Kabanata Kabanata 10 · BOOK I CHAPTER X

What with steamer fare and a few small debts to settle, I found when I

landed in San Francisco that once more I was flatly broke. I was

arrestively seedy, literally on my uppers, for owing to my long tramp my

boots were barely holding together. There was no letter for me, and

perhaps it was on account of my disappointment, perhaps on account of my

extreme shabbiness, but I found I had quite lost heart. Looking as I

did, I would not ask any one for work. So I tightened my belt and sat in

Portsmouth Square, cursing myself for the many nickels I had squandered

in riotous living.

Two days later I was still drawing in my belt. All I had eaten was one

meal, which I had earned by peeling half a sack of potatoes for a

restaurant. I slept beneath the floor of an empty house out the Presidio

way.

On this day I was drowsing on my bench when some one addressed me.

"Say, young fellow, you look pretty well used up."

I saw an elderly, grey-haired man.

"Oh no!" I said, "I'm not. That's just my acting. I'm a millionaire in

disguise, studying sociology."

He came and sat by me.

"Come, buck up, kid, you're pretty near down and out. I've been

studyin' you them two days."

"Two days," I echoed drearily. "It seems like two years." Then, with

sudden fierceness:

"Sir, I am a stranger to you. Never in my life before have I tried to

borrow money. It is asking a great deal of you to trust me, but it will

be a most Christian act. I am starving. If you have ten cents that isn't

working lend it to me for the love of God. I'll pay you back if it takes

me ten years."

"All right, son," he said cheerfully; "let's go and feed."

He took me to a restaurant where he ordered a dinner that made my head

swim. I felt near to fainting, but after I had had some brandy, I was

able to go on with the business of eating. By the time I got to the

coffee I was as much excited by the food as if I had been drinking wine.

I now took an opportunity to regard my benefactor.

He was rather under medium height, but so square and solid you felt he

was a man to be reckoned with. His skin was as brown as an Indian's, his

eyes light-blue and brightly cheerful, as from some inner light. His

mouth was firm and his chin resolute. Altogether his face was a curious

blend of benevolence and ruthless determination.

Now he was regarding me in a manner entirely benevolent.

"Feel better, son? Well, go ahead an' tell me as much of your story as

you want to."

I gave an account of all that had happened to me since I had set foot

on the new land.

"Huh!" he ejaculated when I had finished. "That's the worst of your

old-country boys. You haven't got the get-up an' nerve to rustle a job.

You go to a boss an' tell him: 'You've no experience, but you'll do your

best.' An American boy says: 'I can do anything. Give me the job an'

I'll just show you.' Who's goin' to be hired? Well, I think I can get

you a job helpin' a gardener out Alameda way."

I expressed my gratitude.

"That's all right," he said; "I'm glad by the grace of God I've been the

means of givin' you a hand-up. Better come to my room an' stop with me

till somethin' turns up. I'm goin' North in three days."

I asked if he was going to the Yukon.

"Yes, I'm goin' to join this crazy rush to the Klondike. I've been

minin' for twenty years, Arizona, Colorado, all over, an' now I am

a-goin' to see if the North hasn't got a stake for me."

Up in his room he told me of his life.

"I'm saved by the grace of God, but I've been a Bad Man. I've been

everything from a city marshal to boss gambler. I have gone heeled for

two years, thinking to get my pass to Hell at any moment."

"Ever killed any one?" I queried.

He was beginning to pace up and down the room.

"Glory to God, I haven't, but I've shot.... There was a time when I

could draw a gun an' drive a nail in the wall. I was quick, but there

was lots that could give me cards and spades. Quiet men, too, you would

never think it of 'em. The quiet ones was the worst. Meek, friendly,

decent men, to see them drinkin' at a bar, but they didn't know Fear,

an' every one of 'em had a dozen notches on his gun. I know lots of

them, chummed with them, an' princes they were, the finest in the land,

would give the shirts off their backs for a friend. You'd like them--but

Lord be praised, I'm a saved man."

I was deeply interested.

"I know I'm talking as I shouldn't. It's all over now, an' I've seen the

evil of my ways, but I've got to talk once in a while. I'm Jim Hubbard,

known as 'Salvation Jim,' an' I know minin' from Genesis to Revelation.

Once I used to gamble an' drink the limit. One morning I got up from the

card-table after sitting there thirty-six hours. I'd lost five thousand

dollars. I knew they'd handed me out 'cold turkey,' but I took my

medicine.

"Right then I said I'd be a crook too. I learned to play with marked

cards. I could tell every card in the deck. I ran a stud-poker game,

with a Jap an' a Chinaman for partners. They were quicker than white

men, an' less likely to lose their nerve. It was easy money, like taking

candy from a kid. Often I would play on the square. No man can bluff

strong without showing it. Maybe it's just a quiver of the eyelash,

maybe a shuffle of the foot. I've studied a man for a month till I found

the sign that gave him away. Then I've raised an' raised him till the

sweat pricked through his brow. He was my meat. I went after the men

that robbed me, an' I went one better. Here, shuffle this deck."

