which opened onto the kitchen 
 porch and let in a flood of sunshine. The old dog had pre- 
 ceded him to the house and taken his accustomed place upon 
 the porch and was resting. When Erastus opened the door, 
 the dog opened one eye sleepily and half raised his head as 
 if to inquire if he was wanted for anything, and then 
 stretched himself to sleep again. Everything seemed asleep 
 or dead, and he cooked and ate his dinner with a feeling 
 as if he was cut off from all human society by a thousand 
 miles of desert. 
 
 When he had eaten his own meal he called Bose in and 
 set down a plate with scraps on it for him to eat. Then, 
 not knowing exactly what to do with the remainder of the 
 food which he had cooked, he set that down for the dog 
 also, and took his hat and went out to work. 
 
 Several times hat afternoon he wondered to himself that 
 he had never before noticed how still it was out there in the
 
 72 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 orchard, and whether it was always so perfectly quiet on the 
 farm anyhow; and if the geese swimming about in the little 
 pond made for them by means of a low dam across the 
 creek, always moved around without making any more stir 
 in the water; or if their occasional " honk " when one rose 
 up in the water and flapped his wings was always pitched 
 on that particular lonesome key. 
 
 As night approached he returned to the house and fed 
 the teams and the pigs and the poultry and then went in and 
 got his own supper. At dinner he had said to himself that 
 he would wash all the dishes after supper, when he should 
 have nothing else to do, but after eating his supper he found 
 that he had no hot water, and decided to defer the job until 
 morning; so he let Bose lick the grease off of them and 
 stacked them up in the sink and went to bed an hour earlier 
 than was his custom, without spending any time poring 
 over his favorite authors, "with nobody to disturb him," as 
 he had fancied himself doing when the idea of leaving him 
 in sole charge of the house for a week had first been 
 broached. 
 
 The next morning he arose, built a fire and put on water 
 to heat and then went out to feed the animals. The old 
 dog welcomed him with a wag of the tail, and even followed 
 him to the gate, but went no further. He had not yet re- 
 covered from his yesterday's unusual exercise, and when 
 Erastus returned from the barn he found him in his accus- 
 tomed place on the porch with his head between his paws, 
 from which he did not raise it, although he thumped on the 
 floor of the porch with his tail as an intimation that he was 
 resting well, but was ready for breakfast whenever it was 
 convenient to his master. 
 
 On entering the kitchen. Erastus found the fire burned 
 
 
 
 out; but he re-built it and cooked and ate breakfast, after
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 73 
 
 which he washed the accumulation of dirty dishes, and got 
 out to work about the middle of the forenoon. He ate a 
 cold lunch for dinner to save time, and for supper, a friend, 
 the son of a neighbor, was present, and they piled the dirty 
 dishes in a sink, where Mrs. Parsons found them, with others, 
 on her return from the trip to San Francisco.
 
 74 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A TRIP TO THE CITY. 
 
 Some difficulty was experienced by Mr. and Mrs. Par- 
 sons in finding a desirable place for their daughters in San 
 Francisco. It had been determined that the girls should do 
 their cooking and care for their rooms themselves, both 
 because it was cheaper and because their parents thought 
 it wiser that they should not forget, but learn still better, 
 how to do that which in all probability they would be required 
 to do all their lives. 
 
 Besides this, their health would be less likely to suffer if 
 they took one study less and devoted a little of their time 
 to household duties, such as they were accustomed to at 
 home. 
 
 After a day spent in looking, a suite of two very nice 
 rooms was found, at a reasonable rent, in a house occupied 
 by one of the tutors in the school which they were to attend; 
 and as the family appeared to be a pleasant one, the rooms 
 were engaged, and arrangements having been made for the 
 girls to take possession, the whole party proceeded to see the 
 city and the displays of agricultural products and mechanical 
 skill at the exposition. 
 
 The first day was largely spent in wandering through the 
 department of fruits and vegetables. It was here that their 
 own products were on exhibition, and they naturally felt 
 more interest in this than in any other. They took no little 
 pride in observing that few, if any, excelled them in the 
 quality of the fruit and vegetables exhibited, although many
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 75 
 
 had displays which embraced a larger variety of products. 
 Next they looked at the poultry, and here Johnny discov- 
 ered some bantam chickens and then some large white 
 ducks, over which he went into ecstacies, and could with 
 difficulty be induced to leave for the purpose of looking at 
 anything else. When they had succeeded in getting him 
 away and the rest of the family were engaged in examining 
 other things, he slipped his hand out of that of his father and 
 started back to have another look. 
 
 He was missed almost directly, of course ; in fact before 
 he had got out of sight in the crowd ; but so eager was he 
 to get another look at the ducks and chickens, and so fast 
 did his short legs stir themselves, that his father was una- 
 ble to overtake him, and only caught him when he paused 
 before the coops which contained what, to him, was the 
 principal things of value in the exposition. 
 
 Having recovered Johnny and impressed upon his mind 
 the danger which he ran of getting lost or being carried off, 
 if he did not keep close to the rest of the family, they spent 
 some further time in looking at the collection of needle- 
 work and flowers, and then returned to their boarding 
 place. 
 
 The next day, after a glance through the agricultural 
 department to ascertain if their own articles were undis- 
 turbed, they went to another part of the building to see the 
 machinery. John Parsons was not a machinist by trade, nor 
 had he any special love for mechanism ; and yet he lingered 
 long and with a kind of fascination over the machinery for 
 mining purposes, and especially over the specimens of 
 hydraulic mining pipe, which were on exhibition. 
 
 " I declare, Marty, he said to his wife, " I believe they 
 could wash down Mount Shasta with that thing ; and if 
 they thought there was gold enough there to pay 'em for
 
 76 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 doin' it, they wouldn't be long in tryin', I'll be bound. I 
 heard yesterday that a company of Englishmen are at work 
 now up in the hills above us some'ers, arranging for hydraulic 
 works." 
 
 " Well," returned Mrs. Parsons, " there isn't any gold 
 in our hills, so they won't be wanting to wash them down, 
 anyway." 
 
 "No," replied her husband, thoughtfully, "there ain't 
 any gold in the hills close about us, as anybody knows on." 
 
 The following day they went again through the fruit 
 and vegetable exhibit, took another look at the fowls, and 
 then Mr. Parsons left them to go alone through the domes- 
 tic department, while he went again to examine the imple- 
 ments for hydraulic mining. 
 
 " Wonder if they will tear down old Shasta," he mut- 
 tered to himself. " Wonder if they won't wash down all the 
 mountains and fill up all the valleys ? " 
 
 Returning to his family, they took another short turn 
 about the building, and then returned to their lodgings. 
 Laying off her things, Mrs. Parsons turned to her husband 
 and said, a little reluctantly, for she did not like to seem the 
 first to weary of sight-seeing : 
 
 " John, if you have seen enough of the exposition, let 
 us go home. If not, I'll stop with the girls in their rooms 
 until you are ready to go." 
 
 . " You are not sick, are you, mother ? " asked John, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " No ; but I am tired, and I want to get back home and 
 rest and see to things. Home is the best place for old folks, 
 after all." 
 
 " Why, mother, we are not old folks yet, by a good deal. 
 I feel 'bout as young and spry as I did 'fore I came to the 
 coast ; but if you are tired and want to go home in the
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 77 
 
 morning, I reckon this here youngster '11 be ready to go; eh, 
 Johnny ? seen enough of the city and want to get back to 
 the ranch ? " inquired the lad's father, drawing him between 
 his knees. 
 
 " I'll go if you'll buy me the big white ducks, and the 
 little banta chickens an* a jack-knife with four blades in it," 
 piped the youngster, who thought he saw a chance to make a 
 point in his mother's evident eagerness to go home. 
 
 " Tell you what I'll do, Johnny," replied his father, 
 gravely, though with a twinkle in his eye, for he enjoyed the 
 boy's "cuteness," as he called it; "tell you what I'll do. 
 I don't believe mother would like you to have the jack-knife, 
 but I'll split the difference and get you the ducks and 
 the chickens. 
 
 Johnny, however, stood out. He wanted the jack-knife, 
 and this looked like the time to strike for it. His father 
 only laughed, and would not promise ; but that night as 
 Johnny was being put to bed in the strange house, the 
 thought of home and the cozy cot where he slept at the 
 foot of his parents' bed in the pleasant room that looked 
 out, not upon dusty streets, but upon the vineyard and the 
 orchard, came to him, and he crept up into his father's 
 arms. 
 
 "Papa," he said, " I've 'eluded to 'cept your offer of the 
 big white ducks and the little banta chickens, an' go home 
 in the mornin' with you and mamma." 
 
 And so it was settled, "settled by a unanimous vote," as 
 his father said, and he kissed his boy good night and went 
 out and bought the ducks and chickens, and arranged to 
 have them put on the steamer in the morning. If the girls 
 had been allowed a voice in determining the going home of 
 their parents the vote might not have been so "unanimous," 
 for they dreaded being left alone in the great city; but know-
 
 78 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 ing they could not detain their parents many days longer 
 anyhow, and that their mother, as she said, was tired and 
 wanted to get home and see to things, they interposed but 
 few objections. So the next morning good-byes were said, 
 with many injunctions on the part of the mother, and with 
 kisses, and hugs, and tears, and promises to write often. 
 
 The girls did not go down to the wharf to see them off, 
 for they feared the getting back to their rooms; and besides 
 it was better to say good-bye where no stranger's eye could 
 see the tears which they knew would come at the parting; 
 and so chose to part at their lodging where they could have 
 a good cry all to themselves just as soon as their parents and 
 Johnny were out of sight. 
 
 Mr. Parsons left them all together at the last moment and 
 went down to say good-bye to the professor in whose house 
 they were, and toward whom he felt kindly, as he was to be 
 in some degree the protector of his daughters during their 
 stay at school. He found him in the sitting-room and shook 
 his hand heartily. 
 
 "Good-bye, professor, good-bye," he said. "Take good 
 care of the girls; mother and I think a heap of 'em. You'll 
 find 'em good girls, too, professor, and smart; take after their 
 mother the girls do; both of 'em. Well, good-bye; let us 
 know if anything goes wrong with 'em anyway, and don't be 
 afraid that their bills won't be paid. I'm good for anything 
 I contract for, I reckon. 
 
 "Come mother. Good-bye girls. Come Johnny, we must 
 hurry or we'll miss the boat," he called from the foot of the 
 stairs, and a moment later they were gone and Jennie and 
 Lucy were alone and having their cry out all by them- 
 selves. 
 
 " I don't know how we are to get home from town when 
 we get there," said John Parsons as they neared the landing
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 79 
 
 that afternoon. " Erastus wasn't to come for us until to- 
 morrow night." 
 
 " Maybe some of the neighbors will be in," returned Mrs. 
 Parsons. " Most likely they will; if not we will manage some 
 way. It appears to me as if I had been gone an age and I 
 must get home to-night if I have to walk. How do you sup- 
 pose Erastus is getting along all alone ?" 
 
 "Oh 'Ras is all right," replied her husband. " Don't you 
 never fear for him. If he ain't capable of takin' care of him- 
 self ther ain't no young feller around these diggins as is. 
 Likely he's a little lonesome, but he's gettin' on well enough, 
 never you fear; and home'll seem all the cheerfuler for our 
 havin' been gone. Thet's a pint I kin speak from experience 
 on, fer I kept bach myself fer better'n six years, while you 
 and the babies was back in the States; and I don't never 
 want to do it agin." 
 
 As our friends had hoped, a neighbor was in town with 
 his team, and gladly offered them a ride out. He could not 
 carry the ducks and chickens, however, and they were left 
 with other purchases for Mr. Parsons or Erastus to return 
 for on the morrow. 
 
 It was nearly dark when, coming over the last rise, they 
 looked down upon their own home, with the orchard and 
 vineyard and the rosebush that clambered over the wide 
 porch, fairly covering it with wreaths of bloom, and gave a 
 sigh of relief at their journey ended. 
 
 Johnny was already asleep in his father's lap when the 
 wagon drew up at the front gate, and Erastus, surprised at 
 their unexpected return, came out to meet them. 
 
 " I am awfully glad you have got back," he said, as they 
 entered the house; "but I had rather you had delayed 
 another day, or at least until morning. I had promised my- 
 self to wash up all the dirty dishes in the house to-night if it
 
 8o 
 
 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 took all night to do it, and now you have come and caught 
 me with it undone and the house in a terrible fix." 
 
 Mrs. Parsons 
 laughed. " Didn't I 
 tell you, John, that I 
 ought to come home 
 and see to things," 
 she said. "A man 
 d o n't know any- 
 thing about keeping 
 house." 
 
 " Bet you can't 
 guess what I've 
 got," broke in John- 
 ny, now fully awak- 
 ened and conscious 
 of where he was. 
 " Three big white 
 ducks and two little 
 banty chickens, 'n 
 I'll bet my banty 
 rooster can whip 
 your big Shanghai! " 
 " Oh, ho ! so you 
 are a sporting man 
 from the city, are 
 you ?" returned 
 Erastus, taking the 
 lad up and hugging 
 him. " Well, you 
 
 iy banty rooster 
 your big Shanghai 
 
 vhip 
 
 wait until you get 
 your chickens home, and if they ain't too awfully fierce 
 looking I'll put up my old bob-tailed Shanghai against your
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 81 
 
 bantam rooster, and if the banta licks, you shall have them 
 both and I'll get you a jack-knife in the bargain, and if the 
 Shanghai whips I'll have the banta and the white ducks! 
 What do you say; will you do it ?" 
 
 This was a poser to Johnny. He had been very certain 
 that his bantam could whip the big, clumsy Shanghai, whose 
 cowardice was proverbial among the members of the family, 
 and who was only kept for the ridiculous appearance which 
 he cut with his long legs and tailless body, for which latter 
 old Bose was generally held accountable, but the ready assur- 
 ance with which Erastus offered to back "old Bob," as they 
 called the Shanghai, against the bantam, aroused a fear of 
 the result; and much as he coveted the jack-knife, he feared 
 to risk losing the bantam and the ducks, and no amount of 
 bantering could induce him to agree to the wager. He had 
 a better scheme in his head. He waited until the chickens 
 were turned loose in the barnyard, and when he had actually 
 seen the Shanghai in full retreat before the vicious attack 
 which the bantam made upon him, he claimed the jack-knife 
 and refused to remember that he had not accepted the offered 
 wager. 
 
 The vacation between the fall and winter terms of school 
 was so short that Jennie and Lucy did not attempt to spend 
 it at home, but remained in San Francisco, and thus were 
 absent fully six months without seeing any member of their 
 family. They wrote every week, however, and often more 
 frequently, and were so well pleased with their school, and 
 the family in whose house they were was so kind, that those 
 at home had no especial anxiety about them. They were 
 kept supplied with money, and occasional boxes of home- 
 baked pies and cakes, or a jar of fresh sweet butter was sent 
 them by steamer, and every few days Erastus or Mrs. Par- 
 sons wrote them, thus keeping them fully advised as to all 
 6
 
 82 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 that was going on upon the ranch or among the young people 
 in the neighborhood. 
 
 Their father did not write he had never been much ac- 
 customed to write letters until he left the States and went to 
 the mines ; and here his opportunities for sending letters had 
 been so few as to prevent frequent exercise of what little 
 talent he possessed in that direction, so that now he felt no 
 inclination to apply his stiffened fingers to the use of the 
 pen, but was content to hear read the letters received weekly, 
 and with sending messages of love in those of Erastus and 
 his wife; but as the time approached for the return of the 
 girls for the long vacation he was eager for their coming, and 
 was at the landing waiting for them more than an hour be- 
 fore the steamer was due; and when she came, hurried on 
 board the instant the gang-plank was lowered. 
 
 " How'd do, Jennie ; how'd do, Lucy; glad you're back 
 again. Give your old father a hug;" and he gathered them 
 in his arms and put his bearded face down to theirs for a 
 kiss, and then turned away and drew the back of his hand 
 across his eyes and led them on shore and helped them into 
 the spring wagon. 
 
 " Mother'll be monstrous glad to see you," he said, as 
 they drove homeward; " and so'll Erastus and Johnny. An' 
 the young folks in the neighborhood are arrangin' for a pic- 
 nic an' a dance in the woods for one day next week, a pur- 
 pose so you can all see each other agin. 
 
 " 'Spect the young fellows are mighty anxious to have 
 you back in the neighborhood, bein' there ain't hardly girls 
 enough to go round anyway. I was just a-tellin' mother 
 only yesterday that if you girls hacm't got your heads set on 
 goin' to school another year, I'd a heap ruther you stayed to 
 home and helped her to make the house cheery like, but if 
 you want to go back I ain't a-goin' to 'bject. I reckon 'Ras-
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 83 
 
 tus will be gittin' married 'fore long. An' maybe he'll bring 
 his wife home; I'm sure there's room enough in the cottage 
 fer all of us, even ef we were all to home, and I s'pose we 
 can't always keep you girls. Even ef you was to leave 
 school for good, some of the young fellows would be coaxin' 
 you away from us." 
 
 " Oh, no, pa; I am sure neither Lucy nor I have any 
 thoughts of getting married, have we, Lucy ?" laughed her 
 sister. 
 
 " You don't mean to say 'Ras is in love with any of the 
 girls though, do you ?" she continued. " I wonder who it 
 can be. Funny, isn't it; but I never thought that he could 
 ever get married, had you, Lucy ?" 
 
 Lucy said she had never thought of it, though of course 
 Erastus would marry some time, she supposed; nearly every- 
 body did. 
 
 Then she tried to talk of something else, but Jennie in- 
 sisted on knowing who it was that Erastus was courting. 
 
 " Oh I don't know as anybody in particular," her father 
 replied, " only he's ridin' around with the neighbors' girls 
 some, and it's natural he should marry afore many years. 
 He is a man now, and he knows we are a savin' money to 
 buy him a ranch with after a spell." 
 
 " It will be mighty lonesome," he added, " if he should 
 marry and leave mother and me; 'specially if you girls 
 should go too." 
 
 The girls both protested that they never meant to marry; 
 had not thought of such a thing. 
 
 " You must not talk so, pa," said Lucy, " because we are 
 never going to leave you; but just as soon as we get through 
 school will come home and stay always with you and 
 mother.'' 
 
 Jennie noticed that her sister's voice had a little suspicion
 
 84 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 of tears in it when she said this, and that she turned her head 
 and looked the other way when she spoke, but forgot it im- 
 mediately in wondering if it were true that 'Ras really had 
 any one picked out to marry, and if so, whom ? She 
 thought over all the girls in the neighborhood, and finally 
 decided that it was Mary Jones. Mary, she knew, had al- 
 ways liked Erastus. She liked Mary herself, and the two 
 had been together a great deal, and if Erastus was going to 
 marry anybody she hoped it would be Mary. 
 
 " There's Johnny coming to meet us," said John, Sen., 
 as they came over the hill and struck the little stretch of 
 level ground in front of the cottage. 
 
 " You bet he's got a good eye for seein' things. 'Spect 
 he's been watchin' for us for an hour. He thinks a heap of 
 his dad, don't you, Johnny ? " he said, as he pulled up the 
 ponies, and reaching down, lifted the youngster into the 
 wagon "where they could get at him," as the girls said; 
 and straightway they began to hug and kiss him, keeping it 
 up until he squirmed away from them, and getting in be- 
 tween his father's knees, insisted on being allowed to drive. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons was at the gate waiting to welcome her 
 girls back with a smile and a kiss. The old dog frisked 
 about and barked as if he were still a puppy, fairly knocking 
 Johnny down and upsetting one of the traveling baskets 
 which had been set out preparatory to driving the wagon to 
 the barn. Johnny would have cried, ordinarily, at such 
 rough usage, but now it would have appeared out of place 
 amidst the general rejoicing, and so instead of getting angry or 
 crying, he laughed and tried to mount and ride old Bose as he 
 followed the girls and their mother into the house. Erastus 
 was at work in the fields when the party arrived, but seeing 
 the wagon drive up, he came in immediately. He was, as 
 Mr. Parsons had said, a man now, nearly six feet tall and
 
 HE LAUGHED AND TRIED TO MOUNT AND RIDE OLD BOSE AS HE FOL- 
 LOWED THE GIRLS AND THEIR MOTHER INTO THE HOUSE. 
 85
 
 86 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 with a manly air that had just a shade of embarrassment in 
 it as he kissed the girls in turn and asked after their health. 
 
 Lucy was a little shy of his caress, and turned her cheek 
 instead of putting up her lips to receive the salute; but 
 Jennie greeted him with the old time smack and even re- 
 peated it twice before she released him. Then she broke 
 out with : 
 
 " Oh ! 'Ras, father says you're thinking of getting 
 married. I don't believe it, though. Say, is it so ? Are 
 you going to marry Mary Jones ? 'Cause I know Mary al- 
 ways liked you, though she would never own it. Say, 'Ras, 
 is it really true ? " 
 
 Poor 'Ras ! The blood rushed into his cheeks, and gave 
 them a tinge of red beneath the brown tan, and he glanced at 
 Lucy, and moved away toward the porch, and then he looked 
 a little foolish and finally vexed; and then the idea ap- 
 peared to strike him as being ludicrous somehow, and he 
 laughed. 
 
 " You know better than that, Jen," he said; "I never 
 cared for Mary Jones, or any other of the girls; and, be- 
 sides, Mary is going to be married to Joe Bronson, week 
 after next, and we are all invited to the wedding." 
 
 " Oh, 'Ras, is that so ? Why didn't you write us about 
 it ? " said Lucy, suddenly turning and coming back. And 
 then both girls began: 
 
 " Where are they to be married ? " 
 
 "At Mrs. Jones', I suppose." 
 
 "We'll go, of course." 
 
 " Wonder what Mary will be married in ?" 
 
 "Are they going on a wedding tour ? " 
 
 " What day next week is it to be ? " 
 
 " Who is going to marry them ? " 
 
 " Bet I wouldn't have old Mr. Peters marry me; he is
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 87 
 
 the homeliest man I ever saw. Be just like him to forget 
 their names and marry Mary to somebody else." 
 
 " Who's going to stand up with them ? " 
 
 " Will it be at night or in the morning ?" 
 
 " Where are they going to live ? " 
 
 " Has Joe got a ranch of his own ? " 
 
 " Wonder how Joe managed it, anyway ; he used to be 
 awfully bashful." 
 
 And a dozen other questions, without waiting for an an- 
 swer. 
 
 " Come, girls; come Erastus, dinner's all ready, and your 
 father 's coming in from the barn," called Mrs. Parsons from 
 the kitchen. " Come and let's see how it will seem, to all 
 eat together once more." 
 
 As they passed out ahead of him, and all the time as they 
 sat at dinner, Erastus kept thinking how beautiful Lucy had 
 grown. He had never noticed it before, but it seemed to 
 him now that Jennie really looked plain beside her sister.
 
 88 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A SURPRISED ENGLISHMAN. 
 
 "Hi say ! 'Ello, the 'ouse ! 
 
 "Would you be kind enough to haccommodate us with 
 a night's hentertainment ?" 
 
 John Parsons was resting in his arm chair, with Lucy 
 and Johnny near by upon the porch, when his ears were thus 
 saluted. There was something in the tone of voice in which 
 the words were uttered, or in the presence of the speaker as 
 he turned and saw him, which on the instant prompted a 
 thought of denying the request. Perhaps it was that he was 
 1 not in his usual cheerful mood. 
 
 For some time after his return from San Francisco, where 
 he had heard the system of hydraulic mining described, and 
 accidentally learned that arrangements were being made by 
 a company to begin work somewhere in the adjoining county 
 above him, there had been days when he had been gravely 
 silent, if not moody; but as several weeks passed and he 
 heard nothing more regarding it, this feeling had worn off, 
 and he had resumed his usual jovial look and bearing. But only 
 that morning while at the Landing he had learned that the 
 supplies for the mine were being sent up, and that the flume 
 which was to furnish the water was already under way, and 
 at once all his moodiness returned, and all that afternoon he 
 had been silent and thoughtful; not even Johnny, who was 
 his constant companion when about the ranch, being able to 
 draw him into conversation or bring a smile to his face. 
 
 The company which owned the mine, so he had been told,
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 89 
 
 was composed, in part at least, of Englishmen; and although 
 he had no prejudice against the English, and had once in 
 his own mining days worked in partnership with an English- 
 man, and had now no reason to suppose that the owner of 
 the voice which he heard asking for a night's lodging had 
 any connection with the company upon whose mining oper- 
 ations he was meditating so gloomily, yet the two facts, that 
 Englishmen were interested in the enterprise, and that the 
 party addressing him was an Englishman, somehow formed 
 a connection in his mind and tempted him to do what he 
 never yet had done refuse to extend the hospitalities of his 
 house to strangers in need of a night's lodging. 
 
 As quickly as it came however this thought was dismissed, 
 and he advanced to meet and welcome the strangers. 
 
 "I reckon you kin stay, strangers; an' welcome to such 
 as we have. Maybe it isn't as good as ye have seen, but 
 then agin you may see wus if you are goin' fur up into the 
 mountains. Jest ride yer animals 'round the back way and 
 they'll be seed to," and he opened the front gate before 
 which the strangers were sitting upon their horses and led 
 the way to the gate opening into the barn lot. 
 
 " Light down," he said, " an' come in." 
 
 There were three men in the party; the one who had 
 acted as spokesman being, as his speech indicated, an Eng- 
 lishman, and one of the capitalists who were interested in 
 the hydraulic mining operations of which Mr. Parsons had 
 recently heard. He had come out from England to see for 
 himself and his English partners if things were being pro- 
 perly managed, and to get a better knowledge of the actual 
 value of the claims held by the company. 
 
 He had stopped in New York to consult with those who 
 were furnishing the other half of the capital; and the son of 
 one of these capitalists had come on with him, not exactly
 
 90 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 as a representative of any portion of the stockholders there, 
 for they already had one of their number in charge at the 
 mines, but for the purpose of seeing the world and learning 
 something of business. His name was James Annelsey. 
 
 The third member of the little party was Silas Ensign, a 
 workman in the employ of the Hydraulic Mining company, 
 who had been sent down to Sacramento to obtain some bit 
 of machinery needed, or to carry an order for supplies, and 
 who had chanced to meet with and was now guiding his com- 
 panions to the mines. 
 
 " Hi say, but this is a 'orrid dusty country," remarked Mr. 
 Jobbers as he alighted from his saddle. " Hensign, you see 
 to the 'orses, an' then you can come in halso," he added as 
 he and Annelsey turned to follow Mr. Parsons who led the 
 way to the pump, where an opportunity was given them to 
 wash, after which they were requested to enter the sitting- 
 room and make themselves at home while their host returned 
 to assist Ensign in caring for the animals, Erastus not being 
 present at the moment. 
 
 When Mr. Parsons returned with Ensign, and the two 
 were washing at the pump, Erastus joined them, and together 
 the three entered the room to which Mr. Jobbers and Annel- 
 sey had already preceded them. 
 
 "This is Mr. Hemmingway, strangers; a member of my 
 family," said Mr. Parsons, introducing Erastus. 
 
 " 'Ow do you do, Mr. "Emmingway," said Mr. Jobbers, 
 extending a red and rather fleshy hand, speaking deliberately 
 and with a slight accent upon the first and last word of each 
 sentence, "'ow do you do? Hi 'ope Hi see you well." 
 
 Erastus assured him that he was in good health and ex- 
 pressed the hope that their guests were not too greatly wor- 
 ried with the jaunt over the hills.
 
 " HI SAY ! 'ELLO, THE 'OUSE ! "
 
 92 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 With Mr. Annelsey he shook hands cordially as he had 
 done with Ensign when meeting him at the well. 
 
 In a few moments Mr. Parsons, who had left the room 
 after introducing Erastus, returned and invited the party out 
 to supper. 
 
 "This is my wife, and these are my daughters," he said 
 as the gentlemen entered the room where the table was 
 spread. 
 
 "'Ow do you do, ladies? Hi ope Hi see you well." And 
 Mr. Jobbers, who appeared to have one formal phrase for 
 the expression of his pleasure at meeting strangers, bowed 
 low in recognition of the introduction. 
 
 The younger men bowed, also. Ensign once, with a re- 
 spectful glance about the circle, Annelsey to each of the 
 ladies in turn and with a slightly affected air and his right 
 hand upon his heart. He was a little surprised, evidently, 
 as was also Mr. Jobbers, at the degree of ease and general 
 air of refinement that characterized the young ladies, and 
 desired to make a good impression. 
 
 "Hi, say, you 'ave a huncommonly fine place 'ere," re- 
 marked the Englishman, after they were seated at the table, 
 " Hit is wonderful 'ow you Hamericans do things. Great 
 henterprise, that of building a railroad hacross the continent. 
 Hi don't wonder you people hare proud of your country, sir. 
 'Ow long, may I hask, since you hopened this place, 
 sir?" 
 
 " It's eight years last fall since we first camped on this 
 here spot," returned Mr. Parsons, "and mighty rough campin' 
 it was, too. Mother there, 'n' the girls slept in the wagon 
 for nigh onto four weeks, while me and 'Rastus took the 
 ground fer it until the shanty was up and the roof on. We 
 see some purty hard times for the first few years, but, as you 
 say, we hev made a good bit of improvement since then."
 
 93
 
 94 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 " Hi should say so. And you 'ave done it hall yourselves, 
 without capital ?" 
 
 " Yes, without any capital 'ceptin' a pair of Bosses and a 
 wagon, that brung mother and the girls across the plains." 
 
 " Hi declare; hif that don't beat hanything I've seen yet. 
 Hi don't se 'ow you could get ahead without capital to start 
 hon." 
 
 " We had the land to commence with, and we had good 
 health ginerly; an' we had willin' hearts," replied the host; 
 "an" I am of the opinion that that is about all the capital a 
 man an' a woman needs to start on. We've opened two 
 places afore this, besides addin' to the one we begun on, and 
 have been driv' off of 'em all; an' I don't see what anybody 
 needs more than an ekil chance with everybody else. I'm 
 sure that's all the men that work for a livin' are askin'." 
 
 " Hi say. But there is many a man in Hingland that 
 would be glad of the hopportunity to make 'im a 'ome like 
 this. Hi know several good, honest farmers that could raise 
 money enough to make the trip, and when I go back I shall 
 hadvise 'em to come to Hamerica, and to California." 
 
 During the meal the conversation was principally be- 
 tween Mr. Jpbbers and Mr. Parsons, with an occasional 
 word from Mrs. Parsons and Erastus. 
 
 Ensign made no effort to take part in it, but devoted his 
 attention strictly to the business of satisfying his appetite, 
 unless an occasional glance at the young ladies may be con- 
 sidered an interruption. 
 
 Annelsey made several attempts to enter the conversa- 
 tion, addressing his remarks principally in the direction of 
 Lucy, who sat opposite to him, but, although too sensible to 
 be really bashful in the presence of strangers, she was 
 not sufficiently self-confident to engage in a lengthy conver- 
 sation in the presence of so many gentlemen whom she had
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 95 
 
 never before met, and so caused Annelsey to fail in his 
 efforts to be especially entertaining. But after supper was 
 over and the girls had removed the dishes, and in company 
 with their mother joined the gentlemen in the sitting-room, 
 they found it much more easy to talk together. 
 
 Mr. Jobbers had communicated the fact of his having 
 an interest in the hydraulic mining company to their father, 
 who was listening very earnestly and attentively to what he 
 was saying regarding the size of their claim, the length of 
 the flume and the power which they expected to obtain from 
 so great a fall. This gave the young people an opportunity 
 of chatting among themselves in a less formal manner than 
 they could have done were their elders taking part in the 
 conversation. 
 
 Annelsey, having just arrived on the coast, was full of 
 the incidents of the journey, which he had made by rail; 
 and his references thereto naturally called up, on the part of 
 the others remembrances of their own far more tedious 
 journey, and soon they felt quite at ease in each other's com- 
 pany. 
 
 Then, too, Annelsey had spent a week in San Francisco, 
 and hearing that the girls were but just returned from there, 
 found fresh food for conversation in the objects of interest 
 in that city. At first the custom to which he had been bred, 
 of lookiflg upon a workman as an inferior had shown itself 
 in his treatment of Ensign, who was but an employe of the 
 company in which his father was a large stockholder, but 
 the perfect equality with which he was received by the 
 family of intelligent people beneath whose roof they were, 
 together with the fact that Ensign evidently had himself no 
 thought that he was not socially the equal of any, soon 
 forced the young New Yorker to treat him as an equal; and 
 when the time came for retiring, the young people, with a
 
 g6 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 single exception, felt that they had passed a pleasant 
 evening. 
 
 That one exception was Erastus. 
 
 He had noticed that Annelsey appeared especially anx- 
 ious to make an impression upon Lucy ; and without stop- 
 ping to ask himself the reason for it, was yet conscious that 
 his evening had been spoiled thereby. 
 
 " Good-morning, ladies; Hi 'ope I see you well this 
 morning. 
 
 It was Mr. Jobbers who had arisen and descended to the 
 dining-room on the morning following the incidents just 
 related. 
 
 " Quite well, thank you," replied Mrs. Parsons. "I hope 
 you had a good night's rest." 
 
 "Hi never slept better in my life. Riding 'orseback 
 hover the 'ills gives one a happetite for sleep. And I'm 
 sure no one ever 'ad better hopportunities for enjoying it 
 than your 'ospitality furnished us," he added, gallantly. 
 
 Seeing that breakfast was not yet ready, he passed out on- 
 to the porch, and plucking a magnificent rose from the bush 
 that climbed over and shaded the whole side of the house, 
 buried his nose several times in its perfumed leaves, and 
 then carelessly throwing it down as he might have done the 
 rind of an orange from which he had sucked the juice, 
 sauntered slowly off the porch, and putting his thumbs in 
 the armholes of his vest, inflated his lungs with the pure, 
 cool air of the morning; meanwhile looking out across the 
 little valley with an air of entire satisfaction with himself 
 and the world. 
 
 "Good-morning, Mr. Jobbers," said Mr. Parsons, coming 
 around the house from the rear. "Takin' in a supply of 
 California air, I see. Reckon you don't have such pure air 
 in London."
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 97 
 
 " 'Ope, I see you well, sir. No, sir, the hatmosphere in 
 London is 'orridly beastly at times, but most of us manage 
 to take a run into the country for a change and a little shoot- 
 ing, once or twice a year; that is, them that can hafford it. 
 Hof course the laboring folks can't hafford it, and what I 
 wonder is that they don't hall leave Hingland and come to 
 Hamerica, where they could get pure hair and 'omes for 
 their families. This is a great country for folks that 'as to 
 labor, sir ; great country." 
 
 At this point of their conversation they were joined by all 
 three of the young men, who had risen before Mr. Jobbers 
 and gone out to look at the animals and prepare them for 
 the day's journey. Annelsey had at first ordered Ensign to 
 rub down the horses for the party, but had been told in re- 
 ply that he must take care of his own animal if he expected 
 it done. He was the employe of the company and on the 
 company's business, and not the body servant of those whom 
 he guided to the mines, Ensign had told him. He would 
 rub down Mr. Jobbers' horse as a matter of courtesy to an 
 older man, but as for Annelsey, he was able to care for his 
 own animal, and could do it or leave it undone as he chose. 
 Accordingly the New Yorker had given such care to the 
 animal which he rode as served to smooth his coat, and had 
 fed him from the bin of oats which Erastus had shown them, 
 and then had returned to the house. But seeing no oppor- 
 tunity of speaking to either of the young ladies, they being 
 busy with the morning duties, he had remained for a moment 
 in the sitting-room and then gone out to the vineyard, re- 
 turning as he saw the others coming toward the house as if 
 in anticipation of breakfast. 
 
 Each of the young men respectfully bid the elder ones 
 good morning, to which John Parsons replied with a hearty 
 
 "Good morning, boys, good morning." 
 7
 
 98 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Mr. Jobbers "'oped he saw them well." 
 Being summoned to breakfast they entered the house, 
 and gathered about the table. 
 
 Ensign and Annelsey, both of whom were feeling a little 
 out of humor over their recent tilt about the care of the 
 horses, had their good nature fully restored in the presence 
 of the young ladies, who greeted them with smiles and plea- 
 sant "good mornings." 
 
 Had there been no ladies present it is possible that the 
 meal of which they were partaking might have had the same 
 effect. The most delicious coffee; fresh laid eggs with ham; 
 the lightest of bread; the mealiest of potatoes, and such fruit 
 as California alone can produce, went to make up a repast 
 which only required the clear bracing air of the climate to 
 render a feast fit for any occasion and any company. 
 
 Mr. Jobbers was profuse in his compliments. He had dined 
 with the Honorable Mr. So-and-so, and been present at the 
 public banquet of the Lord Mayor of London, but he had 
 never eaten a meal "more satisfying to the happetite" than 
 the one before him; and he ended his remarks on that sub- 
 ject, as he frequently did, with the assertion that on his re- 
 turn to England he should advise all the farmers whom he saw 
 to emigrate at once to California. 
 
 Breakfast over, Ensign went immediately out and brought 
 around his own horse and that of Mr. Jobbers. Annelsey 
 lingered behind, anxious for a few words with Lucy, and 
 hoping that Ensign would bring his animal with the others. 
 But in this he was disappointed, as Ensign led out two only; 
 and but that Erastus, not willing to appear lacking in court- 
 esy to their guests led out the remaining animal, he would 
 have found himself behind at the starting. 
 
 Hitching the horses at the front gate, Ensign returned to 
 the house to thank the family for their hospitality. Annelsey
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 99 
 
 attempted to prevent this by hastening his own departure and 
 that of Mr. Jobbers, but Ensign had too clear a perception 
 of what was due their host to leave without a word of thanks 
 for hospitalities enjoyed, and left his companions who were 
 ignorant of the direction to be taken to await him at the 
 gate while he paid his respects to the family. 
 
 He did not offer to pay, as Mr. Jobbers and Mr. Annelsey 
 had done, for he knew the customs of the people and that 
 pay was neither expected nor desired; but he thanked Mr. 
 and Mrs. Parsons for their kindness and gave expression to 
 a desire to be of service to the family in return should op- 
 portunity offer. 
 
 Then, bidding all good-bye, he rejoined his companions, 
 and together the three resumed their journey.
 
 100 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEAJ 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE PICNIC. 
 * 
 
 The picnic which John Parsons had told the girls was 
 being gotten up for their home coming by the young people 
 of the neighborhood, was held a week later than the events 
 recorded in our last chapter. The place selected for the 
 day's enjoyment was a beautiful grove on the banks of a 
 little lake that lay nestled in the bosom of the hills some 
 seven or eight miles from the Parsons cottage. 
 
 Early in the morning the young people started for the 
 rendezvous. Most were on horseback, for among the hills 
 the ladies, almost as much as the men, were accustomed to 
 the saddle. In the spring wagons, with those who chose this 
 mode of conveyance was placed the cakes and roasted fowls, 
 with bread and butter and fruits, which were to furnish the 
 repast. 
 
 Among those who elected to go on horseback were 
 Jennie and Lucy Parsons and Erastus Hemmingway. 
 
 By a previous understanding a dozen of the young people 
 of both sexes met at the Parsons cottage, from whence they 
 started together. These were joined on the way by others, 
 making a gay and jolly cavalcade that waked the echoes in 
 the foot-hills with their merry laughter and started the quails 
 from their hiding places in the wild oats. Some of the more 
 venturesome ran races across the bits of level ground between 
 the hills. Now and then a couple would drop behind their 
 companions and exchange a look or word of endearment, for 
 it is not to be supposed that in California, more than else-
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . IOI 
 
 where, thirty young people young men and young women 
 could come together, and that among them all there should 
 be none whose hearts had been touched by the boy with the 
 bow and arrows. 
 
 In the main, however, they held their ranks well enough 
 to be able to exchange merry jokes and witty repartee. Now 
 they sang a verse of some song in concert; now bantered 
 each other with accusations of loneliness because of the ab- 
 sence of some lad or maiden who perchance had found 
 another partner for the day, or been detained at home by 
 some untoward circumstance. 
 
 In all this merriment Jennie and Lucy Parsons took full 
 part and share. Usually Jennie was more sedate and quiet 
 than her sister, but to-day was the first time for months that 
 she had been on horseback among the hills, and the pent-up 
 gaiety of her nature found outlet, and she rivaled them all 
 in merry speech and reckless riding. 
 
 Arriving at the grove they found a platform erected for 
 dancing and two musicians ready with their violins. Very 
 soon others who were to be of the party, but who were later 
 in starting or had come a greater distance, began to arrive, 
 and soon a half hundred gaily dressed, light-hearted young 
 people were on the ground. 
 
 Then the violins were tuned up and dancing began. 
 
 When tired of dancing they sat in the shade of the live 
 oaks and laughed and chatted, or wandered away two and 
 two, and spoke low, and looked love, and maybe planned for 
 a future to be spent in each other's society. Or they rowed 
 on the lake, six or eight in one light skiff that had but a 
 single pair of oars, and sunk so low with their weight that 
 when some one among their number moved, it dipped almost 
 to the water's edge, causing screams, half of fright and half 
 of pure joyousness, to issue from lips as red and ripe as red
 
 102 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 raspberries in July, and which were a temptation as hard to 
 be resisted by those young men as are the berries to boys 
 who gaze at them through a crack in the enclosure within 
 which they grow and ripen in the sun. 
 
 And if, sometimes, the temptation was too great to be 
 overcome, and some bold youth took advantage of the help- 
 lessness of a maiden, who feared, or thought that she feared, 
 to struggle, lest she overturn the boat, and preferred being 
 kissed to getting wet, why, what business is it of mine, or of 
 yours, my dear sirs ? There are other lips as red and ripe 
 awaiting to be kissed, and there are other lakes and other 
 boats with single oars, and otheissunny days and starry nights 
 to come. Then why should we linger over this picture of a 
 golden day that is past; of red lips and ripened fruit that 
 were not for us ; that were gathered by others on this 
 beautiful day in spring, away off in the foot-hills of Cali- 
 fornia ? 
 
 When the sun became too fierce in its reflection from the 
 calm .waters of the lake, they gathered themselves in little 
 knots, all near together, and the provisions were brought 
 from the spring wagons, and spread upon clean linen cloths 
 on the ground, and they ate, and drank lightly of their na- 
 tive wines, and laughed and called back and forth, and 
 twittered just as did the birds that had taken shelter from 
 the sun in the leaves above them; and were as happy and as 
 free from care. 
 
 While they were thus engaged there approached two 
 men; strangers they at first appeared to all. Each carried a 
 fishing pole and basket. The younger one was dressed in a 
 very handsome suit, resembling those seen in pictures of 
 English life and supposed to be worn only by very wealthy 
 gentlemen when engaged in hunting or fishing. 
 
 The other was a much older man, dressed in the garb of
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 103 
 
 a citizen of the locality; and might have been either a miner 
 or a farmer; and was, in fact, an employe of the Hydraulic 
 Mining Company, for whom Mr. Annelsey for the young 
 man in the English hunting suit was none other than he 
 had obtained leave of absence that he might accompany 
 himself as guide and game carrier. 
 
 Perhaps young Annelsey had come simply for a day's 
 fishing in the lake. Many a man had gone farther with less 
 sure promise of being rewarded for his labor by the casting 
 of a hook and line. Perhaps he had learned from some 
 casually dropped sentence of Erastus, or one of the girls, 
 during the evening passed in their father's cottage, that a 
 picnic was on the tapis, and the day and the spot where it 
 was to be. Perhaps he had learned from them only the fact 
 that one was to be held on a fixed day, and by inquiry had 
 ascertained where the most pleasant spot for holding such 
 gatherings was, and had taken the risk and now found him- 
 self rewarded by finding those whom he sought. Perhaps 
 but why assign a reason at all for his coming. 
 
 He had leisure. He could come and go as it pleased 
 him, and he had pleased to make a trip to the lake of 
 which he had heard, and to take with him the fishing tackle 
 which he had brought from New York. And he had found 
 on the banks of the lake a company of young people, two 
 or three of whom he had met before; what more natural 
 than that he should join them, and if made welcome, spend 
 the afternoon in their company ? 
 
 He advanced toward the group of which our friends 
 formed a part; greeted the young ladies in a gay manner 
 and shook hands very cordially with Erastus, and was made 
 welcome and bidden to " eat, drink and be merry, for he was 
 a long way from home and would regret it if he ever showed 
 any backwardness in accepting invitations to eat while
 
 104 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 among the foot - hills and breathing the appetite - creating 
 atmosphere of California." 
 
 When the lunch was eaten he was introduced to others 
 and invited to take part in the dance; for in the country 
 there is less formality than in the city, and in new countries 
 less than in old ones; and here every well appearing stranger 
 was treated as a friend and introduced freely to all, and by 
 all a confidence less frequently betrayed than might be ex- 
 pected by those who do not know that hearts not altogether 
 hardened are always prompted to exhibit whatever quality 
 of honor or goodness those whom they respect credit them 
 with. 
 
 It may be, too, that a knowledge that a betrayal of such 
 confidences generally met a punishment as swift as it was 
 severe, had a restraining influence upon those who were by 
 nature bad. 
 
 Be these things as they may, those who are themselves 
 free from guile, ever were, and ever will be slow to suspect 
 evil of others, and consequently ready to receive and treat 
 as friends all who have the outward appearance of re- 
 spectability and goodness. And what company of young 
 ladies ever failed to look with favor, more or less skillfully 
 concealed, upon the entrance into their circle of a young 
 gentleman whose appearance gave promise that he would 
 at least be an agreeable partner for their festivities. And 
 if the gentlemen were at all disposed to be jealous of one 
 whose wealth or knowledge of the world and the ways of 
 polite society, might give him an advantage over them in 
 the eyes of their lady-loves, they still could not act the part 
 of boors and thus themselves prove his superiority over 
 them. 
 
 And so Annelsey's way to mingle freely with all was 
 made easy, and right well he improved it. He danced not
 
 106 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 only with Lucy and Jennie Parsons, but with a dozen others; 
 but he sought Lucy for a partner oftenest, and when they 
 went for another sail upon the lake he was still at her side, 
 and would have been pleased to have rowed with her alone, 
 but he was unaccustomed to the use of the oars, besides 
 which he feared that she might refuse him, and so contented 
 himself with keeping as near to her as possible in a boat in 
 which were a half-dozen others. 
 
 Erastus noticed Annelsey's evident preference for Lucy, 
 and was ill at ease. 
 
 Whether it were true or not, he believed that the New 
 Yorker had learned of the picnic and came purposely to re- 
 new his acquaintance with her ; and although he did not 
 acknowledge to himself that he loved Lucy other than as a 
 sister, he yet did not like this stranger with his stylish clothes, 
 his gold watch and chain, and other evidences of wealth and 
 position, to be crowding in between them; and when he saw, 
 or thought he saw, that Lucy was pleased with the attention 
 shown her by his rival, as he now began to regard him, he 
 became actually jealous, and half wished that the train 
 which had brought Annelsey from the States had plunged 
 down one of the precipices he was so fond of mentioning as 
 among the dangers he had escaped. 
 
 Then realizing the awfulness of the thought, he amended 
 it to wishing Annelsey might fall into the water and wet the 
 plush hunting suit which made him so noticeable among his 
 more plainly dressed fellows. 
 
 "As if we had never seen any grand scenery," he said, 
 mentally, when Annelsey was describing some of the scenes 
 on the line of the road which he had passed over. And 
 then he tried to make himself believe that Annelsey would 
 not have known that the scenery was grand and wonderful 
 if somebody had not pointed it out to him.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 107 
 
 Then again he pictured his rival as shrinking back and 
 covering his eyes lest his head be turned at sight of this 
 magnificent scenery this almost bottomless abyss, upon the 
 edge of which his train wound, by describing which he 
 fancied the New Yorker was seeking to draw attention to 
 himself. He tried, however, not to show that he objected 
 to Annelsey's presence, or attention to Lucy, by avoiding 
 her and paying court to Julia Ennis, the daughter of a 
 neighbor who had lately come among them. 
 
 Neither was Erastus the only one who was inclined to 
 look upon the stranger as an interloper, for Lucy Parsons 
 was a favorite with the young men of the neighborhood. 
 Her fresh young face and lively mien, as well as her kindly 
 nature, attracted to her all with whom she came in contact 
 And to-day, dressed all in white except a bit of color at her 
 throat, with her clear complexion rendered more beautiful by 
 the few months of comparative close confinement at school, 
 showing yet more plainly in contrast with the other girls, 
 whose cheeks and arms were tanned by exposure to the wind 
 and sun and in the labor of the household, and maybe the 
 vineyard, it is no wonder that she attracted universal homage, 
 and that more than one of the little company wished that 
 Annelsey would return to the city whence he came and leave 
 them to contend among themselves for the favor of the most 
 beautiful maiden in all the circle of their acquaintance. 
 
 When the party broke up and the revelers were about to 
 mount their horses for the homeward ride, Erastus noticed 
 Annelsey press close to Lucy and speak to her in a low tone. 
 He also saw Lucy blush, but could only judge from Annel- 
 sey's demeanor that Lucy's reply to his words, whatever 
 they were, had not been unpleasant to him. 
 , When they were mounted and on the point of starting, 
 some one remarked to Mr. Annelsey that if he was intending
 
 Io8 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 to return to the mining camp that night he would have to 
 ride late ; to which he replied that he should camp on the 
 spot where they were and should spend another day, possibly 
 several of them, in fishing and hunting in the vicinity. 
 
 The homeward ride of the merry-makers was made at 
 such paces as suited the fancy of each. A dozen of the 
 young people only, retained each other's company during the 
 entire distance. The others lagged behind, and then dropped 
 off into couples, and so rode homeward over the dusky hills 
 in the twilight a twilight which was first golden and then 
 purple, gradually changing into darkness not so great as to 
 make traveling dangerous or difficult, but dark enough to set 
 the crickets to chirping ; dark enough to hide the blush of a 
 maiden whose lover was tempted to tell again the story first 
 told in the garden of Eden, and retold by every generation 
 since; too dark to enable them to see the night birds that 
 called to each other from the roadside until frightened into 
 taking wing by the near approach of the riders.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 109 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 COURTSHIP. 
 
 The second day after the picnic Mr. Annelsey called at 
 the Parsons cottage, and was met at the door by Lucy and 
 invited into the sitting-room. Her demeanor showed clearly 
 that his coming was not unexpected, but whether it caused 
 her more pleasure than embarrassment would not have been 
 so easy to determine. 
 
 Mr. Annelsey himself had no doubt about it, however. 
 Had she not told him on parting at the lake that he might 
 call, and was she not blushing and embarrassed now ? What 
 better proof could he desire that she was pleased and flat- 
 tered by his attentions ? 
 
 None, he thought, and he was correspondingly elated and 
 became really entertaining in relating his experience in camp- 
 ing at the lake and at the mine an experience which to him 
 possessed all the pleasure of novelty. 
 
 Lucy had intended to tell her mother and Jennie that 
 Mr. Annelsey had asked permission to call on her, but had 
 not found courage to do so, and not knowing at what time 
 to expect his coming, had deferred speaking of it, hoping 
 some opportunity would arise without herself having to 
 introduce the subject. 
 
 But although the family did not know that he had 
 requested permission to call, it is probable that they were not 
 greatly surprised at seeing him. They knew him to be in 
 the neighborhood, and perhaps others besides Erastus sus-
 
 110 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 pected that his appearance at the picnic was not purely acci- 
 dental. 
 
 Although the young man had called especially to see 
 Lucy, Jennie was perhaps more pleased at his coming than 
 her sister, or than any other member of the family. She 
 liked him exactly as she liked other young men who were 
 pleasant company, and hoped he would remain in the vicinity 
 and take part in their occasional pastimes during the sum- 
 mer ; and she had none of Lucy's feelings of being made 
 conspicuous by having been selected as an object of especial 
 attention by him. 
 
 As for their mother, she saw nothing objectionable in the 
 young man. He was gentlemanly, and appeared to her 
 to be as moral as other young men; and what mother was 
 ever offended that a young man of wealth and standing in 
 society saw attractions in her daughter which he did not 
 see in the daughters of others ? 
 
 Mr. Annelsey was given a cordial invitation to remain to 
 tea ; an invitation which he was not slow in accepting, and 
 so met Mr. Parsons and Erastus, both of whom treated 
 him courteously, though the greeting of the younger man 
 was certainly not excessive in its cordiality; and who, as 
 soon as the meal was over, made an excuse to leave the 
 house and did not return until Annelsey had departed. 
 
 On the other hand, Mr. Parsons was pleased that he had 
 called, and showed it. He wanted to see him. He wanted 
 to learn how the work at the mine was getting on and how 
 soon they would probably be ready to turn on the water and 
 begin washing down the hills, and his manner was such as to 
 still further imbue Annelsey with the idea that he was held in 
 high favor and that Lucy and her parents felt honored by 
 his attentions. 
 
 In reply to Mr. Parsons' questions he told him that the
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . Ill 
 
 work on the flume which was to conduct the water to the 
 reservoir was progressing rapidly a portion of it over two 
 miles long having been completed; that the remaining mile 
 would be finished by the time the tunnel and the sluice for* 
 carrying away the debris and saving the gold would be 
 ready, which would probably be in about three months, and 
 that then they would be ready for active operations. 
 
 Not wishing to wear his welcome out, he declined an in- 
 vitation to remain at the cottage over night and returned to 
 his camp by the lake, where his guide awaited him, and on 
 the following day again took possession of the quarters 
 assigned him at the mining camp, which already aspired to 
 be called a town, a number of clapboard shanties and a 
 lodging house with the usual bar-room attachment having 
 been erected. 
 
 It was not long before he was again at the Parsons cot- 
 tage; and soon it came to be expected that he would make 
 one of any company of young people that assembled for a 
 merry-making in the neighborhood. If he did not always 
 escort Lucy he spent a great portion of the time at all these 
 gatherings in her company, and her companions were con- 
 stantly reminding her in a laughing way that she had cap- 
 tured the young New Yorker, whom rumor asserted was heir 
 to a million or two. 
 
 All this was a source of great annoyance to Erastus, and 
 at times caused him to appear less gracious, both towards 
 Mr. Annelsey and others, than was usual with him. With 
 Lucy his mood was changeable, depending a great deal upon 
 the frequency of his rival's visits. 
 
 If a week or more elapsed without a call from Annelsey, 
 Erastus resumed his cheerful appearance and was seldom 
 from home, spending much of his spare time in the house, 
 where he laughed and joked with the girls in the old time way;
 
 112 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 but the appearance of Annelsey was the signal for a return 
 of silence on his part, and unless there was a gathering of 
 the young folks from which his absence might provoke com- 
 ment, he remained as little in the company of the members 
 of the family as possible, making an excuse of a press of 
 work on the ranch, or of an appointment with some of his 
 gentleman friends to spend the evening out. If he did 
 not, on such occasions, visit Julia Ennis at her father's resi- 
 dence, Lucy fancied that he did, and she treated Julia, when 
 they met, with much cordiality and appeared anxious to help 
 on the intimacy which she thought existed between her and 
 Erastus. 
 
 Of Mr. Ensign the family saw nothing. Once or twice 
 some member had inquired of Annelsey regarding him, but 
 that gentleman knew, or appeared to know, little about him. 
 Ensign was still in the employ of the company, he thought; 
 perhaps swinging a pick in the tunnel; or maybe at work on 
 the flume. Having nothing to do with the accounts or 
 directing the labors of the workmen, Mr. Annelsey could, he 
 said, tell nothing further about him. 
 
 Whether Mrs. Parsons was pleased at the frequency of 
 Mr. Annelsey 's visits or not it would have been hard to tell. 
 She treated him courteously, and appeared to throw no ob- 
 stacles in the way of his attention to her daughter. If she 
 noticed the dislike which Erastus evinced at his presence she 
 held her peace and said nothing. 
 
 As for her husband, he looked for his coming with a 
 feverish impatience growing out of the desire he had for 
 news from the mining camp, which now overshadowed every 
 other thought, and caused him to entirely forget that the 
 young man had any purpose in visiting them except to bring 
 the desired information regarding the progress of the work
 
 OR, JTJ3T A CAMPIN . 113 
 
 at Gravel Hill, as the cluster of shanties at the mines had 
 been named. 
 
 So the summer passed, and again the time approached 
 when the girls were to return to school, and preparations 
 were made for their departure. 
 
 "I almost wish we were not going back," said Jennie, as 
 they were packing, " we have had such a pleasant summer. 
 I am sure I never enjoyed myself so much before in all my 
 life, and I awfully hate going back into those dusty fusty 
 little rooms in the city and poring over a lot of books that 
 appear to have been made on purpose to puzzle one's brains 
 without any corresponding benefit to come of it. I'd ever 
 so much rather stay at home and help mother take care of 
 the house and the poultry, and go to a party once in a while. 
 
 " I wonder what Mr. Annelsey will do when we are gone ?" 
 she went on. " Do you know, Luce, I believe he is dead in 
 love with you ? And he is getting further and further in 
 every day he lives. Here twice last week. He couldn't 
 more than have got home from the first visit before he turned 
 right round and came back again. Mrs. Lucy Annelsey, wife 
 of James Annelsey, Esq., millionaire. That sounds well. 
 Believe I'd take him, if I were you, Luce, and then I can 
 spend the winters in New York and catch a millionaire, too, 
 maybe. Did he ever say anything about coming to see you 
 when we get back to San Francisco ? 
 
 i4 Say," she rattled on, without waiting for a reply to her 
 first question, " what do you s'pose makes 'Ras hate him so ? 
 Do you know that if he were not half in love with Julia 
 Ennis I should think him jealous of you ? Why, Lucy, what 
 is the matter ? Didn't Mr. Annelsey ask you to correspond 
 with him, or anything ?" 
 
 "Yes, he he did, and and I wish he hadn't," sobbed
 
 114 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Lucy, putting both hands to her face and burying it in her 
 lap as she sat on the floor in front of her open trunk. 
 
 " I wish I had never seen him," she continued between 
 sobs. " I wish he would go back to New York and never 
 let me see or hear from him again. I never spent so miser- 
 able a summer in my whole life, rfever; and it's all because 
 of him; and I know poor pa is worried to death for fear the 
 mine will wash down upon the ranch and cover us all up, 
 and and and I'm just as miserable as I can be, and it's all 
 his fault. We were just as happy as we could be until he 
 came." 
 
 Jennie was at a loss to understand this outbreak of Lucy's. 
 She had supposed her not indifferent to Mr. Annelsey's 
 attentions; had thought, in fact, that she was more in love 
 with him than she ever had been with any of her other ad- 
 mirers. She had come to this conclusion because Lucy had 
 avoided talking about him when they were alone; and always 
 before, they had made confidants of each other regarding any 
 of the young men who occasionally escorted them to a dance 
 or picnic when at home, or to a lecture or the theatre when 
 in the city. 
 
 No one who knew the sisters or saw them together even 
 for an hour, could doubt their affection for each other; and 
 Jennie, believing that Lucy really loved Mr. Annelsey, had 
 more than once caught herself drawing mental pictures of 
 her as his wife, surrounded with all the luxuries which wealth 
 could purchase; supplementing it with another picture in 
 which she saw herself appearing at one of the grand enter- 
 tainments which Lucy and her husband would give in their 
 palatial New York home, and being introduced to society as 
 "the sister of Mrs. Annelsey, who had come from California 
 to spend the winter." 
 
 It never occurred to her that Lucy could be in love with
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 115 
 
 anybody else, and now she fancied that some slight misun- 
 derstanding had arisen between them, and that Lucy was 
 troubled for fear that Annelsey would not write or would 
 not seek her out when he came to San Francisco. She felt 
 sure he would come to the city soon, for there was nothing 
 to necessitate his staying at the mines, which would not be a 
 very inviting place for a young man of leisure when the 
 rains set in and rendered hunting and fishing impossible for 
 weeks at a time. 
 
 " Never mind," she said, making an effort to comfort her 
 sister. " It will come out all right in the end. The course 
 of true love never did run smooth, you know." 
 
 This thought seemed to comfort Lucy, and something 
 very like a smile played for a moment about her mouth, and 
 among the dimples in her cheeks. 
 
 Jennie did not see the smile, for her sister's face was 
 still buried in her apron; but she noticed that the sobbing 
 ceased and was strengthened in her belief regarding Lucy's 
 feelings for Mr. Annelsey, and wishing to comfort her still 
 further, she continued: 
 
 " Father has been driven off of so many pieces of land that 
 I do not wonder he is afraid something will happen him 
 again, though I don't suppose there is any danger that this 
 place will be overflowed by the debris from the mines. I 
 don't see how it can be when they are twenty miles away. 
 Mr. Annelsey says there isn't. And if it should happen, of 
 course the company would pay the damages, especially if 
 you and James were married." 
 
 Instead of comforting Lucy, this set her crying harder 
 than ever. 
 
 Jennie could not understand her sister's mood, and did 
 not know what to do or say to soothe her; and hearing their 
 mother calling them from the kitchen, she stooped and
 
 n6 
 
 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 kissed Lucy's hair, where she sat, and went down to assist in 
 getting the evening meal, telling their mother that Lucy 
 would be down in a few moments, but saying nothing about 
 having left her in tears. 
 
 When her sister had gone, Lucy gave way to her feel- 
 ings, and cried and sobbed until her whole form shook with 
 the violence of her emotions. 
 
 Her excitement having worn itself out a little, she raised 
 her head and wiped her eyes with her apron. 
 
 . " I believe they are selling me to him," she said, under 
 her breath; "selling me to him because he is rich and can 
 help them in case father gets into difficulty with the mining 
 company; and Erastus is letting them do it." 
 
 And again her face went down upon her lap, and the 
 sobs broke forth afresh.
 
 OR, JUST A c AMPIN' 117 
 
 By and by she lifted her head again, and finally rose and 
 bathed her face and eyes. 
 
 " Poor father," she was saying to herself, " I know what 
 the thought of losing this place must mean to him. He -has 
 been driven off of so many and he is getting old now, both 
 he and mother. If they were to lose this home they would 
 feel as if there was no place left in the world for them to go 
 to, and if I can save them I ought to be willing to do it; 
 and if Erastus marries Julia Ennis, I shall not care what 
 becomes of me anyway." 
 
 Then she began crying once more, but more quietly than 
 before. 
 
 When she went down to supper the family noticed that 
 her eyes were red, but thought nothing of it, as the girls al- 
 ways had crying spells for a day or two previous to leaving 
 home for school. 
 
 Her father came out of his own gloomy mood at sight of 
 his daughter's sorrow, and made several attempts at joking 
 with the object of raising her spirits again, in which he 
 seemed to succeed admirably, for by the time they arose 
 from the table she was even gayer than usual. 
 
 On the morrow, when the parting came, she broke down 
 and cried as if her heart would break; but then Jennie 
 cried a great deal also, as did Mrs. Parsons and Johnny. 
 Even Mr. Parsons felt the tears stealing down his cheeks, 
 and wiped them away with the back of his hand. 
 
 Erastus drove them to the landing and parted with them 
 there. 
 
 The ride had been an unusually silent one, all of them 
 seeming absorbed in thought. He would kiss them both 
 at parting, Erastus had been saying to himself ; maybe the 
 last kiss he should ever give Lucy. Annelsey, he felt cer- 
 tain, would follow her to the city, and perhaps when she
 
 Il8 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 came back she would be engaged to him. She might even 
 be married before she came back, and so save him the pain 
 of being present at her wedding, for he believed she knew 
 of his love for her, and that the knowledge had caused her 
 to feel embarrassed in the presence of his rival and him- 
 self. 
 
 But now she would not object to his kissing her, as he 
 had always done when she was going to leave them for any 
 great length of time, and he would hold her close to his 
 heart for a moment, if never again. But when they reached 
 the landing the boat was on the point of swinging off, and 
 there was no time even to shake hands, but only to hurry on 
 board and wave their good-bys while the gang-plank was 
 being raised and the boat was swinging round into the 
 current. 
 
 Erastus stood upon the shore and watched them until 
 they were lost to sight amidst the hundred other passengers, 
 and then turned away with a feeling at his heart that all of 
 happiness had gone out of his life forever. 
 
 As the girls were leaving the office of the steamer, where 
 they had gone immediately to secure their state-rooms, a 
 gentleman among the passengers raised his hat in salutation. 
 
 " I wonder," he said, " if I can be of any service that 
 will in part repay your family for the kindness shown in 
 keeping three gentlemen over night one time last spring ? " 
 
 " Why, Mr. Ensign. Is it you ? I supposed you had 
 forgotten all about us long ago, since you never came to 
 see us," said Jennie, feeling that anyone whom they had 
 ever met before was a friend where everybody else was 
 strange. " Have you been at the mines all the time ? Mr. 
 Annelsey said he didn't know what had become of you." 
 
 " So Mr. Annelsey has improved his chance introduction 
 to the Parsons family," was Ensign's mental comment.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN' 119 
 
 " Well, I can't say I blame him. Maybe I would have done 
 it myself if I had had the leisure he has had." 
 
 Then aloud: 
 
 " Mr. Annelsey has not felt any especial interest in my 
 whereabouts, I suppose. I have been at Gravel Hill ever 
 since I was at your father's cottage, and if I have not called, 
 it is owing, perhaps, to my not having so much leisure time 
 on my hands as Mr. Annelsey has had. 
 
 "Besides," he added, looking straight at Jennie, "I had 
 no reason to hope that I should be made welcome, if I were 
 to come as a friend instead of a weary traveler craving a 
 night's lodging." 
 
 Jennie could find no words in which to reply to this, and 
 Lucy had not spoken at all, except barely to show that she 
 recognized Mr. Ensign as one whom she had met before. As 
 they were turning away to seek their state-room Ensign inter- 
 posed. 
 
 "At least," he said, " now that we have met by accident, 
 let us become better acquainted. I am going to San Fran- 
 cisco to run an engine in one of the mills there; you, I sup- 
 pose, are returning to school. May I not join you when you 
 come upon deck again ? Perhaps I can be of some service 
 to you upon our arrival at the city." 
 
 "You may help us get our luggage carried up when we 
 get there, if you wi'l," replied Jennie, " and we will be much 
 obliged to you; and we are coming up on deck pretty soon, 
 ain't we Lucy? And you can tell us'all about things at the 
 mine." 
 
 " They appear to be greatly interested in things at the 
 mine," muttered Ensign, as he turned away; "wonder if that 
 fellow Annelsey has really been making love to one of them 
 and which one. I believe I should not like it if it should 
 prove to be Jennie he is courting."
 
 120 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 After arranging their toilets the young ladies came upon 
 deck. Lucy was tempted to remain in their state-room and 
 would have done so only that she fancied that Jennie was 
 willing to get better acquainted with Mr. Ensign. That 
 gentleman was waiting for their appearance and joined them 
 the moment they came up the gangway, and was so jolly and 
 full of the incidents of his life at the mines that even Lucy, 
 half forgetting her troubles, laughed at his witticisms and 
 finally joined in them. 
 
 And so the day which they had thought would be a lonely 
 one was made very pleasant indeed, and when they arrived 
 just before dark at the city docks, Ensign arranged for having 
 their luggage sent up and then walked with them to their 
 rooms, where he bid them good-night after having obtained 
 permission to call at some future time. 
 
 " Isn't he a splendid fellow ?" said Jennie that night when 
 they were talking over the adventures of the day in their own 
 room. 
 
 "I am glad if you like him," replied Lucy. 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Because I think he is in love with you. I saw it in his 
 eyes when he sat watching you on the boat." 
 
 "Nonsense, you little goosey. Most likely he has a 
 sweetheart already." 
 
 But Jennie blushed as she said it, and immediately got 
 up and went waltzing about the room, humming a gay air, 
 every few moments pausing to make some remark which 
 showed that she was thinking of Ensign, and that her 
 thoughts were pleasant ones.
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . 121 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 VISITING THE MINES. 
 
 Mr. Annelsey's visits to their father's cottage ceased with 
 the departure of Jennie and Lucy, and John Parsons was 
 thus left without means of obtaining frequent or reliable in- 
 formation of the progress of work at the mines. 
 
 He was at the landing every day or two with produce for 
 shipment, and always inquired of such as he met if they had 
 any news from Gravel Hill, but received no information of a 
 positive character such as he had been accustomed to obtain 
 from Mr. Annelsey. He had, in fact, questioned that young 
 gentleman so often and so minutely that he felt as if he knew 
 the mines, and all the details of the work of preparation for 
 working them, as perfectly as if he had located them and 
 superintended the labor of the men himself; but now he only 
 heard rumors, those of to-day being contradicted by those 
 of to-morrow. Of late, too, he had frequently been answered 
 impatiently, almost rudely, by those whom he was in the 
 habit of questioning about the mine. They felt no especial 
 interest in the affairs of the mining company themselves, and 
 could see no reason for his solicitude, and were growing 
 weary of his constant and persistent inquiries. 
 
 It was known, of course, that the son of one of the large 
 stockholders had been somewhat intimate with his daughter, 
 and there were found gossips who intimated that "the old 
 man's desire for information from the mines was really a de- 
 sire for information of a certain young man who made his 
 headquarters there during the time he was not roaming
 
 122 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 over the country, flirting with such young girls as were 
 foolish enough to permit it." 
 
 And then the moral vultures, from which even country 
 neighborhoods are not always free, fluttered their wings and 
 indulged in another little flight of fancy. 
 
 "The pretense of a return to school was only a blind," 
 they said. " Lucy's parents had found it necessary to send 
 her from home for a time, and her elder sister accompanied 
 her as a nurse and to prevent any suspicion of the true cause 
 of her going." 
 
 No one who knew the family well gave any heed to these 
 tales, but there were those who did believe them, and who 
 looked upon the changed appearance of John Parsons as con- 
 firmation of them; for there was no denying that there was 
 a change in him. Among his neighbors and at the landing 
 he had been noted for the hearty manner with which he 
 greeted everybody, whether boy or man, and for a jovial ex- 
 pression of countenance that gave an instant impression of a 
 prosperous and contented man, as well as the possessor of a 
 kindly heart. But now his whole expression and manner 
 was changed. Often at the landing he passed men whom he 
 knew, without appearing to see them, and looked at strangers 
 without speaking, but in a manner which seemed to question 
 them of their purpose in coming to the locality. All the 
 jollity had left him, and his greetings, even to his best friends, 
 had lost their hearty cordiality, and he inquired less frequently 
 after their health and more and more often if they had any 
 news from the mines, until even they began to wonder if 
 there might not be something in the rumors which had 
 reached their ears, and one day when he had seemed partic- 
 ularly downcast, a neighbor, in reply to his usual inquiries 
 for news from Gravel Hill, said: 
 
 ' See here, Parsons, I know it isn't any of my business,
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN*. 123 
 
 but if I were you I believe I would go up to the mines and 
 see Mr. Annelsey. Young men are sometimes a little wild 
 without being really bad at heart, and maybe if you see him 
 yourself and talk to him without showing temper he'll do the 
 square thing." 
 
 The "square thing" that John Parsons wanted done was 
 to leave him and his in undisturbed possession of their home, 
 with its vineyards and orchards, its plot of ground where the 
 turkeys and chickens and ducks wandered and nested and 
 raised their young; the rose bush over the cottage porch; 
 the vegetable garden at the side; the fields for pasturage and 
 grain stretching away on every side. 
 
 He thought of Mr. Annelsey only in connection with the 
 mine whose washings might flood his ranch and destroy all 
 that Martha and he had labored so hard to accumulate, and 
 leave them in their old age to begin all over again. And 
 what use to begin again if this place, too, should be wrested 
 from them ? He would have no heart, no faith to go farther 
 or do more. He should feel that God was out of the uni- 
 verse; that the sun had set in eternal night, if forced again 
 to take his loved ones and flee into the wilderness. 
 
 Not the faintest intimation o'f the meaning of the neigh- 
 bor's words reached his mind. Had it done so, had he 
 known that the kindly meant words of his friend implied a 
 stain upon the character of his daughter, he would have re- 
 sented it in a manner to prevent its repetition, at least in his 
 presence; but he saw only a suggestion that he should go 
 personally to the mines, see with his own eyes how great the 
 cause for alarm really was, take advantage of his acquaint- 
 ance with Mr. Annelsey in the work of securing information, 
 and in case he found the danger imminent, to induce the 
 young man to use his influence to avert it. 
 
 The neighbor's allusion to Annelsey as " wild " he did
 
 124 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 not notice; or, if he did, supposed that the speaker intended 
 to convey the thought that the company might not be in- 
 clined to give much weight, in matters of business, to the 
 advice of so young a man; regarding him as inexperienced 
 and consequently wild in his judgment. But the suggestion 
 of visiting the mines and seeing for himself the whole sit- 
 uation, struck him as a good one, and he resolved at once 
 to go. 
 
 The next morning at breakfast he announced his inten- 
 tion of going to Gravel Hill. He made no mention of his 
 purpose in going, and neither his wife nor Erastus had any 
 need to ask; they understood without asking, and raised no 
 objections. Possibly they hoped he might learn something 
 which would relieve his anxiety and bring back his old time 
 cheerfulness. Martha Parsons felt that the house was terri- 
 bly gloomy of late. The girls absent, her husband silent 
 and moody, even Erastus seemed depressed and downcast; 
 the whole atmosphere of the household was changed, and 
 but for Johnny, who was too young to feel anxiety about 
 anything pertaining to the future, the circle which gathered 
 about their daily board would have been a silent one indeed. 
 
 Johnny was, as was but natural, the pet of the family. 
 Being the baby, and with a goodly number of years between 
 himself and the next older, he had been allowed his own 
 way until there had grown up a doubt in his mind as to 
 who was head of the family, and entitled to have their orders 
 obeyed. 
 
 Of a sunny temperament, he was seldom actually bad, 
 but was full of life, active but sensitive, and easily hurt by 
 a harsh word or a refusal on the part of any one to accept 
 any favor which he might fancy himself to be conferring. 
 When not asleep or attending to his ducks and chickens he 
 was constantly with his father, playing in the dirt, while
 
 POOR JOHNNY PRESENTED A SORRY PICTURE, AS HIS LITTLE BOOTS 
 WERE SEEN HIGHER THAN HIS HEAD, WHILE THE OLD DOG STOOD 
 HALF TURNED AROUND TRYING TO TAKE IN THE SITUATION, AND 
 LOOKING MORE TROUBLED, IF POSSIBLE, THAN THE CHILD,
 
 126 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 John, Sen., tied up the grape vines, helping to carry away the 
 limbs when the orchard was trimmed, aiding in bringing 
 in the fruit and vegetables when they were gathered, sit- 
 ting astride his father's shoulders as he went to and from 
 the barn, or by his side in the spring wagon as he drove 
 about the place or to town. 
 
 Sometimes he would hitch Bose to a little wagon his 
 father had made for him, and, climbing into it, would drive 
 him about the place; but, to his sorrow, he had found that 
 the dog was entirely too active for his own comfort; in fact, 
 the last time he had tried to play horse in this way it came 
 so near ending in a serious accident that it put a stop to all 
 such experiments. 
 
 The dog had started off on a rapid run, and in making 
 a sudden turn as he passed a little tree that stood in the 
 yard, had caught one of the front wheels upon it in such a 
 way as to violently throw the boy out and badly wreck the 
 wagon. Poor Johnny presented a sorry picture as his little 
 boots were seen higher than his head, while the old dog 
 stood half turned around trying to take in the situation, and 
 looking more troubled, if possible, than the child. 
 
 No sooner did his father say he was going to Gravel Hill 
 than Johnny announced his intentions of accompanying 
 him. 
 
 " I hardly think he had better go, do you, father ? " said 
 Mrs. Parsons to her husband; "it's a long ride over the 
 hills, and you will be forced to stay over night, besides 
 which Johnny will be a bother to you in getting about to 
 see the mines. I guess he had better stay at home with 
 Erastus and me, and help us to take care of the ducks and 
 chickens this time." 
 
 But Johnny persisted. He "wanted to see Gravel Hill; " 
 "wanted to see the mines; " " wanted to see 'em throw the
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 127 
 
 water," and finally clinched his argument by asserting that 
 his father would be lonesome without him. And so he had 
 his way and went with his father. 
 
 The road over the " hills," which were really mountains, 
 was rocky and often precipitous, but the horses were used to 
 such, and with only Mr. Parsons and Johnny in the spring 
 buck-board, they made pretty good time, arriving at their 
 destination just as the sun was sinking out of sight. 
 
 Stopping in front of the largest building in the town, Mr. 
 Parsons gave the lines to Johnny to hold while he went in to 
 inquire if he could obtain lodging for the night. He was 
 promised a bed for himself and boy in a room in which were 
 a half-dozen other beds, and was shown where to get feed 
 for his horses after he had taken them from the buck- 
 board and tied them to a rack in the rear of the boarding- 
 house. No shelter for animals had yet been built, and for 
 the present there was little need of any, the winter rains not 
 having set in. 
 
 By the time he had cared for his animals supper was 
 ready, and father and son joined the score of men who 
 gathered about the long table upon which was placed a sub- 
 stantial meal of bacon, potatoes, bread, beans and strong 
 coffee. 
 
 The room was lighted by candles, stuck, a portion of 
 them, in tin or sheet-iron candlesticks; others in blocks 
 of wood into which a hole had been bored to receive 
 them. 
 
 The men were mostly miners in the employ of one or 
 other of the placer companies having claims in the neigh- 
 borhood, or were working on a small scale for themselves. 
 Nearly all wore red flannel shirts, and most of them had 
 their sleeves rolled up to the elbow, just as they came 
 from their work; or, perhaps, in imitation of those of their
 
 128 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 number whose garments were lacking sleeves altogether ex- 
 cept a few inches at the shoulder. 
 
 But if they lacked for wearing apparel, none were lack- 
 ing in appetite, and the coarsely cooked food disappeared 
 from before them in a way that would have astonished any 
 cook not accustomed to provide provender for a lot of hun- 
 gry miners. 
 
 Of these men John Parsons learned that the work of 
 washing down the mountains had already begun. The water 
 had been brought from a stream three miles distant and 
 many feet above the placers which it was the intention to work, 
 and conducted into an immense reservoir, which had been 
 built on the bluffs above. From this reservoir strong pipes 
 of heavy duck cloth, strengthened by bands of iron, con- 
 veyed it to the point below, from which it was directed 
 against the hills which contained the gold. 
 
 This piping was six or eight inches in diameter, with bands 
 ot iron every few inches, and ended in a nozzle like that of 
 a garden or fire hose, and from the immense pressure of the 
 water above would throw a stream with sufficient force to cut 
 a man or a horse in two instantly, and which ate into the side 
 of the mountain as fire eats into a dry brush heap. 
 
 To obtain the gold- which was in fine particles scattered 
 through the whole earth of the hills composing the placers 
 sluiceways, extending some distance down the gorge, had 
 been built, through which all the earth and stones to be 
 washed down were to be passed. 
 
 The bottom of this sluice was of planks, upon which was 
 nailed, or wedged, circular pieces from the ends of logs, alter- 
 nating with rows of slats also fastened across the bottom of 
 the sluice, into the upper end of which was turned many 
 pounds of quicksilver, which gradually made its way through
 
 OR, JUST A c AMPIN'. 129 
 
 the sluice, lodging in little pools between the interstices of 
 the circular pieces of wood, or on the upper side of the slats, 
 and served to catch and hold the fine particles of gold as 
 they sunk to the bottom of the mass of earth passing through 
 the sluice and being pulverized by the action of the water 
 and its own grinding motion. 
 
 Not one company only, but several, had taken claims and 
 were prepared for an assault upon the hills with these enor- 
 mous pipes. All, however, took their water from the same 
 reservoir, paying those who had built it by the thousand 
 feet, for the amount used. 
 
 John Parsons slept but little that night, and was up at 
 the first noise which indicated that any of the other occu- 
 pants were astir. 
 
 Leaving Johnny asleep in the bed he went out and fed 
 his horses, and then came in and sat down in the bar-room 
 to wait for breakfast. When he saw that the meal was nearly 
 ready, he awakened Johnny, and after eating, started to look 
 at the mines, which were a good half mile away, taking the 
 boy with him. 
 
 The men who handled the pipes were on the ground as 
 soon as he. The day previous they had exploded fifty kegs 
 of powder in a tunnel which they had dug into the hillside, 
 and had rent and torn the earth in every direction. They 
 now turned the water from long lines of hose upon the loos- 
 ened mass, and began washing away the earth with a rapidity 
 which promised to soon reduce the hills to a level with the 
 valleys. 
 
 "Talk about faith movin' mountains," said the man who 
 handled the pipe, as he watched the dirt crumble and dis- 
 solve, while great trees and rocks slowly sank into the abyss. 
 "Talk about faith movin' mountains, and I'm a 1-e-e-t-l-e bit
 
 1 TALK ABOUT FAITH MOVIN* MOUNTAINS, AND I'M JUST A L-E-E-T-L-E 
 BIT SKEPTICAL, I AM ; BUT SAY, FAITH AND A STREAM OF WATER 
 FROM ONE OF THESE HERE PIPES, AN* I'LL GAMBLE ON IT EVERY 
 TIME." 
 
 130
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN 131 
 
 skeptical, I am ; but say, faith and a stream of water from 
 one of these here pipes, an' I'll gamble on it evepy time." * 
 
 John Parsons turned from the sight, faint and sick at 
 heart. He had seen enough. They would wash the earth 
 of those hills from their rocky foundations as the dust is 
 washed from the paved streets of a city by a July shower, 
 and the valleys must become its resting place. Farms, and 
 orchards, and vineyards would be covered, at the first great 
 flood, with the worthless earth of the mountain tops which 
 was now pouring through the sluice into the gulch below. 
 Fertile fields would be made barren, their owners impover- 
 ished, their homes made desolate; all, all, that a few men 
 already rich might grow richer by possessing themselves of 
 the few penny's worth of gold that lay hidden in each cubic 
 foot of the mountain's top. 
 
 " 'Ow do you do, sir; I 'ope. I see you well?" 
 
 John Parsons turned squarely around and stood face to 
 face with Mr. Jobbers, who extended his hand with a rather 
 pompous though cordial air. 
 
 " 'Ow is Mrs. Parsons and the young ladies; well, I 'ope? 
 Mr. Hannelsey was telling me before 'e left as 'ow 'e 'ad 
 hoften called on you during 'is fishing and 'unting 
 
 * "A peculiar instance of how thoroughly the placer diggings have been worked is 
 evidenced in Shaw's flat, an exceedingly rich plateau in the County Tuolumne. In 
 1851 this was a beautiful level park studded with trees, among them many noble cedars. 
 I n 1860 the whole plain from four to five miles across was one scene of gaunt desolation. 
 The entire dirt had been washed away ; not a single tree remained. Shaw's flat, once 
 proverbial for the richness of its mines, was silent and solitary. The bed rock was 
 composed of limestone. The headwaters of the river Stanislaus had been brought to 
 bear upon the soil, and had washed away every grain of it through Dragon gulch into 
 the lowlands. Nothing remained but the white bare rocks that looked like tombstones ; 
 the more so, as they were of all shapes. Some of them flat, others peaked, others 
 needle shaped, and some arched. 
 
 With 200 inches of water 250,000 cubic feet of dirt can be washed in a working 
 week." Front "Six MONTHS IN CALIFORNIA," by J. G. Player Fraud, London, 
 England. Page 96 7.
 
 132 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 sions. Come hup to my quarters and 'ave a glass of 
 wine." 
 
 It is not to be supposed that Mr. Jobbers' invitation was 
 caused by his having noticed the look of exhaustion and 
 hopelessness which had settled upon the face of John Par- 
 sons. He was not in the habit of noticing the look of peo- 
 ple's faces, unless he suspected them of having designs upon 
 his purse. He was not a bad man at heart; he was even 
 capable of being generous at times and in a way or at least 
 he believed he was. 
 
 If a beggar appealed to him in a particularly touching 
 manner he gave him a shilling, and had even been known to 
 give a half-crown when feeling especially amiable; but it 
 never occurred to him that a beggar had any feelings except 
 of cold or hunger, and these he supposed only in a modified 
 degree, and not keenly as people in affluent circumstances 
 would do if by accident they were to miss a meal, or be 
 caught out in a storm without sufficient clothing. 
 
 Besides, it was intended that some should be rich and 
 some poor; of this he had no doubt whatever; and it was the 
 duty of everyone to be contented in the condition in which 
 God has placed him. He was contented with his lot, and he 
 felt that he thereby performed pretty nearly his whole duty 
 to society, and he had no sympathy with those who made 
 complaint against their condition in life; but occasionally 
 would give the price of a meal of victuals just to prove to 
 himself and the world that he could be generous as well as 
 strictly just. 
 
 Such freaks were not common with him; at least not 
 enough so to excite any fears of his bankrupting himself on 
 the part of his friends; and when it did occur it was invari- 
 ably after having eaten a hearty dinner.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 133 
 
 Then, too, he recognized the claims of hospitality; and 
 having eaten and slept beneath the roof of the man now 
 standing before him, he wished to prove that he could be 
 hospitable in his turn. 
 
 John Parsons was not a lover of wine, and seldom drank 
 it, although wine of his own making was always in his house, 
 and often on his table; but now he felt that a glass of it 
 would stiffen him up and maybe clear his ideas, which some- 
 way seemed terribly mixed. Then, too, he suddenly remem- 
 bered that he wanted to talk with Mr. Jobbers. 
 
 He had utterly forgotten about Mr. Annelsey, and would 
 have given him no thought had not Mr. Jobbers mentioned 
 him, and now he did not think to inquire why or where the 
 young man had gone. It was sufficient that he was gone, 
 and so could be of no use in influencing the company to 
 cease the work of destroying homes. But Mr. Jobbers was 
 one of the company; he represented that half of the stock 
 which was held in London, and if he could only be made to 
 see how much damage was certain to be done, how many 
 homes ruined if the work went on, he might, voting for those 
 whom he represented, stop the whole thing at once, by stop- 
 ping work upon his own mine and refusing to sell water to 
 the other companies. 
 
 It was a foolish thought, for when have men ever refused 
 to get rich from fear of ruining others ? yet John Parsons 
 said to himself that he would try, and if that failed he would 
 threaten them with the law. No, not the law, for he felt that 
 that was always on the side of the rich. Only the higher 
 law; the right of every human being to all the products of 
 his own toil, and to defend that right regardless of conse- 
 quences to those who attempted to violate that law, was 
 worthy of being appealed to, he thought; and he called to
 
 134 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 mind the instances in which men who were_ being robbed 
 under guise of legal enactments there on the coast, had 
 appealed to this higher law and administered justice with a 
 bold hand. 
 
 But now he would go with Mr. Jobbers and would see 
 what could be done to save his own home and those of his 
 neighbors from destruction.
 
 OR. JUST A CAMPIN . 135 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 DEEPENING SHADOWS. 
 
 So that he gathered the red ore and precious stones, 
 What has man ever cared for hearts that bled ? 
 
 What has he recked of altars overthrown ; 
 Of brave men dead; of hearthstones 
 
 Overgrown with weeds ? 
 
 Deeds 
 
 Louder speak than words, and deeds 
 
 Of man in all the past proclaim 
 
 He only cared for gold gold and a name ; 
 
 For that his name might live, 
 
 He oft has carved it deep in living, 
 
 Quivering human flesh; 
 
 Just as he mar'd the beauty of the hills, 
 
 And bar'd the streams from out their places, 
 
 And scar'd the face of nature 
 
 With deep seams cut in her face 
 
 In his mad search for gold. 
 
 A very foolish thought it was that of John Parsons 
 that a rich company which had expended more than one 
 hundred thousand dollars in erecting water flumes and 
 sluices for washing down the hills and gathering gold, would 
 cease operations just because a few thousand acres of vine- 
 yard and grain lands would be destroyed, and the homes of 
 a hundred poor men made desolate. 
 
 And yet John Parsons saw nothing foolish in the thought. 
 On the contrary he felt momentarily certain that when 
 he should show Mr. Jobbers how the stones and earth 
 washed down would be carried through the sluice into the
 
 136 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 gorge, and from there into the creek, filling up its bed and 
 causing it to seek new channels; that with the first great 
 flood the sand and gravel would be carried over the whole 
 valley, and settling as the water receded, render absolutely 
 valueless thousands and thousands* of acres of fine agricul- 
 tural lands worth more to future generations than all the 
 gold in the mountains; land now covered with vineyards and 
 orchards and the cottages of honest people, who had made 
 every dollar they possessed by hard work surely, he thought, 
 when they know this, these men will not refuse to cease their 
 work of destruction and leave the settlers in peace. Surely, 
 these men who are already rich and can provide their fami- 
 lies with every luxury, will not deprive others of their homes 
 in order to pile up heaps of gold that can add nothing to 
 their own comfort. 
 
 "No, no," he said to himself, "it is not possible that 
 they can be so heartless as that. They have not consid- 
 ered the damage it will do to the ranchmen and their fami- 
 lies or they would never have gone on with the work," and 
 he began to blame himself that he had not sooner called 
 their attention to the fact, and so have saved these generous 
 men who were to surfer the loss of so much wealth rather 
 than wrong others, and to devise means for raising at least a 
 portion of it among his neighbors, who would thus have 
 escaped the threatened destruction. 
 
 It could be arranged, he thought, and no one surfer very 
 greatly. He would give five hundred or even a thousand 
 dollars himself. It was only just that he should, since he 
 had allowed the company to go to such heavy expenditures 
 without calling their attention to the damage that would be 
 done, and doubtless many others would do as much. Yes, it 
 could all be arranged easily, and his home would be saved 
 after all.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 137 
 
 All this passed through John Parsons' brain in a moment 
 as he turned to follow Mr. Jobbers. 
 
 He did not reason it out. It came as an inspiration. In 
 an instant the whole situation, the degree of responsibility 
 of each interested party, and the requirements of justice, 
 stood out as clearly as the clouds, when illumined by the 
 lightnings, stand out against the blackness of earth and 
 sky at midnight. 
 
 Yet when he found himself in the office of the company, 
 and had been introduced to the representative of the New 
 York stockholders, he did not feel quite so certain that they 
 would see it in the same light in which he saw it; or that the 
 inspiration which had come to him had reached their minds 
 also. Somehow their look of self-sufficiency and air of as- 
 sured prosperity, brought back the clouds and made all dark 
 again. 
 
 But he would not abandon the idea. He would point 
 out the wrong about to be done, and ask for justice. 
 
 And so, slowly and brokenly at first, and then rapidly, 
 and with a native eloquence that his ungrammatical words 
 could not hide, he poured out the story of his hopes and 
 fears, mingled with a bit of his past history; the wrongs he 
 had suffered, he and his, and of his willingness to give largely 
 to help reimburse the company for their expenditures, if they 
 would stop the supply of water and so remove the danger 
 which threatened his home. 
 
 When he began speaking, Mr. Jobbers turned towards 
 him with a look of surprise upon his red face that speedily 
 turned to one of incredulity, then anger mingled with the 
 look of incredulity, and both gave place to contempt, and 
 when John Parsons ceased speaking the Englishman turned 
 to his partner. 
 
 " Well, Hi never," he said, speaking each word sepa-
 
 138 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 rately and with emphasis. " Hif 'e isn't a-haskin' of us to 
 give up our henterprise and let the gold remain in the 'ills, 
 where it is no use to hanybody, just because the earth that 
 composes 'em may be washed down upon 'is blarsted bit of 
 a ranch." 
 
 Mr. Jobbers' partner smiled. At least the muscles of his 
 face drew back from the mouth slightly. He evidently 
 pitied the ignorance of a man who could make such a request, 
 and who now sat with his arm thrown about his boy, Johnny 
 having crept to his side while he had been speaking. 
 
 ' You evidently fail to comprehend the situation, Mr. 
 Parsons," he said. " What would your ranch be worth if you 
 could not sell its products ? 
 
 "Gold," he continued, "is the world's medium of ex- 
 change, and gold must be had in order to carry on business. 
 All trade and commerce would cease if the supply of gold 
 did not keep pace with the increased power of the produc- 
 tion of the people. You yourself could not exchange your 
 grapes and other fruits for wearing apparel the comforts 
 and necessities of life if it were not for the gold which is 
 coined into money. 
 
 "We do not know," he went on, "why the gold was 
 placed in such fine particles as to require that the hills be 
 washed down in order to obtain it, but undoubtedly it was for 
 some wise purpose; and in bringing it forth we are doing a' 
 great thing for civilization, and for the common people as 
 well as the rich; so you see you are acting very selfishly as 
 well as foolishly in suggesting such a thing as stopping work 
 on the mines." 
 
 And to all this John Parsons could answer not a 
 word. 
 
 He felt that his opponent's reasoning was fallacious, even 
 blasphemous. That it certainly could not be necessary; that
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 139 
 
 God could not have intended it to be necessary, that the very 
 means of existence, the soil, which is the origin of all wealth, 
 should be rendered barren and valueless in order to obtain 
 that with which to exchange wealth; and that there was no 
 justice in robbing him and his, that others might possess 
 more of that of which they already had enough for all their 
 needs. 
 
 But he was not accustomed to argument. He had just 
 made the longest speech of his life, and these men judged it 
 foolish and him insane. He could say no more, and he arose 
 without a word further, and carrying his boy in his arms, 
 passed out of the building and turned towards the place 
 where he had left his horses. 
 
 He had but one thought now to get back home. 
 
 His wife, he dimly felt, would sympathize with him and 
 comfort him: that is, such comfort as she could give, which 
 was all the comfort that he would ever know. He should 
 never be anybody again; never hold up his head again among 
 men. Powerless to protect those he loved, there was but one 
 comfort left him to hide in the bosom of his family, the 
 members of whom would pity him although they might not 
 be able to have much respect for one who was a man, yet 
 could not protect them from poverty and suffering and hun- 
 ger. In his over-wrought state of mind it seemed to him 
 that his home was already gone, and he would not have been 
 surprised could he have been suddenly transported to his 
 cottage, to have found it a mass of ruins, with the rose vine 
 dead above the porch, and his vineyard, and orchard, and 
 fields covered with a mass of debris from the mines. 
 
 He paid his bill at the boarding house without seeing the 
 party to whom he paid it, watered his horses and hitched 
 them to the buckboard mechanically, and turned their heads 
 homeward with a look of such absolute hopelessness that
 
 140 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 even Johnny was silent, his young spirits overborne by the 
 weight of his father's woe. 
 
 Several times during the first half of the homeward jour- 
 ney the boy tried to arouse his father by pointing to some 
 bird, or flower, by the roadside, but if he heard at all John 
 Parsons replied to the lad only in monosyllables, or at ran- 
 dom, and again relapsed into the silence which was so de- 
 pressing to the child. 
 
 When a little more than half way home, as they were 
 winding around a hill upon the edge of a deep gorge, two 
 deer which had been sleeping in a bunch of tall grass by the 
 roadside suddenly sprang up and bounded across, almost 
 under the noses of the horses. 
 
 So unexpected was their presence and their movement, 
 that the horses themselves, half asleep and jogging along un- 
 der a loose rein and with ears dropped forward, took fright 
 and jumped quickly sideways, overturning the buckboard and 
 throwing its occupants out with considerable force. 
 
 Clinging to the lines, as he instinctively did, prevented 
 John Parsons from going over the bluff, and after being 
 dragged a few rods he brought the horses to a stop and arose 
 to his feet unharmed, excepting a few scratches and bruises 
 about the face and limbs. But Johnny, having nothing to 
 cling to except the back of the seat, which was wrenched 
 from his grasp in the fall, was thrown violently over the bluff, 
 and rolled half-way down its steep side, being caught at last 
 by a huge boulder which had itself fallen down from above 
 at some previous period. 
 
 Mr. Parsons' first thought when he arose was of Johnny, 
 and he looked around, hoping to see him unhurt and scram- 
 bling up the bank. 
 
 But, no; he was nowhere in sight. His father called 
 once; then again then he hastily tied the now perfectly quiet
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 141 
 
 animals to a stunted manzenita tree by the roadside and ran 
 back to look for the boy. 
 
 Not seeing him from the point on the road where the 
 buckboard was overturned, he rushed over the bluff, nearly 
 pitching headlong in his haste, and scrambled down its side, 
 coming upon the body of the boy where it lay, with eyes 
 closed and one arm bent under in a way in which it could 
 only be if broken, and with blood issuing from nose and ears. 
 
 For a moment John Parsons stood with a look of awful 
 horror on his face, and then his strength left him and he 
 staggered and leaned upon the rock against which the body 
 lay. 
 
 The next instant his strength returned, and with great 
 beads of perspiration standing out upon his face, he knelt 
 down and placed his hand over the lad's heart. 
 
 There was a faint fluttering there, and raising the body 
 in his arms he worked his way up to the road, coming out of 
 the gorge several rods in advance of where the horses stood 
 hitched to the manzenita bush. 
 
 Still holding the body in his arms he attempted to unsnap 
 the halter strap with which they were tied, intending to leave 
 it hanging to the bush; but the horses were frightened at 
 sight of the limp body and the scent of blood, and drew 
 back. 
 
 He might have untied the strap from the tree without 
 difficulty, but if this were done it must be allowed to drag 
 on the ground and might cause the horses to stumble and 
 again throw him from the buckboard, which had righted it- 
 self after having thrown its occupants out. He laid his bur- 
 den carefully on the ground, untied the strap and secured it 
 in its place, again lifted his child in his arms, got upon the 
 buckboard and drove with as much speed as he safely could 
 down the hill, and then turned off to the left into a by-road
 
 THERE WAS A FAINT FLUTTERING THERE, AND RAISING THE BODY 
 IN HIS ARMS HE WORKED HIS WAY UP TO THE ROAD, COMING 
 OUT OF THE GORGE SEVERAL RODS IN ADVANCE OF WHERE THE 
 HORSES STOOD HITCHED TO THE MANZINETA BUSH. 
 142
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 143 
 
 which he knew led to a settler's shanty not more than a quar- 
 ter of a mile away. 
 
 By the time he reached it, Johnny was showing signs of 
 returning life, and a hope that he might not be so badly in- 
 jured as at first appeared was beginning to find lodgment 
 in his father's breast. 
 
 As it chanced, the only occupant of the shanty at the 
 moment was a woman, her husband being in the field, and 
 the children at a neighbor's on an errand. 
 
 Through the open door she saw a stranger approaching 
 with the limp body of a child in his arms, and understood at 
 once that an accident had happened. Catching the dinner- 
 horn from the nail where it hung, she ran to the back door 
 and blew several loud and sharp blasts, then rushed back, 
 and without stopping to ask any questions, or even for him 
 to reach the door, called to Mr. Parsons to " come right in," 
 at the same time arranging the bed to receive the body. 
 
 John Parsons looked his thanks and laid his burden down 
 upon the place prepared for it, the woman assisting him, 
 and placing the poor broken arm in as natural a position as 
 possible. As she did so, the sufferer's eyes opened and 
 closed, then opened again. Then his lips parted and a low 
 moan escaped them. 
 
 John Parsons sank down by the bedside and looked at 
 his boy with agony depicted in every lineament of his face 
 more terrible than that of his child's, and when another 
 moan came and the eyes of his boy were turned to him as 
 if pleading for help, he buried his face in the bedclothes 
 and groaned as if his very soul was being wrung from him. 
 
 " You had better go for a doctor at once," said Mrs. 
 Jones, for that was the woman's name; " there's none nearer 
 than the Landing, ten miles away, and the sooner he can be 
 got here the better. My husband will be here in a few mo-
 
 144 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEAJ 
 
 ments, and we will take the best care of the child we know 
 how until you get back; and after all he may not be so badly 
 hurt as he appears to be; if it is only a broken arm it doesn't 
 really amount to anything very serious except the pain; and 
 the sooner it is set the less that will be." 
 
 John Parsons was on his feet and out of the door almost 
 before Mrs. Jones had ceased speaking. 
 
 Stripping the gears from one of his horses without even 
 unhitching the tugs from the singletree, he jumped upon the 
 animal's back, dashed down the lane, out upon the main road 
 and across the little valley. 
 
 When he reached the hill upon the opposite side he 
 sprang from his seat without more than checking the speed 
 of his horse and ran by his side up the incline, keeping the 
 animal in a trot, but reaching the top with his steed much 
 less exhausted than if he had borne the weight of his rider. 
 Then mounting again he dashed on across the next valley, a 
 race of a mile and a half, with the speed of the wind, again 
 springing to the ground as the steeper portion of the next 
 hill was reached, for he knew that an animal unused to long 
 heats at his best paces will make better time if relieved of the 
 rider's weight for a few moments occasionally in making 
 steep ascents. 
 
 And so he reached the little town at the Landing with his 
 animal covered with foam, but still able to keep a sharp run. 
 
 The appearance of horse and rider as they passed through 
 the one main street which the town could boast of, drew 
 everybody to their doors, and when they saw him spring to 
 the ground in front of the doctor's office, a dozen persons 
 gathered about to learn the cause of his hasty ride. 
 
 As they heard him tell the doctor of the accident to 
 Johnny, and beg that he would hasten with all possible 
 speed, and that he would loan him a fresh horse so he might
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 145 
 
 return with him, making certain that he did not miss the 
 way, there were expressions of sympathy and offers of the 
 loan of horses for both, if the doctor's were not fresh. 
 They also offered to carry the sad news to Mrs. Parsons, 
 that she might hasten to the side of her injured child. 
 
 " Ef you would, men, you'd be doin' me a mighty great 
 favor," he said in reply to their kindly offers. "Tell her 
 and 'Rastus to hitch the ponies to the spring wagon and 
 come at once. Tell 'em to follow the Gravel Hill road till 
 they come to the limestone bluffs 'Rastus '11 know where 
 I mean and then turn to the left, an* it's the first shanty 
 they come to." 
 
 Then mounting the animal which had been led out to 
 him, he dashed away, the doctor keeping by his side, his 
 case of instruments in his saddle-bags hanging upon his 
 saddle. 
 
 When the party who had volunteered to notify Mrs. 
 Parsons of the accident reached the cottage it was already 
 getting dark, and a lamp was burning in the dining-room, 
 where supper was spread and the family waited the coming 
 of the absent ones, now momentarily expected. 
 
 Hearing the clatter of a horse's feet on the hard road, 
 Mrs. Parsons went to the door just as the rider sprang from 
 his saddle, and throwing the bridle rein over the hitching 
 post, advanced up the gravel walk. 
 
 In a few words he told his errand. 
 
 "An accident had happened; the horses, taking fright, had 
 thrown Johnny and his father out of the buggy. Mr. Par- 
 sons had escaped unhurt, but Johnny's arm was broken, and 
 he was lying in a shanty near where the accident occurred, 
 and to which Mr. Parsons had returned with the doctor, 
 while the speaker came to tell Mrs. Parsons, that she might 
 go to her child at once." . 
 
 10
 
 146 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Martha Parsons neither screamed nor fainted. She 
 called Erastus and bade him bring the ponies and spring 
 wagon while she hurried to get together linen for bandages, 
 and such other articles as might be most needed. 
 
 When Erastus drove up to the gate she called to him to 
 come in and get a couple of feather beds and some cover- 
 ing and put them in the wagon, for she knew that settlers 
 in the mountains were not always supplied with a super- 
 abundance of bedding. And, besides, if Johnny was not 
 too badly hurt and the man who brought the news of the 
 accident had conveyed the impression that a broken arm was 
 the extent of the injury he could be laid on the bed and 
 brought home in the spring wagon at once. 
 
 Driving at night over a hilly road is not the most rapid 
 way of transit, but the ponies were urged forward with as 
 much speed as possible, considering the darkness, and just 
 at midnight were halted at the door of Mr. Jones' shanty. 
 
 The inmates had heard them coming and Mr. Parsons 
 was standing at the gate waiting for them. 
 
 "I'm mortal glad you're come, mother," he said, as he 
 lifted his wife from the wagon. "Johnny's pretty bad hurt 
 the doctor says, but he's set his arm and the lad's sleepin' a 
 little now. 
 
 " The folks here are es kind es kin be, and everything 
 has been done that kin be done to make him comfortable, 
 but the doctor says he can't be moved for several days, an' 
 maybe weeks, and I reckon 'Rastus had better go back an' 
 write to one of the girls to come home at once, for I know 
 you won't leave Johnny, an' there ought to be some one to 
 home to see to things." 
 
 Mrs. Parsons was unwilling to have the girls leave school 
 in the middle of the term if it could be avoided, and she sug- 
 gested that they wait a few .days.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 147 
 
 It might be that Johnny could be moved sooner than the 
 doctor thought. At any rate they had better wait a little 
 and see; especially as Erastus expressed a willingness to get 
 on as well as he could without a cook and housekeeper for a 
 time, if thought best. 
 
 And so he returned home, leaving both Mr. and Mrs. 
 Parsons at the shanty with the injured boy. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Parsons went to the Landing, rid- 
 ing the horse which he had left at the shanty the day before 
 when he went for the doctor, and leading the borrowed one, 
 which he returned to its owner. Then taking his own, he 
 rode to his own home. Here he remained but a few hours 
 and was again on his way to the shanty among the hills to 
 resume his watch by the bedside of his child. 
 
 The doctor came again the next day, and every day for 
 many days and weeks; for Johnny was not moved from the 
 shanty whose inmates had shown so much hospitality, for 
 three long months; and when at last he was taken home his 
 parents knew that he would never again be the healthy, rol- 
 licksome boy he had been, going everywhere about the house 
 and ranch, and carrying sunshine wherever he went, but that 
 he was to be a cripple always; the injury to his back making 
 it impossible that he should ever stand erect or be able to 
 walk again. 
 
 When it became evident that weeks, and maybe months, 
 would elapse before Johnny could be moved from the Jones 
 shanty, the girls had been written to as their father at first 
 suggested, and had come immediately home and assumed the 
 care of household affairs. 
 
 Occasionally one of them took Mrs. Parsons' place at the 
 bedside of the sufferer, while the mother returned to the cot- 
 tage to see that everything was going right, or for a rest of a 
 night or two.
 
 148 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 John Parsons had also remained at the Jones shanty the 
 greater portion of the time; for Johnny was fretful in his 
 sufferings, and no one could lift or turn him so well as his 
 father, whom quite as much as his mother he wanted con- 
 stantly near him. And so he had remained, trusting every- 
 thing on the ranch to Erastus, and going home only when it 
 was necessary to obtain provisions, or a change of clothing 
 for himself or wife, or something for Johnny. 
 
 No one could possibly have shown more kindness and 
 sympathy than did Mr. and Mrs. Jones, who were thus called 
 upon to act the part of good Samaritans to those whom they 
 had never before seen. They even consented that their own 
 children should leave them for a time when the fever had 
 set in, and Johnny was at the worst, that their noise might 
 not disturb him, and they had been taken to the Parsons 
 cottage, where they remained some weeks and were cared 
 for by Erastus and the girls. 
 
 When the crippled boy was at last removed to his own 
 home, these kind people beneath whose roof he had been so 
 long, would not consent to make any charge for their trouble 
 or to accept any pay, except such as was forced upon them 
 in the way of presents to Mrs. Jones and the children.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN 149 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 BUILDING THE DAM. 
 
 The events recorded in our last chapter served, for a time, 
 to arouse John Parsons from the unhealthy mental condition 
 into which he was sinking; for so long as the lad's life was 
 in danger, every other thought gave way before the one great 
 fear of losing Johnny, his baby, his only boy. But when the 
 more imminent danger was past, the fear of losing their home 
 came again with redoubled force as he realized that his child 
 must always remain a cripple, dependent upon others for 
 every necessity and enjoyment in life. 
 
 It was at thought of this, too, that Mrs. Parsons broke 
 down. 
 
 Always heretofore she had been the one to preserve a 
 cheerful countenance, and to encourage her husband with 
 expressions of hope that the danger to their home might not 
 be so great as he feared, or that if so there would come some 
 way out of it. 
 
 " The law will compel the company to make good the 
 damages if they occur," she would tell him; "and even if we 
 lose the land we will still have the stock and household goods 
 and a nice little sum of money in the bank, and we are not 
 very old yet and will manage to live comfortable, I am sure; 
 so don't worry, dear, it will all come out right in the 
 end." 
 
 But now ! 
 
 When she got down from the spring wagon, and Johnny 
 was lifted out and carried in and laid upon the cot, from
 
 150 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 which, unaided, she knew he was never to rise again, an awful 
 feeling of desolation came over her. She was as one bewil- 
 dered and lost in the woods. The sky, the hills, everything 
 about her, took on the look they have when seen through a 
 piece of smoked or stained glass. The house itself, nay, the 
 very faces of her husband and children, seemed strange and 
 unnatural, and she moved from room to room as if in a 
 dream, and when she spoke she heard her own voice as if it 
 came from afar off, and was the voice of another. 
 
 All day she was in this condition; but the second day she 
 aroused herself by an effort of the will and resumed her usual 
 round of duties, except that much of her time was of neces- 
 sity given to the crippled boy, who lay in a little cot which 
 had been made for him and placed on wheels that he might 
 be moved about the house easily and out into the yard on 
 pleasant days. 
 
 Her husband now spent most of his time in the house. 
 The winter rains, which had set in some weeks previously, 
 rendered out-door work impossible for days at a time, and if 
 they had not done so John Parsons had lost all love for 
 work on the ranch. Besides, Johnny claimed his almost un- 
 divided attention now. 
 
 The little fellow had taken to his father from before the 
 time when he took his first baby steps, and had never been 
 quite so well contented as when in his arms, or perched upon 
 his shoulders, or following him about the place; and now he 
 could not bear to have him out of his sight during his waking 
 moments. 
 
 Often, too, in the night he would waken and call in a 
 weak, piping voice, so different from what it had been in 
 health; and his father would arise and sit by his side for 
 hours, moving his poor wasted body this way or that to give 
 him a little more ease, or divert his mind by tales such as
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 151 
 
 children love to hear, until he fell asleep again or forgot his 
 pain. 
 
 During the day he wheeled him about the house; or if it 
 was sunny, carried him out in his arms to the poultry yard, 
 that he might drop corn to his chickens and ducks; or to 
 the pasture lot, that he might put out his hand and pet the 
 colt that had been promised should be his when both were 
 grown, upon which promise he had built a thousand castles 
 in the air, of encounters with grizzly bears and Indians, 
 besides taking premiums for speed at all the fairs in the 
 country. 
 
 It seemed that the man had but one thought, one object 
 in life now that of caring for the crippled boy. 
 
 Certain it is that he never laughed, except when once in 
 a great while something provoked the child to laughter; then 
 the man always joined in, but at no other time did any mem- 
 ber of the family see a smile upon his face; and he never 
 went from home any more, not even to a neighbor's. 
 
 One day word came that there was to be a meeting at 
 the school house to devise means to save the settlers from 
 the overflow of the mines, and that his neighbors were 
 anxious for him to be present, for by this time the danger 
 was apparent to all. The floods caused by the rains had 
 overflowed the valley to a much greater extent than usual, 
 although the amount of water which had fallen was no more 
 than common at this season of the year. 
 
 The washings from the mines had filled the creek bed, 
 and at places had formed dams that checked the water and 
 caused it to overflow fields never before submerged, and 
 to set back upon little valleys which opened into the larger 
 one through which the creek passed. Much damage to 
 vineyards on the lower lands had already been done or must 
 speedily occur, if the water was not drawn off.
 
 152 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA*, 
 
 The water was thick with the clay of the hills washed 
 down by the mining companies, and in places where the dams 
 had formed, and for long distances on either side, sand and 
 gravel, brought down by the swift, strong current was 
 being deposited upon the tillable lands in large quantities. 
 
 Evidently something must be done, and the messenger 
 who brought notice of the meeting urged strongly that Mr. 
 Parsons be present and advise regarding the action to be 
 taken. 
 
 " 'Tain't no use," he said to his wife when the neighbor 
 was gone. " 'Tain't no use, but I'll go ef you want I should. 
 You'd better send Rastus, though, and let me stay home 
 with Johnny." 
 
 The man's spirit Was sadly broken. He felt that it was 
 useless to contend with the company; that everything was 
 virtually lost already, and had dropped into the habit of 
 leaving everything to his wife and Erastus, doing without 
 questioning whatever they suggested, but appearing unwill- 
 ing even to advise with them; as if he felt himself unworthy, 
 having failed so utterly, to give advice upon which depended 
 the welfare of others. 
 
 " I think you had better go yourself, father," replied 
 Mrs. Parsons to the suggestion of her husband that Erastus 
 should attend the meeting in his stead. " You are the head 
 of the family, and you will have more influence than a young- 
 er man. Erastus can go too, if you and he wish. I think 
 everybody ought to go and see if some means cannot be 
 devised to prevent our homes from being destroyed." 
 
 The meeting of the settlers was held the following after- 
 noon, and John Parsons went. So did Erastus. So did 
 everybody else in the neighborhood. 
 
 Somebody nominated Mr. Parsons for chairman, but he
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 153 
 
 declined, and Mr. Ritchie was elected to preside, and Eras- 
 tus Hemmingway was made secretary. Then the meeting was 
 declared opened and expression of opinion as to the course 
 to be pursued asked for. 
 
 The result was a variety of suggestions and motions. 
 Some favored applying to the courts for an injunction to stop 
 the operations at the mines, but others pointed out that such 
 efforts had been made in similar cases in other parts of the 
 country and had failed, or been delayed until too late to save 
 the property of those applying. 
 
 Others proposed petitioning the legislature for the pas- 
 sage of a bill forbidding hydraulic mining; but as such a 
 law could not be obtained for a year, if at all, this proposi- 
 tion was not favorably received, and finally the meeting ad- 
 journed without having decided upon anything, but with the 
 understanding that they were to meet again the next after- 
 noon and consider the matter still further. 
 
 When they reassembled the next day the whole question 
 was again gone over and yet nothing could be agreed upon. 
 
 To bring suit in court for damages would be to become 
 involved in endless litigation; since they would be contend- 
 ing against those whose resources were virtually limitless, and 
 whose wealth would enable them to protract the suits indefi- 
 nitely; so that if in the end the settlers should be success- 
 ful in obtaining judgment against the companies it would be 
 quite as disastrous as to quietly submit to the outrage. 
 
 If they sued at all, they must make every company, the 
 debris from whose mines emptied into the gulch above them, 
 parties to the complaint, and would thus find arrayed against 
 them men worth millions of dollars, organized in the form of 
 a corporation, proverbially soulless, and certainly without 
 mercy, or sense of justice, or honor, to prevent them from 
 taking advantage of every quibble of the law, made, too, in
 
 154 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 many instances, expressly to delay justice, and administered 
 by officers who owed their election to the men who controlled 
 the corporate capital of the state. 
 
 Threats of personal violence were not lacking. 
 
 There were those who recalled the fact that more than 
 once in the history of the state, thieves, blacklegs and ballot- 
 box staffers, even those who assumed to have been elected 
 to high offices, had been hung upon hastily-erected gallows 
 by men whose only authority for doing so was their natural 
 right to protect themselves and families from being robbed 
 and insulted by organized bands of plunderers. A large 
 majority, however, favored only legal means for the protec- 
 tion of their homes, and it was finally agreed to build a dam 
 across the gorge through which the debris from the mines 
 flowed, at a point above the agricultural settlements, and by 
 cutting through the hill, turn the mass of slickings into an- 
 other gorge, which would cause them to enter the river at a 
 point below, and where no damage would be done to occu- 
 pied lands. 
 
 During the discussions at these meetings John Parsons 
 had said little, and that little only when appealed to for his 
 opinion; but when the building of the dam and the cutting 
 of a new way for the overflowing debris had been decided 
 upon, he called Erastus aside, and after conferring with him 
 a moment, returned and subscribed five hundred dollars to- 
 wards the work to be done. 
 
 The announcement of his subscription was greeted with 
 cheers by the little body of men there assembled. 
 
 "It ain't all my own subscription, men," he said, when 
 the cheering had ceased. " I don't know if any of it right- 
 fully is mine. It's part of the money we was a savin' up fer 
 to buy a ranch fer Erastus with, and it honestly belongs to 
 him. He's earned every cent of it, an' more, too; but you
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 155 
 
 see if the work goes on an' our homes is saved, there's got 
 to be lots of money comin' from somewhere, an' doctors' 
 bills and sich has tuck 'bout everything we made last year, 
 an' bein' as Rastus is willin', we'll plank up the five hundred 
 es soon es the committee that is to have charge of the work 
 is ready to begin." 
 
 Others now came forward and subscribed, a few putting 
 down five hundred each, and many others, smaller sums; 
 the understanding being that such as could not pay money 
 should be allowed to work out their subscriptions at the 
 price paid to other workmen. Committees we*e appointed 
 to solicit assistance from those living further up the valley 
 who might in time be injured if the proposed work was not 
 done, and to have charge of the work, which it was decided 
 should be commenced immediately. 
 
 And now John Parsons took fresh hope. It was possible 
 after all that his home might be saved, and with the possi- 
 bility something of his old cheery manner came back to him. 
 
 The work of cutting through the hill into the neighbor- 
 ing gorge was begun at once. A large number of workmen 
 were employed, and everybody who was directly interested 
 turned out and worked with a will, rain or shine. A tunnel 
 was driven into the side of the hill, and whole kegs of pow- 
 der exploded therein, rending the earth and aiding greatly 
 in the work of excavation, and at last the work was so far 
 completed that a portion of the water and floating debris was 
 turned aside into the new channel. 
 
 The rains, too, had now ceased, and as the waters sub- 
 sided the extent of the damage done could be positively de- 
 termined. 
 
 In places, banks of sand and gravel many feet deep ex- 
 tended across fields regarded by their owners as the most 
 valuable in their possession. In other places the channel of
 
 156 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 the little stream had been entirely choked up, and a new one 
 cut by the waters through pastures and grain lands, and in 
 yet others, where little of the coarser debris had been de- 
 posited, the long standing of the water had greatly injured 
 vineyards and orchards, the vines and tree trunks being 
 thickly coated with the fine clay which the water had held in 
 solution. 
 
 On the whole the damage was less than many had feared, 
 and with the expectation of preventing any further injury by 
 the erection of the dam, hope revived in the breasts of all, 
 and they began repairing as fast as possible the injury already 
 done, and the cultivation of their vineyards and fields for the 
 coming crop. 
 
 The Parsons ranch had suffered with the rest, but not 
 more than many others. A hundred grape vines standing 
 upon ground near the creek, were killed or badly injured. 
 Several banks of gravel, mingled with larger stones, extended 
 across some of the most fertile fields, the total injury amount- 
 ing to a thousand dollars or more, in prospective, but not 
 seriously affecting the immediate income of the family occu- 
 pying the white cottage under the bluff, around whose open 
 porch still clambered rose bushes heavy with their weight of 
 yellow, and red, and crimson blooms. 
 
 As soon as possible after Johnny had been brought home 
 from the shanty in the hills where he lay so many weeks, 
 Jennie and Lucy had returned to school in San Francisco, 
 Mrs. Parsons being now more than ever determined that 
 they should not fail to obtain an education. 
 
 "If we leave them nothing else, John, let us at least give 
 them an education," she had said to her husband, and he had 
 made no objections, though the house seemed doubly lonely 
 without them. 
 
 To help Mrs. Parsons with the lighter work they secured
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 157 
 
 the assistance of a young girl whose parents had moved into 
 the neighborhood but the year before, and who, having but 
 little to begin on, were not unwilling that their daughter 
 should find a home where she would be kindly treated and 
 paid for washing the dishes and such other chores as her age 
 and experience fitted her for. 
 
 As they had missed a portion of one term the girls did 
 not go home for the short spring vacation, but remained in 
 the city and studied, in order to keep up with their classes; 
 and when they did return in midsummer Lucy was engaged 
 to be married to James Annelsey. 
 
 " The wedding was not to take place for at least a year 
 yet," she told her mother in announcing the engagement. 
 
 Mr. Annelsey had desired an immediate union, but to 
 this she had interposed a decided negative, and he had at 
 last consented that she should remain at school a year longer, 
 when they were to be married and he would take her to New 
 York to reside. 
 
 This was not wholly unexpected by the family. They 
 knew that Mr. Annelsey had followed the young ladies to 
 San Francisco, and that he had been a frequent caller upon 
 them while there. Jennie had even intimated in one of her 
 letters to her mother that she thought Lucy and he would be 
 married some day. 
 
 She said less of Ensign, who was almost as frequent a 
 visitor as Annelsey. 
 
 In fact the two young men had made up their slight dif- 
 ferences and frequently called upon the girls in company, or 
 together arranged with them for attending upon places of 
 amusement; and if Jennie had chosen she could have in- 
 formed her mother of probabilities of another marriage, almost 
 as certain of taking place as was that of Lucy to Mr. An- 
 nelsey.
 
 158 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Jennie, however, was not formally engaged to Mr. Ensign. 
 
 He had his own way to make in the world, and had 
 passed the age when men are apt to act hastily in such af- 
 fairs. He meant Jennie to understand that he preferred her 
 to all others, yet he did not think it well to bind her by 
 formal engagement until he had something more ahead upon 
 which they could begin life together. 
 
 Times for laboring men, and especially for skilled 
 mechanics like Ensign, were good just then, but the stand- 
 ard of living for all classes was also high, and the art of 
 saving large fortunes out of salaries of thirty dollars or forty 
 dollars a week in private life is even yet not well understood 
 except by a few railroad officials and presidents of savings 
 banks. 
 
 Mr. Annelsey, infatuated with Lucy, and having no 
 necessity for delay on account of pecuniary matters, had 
 proposed the moment he found his courage sufficient for the 
 ordeal; and she, although knowing in her heart that she" 
 loved Erastus better, yet thinking that he cared nothing for 
 her, and that her parents desired her union with Mr. Annel- 
 sey, accepted him. But when he urged an immediate mar- 
 riage, her heart failed her, and she begged for time, giving 
 as her reason a desire to remain at school another year, and 
 so fit herself the better to fill the position which she should 
 occupy as the wife of one who had the entrance of polite 
 society in the first city of the country. 
 
 In this Lucy was partially sincere. She did not greatly 
 love the man to whom she had engaged herself. As an 
 escort to places of amusement, or a companion upon days 
 of merry-making, she would perhaps have chosen him in 
 preference to any gentleman of her acquaintance, and was 
 not very sorry that she had promised to be his wife. She 
 cried a little when she was first alone after having done so,
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 159 
 
 and even told herself that she was doing it to save her 
 father and the rest of the family from poverty, and because 
 her heart was broken at Erastus's desertion of her for Julia 
 Ennis; but when she had cried her cry out, she did not 
 worry greatly about it, but began picturing to herself the life 
 she would lead when she was the wife of one who could 
 supply every want, without having to stop to consider 
 whether something else would not do as well, and be more 
 economical. 
 
 She honestly wished to fit herself as far as possible to 
 appear well in the society into which her husband would 
 take her, and intended to study harder than ever, hoping 
 thereby to accomplish it. 
 
 And so it had been agreed between them that Annelsey 
 should go at once to New York, where his presence was de- 
 sired by his parents, and that Lucy should remain in school 
 another year, when he was to return, and their marriage be 
 consummated.
 
 l6o DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEAJ 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE DISAPPOINTED LOVER. 
 
 Of course, Erastus was told of Lucy's engagement to Mr. 
 Annelsey. In fact, he learned it from Jennie in advance of 
 any other member of the family. 
 
 As they were driving home from the landing on their re- 
 turn from San Francisco and chatting of those things which 
 are of more' interest to young people, namely, other young 
 people, Jennie suddenly broke out with: 
 
 " Say, Luce, I'm going to tell Ras," and without waiting 
 for a reply or giving any heed to the blushes which flooded 
 her sister's face and neck, she rattled on with all the speed 
 which her tongue could command, " How'd you like t' have 
 Mr. Annelsey for a brother-in-law, Ras ? I know you didn't 
 used to like him very well, but you'll have to now, for Lucy 
 and he are engaged, and are going to be married when he 
 comes back from New York in about a year. There now, 
 Luce, it's out, and you won't have to be carrying the awful 
 load of having to tell it any longer." 
 
 " I think you are just as mean as you can be," retorted 
 Lucy, half angry and uncertain whether to laugh- or cry. " I 
 hadn't said a word about Mr. Ensign, who has been almost 
 as constant as your shadow ever since we met him on the 
 boat. You would be engaged to him, too you know you 
 would if it wasn't that he has got nothing to go to house- 
 keeping with. So, there now, Ras, you know all about us 
 girls, and can confess that you are going to marry Julia 
 Ennis if you want to without blushing."
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 161 
 
 But Erastus made no such confession, and instead of 
 blushing, his face became very white, and he looked straight 
 ahead and did not speak for some seconds, and then said in 
 a voice which sounded hoarse and unnatural: 
 
 " I am not going to marry Julia Ennis or anybody else." 
 
 After that little more was said for some time. 
 
 Once or twice Jennie, who felt that she was the innocent 
 cause of the sudden silence which had fallen upon them, at- 
 tempted to start the conversation again by asking questions 
 about neighbors or affairs on the ranch, but Erastus only 
 replied in the fewest words possible, and still looked straight 
 in front of him. 
 
 Jennie was half inclined to be offended at this. She 
 thought him angry because Lucy had engaged herself to a 
 nran whom he did not like. Could she have seen his face 
 she would have known that some feeling deeper than mere 
 dislike for Annelsey was at work within his breast. 
 
 As for Lucy, the assertion of Erastus, that he was not 
 going to marry Julia Ennis or anybody else, gave her a sud- 
 den start and a momentary insight into his true feelings. 
 
 Was it possible after all that he loved her ? 
 
 The thought sent all the blood rushing back upon her 
 heart, and for a moment she felt that she should suffocate. 
 Then came another thought. Perhaps Erastus had proposed 
 to Julia and been rejected. This she felt could not be un- 
 less Julia had suddenly become enamored of some new 
 admirer, for certainly she had always shown a preference 
 for Erastus over the other young men of the neighbor- 
 hood. 
 
 Still the thought clung to Lucy that such might be the 
 case, and that instead of feeling bad because of her own 
 engagement to another, his silence was caused by pain at 
 being reminded of his refusal by Julia, and her whole mood
 
 l62 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 changed, and she became as cold and hard as he himself 
 appeared. 
 
 As they neared home she began talking glibly of any- 
 thing and everything she could think of the presents they 
 had brought for each member of the family toys for Johnny, 
 a dress for mother, a neck-tie for Erastus himself, and a 
 silver tobacco-box for father all bought with money saved 
 out of that sent them for their own use; going on from this 
 to tell of their school, and of a couple of girls who came on 
 the boat with them as far as Sacramento, where their parents 
 lived; and how these girls were related to one of their own 
 neighbors, and how in answer to their inquiries, Jennie and 
 she had told them all about this neighbor ; how near they 
 were to their own home; how their ranch looked, and how 
 it had been injured by the washings from the mines. 
 
 Here she came to a sudden stop. 
 
 She had unintentionally run upon that which they were 
 all trying to avoid the mention of, and there came to her not 
 only a knowledge of her blunder, but an entirely new feeling 
 a feeling that she was somehow responsible for the losses 
 and sufferings of this family and of every other family in the 
 valley whose homes were endangered by the operations of 
 the hydraulic mining companies at Gravel Hill. 
 
 At least she had arrayed herself on the side of the com- 
 panies; was engaged to be married to one who was interested 
 in the continuance of the work which was certain to bring 
 more loss and suffering to these people. 
 
 She was no longer of them or with them; for from the 
 moment she became the wife of James Annelsey her interests 
 would be opposed to those of everyone she had known since 
 they settled in the valley. 
 
 Even her father and mother, and Erastus, must feel that 
 she had deliberately chosen to desert them in the hour of
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 163 
 
 their greatest loss, and had gone over to their enemies in 
 order to save herself from sharing in the hardships which 
 might be coming upon them. 
 
 All this passed through her mind in an instant, and she 
 sank down in her seat with a feeling of shame, and a hatred 
 of herself which made it impossible to say a word more. 
 
 " No wonder Erastus is silent," she thought. " He can- 
 not bear even to speak to one who seems so utterly selfish. 
 Oh! why did I never think of it in that light before? It is 
 that which has made him so cold to me ever since Mr. An- 
 nelsey first came. He has thought all the time that I was 
 trying to save myself from any suffering that may come upon 
 the rest of them. Oh, if I could only die!" 
 
 By this time, however, Erastus had partially recovered 
 from the blow which had fallen so suddenly, if not unexpect- 
 edly, and was able to take up the thread of conversation 
 where Lucy had dropped it; and Jennie, anxious not to reach 
 home in such a frozen silence as to attract the notice of their 
 mother, also chimed in, thus giving her sister time to rally 
 again; and when they stopped in front of the cottage and Mr. 
 and Mrs. Parsons, the former carrying Johnny in his arms, 
 came out to welcome them, they thought they had never seen 
 their daughters in a gayer mood, and attributed it to joy at 
 being home again after such a long absence. 
 
 When Mrs. Parsons told her husband of Lucy's engage- 
 ment he remained silent for a time, and then said: 
 
 " I s'pose it's natural, Marty, an' what's natural is giner- 
 ally right, but someway I'm afeard Lucy will be sorry fer it 
 some day. 
 
 "I ain't got nothin* in particular agin the young man, 
 but I'd a heap ruther she'd a married Rastus, an' I feel cer- 
 tain he'd a asked her ef Mr. Annelsey hadn't got in his way 
 and he seen that Lucy kind o' took to him; though I never
 
 164 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 could make out that she loved him so very much while he 
 was a comin' here to see her. 
 
 " Maylje it's all right as it is," he continued, after a mo- 
 ment's pause. "At least she won't want fer somethin' to eat 
 or to wear. An' maybe it don't make any odds how it's got, 
 only so you get it. 
 
 "I used ter think," he went on, "that nobody couldn't go 
 to heaven that took what they hadn't earned, but I d'know. 
 Maybe there ain't no heaven, 'er no hell; an' no right and no 
 wrong, that we're just put here like the wild beasts to fight 
 fer what we git, and that them that can git the most is the 
 best fellers. 
 
 " If a man or a child is hungry and takes a loaf of bread, 
 they send him to jail, because that's a vi'lation of the law; 
 but ef he has money to start on an' bribes congris to pass a 
 law so he kin rob a lot of poor folks of everything they have, 
 as fast as they can get anything together, why, they're makin' 
 money because they've got more talents than other fellers 
 have; and everybody is entitled to all they can make in this 
 country! 
 
 " I don't believe Christ ever taught any sich doctrine es 
 that, but there is them as pertends to be His followers and 
 to speak for Him as is always cuddlin' to the rich, a knowin' 
 too, that no man can get a million of dollars without gettin' 
 some that belongs to other folks. 
 
 "Wall, Annelsey's rich, an' Lucy'll be his wife an' dress 
 in silks an' satin, and I hope she'll be happy. Maybe when 
 we're dead an' gone he'll let her take care of Johnny, ef the 
 boy outlives us. There ought to be some good come out of 
 so much sufferin', an' maybe that'll be the way it'll come. 
 
 "I wouldn't take a cent of it myself ef I was a-dyin' of 
 hunger, but ef some time Johnny should need their help it 
 won't be a gift exactly, for the company that's a puttin' dol-
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 165 
 
 lars into Annelsey's pocket is a takin' 'em out of ourn, an' 
 though they ain't the same dollars exactly, it amounts to the 
 same thing it's a robbin' of us to get rich themselves." 
 
 A few days after this Erastus informed Mr. Parsons, and, 
 later in the day, the other members of the family, that when 
 the hurry of the season was over he intended to leave them 
 and strike out for himself. 
 
 He hoped they would not feel that he was deserting them, 
 for he would never do that; but he was now two years past 
 his majority, and ought to begin for himself, and a number 
 of young men of his acquaintance were going down to the 
 Mussle Slough country to take up land, and he had decided 
 to go with them. 
 
 This decision of Erastus was the cause of much regret 
 on the part of John and Martha Parsons. They loved him 
 as their own son, and had hoped and planned that when he 
 should start for himself it should be in the immediate neigh- 
 borhood of their own home, if, indeed, he did not marry one 
 of the girls and remain always with them. 
 
 They readily conceded his right to go, however, and as 
 there was now little prospect that they would soon be able 
 to buy him a place they did not wonder that he wished to 
 leave them and start a home of his own. 
 
 Perhaps they divined something of his feelings for Lucy; 
 at least they realized that they could offer no objections to 
 his going which would not appear purely selfish. 
 
 At first they insisted that he take the few hundred dollars 
 remaining in bank, and a pair of horses and a wagon. 
 
 The money he positively refused to touch, except a few 
 dollars necessary to enable him to make the journey to the 
 Slough, although both the girls joined their parents in beg- 
 ging him to do so, and declared they would remain home 
 from school, or even teach school, rather than permit him
 
 l66 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 who had done so much to aid in accumulating what they 
 possessed, to leave without anything. 
 
 Finally it was agreed that he should take a pair of three- 
 year-old colts and one of the wagons, together with pro- 
 visions and money sufficient to last him until he could reach 
 his destination, look about him a little and decide just what 
 he would do. 
 
 During the time intervening before the day set for his 
 departure he worked even harder than usual, that he might 
 leave the fall work in good shape, and so relieve Mr. Parsons 
 as much as possible. The colts, too, were harnessed every 
 day and made to do some light work that they might be 
 hardened a little before starting upon the journey, which, 
 although not such a very long one, would yet be a hard one 
 on animals of their age. 
 
 It was a very sad household, that of John and Martha 
 Parsons, during these few weeks of work and preparation; 
 perhaps the saddest that had ever gathered about their 
 board. 
 
 When Johnny was brought home crippled for life, and 
 when it was thought that their home was to be destroyed by 
 the overflow, very dark indeed had seemed the days, espe- 
 cially to the parents ; but always a hope that the home 
 might be saved, and the thought that even if worst came to 
 worst the family could be kept together, had enabled the 
 mother to keep up a cheerful appearance. And young hearts 
 are ever buoyant ; so long as they have no very grave sor- 
 rows of their own, the sorrows of others, even those they 
 love best, cannot prevent the occasional overflow of youth- 
 ful spirits in merry laughter, and the young folks of the 
 Parsons household had always expected that in some way 
 the clouds that overshadowed them for a time would be 
 lifted, and that the warm sun of love and prosperity would
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 167 
 
 be found to have a permanent abiding place in their firma- 
 ment. 
 
 But now all knew to a certainty that the family circle was 
 to be broken, and broken somewhat rudely. 
 
 To Lucy there constantly came the thought that Erastus 
 was going because of his love for her, although he made no 
 sign and she could only surmise. 
 
 She realized, too, more and more, how dearly she loved 
 him, and that a union with Mr. Annelsey, separating her as 
 it would do from all she held most dear, would not bring her 
 happiness. She saw now that her lover had no influence 
 which could be used to aid the settlers in obtaining justice 
 from the mining company, and that, even if he should be 
 generous enough to give direct personal assistance to her 
 own family, which somehow she doubted, her father was far 
 too proud to accept it. 
 
 Then the thought which had come to her during the 
 ride home from the Landing, when the announcement of her 
 engagement had been made, that her family must think her 
 selfishly seeking an alliance with one who was connected 
 with the cause of their misfortunes, returned to her again 
 and again, producing a feeling that she was excluded from 
 their innermost thoughts and affections, which could not but 
 affect her actions, however much she might struggle against 
 it, and which, re-acting upon the others, very nearly produced 
 the feeling she deplored. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons felt that her flock of younglings were about 
 to take wing; that the children for whom she had labored 
 and planned and lived, were to go from her, in all probability 
 never to be reunited again on earth. Not only Erastus, but 
 Lucy, and then Jennie, would soon seek homes for them- 
 selves, and that, too, far away from their parents, who were 
 to be left alone and lonely in their old age.
 
 l68 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 No, not quite alone. Johnny would never leave them; 
 no matter what else might happen, the bird with the broken 
 wing would not leave the home nest. 
 
 But what if the nest should be destroyed, and the crip- 
 pled bird be left to suffer from lack of food and shelter ? 
 
 She and John were getting old now. She had never rec- 
 ognized this as a fact before, but now she felt that it was 
 true. Supposing that the ranch should be destroyed, and 
 they in their old age, and with a helpless child, be turned out 
 to begin again ? 
 
 Suppose but no, she would not think of it. The Lord 
 would provide. They had been through many trials and 
 their sufferings had not been more than they could bear, and 
 she must not permit herself to be gloomy and so add to the 
 sufferings of the others. 
 
 She went about her work with a cheerful air ; putting 
 Erastus's clothing in the best possible repair; made him new 
 shirts and under-clothes, and did many little things be- 
 sides, which she thought might add to his comfort when he 
 should be far from her, with none to do these little favors 
 for him. 
 
 As for John Parsons, he was simply passive. 
 
 The gleam of sunshine which had come to him when 
 hope revived with the beginning of the work on the dam had 
 died out, and he saw nothing bright in the gloom which en- 
 veloped him. 
 
 He went around in a quiet kind of way, saying little, but 
 striving to add what he could to the physical comfort of 
 each member of his family, but neither suggesting nor op- 
 posing anything. 
 
 And now the morning of the day on which Erastus was 
 to leave them had arrived.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 
 
 169 
 
 The wagon which he was to take had been loaded the 
 day before. There was a bed and bedding, his trunk con- 
 taining his personal effects, and a box into which Mrs. Par- 
 sons and the girls had managed, unknown to him, to put sev- 
 eral little articles of comfort or luxury as a pleasant surprise 
 and reminder of them when he should unpack it at the end of 
 his journey. 
 
 There was also a plow and a few other agricultural and 
 mechanical implements, several sacks of grain for the colts, 
 and provisions sufficient to last a little time after he should 
 reach his destination. 
 
 Silently he took the hand of the man who had been the 
 only father he had ever known. With all his might he strove 
 to say good-bye, but could not master his voice, and he 
 dropped the hand, kissed each of 
 the women in turn, and without a 
 word sprang upon the wagon and 
 drove away out of their sight. 
 
 As the family turned to enter the 
 house, old Bose, who had appeared 
 not exactly to understand the cause 
 of all he had seen, looked inquiringly 
 up into their faces and then away in 
 the direction in which the wagon 
 had disappeared, as if to ask if this 
 was anything more than the usual 
 daily trip to town. 
 
 Apparently convinced by the 
 sorrowful looks of all, that some- 
 thing grave had occurred, he lifted 
 his nose in the air and gave a long, low, mournful howl, 
 and lay down with his head upon his outstretched paws, 
 and continued to look down the road. 
 
 V
 
 170 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 He never returned to his old place upon the kitchen 
 porch, but always, until he died, was to be found near 
 the same spot in the front yard, with his head turned in one 
 direction, and if not sleeping, with his old eyes fixed upon 
 the point in the road where a wagon coming over the hill 
 would first be visible. Occasionally if hungry, he would go 
 to the kitchen for food, but usually it was carried to him, and 
 one morning when they went to feed him, they found him 
 dead, his head upon his outstretched paws, as if still looking 
 down the road.
 
 OR, JUST A c AMPIN'. 171 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 DESOLATION. 
 
 Erastus was six days in making the journey to Mussle 
 Slough, and a desolate looking country he found it. 
 
 For miles and miles, at this season of the year, not a 
 green thing appeared upon which to fasten the smallest 
 hope of ever changing the waste into fertile fields of grass 
 and grain. 
 
 The settlers already there seemed upon the verge of 
 starvation. But three or four inches of rain fell during the 
 entire year, and for months at a time the soil was unmoist- 
 ened even by dew. Those who possessed a little money 
 when they came, had expended it in futile efforts to pro- 
 duce a crop, and all were now dependent for the means of 
 subsistence upon small patches of ground near the lake, dis- 
 tant in many instances from four to seven miles from their 
 claims. 
 
 Even these patches had to be constantly guarded from 
 droves of ravenous and half wild cattle belonging to the 
 herdsmen who gave them little attention, and who were illy 
 disposed toward any attempts at inclosing or cultivating the 
 land which, although seemingly little better than a desert, at 
 certain periods of the year produced a thin growth of wild 
 alfalfa upon which their stock fed, being in the main driven 
 to better pastures as the dry season advanced. 
 
 These patches of ground were made fertile by their 
 nearness to Lake Tulare, and by being but little above the 
 level of its waters.
 
 172 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Veritable oases in the desert these spots seemed, and 
 upon them the settlers raised the few bushels of corn and 
 beans and vegetables which formed their sole means of sub- 
 sistence while prosecuting the work of redeeming their 
 claims by the herculean task of digging an irrigating ditch 
 upwards of twenty miles long, by means of which they were 
 to obtain water from the river above them, and convert the 
 desert into a garden. 
 
 But if these oases furnished garden spots for the settlers 
 they were also desired by the herdsmen, for a few of whose 
 cattle they supplied pasturage the year round, and being 
 without the means of fencing them in, the protection of 
 their little crops meant a constant watch upon the cattle, 
 and one which consumed the entire time of some member 
 of each family. 
 
 Owing to the lack of feed, but few were able to keep 
 teams, and that they continued the unequal contest for their 
 homes can only be understood when it is known that of all 
 the rich farming lands of the State, not an acre remained for 
 pre-emption or purchase except at second-hand, and as a 
 rule, in large bodies, being held by corporations or indi- 
 viduals who claimed it under pretended grants from Spain or 
 Mexico, given before California was ceded to the United 
 States, or by act of Congress since that time. So that this 
 barren, sandy plain offered the only hope for poor men in 
 California of obtaining a portion of the inheritance of the 
 race. 
 
 Besides, they had confidence that, once irrigated, it 
 would produce abundantly, and well repay all their labors 
 by future yields of fruit and grain. 
 
 All efforts to induce men with capital to invest in the en- 
 terprise of cutting the ditch, and depending upon the sale 
 of water privileges for reimbursements, had failed, the
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . 173 
 
 idea that any amount of water could render the sand of 
 the plains fertile being scouted as visionary, the land being 
 judged not worth paying taxes upon, and the settlers had 
 undertaken the task themselves, all unaided, and had been 
 two years at work on the main ditch when Erastus Hem- 
 mingway arrived in the community. 
 
 So dreary and forbidding was the outlook that he felt 
 tempted to leave again immediately, but knowing that no 
 land remained open for pre-emption elsewhere in the State, 
 at last decided to stay and cast his lot with those who were 
 so manfully struggling to overcome the difficulties by which 
 they were surrounded. 
 
 Guided in part by the advice of such acquaintances as 
 he had made since his arrival, he located a claim of one 
 hundred and sixty acres, and made arrangements to live 
 for a time in the family of a settler who was on a claim 
 adjoining his own, agreeing to pay a small sum weekly for 
 such food and accommodations as they could offer. 
 
 Of the half dozen men who accompanied Erastus to the 
 Slough, not one had the hardihood to remain. All were too 
 much discouraged by the outlook, and either returned to the 
 old neighborhood or sought places for rent in other portions 
 of the country. 
 
 When he had staked out his claim, Erastus hitched up 
 and drove across the country until he found pasturage, and 
 a rancher who was willing to let the colts run with his own 
 stock until such time as the light rains, which might be ex- 
 pected to fall a few months later, should revive the seem- 
 ingly dead grass of the Mussle Slough country. He then 
 returned to the Slough on foot, and went to work with his 
 fellow settlers upon the ditch, which was their only hope. 
 
 For weeks and months he worked in company with these 
 men, many of whom had worked through all the weeks and
 
 174 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 months of the two previous years; ill-fed often without 
 bread of any kind for long periods at a time, sleeping upon 
 the ground almost as frequently as in a bed, working at night 
 as well as by day, their families camping in wretched little 
 huts at the lake watching the patches of vegetables and 
 corn upon which their very existence depended. 
 
 When the rain came and vegetation started up, the colts 
 were brought down from their pasture and made to do a 
 portion of labor on the ditch; their young master taking the 
 best care of them possible under the circumstances. 
 
 He had written home soon after positively deciding to 
 locate at the Slough, but had refrained from giving a very 
 accurate description of the country or of his prospects, not 
 wishing to excite any anxiety in the minds of his friends 
 regarding his welfare. In reply he had received letters from 
 the family telling him of affairs in the old neighborhood. 
 Then for some weeks he was silent, not feeling that he had 
 anything cheerful to communicate, and dreading, yet long- 
 ing, to hear further regarding the engagement between Lucy 
 and Mr. Annelsey. 
 
 Meantime the dam which was to save the Parsons settle- 
 ment from the overflow had been completed, but scarcely was 
 the work accomplished before it became evident that it would 
 not long stay the mass of slickings which was coming down 
 in such immense quantities from the mines above as to have 
 filled the gulch itself a hundred feet deep for ten miles below 
 Gravel Hill, and in spite of the fact that large quantities of 
 it were turned aside into the new channel cut for it above the 
 dam, it was slowly but surely filling the whole gorge and 
 would soon rise above that structure, even if it did not sweep 
 it away. 
 
 Another meeting of the settlers was called, at which it 
 was resolved to apply to the courts for a perpetual injunction
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 175 
 
 restraining the companies from emptying their slickings into 
 the gorge. 
 
 The services of a prominent attorney of San Francisco 
 were secured and application for the injunction made. 
 
 But there were delays. 
 
 The attorneys for the mining companies asked for time in 
 which to produce evidence to show why the injunction should 
 not issue, and although the settlers pleaded the absolute ne- 
 cessity to them of immediate action, the time asked was given 
 and even twice extended. 
 
 Then some technicality in the law or the papers in the 
 case was discovered, and still further time consumed. 
 
 By this time the fall rains had commenced, and a few 
 days later the gorge above the dam was full, not of water 
 alone, but of earth and stones, which, pressing against that 
 hastily built structure, swept it away and went pouring over 
 the valley and farm lands below. 
 
 The bed of the creek was at once filled with sand and 
 gravel. Brush and timbers from the broken dam, together 
 with whole trees washed down by the operations at the mines, 
 were swept along with the current and finding lodgment, 
 formed a barrier which in turn banked up the water and 
 earth behind it, until over whole farms the worthless soil 
 from the mountains rose to a depth of ten and twelve feet, 
 burying orchards and vineyards, and even some small build- 
 ings beneath the accumulated mass * 
 
 * "At Rose's Bar, where I am told Judge Field at one time practiced law, and 
 where there was once a considerable town, its site is now sixty feet under the mining 
 tailings." ***** " In the Gold Run case the defendant proved by a Mr. 
 Fairchild that the breaking of a dam at the head of Pilot Creek, in El Dorado County, 
 one of the tributaries of the South Fork, washed out of Pilot Creek in a jiffy, and into 
 the south fork of the American River, 2,639,000 yards of earth and rock, including the 
 great trees which the wave of water tore up by the roots in its downward course." 
 * * * * ti -phe ex (; en t to which the de"bris comes down is illustrated by the fact
 
 176 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Such was the fate of the Parsons ranch. 
 
 Powerless to stay its course, John and Martha Parsons 
 saw the flood of death rise about them. Saw first their 
 lower fields flooded and made valueless. Then saw the flood 
 rise about the grape-vines until they were buried from sight, 
 and the mass of earth and water, rising more slowly now, 
 reached the orchard and the higher ground upon which stood 
 the cottage with its outlying farm buildings. 
 
 Day by day they watched the horrible mass close in about 
 them. 
 
 Now the topmost limbs of the peach trees alone appeared 
 in sight, and then disappeared entirely. 
 
 At night the garden fence had been reached; in the morn- 
 ing it was a foot deep within the enclosure, and was rapidly 
 approaching the door yard from three sides. 
 
 Now it reaches the front gate, creeps through the latticed 
 fence and up the gravel walk. One by one the flower-beds 
 disappear, swallowed up by the horrible anaconda that is 
 winding its folds about the doomed cottage, whose inmates 
 watch its approach in helpless agony, knowing that no human 
 power can prevent the total destruction of all that years of 
 toil and economy has enabled them to accumulate. 
 
 What is to be done ? 
 
 Already a dozen of the neighbors have been driven from 
 their houses and are domiciled in those more remote from 
 the scene of the overflow, or are camping out upon the hills 
 overlooking their desolate homes. 
 
 A few more days and the ocean of mud and water will 
 enter their own cottage; where shall they seek for refuge? 
 
 that the Parks Dam across the Yuba, 12,460 feet long and over six feet in height, was 
 filled full during three days and nights of the freshet of 1881." 
 
 Address of Geo. Cadivalader in the case of Edwards W'oodruff vs. the North 
 Bloomfield Gravel Mining Ca., et al., tried in the Circuit Court of the United 
 States, District of California, Dec, 22, 1882.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 177 
 
 There is no one in the cottage now but John and Martha 
 Parsons and the crippled boy; the young girl who was with 
 them for a time having returned to her own home, and Jen- 
 nie and Lucy being still in San Francisco. 
 
 Evidently the girls could not long remain at school now, 
 for their parents had no longer any means of paying their 
 expenses. Every dollar of the income of the past year had 
 been expended in paying for work upon the dam and in the 
 effort to obtain the injunction, and but fifty dollars remained 
 in bank of that once laid aside to aid Erastus, now upon his 
 own claim at the Slough. 
 
 " The girls must come home," Mrs. Parsons had said 
 when word came that the dam had broken and all was lost. 
 
 " We must send for them, father. If we are to lose 
 everything we cannot pay their expenses in the city any 
 longer, and if you will take it to the office I will write a letter 
 at once, telling them to come by the first boat." 
 
 But her husband pointed to the lake of mud and water, 
 already six or eight feet deep, over the road across the creek 
 bottom. 
 
 " We can't git to the Landing," he said. "A horse would 
 mire in that stuff 'fore he got half way to the bridge." 
 
 " Then we must go to the landing above. Can't you get 
 some of the neighbors to go for you ? Mr. Ritchie's Henry 
 will go, I think. You know they are not in as much danger 
 yet as we are." 
 
 "I kin git some one to go I s'pect, Marty," replied her 
 husband; "I kin git some one to go, I reckon, but there ain't 
 no home fer the girls to come to; er ther won't be by the 
 time they 'ud git the letter and git here." 
 
 "Oh, John! John! is it possible that we have lost every- 
 thing!" sobbed Mrs. Parsons, dropping into a chair and 
 burying her face in her apron.
 
 178 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 John Parsons made no reply, and after a few moments 
 his wife checked her sobs and raising her head asked: 
 
 " Is there no way ? Cannot the dam be rebuilt and made 
 strong enough and high enough to stop this awful destruc- 
 tion of the homes of honest people ?" 
 
 " I reckon we've did everything that kin be done," he 
 returned, "except it is to push for the injunction on the com- 
 panies, and that ain't any use now that the damage is done; 
 and as fer the dam, why the hull gulch is chock full o' slick- 
 ens and stuff, and there ain't no possible chance of doin' 
 anything. 
 
 " No, wife," he added in a hopeless tone of voice, "there 
 can't nothin' be done. We're driv out agin by them as cares 
 nothin' for others, or who think that nothin' is wrong that 
 the law can't punish 'em for,* and we have got to work hard 
 in our old age and maybe die in a poor-house at the end. 
 If it wasn't for you and Johnny I should wish I were dead 
 a'ready, and I don't see as there is any use in my livin' any 
 longer anyway, for I can't seem to pertect them as is 
 dependent on me, though the Lord knows I've tried to 
 do it." 
 
 Mrs. Parsons arose and came and put her arms around 
 his neck and laid her head upon his shoulder. 
 
 " You have done all you could, John, and all anybody 
 could have done," she said, "and you must not feel so, dear. 
 It is better for us a thousand times to lose the place and 
 everything on it than to lose you." And then seeing the 
 
 * It may seem incredible that mining corporations should be allowed to thus destroy 
 homes that had been made long before they took up their claims and began their work. 
 But until within the last year (1883) the courts afforded no relief. A recent decision 
 has granted a perpetual injunction against the mining companies, and unless the influ- 
 ence of the heavy capitalists who are interested can procure a reversal of the decision 
 it is now hoped that a stop has been put to such scenes as that described in this chap- 
 ter. But only the future can determine the influence that money can exert upon the 
 courts. We shall sCe.
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . 179 
 
 tears start in his eyes she added: "Don't cry, dear. We 
 have each other yet, and the children, and will manage some 
 way. The girls will probably marry soon, so that they will 
 not suffer greatly by the loss of the ranch, and we shall then 
 have only ourselves and Johnny to provide for, and if we 
 live to be too old to work I am sure the children will be glad 
 to have us live with them." 
 
 " Maybe, maybe," returned her husband. " I hope so, 
 for your sake and Johnny's, but I want to die before I be- 
 come a burden on any one. Ef Lucy and Erastus, now, had 
 a' married and could have had the place all right, I shouldn't 
 ever have thought of bein' a burden on them, 'cause they're 
 both our own children like; but now we have no place for 
 ourselves, let alone givin' it to them, and Lucy has took a 
 notion to marry one of the chaps as is responsible fer our 
 ruin, and I'm thinkin' he wouldn't be overly proud of the 
 old folks ef they was to ask for a place by his fireside in the 
 big house they's agoin' to hev in New York. At any rate 
 I'll never ask it. I'd rather starve. 
 
 " The young folks had best git married, though, ef they're 
 goin' to; both of 'em. I've no fear fer Jennie an' Ensign. 
 They'll git on all right, as far as they let folks git on that 
 works for a livin', and if Lucy loves Mr. Annelsey I s'pose 
 that's all right too, and she had better write fer him to come 
 and get her at once ef he don't want her to get tanned up 
 with campin' out in the foot-hills." 
 
 Mrs. Parsons thought the whole situation over and over, 
 again and again. 
 
 All night she lay awake thinking of their changed cir- 
 cumstances and of her husband's words, and in the morning 
 she did substantially what he had suggested she wrote her 
 daughters, telling them the ranch was flooded and destroyed, 
 that the cottage itself would be untenable before many days,
 
 l8o DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 but forbidding them to return home until they heard further 
 from their parents. 
 
 " Your father and I do not yet know what we shall do," 
 she wrote. " There seems no place for us to go to. Some 
 of the neighbors, whose houses. are on higher ground than 
 ours, have offered to let us stay with them until we can find 
 a place to rent, but we cannot long be a tax on the hospital- 
 ity of those who have themselves lost everything except the 
 shelter over their heads, and who must, like us, soon seek 
 other homes. 
 
 " We are talking of going down into the great valley and 
 renting a place of some of the big landlords, but it is very 
 hard to think of working all the rest of our lives without 
 hope of ever having a place of our own again, and if we can 
 find a little place anywhere that is for sale, if it is only a few 
 acres with nothing but a shanty on it, we had both rather 
 buy it than to rent, even if we go in debt for it; but we do 
 not know of any such that is safe from the overflow of these 
 terrible mines. 
 
 "You must not worry about it too much, dears; and you 
 must not come home until you hear from us again, which will 
 not be long, for we must do something, and that quickly. 
 
 "You could not help much if you were here until we know 
 what we are to do, and would probably be more expense 
 here than there, and we will write you again just as soon as 
 we determine where we shall go." 
 
 Then she added in a postscript: 
 
 " You know how much your father and I love you, and how 
 anxious we are to have you always with us; but this we know 
 cannot be, and if the men whom you are to marry urge you 
 to a speedy union you have our consent, and it may be 
 best so." 
 
 This letter John Parsons mailed at Phippsburg, a little
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 181 
 
 town on the river ten miles above the Landing where they 
 usually did their trading. 
 
 When Johnny saw his father preparing to start he began 
 to cry pitedusly, and begged him not to leave them to be 
 swallowed up by the terrible flood. 
 
 The poor child was not only nervous, but actually fright- 
 ened. He had sat propped up in his little wheeled cot at the 
 low window and watched the slowly rising flood until it had 
 grown to seem a thing of life, a frightful monster, such as he 
 had read about in fairy stories, only a thousand times more 
 horrible, ready to swallow them all alive; and his pale face 
 grew paler still, and his eyes, large with suffering, grew larger 
 yet with fear, and he would not consent that either parent 
 should remain long out of the room, and at night went to 
 sleep holding to his father's hand only to awaken when all 
 was still with screams of fright at the things which he saw 
 in his dreams. 
 
 Then John Parsons would arise and sit by his side and 
 talk to him, and tell him stories, and soothe him until his sobs 
 ceased and gradually he dropped off to sleep again, only to 
 see once more the horrid shapes that peopled his sleeping 
 fancy, and awake in an agony of fear and trembling. 
 
 And now he begged and cried until his parents feared he 
 would go into convulsions at his father's leaving, but there 
 seemed no other way, for they knew that the neighbors were 
 either busy trying to save something from the general wreck, 
 or absent looking for some place to move to. People who 
 are so foolish as to build their houses where wealthy corpo- 
 rations may wish to empty the garbage from their back yards 
 cannot humor the fancies of their crippled children. They 
 are like the birds that build their nests upon the ground 
 where the farmer desires to sow his grain whose nests are 
 turned under by the plowshare with never a thought of the
 
 1 82 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 loss to the little bunch of brown feathers that cries so pite- 
 ously and flutters about the spot where its little ones lie buried 
 beneath the sod. 
 
 It was early in the morning when John Parsons started 
 with the letter. He knew that he would be forced to follow 
 a somewhat devious route in order to avoid the overflowed 
 district, but he was on horseback and expected to make the 
 canter of ten miles and back by noon at farthest, and so told 
 his wife and Johnny. 
 
 But noon came and no father. Then one o'clock, and 
 still he had not come. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons kept the dinner warm and waited. She had 
 spent the morning in packing, as best she could, their house- 
 hold goods in shape for moving, at the same time amusing 
 Johnny with talks of the new place to which they would go. 
 
 She did not know where it would be, yet tried, for the 
 lad's sake, to picture it as pleasant as possible, and so half 
 made herself believe that they might not fail in getting an- 
 other home and being happy once more, and now while she 
 waited she continued the preparations for moving; but as the 
 hours passed and her husband was still absent, she became 
 uneasy and fancied all kinds of evils that might have befallen 
 him. 
 
 Had he attempted to cross some place in the road that 
 was covered by the overflow, and miring down been unable 
 to extricate himself ? 
 
 The thought was horrible, and her brain reeled beneath it. 
 
 Then she told herself that it could not be; that instead 
 he had been forced to go further around than he had antici- 
 pated, and so more time was consumed. 
 
 Then again, she feared that his horse had taken fright 
 and thrown him, and she pictured him lying by the roadside 
 dead, or with broken limbs, calling in vain for help, or car-
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 183 
 
 ried to a friendly shanty as he had carried Johnny when the 
 accident which made him a cripple occurred. 
 
 " They say it never rains but it pours," she said to her- 
 self. " Can it be possible that to all our other troubles is to 
 be added an injury to John ?" 
 
 She could not bear to think of it, and put the thought 
 from her, and tried to keep from dwelling on it by talking to 
 Johnny as he lay in his cot watching her pack the boxes and 
 trunks with clothing and the various knick-knacks about the 
 house. 
 
 Then a more hopeful thought came. 
 
 " Maybe father had heard of a place that he can get, and 
 has gone to look at it," she said to Johnny, and the thought 
 gave her fresh courage. But as the day passed and night 
 settled down upon the scene and still he did not come, hope 
 turned to fear and she grew sick at heart. 
 
 She attended to the out-door chores when she saw it 
 getting late; fed the pigs and the chickens and milked the 
 cows, and then went in the gathering darkness and noted 
 the rise in the slow creeping flood, and estimated that in two 
 days more it would enter the cottage. 
 
 Then she returned to the house, lighted a lamp, and sat 
 down by the cot of her crippled child, too utterly exhausted 
 and broken in spirit to talk. 
 
 The boy seemed to understand, for he said nothing; did 
 not cry nor moan, but lay with his large eyes fixed upon his 
 mother's face with a look of wondering, helpless resignation, 
 as if he saw the approach of the horrid monster of his 
 dreams, but felt that now no cries for help could avail any- 
 thing, until, unable longer to control herself, Martha Par- 
 sons sank upon her knees and buried her face in her hand- 
 kerchief and sobbed aloud: 
 
 " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ? "
 
 'MY COD, MY GOD, WHY HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME?" 
 184
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 185 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 DRIVEN TO THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 For a half hour Martha Parsons remained kneeling by 
 the side of her crippled child. 
 
 When she arose she was calm again, but neither the boy 
 nor herself spoke, and finally sleep came and closed the 
 lad's eyelids, and he lay quietly resting while his mother sat 
 by his side as silent and motionless as he. 
 
 Her thoughts had gone back to the days of her child- 
 hood, and one by one she recalled all the incidents of her 
 past life. She remembered the old church where she had 
 been christened and near where she was born. In imagina- 
 tion she sat again in the straight- backed pew in company 
 with the homely, old-fashioned congregation, and listened to 
 the preaching of the venerable, gray-haired minister whose 
 words she had been taught were those of one commissioned 
 to speak for God and Christ. 
 
 Again she heard the sermon in which all men were com- 
 manded to accept their lot, whatever it might be, as from the 
 hand of the Most High, who gave to each of His creatures as 
 to Him seemed best, of the goods of this world; heard, 
 mingled with much of sympathy for the impoverished and 
 the outcast and the sinful, the poor bidden to be content 
 with the condition in life to which it had pleased God in His 
 wisdom to call them; and was dumbly conscious of feeling 
 surprised at herself, and, maybe, a trifle frightened at daring 
 to wonder for the first time in her life if God ever authorized 
 anybody to say such things in His name; if, indeed, it were
 
 1 86 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 not blasphemy to tell the poor, who were made poor by being 
 robbed, and the rich, who were made rich by the robbery, 
 that such was God's will, and bidding them to be content in 
 the condition in which they were thus placed. 
 
 She recalled the talks which she and John had during 
 the days of their courtship and after their marriage. What 
 plans they had laid ; how hopeful they had been of the 
 future; how prosperous they had meant to be; and how 
 much pleasure they had taken in thinking of the good they 
 would do, and of the quiet old age they were to spend to- 
 gether after the hurry of life was over and their children 
 settled comfortably near them, receiving and entitled to the 
 respect and esteem of their neighbors. 
 
 They had worked hard; they had been honest; they had 
 reared their children to be worthy members cf society; they 
 had done all they knew how to do to make the world better 
 for their having lived in it; and now, their home .lost, their 
 children scattered, she sat by the bedside of her crippled 
 child at midnight, waiting for the return of her husband, with 
 a great fear at her heart that he, too, had been swallowed up 
 by the terrible flood. 
 
 The moan which involuntarily escaped her lips as her 
 mind returned to the present, awoke Johnny; but seeing his 
 mother sitting by his side he did not cry or speak, but lay 
 quietly gazing into her face for a time and then his quick 
 hearing caught a sound which had escaped the duller ear of 
 his mother, and a look, half of inquiry, half of fear, passed 
 over his face, but still he did not speak. 
 
 Again the sound, and now his mother hears it too the 
 neighing of a horse upon the winding bluff road back of the 
 house; then an answering neigh from the hill pasture, and 
 both know that the husband and father has returned. 
 
 Hurrying to the door, Mrs. Parsons heard the pasture
 
 " OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 187 
 
 bars let down; heard the short whinny of recognition and 
 welcome which the horses exchanged as the home-comer 
 entered the field, then heard the barn door open as the rider 
 went to hang up his saddle; then the footsteps turned 
 towards the house, and a moment later John Parsons, weary 
 and covered with mud, but sound of limb, entered, and bend- 
 ing down kissed wife and child. 
 
 " I s'pose you an' Johnny hev been worried most to death 
 about me, Marty," he said, "but I couldn't very well help it; 
 leastwise I thought it best to do as I done." 
 
 " Yes, dear, we have been fearful that something had hap- 
 pened you. Did you meet with an accident, or what was the 
 matter? I know you must be tired and hungry, whatever it 
 was, and I'll have a cup of tea for you just as soon as the 
 kettle boils again. It won't take but a moment; it was boil- 
 ing only a little bit ago." 
 
 "Wall, you see when I got to town I concluded to ask 
 around an' see if I could hear of a place for rent or to sell 
 on time, an' after inquirin' a spell I heard of a claim, mostly 
 wo'thless, but with enough good land to make a livin' on, 
 that was for sale or trade, fifteen miles further back in the 
 mountains; an' as, ef I come home first I'd hev to go right 
 back agin tj-mourow, if I took a look at the place at all, I 
 concluded to go right on an' see it, hopin' to get home, though, 
 afore it was so late. But when I got back to town it was 
 almost dark already, an' neither me nor the horse had et a 
 bite since mornin', an' I was jest obleeged to stop an' let the 
 animal rest a couple of hours. That gave me a dark ride 
 home, an' the roads is purty bad over the hills since the rains 
 come. What time o' night is it ? Nigh on to midnight, I 
 reckon." 
 
 "The clock struck twelve some time since," replied Mrs. 
 Parsons. "But what about the place? Is there any house
 
 1 88 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 on it, or an orchard, or anything ? And what does the man 
 ask for it ? " 
 
 " There's a bit of a shanty on it," returned her husband, 
 " an* a few scatterin* grape vines, an' a dozen or two peach 
 and pear trees. The place is well up on the mountain an' is 
 off of the main road, an' sort o' lonesome like; leastwise, I'm 
 afeared 'twould seem so to you an' the lad. But there's a 
 chance to make a livin' there even if it ain't a very good one, 
 an' I s'pect maybe grapes will do purty well on part o' the 
 claim. It's mighty rough an' broken, though, an' won't be so 
 pleasant cultivatin' as this place used to be. 
 
 " There ain't no bottom land onto it, ner within ten miles 
 of it fer that matter. An' there ain't many neighbors, an* 
 such as there is, is poor folks, that couldn't git claims no- 
 wher's else. I talked with one of 'em, an' he said he was 
 satisfied they could raise as good fruit of most kinds as grew 
 anywhere in the state; an' anywa)^ there ain't any danger of 
 their floodin' it from any mines; it's too far up on the moun- 
 tains fer that, an' maybe the best thing we kin do is to take 
 it, 'specially as the owner, who lives in town, is willin' to take 
 a pair of horses an' purty near anything else we have to turn 
 out to him, I guess." 
 
 " Then we had better take it," replied his wife. " I had 
 rather have a place of our own, however poor, than to be de- 
 pendent upon somebody else and obliged to move every year 
 perhaps, and never feel that anything is our own, as we would 
 do on a rented place. But are you sure about the title, John ? 
 Don't for pity's sake let us buy a ranch to which there is not 
 a good title." 
 
 " That's just what I told Mr. Blake, the man that owns 
 it. I told him that if there was anything at all wrong with 
 the title I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole, but he says 
 it's all right, an' he is to get an abstract of it from the re-
 
 OR, JUST A c AMPIN'. 189 
 
 corder's office. The place has never had but two or three 
 owners, an' it's clear outside of the land grant, so if there's 
 no mortgages onto it I don't see how there can be any dan- 
 ger, an' of course the abstract will show." 
 
 " I almost wish you had told him we would take it. I'm 
 afraid somebody else will step in and get it first, there are so 
 many looking for places now. When did you tell him you 
 would give him an answer ? " 
 
 " He is to come over to-morrow and look at the things 
 we have to trade. If we kin agree, then he is to get the ab- 
 stract, an' if that is all right, it's a trade. I wish you could 
 see the place, mother, before we decide about it, but I don't 
 see how you kin, unless we take Johnny over to Ritchie's 
 and leave him while you go an' take a look at it. 
 
 "What do you say, Johnny? Will you stay at Mr. 
 Ritchie's while mother goes with me to see the new 
 place?" 
 
 " Won't the water and mud rise clear over us and bury 
 us ? " asked the boy, in his weak little voice. 
 
 " Oh, no," replied his father, " Mr. Ritchie's house is 
 higher up than ours, you know. There is not a bit of dan- 
 ger." 
 
 "Then I'll stay." 
 
 But Mrs. Parsons did not wish to go to see the place. 
 
 " It would be a hard day's ride," she said, " fifty miles 
 there and back, and we would have to go on horseback, I 
 suppose, for it must be awful slow getting along with a wagon, 
 now; and besides it would make no difference any way. If 
 you think we can make a living on it, we had best take it, for 
 we can't stay here many days longer. We have no other 
 place to go to, and it will not be easy to find places that we 
 can trade for." 
 
 And so they talked on while the tea was made and drank.
 
 190 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Then they lay down, but it was almost day before sleep came 
 to either of them. 
 
 About noon the next day Mr. Blake came as he had pro- 
 mised. 
 
 He was a man of medium size and pretty well built. He 
 had a red face and a large mouth, and appeared about fifty 
 years of age. 
 
 Certainly not a handsome man, he was yet not noticeably 
 homely. In fact, there was nothing especially noticeable 
 about him in any way. To all appearances he was an or- 
 dinary kind of man, who had doubtless mined some; been a 
 farmer back in the states, perhaps, and at some period in his 
 life had probably kept a hotel in a country town, or engaged 
 in some other occupation which had given him a little more 
 the air of a man of business, and a little less that of a day 
 laborer. 
 
 At dinner, of which he was invited to partake, he asked 
 a blessing. As they ate he commended the cooking; spoke of 
 the great loss which his host had sustained from the destruc- 
 tion of his ranch by the overflow, and condemned in strong 
 terms the outrage upon the rights of so good citizens as those 
 at whose table he sat. 
 
 Then he passed on to a description of his own ranch, 
 which he wished to sell. 
 
 It was well up in the hills, he said, but it was a fine place 
 for fruit, and was out of danger from the overflow, and all 
 it needed to make it a valuable property was the cultivation 
 and care which Mr. Parsons knew so well how to give it. 
 
 He offered it for sale cheap because he was going back 
 east, and wanted to clear everything up before he went, and 
 get what he had together. 
 
 He would prefer to sell for cash, but if he could not do 
 that, he would take a pair of horses and any other stock
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 191 
 
 they might have to turn out. And if he could not dispose 
 of them readily in the neighborhood, would drive them to 
 Sacramento, on his way to New York, and sell them there. 
 
 After dinner he went out, in company with Mr. Parsons, 
 and looked at the different animals and things which the 
 now nearly impoverished family had to offer. He readily 
 agreed to take one pair of the horses and a wagon and the 
 top carriage, also three cows. But this still left a difference 
 which he proposed should be made up by a note to be signed 
 by Mr. Parsons and a couple of his neighbors. 
 
 To this Mr. Parsons would not consent. He doubted if 
 any one would sign a note with him now, and he could not 
 bear to think of asking and being refused, and preferred 
 giving a mortgage on the place which he was to get of Mr. 
 Blake. 
 
 Finally it was agreed to pay him the fifty dollars remain- 
 ing in bank, and in addition to the other articles named, to 
 turn him out the six head of fat hogs in the pen and certain 
 articles of household furniture, the most valuable in their 
 possession, but for which there would not be room in the 
 shanty to which they were going, and so the bargain was 
 made. 
 
 The Parsons were to retain possession of all the property 
 until they had moved on to the new place; then to put the 
 goods and animals at the disposal of Mr. Blake and receive 
 the deed. 
 
 When this was all settled between them, and a memo- 
 randum of the whole matter made and carefully deposited in 
 the pocket-book of Mr. Blake, that gentleman returned the 
 pocket-book to his pocket, buttoned up his coat, and mount- 
 ing his horse, rode back to town. 
 
 When he was gone Mrs. Parsons gave a sigh of relief. 
 
 "Well, I am glad it is all fixed up," she said, "and I
 
 192 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 shall feel better still when the deed is made and we are in 
 possession. All the time he was here I was afraid that the 
 trade would fall through some way, and I cannot begin to 
 tell how anxious I am to get away from here, or how I 
 dreaded having to rent a place. I'd rather live in a hut and 
 have it my own, than in a palace that belonged to another, 
 and I am like Johnny; I begin to feel as if this awful mass 
 that is about us might raise suddenly and swallow us all in 
 a moment." 
 
 " Yes," replied her husband," it is better that we go, though 
 it's mortal hard to leave this place, which was the purtiest 
 and best in the valley. But it don't make much odds, I 
 s'pose, where one is, so they have enough to eat; and I guess 
 we can git that up there. 
 
 " I'll load up to-night, an* start to-morrow with the first 
 load. It'll take me two days to make the round trip, an' 
 hard days at that, but I'll put on all four of the hosses and 
 take all I kin pile on the wagon. Then I'll get Ritchie to 
 help with the next load an' we'll take Johnny in the carriage 
 an' make it all in two trips with somebody to drive the cows. 
 You'd better write Jennie an' Lucy, mother, an' tell 'em to 
 come to Phippsburg, so's to meet us there when we go with 
 the last load. That'll save comin' after 'em, an' they'll be 
 thar to help you fix things when we git thar." 
 
 " Poor things, what a home-coming it will be to them," 
 sighed Mrs. Parsons. 
 
 Nevertheless she wrote telling the girls what had occurred 
 and how they must take the boat on the night of the day on 
 which they would get the letter. They were to get off at 
 Phippsburg instead of the old landing and wait at the hotel 
 until their parents called for them on their way to the new 
 home up in the mountains.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 193 
 
 This letter John Parsons mailed the next day, while his 
 teams were eating and resting from the pull over the hills 
 with their load of household goods. 
 
 That night he slept in the shanty upon the place which 
 he had bought, and the following day returned to his family 
 and the doomed cottage. 
 
 With the help of a neighbor he loaded the remainder of 
 his worldly possessions upon the two wagons, the heavy one 
 and the spring fruit wagon. This neighbor was to drive one 
 team and Mr. Ritchie volunteered the use of another animal 
 to attach to the carriage in which was Mrs. Parsons, with 
 Johnny propped up among his pillows. 
 
 It was a sad leaving of the old home. 
 
 The muddy water was now entering over the front steps 
 and beginning to form pools on all the lower floors. Only 
 the topmost twigs of the apple and pear trees, which were in 
 lower ground than the house, and portions of the evergreens 
 in the front yard were above the deposit. Every other 
 green thing upon the valuable portion of the ranch had 
 disappeared entirely from sight. 
 
 Martha Parsons wept as she took a last look at the place, 
 and yet she was at heart glad to get away. 
 
 It was like a nightmare, staying there and seeing that 
 mass of mud and water rise day by day. And besides, how- 
 ever poor their new home might be, it was henceforth the 
 only one they were to know, and she was anxious to get into 
 it and begin the work of improvement. 
 
 As for John Parsons, he looked neither to the right nor 
 to the left. He did not even turn his head for a last look 
 at the old place as he rounded the hill that shut it from 
 their view. 
 
 Pride and ambition were well nigh dead within him, and 
 
 13
 
 194 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 he hoped for nothihg beyond a bare existence for the rest of 
 his life. 
 
 He would come back, he thought, when the roads got 
 good again, and if the buildings were not burned down, 
 would tear off some of the boards from such portions as 
 were not buried by the overflow, and use them to help patch 
 up with, on the new ranch. Beyond that the place was abso- 
 lutely worthless, and probably some tramping miner would 
 carelessly set fire to the buildings after having camped in 
 them over night. 
 
 The fleeing family had perhaps placed a distance of 
 three miles between themselves and their ruined home when 
 from the other direction appeared two horsemen. 
 
 As they came opposite the cottage, they looked for evi- 
 dences of the presence of its former inmates, but did not 
 pull up their animals. 
 
 " Evidently they too have pulled out," remarked one of 
 the horsemen to his companion. " I say, Jobbers, it's pretty 
 hard, now, on the poor ranchers, and I'll be hanged if I 
 don't wish there v^as some way of getting out the gold with- 
 out ruining their homes. Look there now; finest ranch and 
 finest family in the whole country. Ranch gone to the dogs 
 and the family gone, God only knows where." 
 
 "Oh 'e's all right," returned the other. " 'E'll get another 
 bit of land some'er's and go to work again, and in a few years 
 'e'll 'ave it all set out with trees and grape-vines. Great 
 country this for a man as 'as to work for 'is livin'; great 
 country, and w'en I return to Hingland I intend to hadvise 
 all my farmer hacquaintances to hemigrate to Califor- 
 nia." 
 
 And then the two men relapsed into silence and rode on. 
 The next day Mr. Jobbers took the boat for Sacramento,
 
 196 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 and from there went to New York, from whence he returned 
 to his own country, fully impressed with the idea that how- 
 ever rough a life it might be in the mines for gentlemen, 
 California was a great place for men who work for a living, 
 and is to-day probably advising every farmer whoin he meets 
 to " hemigrate."
 
 OR. JUST A CAMPIN . 197 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN RANCH. 
 
 It was high noon when our friends reached Phippsburg, 
 and they were still fifteen miles from the new home to which 
 they were going. 
 
 The girls had not yet arrived, the steamer on which they 
 had taken passage having grounded upon a bar formed from 
 the washing from the mines.* 
 
 Johnny, too, was complaining of his back, and his parents 
 feared to take him further that day over the rough roads. 
 
 It was decided, therefore, that Mrs. Parsons and Johnny 
 should remain at the hotel in Phippsburg while the men went 
 on with the goods, and that on the morrow when they returned, 
 the heavy wagon and carriage with the team which Mr. 
 Blake was to have, should be turned over to him and the 
 family should go -on in the spring wagon. 
 
 Small as it was, the expense of remaining at the hotel 
 
 * SAN FRANCISCO, CAL., Sept. 15. The rapid filling up of Sacramento River and 
 its tributaries by ddbris from hydraulic mines has been brought forcibly to public notice 
 by the dangerous sandbars recently formed, which have proved ruinous to river navi- 
 gation. Just below Sacramento a big sandbar formed, so that a loaded steamer draw- 
 ing only four and a half feet of water grounded this week and only got off with diffi- 
 culty. Ten years ago deep-sea vessels could pass this place, where, it is estimated, tne 
 deposits of mining debris now reaches a depth of twenty feet. Yuba River has been so 
 filled up that the smallest boat cannot get to Maryville except when there is a flood, 
 though formerly big boats ran there. Feather River is virtually closed to navigation 
 all the year, because of formidable bars. Of course San Francisco Bay suffers also, 
 and a large part near the mouth of the Sacramento has been so badly filled up as to 
 make navigation dangerous. The " Slickens War," as it is called, is a fight of one 
 rapidly dwindling industry against the agricultural interests of two of the richest val- 
 leys in the state and the navigation of the main inland waters. Unless something is 
 done soon to deepen Sacramento River navigation must be abandoned and the farmers 
 will be left to the tender mercies of the railroads. [Special to New York Tribune.
 
 198 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 was a sad draw on the few remaining dollars in the possession 
 of John and Martha Parsons, but it could not be helped and 
 the teams drove on and left them. 
 
 Towards evening the boat arrived, and on it came Jennie 
 and Lucy. Mrs. Parsons could not leave Johnny to go down 
 to the landing, but watched at the hotel window and beck- 
 oned to them as they came up the opposite side of the street. 
 
 When the girls saw their mother they hurried across the 
 street to the hotel and into the sitting-room where she 
 awaited them, and in another moment all three were crying 
 upon each others' shoulders. 
 
 "Oh mother, mother, it's awful to think that the old place 
 is lost, buried by the overflow from those mines; is there no 
 way to save it ? Can't it be floated off again ? " sobbed Lucy, 
 her whole frame shaking with excitement. " I can't bear to 
 live and know that you and father are driven out of your 
 comfortable home and forced to begin on a piece of wild 
 land again. I wish you would go to town and live and let 
 me teach school and support you. I'm sure I could do it." 
 
 " You must not take it so hard, dears," returned their 
 mother, still holding the girls close to her. " True, it is very 
 sad to be obliged to give up the old home, but no doubt we 
 shall be very comfortable on the new place when we get it 
 fixed up a little. What hurts me most is the knowledge that 
 we may never be able to visit you if you go so far away as I 
 suppose you will do when you are married to Mr. Annelsey." 
 
 " I'll never marry, mother, never," sobbed Lucy; "I have 
 written Mr. Annelsey and broken off our engagement, and am 
 going to stay with you and father and help take care of 
 Johnny as long as I live. You need not say a word against 
 it, for it's too late; the letter is half way to New York by this 
 time." 
 
 To say that Mrs. Parsons was greatly surprised at this,
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 199 
 
 would be but to state the truth. To say that she greatly 
 regretted it, would not be so true. 
 
 She had felt a certain degree of pride in the thought that 
 Lucy would marry wealthy, and had sought to obtain com- 
 fort for the supposed coming separation in the knowledge 
 that her daughter could want for nothing which wealth could 
 buy, yet at times had feared that Lucy might not find happi- 
 ness in the union, and wondered if it would not have been 
 better for her to have married Erastus. 
 
 Especially since the last great trouble had come upon 
 them, and she saw how her husband was breaking under it, 
 she could not help thinking how much comfort it would have 
 been to him, and to herself, if the young folks could have 
 found their happiness in wedding each other and remaining 
 with or near them in their old age. And now, while she 
 scolded Lucy a little for her haste in the matter, she could 
 not but feel thankful at heart that her child was not to go 
 from her, at least for the present. 
 
 Jennie joined her sister in deploring the loss of their old 
 home, and wept aloud and violently when her mother spoke 
 of separation, but she did not offer to teach school to support 
 her parents, and when her mother gently bade her cease to 
 weep she wept the harder and clung the more closely. 
 
 "Come, Jennie," said Mrs. Parsons finally, "you really 
 must cheer up, dear. It is not so bad but it might be worse. 
 We have each other yet and no doubt shall get "on nicely in 
 the new home, and when Mr. Ensign gets ready, you and he 
 can be married and live in San Francisco, which is not so far 
 away bijj that you can come home and see us once in a while, 
 and maybe we can visit you why Jennie, what is the matter; 
 have you broken with Mr. Ensign also ? " 
 
 But Jennie only cried the harder and clung the closer 
 with her face hidden upon her mother's shoulder.
 
 200 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Seeing the inability of her sister to speak, Lucy said: 
 " Jennie is married already, mother, and she and Mr. Ensign 
 are to start for Chicago next week. 
 
 " Mr. Ensign came to see her the night that we got your 
 letter telling us of the breaking of the dam, and found us 
 crying, and when we told him about it he urged Jennie to 
 marry him at once, and finally she consented and he went 
 and got a clergyman, and we all went down into the Profes- 
 sor's parlor and saw them married." 
 
 " I sh-shall ne-never forgive myself in-in the world if you 
 are angry with me," sobbed Jennie. " You know you-you 
 wrote in the letter that -that we " 
 
 " Yes, dear, I know," said Mrs. Parsons soothingly, strok- 
 ing Jennie's hair the while, " I wrote you that if your lovers 
 urged a speedy marriage your father and I would not object. 
 So you have done nothing wrong, and I am sure Mr. Ensign 
 will make you a good, kind husband, and I hope you will be 
 very happy. I am only sorry that you are going so far away. 
 Cannot Mr. Ensign find work in San Francisco ? " 
 
 At this Jennie began to check her sobs, and from the two 
 girls their mother learned the whole story. 
 
 Ensign had chanced to meet a gentleman from Chicago 
 for whom he had worked before he came to the coast, and 
 who now offered him a position at good wages with the pros- 
 pect of a foremanship in a short time, if he would return to 
 Chicago and the old shop. As wages were not so good in 
 San Francisco as formerly, and there were rumors of the fac- 
 tory shutting down entirely, he had decided to accept the 
 offer, provided Jennie would go with him as his wife, and 
 going to consult her with little hope that she wo.ild consent 
 to so hasty a marriage, had arrived just as the girls were in 
 their deepest distress over the news from home. Taking 
 advantage of the situation he urged an instant marriage.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 2OI 
 
 which ended in Jennie's sobbing out a consent upon his 
 shoulder, and the young man had gone at once for the pastor 
 of a church and had the ceremony performed in the presence 
 of the family with vvhorti the girls were rooming. 
 
 He was to come for Jennie in a few days as soon as he 
 could arrange some little matters of business, and they were 
 to go to Sacramento by boat and from there by rail to Chi- 
 cago. 
 
 "And so I am to lose one of my girls after all," said Mrs 
 Parsons when they had finished. " Well, if you are only 
 happy, dear, I will try and not be sorry that you are going." 
 
 The next day when Mr. Parsons returned he hugged and 
 kissed the girls in a boisterous manner, which he intended 
 as a cover for his feelings over the loss of the old place and 
 their changed circumstances. 
 
 Then he went to Mr. Blake's office, delivered up the 
 horses, wagon and carriage, and gave him a bill of sale for 
 the hogs and the household goods which he was to have and 
 which had been left by agreement at a neighbor's. 
 
 In return he received a warranty deed to the new place, 
 made by his request and without her knowledge in the name 
 of his wife. 
 
 He did not do this for the purpose of defrauding anyone, 
 for he owed no man a dollar, but he had lost all pride in 
 ownership and somehow felt that honor required that, hav- 
 ing failed to protect his own rights and guard his family 
 from suffering, he should now resign all claim to the direc- 
 tion of affairs and place what little was left of their fortune 
 in the hands of her who, equally with himself, had aided in 
 accumulating all that was. lost, as well as all that remained. 
 
 Accompanying the deed was an abstract of title signed 
 by the recorder of deeds for the county, showing that there- 
 were no mortgages on record against the land therein de-
 
 202 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 scribed, and that the title thereto was in the name of Mr. 
 Blake. 
 
 Not daring to trust to his own knowledge of such things, 
 Mr. Parsons took the abstract and deed to the landlord of 
 the hotel, whom he thought a man likely to be possessed of 
 some knowledge of business. The landlord looked them 
 over and pronounced them all right. 
 
 Determined to have no lingering doubts to worry him 
 hereafter, Mr. Parsons then sought out the village lawyer, 
 and submitted them to him also. 
 
 That gentleman glanced them over and replied: 
 
 "It's all right, sir; all right." 
 
 " Land entered by John Smith, who sells to Peter Jones. 
 Deed signed by John Smith and Hannah E. Smith his wife. 
 They sell to Thomas R. Blake. Thomas R. Blake and Mary 
 S. Blake deed to Martha J. Parsons. 
 
 " No mortgage appears upon the records in my office 
 against the above described land. 
 
 " ENDS PUTERBAUGH, 
 
 Recorder." 
 
 " That's all right. Title in your wife Nobody can get 
 it away from you, sir." 
 
 "That's what I thought every time afore," muttered 
 John Parsons to himself as he left the office, "but they did it 
 all the same. But maybe as this place ain't worth much and 
 ain't never likely to be, they'll leave us in peace the rest of 
 our lives." 
 
 It was near the middle of the afternoon when the family 
 found themselves in the spring wagon and on their, way. 
 
 The road wound round and round the hills, now up, now 
 down, rocky and full of gullies washed by the rains; never 
 being repaired except when it became absolutely impassable, 
 and in spite of the careful driving of his father, the rough
 
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 203 
 
 jolting hurt Johnny, sometimes causing him to cry out with 
 pain. 
 
 Night overtook them when they were still several miles 
 from their journey's end, making it still more difficult to 
 travel with 'any speed, so that it was ten o'clock when they 
 turned their tried and jaded horses off the main road into a 
 by-track to the right, and a quarter of a mile further on 
 pulled up in front of a cheap, unpainted board shanty their 
 new home upon the mountain side. 
 
 It was too late to think of doing anything except to make 
 a cup of coffee and bunk down in the easiest way possible 
 for the night. 
 
 Mr. Parsons, with the assistance of the neighbor who 
 came with him the day before, had put up a cook stove and 
 made a bunk for themselves on the floor, which remained 
 just as they had crawled out of it in the morning. Another 
 similar one was now made up in another corner of the room, 
 and upon these the family slept, except Johnny, who occu- 
 pied his wheeled cot, it having been the last thing packed on 
 the wagon before leaving the old home. 
 
 When they arose the next morning the sun was shining 
 over the mountain tops, and doing the best it could to make 
 the scene a pleasant one. 
 
 Mr. Parsons hastily slipped on his clothes and went out to 
 look to the horses. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons and the girls also dressed hurriedly and 
 then stepped to the door and looked out. It had been too 
 dark to see much the night before, and they had been too 
 utterly tired out to try to see even the little that might have 
 been seen, but now they were eager to know how the place 
 really did look. 
 
 A sad enough contrast it was to the old home. Instead 
 of a white cottage with its green blinds and wide open ve-
 
 204 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 randahs, their dwelling was a rough shanty of boards nailed 
 perpendicularly to the framework, resembling in this respect 
 the one which they had occupied for a few days on the Sus- 
 col ranch. But instead of being sixteen feet in length, these 
 boards were but ten feet long, and as a consequence there 
 was no loft above as in the Suscol Cottage. 
 
 The interior was ceiled with cotton cloth, but there were 
 no little nicely made conveniences; no sink; no cupboard; 
 no partition; no porch over the door. All was in one room 
 and all was cheap and rough. 
 
 Outside, the view was no more cheering. The shanty 
 stood well up on the hill, or mountain. Below, and for a 
 little distance both in front and in the rear, was a piece of 
 tolerably level ground, perhaps forty acres in all, which de- 
 clined gently to the west, ending in a ravine, beyond which 
 the earth became broken and rocky again. 
 
 Above the shanty the ground sloped upwards with a 
 sharper pitch for a few hundred feet and then rose rapidly, 
 becoming more and more precipitous, until it reached the 
 summit a third of a mile away. 
 
 In places portions of the solid rock foundation projected 
 through the barren soil, while in others, immense detached 
 boulders, weighing hundreds of tons, lay only slightly imbed- 
 ded in the earth and looking as if a push would send them 
 crashing down the mountain side. 
 
 Here and there stood a digger pine, its blue-green 
 spines looking, in the distance, like bunches of thick 
 smoke. 
 
 These, with a few scattering white oaks, half denuded of 
 their limbs by the tempests, and an occasional clump of 
 manzineto bushes, were the only vegetation which grew here, 
 except where some large boulder formed a slight protection 
 from the wind, and prevented the rains from washing away
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 205 
 
 the thin coating of earth below it, might be found a few 
 bunches of coarse wild grass. 
 
 A fe.nce of boards had been thrown around the tillable 
 ground by the last occupants, but this was down in places, 
 and only added to the'general look of isolation and decay. 
 
 The road by which they had come the night before could 
 be seen at one point only, and that nearly a mile distant, 
 where it wound around a spur of the mountain and dived 
 down into a ravine from which it emerged only to wind 
 around other bluffs and spurs and dive down into other hol- 
 lows out of the range of vision of anyone standing in the 
 door or at the windows of the shanty. 
 
 By ascending to the summit of the mountain, a succession 
 of lower ridges and hills could be seen stretching away 
 towards Phippsburg and the river, with sometimes a glimpse 
 of the valley beyond, and of a thin line of smoke from the 
 steamers that went puffing up and down that highway of 
 nature; but from the lower ground on which the shanty stood 
 this view was shut out by intervening hills, and there came a 
 feeling of loneliness, and sequestration indescribable, to the 
 three women as they looked out upon the scene that first 
 morning. 
 
 A thick crop of self-sown oats mixed with weeds had 
 sprung up on the ground, untilled for two years. These the 
 rain had beaten flat to the earth in places, while in others 
 they still kept a half erect position and were twisted together 
 in bunches. 
 
 The few scattering grape vines, left to themselves, had 
 broken from their supports and run riot among the weeds 
 and grass. The peach and pear trees showed the same lack 
 of care, the very luxuriousness of their growth and their 
 untrimmed appearance adding to the general look of desola- 
 tion.
 
 206 
 
 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 And this was the scene upon which Martha Parsons 
 looked, standing in the door of the shanty with her two 
 daughters. Contrasting it with the home they had just left, 
 and recalling the fact that the nearest neighbor was two miles 
 away, is it any wonder that her heart sank and that for a 
 moment she almost wished they had gone down into the val- 
 ley and rented, instead of buying this isolated and lonely 
 place upon the mountain side ? 

 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 2OJ 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A GLEAM OF SUNLIGHT. 
 
 But it would not do to give way to feelings of despair. 
 This was to be their home and they must make the best of it, 
 and without a word she turned back and began arranging 
 things so as to give room to set the table and get what break- 
 fast was possible under the circumstances. 
 
 Mr. Parsons came in with his arms full of wood gathered 
 from a fallen tree top, and soon a fire was burning in the 
 stove and the smell of coffee filled the room. 
 
 No complaints were uttered, but all worked to get things 
 to rights. Nails were driven into the studding of the walls 
 and articles of clothing and maay of the cooking utensils were 
 hung up out of the way, at least for the time being. 
 
 The table was placed in the center of the room and 
 covered with a white cloth, the frugal meal placed upon it 
 and the family gathered about for the first meal in the new 
 home. As they ate they talked of how best to arrange things. 
 
 If it had been the dry season they could have got on 
 much more comfortably, but with the certainty of rain one- 
 third of the time for months to come, the prospect was dismal 
 enough. 
 
 However, they must do the best they could, and after 
 breakfast Mr. Parsons helped to put up the beds, one in each 
 corner farthest from the stove, which stood in the center at 
 that end of the room where a single window of six small 
 panes of glass looked out upon the mountain above them. 
 At the other end were two windows of twelve panes each,
 
 208 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 through which could be seen the hills stretching away towards 
 the river. 
 
 There was also a similar window on each side at the right 
 of the doors, so the room was not dark, however much it 
 might lack for conveniences. 
 
 Everything not needed for daily use was packed in boxes 
 and trunks and stored away under the beds, but even with 
 this economy of space very little room was left for moving 
 about. 
 
 Each member of the family, however, tried to be cheerful 
 and so cheer the rest. Lucy even went so far as to attempt 
 a witticism, and suggested that there was no lack of room so 
 long as none of them were obliged to leave the house in order 
 to get space to open the stove door. 
 
 Strips of bright carpet were laid between the beds, about 
 which were hung curtains reaching from the ceiling to the 
 floor. The clock found a resting place upon a shelf to the 
 left of the front door. A bureau with a mirror occupied the 
 space between the windows at the end where the beds stood. 
 The table, when not in use, was folded up and allowed to 
 stand in the center of the floor ready to be opened at meal 
 time. Upon the walls were hung a few pictures. The white 
 curtains which had once adorned the windows of the sitting- 
 room of the old home, were fitted to those of the new; and 
 when all was done that could be done, the room looked so 
 bright and cosy that the hearts of its occupants lifted a little, 
 and but for the thought that one was so soon to leave them, 
 whom they knew not when, if ever, they would meet again, 
 they might have been almost happy. 
 
 Jennie did not know what day to look for her husband's 
 coming, for he could not tell when they parted in San Fran- 
 cisco, how long it would take him to arrange his business, 
 which consisted in the collection of several little sums of
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 209 
 
 money owing to him, but she had written from Phippsburg, 
 telling him where to go for directions how to find her ; and 
 one day, about a week after the family had taken possession 
 of the shanty on the mountain side he came, having walked 
 out from the Landing. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons cried a little when Ensign kissed her and 
 called her " mother." It reminded her so forcibly of the 
 separation which his coming presaged that she could not help 
 it. But she welcomed him warmly and made him feel that 
 she loved him already for Jennie's sake. 
 
 From John Parsons he received a hand-shake which, 
 hardened as his own hands were by work in the shop, came 
 near causing Ensign to flinch. The man whose daughter he 
 had married felt a very warm friendship for him indeed. 
 
 In comparing Ensign with Annelsey, as he had naturally 
 done at times, when he expected both would become his 
 sons-in-law, he had somehow come to regard him as a kind 
 of hero, contending against odds, as he felt that all men who 
 labored were forced to do, and that in choosing Jennie for a 
 wife he had allied himself with those who, although giving 
 no outward sign, were yet half unconsciously revolving in 
 their minds some plan by which to remove the wrongs 
 beneath which they suffered and writhed. 
 
 It was true that he had lost his pride in possession and 
 with it all confidence in himself. 
 
 Without much knowledge of books, inclined by nature to 
 think lightly of his own abilities, and having failed to suc- 
 cessfully defend what he knew to be his natural rights to the 
 wealth which he had himself created, he now felt that he had 
 no right to offer advice upon needed reforms in society or 
 the laws. But Ensign was young, he possessed cool courage 
 and a spirit that would not allow him to remain supinely 
 inactive beneath great and continued wrongs. Besides this 
 14
 
 210 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 he had a fair education, and, so the girls said, had once or 
 twice talked to his fellow-workingmen in public upon ques- 
 tions affecting their interests, and there had gradually grown 
 up in the mind of John Parsons a feeling that Ensign was to 
 be instrumental in some way, perhaps as a leader, in righting 
 the wrongs of the people. 
 
 So long as Lucy had been engaged to marry Mr. Annel- 
 sey these feelings had been suppressed, overlaid as it were 
 by a fear that in encouraging them he was choosing between 
 his daughters, who were equally dear to him, but he had not 
 been able to prevent a feeling that Annelsey, being in sym- 
 pathy with the cause of the losses which he had suffered, 
 was in some way partially responsible for them, as he cer- 
 tainly was a representative of the class who were the gainers 
 by those losses, and by the losses of the thousands and mill- 
 ions of other men and women who are doomed to toil all 
 their lives for the wretched pittance of enough food and 
 clothing, and hopes of better times, to induce them to con- 
 tinue the work of creating wealth for others. 
 
 The moment, however, he learned that Lucy had dis- 
 missed Mr. Annelsey, the thoughts which had before been 
 but a dumb kind of feeling, kept under by a knowledge of 
 the relation which the young man was likely to bear to the 
 family, began to take shape, and once or twice, in talking 
 with Jennie of the life which she and her husband would 
 lead in Chicago, he had even put these thoughts into words, 
 and now he welcomed the young man not alone as a son-in- 
 law, but as one who might some day help to right existing 
 wrongs and make the people free. 
 
 Ensign remained with the family nearly a week, and 
 every day endeared himself more and more to his wife's 
 parents. It was in order that they might become better 
 acquainted with him and thus not feel that they Were giving
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . 211 
 
 their daughter to one so nearly a stranger that he remained. 
 During his stay he helped all he could to put the place in 
 better shape, and as the rains did not fall during the entire 
 week, the two men were enabled to do much towards mak- 
 ing things look more cheerful. 
 
 A shed for the horses was built out of lumber bought for 
 that purpose by the former owner, but never erected. The 
 broken places in the fence were repaired; the grape vines 
 staked and tied up, and portions of the over abundant growth 
 of fruit trees cut away. 
 
 It was really wonderful, the change which these little im- 
 provements made in the look of the place. But then they 
 had the sun, and the sun with a very little assistance in the 
 way of setting leaning fences and gates upright will, in a few 
 days, make a great change in any picture first seen when wet 
 and sodden by long continued rains. 
 
 As the two men worked they talked, talked of the 
 wrongs of the farmers and the laboring and business men of 
 the cities; of the causes of so many losses and so much 
 poverty and suffering and of the possible or impossible 
 remedies. 
 
 " There ought to be a law to prevent corporations from 
 ownin' land they don't need an' can't make no use on, 'cept 
 to make them that does want to use it pay for the privilege," 
 said Mr. Parsons, as they were at work repairing the fence. 
 " No man can't be really free unless he has a home of his 
 own, and here gover'ment has gone an' give half the State 
 to corporations, an' how is the next gineration to git homes, 
 I'd like to know. 
 
 "An* other corporations are washin' down the mountains 
 an' a fillin' up the valleys; spilin' the finest lands; chokin' 
 up the river, an' destroyin" the homes of honest folks jest as 
 ef gold was of more value than bread. I've tried hard to
 
 212 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 get somethin" ahead agin old age come a creepin' on to us, 
 and to give the youngsters a start when they left us, as Jen- 
 nie is a doin' now, and here's what it all amounts to; a bit 
 of land not much better than wild on the side of a moun- 
 tain. The land God made, an' all the improvements that is 
 on to it never cost a thousand dollars when they was new, 
 and that ain't as much as my wife had when I married her ; 
 so we've got nothin" at all to show fer a lifetime of hard 
 work an' savin'. 
 
 " So fur as we're concerned, mother n' me I mean, it 
 don't make much difference any more. We're gettin' old 
 and shan't last much longer; but ef you an' Jennie ain't no 
 luckier than we hev been, and there ain't no change for the 
 better in things, I'm afeard you won't have even sich a 
 shanty as we've got to die in, and your children won't be no 
 better than slaves. Ye see it holds to reason that ef things 
 don't git no better they must git wus, fer every year the cor- 
 porations an' the rich folks is a gittin' more an' more of the 
 land, an' of everything else, an' the more they git the easier 
 it is to git more, an' by an' by they'll hev it all, an' them as 
 hain't got nothin' an' can't get nothin' will hev to do as they 
 say or starve." 
 
 " I don't exactly understand where the wrong starts," re- 
 plied Ensign, " but I know there is a great wrong some- 
 where. The ownership of land by corporations, and by 
 others who only wish to play at dog-in-the-manger, is one 
 cause for the existing condition of things, but there must be 
 others. 
 
 " Some way or other the larger portion of all the wealth 
 which the people create gets away from them while they are 
 exchanging it among themselves. I don't know how, but it 
 does. If it didn't there could not possibly be rich people 
 who have never worked.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 213 
 
 " The merchant buys the goods of the manufacturer and 
 sells them to those who consume them, thus saving much 
 time which would be wasted if each individual was forced to 
 go to the manufacturer for every article purchased. The 
 merchant is therefore a valuable member of society he 
 helps the producers to make an exchange of wealth, and is 
 fairly entitled to receive pay for what he does! But there 
 are the national banks, I don't see how they help any; and 
 every particle they consume or hoard up is so much taken 
 from the wealth which belongs to those who produce it. It 
 seems to me that those who produce wealth ought to have 
 wit enough to devise some means of exchanging it among 
 themselves without paying a bank for the privilege. And 
 every once in a while there comes a panic, and thousands of 
 business men are ruined, and thousands of laboring men 
 thrown out of employment, and then they get desperate and 
 try all kinds of sharp tricks to catch up again. Now if no- 
 body is benefited by these panics, some way ought to be 
 devised to prevent them, and if anybody is benefited by 
 them they are the fellows that ought to be watched and 
 not allowed to have any hand in the making of the laws, for 
 it is natural to suppose that they would legislate in their own 
 interest and not in that of the laboring and business portion 
 of the community. 
 
 " Then there are the railroads; they get their charters 
 from the people on the plea of being public highways. The 
 people build the roads "and then the companies charge just 
 what they choose for transporting the people and their 
 goods from one part of the country to another, and if it is 
 goods that they transport, they usually take a great deal more 
 of them than they leave the producers, and then bribe Con- 
 gress and courts and State legislatures not to interfere with 
 them.
 
 214 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA', 
 
 "And so it goes, and I don't know how to go to work to 
 stop it." 
 
 " Wall," replied Mr. Parsons, " you're on the right track 
 anyway, an' you jest want to keep agoin' till you think it all 
 out. What you say about the exchangin' of wealth is sensi- 
 ble. It holds to reason that there oughtn't to be nothin' 
 thrown in the way of folks exchangin' wealth. Them that 
 works creates all the wealth there is, and if they had all the 
 land to begin on, and weren't beat no way in the exchangin' 
 of what they produced, it's mighty clear that ef a fellow 
 didn't produce nothin' er help some way in the exchangin' 
 of what others produced, he wouldn't have anything to eat 
 very long. There ought to be some way discovered so that 
 them that produce the wealth could trade among theirselves 
 without supportin' a lot of fellers that don't do nothin' but 
 stan' around an' look on. 
 
 " Ef you an' Rastus, now, could be together you'd figger 
 it out between you in short meter, I'll wager. I tell you, 
 Rastus is smart, and he's got the sand to back it, an' ef any- 
 body ever .goes to disturbin* him on his claim, there'll be 
 trouble in camp dead sartin." 
 
 At last the day came when Jennie and her husband were 
 to take their departure. 
 
 The family arose early and prepared breakfast as usual, 
 but it was with heavy hearts and eyes wet with tears. And 
 when it was eaten, Mr. Parsons went out and hitched the 
 horses to the spring wagon and drove around to the door of 
 the shanty, and helped Ensign to lift in Jennie's trunk. The 
 smaller traveling bags followed. Then came the last kiss 
 and clasping in arms and pledges of constant remembrance 
 and love, over which we willingly draw a vail. 
 
 Who is there that has not witnessed similar partings; part-
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 215 
 
 ings of those whose happiness depended so much on each 
 other's presence, yet who were forced by the cruel necessity 
 of hunting for dollars to tear themselves apart, and each go 
 separate ways with half of the TOnshine gone out of their 
 lives ? 
 
 Will the time never come when men will understand what 
 the Teacher of men meant when He said, " Take no thought 
 for the morrow"? And is it not possible, by being just to 
 each other, to remove that constant, crushing weight of care 
 which comes from the ever-present necessity of taking 
 thought as to what we shall eat, and what we shall drink, 
 and wherewithal we shall be clothed ? 
 
 I believe it will come; I know that it is entirely possible. 
 
 When good-byes had been said, John Parsons drove the 
 young couple to the Landing,where, with tears coursing down 
 his cheeks, he too, bid them good-bye and God speed, and 
 then, having fed his horses, again hitched up and started 
 sadly homeward.
 
 2l6 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 JOHN PARSONS GIVES ERASTUS A HINT. 
 
 When the spring came, the level ground about the shanty 
 on the mountain side had been broken and sowed in grain, 
 or planted with vegetables ; the sloping ground above set in 
 grape vines, and a hundred added fruit trees were putting 
 forth their buds and giving promise of the future. 
 
 John Parsons was not so young and spry as formerly, but 
 he was still in good health, and work was his only escape 
 from thought. Every day when the rain was anything less 
 than a regular downpour, he was to be seen at work some- 
 where about the premises, and Mrs. Parsons and Lucy lent 
 ready assistance. 
 
 As the house was small, the labor of caring for it was 
 small also, and on pleasant days one or both of them were 
 to be found busily employed in the garden or vineyard. 
 
 They made few acquaintances in their new home. There 
 was still no neighbor nearer than two miles away, and not 
 more than a score of families within a circle easily reached 
 for a day's visit, and of these a number were foreigners, 
 who, being unable to speak the language, did not mingle 
 with their American neighbors. 
 
 Occasionally a couple of women from some of the little 
 ranches upon the other side of the mountain would come to 
 spend the day at the shanty, but not often; and although 
 pleased to have them come, Mrs. Parsons and Lucy did not 
 always return their visits. This was not because they did 
 not feel kindly towards their neighbors, but because they felt
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . 217 
 
 little inclination to go from home, and because they were 
 busy, whenever the weather would admit of it, in helping 
 to get the place in shape to {produce a living for the 
 family. 
 
 And so the spring and the summer passed, and fall came 
 again. 
 
 They now had an abundance of vegetables; the two cows 
 which they had brought from the old place, and which found 
 pasturage in the hollows of the hills, supplied them with an 
 abundance of milk and butter, and even with a small sur- 
 plus to sell; and this, with the chickens and turkeys that 
 thrived so finely and wandered at will up the mountain side 
 and down the gorge at the foot of the level field, kept them 
 supplied with groceries. 
 
 Of clothing they had a good supply when they came, and 
 were not obliged to purchase, either for garments or bedding, 
 for some time to come, and so did not suffer for anything 
 except from a sense of their losses and wrongs, and for the 
 want of companionship. 
 
 They heard from Jennie and her husband every few 
 weeks. Ensign had been given the place promised him. 
 They were living in the outskirts of the city, in a little cot- 
 tage which they had bought on monthly payments, and were 
 comfortable and happy, as young married folks who are 
 blessed with good health and plenty of faith in each other 
 and the future, always are. 
 
 From Erastus they heard but seldom, but knew him to 
 be at work on his claim at the Slough. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons had written him of the destruction of the 
 old home, and of their removal to the new, soon after its 
 occurrence, and also of Jennie's marriage to Ensign and 
 their removal to Chicago. 
 
 Of Lucy's breaking with Mr. Annelsey she did not write,
 
 2l8 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 thinking possibly it might not be permanent, in which case 
 it would be better for Erastus, if still feeling attached to 
 Lucy, not to have his hopes raised to be again dashed to the 
 ground. 
 
 Mr. Annelsey, however, did not plead very earnestly with 
 Lucy to reconsider her action in dismissing him. It was 
 several weeks before his reply came; and then, while he ex- 
 pressed regret at her decision, he did not urge her very 
 strongly to reverse it. Knowing that his parents would 
 oppose his marriage with a poor girl, he had not informed 
 them of his engagement, and no comments would therefore 
 be made at its being annulled ; a fact upon which he now 
 congratulated himself. 
 
 He had already begun to feel his affection for Lucy 
 weaken with absence; was, in fact, becoming enamored of 
 another young lady in whose society he had frequently been 
 thrown since his return to New York, and whose position in 
 wealth was equal to his own ; and although he told himself 
 that Lucy's letter had broken his heart, it is probable that 
 lifter the shock to his self-esteem was over, he was rather 
 glad than otherwise. 
 
 If Lucy expected or desired a more vehement protesta- 
 tion of love from her discarded suitor than she received, her 
 manner upon opening his letter did not reveal it. 
 
 She read the letter in the presence of the family, and then 
 calmly handed it to her mother. The next day she replied 
 to it, reiterating her desire to be free from their engagement 
 and asking the return of her letters. 
 
 " I shall send yours, together with the ring and other 
 jewelry, by the same mail that takes this letter," she wrote 
 him, and having sealed it and seen it, in company with the 
 package, safely on its way to the office, she went about her 
 usual duties with a cheerful, even merry air, which was a
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 219 
 
 great source of comfort to her parents, and of especial satis- 
 faction to her father. 
 
 " Ef Rastus 'ud only come back now it 'ud be all right," 
 he mused, and feeling certain that the young man's affection 
 for Lucy had jiot waned because of absence, fully expected 
 him to come back and ask her to be his wife. 
 
 For this he waited with impatience, wondering at Erastus' 
 delay and inventing excuses for it. 
 
 " 'Spect the poor fellow hasn't jest got the money by him 
 to come on," he said to himself. 
 
 And then again, " Maybe he's a puttin' in his crop an' 
 wants to finish so it will be growin' while he's gone." Or, 
 " like enough, he's a-workin' for somebody else for a spell an' 
 can't honorably get off right away." 
 
 But as the weeks passed into months and the only evi- 
 dence that Erastus had not forgotten them was a letter 
 expressing his sorrow at the loss of their home, and a hope 
 that he might some time assist them if they should require it, 
 but never a word about Lucy or any intention of visiting the 
 family, all hope of seeing Lucy married to the man whom he 
 loved as a son and respected for his manly qualities began to 
 die out of John Parsons' bosom. 
 
 " Rastus was always awful proud," he said to himself, 
 "an' I reckon he can't get over the girl's preferrin' of that 
 young jackanapes to him in the first place." 
 
 He still supposed that Mrs. Parsons had written Erastus 
 of Lucy's dismissal of Annelsey, and it was not until months 
 had passed and summer was giving place to fall that he 
 learned differently. 
 
 He had never mentioned his hope that the young folks 
 would " make up" to anyone. 
 
 Erastus knew that Lucy was with her parents, but sup- 
 posed her only waiting for her affianced to come and claim
 
 220 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 her, and so worked on, striving to conquer his love but never 
 succeeding, even for a moment. 
 
 And Lucy, although knowing that she loved Erastus, had 
 always loved him, either supposed that he knew of her broken 
 engagement, and knowing it, was silent because he had no 
 love for her, or, if she suspected that he did not know, was 
 restrained by maidenly reserve from taking any steps to 
 acquaint him with the fact. 
 
 One day Mrs. Parsons was helping her husband in the 
 garden, when something was said about Erastus. 
 
 "I wonder," remarked Mrs. Parsons, "what he is doing 
 now ? It is a good while since we heard from him. I wish 
 I knew how he is getting along. Poor boy, he must have a 
 hard time of it with no one to keep his clothes in order or do 
 a thing for him. I wonder if he ever thinks of getting mar- 
 ried? 
 
 "Of course he must," she added, answering her own 
 question; "he has got a little start by this time and every 
 young man on a farm needs a wife. I hope he will get a 
 good one when he does marry." 
 
 John Parsons gave his clothes a little hitch, a habit he had 
 when at a loss for a word. Then turning his back to his 
 wife and putting an extra bit of force into the hoe he was 
 using, said : 
 
 " I had sort o' thought maybe he an' Lucy 'd make up, 
 now Annelsey's out o' the way, but it seems they don't. 
 'Pears like Rastus is too proud to take up with bein' second 
 choice, though I don't b'lieve the girl ever cared half as 
 much for that ar popenjay Annelsey as she did for him, 
 even if she did promise to marry him. I wish she'd write to 
 Rastus and tell him so. I know that 'ud fetch him. Ras 
 ain't the fellow to get over that kind of a thing in a hurry, 
 and I know he loved her desprit, an' it seems no more'n fair
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 221 
 
 that she should take the first step towards makin' up, under 
 the circumstances." 
 
 His manner of saying this showed that he intended it to 
 be an argument too strong for his wife to rebut, showing rea- 
 son why Lucy could, and should, let Erastus know that she 
 had changed her mind and was ready to marry him if he 
 still desired it. 
 
 When he paused he felt that he had not made the case as 
 strong as it should be, but not knowing exactly how to make 
 it stronger he waited for a reply from his wife, still keeping 
 his back towards her and his hoe going vigorously. 
 
 But Mrs. Parsons knew that her husband had not 
 finished what he wished to say, and she remained silent. 
 Pretty soon he began again. 
 
 " You see, Marty, it holds to reason that Lucy should be 
 the one to speak first. Rastus loved her, an" she knew it; 
 leastwise he thought she did; an' knowing it she went an' 
 engaged herself to that ar fellow from New York an' so 
 gave Ras to think she wouldn't have him no way it could 
 be fixed. So he went off to git away from the sight of 'em. 
 An' now, though knowin' that Annelsey's got his walkin' 
 papers, he don't know as Lucy 'd have him no more'n she 
 would afore; an' Ras ain't the kind as goes spoonin' round 
 beggin' for what folks don't want to give him. It ain't right, 
 an' it ain't fair, when I know the girl 'ud give everything she's 
 got in the world to have him back, that they should be kept 
 apart jest because it's customary for the man to speak first. 
 He has spoke first once an' now it's her turn." 
 
 All the time John was speaking Martha Parsons was 
 thinking. She believed that Lucy loved Erastus and was 
 secretly in hopes that he would yet return to her, but she was 
 not sure, and she saw the delicacy of the situation more 
 clearly than did her husband, who had never been able to
 
 222 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 discover any necessity for the concealment of the true feel- 
 ings of either party to a love affair. 
 
 When her husband had ceased speaking she was silent 
 for a moment and then said simply: 
 
 "Are you sure Erastus knows that Lucy has broken with 
 Mr. Annelsey?" 
 
 John Parsons suddenly stopped hoeing and turned quickly 
 around facing his wife. 
 
 " Didn't you write him that, when the girls first come 
 home ? " he asked in surprise. 
 
 "No, I did not; I was not certain that she cared for him 
 and feared to awaken anew, hopes that, after all, might be 
 useless. It was not certain that Lucy's engagement with 
 Annelsey might not be renewed, or that because she dis- 
 missed him she loved Erastus, and I thought it best to let 
 him learn of it by accident. I supposed he would find it out 
 through Jennie or someone else, but I do not think he has." 
 
 Her husband made no reply but resumed his hoeing and 
 the subject was not referred to again. Indeed very little fur- 
 ther conversation occurred between them during the entire 
 afternoon, both appearing busy with their own thoughts. 
 
 At the supper table that evening Mr. Parsons proposed 
 that the two women should go to town the next day with 
 some butter and eggs and such other articles as they could 
 spare, and make an exchange for family supplies. 
 
 "Johnny and me'll keep house while you're gone," he 
 said; "we're capital at keepin' house, ain't we, Johnny? And 
 mother'll bring you some candy or somethin'." 
 
 There was nothing very unusual in this proposition. Mrs. 
 Parsons and Lucy had made similar trips on several occasions, 
 leaving Johnny and his father at home. 
 
 John Parsons hated to "peddle," as he called it, and his 
 wife always got better prices for the butter and eggs and
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 223 
 
 chickens than did he; besides which she knew better how to 
 invest the proceeds economically in necessities for the family, 
 and there was need of economy now. And as neither of the 
 women liked either to go to town alone, or to stay alone with 
 Johnny while the other went with the husband or father, it 
 had become the rule for both to go and leave Johnny to the 
 care of his father, and so they decided to do now. Accord- 
 ingly such vegetables as they were to take were gathered and 
 placed in the spring wagon. A hunt was made for eggs, 
 which were carefully packed, small end down, in oats, to pre- 
 vent their breaking, and the bit of butter which they had 
 saved was taken from the well where it hung by a rope, and 
 rewrapped in white cloths. 
 
 When it became dark they went with a lantern and caught 
 two dozen chickens and put them in a crate, previously made 
 and kept in which to take fowls to market ; and bright and 
 early the next morning the horses were hitched up and they 
 started. 
 
 When they were gone, John Parsons washed the dishes, 
 which the women had not stopped to do, tidied up the house 
 the best he knew how, talking to Johnny all the time, and 
 then went into the garden to work, taking the boy with him, 
 as was his almost invariable custom when the weather was 
 fine, and placing him, in his wheeled cot, where they could 
 talk together as the father worked. 
 
 The fresh air and sunshine did the child good and he 
 amused himself in many ways The chickens and turkeys 
 learned to regard him as a friend and would come around 
 him, often jumping upon his cot for some bit of food which 
 he had brought, some of them becoming so tame as to permit 
 him to handle them. 
 
 When noon came the man and boy returned to the house, 
 where the father prepared and they ate dinner. Then, when
 
 224 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 the dishes had been washed and Johnny had dropped off to 
 sleep, as he always did after dinner in the long days, John, 
 Sen., went to the bureau and rummaged around until he 
 found some writing paper and finally a pen and a bottle of 
 ink. 
 
 These he brought to the table, drew up a chair and sat 
 down. 
 
 "I'll jest give Rastus a hint," he was saying to himself, 
 "an' if he's still of the same mind as he used to be, he'll be 
 here in less'n two weeks an' mother an' Lucy'll never know 
 what fetched him. 
 
 "Wimin's curis about some things; I never did under- 
 stand 'em very well. There's Marty, now; best woman livin', 
 tender hearted as a chicken, an' Lucy's jest like her; but 
 they're a-lettin' Rastus an' her break their hearts fer each 
 other rather than to speak up an' tell him how the land lays; 
 but I ain't goin' to 'low it." 
 
 He dipped the pen in ink and then let it slip through his 
 fingers and make a great blotch on the white table cloth. 
 
 This was unfortunate; it would be a tell-tale spot inform- 
 ing the women of what he had been doing in their absence. 
 
 He arose and wet the dish rag and tried to remove the ink 
 spot, but only succeeded in making it larger. Finally he car- 
 ried the pen, ink and paper to the bureau, took off the table 
 cloth and hung it in the window to dry, brought back the 
 writing materials and again sat down to his task. 
 
 It was a long time since he had written a letter; he tried 
 to think how long, and could not remember of having done 
 so since the family came to the coast. Erastus was a toler- 
 able penman, and good at composing, and had, at Mr. Par- 
 sons' request, written the few business letters that there had 
 been a necessity for, and since he had left, there had been 
 no business letters to write, and until now John Parsons had
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 225 
 
 contented himself with simply sending his love or supplying 
 some bit of news for Lucy or her mother, .when they wrote to 
 either of the absent ones on family affairs. 
 
 But now he had an object to accomplish and must write, 
 and he squared himself to the task. 
 
 Again he dipped the pen in ink, but discovered that he 
 had forgotten the day of the month and got up and consulted 
 the almanac which always hung on a nail, driven into the 
 window casing near the clock. 
 
 When he had the date safely down he began: 
 " DEAR RASTUS: 
 
 " Yer mother and Lucy hav gon to town with some 
 chickens and things and are goin to bring back some gro- 
 ceries. 
 
 " Lucy aint a goin to marry Mr. Annelsey after all; she's 
 give him his walkin papers fer good. 
 
 " We are gittin long purty well considerin, though this 
 place aint quite so comfortable and nice as the old one was. 
 There aint no young folks around here much, and Lucy dont 
 act like she wanted to hav anything to do with any of the 
 young fellers that does come. Hadn't you better come home 
 and make us a visit. Your mother and me wants to see you 
 awful bad and so does Lucy; leastwise I think she does. 
 
 " We're gittin the place fixed up some better than it was 
 when we came here. Built a porch over the front door last 
 week and the wimen has set out some rose bushes on both 
 sides of it; you know Lucy always was terrible fond of roses. 
 
 "Johnny is bout the same as when you left. He and I hav 
 been at work in the garden this forenoon, but he's asleep now 
 thats the reason I'm writin' you. You see I dont want the 
 wimen to know it, they are so awful curis about such things. 
 I spect Lucy ud think it wasn't proper if she knew it. I 
 reckon she thinks you cant never forgive her, er love her 
 15
 
 226 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 any more, cause she went and engaged herself to that feller 
 Annelsey, fore she knew what she wanted. You see a woman 
 thinks she mus'n't chirp even ef her heart is a breakin. 
 
 "Wall, they'll be comin back fore long an I must quit 
 writin and get ready for em. When you come up you 
 needn't say anything to Lucy or mother bout my havin writ 
 to you, cause you see it wont do em any good to know it, an 
 Lucy might not like it; might think you come out of pity fer 
 her er somethin. They're awful curis critters, wimen is. 
 
 " This from yours affectionately, 
 
 "JOHN PARSONS." 
 
 He read the letter over slowly and carefully, and then 
 added: 
 
 " P. S. It was Lucy's doins breakin off with Annelsey, an 
 I dont see why she should have done it ef she hadn't loved 
 somebody else better." 
 
 The letter finished, he sealed it up, directed it and placed 
 it in the inside pocket of his vest. 
 
 He had yet to get it to the post-office without the know- 
 ledge of the family, and he was at some loss to know how to 
 accomplish this, as it was fifteen miles to the Landing, and he 
 could think of no excuse for going there immediately after 
 his wife and Lucy had purchased all needed family supplies; 
 but he determined to bring it about somehow. "Maybe 
 they'll forget something," he said, mentally, as he replaced 
 the pen and ink in the bureau. "I hope they will; ef they 
 do I'll jest lope a horse an' ride over there to-morrow an' 
 mail this letter, fer I'm bound to give 'Rastus a hint of how 
 the lead runs."
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE LOVERS' MEETING. 
 
 Although having said, in his letter to Erastus, that he 
 expected his wife and daughter soon and must prepare for 
 their coming, John Parsons did not really look for them yet 
 for some hours. 
 
 It was fifteen miles to Phippsburg over a hilly road, and 
 it required the whole of a long day to make the trip, dispose 
 of the articles taken, and return; and it was not yet the 
 middle of the afternoon when the letter was finished. Yet 
 John Parsons had no intention of telling a falsehood. Liars 
 and cowards were his especial detestation, and this slip of his 
 from the path of truthfulness, like nine-tenths of the white 
 lies so common among all classes, was the result of an 
 inability to readily command language in which to express 
 his thoughts. 
 
 He had given the " hint " which was the purpose of his 
 writing, and could think of no proper way in which to close 
 his letter and at the same time tell Erastus not to mention, 
 to Lucy or to Mrs. Parsons, the fact of his having been 
 written to. The whole affair was intended to be a fine 
 stroke of diplomacy by which the father hoped to reunite 
 those whom he loved, and whom he believed were warmly 
 attached to each other, without wounding the modesty and 
 self-respect of his daughter. 
 
 It was dusk when Mrs. Parsons and Lucy returned. 
 
 The husband and father met them at the gate which 
 opened into the enclosure where the shanty stood, and
 
 228 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 kissed as he helped them, dusty and tired, to descend from 
 the wagon. Then he handed out the bundles and packages 
 which they had purchased, after which he cared for the 
 horses while the women entered the house. 
 
 They found the fire burning brightly, the tea-kettle sim- 
 mering on the stove, and the table set. The ink-spot on the 
 table cloth was not visible, for it had been carefully covered 
 with a broad dish; and if Mrs. Parsons noticed it when she 
 removed the cloth and shook out the crumbs that evening, 
 she was wise enough not to mention it, and in the morning 
 a clean one was substituted and the stained cloth thrown into 
 the wash. 
 
 Johnny was of course anxious to see the various pack- 
 ages unwrapped, but was persuaded to defer seeing all except 
 the articles purchased especially for him, until they had 
 eaten and cleared off the table, when they would all take a 
 look at them. 
 
 As the family sat at supper they talked of the day's 
 journey, the prices received for chickens and eggs and 
 vegetables, and what they had purchased with the proceeds; 
 of what those who remained at home had done, and of what 
 they would do with the money to be obtained from the next 
 bit of produce which they would have to spare. 
 
 "Just as soon as possible we must put up the addition to 
 the house of which we have been talking," said Mrs. Par- 
 sons. " It won't cost much, and will add more to our com- 
 fort than anything else we could get 'with that amount of 
 money." 
 
 " Did you ask the price of lumber at the Landing?" asked 
 her husband. 
 
 " Why, no ; I did not suppose we could buy it now, and 
 so did not think to ask." 
 
 " Well, I d'know ; we've got a few dollars laid up now,
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 229 
 
 and by sellin' the calves we might scrape up enough to buy 
 the lumber and get it home before the rains set in. The 
 roads '11 be too bad for haulin' after that. If we had the 
 lumber home, then we'd get the nails and other things along 
 as we wus able, and I could do the work myself durin' a 
 clear spell in the winter." 
 
 ' But can we sell the calves for a fair price ? Who is 
 there to buy them ? " 
 
 " Bob Meeker, over on t'other side o' the mountain 'bout 
 four miles, said the other day he'd buy 'em, an' pay cash, ef 
 I'd bring 'em over any time within a week. I guess we'd 
 better let him have 'em an' git the lumber. It'll be mighty 
 unpleasant bein' cooped up here all through the wet season 
 agin', an' ef we had the lumber I'd manage the rest of it 
 some way." 
 
 So it was decided to sell the calves and buy the lumber 
 for an addition to the shanty, and the next day John Par- 
 sons took them over to Mr. Meeker and got the money for 
 them. 
 
 On the way home he stopped at another neighbor's and 
 borrowed a heavy wagon, and the day following started to 
 town bright and early with the letter to Erastus still carefully 
 concealed in his inside pocket. 
 
 " Bet that'll fetch him home on a run," he mused as he 
 dropped it into the office at the Landing just in time to have 
 it get into the mail bag as it was being got ready for the 
 down boat. " He'll be here in a week ef that letter goes 
 straight, er else he ain't as good at takin' a hint as I think 
 he is." 
 
 Mrs. Parsons noticed that her husband was unusually 
 jolly that night when he returned home, and all the next 
 day and the days that followed after it. 
 
 He had always tried to appear cheerful in the presence of
 
 230 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 his family, and had never failed to respond to any effort ot 
 Johnny's to get up a laugh, though it often caused him an 
 effort to do so; but on this particular evening, although it 
 was late and he must have been tired, he really felt jolly, 
 and he joked Lucy about one of the clerks at the store, 
 where she and her mother had traded when in town, and 
 also about a neighbor's son, who had shown a disposition to 
 seek her society, but who, not receiving any encouragement, 
 had decided that she was " stuck up," and so informed the^ 
 other young people of his acquaintance. 
 
 The letter was three days in reaching its destination, 
 and then lay in the post office several days more before 
 being called for. 
 
 Erastus had no correspondents other than the members 
 of Mr. Parsons' family ; and as there had been little that 
 was pleasant to write about on either side, letters had not 
 been frequent between them of late, and the young man 
 seldom went to the post office. 
 
 One day as he was working with several of his neighbors 
 upon a ditch which was to be the means of irrigating their 
 claims, another neighbor, who had been to town, rode up 
 and, stopping his horse, called out: 
 
 " Here, Hemmingway; here's a letter for you." 
 
 Erastus was in his shirt sleeves in the ditch, shoveling, 
 and the horseman leaned from his saddle and handed him 
 the letter. 
 
 " If that's from your girl, she don't write a very purty 
 hand," he said, with a wink at the other ditchers, who had 
 stopped work and stood leaning on their spades. 
 
 Glancing at the superscription, Erastus saw that it was in 
 a strange hand. The post mark, however, proclaimed it to 
 be from Phippsburg, and his first thought was that some- 
 thing terrible had again happened to Uncle John and his
 
 OR, JUST A CAMP1N . 231 
 
 family that they were all dead, may be, and a stranger had 
 written to inform him. 
 
 Hastily tearing off the envelope, he looked at the signa- 
 ture and saw the name, "John Parsons," in stiff, awkward 
 letters, at the bottom of the page, and it flashed over him 
 that Lucy was married and that Uncle John had written to 
 tell him of it because no one else liked to do so, and the 
 blood rushed to his heart, which beat so that it seemed 
 his companions must hear it. 
 
 But no; the letter said, "Lucy and her mother had gone 
 to town." 
 
 Then she was not married yet. The blood began to 
 return to its proper channels. 
 
 " Lucy has given Annelsey his walkin' papers." 
 
 Could it be possible that she was not going to marry the 
 New Yorker after all! 
 
 And if not, what then ? 
 
 The letter seemed plain enough to be understood with- 
 out possibility of mistake, yet he read it the second time 
 before its full import came to him, and then the blood rushed 
 to his heart even more violently than before. 
 
 " Lucy might be his yet that is what Uncle John meant," 
 he said to himself. "If she had not loved someone else 
 better she would not have dismissed Annelsey." And "sh6 
 did not encourage any of the young men there" that was 
 what the letter said, and it said he was to come at once. 
 
 He had climbed out of the ditch and was brushing the 
 dirt from his overalls with his hands. 
 
 "Mr. Johnson," he said, addressing the neighbor with 
 whom he boarded, " will you let me have your roan horse for 
 a couple of weeks and use my colts while I'm gone? I'm 
 going home and want to make the trip as quickly as possi- 
 ble, and neither of the colts can stand a hard jaunt under the
 
 COULD IT BE POSSIBLE THAT SHE WAS NOT GOING TO MARRY THE 
 NEW YORKER AFTER ALL ! 
 
 232
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 233 
 
 saddle very well. I'll take good care of the roan and pro- 
 mise not to hurt him. If I do you may take your choice of 
 the colts to pay the damage." 
 
 "What's up?" 
 
 " Folks sick ?" 
 
 " Why don't you go to 'Frisco and then take the steamer ?" 
 came from one and another of the crowd. 
 
 "The fact is," replied Erastus, with his usual straight- 
 forward honesty, " I have not got money enough. You fel- 
 lows knov how it is yourselves. Money don't grow on these 
 sand ridges until they are irrigated; but I can ride through 
 in four days by traveling late and early and resting in the 
 hottest part of the day., and not hurt the horse a bit if Mr. 
 Johnson will let. me have him, and it won't cost half as much 
 as it will to go by the cars and boat." 
 
 "You can have the horse if you want him," replied Mr. 
 Johnson. " I know you won't hurt him; but you haven't told 
 us yet who is sick or dead." 
 
 "There's no one sick or dead, boys; but I'm going, and 
 going to start to-night." 
 
 "Girl run away with another fellow 5 " asked one of the 
 men, with a grin. 
 
 "No, my girl hasn't run away with another fellow," 
 replied the young man, with a laugh that some way reminded 
 him of what he had often called the "giggling" of the 
 girls. 
 
 How could he help it when reminded so forcibly of what, 
 up to the moment, he hardly realized; that instead of run- 
 ning away with another fellow as he had expected her to do, 
 his girl had dismissed the other fellow because of her love 
 for him. 
 
 The rough joke sounded irresistibly funny, and withal 
 brought such a delightfully warm feeling to his heart that it
 
 234 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 is no wonder he laughed, or that the laugh was just a trifle 
 hysterical. 
 
 What a terrible mistake there had been. What a wretch 
 he was not to have spoken up when Annelsey first came 
 courting Lucy, and so have saved all this suffering. 
 
 How tender his heart grew, thinking of her who had suf- 
 fered so, who must have suffered so terribly all this time. 
 
 Such were the thoughts that passed through the young 
 man's mind as he walked rapidly towards his boarding place. 
 
 But what if Uncle John was mistaken ? 
 
 He was half-way to the house when this thought came to 
 him, and he stopped and stood perfectly still for some sec- 
 onds, but not stiller than his heart semed to have become. 
 
 "At any rate I'll know the truth," he said aloud, and then 
 mentally, "I played the coward once, I'll not do it again. 
 Uncle John certainly meant me to understand that Lucy 
 loved me well enough to be my wife, and I would be a cra- 
 ven indeed not to ask herself now." 
 
 Going directly to the shed where the roan horse stood, 
 he groomed him carefully, then went to the house and to the 
 low room up-stairs where he slept. 
 
 Here he bathed and changed into his best suit, being 
 careful to see that the few dollars in money which .he pos- 
 sessed were in his pocket book and in his pocket. 
 
 Meantime Mr. Johnson had left the ditch and gone to the 
 little patch of ground a quarter of a mile away, which his 
 wife cultivated as a garden, where he knew her to be at work. 
 
 When told that Erastus was going on a visit to his old 
 home and would start at once, Mrs. Johnson hurried to the 
 house and began preparing a meal before he should go. 
 
 Neither of them asked the young man any questions as 
 to the cause of his sudden going, but both guessed that it was 
 in some way connected with a love affair and were anxious
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 235 
 
 to assist him in every way possible. Mr. Johnson offered to 
 loan him all the money he had, which was less than two dol- 
 lars, and Mrs. Johnson fluttered around, trying to get some- 
 thing a little extra for him to eat, helping him with his neck- 
 tie, and offering to do a dozen other things as if he had sud- 
 denly become a child, or what appeared more likely was 
 going to see his sweetheart, if not, indeed, to get married. 
 And all the time she was trying not to say anything that 
 would show how very anxious she was to have him confide 
 in her, yet hoping greatly that he would do so. 
 
 Erastus, in the first flush of his new found joy, was only 
 restrained from showing Mr. Parsons' letter and making a 
 clean breast of the whole affair by a lingering fear that Uncle v 
 John might be mistaken. 
 
 It was really very hard for him to keep from telling. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Johnson were the best friends he had here at the 
 Slough, and he knew they thought a great deal of him, and 
 he wanted to tell them what a lovely girl Lucy was, but could 
 not quite bring himself to do so even when Mrs. Johnson 
 remarked, as she fixed his necktie, that she "supposed he 
 would soon have someone else to do it for him now," and so 
 he left them wholly in doubt, and mounting the roan rode 
 away in the direction of the foot-hills of the Sierras. 
 
 He curbed his own impatience and the desire of the 
 spirited roan at the start, well knowing that time would be 
 lost and not gained by fast riding for the first hour or 
 two. 
 
 The sun had long since set, when having put thirty-five 
 miles between himself and his starting place, he dismounted, 
 tethered his animal in a spot of wild oats a little off the road, 
 rubbed him down with dry leaves and grass, and rolling him- 
 self in a blanket lay down upon the ground. 
 
 If his body was weary he was not aware of it, for his
 
 236 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 heart was filled with the sweetest hopes; and what sustains 
 the physical powers like hope ? 
 
 As he lay looking up at the stars, and Watching the full 
 moon coming slowly up from behind the distant hills and 
 climbing a sky that had not known a cloud for weeks and 
 weeks, he recalled every incident -of his life from the time 
 when Mr. and Mrs. Parsons had taken him, a poor, outcast 
 boy, to their home and their hearts. 
 
 He thought upon every act of Lucy's which appeared in 
 any degree to indicate her feelings towards himself, and tried 
 to place one against another, the unfavorable against the 
 favorable, in such a way as to enable him to strike a balance 
 and determine just what his chances were. But in this he 
 was conscious of failing, for there were many little instances 
 acts or words the meaning of which he was utterly un- 
 able to determine, which he yet felt certain had a meaning 
 if only he knew upon which side of his love account to 
 place them. Besides, it was so very pleasant to fancy that 
 the favorable ones outnumbered the others, if indeed there 
 were any others, that he could not avoid going off into bliss- 
 ful waking dreams of the future, when he should have got 
 his place at the Slough irrigated, and set in fruits, and 
 have a cottage built. 
 
 He would have a cottage just like the one in the foot- 
 hills, where they had all spent so many pleasant days, he 
 thought; the cottage now abandoned and going to decay. 
 Lucy would be by his side always, and Uncle John and 
 Aunt Martha should bring Johnny and live with them, their 
 honored and beloved guests, and all the misunderstandings 
 and suffering of the past should be forgotten. 
 
 And thus he lay and drew bright pictures of sweet days 
 to come, until from waking dreams he passed to dreams 
 which come in sleep, but they did not greatly differ from
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 237 
 
 each other; the music and the words were just the same 
 were love and Lucy; love and Lucy. 
 
 Although the sun was not yet up, there was no dew upon 
 his blanket or in his hair when he awoke in the morning; 
 for dew seldom falls in this portion of California during the 
 dry season. 
 
 The roan horse had risen from his bed in the tall oats, 
 and had stretched himself and begun again to eat of the 
 rich herbage. 
 
 Erastus led him to drink at a creek which they had 
 crossed but a little way back the night before, again rubbed 
 him down, and leaving him eating, walked to a rancher's 
 shanty, a quarter of a mile away, in quest of his own break- 
 fast. 
 
 He found the family just sitting down to their own meal, 
 explained to them that he had ridden late the night before 
 and had camped out, and was given a cordial invitation to 
 " draw a chair up to the table and help himself," which he 
 very promptly did. 
 
 Breakfast eaten, he offered to pay, but was refused ; 
 gave thanks instead of money, and hurrying back to the 
 place where he had left his horse, fastened his blanket to the 
 saddle, placed both upon the roan, and mounting, resumed 
 his journey. 
 
 Just before noon he stopped at a little town, put up at 
 the hotel, fed and rubbed down his steed, got his own din- 
 ner; and did not mount again until the greatest heat of the 
 day was over. Then he pushed on at a rapid pace until an 
 hour after sunset, when he again tethered his horse and 
 slept upon the ground, as he had done the night before. 
 
 The day following was a repetition of the one which pre- 
 ceded it, but its close found him well up in the foot-hills, and 
 he put up at the cottage of a rancher, with whom he had
 
 238 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 stayed over night when on his way to the Slough the year 
 before. 
 
 In the morning he arose with one thought throbbing in 
 brain and heart, " to-night I shall see her ; to-night I shall 
 know my fate." 
 
 He fed and groomed his horse as usual, but could 
 scarcely wait for breakfast, which was not yet prepared when 
 he returned from the stable. He had eaten a cold lunch for 
 supper, but his impatience conquered all desire for food. 
 He was counting the hours now, and the moments would 
 drag themselves so until he was in the saddle again. 
 
 Rather than appear discourteous or strange, he waited for 
 the morning meal to be prepared, but was off almost before 
 his host had arisen from the table. 
 
 He had ridden seventy-five miles the day before, and had 
 feared the roan might feel a little stiff and sore at starting, 
 but when he saw him come out of the stable with head up, 
 apparently as anxious as himself to be off, this fear vanished, 
 and he determined to push through the remaining forty 
 miles without -baiting. But he found the roads not so good 
 as he had anticipated. 
 
 He was now in a part of the foot-hills with which he was 
 unacquainted, for he no longer followed the road over which 
 he came the year before, but struck across the country by a 
 route which left the old home off to the left, and threw him 
 further up towards the mountains, and when noon came^he 
 was still, from the best information he could get, fully fifteen 
 miles from John Parsons' shanty, and compassion for his 
 horse induced him to stop at a rancher's for feed and rest ; 
 so that with this delay and the trouble which he experienced 
 in learning exactly where the shanty was, even when within 
 a few miles of it, the afternoon was well nigh worn away 
 when he reached the point where the by-road which led to
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 239 
 
 it turned off from the^main track; and even then he was not 
 certain of this being the place. 
 
 He had stopped his horse and was debating with himself 
 whether to turn off or follow the main road yet further, when 
 he saw coming around the spur of the mountain and into 
 the road over which he had just passed, her for love of 
 whom he had come, and the sight sent all the blood in his 
 body surging to his heart, and for the moment he could 
 neither have spoken nor moved. 
 
 Evidently Lucy had not seen him pass, and was not now 
 aware of his presence. 
 
 She had gone to find the cows and drive them home to 
 be milked, and was following along behind them as they 
 lazily moved homeward. 
 
 She was dressed as Erastus had seen her oftenest in the 
 olden time, in a light print dress and sun-bonnet. In her 
 hand she carried a little crooked stick, which she had picked 
 up to drive the cows with, but was paying very little atten- 
 tion to them. Instead she was gazing off upon the hills 
 which stretched away and away, one above another, until they 
 became snow-capped peaks that in the light of the falling 
 sun looked like amethysts set into the cerulean blue of the 
 heavens. 
 
 Had not the cows paused at sight of the man and horse 
 standing in their path she might have reached his side before 
 becoming aware of his presence, but when the cows stopped 
 and stood with their great eyes staring with the least bit of 
 surprise at what was not a very common sight to them in 
 their mountain pastures, she raised her stick and bid them 
 "go-long." Then seeing for the first time a gentleman 
 standing bv the roadside holding his horse by the bridle, she 
 blushed a little beneath her sun-bonnet, and dropping her
 
 240 , DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 eyes, followed closely after the cows, which had again lazily 
 taken up their line of march. 
 
 The blush which suffused her cheeks was not, however, 
 owing to her having recognized the horseman, for she had 
 not done so. She had only glanced at him and then drop- 
 ped her eyes with a feeling of embarrassment, for she seldom 
 met gentlemen now, and however much poets may sing the 
 charms of milkmaids in calico dresses, they will never be able 
 to convince any member of the sex that they look their best in 
 that role, any more than can be taken from them their womanly 
 desire to appear well in the eyes of one of the opposite sex, 
 even though he be an entire stranger, as she supposed this 
 one to be who stood waiting for her approach, presumably 
 that he might inquire the way to some neighboring rancher s 
 shanty, or possibly if her parents would entertain him for the 
 night. 
 
 When within a few paces she raised her eyes and turned 
 her face towards him. 
 
 As she did so he spoke her name and took a step towards 
 her. 
 
 " Lucy ! " 
 
 She stopped suddenly and the little crooked stick fell to 
 the ground while both hands went to her face pushing back 
 the sun-bonnet. 
 
 " Lucy, don't you know me? I've come all the way back 
 to see you; started the moment I got your father's let that 
 is the moment I learned you were not going to marry Mr. 
 Annelsey. I love you, Lucy love you better than anybody 
 or anything in all the world. I have always loved you ever 
 since we were children together, and I want you to be my 
 wife." 
 
 And she only said: "Oh! Ras!" and put her hands to 
 her face and began to cry.
 
 242 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 "Lucy, Lucy, can't you love me ?" pleaded her lover. " I 
 know I am not rich like HE was, but I'll love you always, love 
 you better, it seems to me, than anybody else can love you. 
 Can't you love me Lucy?" 
 
 She put out one little sunburned hand and laid it on his 
 arm. With the other she continued to hide her face. 
 
 "Oh, Ras," she sobbed. "I I do love you; I always 
 d-did, but I thought father wa-wan-wanted me to marry HIM, 
 and that you 1-loved Julia Ennis and then I didn't care. Oh, 
 Ras, I'm so glad you've come." 
 
 And she buried her face on his shoulder. 
 
 With his arms about her, telling her over and over again 
 how dear she was to him, and how it was because he thought 
 she could not love him as he wished that he had gone away, 
 the two might have stood there until the sun had hidden itself 
 from sight behind the mountains and the night had come up 
 from the valley below, but that the roan horse, in his efforts 
 to nibble at the grass by the roadside, jerked so hard upon 
 the bridle which Erastus held upon his arm as to bring them 
 back to a knowledge of their surroundings. 
 
 Then they started slowly homeward along the by-road 
 that wound around the rocks, and over the stones, and in 
 and out of gulleys washed by centuries of rainy seasons. 
 
 So slowly in fact did they go on, that the cows, lazy as 
 they were, had got home and been milked, and Mrs. Parsons 
 had looked many times in the direction from which they 
 came, and in which she knew Lucy had started in search of 
 them, hoping to see her coming Finally, a little worried at 
 her long absence, she suggested to her husband that he go 
 up the mountain a little way and call, and he, quick to take 
 the alarm, was on the point of starting when he saw the 
 lovers approaching; the roan horse following the length of 
 his bridle rein behind.
 
 I KNOWED IT! I KNOWED RAS COULD TAKE A HINT! THAT'S HIM, 
 MARTY, THAT'S RAS, AN' HE AN' LUCY HEV MADE UP. DON'T 
 YOU SEE? HE'S A-HOLDIN' OF HER HAND." 
 
 243
 
 244 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 For a little space John Parsons stood in doubt, then raised 
 his hand to his eyes as if to gather more of the failing light. 
 
 Only an instant he stood so, and then bringing his hand 
 down upon his thigh with a slap, he exclaimed: 
 
 " I knowed it ! I knowed Ras could take a hint ! That's 
 him, Marty, that's Ras, an' he an' Lucy hev made up. 
 Don't ye see? he's a-holdin' of her hand."
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE COTTAGE AT THE SLOUGH. 
 
 A very happy little group it was that sat under the new 
 porch of the shanty until long after the stars came out that 
 night. 
 
 So many changes had taken place; there was so much to 
 talk about, that it was ten o'clock before they once thought 
 of the time, and still they talked on for another hour before 
 retiring the family to their beds and Erastus to a bunk on 
 the floor. 
 
 The young man remained three days with them, and 
 during that time they talked over all matters relating to fam- 
 ily affairs past, present and future. 
 
 Mrs. and Mr. Parsons of course gladly gave their consent 
 to the engagement of the young people, but it was necessary 
 to postpone the wedding until Erastus could get his place 
 irrigated and in shape to produce a living. 
 
 It seemed very hard to part again so soon, but since he 
 could not take Lucy with him, every day spent away from his 
 own ranch delayed their marriage that much the longer. 
 
 And then there would be the pleasure of writing and 
 receiving letters, which of course they would do every week 
 at the farthest. 
 
 The project of selling the mountain ranch and all going 
 to the Slough to live was talked of, and Mr. and Mrs. Par- 
 sons agreed that when Erastus got his place irrigated and 
 was ready to marry, if he was satisfied with the country and 
 the prospect, they would sell their own home and buy again
 
 246 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 as near him as possible, and if not they would both sell and 
 go elsewhere and buy together. 
 
 And thus all were comforted by the thought that Lucy's 
 marriage, when it should occur, would, instead of separating 
 her from her parents, reunite them all with Erastus, and it is 
 probable that for these three days the inmates of the shanty 
 upon the mountain side were as happy as it often falls to the 
 lot of people to be. 
 
 Certainly John Parsons was happy. 
 
 Lucy and Erastus wandered about the place, and through 
 the gulch and up the mountain side together. 
 
 Together they went for the cows, as Lucy had done alone 
 the night Erastus came. 
 
 Erastus helped Mr. Parsons sprout the grape-vines, and 
 Lucy helped Erastus; and if occasionally, as they worked 
 together at a vine, their hands met and their fingers inter- 
 twined it was no more than the tender tendrils of the vine 
 they were trimming did. 
 
 If, as they walked hand in hand over the mountain, or sat 
 to rest in some quiet nook his lips sought hers and drank 
 deep of love's nectar, they only followed the example of the 
 birds that near them billed and cooed, and talked of where 
 their next year's nest should be. 
 
 And have not you, dear reader, done the same? Then 
 have you not known the sweetest and the best thing that life 
 has to give ? 
 
 I will not describe the parting, when at last the day and 
 the hour came, and the roan horse stood ready to be mounted 
 at the door. 
 
 There is enough of sadness and suffering in this true 
 story without dwelling upon the parting of those loving 
 hearts. 
 
 It was noon when Erastus started on his return; it was
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . 247 
 
 night on the fourth day when he led the roan into his stall 
 at the Slough and ate supper with Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, to 
 whom he frankly told the purpose and result of his visit, and 
 from whom he received hearty congratulations. 
 
 The next morning he went back to work on the ditch, 
 and if his companions were ready with their jokes, he was in 
 far too good humor with the world and all things in it to be 
 offended at what he knew was kindly meant. 
 
 For months he worked early and late at the ditch, and 
 when it had been completed, and the water, in its slow seep- 
 ing through the soil, had rendered it capable of sustaining 
 vegetable life, he began planting of trees and vines, and 
 breaking the soil for future crops. When the year closed 
 he found his place beginning to look quite like living. 
 
 He had intended going again to visit Lucy and her 
 parents at this time, but his place still lacked a dwelling, and 
 the little it would cost to make the journey would aid just 
 that much towards buying the material towards the cottage 
 which he had planned, and he finally decided not to go, but 
 instead to take his team and work a month for the rancher 
 who had pastured his colts during two dry seasons; and thus, 
 instead of spending what little he had, obtain enough more 
 to enable him to get the material to begin building with. 
 
 When this was done he procured the assistance of a 
 neighbor who had a few carpenters' tools and some knowl- 
 edge of the trade, and together they framed and sided up 
 the cottage. 
 
 Then he worked at night to finish it. 
 
 Often when thus engaged, after a hard day's work in the 
 field, would he take from his pocket one of Lucy's letters, 
 and sitting upon the work-bench or a saw-horse, re-read the 
 lines he already knew by heart, or lose himself in dreams 
 which those lines gave rise to; then, rousing himself, take
 
 248 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 up his tools and work far into the night, that the cottage 
 might be the sooner completed and the face and form which 
 he now saw only in dreams, be ever present with him in 
 reality. 
 
 At last the cottage was finished and ready for occu- 
 pancy. 
 
 A plain cottage it was; not unlike the one on the moun- 
 tain side, only a little longer, and wider and higher. 
 
 There were two rooms below and one above, and there 
 was a little porch over the front door not long or broad, 
 but sufficient to shade the room from the sun a little and 
 give relief from the bare and inhospitable look which a 
 dwelling without any projection always has. 
 
 He meant to add a larger structure in front in a few years, 
 when his ranch should be fully irrigated and in cultivation, 
 and so reproduce the cottage in the foot-hills in accordance 
 with the plans he had laid the night he slept under the stars 
 on his hastily made visit the time he won Lucy's consent to 
 be his wife; but for this he must wait yet a while. 
 
 And so, with a heart filled with hope and courage, and 
 running over with affection for her who was to return with 
 him as his bride, he took a long look about the cottage, and 
 going out, carefully closed the door behind him that it might 
 not become unfastened during his absence. 
 
 Standing in front of his cottage, he cast his eyes over 
 his ranch with a feeling of pride and satisfaction. 
 
 That which three years before had been a bit of desert 
 was now a farm, with an orchard and vineyard and fertile 
 fields; none of them very large, it is true, but everything 
 there was the work of his own hands, the result of his own 
 energy and economy, and it was something of which he 
 might well be proud. 
 
 When he had taken it all in the cottage and the green
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 249 
 
 fields and the young orchard and vineyard as a picture 
 which he could hold in his memory until he returned, and 
 could describe to Lucy and Uncle John, and Aunt Martha, 
 and Johnny, he turned and walked rapidly away in the 
 direction of Mr. Johnson's. 
 
 He was to start early the next morning, and was to drive 
 his own team; the colts now fully grown and hardened to 
 work. 
 
 He had decided upon this after conferring by letter with 
 Lucy and her parents. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Parsons desired to give as much as possi- 
 ble of the furniture necessary to start the young folks in 
 housekeeping, and they could do this to some extent out of 
 what still remained of that brought from the old home in 
 the foot-hills, and it was just as cheap and a good deal nicer, 
 these lovers thought, to make the journey this way, in their 
 own conveyance, with their household goods packed in the 
 wagon, than to first transport them fifteen miles to Phippsburg, 
 ship them by boat and cars, and then go a long distance 
 after them at the other end of the route. 
 
 Besides, in thus going across country they would have a 
 whole week to spend in each other's company; in which to 
 talk of their love and lay plans for the future. 
 
 It would be -almost as good as a real wedding tour, Lucy 
 decided. 
 
 And so one afternoon the dwellers on the mountain side 
 saw a wagon drawn by a pair of bay horses, whose driver 
 was a dust-covered young man with a sun-tanned face and 
 sandy mustache, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, coming 
 up the by-road which ended at their gate, and knew that the 
 bridegroom had come to claim his bride. 
 
 The place had changed considerably since Erastus had 
 seen it two years before.
 
 250 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 The addition to the shanty had been erected, and with 
 the little porch in front fairly raised it to the dignity of a 
 cottage. 
 
 The rose bushes which Lucy and her mother had planted 
 had grown as all things do grow in that climate and soil; 
 had clambered all over the porch and were in full bloom, 
 having been watered and tended by loving hands. 
 
 Back of the cottage and on either side great hollyhock 
 bushes, with purple and white and yellow blossoms stood 
 " thick as people in a street," and over the low windows, and 
 reaching clear up to the eaves, Madeira vines mingled their 
 soft, green leaves with those of the morning-glories, that in 
 the early hours of the day were sprinkled thick with beauti- 
 ful, bell-shaped flowers. 
 
 In front were long beds of pinks, and verbenas, and lark- 
 spurs, and great crimson-hearted dahlias, that lifted up their 
 faces and bloomed and nodded in the breeze; bent low as if 
 to inhale the fragrance of the mignonette that looked up 
 from the borders of the beds in which they all grew. 
 
 The grape-vines upon the sloping ground above the 
 house had added two years of growth to their stems; and 
 although yet unable to stand erect without the supports to 
 which they were tied, their symmetrical arrangement in rows, 
 together with the richness of their foliage, formed a back- 
 ground that brought out the coloring of as pretty a picture 
 of simple home life as one may hope to see in a long drive 
 in the mountains or foot-hills; and it is in the mountains 
 and the foot-hills that beautiful pictures are to be sought for. 
 Outside of the inclosure and a little further up the 
 mountain, the cows which Lucy had driven home on that 
 blissful evening two years before when Erastus had told her 
 of his love, were quietly chewing their cuds beneath a 
 scraggy, low-branched oak.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 251 
 
 Below, brown in the October sun, lay the stubble field 
 from which the grain had been harvested, and which now 
 stood in a rick near the shed where the horses were munch- 
 ing at their feed. 
 
 Beyond the cottage was the young orchard of peach, 
 and pear, and apple-trees, and over all the cloudless blue 
 sky of California. 
 
 More than a hundred turkeys wandered at will through 
 the orchard, down into the stubble-field, and far up on the 
 mountain side. Or they clustered about the shed and rick of 
 grain, or came with the chickens at feeding time to the bare 
 bit of earth near the kitchen door to receive their portion of 
 the food thrown to them by some member of the family 
 dwelling within the vine-wreathed cottage. 
 
 And here, one morning a week after Erastus' coming, a 
 little party, composed of neighbors and their families, 
 gathered to witness the marriage of the young couple who 
 had plighted their faith two years before, standing in the 
 road while the cows went lazily home without them. 
 
 It was not an assembly such as would have graced a 
 fashionable church in a great city. Not one among them 
 all, perhaps, but would have felt ill at ease in a richly fur- 
 nished parlor of a brown-stone front in New York or 
 Chicago. 
 
 They were common country people husbands and wives 
 who gained their living as John and Martha Parsons gained 
 theirs by the tillage of the soil and the raising of fruits, 
 and grain, and poultry. Young men and maidens, the sons 
 and daughters of these people in the common walks of life, 
 dressed the girls in cheap, light-colored lawns, with maybe 
 a bit of bright ribbon at the throat or about the waist ; the 
 young men in suits of linen or some other light and not 
 costly fabric, and all of them with hands and faces tanned
 
 252 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 by the sun, but with hearts that throbbed as quickly at 
 whisperings of love, or capable of feeling as keenly the 
 stings of unjust criticism as if they were robed in velvet, 
 with diamonds sparkling upon soft, white hands. 
 
 Before these friends and neighbors, Lucy, dressed much 
 as the other maidens were dressed, only that her robe of 
 pure white was of finer material, and without ornament 
 except some roses upon her breast and in her beautiful dark 
 hair, stood up with Erastus and gave the responses that 
 made them husband and wife as they were propounded by 
 the gray-haired minister whose services had been secured 
 for the occasion. 
 
 The kisses and congratulations over, and the tears which 
 would come in spite of her determination not to let them, 
 dried upon the cheek of the bride, they all sat down to a 
 meal at which there was a bride's cake, of course, and a 
 cold roast turkey, and great mealy potatoes, and the most 
 beautiful bread. 
 
 There was fruit also ; the first borne by the trees and 
 vines planted, since coming to the place, by the hands that 
 sought out and plucked these, the occasional first offerings 
 found scattered here and there among the foliage. 
 
 And afterwards there were kisses and hand-shakes again, 
 and foldings of the bride to the bosom of father and mother, 
 and tears in the eyes of all, and fervent " God bless 
 you's." 
 
 And then Lucy was helped to a seat in the wagon, over 
 which a canvas cover had been stretched and into which the 
 little store of household goods which formed her dowry had 
 been packed. Then her husband climbed up by her side 
 and amid wavings of handkerchiefs and more " God bless 
 you's," they drove down the lane and out upon the road 
 which led away over the mountain and the foot-hills
 
 OR. JUST A CAMPIN . 253 
 
 towards the new cottage which awaited their coming at the 
 Slough. 
 
 Oh, what a happy, happy journey was that for seven 
 whole bright October days ; traveling by easy stages during 
 the day, and camping out, sleeping in the wagon at night ! 
 
 What beautiful bits of scenery they pointed out to each 
 other ! How they laughed over the little incidents of the 
 journey or the camp, as the tipping over of their coffee- 
 kettle while getting their evening meal in some quiet little 
 grove, after the day's drive. 
 
 What memories of the longer journey across the plains 
 when they were children came back to them as they watched 
 the camp-fire smouldering in the darkness, and the twink- 
 ling of the stars overhead ; and what beautiful secrets they 
 disclosed to each other as proofs of their mutual love and 
 confidence ! And when, on the evening of the last day's 
 journey, they drove up to the Johnson shanty, what a hearty 
 greeting Mrs. and Mr. Johnson gave to the young bride 
 who had come to make glad the home of her husband, and 
 to be a neighbor and friend among neighbors and friends ! 
 
 And when, after a hearty meal of the best that could be 
 found in the house, they went to take a look at their own 
 home, walking hand in hand across the fields, with what 
 pride Erastus pointed out the boundaries of his own claim ; 
 to the vineyard, and orchard, and fields, made fruitful by 
 the water that, coming through the open ditches cut by his 
 own hands and those of his neighbors, was fast turning the 
 desert into a garden. 
 
 And the cottage ; how pleased Lucy professed to be 
 really was with its appearance and conveniences ! What 
 pleasure they took in deciding just where each piece of 
 furniture should be placed ! They would have a carpet on 
 the larger down stairs room, and the bureau and the best
 
 254 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 chairs should go in that ; and the small table, with a few 
 books, should stand near the center of it. Lucy's guitar 
 should hang on the wall with Erastus' flageolet, and just as 
 soon as they could they would get a few pictures to help 
 make the room look still more bright and tasty. Their bed 
 they would put up stairs, and until they could build larger, 
 would eat in the kitchen, or, in pleasant weather, out of 
 doors, and so keep the best room always cosy and nice. 
 
 And so, still planning for the future, yet perfectly happy 
 in the present, they returned as they came, hand in hand 
 across lots to Mr. Johnson's, where they were to spend the 
 night. 
 
 On the morrow Mr. Johnson helped Erastus to unload 
 the few heavy articles and place them in the cottage and 
 then went away, and together the young couple put down 
 the carpet and arranged the furniture, returning to Mrs. 
 Johnson's to dinner as that lady insisted that they should do. 
 
 Indeed, she would have had them remain with herself 
 and husband for a week, "until they got rested from their 
 journey," as she said, but to this they could not think of 
 consenting. 
 
 They were both anxious to get into their own house, that 
 they might together take up the work of making still more 
 beautiful and productive the spot upon which they expected 
 to remain all their lives.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 255 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE THREATENING WHIRLWIND. 
 
 The year that followed was a very happy one to the 
 young couple, working away upon their claim at the Slough. 
 
 True, they were poor, and were forced to live very eco- 
 nomically; but what was poverty when they had love, and 
 health, and the assurance that poverty would be vanquished 
 in a very few years more ? 
 
 It lacked less than two years of the time when they could 
 "prove up" and get a government patent to their land under 
 the homestead act, and by that time they would have almost as 
 fine a fruit and vegetable ranch as the state afforded; for 
 here the frost never comes, and with all fear of drouth ban- 
 ished by the certainty of an abundant supply of water from 
 the river through the irrigating ditches, prosperity seemed 
 assured beyond any possibility of failure. 
 
 Then, too, a branch of the Southern Pacific railroad was 
 being built near them, and would be completed, and furnish 
 means of transportation for everything they raised, by the 
 time their trees and vines were in full bearing. 
 
 And they had good neighbors, which added much to the 
 pleasantness of their surroundings; for though never content 
 to be separate from each other, even for a day, our young 
 friends enjoyed having their acquaintances drop in on them, 
 and often visited among their neighbors, spending the even- 
 ing or Sunday afternoon. 
 
 They heard regularly from Lucy's parents, and quite fre- 
 quently from Jennie and her husband, who were still in Chi-
 
 256 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 cago and doing well. At least Ensign had steady employ- 
 ment, and they were comfortable and happy. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Parsons had now fully decided to sell their 
 home on the mountain at the first opportunity, and move to 
 the Slough; their out-of-the-way location alone operating 
 against the ready sale of the place. 
 
 Meantime Erastus and Lucy worked on. 
 
 The size of orchard and vineyard was increased by the 
 planting of other trees and vines. Rose-bushes were set out 
 at the corners of the porch and beneath the windows, and 
 evergreens and flowering shrubs in the front yard. 
 
 The main irrigating ditch having been completed the year 
 before, the work of carrying the water wherever needed, by 
 means of small side ditches, was comparatively easy and rapid, 
 so that some pretty broad fields of grain and grass were 
 beginning to stretch away on every side of their cottage. 
 
 But now came a terrible rumor. 
 
 It was told doubtingly at first, as something that could 
 hardly be possible that the Pacific Railroad Company laid 
 claim to the lands about the Slough, and would compel pay- 
 ment of their present market value, all improvements 
 included, or evict the homesteaders from possession. 
 
 The settlers quite generally laughed at the tale, as being 
 started by someone for the purpose of giving them a fright. 
 
 "What!" they said, "the railroad company claim our 
 lands ! Why, the land was absolutely valueless, thought not 
 to be worth paying taxes on, until we irrigated it and built 
 houses and put out orchards and vineyards. 
 
 " Besides, the land grant by Congress was made to a com- 
 pany whose charter fixed the line of their road more than a 
 hundred miles away, on the other side of a range of moun- 
 tains; and even this grant the company has forfeited long 
 ago, the time in which the road was to be built in order to
 
 OR, JUST A C AMPIN . 2$ 7 
 
 obtain the land having expired two years since, and the road 
 is not built yet." 
 
 It seemed absurd for anybody to talk about a railroad 
 company having a claim to their lands, when they had 
 redeemed them from the desert, and were almost ready to 
 prove up on them under the homestead and pre-emption 
 laws. 
 
 Yet there were those who were less easily disarmed of 
 fear. 
 
 They knew that in Iowa a railroad company had dispos- 
 sessed settlers who had actually proved up and received 
 deeds to their homes from government. 
 
 There were those among them, too, who had suffered from 
 the overflow of hydraulic mines, others from the Suscol 
 Ranch, and yet others who had suffered from the encroach- 
 ments of corporations in other states and other portions of 
 this state, and these were prepared to believe that nothing 
 was too preposterous for the railroad company to claim, if 
 its officers thought there was the remotest chance of enforc- 
 ing it, either by fair means or foul. 
 
 When Erastus Hemmingway heard the rumor his heart 
 sunk, for he had seen too much of the heartlessness and 
 greed of corporations not to fear the worst, and he at once 
 took steps to ascertain the truth. 
 
 He wrote to the headquarters of the company, repeating 
 what he had heard, and asking if there was any truth in the 
 statement that the company professed to have any claim to 
 the land in the vicinity of the Slough. 
 
 In reply he received a letter and also a circular. 
 
 The letter was signed by Leland Stanford, president of 
 
 the railroad company, and was to the effect that the company 
 
 hoped to be allowed the original grant of lands made by 
 
 Congress in aid of the road, but the boundaries of the grant 
 
 17
 
 258 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 had not been determined, and probably would not be for 
 some time. 
 
 Meanwhile, the letter went on to say, the settlers could 
 be assured that in no case should they be the losers, as, if it 
 should eventually be determined that the land which they 
 occupied was within the limits of the grant to the road, the 
 company pledged itself to transfer it to the occupants on pay- 
 ment of the government price, and attention was called to the 
 accompanying circular, copies of which, the letter said, were 
 being issued and distributed all over the state for the purpose 
 of inducing people to take up land at the Slough. This cir- 
 cular also contained a pledge that if found to be within the 
 grant of Congress to the road, the company would transfer 
 the land to whoever had improved it, immediately on pay- 
 ment of the government price. 
 
 This letter, taken in connection with the circulars, which 
 were scattered freely among the settlers, if it did not remove 
 all feeling of fear from the minds of Erastus and a few others, 
 did serve to allay the general alarm, which was before on the 
 increase, and improvements went on as usual. 
 
 The circulars of the company sent to other portions of 
 the state had the desired effect, and very soon other families 
 began to come in in considerable numbers, all taking up 
 claims and relying upon the printed pledges of the company 
 that in no case should the land cost them more than the price 
 asked by government for wild land. 
 
 So time sped on. 
 
 And now those who came first to the Slough began to 
 reap abundantly of the fruit of their labor and perseverance. 
 
 The work of turning a veritable desert into a garden had 
 been accomplished. It had been done, too, without capital, 
 and by men who were forced to support themselves and 
 their families while the transformation was being made.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 259 
 
 Orchards and vineyards were loaded with fruit. Olives 
 and apples, peaches, plums, apricots, pears, pineapples, lem- 
 ons, pomegranates, nectarines all the semi-tropical fruits, 
 and some which grow nowhere else outside of the tropics 
 themselves, were to be found in full bearing upon the irri- 
 gated lands of the settlers at Mussel Slough. 
 
 Green fields grew broader and greener. Little flocks 
 and herds of cattle and sheep were to be seen feeding on 
 the rich vegetation which came with the water that over- 
 spread the land from the system of irrigating ditches; and 
 as the result of all this, new and pretty cottages were taking 
 the place of the wretched huts in which nearly all had been 
 forced to live during the first years of their residence; and 
 it was in the midst of this prosperity, when want had been 
 banished by years of patient, persevering toil, and they were 
 rejoicing over troubles past, and the thought that for the 
 rest of their days they could take life easy, that the stroke 
 came which turned all their joy into mourning, and changed 
 the current of their blood from the peaceful flow of quiet, 
 happy hearts to a seething flood in hearts made hot with fear 
 and hatred. 
 
 This was no rumor from an unknown source that reached 
 their ears, awaking doubt in some and ridicule in others. It 
 was not the faint murmuring of a distant storm that might 
 never reach them, but the sudden rush of the whirlwind; 
 the flash of the lightning, the falling of the thunderbolt from 
 a sunny sky. It came as a notice from the railroad company 
 to each settler, informing him that he was a trespasser on 
 the lands of the company, and must immediately vacate 
 unless he was prepared to pay the value of the lands occu- 
 pied by him, which had been carefully appraised, so the 
 notice read, by competent judges, whose estimate of the 
 value of each quarter-section accompanied the notice.
 
 260 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 This appraisement ranged from ten to thirty-five dollars 
 per acre; that of Erastus Hemmingway being thirty dollars 
 per acre, or a total of four thousand eight hundred dollars, 
 which he was asked to pay to the railroad company for the 
 land he had redeemed from the desert; or failing therein 
 was ordered to at once vacate the premises. 
 
 The excitement which the receipt of these notices caused 
 can be imagined. 
 
 Threats of vengeance upon the officers of the company 
 were both loud and frequent, and had they been present, 
 there is no question as to what their fate would have been. 
 Death in some form would unquestionably have been meted 
 out to them. 
 
 But they were careful not to be present. 
 
 They had deliberately laid, and were now executing, a 
 plan to rob these people of their homes, and they were too 
 cunning to come within reach of their victims while the first 
 hot flush of righteous anger was upon them. 
 
 With the power which their immense wealth, the gift of 
 Congress, gave them, they did not fear the courts or the 
 state authorities. 
 
 They already controlled these, and were prepared to bribe 
 or threaten, as they deemed most likely to accomplish their 
 ends, any official who stood in the way of their plans for 
 wholesale robbery. 
 
 The leaders in the plot -stood high in social and political 
 circles. 
 
 Stanford, the president of the company, had been Gov- 
 ernor of the State, and it was while filling this exalted posi- 
 tion that he first began to lay plans for the subjugation of 
 the people, and in Huntington and Crocker he had able 
 partners and unscrupulous allies. 
 
 The settlers had small means of making the outrage upon
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 261 
 
 their rights known, and their cause was, indeed, desperate, 
 and it is small wonder, when in every dwelling at the Slough 
 were women whose eyes were red with weeping, that there 
 should be men whose lips uttered curses, and whose muscles 
 twitched with eagerness to lay hand upon the authors of 
 their woe. 
 
 Only a few days before the notices to pay or vacate 
 reached the settlers, Erastus and Lucy had received a letter 
 from Mrs. Parsons saying that they had at last found a 
 probable purchaser for their place. 
 
 They would know in a few days, she wrote, and if they 
 sold they should pack up and start for the Slough at once, as 
 they did not wish, even if the purchaser of the property 
 would permit, to remain on the mountain through the winter. 
 It would seem more lonely than ever when the place was no 
 longer their own. 
 
 The only thing that would delay their coming, if they 
 sold, was Johnny's health. 
 
 The boy had not been as well as common the past sum- 
 mer, and had been quite sick recently, but was getting better 
 now, and she thought would be able to be moved, and if 
 they sold she would take him and start at once by boat, leav- 
 ing Mr. Parsons to drive across with their household goods, 
 as Erastus and Lucy had done. 
 
 The reception of this news had caused much pleasure to 
 the young couple, who were both desirous of having their 
 parents near them. 
 
 Lucy was especially anxious for the presence of her 
 mother at this time, and hastened to reply, urging that they 
 sell if they could get anything like a fair price, and that they 
 come at once. 
 
 But when the determination of the railroad corporation 
 to rob them of their own home became known to them, they
 
 262 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 felt it would be better for their parents not to sell, at least 
 for the present; and Lucy again wrote, telling her parents of 
 the difficulty they were in, and that if they had not sold, it 
 might be better not to do so. 
 
 It was a hard thing to do, and the poor young wife had 
 often to pause and wipe away the tears that blinded her eyes 
 as she wrote of their troubles thinking, too, of the sorrow 
 it would bring to the hearts of the old people upon the 
 mountain side. 
 
 She was expecting to become a mother soon, and all the 
 sweet joy with which she had been looking forward to the 
 coming of the babe, had given place to a terrible fear of 
 what the future might have in store for them all. 
 
 Erastus had not been loud in his threats, as had others. 
 Indeed he had not threatened at all; but he was not a man 
 of many words. And she had not forgotten how at the 
 Suscol Ranch, when but a boy, he had taken her mother and 
 Mrs. Ritchie with the children, of which she was one, to a 
 place of safety and then returned to defend the cottage with 
 his life. And now the thought kept coming to her, " What 
 if the company should actually attempt the eviction of the 
 settlers and Erastus should again defend their home, and be 
 killed ?" 
 
 She tried to put the thought from her, but it kept coming 
 back, each time with increasing strength, until it came almost 
 to be a conviction. She knew, or thought she knew, that if 
 efforts were made at an eviction, her husband would call upon 
 his neighbors to defend their homes with their lives, and 
 would set them the example. 
 
 It was a horrible thought. But it came and it clung to 
 her; and though she tried hard not to make her letter to her 
 parents be without a gleam of hope, she yet felt when it was 
 vvntten and sealed that she had failed, and was still further
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 263 
 
 depressed by the thought of the effect it would have upon 
 those to whom it was to be sent; and especially upon her 
 father, who she knew would bear the blow even less stoutly 
 than her mother. 
 
 Meantime the verbal sale of the mountain ranch had been 
 concluded between Mr. and Mrs. Parsons and the gentleman 
 of whom Mrs. Parsons had written. 
 
 They were to receive two thousand dollars cash down and 
 to give immediate possession; and on the morning but one 
 following that on which Lucy's second letter was mailed, 
 John Parsons started to town with the deed made out, and 
 signed by his wife. 
 
 He was to meet the purchaser at the court-house in 
 Phippsburg, deliver the deed and receive the money, pro- 
 vided the title was found to be clear, of which there was no 
 doubt in the minds of either party ; the abstract, which 
 Blake gave to Parsons when he bought the property, having 
 been shown as proof of that fact when negotiations for the 
 purchase and sale were first begun. 
 
 The sky looked cloudy and threatening when he left 
 home, but it would not do to fail of being at the appointed 
 place on time, and he kissed his crippled boy and his 
 wife and left in good spirits, promising to be back by 
 dark. 
 
 On reaching town he put out his horse, saw that he was 
 properly fed, and then started for the court-house. 
 
 On his way there he had to pass the post-office, and stop- 
 ping to inquire if there was any mail for him, was handed 
 Lucy's letter to her mother. 
 
 He recognized the post-mark and opened it at once, 
 not a common proceeding with him, for his eyes were no 
 longer good, and even where letters came addressed to him- 
 self instead of his wife, he usually preferred to wait until he
 
 264 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 got home and then have her read them aloud while he ate 
 supper, or smoked his pipe and rested. 
 
 But now something impressed him with the thought that 
 he had better open the letter. He had a feeling that per- 
 haps all was not right at the Slough. 
 
 Perhaps it was because it had been only a few days since 
 they had received a letter from there, and so were not ex- 
 pecting another so soon. 
 
 Tearing off the envelope he began to read, but had not 
 proceeded far before his hand trembled so that he could not 
 hold the paper still enough to see the letters, and he folded 
 it up and put it into his pocket. 
 
 He had read enough, however, to understand what had 
 befallen his children. 
 
 He knew that they were to be driven from their home, as 
 he and they had so often been before, by the merciless greed 
 of soulless corporations, or combinations of rich men whose 
 hearts had turned to stone beneath the weight of their 
 immense wealth. 
 
 For a moment it seemed to him that he should die right 
 there, and those who were looking saw him stagger like a 
 drunken man, but he rallied at once and went out without a 
 word. 
 
 The thought that the cottage on the mountain side was 
 still theirs, and would afford an asylum for the children, had 
 come to him, and he was hastening to tell the would-be pur- 
 chaser that under the circumstances they could not let him 
 have the place. 
 
 It was fortunate that the bargain was not closed, he 
 thought. How lucky that he had opened the letter instead 
 of waiting until he got home ! 
 
 They could all live comfortably in the cottage together, 
 and he and Marty should have those dearest always with
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 265 
 
 them the little while they should continue to live, and by 
 them to close their eyes when they died, and no one would 
 disturb them on the mountain side, which was so secluded 
 and lonely that hardly anybody appeared to want to live 
 there. Yes, it was very fortunate that the bargain had not 
 been closed, and he would pay the man for his trouble and 
 ask to be released. 
 
 Entering the court-house he went directly to the record- 
 er's office. 
 
 The gentleman whom he expected to meet was already 
 there, and in company with the recorder was looking over 
 the records. 
 
 Without so much as bidding them good morning, John 
 Parsons began to say that he had changed his mind and 
 wished to be released from his verbal contract, but before he 
 could make his meaning understood the gentleman who had 
 contracted for the place said: 
 
 "How is this, Mr. Parsons ? I find a mortgage on your 
 place. I understood you to say it was clear of all incum- 
 brances." 
 
 "A-a mortgage ! " 
 
 The words came in a whisper from lips that were blood- 
 less, which the other did not notice, for his eyes were upon 
 the volume of records, and he answered: 
 
 "Yes. A mortgage for fifteen hundred dollars with 
 interest for six years, unless it has been paid; making a total 
 of about the amount I was to pay you for the place. The 
 mortgage seems to have been given by Mr. Blake to a Mr. 
 Jones, of San Francisco, and " 
 
 But he did not conclude the sentence, for at that instant 
 the two men at the desk heard a groan, and turning, saw 
 John Parsons fall to the floor as if dead. 
 
 They picked him up and laid him on a bench, and one of
 
 1 A A MORTGAGE! " 
 266 .
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 267 
 
 them ran for the doctor, while the other attempted to pour 
 some whiskey down his throat from a flask. 
 
 In a moment he revived, and when the doctor came run- 
 ning in, followed by a crowd of business men and idlers, was 
 sitting up with his head leaning upon his hands, his elbows 
 upon his knees. As the crowd entered he looked up for an 
 instant and then resumed his former position, but that instant 
 sufficed to show to those present a face so haggard that not 
 one among them all recognized it as the face of John Par- 
 sons, the owner of the mountain ranch. 
 
 The doctor advanced and laid a hand upon the wrist of 
 the stricken man, as if to feel his pulse. 
 
 Then John Parsons again raised his head, and with an 
 effort arose to his feet. 
 
 " It ain't no use, Doc.," he said, recognizing the physi- 
 cian as one who had attended Johnny in his recent illness. 
 "It ain't no use," he repeated, "it's the heart that's ailin' an' 
 there ain't no medicine that'll do it any good; leastwise 
 nothin' you kin give. The children is bein' robbed of their 
 home just as their parents has been afore 'em, and there ain't 
 any hope, and there ain't anything left to live fer. 
 
 ' I thought when I read the letter jest now that we could 
 all live together somehow on our own little ranch, but it 
 'pears that it is to be tuck from us too though I don't know 
 how it comes. I have an abstract that I got out of this very 
 office when I bought the place and it says there weren't no 
 mortgage onto it then, but now there 'pears to be one for all 
 it's wo'th, an' they'll take it of course, an' there ain't no place 
 left where an honest man kin take them as is dependent on 
 him. It would be better if we was all dead, an' I 'spect we 
 will be purty soon. 
 
 " The railroad company'll turn Erastus an' Lucy out, an' 
 the girl'll die, maybe, for want of a shelter, when her baby
 
 268 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 comes to be born, an' her father won't have any shelter to 
 offer her ; fer ef they were mean enough to mortgage the 
 place and then sell it, they'll be devils enough to turn an old 
 man an' woman an' a crippled boy out the minute they want 
 possession." 
 
 All this was said in a tone of voice and manner that 
 showed, even more than his words, how utterly broken and 
 hopeless the man was, and when he ceased speaking he 
 staggered again, and those about him thought he would 
 have fallen; but he gathered his energies, made his way 
 through the crowd, which opened to let him pass, went to the 
 stable, and replacing the saddle on his horse, mounted him 
 and turned his face toward home. 
 
 The moment he left the recorder's office, a dozen voices 
 were heard eagerly demanding to know the details of the 
 affair. 
 
 The man who was to have bought the place could tell 
 nothing beyond the fact that on examining the records he 
 had discovered a mortgage against it for about the value of 
 the property. 
 
 " It seemed strange," he said, "that the mortgage should 
 be there and have escaped the eye, not only of Mr. Parsons 
 himself, but of the maker of the abstract which he received 
 from Mr. Blake. There is evidently a mistake somewhere. 
 Possibly the mortgage has been paid and the mortgagee has 
 neglected to cancel it on the books in the office; if so and it 
 can be proved, it can all be made right yet." 
 
 Then somebody suggested that Mr. Parsons be called 
 back and an effort made to ascertain the facts. 
 
 " It is a pity to let the old man suffer so, if it is only a 
 mistake and the mortgage has been paid," they said; and a 
 half dozen of them started at once to call to Mr. Parsons to
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 269 
 
 stay and try to learn all the facts, but the recorder, who 
 had remained silent during the discussion, now spoke: 
 
 " It's no use, men, " he said, " the mortgage is there, and 
 there is no doubt but it will take the place, unless the old 
 man can raise the money to pay it off. 
 
 " You know I have only been in office less than a year. 
 When I came in here I got to looking over the books back a 
 piece and I found things a little bit mixed, and set to work 
 to straighten 'em up. Among other things I stumbled onto 
 this mortgage. It was recorded all right, but it wasn't in- 
 dexed, and you know a man might hunt for a week through 
 these books and not find a thing that wasn't in the index. 
 Besides, no one would ever think of doing so, as every mort- 
 gage is supposed to appear in the index under the name both 
 of the maker and the mortgagee. 
 
 " I thought at the time that like enough trouble would 
 come of the blunder, which is the fault of old Puterbaugh, 
 who was recorder at the time it occurred. He was never 
 sober two days at a stretch, and ought never to have been 
 elected, but he managed somehow to get the nomination, 
 and then we had to vote for him or go back on the party ; 
 and you know we couldn't do that. 
 
 " Well, as I was saying, I thought like as not Parsons 
 never knew of that mortgage being there, but I hadn't the 
 heart to mention it, and it wasn't any of my business any- 
 way, and I really hoped it had been paid and would never 
 give him any trouble. But about a week ago a fellow 
 was here from Frisco you remember him, Jo?" he said, in- 
 terrupting himself and addressing the landlord of the hotel, 
 who was one of the crowd " that fellow with a stove-pipe 
 hat and a suit of brown velvet clothes. He stopped with 
 you ?"
 
 270 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 " Yes," replied the landlord, " I remember him. He was 
 there to dinner and supper and left on the down boat." 
 
 "Well," continued the recorder, "that was Blake's broth- 
 er-in-law. I don't know whether he is as big a rascal as 
 Blake was or not, but anyway it seems that Blake got hard 
 up and borrowed fifteen hundred dollars of this brother-in- 
 law and gave a mortgage on that place up there for security. 
 " It was more than the ranch was worth at the time, but I 
 reckon Blake was in a fix where he had to have that amount, 
 and as that was all the security he had to give, his brother- 
 in-law let him have it. Maybe he never went to look at the 
 place at all, but just took Blake's say-so for what the prop- 
 erty was worth. 
 
 " Well, after a bit, Blake, who was always looking over 
 the records to see if he couldn't strike a lead of some kind, 
 happened to stumble onto the fact that old Puterbaugh 
 hadn't indexed that mortgage, and he made up his mind to 
 sell the place to somebody else and leave the country. 
 
 " He knew no one would be likely to see the mortgage 
 in making an abstract, and if they did discover it, why he 
 would say it had been paid and destroyed, but the party had 
 neglected to cancel it on the records. Then he would 
 bluster around, pretending to be looking for the party who 
 had. held it in order to have the matter fixed up, but would 
 never be able to find him, and pretty soon the man who was 
 going to buy the place would get sick of waiting and go off 
 somewhere else, or buy another place, and the whole thing 
 would be forgotten. 
 
 " At least, that's the way I figure it all out, and I reckon 
 I ain't very far from right." 
 
 " But how does it come that this brother-in-law hasn't 
 put in a claim for his interest money all this time ? " .asked 
 one of the bystanders. " If his claim on the place is good,
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 27! 
 
 he has been losing a pile of dust by not collectin' his interest 
 from year to year." 
 
 "Well, maybe so, and then again maybe not," returned 
 the recorder. "You see, the improvements Parsons has 
 put on the place is worth a good deal more than the interest. 
 Besides, this brother-in-law may not have known that Blake 
 had sold the place, and was just making it easy on Blake, as 
 he -supposed. 
 
 " Anyway, the mortgage is there, and if you'll step over 
 to Tom Anderson's office I guess you'll find that he has the 
 job of foreclosing it in the next term of court, which begins 
 the second Monday of next month, and that he has already 
 sent notice to the News for publication, as required by law." 
 
 " It's an outrage on the old man with the crippled 
 boy," remarked one, as the crowd dispersed, "and Blake 
 ought to swing for it. If he was back again, I'd be one to 
 help do it." 
 
 "And I," "and I," "and I," echoed a dozen voices. 
 
 But Blake was not there, and will doubtless take good 
 care never to go back. If living still, he is probably to be 
 found in New York, or some other great city, running some 
 swindling institution by means of which he obtains a living. 
 He may even have amassed a fortune, and if so, should be 
 looked for, if wanted, among the presidents of savings banks, 
 or managers of some corporate monopoly, robbing the peo- 
 ple under the shelter of the law.
 
 272 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEAJ 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 OVER THE RANGE. 
 
 It was three o'clock on a short October day when John 
 Parsons left Phippsburg on his return to the cottage where 
 his wife and crippled boy awaited him. 
 
 He did not call it home did not think of it as such now. 
 
 Another held a claim against it for all it was worth in 
 money, and his past experience led him to expect no mercy. 
 
 He had not stopped to ascertain who held the mortgage, 
 or anything about it, further than that it existed and was 
 for a sum greater than he could, by any possibility, raise. 
 
 He had no hope that it might prove a mistake in any 
 way ; that it might have been paid and not canceled. He 
 accepted it as what he ought really to have expected would 
 happen sooner or later, for he had come to believe that the 
 poor, those who labored in any way for a living, were looked 
 upon as legitimate prey by a set of men who had by some 
 means obtained control of the courts and of State and 
 National legislatures, and who in one way or another but 
 always under the guise of law would rob the people just as 
 men rob the honey bees, taking the honey, but letting the 
 bees live, in order that they might store up more honey for 
 the robbers when their turn comes for being robbed again. 
 And so from the first mention of a mortgage he gave up all 
 hope, regarding it as but another of the ways of which ex- 
 perience had taught him that there were many of taking 
 from him and his their little accumulations; and but one 
 thought, one impulse remained to get back where his wife
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 273 
 
 and crippled boy were and die in their presence and with 
 them. 
 
 His brain seemed incapable of thought. There was a 
 numbness about his whole body that made it difficult for him 
 to retain his seat in the saddle, and several persons who saw 
 him pass, swaying to and fro in his seat, thought that for 
 once he had been drinking and had taken more liquor than 
 he could well carry. 
 
 But he was not drunk. He was crushed. 
 
 All hope had fled, never to return again. No ray of 
 light came to him from any source. 
 
 He paid no heed to the inquiring looks of those whom 
 he met as he passed through the streets of the little town 
 and took the road leading up into the mountains; no atten- 
 tion to the guidance of the animal which he rode. 
 
 He had no clearly defined idea of what he should do or 
 say when he reached the spot where his wife and Johnny 
 were, or of how they could bear the terrible news. 
 
 He felt isolated from the entire world; was unconscious 
 of what was passing around him or of the rapidly gathering 
 storm overhead. 
 
 His one dim idea was to get to where his wife and boy 
 were; and I think he really expected that once there they 
 would all go away out of the cottage and out of the world 
 that they would all die together, and at once. 
 
 There seemed to be no place in this world for them, and 
 yet they were ordered to "move on." Where else could 
 they go to except to the other world ; and who else but 
 Death was to point the way, or be their guide upon the 
 journey ? 
 
 And Erastus and Lucy were to go too, and would take 
 the little baby that was not yet born, for they were without 
 a home also they, too, had been ordered to "move on." 
 i
 
 274 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Then he wondered if Jennie and her husband were to go 
 with them, and he was not quite sure about it. They would 
 follow pretty soon, of course; for all who tried to get their 
 living by work would be ordered to " move on " sooner or 
 later; but it did not appear that they were to die at once, as 
 he and Martha and Johnny, and Lucy and Erastus and the 
 baby must do. 
 
 When the clouds, which had been gathering all day, 
 broke at last, and the rain poured down in torrents, he did 
 not seem to know it. 
 
 He was wet to the skin in an instant, but he was not 
 conscious of it. His rubber coat remained tied to the back 
 of the saddle, where he had fastened it in the morning before 
 starting. 
 
 The water ran from his person and filled his boots, his 
 horse placed his nose close to the earth and plodded on 
 blindly in face of the storm, but his rider sat the same, one 
 hand upon the loosened rein and the other hanging idly at 
 his side; his eyes fixed upon the ground just in advance, 
 but seeing nothing, taking no note of anything. 
 
 Left to his own will, the horse plodded on through the 
 mud and rain at a walk. Before they were half way home 
 night had set in night as black as clouds and falling rain 
 could make it. 
 
 Soon the water, still falling in torrents, began to fill the 
 gulches with floods of the color of clay; floods which bub- 
 bled, and seethed, and roared their way down the hillsides 
 and across the road, forming a frothy line of white, the only 
 thing visible in the pitch darkness. 
 
 And still the horse plodded onward, fording the streams 
 as he came to them; scrambling up the steep and slippery 
 inclines where the road wound round the mountain side, 
 avoiding, either by instinct or that peculiar power of seeing
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 275 
 
 in the dark which some horses possess, the deep gullies cut 
 by the rushing water in the clay of the roadbed; and still 
 the rider sat motionless save as he swayed to and fro with 
 the movements of the animal which he rode and looked 
 straight forward into the night. 
 
 Suddenly, when they were about two-thirds of the way 
 up the mountain, there came a flash of lightning, followed by 
 a clap of thunder which seemed to rend the very earth, and 
 echoed and re-echoed from peak to peak, and then went 
 rumbling down the ravines and gorges, finally dying out 
 miles and miles away among the foot-hills. 
 
 Many people have lived for years in California and never 
 heard a clap of thunder or seen a vivid flash of lightning. 
 A friend of the author's who lived for twenty years, a part 
 of the time in the foot-hills and a part in the valley, informs 
 him that never but once in all that time did she know the 
 elements to be thus at war. 
 
 It is no wonder, then, when the flash of lightning came, 
 and the mountains shook with the roar of the thunder, that 
 the steady old horse which John Parsons rode should be 
 frightened into springing suddenly to one side, throwing his 
 rider, and with his nostrils distended and head and tail in 
 the air dash away in the darkness, leaving him lying stunned 
 by the roadside. 
 
 How long he lay there John Parsons never knew; nobody 
 ever will know, unless the angels who watch over each of us 
 have made a record of it as part of the account against those 
 whose greed sent a fellow mortal on that journey up the 
 mountain through the worst storm known for years, with his 
 brain turned by the knowledge of his loss, and all the blood 
 in his body congesting about his heart. And if the angels 
 do keep such account, there must be added to it the suffer- 
 ings of Martha Parsons, as she watches by the cot of their
 
 276 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 crippled child grown dangerously ill since morning watches 
 and waits, and listens in vain for some sound that shall tell 
 her that, through the storm and the darkness, her husband 
 is safe at home at last. 
 
 Johnny, as his mother had written Lucy, had been grow- 
 ing weaker for some months, and had finally appeared so 
 bad that his parents had taken alarm and called a physician; 
 but as the lad seemed to rally under the prescription left him, 
 they had ceased to fear any serious results. But now that 
 the effect of the medicine had spent itself the patient again 
 began to sink rapidly. 
 
 In the excitement of making and signing the deed the 
 day before, for which purpose a justice of the peace had come 
 to the cottage in person, and in the departure of Mr. Parsons 
 with the deed in his pocket with the intention of consummat- 
 ing the sale of the place, the change in Johnny's condition, if 
 any, had not been observed; and the lad made no complaint, 
 having come to accept his crippled and weakly condition as 
 something which could not be changed. Her husband had 
 not been long gone, however, before Mrs. Parsons noticed 
 that Johnny had a slight fever, and at once began to censure 
 herself for not having observed it sooner and asked John to 
 have the doctor come out, or at least send another prescrip- 
 tion. 
 
 It was now too late to do this and she must do the best 
 she could alone; perhaps after all the fever would soon pass 
 off. 
 
 She prepared and gave the child some simple household 
 remedy, sponged his person with tepid water, and sought 
 to amuse him by talking of the coming journey to the Slough, 
 where Lucy and Erastus were, and the pleasant time they 
 would have when they got there. 
 
 But the fever did not go down; on the contrary it became
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 277 
 
 higher as the hours passed, until finally Mrs. Parsons became 
 greatly frightened. 
 
 She prepared a note to Dr. Brenton, asking him to come 
 at once. Upon the envelope she wrote a request that any 
 one going to town would deliver it into his hand. 
 
 She then fastened the letter to a stick, one end of which 
 she sharpened with the butcher knife, and telling Johnny she 
 was going into the yard and would be back in a few moments, 
 ran down to the big road and stuck the stick, with the letter 
 attached, into the ground where anyone passing would be 
 almost certain of seeing it. This done she returned to the 
 house as quickly as she had gone, and waited, and watched 
 the one point of the road which was visible from the window, 
 hoping to see pass a team or a horseman, as an assurance 
 that the message had found a carrier. 
 
 One team she saw going in the opposite direction, but if 
 the driver of it saw the letter he made no effort to forward 
 it to its destination, fancying, perhaps, that someone going 
 to town would soon pass and take it. 
 
 As the afternoon came on, a new cause for alarm to the 
 watcher by the cot of the sick boy appeared. 
 
 The clouds were gathering in a way that betokened a 
 long continued and heavy rainfall. What if John should be 
 detained until late by the business on which he had gone; 
 would he be able to return at night in the midst of the storm 
 which was approaching ? If not, how should she get through 
 the night all alone with the sick child ? 
 
 Or, what if John should attempt to come through the 
 darkness and rain and should meet with an accident? 
 
 She felt certain that he would make the attempt to reach 
 home that night, no matter what the weather might be; but 
 would he be able to get through ? Would not the ravines
 
 278 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEAJ 
 
 fill with water and make the road dangerous, if not absolutely 
 impassable ? 
 
 She could not tell, she could only wait and hope for the 
 best; but every moment seemed an hour, for hours before 
 she had any reason to expect her husband's return, even if 
 he was not delayed by the storm. 
 
 It was but a little after three o'clock when it began to 
 rain; but so thick were the clouds that it seemed as if night 
 were already at hand. 
 
 Johnny had dropped off into a light sleep and she sat by 
 the window that commanded a view of the garden, the level 
 ground with the ravine below, and the hills stretching away 
 towards Phippsburg and the river. 
 
 The rain came down in torrents, and she noticed how 
 quickly little rills formed and ran down between the rows of 
 vegetables in the garden, and lost themselves in the stubble 
 field beyond. 
 
 The turkeys and chickens, deceived by the unusual dark- 
 ness, had all sought their roosts, except here and there one 
 who had been late about getting in and now stood with 
 drooping tail feathers and a generally demoralized look be- 
 neath the thick leaves of some shrub or vine. 
 
 Then it occurred to her to save for washing purposes some 
 of the water that was falling, soft water being a luxury during 
 half the year on the mountain; and she threw an old shawl 
 about her head and shoulders and went out and set the wash 
 tub and boiler under the eave spout, and saw them filled 
 almost before she could turn back into the kitchen. 
 
 And now Johnny had wakened and was calling her. 
 
 She went to him and felt her heart give a great throb as 
 she noticed that his fever was higher than ever, and that his 
 eyes had a strange look about them. 
 
 She preserved her calm appearance, ministered to his
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 279 
 
 wants, and when he asked for his father, told him that he 
 had not returned and that they must not look for him yet 
 awhile, but that he would come by and by. 
 
 During a partial lull in the storm she ran out to the shed 
 and milked the cows, which had come up of their own accord, 
 and were contentedly chewing their cuds beneath the shelter. 
 The horse left at home stood in his stall, and kept turning 
 his ears back and sideways, as if to catch the sound of his 
 returning mate, and she set her milk pail upon the ground 
 and threw him a bit of hay. 
 
 Returning to the house she lighted both of the lamps and 
 took them into the sitting-room where Johnny lay, in order 
 to make it seem as cheerful as possible. 
 
 She had kept the wood box full of dry wood all day, and 
 now she prepared everything for the starting of a fire in the 
 cook stove, and a little later, started it, and put the tea- 
 kettle on. 
 
 Although it was quite dark now, she did not much expect 
 her husband just yet, but wished to have everything ready to 
 get him a cup of hot tea the moment he did come. She also 
 brought out a suit of dry clothes and hung them by the fire 
 ready for him to put on. 
 
 She could still see a little distance through the deepening 
 gloom, and she observed that the water had cut bits of 
 gulleys between the potato rows, and that the stubble field 
 below had the appearance of having become a lake. 
 
 The rain, too, instead of decreasing as the night set in, 
 was, if possible, falling faster than ever; and she could hear 
 a faint roar coming up from the ravine, and knew that soon 
 the water would be rushing through it in great volume, and 
 with a force that would overwhelm any living thing caught in 
 its path; and a half dozen such ravines crossed the road over 
 which her husband must pass in coming from Phippsburg.
 
 280 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 She shuddered as she listened, and turning away, went 
 and sat down by Johnny's crib and tried to interest him by 
 reading a little story from a child's paper. 
 
 But the boy was too sick to care for hearing her read; he 
 wanted his father, and kept asking when he would come, to 
 which she could only reply that they might look for him any 
 moment now, but that the rain might make him late, and 
 they must be patient. 
 
 And so the hours wore on and the rain continued to fall, 
 while every moment the weight at her heart grew heavier and 
 more oppressive. 
 
 Johnny slept fitfully, waking every few moments and 
 always asking "if father had not come. yet," or if his mother 
 "thought father would come pretty soon now," until the sud- 
 den clap of thunder came, at which he was seized with an 
 awful fright and screamed again and again with all the force 
 of his weak lungs. 
 
 Even his mother was startled into an involuntary exclama- 
 tion by the suddenness of the concussion, and for an instant 
 she thought the cottage had been caught in a land slide. She 
 controlled herself at the sound of the child's cry, and bend- 
 ing down, lifted him tenderly in her arms, cuddling his poor 
 wasted form to her breast as if he had been but a babe. 
 
 It was only with difficulty that she checked his screams, 
 and even then he was so fearful and nervous, and sobbed and 
 begged so piteously for his father, that it was only by calling 
 to her aid all the fortitude which she possessed, that Martha 
 Parsons was herself enabled to keep from breaking down. 
 
 It was an hour before Johnny was sufficiently calm to be 
 again laid in his crib. 
 
 As soon as she could leave his side for a moment she went 
 to the window and tried to peer out into the darkness. 
 
 She had placed one of the lamps in the window some
 
 OR, JUST A CAMP1N*. 281 
 
 hours before, hoping that it might prove a beacon to guide 
 her husband if he was still living, which-she was almost ready 
 to doubt, so utterly desolate all things seemed. 
 
 Pressing her face close to the glass she endeavored to 
 penetrate the awful gloom; but could only see for a few feet 
 into, the' darkness. 
 
 The rays of light from the lamps had power to penetrate 
 no farther. 
 
 It seemed to her, as she stood there, straining her eyes in 
 a vain effort to see, that the darkness was a living thing and 
 that it devoured the rays of light bodily, or contended with 
 them and slew them as they strove to make headway against 
 the night. 
 
 When the lamp burned low for an instant, and the light 
 sent out through the window was less strong, she was almost 
 sure she saw the darkness put out its hands and grasp the 
 rays of light and strangle them. 
 
 Mingled with the steady swish of the falling rain, the roar 
 of the water rushing through the ravine now came clear and 
 distinct, and knowing it was all one's life was worth to 
 attempt to cross it, she gave up all hope of seeing her hus- 
 band that night, if ever again, and only prayed that he might 
 be in a place of safety, and out of the reach of the elements 
 that appeared as if about to swallow up the mountain. 
 
 It was a little past midnight, and Johnny had again drop- 
 ped off into a light sleep, when from the direction of the gate 
 opening into the enclosure came the sound of a horse neigh- 
 ing. 
 
 The watcher within listened intently, and with new hope 
 springing up in her breast. 
 
 Was it possible, after all, that John had returned; that he 
 had passed safely through the darkness and the "floods and 
 reached home at last ?
 
 282 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Yes, there was the sound of the horse walking past the 
 window at the upper end of the house, where Mr. Parsons 
 was in the habit of riding through to the stable. 
 
 " Poor dear, what an awful time he must have had com- 
 ing through the storm," she said softly, as she rose hurriedly 
 and went to light the lantern. 
 
 Opening the kitchen door she held the lantern in a way 
 which she hoped would afford her husband some assistance 
 in putting out his animal; if not, would at least help him in 
 getting to the house. 
 
 She heard the whinny with which the horse in the stable 
 welcomed his returned mate, and expected every moment to 
 hear the stable door open and close, and the footsteps of her 
 husband as he made his way towards her. 
 
 After waiting several moments and hearing nothing fur- 
 ther she began to be frightened and finally called softly, 
 
 "John! John!" 
 
 Getting no reply, she caught up an old garment of some 
 kind, threw it about her shoulders, and holding the lantern 
 above her head made her way through the rain to the stable. 
 
 The horse which her husband had ridden stood at the 
 door waiting to be let in, but she could see nothing of his 
 rider. 
 
 She listened a moment and then again called low at 
 first and then with all her might, 
 
 "John! O-oh John!" 
 
 The weary, drenched and mud-bespattered horse lifted 
 his head and gave a low whinny, but no other answer came 
 to her call, 
 
 "John! O-o-oh John!" 
 
 She listened; but only the swish of the rain, falling in 
 literal sheets, and the dull roar of the swollen waters in the 
 ravine below, reached her ears.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 283 
 
 And now she noticed that the horse's bridle-rein was 
 dragging. 
 
 Had he thrown his master, or had John dismounted in 
 order the better to keep the road, and by some means per- 
 mitted the animal to escape him? 
 
 She examined the bridle-rein and found it broken, and 
 she felt certain that the horse had thrown her husband and 
 afterwards stepped upon the rein and broken it. 
 
 Then John was dead. The father of her crippled boy, 
 her companion for so many years, was drowned, it might be 
 in the angry waters that even now were pouring through the 
 gorge with the roar of a demon. Or he was lying in the 
 road, cold and stiff, with his lifeless eyes staring up into the 
 blackened heavens, the pitiless rain beating upon his 
 face. 
 
 Such were the thoughts that burned their way through 
 the brain of Martha Parsons as she stood dumbly looking at 
 the broken rein by the dim light of the lantern. 
 
 The impatient pawing of the horse, demanding to be let 
 under shelter, recalled her to a knowledge of her surround- 
 ings, and quite mechanically she opened the stable door. 
 The horse entered, rubbed his nose against that of his fellow 
 and began at once to eat from the bin in front of him. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons followed him in, removed the saddle and 
 bridle, and taking the lantern from the floor where she had 
 set it, retraced her steps through the storm to the house. 
 
 Fortunately, Johnny had not wakened sufficiently to note 
 her absence, and was unaware of the return of the horse 
 without his father, and she could sit down and think what 
 to do. 
 
 What could she do ? 
 
 Over and over again she asked herself this question. 
 
 It was two miles to the nearest neighbors, and between
 
 284 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 ran the gorge, in attempting to cross which, perhaps, John 
 had lost his life. 
 
 It was too dark to see more than a few feet ahead of one, 
 even by the aid of a lantern, and if that were to go out, it 
 would leave her in utter inability to return. 
 
 Besides, there was the sick child, who would scream him- 
 self to death if he wakened and found himself alone in the 
 house. 
 
 And just then he did waken, and she went to him and 
 gave him the water he asked for, and induced him to again 
 close his eyes and sleep, doing it all without showing the ter- 
 rible agony at her heart, or saying a word about the return 
 of the horse without his rider. 
 
 When she thought Johnny asleep, she arose and went into 
 the kitchen. She did not dare to remain in the room with 
 the child lest he should suddenly open his eyes and see the 
 agony which she felt she could no longer suppress. 
 
 There was nothing she could do for her husband, living or 
 dead, except to kee'p the lamp burning in the window as a 
 beacon, in case, as was just possible, he had been thrown 
 after crossing the gorge, and was now wandering about in the 
 darkness. 
 
 But for Johnny she would have set out to follow the road 
 back towards town, hoping to find some trace of her husband, 
 but to do so and leave Johnny when there was so little chance 
 of any good coming of it, was not to be seriously thought 
 of. She must wait until daylight, and then even then what 
 could she do ? If the rain should cease it would still be 
 days and maybe weeks before any one would be likely to 
 visit the cottage. 
 
 But this fact did not change matters. There was posi- 
 tively nothing she could do except to wait and keep the lamp 
 in the window burning as brightly as possible.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 285 
 
 For many moments she sat motionless, and then stole 
 quietly to the side of her child, whom she found much as he 
 had been for some hours past sleeping uneasily and with 
 considerable fever. 
 
 As she was slipping from the sick room again, she heard 
 a noise as if some one were fumbling at the kitchen door in 
 a vain endeavor to find the latch. 
 
 She listened with a feeling of returning hope, mingled 
 with a horrible, superstitious dread ; the latter born of her 
 excited condition, and the terrible dreariness of her sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 The sound continued until she could not be mistaken ; it 
 was someone trying to open the door, and who else could it 
 be but her husband ? With a feeling of faintness, as if she 
 had suddenly been caught as she was about to drop into a 
 horrible abyss, she hastened to lift the latch. 
 
 As she did so, a form covered with mud, hatless, and with 
 a look of death upon his face and in his eyes, entered. 
 
 For an instant she did not recognize the form as that of 
 her husband, but when he staggered forward into the light 
 and sank upon a chair, she saw that it was he, and in an in- 
 stant she was at his side, striving to remove his storm-soaked 
 garments. 
 
 " Tell me where you are hurt, John ; tell me what to do, 
 quick," she said. "Are you wounded anywhere, or only ter- 
 ribly bruised by your fall ? Tell me quick, so I can help 
 you." 
 
 But he only stared at her and made no reply. 
 
 "John, John," she cried, now doubly alarmed, "what is 
 it ? where is it ? tell me, dear. Is it your head that 
 hurts ? " 
 
 He looked at her so strangely that she thought he must 
 have been crazed by a blow upon the head.
 
 "DO YOU THINK THEY'LL LET us STAY TILL MORNIN'?" 
 286
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 287 
 
 Slowly he raised his hand at last and drew it across his 
 forehead. 
 
 " I d'know, Marty," he said in a hesitating tone, " I 
 reckon I d'know exactly what is the matter." 
 
 He still sat gazing at her with that strange look in his 
 eyes, as if he was not certain of where he was. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons hurriedly placed the tea-kettle back on the 
 stove, where it instantly began to sing, and a moment later 
 had a cup of tea prepared. 
 
 Then she came and put her arm about her husband's neck, 
 paying no attention to his filthy garments, while she held the 
 cup to his lips. 
 
 " Drink this, dear," she said, " and then I'll get your wet 
 clothes off and get you to bed and you will feel better." 
 
 He took a sip of the tea and then, looking up at his wife 
 as she bent over him, asked: 
 
 " Do you think they'll let us stay till mornin'? " 
 
 And Martha Parsons tried to keep her voice from trem- 
 bling and make it sound cheerful as she answered: "Oh yes, 
 dear, they said we could stay until morning." 
 
 She saw that he was out of his head and knew that the 
 better way was to humor any fancy of his brain, and hoping 
 that if she could get him to bed and apply hot draughts to 
 his person, he might recover his mind in a few hours. 
 
 " Then I reckon we had better stay," he said. " It'ud be 
 mortal hard on you an' Johnny to hev to leave in this storm. 
 I hope they'll let Lucy an' Rastus stay till mornin', too." 
 
 She finally succeeded in undressing him and getting him 
 into bed, where he lay staring at her as she moved about, 
 preparing hot draughts and placing them upon his head and 
 feet, and across his chest. 
 
 Johnny had awakened when his father came, and tried to 
 call him, but being told by his mother that his father had
 
 288 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 fallen from his horse and was hurt, and that he must keep 
 quiet, he had done so, though his eyes were big with fear, 
 and with the fever, which had come up higher than ever. 
 
 Occasionally, as she worked over her husband, chafing 
 his limbs and changing the cloths and vessels of hot water 
 with which she had surrounded him, he would mutter some- 
 thing about " the mortgage," or " the mines," or about " Lucy 
 and Erastus," and once she thought he spoke the names of 
 Jennie and her husband, but she gathered nothing from what 
 he said of the loss of their home, and supposed that his con- 
 dition was the result of a fall from his horse, and of being so 
 long exposed to the storm. 
 
 His limbs were cold and she feared he was going into a 
 nervous chill, and worked with all her might to restore the 
 circulation, but in spite of her efforts he continued to sink. 
 
 His eyes would close for a few moments and then open 
 again suddenly, but never with any sign of a clear percep- 
 tion of his condition or surroundings, but only to mutter 
 something about "campin' out," and "the mines," and "the 
 children," until just before day began to break, when he 
 aroused from the lethargy into which he was fast sinking, 
 made an effort to rise, fell back, tried again and succeeded 
 in getting upon his elbow, stared about the room, and at 
 Johnnyls crib, and then with the wild look in his eyes and 
 upon his face changing to one which showed that he recog- 
 nized his surroundings, he again sank back upon his pillow 
 and made a sign for his wife to come closer. 
 
 As she bent over him he strove to speak, and finally said 
 brokenly: 
 
 "'Tain't no use, Marty. My my lead is is 
 worked out, and our our claim's been jumped agin." 
 
 He struggled for breath, his eye-balls turned upward and
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 289 
 
 he choked, but seemed to rally his expiring energies for a 
 farewell message, and added: 
 
 " I I'm goin' goin' over the range, to to stake out a 
 new claim, an' you an' Johnny an' an' the rest will find find 
 me waitin' when you come." 
 
 A great shiver shook his frame, his breast heaved with a 
 long drawn sigh, and the spirit of John Parsons had gone 
 ahead to prospect for a home for his loved ones in the other 
 country, of which we know so little and hope so much.
 
 gpO DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 "TAKE ME UP, PAPA!" 
 
 Daylight came at last; came slowly, as if it were forced 
 to contend with the unwilling darkness for master} 7 ; and even 
 then the clouds did not lift, or the rain cease its steady 
 down-pour. 
 
 Martha Parsons never knew whence came the strength 
 that enabled her to close the eyes of her dead husband, or to 
 continue existence when she had done so. 
 
 One was dead, but one yet lived, and living, needed her 
 care. While that life continued she felt that her strength 
 would continue also, and beyond that she neither thought 
 nor cared. When his father's spirit took its flight, and after- 
 wards, while she was caring for the dead body straighten- 
 ing out the limbs and folding the arms across the breast 
 Johnny lay in his cot and watched his mother without a word 
 or a cry, but with a look half of awe and half of surprise, 
 as if he had seen the flight of the spirit and understood why 
 and whither it had gone. And when all was done and the cot 
 in which he lay had been wheeled into the kitchen, where the 
 fire burning in the stove, gave a little more cheerful look to 
 the room, he still asked no questions and made no com- 
 plaint. 
 
 His mother found herself wondering if Johnny knew that 
 his father was dead, but could think of no way of ascertain- 
 ing without herself imparting the information if he did not 
 already possess it, and this she feared to do lest it should 
 cause his spirit to follow that of his father.
 
 OR, JUST A c AMPIN'. 291 
 
 " If only we could both go," were the words that kept 
 swelling up in her heart, and seeking utterance at her lips. 
 
 Then remembering what Lucy had written; that if possi- 
 ble her mother should come to them before her babe was 
 born, that she might be with her in her hour of trial, she felt 
 anew that she must live for the sake of her children. 
 
 But what was she to do ? How could she obtain help to 
 bury the dead, or a physician for the sick child ? 
 
 The rain might continue for a week, and already com- 
 munication was cut off with all who lived below, if not with 
 those on the other side of the mountain, and she dared not 
 leave Johnny to go for help, even if she could make her way 
 through the floods. 
 
 She did leave him for a few moments, long enough to go 
 to the stable and throw feed to the animals. She did not 
 milk the cows, did not dare leave the child long enough for 
 that, but the horses she must feed, for she might need one 
 to ride for help, and he must be strong to contend with the 
 torrents which would have to be crossed if she did go. 
 
 Johnny's fever had gone down a little again now. She 
 watched him with all possible care and tried to appear cheer- 
 ful, and even to talk with him as usual, but he answered her 
 with such a strange look of questioning, making no reply in 
 words, that she was still in doubt if he knew what had taken 
 place, and finally ceased to talk to him except to ask him to 
 take medicine or food. 
 
 The medicine he swallowed without Opposition, but the 
 food he rejected utterly and could not be persuaded to take 
 a mouthful. 
 
 About noon she made a cup of tea for herself and tried 
 to eat, but found it almost impossible to do so, although she 
 had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and it was only by 
 telling herself that she must eat in order to keep up her
 
 2Q2 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 strength until help came that she was enabled to swallow 
 anything. 
 
 She dared not think how long it might be before help 
 came; but, come it late or early, she must keep up until that 
 time. 
 
 She tried to think of some way of hoisting a signal of 
 distress, as she had read of shipwrecked mariners doing at 
 sea, but could not. 
 
 She watched the one place in the road which could be 
 seen from the kitchen window, but she saw no one pass. 
 
 No one could pass the gorge, now a roaring, noisy tor- 
 rent, with a depth and power that made fording it a matter 
 of impossibility. 
 
 And so the minutes and the hours dragged slowly by, and 
 the rain continued to fall. 
 
 Night closed in early, owing to the darkened heavens, 
 and she lit the lamps, placing one in the room with the dead, 
 the other on a stand near the cot of the living, and sat down 
 by the side of her child to watch him die. 
 
 That he would die before the morning came she knew, 
 and she wondered at her ability to act coolly, or to act at all. 
 
 All through the fore part of the night she sat watching 
 every movement of the hands, every rise and fall of the chest, 
 every trembling of the eyelids, utterly unconscious of any 
 weariness in her own frame. 
 
 She kept a fire burning in the stove, and every little while 
 gave the dying child a few drops of some liquid preparation 
 which she had made, as the only thing she could do to pro- 
 long life. 
 
 The child slept almost continually now, and when he 
 awoke, made no effort to speak, but the questioning look 
 which had been there since his father's death, had not left his 
 eyes.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 293 
 
 As midnight approached, she saw the increasing evidences 
 of approaching death, and knelt by the side of the cot with 
 one arm under the pillow on which her child's head lay. 
 
 His breathing was less regular now, and weaker, coming 
 in little quivering sighs and half-formed sobs. 
 
 He was awake, and had been for some moments. At last 
 his eyes were open and he seemed to be looking at her, but 
 when she asked him if " there was anything mother could do 
 for her poor sick darling," he only smiled the faintest little 
 smile possible, and made no effort to speak. 
 
 She remained kneeling for more than an hour, now rais- 
 ing now lowering his head a little as seemed to make his 
 breathing easier, until just as the clock struck one, a look of 
 surprise overspread his face, and slowly raising one arm, he- 
 placed it about his mother's neck, allowed it to rest there for 
 an instant, then slowly removed it, lifted both hands as if to 
 someone unseen by her, murmured faintly, " Take me up, 
 papa ! " sank back into his mother's arms, and was gone. 
 
 When again the daylight came, two dead bodies were 
 lying in the best room of the cottage on the mountain side; 
 one upon the bed, with a white counterpane drawn about it, 
 and one in the little cot, clothed in a white robe of some soft 
 stuff once worn by the living, but which had lain unused in 
 the bureau drawers for years, and which the mother's hands 
 had fashioned into a shroud during the hours which had 
 intervened. 
 
 Very peaceful was the look on either face as they lay 
 there. All trace of suffering and care had fled, and in their 
 place was a look of rest and perfect peace. 
 
 At least so thought the weary, loving woman, who, bend- 
 ing down to kiss each in turn, felt strangely comforted, 
 although her heart seemed breaking. 
 
 When daylight had fully come she went out and fed the
 
 " TAKE ME UP, PAPA!" 
 994
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 295 
 
 animals and fowls, and milked the cows; leaving the dead 
 where they lay, and as her own hands had cared for them. 
 
 She felt compelled to do this, partly out of sympathy 
 with the dumb brutes who must suffer without human care, 
 but more from a feeling that John would have her do it. 
 For had she not always cared for the animals when he 
 chanced to be away and there was no one else to attend to 
 them-? And now that he was absent never to return, she did 
 not feel.that it made any difference; he would still want her 
 to care for them. 
 
 When this was done she returned to the house, made a 
 cup of tea and forced herself to eat a little, for her work was 
 not yet finished and she must have strength. 
 
 Then she went about putting the house in order, and in 
 taking down the clothes which her husband had on when he 
 came v home wet and dying, Lucy's letter fell out and she 
 picked it up and read it, and reading, understood all, or 
 thought she did. 
 
 It was the knowledge that their children were to be driven 
 out as they themselves had so often been that had killed 
 John; that and some trouble about their own home. She 
 did not know what this trouble was, but finding the deed in 
 his pocket she knew that the place had not been sold, and 
 putting that knowledge with the words muttered by her hus- 
 band in his delirium, she guessed that someone laid claim to 
 the cottage in which she watched her dead. 
 
 But nothing now had power to add to her sufferings. 
 Her cup was already full and could contain no more ; so 
 these added wrongs, whatever they might prove to be, could 
 not make her sorrows greater. 
 
 She put the letter in the bureau drawer where all letters 
 from the children were kept, finished tidying up the house, 
 kissed again the cold faces of her dead and went out, care-
 
 296 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 fully closing and fastening the door behind her, and going 
 to the stable, saddled a horse and prepared to ride in search 
 of help. 
 
 It was still raining, but in a mild kind of way, as if each 
 particular drop half repented of having decided to fall upon 
 the already water-soaked earth. 
 
 The gullies upon the mountain side had been widened 
 and deepened, and new ones had been cut through the cul- 
 tivated ground below. 
 
 The grape-vines were half denuded of their foliage, and 
 what remained hung listless, as if drowned in the flood. The 
 rose leaves lay scattered beneath their draggled bushes, the 
 fruit trees drooped their slender twigs, and all nature seemed 
 as if it had had a surfeit of weeping. 
 
 The waters filled the ravine below, and overflowing, had 
 covered the stubble field and extended half way to tHt cot- 
 tage. 
 
 A few turkeys and chickens, weary with their long con- 
 finement, were strolling about in a disconsolate kind of man- 
 ner, and with a look that seemed to say that they were tired 
 of life and ready to be eaten if anybody could get up an 
 appetite in such abominable weather. 
 
 Leading the animal she had chosen to ride to a block near 
 the kitchen door, she mounted him and rode away. 
 
 At the main road she turned to the right, knowing that it 
 would be folly to attempt to ford the ravine, and having de- 
 cided to go further up the mountain and try to reach the cot- 
 tage of some people living on the other side of the divide, 
 reasoning that the higher up she went the less would be the 
 volume of water in the ravines. 
 
 She found the road almost impassable in places, and once 
 was nearly carried away by the force of a stream which she 
 was compelled to cross, but finally succeeded without injury
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 297 
 
 to herself or horse in reaching the shanty of a settler, and 
 told the object of her coming. 
 
 She wanted help to bury her dead, and she wanted some 
 one to go to the nearest post-office and mail a letter to Eras- 
 tus and Lucy, and another to Jennie and her husband. 
 
 These letters she had written during the night after 
 Johnny died, sitting in the room where her dead lay. 
 
 They were brief, for no words came to her in which to 
 tell of her sorrow, or her awful loneliness; but in a few sen- 
 tences she had told what had occurred. 
 
 She found heartfelt sympathy and ready help in those of 
 whom she had come to seek it. 
 
 They would have had her remain there while they, with 
 other neighbors, cared for the dead ; but she would not 
 listen. 
 
 So -long as anything remained to be done for her loved 
 ones she would help do it. She could not leave them even 
 to the care of those who had known and respected them while 
 living, and despite all they could say, ro^e back alone, while 
 the neighbor went to secure other assistance, and his son 
 prepared to make an attempt to reach some point from which 
 to mail the letters. 
 
 When she reached the cottage on her return she put her 
 horse in the stable, unsaddled him and fed both him and his 
 mate, and then went into the house. 
 
 A few moments later several neighbors, both men and 
 women, came and remained until the next day, when the 
 bodies of her husband and child were placed in the vehicles 
 in which they were to be conveyed to the little burying 
 ground on the other side of the mountain. 
 
 The gray-haired minister who had married Lucy and 
 Erastus two years before, again came to the cottage to say a 
 few words over the bodies of the dead, trying to find Ian-
 
 298 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 guage which would convey a little comfort to the one lone 
 mourner who was so dear to them while living ; but she 
 scarcely heard his words, and did not at all "comprehend 
 what he was saying. 
 
 She had no thought but that her dear ones were better off. 
 
 Her husband, she knew, had been an upright man, and 
 had followed Christ's teachings in that he always preferred 
 to suffer rather than do wrong to another ; and Johnny 
 surely could have done no grievous wrong. 
 
 No, she was not fearful of their condition in the life upon 
 which they had entered, but now that the hour was approach- 
 ing in which she could do no more, even for their dead 
 bodies, she felt her strength giving way, and when they had 
 been laid side by side in their one grave, and the words 
 " dust to dust and ashes to ashes " had been spoken and the 
 few neighbors present turned away, they saw her falling to 
 the earth unconscious, and kindly and lovingly they carried 
 her in their arms to the nearest house. 
 
 Before reaching there she had revived and insisted on 
 being carried back to the cottage whence her beloved 
 ones had been taken, and only the lateness of the hour, and 
 the dangerous condition of the roads after night-fall, induced 
 her to relinquish her design. 
 
 Even this would not have deterred her had they not made 
 her feel that she would risk other lives than her own, since 
 they would not permit her to go alone if nothing could 
 induce her to remain. 
 
 Thus urged, she consented to remain until morning, but 
 nothing that could be said could induce her to stay longer. 
 No offer of any one to make their house her home until she 
 heard from Erastus and Lucy would she accept. 
 
 Erastus would come as soon as they got her letter, she
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 299 
 
 knew, and she would wait for him at the old place on the 
 mountain side. 
 
 So they took her there, and two of the neighbors re- 
 mained through the first day and night, and when they went 
 away, they sent an elderly woman of the neighborhood, noted 
 for her kindness in sickness and in death, to remain with her 
 until Erastus should come. 
 
 This, she told them, was unnecessary; she did not fear 
 being alone, and was quite able to do what little there was to 
 be done in taking care of the stock and poultry. 
 
 But they would not listen to it, and so the woman staid, 
 and every day others came to see if there was anything that 
 the two needed, but there was seldom anything that they 
 could do. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons had learned from others the full extent of 
 the misfortune regarding the mortgage, and knew that the 
 place must go, but this did not worry her. 
 
 If she had still possessed it, Erastus and Lucy could have 
 come and lived with her, but since she did not, she would go 
 to them, that was all the difference. 
 
 And if they were forced to leave their own ranch, why, 
 they would find shelter somewhere else; it did not greatly 
 matter where. A part had gone on ahead to the country 
 beyond the grave, and the rest would follow before very long. 
 All her thoughts were centered there now, and it mattered 
 little what became of earthly interests. 
 
 It was a full week before Erastus came. 
 
 The letter had been delayed a few days on account of the 
 flood, and then had remained another day uncalled for in the 
 office, for while the dead were being laid away upon the 
 mountain side, a new life was being ushered in at the 
 Slough.
 
 300 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 The same day on which the letter was received sa\v 
 Erastus start; Lucy and the baby, both of whom were doing 
 well, being left in the care of Mrs. Johnson and another 
 neighboring woman. 
 
 He reached Phippsburg by the morning boat and had no 
 difficulty in finding means of getting out to the cottage, for 
 the calamity which had befallen the Parsons family was in 
 every mouth, and there were numbers who were ready to 
 offer assistance to one who came to care for the lonely woman 
 who had endured such suffering. 
 
 Mrs. Parsons saw him coming up the lane and met him in 
 the yard in front of the cottage. 
 
 Up to this moment she had not shed a tear, and not a 
 sob had choked her utterance, but great black rings about 
 the sunken eyes, and a stooping of the form as she went 
 about the house and yard, told plainer than tears could do, 
 how heavy was the grief at her heart. 
 
 She had herself wondered that she could not cry, but she 
 could not; and when she would have done so, her eyes grew 
 hot, but no tears ever came to quench the flames that seemed 
 to consume them. 
 
 But when Erastus came, and putting his arms about her, 
 kissed her cheek and brow, and smoothed her hair, in which 
 the gray had grown suddenly prominent, she put her head 
 upon his shoulder and wept as if she never would cease. 
 
 And so, with his arm about her, and his own tears falling 
 fast, he led her gently into the cottage, and when she grew 
 calm, told her of the birth of her grandchild. 
 
 Then they talked of what it was best to do, and as Eras- 
 tus was determined not to yield up his place at the Slough 
 without first exhausting every effort in defense of his rights, 
 it was decided to leave everything which Mrs. Parsons did
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 301 
 
 not wish to take with her, in the care of a neighbor, to be 
 sold, while she returned with Erastus to the Slough, and to 
 Lucy and the baby. 
 
 Accordingly, the wearing apparel and a few household 
 goods, including the little wheeled cot in which Johnny had 
 lain so long, and which Mrs. Parsons could not bear to have 
 go into other hands, was packed and loaded, and the next 
 afternoon a neighbor drove them to the Landing, and the cot- 
 tage upon the mountain side was left desolate.
 
 302 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEAJ 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 A close carriage drawn by a splendidly matched pair of 
 bay horses rolled up California street, in the city of San 
 Francisco, and on Nob Hill stopped in front of a palatial resi- 
 dence, the home of a man who, not very many years since, 
 was the possessor of but little if any money or property, 
 but who is now a railroad king and the possessor of millions. 
 
 As the horses were brought to a stop, a liveried servant 
 climbed down from his perch, opened the door of the car- 
 riage, and a heavy, dark-complexioned man in the prime of 
 life descended and approached the mansion. 
 
 As he reached the broad marble steps, the door opened, 
 and four boy pages in dark livery ranged themselves on either 
 side of the steps, returning to the hall to await orders only 
 after the heavy man, their master, had passed on in 
 advance. 
 
 Once inside, the heavy man turned to the right and entered 
 a large room, the furniture of which was of rosewood and 
 mahogany, and of European manufacture. The most costly 
 of Axminster carpets was upon the floor, and the heaviest of 
 damask and finest of lace draped the windows. Costly pic- 
 tures were upon the walls, marble statuettes adorned the man- 
 tels and the corner^ of the room, while solid silver chande- 
 liers of many hundred pounds weight depended from the 
 ceiling. 
 
 From this room the heavy man passed through an arch- 
 way with massive sliding doors to another room of similar
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 303 
 
 size and ornamentation, and from this to a smaller one fur- 
 nished as a library. 
 
 Magnificently carved cases of rosewood held artistically 
 bound and beautifully illustrated works of the best authors 
 in fiction, in history and travel, but none of these were 
 of much interest to their possessor, who, without pausing, 
 passed onward, and at the left entered another room supplied 
 with a small table, a desk, a sofa, and a few chairs the pri- 
 vate room of the railroad king and holder of the title deed 
 to the mansion. 
 
 Seating himself at the desk, he drew a key from his 
 pocket and, unlocking one of the drawers, took therefrom a 
 bundle of papers, which he ran over carefully, noting down 
 an item or two from each. After an hour spent in this manner, 
 he desisted from his work, replaced the papers, locked the 
 drawer, and, turning half round in his chair, touched a but- 
 ton in the wall. Almost immediately a servant in livery 
 appeared and stood waiting for orders. 
 
 "Bring me a lunch, some fruit or something, and a 
 bottle of wine." 
 
 Again the servant bowed and retired. A few moments 
 later he re-entered with a tray, on which was a bit of cold 
 chicken, some grapes, apricots, peaches, a bottle of wine and 
 some glasses. These he deposited on the table, which he 
 wheeled around in front of his master's chair, and was about 
 to retire, when the railroad king again spoke : 
 
 " Tell Barnes to come here." 
 
 The servant bowed and disappeared. The heavy man 
 poured himself a glass of wine, set it beside the tray, and 
 then devoted himself to his lunch. 
 
 He was still eating when the door opened, and a man in 
 middle life, well dressed, and with a look which indicated 
 both persistence and cunning, entered.
 
 304 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 "Peters said you wished to see me," he said, bowing 
 slightly. 
 
 " Yes," replied the heavy man, " I want you to see the 
 merchants and business men of the city and give them to 
 understand that we don't want any of their interference with 
 our business, and that we shall find a way to make it unpleas- 
 ant for them if they do." 
 
 Barnes, who was a kind of private detective to the railroad 
 king, and accustomed to all kinds of work requiring cheek 
 and impudence, did hot change his expression or move a 
 muscle while receiving this orde*r, but remained entirely pas- 
 sive while the other was speaking and for a few seconds after 
 he had ceased. Then, with a movement as if turning to go, 
 he said, in a tone which was intended to indicate only a 
 desire to fully understand his orders : 
 
 " Anything you want especially emphasized ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied the other, taking up his wine glass and 
 setting it down again with force; " yes," he repeated, " there 
 is. I want you to make them understand that we can take 
 care of our own affairs, without any assistance or advice 
 from them, and that if they have any sympathy with the out- 
 laws who are claiming homestead rights on the land which 
 Congress gave to us, they had better keep it to themselves, 
 unless they know of some better way of shipping goods than 
 over our lines of road." 
 
 " All right. I only wanted to know just what you 
 wanted done, and how far I was to go in the matter." 
 
 " You can go far enough to make them understand that 
 we are not in the habit of arresting grangers for the pleas- 
 ure of seeing them bailed out of jail by the business men 
 of San Francisco, and we don't propose to form any such 
 habits at this time. Hello ! is that you ? Well, come in," 
 he said, suddenly changing his tone, and addressing a man
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 305 
 
 about his own age but much less given to flesh than himself, 
 who appeared at the door and stood as if waiting for an 
 invitation to enter. Then again addressing himself to 
 Barnes, he said : 
 
 " You can go now. You have got your orders, and 
 understand what you are to do." 
 
 As Barnes passed out the other entered, shook hands 
 cordially with the heavy man, and, seating himself in a chair 
 which the latter set for him, reached over and helped himself 
 to a glass of wine, saying, as he did so : 
 
 " Just got back on last train. Called at the office ten 
 minutes after you left; found our noble partner there, and 
 as he wanted to talk over matters, we thought we'd come 
 over to your house. They told me you were in your pri- 
 vate room, and I took the liberty of corning unannounced." 
 
 " That's right," replied the heavy man, " glad you 
 came. Was anxious to see you. Where's he now ? " 
 
 " He'll be along in a few moments. Some old fellow 
 from down below, some homesteader I guess, was trying to 
 talk him into giving up our claim to his land, and as I 
 didn't care to listen to the old fellow's lingo about how hard 
 he had worked to improve his claim, and how tough it was 
 to be turned out of house and home without anything to 
 start on again, I came on ahead and left him to follow as 
 soon as he could get rid of his visitor." 
 
 ' That's it," replied the heavy man. " They are ever- 
 lastingly whining about being turned out of their homes. 
 Why don't they go somewhere else and begin again ? They 
 ought to know by this time that they can't fight a rich cor- 
 poration, such as we are." 
 
 The thinner man laughed. It was not what one might call 
 a hearty laugh. Neither was it exactly forced. The person 
 of the party emitting it shook just a little, as much at least 
 
 20
 
 306 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 as a person with that amount of flesh could be expected to 
 do. Evidently the thinner man saw something mirth-pro- 
 voking in the suggestions of the other, that these men whose 
 lands they were seeking to possess themselves of, should go 
 elsewhere in the State and preempt again ; and he looked 
 at his companion with a kind of quizzical expression, as if 
 he would have said : 
 
 " Suppose you suggest some place in the State where 
 these men can find land open for preemption that we do 
 not claim, and perhaps they will go there." 
 
 The other evidently understood the look, for he winced 
 a little beneath it, and then said, in a petulant kind of 
 way : 
 
 " Well, let 'em stay where they are, then, and work for a 
 share of the crop. All the more reason why they should, if 
 they can't find any land to preempt anywhere else in the 
 State. Anyhow," he continued, in a more determined tone, 
 "if they are going to whine, I propose to give them some- 
 thing worth whining about. I was just ordering Barnes, as 
 you came in, to notify the business men that they had bet- 
 ter keep their fingers out of our pie if they don't want to get 
 them burnt." 
 
 "Anything new?" asked the thinner man, with a sud- 
 den show of interest. 
 
 " Nothing special ; only, if we conclude to have any of 
 those pretended settlers arrested again, and let 'em lie in 
 jail awhile, until they come to their senses, we don't want 
 anybody coming forward with offers to go their bail." 
 
 The thinner man laughed again, the same quiet kind of 
 laugh as before. 
 
 " Well, governor," he said, " I guess you can manage 
 that without any assistance, and I am willing to leave it to 
 you as long as you do it properly. It has to be done, of
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 307 
 
 course, for the land we must have, but I own that I prefer 
 buying congressmen and senators to driving those poor 
 devils out of their homes " 
 
 " Oh, yes, that's all very nice," replied the other, " but 
 what is the use of buying congressmen and senators, if we 
 are not to reap the benefit of the purchase ? It isn't the 
 senators and congressmen that we bought, either. They did 
 the selling. The thing bought was the land, and it isn't our 
 fault if the men that are on the land have got themselves 
 into such shape that they go with it ; and, besides, if we are 
 going to be squeamish about taking what we have bought, 
 we might better have kept our purchase money." 
 
 The thinner man smiled. Then he leaned back in his 
 chair, stretched out his legs, ran both hands deep into his 
 pants pockets, and gazed up at the ceiling. 
 
 " All right, governor," he said. " I'm not going to mor- 
 alize about the right of congressmen or courts to sell the 
 land or the men that work it. We went into this thing to 
 win, and of course we are going to see it through. If the 
 people have no more sense or spirit than to sit still and let 
 us gobble up the country, they are only fit for slaves, and 
 slaves they shall be. If we can keep them quiet a few years 
 more, until we get our plans all laid and in operation, get 
 possession of the water transportation as thoroughly as we 
 have of the railroad facilities, their whining won't count for 
 much ; and you can depend on me standing by you until 
 the thing is done. I was only saying that I like better the 
 work of paying congress and the courts to let us take what 
 we want, than I do the work of turning those poor devils 
 out of their homes, after congress and the courts have given 
 us permission to do so. Now a congressman or a judge is 
 well fed and generally well satisfied with himself and the 
 world at large, and so is not given to unpleasant reminis-
 
 308 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 cences or predilections, while at the same time they are gen- 
 erally sufficiently ready to turn an honest penny to make 
 them anxious to make themselves agreeable to anyone who 
 is known to have a little matter that he is willing to pay for 
 having attended to at least that has been my experience. 
 All of which helps to make the work of getting their consent 
 to our little schemes very pleasant; at least a good deal more 
 pleasant than listening to the complaints of the poor 
 wretches of grangers whose homes have been disposed of 
 without their consent, and who, when we have driven them 
 off, bag and baggage, with their wives and young ones, will 
 begin again somewhere else, with the certainty that the same 
 thing will be done to them again as soon as they get enough 
 together to make it an object for anybody to do it." 
 
 " That's it," replied the heavy man. " If we don't do it, 
 somebody else will ; and, besides, we have paid for the priv- 
 ilege, and so have the best right to make the first assess- 
 ment. And while we are about it we may as well make it 
 large enough so no one else will be tempted to trouble them 
 for a while at least. But here he comes. Come in," he 
 called, in response to a rap on the door, and a gentleman 
 entered, nodded familiarly to the heavy man and his com- 
 panion, and, drawing a chair up to the table, sat down. 
 
 Nodding sideways towards the thinner man, he said : 
 " He came in just after you left, governor, and as we knew 
 you would want to hear how things were looking at the Capi- 
 tal, we concluded to come up and let him make his report 
 to us here.' 
 
 " That's right. Glad you came," replied the heavy man. 
 I am anxious to hear just what shape affairs are in at Wash- 
 ington, and what the outlook is. It is of the utmost import- 
 ance that our friends there stand by us now. Do you 
 think," he added, addressing the thinner man, "that we can
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 309 
 
 depend on enough votes in the House and Senate to pull 
 us through ? " 
 
 " I don't see why we should fail," replied the thinner 
 man. " The president of the Senate has kindly permitted 
 the use of the room directly back of his desk for our private 
 lobby, so that we can watch matters and have a consultation 
 with our friends at any moment. I think everything is all 
 right there now, but if need be we can fix a man or two at 
 the last moment. 
 
 " In the House matters have not progressed quite so far, 
 but there is time enough yet. Congressmen are not becom- 
 ing any more virtuous or hard to approach as the years pass, 
 that I can see; but the contrary. There's a difference, to be 
 sure, but it's a difference of price. When we first began we 
 had to satisfy only a few of the party leaders, and the rest 
 followed ; but of late they have all dropped to our racket, 
 and either kick out and refuse to vote with us on any terms, 
 or they demand to be paid for their votes the same as the 
 leaders, which makes it rather expensive getting what we 
 want. Still it's a good investment." 
 
 " How much will it take, according to your estimates ? " 
 asked the heavy man. 
 
 " How much ? Oh, well, that's hard to say exactly. 
 You can judge about as well as I. Congressmen this year 
 range all the way from five thousand dollars up to fifty 
 thousand, and senators proportionately higher, and we must 
 have a majority of both houses. 
 
 " Of course we can count on getting some votes on the 
 plea of the public good, and the necessity for more railroads 
 to open up the country and to provide competition. Then 
 there is a certain number of members who are afraid to vote 
 with us, but who can be persuaded that they need a vaca- 
 tion about the time the bill comes to a vote, and can be got
 
 310 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 rid of for the day for the cost of a trip home or to New 
 York, with provision for a good time after they get there. 
 Then a certain other number can be sent off on committees 
 of investigation, and the number who must be paid directly 
 be greatly reduced in that way. I should say it would cost 
 about half a million to get what we want." 
 
 " Half a million," echoed the heavy man with a sigh. 
 " Congressmen at five to fifty thousand dollars what is the 
 country coming to ? " 
 
 As neither of his companions ventured a prediction, the 
 heavy man continued : " When we commenced business 
 here on the coast we could get all the help we wanted from 
 members of Congress by placing a few thousand dollars of 
 our stock in the hands of the right men. And down South, 
 before the war, they say able-bodied niggers used to sell for 
 a thousand dollars apiece, the best of 'em." And the 
 heavy man lay back in his chair and looked grum and dis- 
 gusted. 
 
 " You don't look at the thing in the right light," returned 
 the thinner man, laughing. A thousand dollars apiece for 
 niggers is high, is way up, compared to what we pay for 
 white men. At a half million dollars for the lot, there are 
 already enough squatters on the land we are after to bring 
 the price to five hundred dollars for a whole family, with 
 several million acres of land thrown in, enough for several 
 pretty good sized plantations, I should say." 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't always put things in that disagree- 
 able kind of a way," remarked the third man. " It is but a 
 few years since we fought to set the negroes free in this 
 country, and I don't like to hear about making slaves of 
 white men. It don't sound well." 
 
 " Oh, well, just as you like. It's only a choice of terms," 
 replied the thinner man, good-naturedly. " By the way,
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 311 
 
 you say 'we fought; ' I don't remember ever to have heard 
 the number of your regiment and company ? What State 
 did you enlist from ? " 
 
 " Come, come," interrupted the heavy man. " What's 
 the use of your sparring each other ? If none of us went to 
 war ourselves, we did all we could to induce others to go, 
 and so helped sustain the government. As governor of 
 the State during that time, I did everything I could in sup- 
 port of the administration. It was conceded at 'the time 
 that to my efforts was due the fact that the Pacific coast 
 remained true to the Union. We both understand your way 
 of putting things, of course, and it's all right with us ; but 
 it wouldn't do to let outsiders hear you talk that way. They 
 might think you were in earnest." 
 
 " Never you fear for that, governor. I am not going to 
 give the thing away. Why, you ought to hear me expound 
 the matter to members of congress. I actually get eloquent 
 sometimes, I do believe, dwelling on the advantages which 
 our enterprise will be to the country ; opening up its 
 resources and laying bare its great natural wealth to the 
 energy and enterprise of the people. W T hy, I'll contract to 
 keep any congressman or senator who votes the way we 
 want him to, in arguments to prove himself a patriot and 
 statesman. I do that regularly with lots of our fellows, 
 besides writing whole columns of matter for the newspapers, 
 setting forth the desirability of the thing from a commercial 
 standpoint Maybe you didn't know that that great speech 
 of Thompson's in the House last week was written by me. 
 Well, it was. That is, I furnished the figures and outlined 
 the argument. Thompson put the thing into shape a little; 
 rounded off the periods so they would sound well, and 
 then shot it off to the country. It made a big noise, too, I
 
 312 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 tell you. The associated press reported it, and all the big 
 dailies had it next morning with double headlines." 
 
 " I hope Thompson succeeded in convincing the rest of 
 the members of the House that our enterprise has been a 
 great benefit," remarked the last comer. 
 
 " I should say so. Why, benefit is no word for it. Con- 
 sidering the fact that we invested exactly eleven thousand 
 five hundred dollars in this thing to start on, and now own 
 half the coast, with a prospect of gobbling up the other half, 
 I should say it had been a benefit, with a big B." 
 
 " Oh, come, now, I'm tired of your nonsense ; let's talk 
 business. Give me the names of the men whom you have 
 seen and the price they can be had at, and anything else 
 of importance, so we can decide what to do at once. I 
 suppose, though, we will have to pay them their price, what- 
 ever it is, but we must get it down as low as possible, for 
 we may have to fight the thing in the courts, if not in the 
 departments, after we get the bill through. And election is 
 coming on, and we have to take care of our friends, or some 
 of 'em may get left, and it's cheaper and safer to help those 
 to a reelection whom we know to be friendly, than it is to 
 trust to new men who may not be of our way of think- 
 ing." 
 
 "That's true," returned the other. " It is always harder 
 to approach a man the first time than the second or third. 
 Your new man may be either afraid to deal, or what is quite 
 as likely, afraid of selling too cheap, not being posted on 
 the price of votes. Or he may possibly have too exalted an 
 opinion of the position of Congressman and law-maker to 
 make it safe to approach him with a business proposition. 
 Such men are not common in Congress now-a-days,. but 
 occasionally one gets there by accident, and we have to be
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 313 
 
 cautious and feel our way. And it all costs. Wine is 
 higher in Washington than it is in California ; and a cham- 
 pagne supper, about as good a thing to bring men together 
 and get acquainted and friendly as any, will spoil a thousand 
 dollar note. 
 
 " How about the third House ? " asked the last man in. 
 
 " The Lobby ? Oh, well, we have to use the lobby, 
 of course. It is generally safer to deal through a third 
 party. Gives one a chance to swear he did not authorize 
 anything of the kind, you know. The trouble of it is one 
 can't always tell how much the go-between is beating him. 
 I expect them to keep a good big per cent, of what passes 
 through their fingers, of course. One can't expect them to 
 act from disinterested motives entirely, but it isn't exactly 
 pleasant to learn, after the deal is closed, that some fellow 
 to whom you paid ten or twenty thousand dollars to do cer- 
 tain things with, has kept the whole of it and trusted to luck 
 to prevent your finding it out. However, I flatter myself 
 that such things don't occur very often. Anyway, one must 
 take the bitter with the sweet in life." 
 
 "I suppose that's so," replied the heavy man, "but I 
 hope you don't allow them to beat you out of such sums 
 often. But come, get out your memorandum, and let's get 
 down to business at once. I want to know what the whole 
 thing is going to cost us." 
 
 The three men drew close about the table, the tray with 
 the bottle and glasses being shoved to one side. The thin- 
 ner man produced a small morocco-covered memorandum 
 book with a gold clasp, in which were written the initials of 
 certain lobbyists, members of Congress and the Senate of the 
 United States. Opposite to these initials were the amounts 
 in pencil which he had either formally contracted to pay for
 
 314 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 the service which he desired at their hands, or which he 
 believed would be required to induce them to comply with 
 the wishes of the corporation which he represented. 
 
 The three conspirators spent a half hour in examining 
 these. Then followed a discussion of who among the candi- 
 dates for congress should be aided and who defeated, not 
 only upon the coast, but in other States and portions of the 
 Union, after which the two men last introduced arose to go. 
 As they did so, the heavy man poured out three glasses of 
 wine. Passing one to each of his companions, he raised the 
 other to his lips. 
 
 " Let us drink to the success of our enterprise," he said. 
 
 "And to the confusion of the people," added the thin- 
 ner man. 
 
 The third man scowled slightly, and glanced about him 
 with the least sign of nervousness, as if he feared that the 
 reckless language of the other might reach ears for which 
 it was not intended ; but he drank his wine and said 
 nothing. 
 
 The heavy man emptied his glass at a gulp, refilled and 
 again emptied it. " To the confusion of the people," he said, 
 repeating the words of the other. 
 
 Then following his guests to the door, he bowed them 
 out into the hall, and calling a page, bade him attend them 
 to a carriage in waiting, and returned to his private room.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN*. 315 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 CONSUMMATE VILLAINY. 
 
 / 
 
 When Erastus and Mrs. Parsons reached the Slough, they 
 found Lucy very sick; the shock received at learning of the 
 death of her father and Johnny, while in her feeble condi- 
 tion, having still further prostrated her and brought on a 
 low fever, from which her recovery was slow. 
 
 From the hour of her arrival, Lucy's mother became her 
 nurse, waiting upon and watching her with all a mother's 
 solicitude, and the new demands thus made upon her affec- 
 tions and sympathies, forced her in a measure to withdraw 
 her thoughts from the dead and fix them again upon the 
 things of this life, and so very probably prevented her from 
 sinking into a condition where morbid watchfulness for 
 death, as the only release from the memories of the past, 
 would have slowly consumed her life. 
 
 Then, too, there was the baby. A wonderful baby it was. 
 All babies are; at least in the opinion of their mothers and 
 grandmothers. 
 
 If there was ever, anywhere, an exception to this rule, 
 the writer never heard of it, and certainly this was not one. 
 
 The youngster was as fat as three- weeks-old babies ever 
 are, and of the same beautiful color. 
 
 He had a fine head of hair in prospect and had already 
 made two weak little attempts to put his toe into his mouth, 
 which everybody said was very remarkable and showed won- 
 derful genius in one so young, and Lucy "just knew he was 
 the sweetest baby that ever lived; so he was."
 
 316 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 She first thought of calling him Erastus, after his father, but 
 finally decided to name him John, after her own father and 
 little crippled brother, now dead and at rest upon the moun- 
 tain side. 
 
 After the arrival of the few household goods belonging 
 to Mrs. Parsons, the baby was placed in the little wheeled 
 cot that he might be the more easily cared for during his 
 mother's illness, and seeing him there, by degrees there came 
 to the breast of Mar. ha Parsons a feeling half as if this was 
 her own Johnny made well again by the angels, just as he 
 was when he first came to her. 
 
 But this could not remove wholly the awful sense of lone- 
 liness and loss, and the gray in her hair became more and 
 more prominent, and the stooping of her form more and 
 more noticeable as the days went by. 
 
 When Lucy's health was finally restored she again took 
 up her round of household duties known to every farmer's 
 wife, only permitting her mother to do such portion as seemed 
 a pleasure to her, and both she and Erastus sought in 
 every way possible to fill her declining years with comfort. 
 
 Meanwhile the contest between the Southern Pacific Rail- 
 road Company and the settlers continued. 
 
 Although having notified the settlers to vacate their 
 homes unless they were prepared to pay their full value, 
 including all improvements, the railroad company made no 
 immediate attempt to force compliance with their demands. 
 
 To do so would bring the whole matter prominently before 
 the country and raise such a storm of indignant protest from 
 the whole people as not only to force the company to relin- 
 quish their claim to the homes of the settlers, but to the entire 
 grant of many millions of acres. 
 
 The conspirators well knew that they had complied with 
 no portion of the terms required in the grant, and that until
 
 OR. JUST A CAMPIN . 317 
 
 they did so they could have no legal or equitable right 
 thereto. 
 
 They had decided, however, to obtain the land without 
 complying with the terms of the grant, and their policy was 
 to harass the settlers by threats, and in every way possible to 
 incite them to such acts of violence as would bring them in 
 conflict with the state or local authorities, while the officers 
 of the company stood ready to appease any public sentiment 
 that might be stirred up against themselves by asserting their 
 readiness to submit to arbitration or the decision of the 
 courts, and it was in pursuance of this policy that they made 
 no immediate attempts to enforce their orders to pay or 
 vacate. 
 
 When it became evident that they were to be forced into 
 a long and expensive contest in defense of their homes, the 
 settlers had formed themselves into a league, for the purpose 
 of employing counsel and taking whatever other steps were 
 possible for the protection of their rights. 
 
 An appeal was made to O. H. Browning, then Secretary 
 of the Interior, at Washington, for his decision regarding the 
 claims of the company and of the settlers. 
 
 Mr. Browning examined the matter carefully, listened 
 patiently to the arguments of the attorneys of the railroad 
 company and decided that the company had not built their 
 road upon the line specified in their charter, but had instead 
 built one hundred and fifty miles distant from that -line, 
 where they had no authority for building, and consequently 
 could have no possible claim to any portion of the 
 grant. 
 
 At the same time that he rendered this decision Secretary 
 Browning ordered the land commissioners to consider the 
 lands in California claimed by the railroad company open for 
 settlement, and to allow those claiming them under the home-
 
 3l8 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 stead and pre-emption laws to prove up and obtain their 
 patents from the government. 
 
 This decision was received by the settlers at the Slough 
 with glad and grateful hearts. 
 
 It secured them in their natural and acquired rights, and 
 was accepted as proof that the authorities at Washington 
 were beyond the power of the corruptionists, and that the 
 general government would continue to respect the rights of 
 the humblest of her citizens equally with those of the wealthy 
 and powerful. 
 
 With their love for and pride in their country and its 
 institutions strengthened by the justice of this decision of 
 one of its officials, those who were in a condition to do so at 
 once prepared their papers for proving up, but before they 
 could secure their patent from the government word came 
 that Mr. Browning had withdrawn the lands from market 
 and that they would not be permitted to receive their patent 
 until further notice. 
 
 The cause of this action on the part of the Secretary of 
 the Interior was the receipt of a request from a prominent 
 politician, who was a major-general in the Union army, 
 whom the railroad company had induced to intercede for 
 them, asking that further opportunity of presenting evidence 
 to show that they were entitled to the land in question be 
 given them. 
 
 This was but a trick of the conspirators to obtain time, 
 prevent the settlers from at once receiving their deeds from 
 the government, and give themselves opportunity to learn 
 where an influence could be found or purchased sufficiently 
 powerful to secure a permanent reversal of the decision of 
 the Secretary. 
 
 The Presidential campaign was coming on and they
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 319 
 
 hoped for a change of some kind that would enable them to 
 accomplish their dishonest purposes. 
 
 The settlers, although anxious and uneasy in their minds, 
 believed that the government would ultimately deal justly 
 with them, tended their orchards and vineyards as usual, and 
 added new fields to the territory already irrigated. 
 
 The election came and passed. 
 
 Grant was elected President and J. D. Cox, of Ohio, was 
 made Secretary of the Interior in place of Mr. Browning. 
 
 To Mr. Cox the officers of the railroad company applied 
 for a favorable decision upon their right to the lands in 
 question, bringing every influence possible to induce him to 
 do so, but without success. 
 
 Mr. Cox decided as Mr. Browning had done, that the 
 company had no right whatever to the land, and ordered it 
 again opened to pre-emption and homestead, and this de- 
 cision \vas sustained by the Attorney-General of the United 
 States, Hon. Charles Devans. 
 
 It is probable that Stanford, Crocker, and Huntington, 
 the leading conspirators and owners of the Southern Pacific 
 Railroad, had anticipated the nature of the decision and de- 
 cided in advance upon their course of action. 
 
 By means which may sometime be better known to the 
 public than at present, they procured the introduction into 
 the United States Senate of a joint resolution authorizing 
 the Southern Pacific Railroad Company to build its road "as 
 near as may be " on the line specified in their charter from 
 the State of California, and providing that when the road 
 should be built in compliance in other respects with the law 
 making the grant of lands, the Secretary of the Interior 
 should cause patents for the same to be issued to the com- 
 pany, "expressly saving and reserving the rights of actual 
 settlers."
 
 320 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 This resolution was referred to the Senate committee on 
 Pacific Railroads, whose chairman was friendly to the road, 
 and who immediately wrote to Secretary Cox, suggesting 
 that he withdraw his order permitting the settlers to prove 
 up on their claims until the committee could report, and the 
 Senate and House act upon the resolution. 
 
 Mr. Cox complied with the request, again withdrew the 
 lands from market and again the Mussle Slough settlers 
 were refused permission to present their proving-up papers 
 and receive a title to their homes. 
 
 No sooner was this accomplished than the attorneys for 
 the railroad company, in the Senate, in the House, and in 
 the Lobby, began the work of securing enough votes to pass 
 the resolution. 
 
 The settlers protested and petitioned against its passage, 
 but little attention was paid to their pleadings for justice. 
 
 The member of congress from the district through which 
 the road was being constructed was either incompetent or 
 in the pay of the road, and made but feeble efforts to defeat 
 the schemes of the corporation, and the Senators from Cali- 
 fornia were equally derelict in their duty. 
 
 Finally the settlers raised money among themselves and 
 sent an attorney to Washington to plead their cause for 
 them. 
 
 He returned with a Federal appointment in his pocket 
 and without having accomplished anything for those who sent 
 him, and the resolution in favor of the railroad company 
 passed both Houses. 
 
 The people at the Slough were now greatly discouraged, 
 but still not without hope. 
 
 The resolution plainly provided that the rights of actual 
 settlers should be respected, and they could not see how any 
 one could dispute the fact of their being such. Indeed it
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 321 
 
 was only by asserting that their rights were secured by that 
 clause of the resolution that enough members of the House 
 and Senate who were not absolute tools or partners of the 
 conspirators, were induced to vote for the resolution to 
 secure its passage. 
 
 Besides this, the railroad company, when its officers first 
 decided to" make an effort to seize upon the land in the 
 vicinity of the Slough, had issued circulars urging people to 
 come and take up land there, promising them that as soon 
 as the company received patents for the land from the gov- 
 ernment it would deed to the settlers, upon payment of the 
 price of wild land ; or at two and a half dollars per acre for 
 barren plains, such as most of the land at the Slough was ; 
 and that in no case would a price exceeding ten dollars per 
 acre be charged, even for timbered land. 
 
 A large portion of the settlers now at the Slough had 
 come in compliance with this invitation and agreement on 
 the part of the railroad company, and they still relied upon 
 the promise of the company, or thought the courts would 
 compel it to comply with the promise set forth in its circu- 
 lars a promise which became a binding contract when the 
 settlers, acting upon it, came upon the land and began to 
 improve it. 
 
 The officers of the company had, however, no intention 
 of complying with the promise, and their success in bribing 
 congress led them to feel that there was nothing to be feared 
 from the courts. 
 
 They demanded the full value of all lands, including 
 improvements, and claimed that the words "actual settlers" 
 in the resolution of congress, referred to such as govern- 
 ment had granted patents to before the passage of the act 
 making the grant of lands to the company; which was before 
 the first settler came to the Slough, and was of lands along 
 
 21
 
 322 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 the line proposed in their charter, distant one hundred and 
 fifty miles and on the other side of a range of mountains. 
 
 During all this time the settlers had held frequent meet- 
 ings and endeavored in every legal manner known to them 
 to defend their rights. 
 
 Erastus Hemmingway was always in attendance upon 
 these meetings, and although he said but little, what he did 
 say was always to the point, clear and forcible, and he came 
 to be regarded by all as one whose judgment was of value, 
 and who was ever prompt with his portion of the money 
 found necessary to be raised from time to time in defense of 
 their homes. 
 
 At last, and after repeated meetings and much discus- 
 sion, it was decided to make an offer to compromise with 
 the company as the cheapest way out of the difficulty, and a 
 letter was addressed to its chief officer, stating that while 
 they did not recognize either the legal or equitable claim of 
 the company to their lands, yet for the sake of being at 
 peace they would all pay the prices which those who came 
 by invitation of the company had been promised the land at; 
 or the price which a disinterested committee would say the 
 lands without the improvements were now worth; or the 
 price at which the company was now offering to sell raw 
 land of similar quality. 
 
 This would compel those who took homestead and pre- 
 emption claims before the company made any pretense of 
 being entitled to the land while it still professed to be in- 
 tending to build its road and take the lands upon the line 
 laid down in its charter to pay from two and a half to ten 
 dollars per acre for what they should have had for nothing 
 as homesteaders, or on payment of one dollar and a quarter 
 per acre to the government in case they claimed as pre-
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 323 
 
 emptors. But all were weary of the long contest and pre- 
 ferred peace at any price short of bankruptcy, rather than a 
 continuation of their troubles. 
 
 In reply to this offer of the settlers the president of the 
 company responded saying that they were willing to do what 
 should appear right, and requesting the settlers to select a 
 committee from among themselves to come to San Francisco 
 and confer with the representatives of the company. 
 
 This letter was read at a regular meeting of the Settlers' 
 League, and a committee immediately selected and author- 
 ized to act for the whole. 
 
 Among those chosen for this duty were Erastus Hem- 
 mingway and his neighbor Mr. Johnson. 
 
 The committee proceeded to San Francisco, put up at a 
 hotel and notified the railroad officials of their presence and 
 readiness to confer. 
 
 Instead of proceeding to the conference, however, one of 
 the officials went before the authorities, swore out warrants 
 and had them all arrested and conveyed to jail, where they 
 were locked up and forced to remain until morning, Barnes 
 having performed the work assigned him by the railroad 
 king as told in the previous chapter, and -notified the 
 business men of the city that it was the will of the railroad 
 company that no one should go bail for the arrested men, 
 and that the company would ruin the business of any one 
 who dared to do so. 
 
 After lying in jail all night they were taken before the 
 court and dismissed without a hearing, and in spite of their 
 protest and demands to be given an opportunity to explain 
 to the court the circumstances of their arrest, and so were 
 forced to return to their homes and their waiting neighbors 
 and report that no mercy was to be expected from those who
 
 324 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 had conspired to reduce them to serfdom upon their own 
 lands.* 
 
 Still these men retained possession of their homes, and 
 though they had ceased making improvements, were able to 
 obtain subsistence therefrom. 
 
 Time passed, and the railroad company obtained from the 
 government patents for the amount of land specified in the 
 original grant. 
 
 The road was not completed as the law making the grant 
 required that it should be before the patents should issue, 
 one hundred and ten miles of it being then, as now (1884), 
 untouched, and no portion of it being upon the line specified 
 in their charter, which was the only line upon which they 
 had the right to build a road, much less to claim a grant of 
 land for building, even under the resolution of congress, it 
 being plainly absurd to say that one hundred and fifty miles 
 was as near to their original line as it was possible to build. 
 
 The settlers were now powerless in the hands of the cor- 
 poration, which played with them much as a cat does with a 
 mouse before craunching its bones for the final act of swal- 
 lowing. 
 
 Their first act after having completed the road through 
 the Slough and formed connection with a road leading to 
 San Francisco, was to place the price of freight so high as to 
 consume the entire profit of all labor upon the irrigated 
 lands, thus seeking to prevent the settlers from obtaining 
 further means with which to continue the contest and trans- 
 form them into the serfs of the company. 
 
 The outside world during all this time remained in almost 
 
 * PUBLISHER'S NOTE. This part of the story may seem incredible ; but the 
 imprisonment of the committee that went to San Francisco upon the Invitation of the 
 railroad authorities, the appraisement of the lands at the price of farms, the attempted 
 eviction and the murdering of the settlers on the nth of May, 1880, occurred as 
 related.
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 325 
 
 absolute ignorance of the desperate attempt being made upon 
 the rights of a portion of our citizens. 
 
 The greater part of the press of the Pacific coast wore 
 the muzzle of the corporations, and only the most meagre 
 reports of these matters were sent out through the Asso- 
 ciated Press, and such as were sent were tinged with the col- 
 oring furnished by the conspirators. 
 
 The* first year after the completion of the main irrigating 
 ditch the settlers had set apart the eleventh day of May as a 
 day of general rejoicing, and thanksgiving for the harvest 
 which followed the coming of the waters, and through all 
 their troubles they had regularly observed it, their festivities 
 usually taking the form of a picnic, which was attended by 
 everybody, regardless of age or sex, and it was this eleventh 
 day of May, this festival day in 1880, that the corporate con- 
 spirators fixed upon for the consummation of their scheme 
 for possessing themselves of the homes of these people. 
 
 In order to secure fit tools for this purpose, the company 
 had made pretended sales of the homes of a portion of the 
 settlers to men of known desperate character, among others 
 to one named Crow, a noted desperado and crack-shot; and 
 it was these men whom the United States marshal was 
 ordered to take upon his raid of eviction. 
 
 The marshal left San Francisco before day and arrived 
 at Hanford, the station nearest the Slough lands, at seven 
 o'clock in the morning. 
 
 Here he was met by Crow with his gang of desperadoes 
 armed to the teeth, and all started together in wagons. 
 
 Crow carried two bulldog revolvers and a knife in his 
 belt, and had a repeating rifle and a double-barreled fowling 
 piece in the wagon in which he rode, and all bristled with 
 deadly weapons, principally revolvers and knives. 
 
 A.S was anticipated by the marshal, they arrived at the
 
 326 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 first house in the Slough settlement after its occupants had 
 left for the picnic. 
 
 Without ceremony the door of this peaceful dwelling was 
 broken down and everything in it pitched into the highway. 
 
 This done, they placed three No. 10 cartridges upon the 
 doorstep as an indication of the fate which awaited the 
 honest settler and his family if they dared replace their- 
 household goods and resume the occupancy of their home. 
 
 They then started in the direction of the next settler's 
 claim, intending to proceed in the same manner with each 
 of twenty-five houses against whose owners the marshal had 
 writs of ejectment. 
 
 But they were not destined to proceed so far. 
 
 Unknown to them the gang had been seen to leave Han- 
 ford by one who, surmising the nature of their errand, has- 
 tened to notify the settlers of what was about to be attempted. 
 
 Mounting a horse he rode with all speed, and, approach- 
 ing the picnic grounds, came first upon several parties who 
 had driven a little way back from the immediate scene of 
 festivities in order to find a suitable place for leaving their 
 teams and wagons. 
 
 Among them were Erastus Hemmingway and his neigh- 
 bor, Mr. Johnson. 
 
 To these men he communicated what he had observed, 
 and his belief regarding the intention of the marshal and his 
 gtmg of desperate characters. 
 
 All listened eagerly to the information brought by their 
 friend, and then held a hurried consultation among them- 
 selves. 
 
 Erastus, Johnson, and one of the others, were armed 
 with a single revolver of small calibre each. The rest were 
 without weapons of any kind. 
 
 They did not like to return to the picnic grounds and
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'. 327 
 
 frighten the women and children with an announcement of 
 what they believed was taking place; neither did they pro- 
 pose that their homes should be ravished and they make no 
 effort to defend them. 
 
 It was finally agreed that Hemmingway, Johnson, and 
 those who were with them, should hurry across country to a 
 point in the road about a mile away, over which the marshal 
 and his crowd must pass, while the friend who had brought 
 the information should quietly notify others and leave them 
 to follow or wait for a report from those who were in 
 advance, as they thought best. 
 
 Hurrying across the fields, this little body of men came 
 out into the road by which the gang were proceeding, just 
 in advance of the marshal and his party, as they approached 
 the cottage of the second victim marked upon their list for 
 eviction. 
 
 Seeing them, the marshal halted and got down from the 
 wagon in which he was riding. Crow and the others did the 
 same. 
 
 Approaching to within a few feet of the marshal, Erastus 
 demanded to know if it were true that they had come to evict 
 the settlers, and was told that they had. 
 
 " You will not be allowed to do so," replied Hemming- 
 way; "we redeemed these lands from the desert and gave 
 them all the value they possess. They belong to us and we 
 intend to hold them." 
 
 The marshal replied that " he was doing only what the 
 law and the court required of him, but that rather than use 
 force he would abandon the attempt." 
 
 But Crow and his gang thirsted for blood, and had been 
 ordered to prevent any abandonment of the object for which 
 they were sent. 
 
 Scarcely had the words of the marshal issued from his
 
 328 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 mouth when Crow drew his revolver and fired at Erastus, 
 thus giving the signal to the others of the gang, who at once 
 followed his example and emptied their revolvers into the 
 bodies of the innocent and almost defenseless men in front 
 of them. 
 
 Crow's first shot was aimed at Hemmingway's heart and 
 missed it by but a few inches. The bullet entered his left 
 breast and passed entirely through his body, but though 
 mortally wounded he succeeded in drawing his own revolver, 
 and, firing, killed one of the 'desperadoes on the spot. 
 
 One other of the gang was wounded by a shot fired by 
 Johnson, who was himself instantly killed by the second 
 volley of the desperadoes. 
 
 Two others of the settlers were killed outright and three 
 wounded; the latter by shots from the fowling piece of 
 Crow, who fired at them as they fled, and but for the fact 
 that the horses attached to the wagon, in which lay the 
 villain's revolving rifle, took fright and ran away, not one 
 of them would have escaped death. 
 
 . Terror-stricken the bleeding men sped on in the direction 
 of the picnic grounds, but had gone but a little distance when 
 they met a score of neighbors, who, having been told the 
 rumor of attempted evictions, had not waited for word from 
 the first party, but followed on after, leaving their panic- 
 stricken families to hitch up the teams and follow by the 
 longer way of the road. 
 
 To these men the news of the awful tragedy just enacted 
 was communicated, and a portion hurried forward while 
 others returned to find the families of the dead and wounded 
 men, if perchance they had not yet left the grounds, and 
 prepare them as best they could for the worst that could 
 occur.
 
 330 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 Meantime the marshal and his brutal allies had beat a 
 hasty retreat. 
 
 The former avoided Hanford and reached another 
 station, where he took the train for San Francisco. 
 
 Crow, attempting to follow on after his horses, was found 
 next day dead by the roadside, a bullet through his heart, 
 one hand clasping a bulldog revolver and the other his 
 double-barreled shotgun. 
 
 Erastus Hemmingway and the other murdered and dying 
 -victims of the conspiracy were tenderly lifted from the 
 ground and carried to their homes. 
 
 Lucy, with her mother and two children a second child, 
 a girl, having been born to them reached home in advance 
 of those who brought her wounded husband. 
 
 They had heard the most terrible rumors, and were tor- 
 tured by the most horrible fears, but were in ignorance of 
 what had actually occurred until the men came bearing the 
 bleeding body with its unconscious face and laid it at their 
 feet. 
 
 To those who cannot imagine the agony of these loving 
 hearts no description which the writer can give would con- 
 vey any meaning whatever. 
 
 Erastus lived until morning. 
 
 He was unconscious during the whole time, and died 
 without a word or look of recognition of those about him, 
 while wife and mother and children poured forth their an- 
 guish in tears and sobs as they watched the pulsing of the 
 heart grow fainter and fainter and felt the hands which they 
 clasped become colder and colder, as the death-damp gath- 
 ered upon the brow of him they loved. 
 
 When he was buried these two lone and widowed women, 
 the one in the prime of life, the other bowed and broken 
 and gray with years and sorrow, but more with sorrow than
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 331 
 
 with years, returned to their desolate home to clasp two 
 fatherless children to their breasts, and weep and moan, liv- 
 ing in daily fear of other attempts at eviction and other 
 tragedies until such time as death shall come to them, or 
 until the whole people shall waken from their slumbers, 
 throw off the fatal spell which binds them, and demand that 
 justice be done, and reparation made so far as may be. 
 
 Walking down one of the principal streets of Chicago 
 one day recently I met Ensign, the husband of Jennie Par- 
 sons. 
 
 He was not as well dressed as when I last saw him, and 
 his greeting had less of self confidence and manly independ- 
 ence than formerly. 
 
 In truth, I think he intended to pass without speaking, 
 but I stopped him and held out my hand. 
 
 " How do you do," I said; " and how is Jennie and the 
 babies ?" 
 
 " They are well, or as well as could be expected under 
 the circumstances," was the reply. 
 
 I feared that all was not exactly right with them, but 
 could not well appear to be inquisitive. I have a high' 
 respect for Ensign and his wife, and had no intention of 
 permitting them to drop from my list of friends, and I 
 said : 
 
 " I am coming out to spend an evening with you before 
 long if you will allow me. I suppose you are still living in 
 the same cottage on C street ?'' 
 
 " No," he replied, " they foreclosed and took that from 
 us more than a year ago; after we had more than half paid 
 for it, too. You see I was thrown out of my place by the 
 failure of the company I was at work for, and could not keep 
 UD the payments on the house and lot, and so lost all we had
 
 332 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 saved since coming here, together with what little we had 
 when we came." 
 
 ""And where are you living now ?" I asked. 
 
 He hesitated a little and then said: 
 
 " After we lost our place I got another job at one of the 
 mills, but was sick with the fever for a time, and when I got 
 up again I could get no steady employment, and we were 
 forced to rent some rather poor rooms on street, front- 
 ing on the railroad track. Well, the railroad company 
 claimed the ground that this building and others stood on 
 and wanted possession, so they ordered us put out without 
 ceremony. 
 
 " I came home from a long tramp after work one day 
 and found Jennie and the children on the sidewalk with 
 what few household goods we had left, crying their eyes out 
 with fear and anxiety." 
 
 "And then what?" I asked, seeing that he hesitated 
 again. 
 
 "Well, I was out of money, and rent had to be paid in 
 advance, and as we had nothing to pay with, and could not 
 borrow, we moved into an old building with another family 
 down by the river, until I can find work and rent a better 
 place. We don't call it living; it isn't living; it's only just a 
 camping; but what can a fellow do? I assure you there are 
 hundreds of other families in the city who are equally bad 
 off." 
 
 The story " Driven from Sea to Sea " is finished, no, 
 not finished. John Parsons and Erastus Hemmingway are 
 dead. One sleeps with his crippled child upon the mountain 
 side ; one lies buried in the valley, side by side with his 
 neighbors, who fell like him, the victims of the rapacious 
 greed of corporate conspirators on that fatal morning of
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN . 333 
 
 May, 1880 ; but Martha Parsons and Lucy Hemmingway 
 stilt live, and living still contend with a corporation for the 
 shelter above their heads and the heads of orphaned children. 
 With them battle others whose homes and farms are in 
 jeopardy from the same source. 
 
 Occasionally some settler, driven from his home, made 
 desperate by long-continued suffering, by wrongs oft re- 
 peated, takes vengeance upon the immediate author of his 
 woes ; and some man, some tool of the corporation sent to 
 hold possession of the land from which the settler has been 
 evicted, is found dead upon the spot where the wrong was 
 done.* Even as you read these lines and wonder if such 
 things are possible, honest settlers, not alone in California, 
 but in any of a dozen different States, it may be, are being 
 
 * The following article from the San Francisco Daily Examiner of November 
 13, 1883, shows that this terrible conflict is still going on: 
 
 THE LAST MUSSEL SLOUGH TRAGEDY. It is not surprising that another tragedy 
 has been added to the dark history of the Mussel Slough country. It is simply 
 another chapter in the old story of the conflict of might against right ; of a long suc- 
 cession of deep and deadly injuries ripening in a harvest of blood ; of the oppressed 
 striking at the oppressors ; of the victims of injustice and cruelty turning, as even 
 a worm will turn, and stinging the feet that trample on them. It has been so in every 
 land under the sun, and will be so as long as the world lasts. Traced to its source, 
 the biy^r enmities engendered flow from railroad greed and avarice. The -conflict 
 is simply one wherein organized wealth has sought to rob the settler of his home, 
 for the railroads will pillage the farmer of his home and lands as readily as they rob 
 the merchant and the tradesman. Everything is fish which comes to the railroad net. 
 
 It is not necessary for the Examiner to relate the history of these contests. 
 They are familiar to the people of the State. Such robberies have been so common as 
 to have lost even the semblance of novelty. Now and then the picture of remorseless 
 greed, of unsated avarice, is deepened with a tragedy, as in San Joaquin County 
 recently, when Patrick Breen lost his life. He took possession as a railroad tenant of 
 lands on the Moquelemos grant, dispossessing a settler of his home. Who killed him 
 it is not necessary to inquire. He drove away those who should have enjoyed these 
 lands in peace. And now the scene has shifted to the Mussel Slough country, memo- 
 rable for similar tragedies in the past. Two men, named McAuliffe and Riley, were the 
 other day put in possession, as railroad tenants, of settler Cockrell's property. Yester- 
 day McAuliffe was found dead, shot through the heart. He was the instrument 
 of the corporations, and their victim as well, since they are responsible even more than 
 the outlaw whose rifle has laid him lifeless on his new domain. The law, if it can 
 find the homicide, may hold him to account. But there is sometimes a sentiment 
 of rude justice which rises in conflict with the law, and this will justify men in defend-
 
 334 DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 driven from their homes, their altars overthrown, their 
 household gods destroyed, their lives sacrificed, their wives 
 widowed and their children made orphans. 
 
 No, the story is not yet finished; but so far as told it is 
 a true story. All of the main incidents have taken place 
 substantially as related. They are part of the history of our 
 country; have occurred to our own citizens, beneath the 
 shadow of our own flag. 
 
 Had it been other than a true story it might have ended 
 with a brighter picture; with the brightest and best of all 
 pictures the picture of a loving and honored old couple 
 enjoying the last years of their well-spent lives amidst scenes 
 of plenty and beauty, the work of nature and their own 
 hands; with loving children and laughing babies, the children 
 of their children about them. 
 
 As it is a true story it could not be told otherwise than 
 as it has been, and if the pictures presented have been sor- 
 rowful instead of pleasant ones, and if the reader has been 
 forced to weep, when, like the writer, he would prefer laugh- 
 ter to tears, it is not the writer's fault. 
 
 If sometime the people shall make it possible to write a 
 story in which, without being untrue to life as the great mass 
 of the people live it, the pleasant pictures shall crowd out 
 and force us and them to forget the sorrowful ones, then will 
 the writer of this be only too glad to write the sequel of 
 " Driven from Sea to Sea; or, Just a Campin'." 
 
 ing when it is possible, and avenging when it is not, their violated rights and pillaged 
 homes. 
 
 Breen and McAuliffe were but instruments of the corporations deceived and 
 betrayed, no doubt. It Is to be lamented that they foolishly undertook the tasks 
 assigned them. It is deplorable that they have lost their lives. If railroad rapacity is 
 insatiable, and violence results, it is a pity that the mere agents become the victims. 
 
 It is time for this wretched state of affairs to end. Too long have the grasping 
 corporations persisted in their dishonest work. They are deliberately breeding in this 
 State a spirit of vengeance that bodes them terrible evil. If it is possible for them to 
 learn wisdom, they will halt in their career of rapine and enter upon a policy of honesty 
 and peace.
 
 "DRIVEN FROM SEA TO S A/ 
 
 OR, JUST A. 
 
 . (7. P0S7", <//or of the Chicago Express. 
 
 MB. POST has spent much time and research in getting at the facts which It Illus- 
 trates. It first appeared In the Express as a serial, and attracted much attention by 
 Its startling exposure of outrages, which have been carried on under the cover of law, 
 but which amount to nothing less than legalized robbery. Many of the facts have 
 been suppressed by the press through corporation Influences, and are known to but 
 comparatively few people. The story will therefore make a great sensation, fortified 
 as it is with foot-notes, giving the facts upon which it is based, in a form that can- 
 not be controverted. 
 
 The Hon. GKO. W. JULIAN, for many years a member of Congress, after carefully 
 reading the story, says: "I have read ' Driven From Sea to Sea' with an interest 
 which never flagged for a moment. It is a graphic picture of the trials and sufferings 
 of a pioneer settler in his weary conflict with land-grabbers and railway corporations 
 in California, and will be keenly appreciated by thousands, who have had a kindred 
 experience. Asa contribution to the 'simple annals of the poor,' it deserves a place 
 by the side of 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' and it cannot fail to bear fruit in the coming 
 struggle between the organized rapacity of capital and the rights of humanity. It 
 embodies suggestions In political economy, and hints at reforms, which will help 
 wake up the people, while appealing to their sense of justice and their sensibility to 
 suffering. I have long felt the need of such a story, and am glad to find It so true to 
 life and so well written." 
 
 I IKI.KN WILMANS, who is widely known as a writer, and formerly one of the 
 editors of the Overland Monthly, says: "I read 'Driven From Sea to Sea' as it came 
 out in chapters. I do not think I got through a single chapter without crying; not 
 that the story is all pathetic, though It contains more true pathos than any I have 
 ever read, but it Is so true to nature. The style is the most truly natural and unaf- 
 fected of any novel that has appeared since the 'Vicar of Wakefleld.' I believe it will 
 come to be called 'The Great American Classic.' I have compared it most critically 
 with the stories of our leading authors, and find it greatly different In every respect. 
 The popular literature of the day seems elaborate and forced in comparison with this 
 book. It may be in part, because the story is true, and the author knew it, that he 
 told it with such an unquestioning appearance of truth. At all events, I never in all 
 my life read anything whose every page and line and word carries such conviction. 
 It must be a work of true art. I think It possible that the story writing of the day 
 has departed so far from nature, that some masterpiece was needed to found a new 
 school in this branch of literature, and that 'Driven From Sea to Sea' is the master- 
 piece. Men have given us books by the thousand in these last days, but they have not 
 given themselves In their books. But here Is a man in the truest sense of greatness, 
 and without knowing it, he has given himself so beautifully, so touchlngly In this 
 book, as to place the world under obligation to him." 
 
 Firioo, 
 
 J. E. DOWNEY & CO., 1 09 Wabash Av., Chicago.
 
 EDITED BY Cm C P^)STj AUTHOR OF 
 
 "DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; 
 
 OR, JUST A CAMPIN'," 
 
 aided by competent assistants, and a corps of contributors 
 among whom are some of the best known writers in the 
 country. 
 
 The Express is a large 7 -column, 8-page weekly, established 
 in 1823, and is devoted to literature, news, and a dissemi- 
 nation of the truths of the New School of Political 
 Economy. Keeping a record of crime and scandal is 
 not a part of its mission. 
 
 Price on Common News Paper, - - $1,OO per year. 
 On Fine Paper, suitable for Filing, - 1.5O " 
 
 Address, 
 
 CHICAGO EXPRESS, 
 
 Cor. 5th Ave. and Washington Street, CHICAGO, ILL.
 
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