He produced a pack of cards from a drawer.

"I'll never go back to the old trade. I'm saved. I trust in God, but

just for diversion I keep my hand in."

Talking to me, he shuffled the pack a few times.

"Here, I'm dealing; what do you want? Three kings?"

I nodded.

He dealt four hands. In mine there were three kings.

Taking up another he showed me three aces.

"I'm out of practice," he said apologetically. "My hands are calloused.

I used to keep them as soft as velvet."

He showed me some false shuffles, dealing from under the deck, and other

tricks.

"Yes, I got even with the ones that got my money. It was eat or be

eaten. I went after the suckers. There was never a man did me dirt but I

paid him with interest. Of course, it's different now. The Good Book

says: 'Do good unto them that harm you.' I guess I would, but I wouldn't

recommend no one to try and harm me. I might forget."

The heavy, aggressive jaw shot forward; the eyes gleamed with a fearless

ferocity, and for a moment the man took on an air that was almost

tigerish. I could scarce believe my sight; yet the next instant it was

the same cheerful, benevolent face, and I thought my eyes must have

played me some trick.

Perhaps it was that sedate Puritan strain in me that appealed to him,

but we became great friends. We talked of many things, and most of all I

loved to get him to tell of his early life. It was just like a story:

thrown on the world while yet a child; a shoeblack in New York, fighting

for his stand; a lumber-jack in the woods of Michigan; lastly a miner in

Arizona. He told me of long months on the desert with only his pipe for

company, talking to himself over the fire at night, and trying not to go

crazy. He told me of the girl he married and worshipped, and of the man

who broke up his home. Once more I saw that flitting tiger-look appear

on his face and vanish immediately. He told me of his wild days.

"I was always a fighter, an' I never knew what fear meant. I never saw

the man that could beat me in a rough-an'-tumble scrap. I was uncommon

husky an' as quick as a cat, but it was my fierceness that won out for

me. Get a man down an' give him the leather. I've kicked a man's face to

a jelly. It was kick, bite an' gouge in them days--anything went.

"Yes, I never knew fear. I've gone up unarmed to a man I knew was heeled

to shoot me on sight, an' I've dared him to do it. Just by the power of

the eye I've made him take water. He thought I had a gun an' could draw

quicker'n him. Then, as the drink got hold of me, I got worse and worse.

Time was when I would have robbed a bank an' shot the man that tried to

stop me. Glory to God! I've seen the evil of my ways."

"Are you sure you'll never backslide?" I asked.

"Never! I'm born again. I don't smoke, drink or gamble, an' I'm as happy

as the day's long. There was the drink. I would go on the water-wagon

for three months at a stretch, but day and night, wherever I went, the

glass of whisky was there right between my eyes. Sooner or later it got

the better of me. Then one night I went half-sober into a Gospel Hall.

The glass was there, an' I was in agony tryin' to resist it. The speaker

was callin' sinners to come forward. I thought I'd try the thing anyway,

so I went to the penitents' bench. When I got up the glass was gone. Of

course it came back, but I got rid of it again in the same way. Well, I

had many a struggle an' many a defeat, but in the end I won. It's a

divine miracle."

I wish I could paint or act the man for you. Words cannot express his

curious character. I came to have a great fondness for him, and

certainly owed him a huge debt of gratitude.

One day I was paying my usual visit to the Post Office, when some one

gripped me by the arm.

"Hullo, Scotty! By all that's wonderful. I was just going to mail you a

letter."

It was the Prodigal, very well dressed and spruce-looking.

"Say, I'm so tickled I got you; we're going to start in two days."

"Start! Where?" I asked.

"Why, for the Golden North, for the land of the Midnight Sun, for the

treasure-troves of the Klondike Valley."

"You maybe," I said soberly; "but I can't."

"Yes you can, and you are, old sport. I fixed all that. Come on, I want

to talk to you. I went home and did the returned prodigal stunt. The old

man was mighty decent when I told him it was no good, I couldn't go into

the glue factory yet awhile. Told him I had the gold-bug awful bad and

nothing but a trip up there would cure me. He was rather tickled with

the idea. Staked me handsomely, and gave me a year to make good. So here

I am, and you're in with me. I'm going to grubstake you. Mind, it's a

business proposition. I've got to have some one, and when you make the

big strike you've got to divvy up."

I said something about having secured employment as an under-gardener.

"Pshaw! you'll soon be digging gold-nuggets instead of potatoes. Why,

man, it's the chance of a lifetime, and anybody else would jump at it.

Of course, if you're afraid of the hardships and so on----"

"No," I said quickly, "I'll go."

"Ha!" he laughed, "you're too much of a coward to be afraid. Well, we're

going to be blighted Argonauts, but we've got to get busy over our

outfits. We haven't got any too much time."

So we hustled around. It seemed as if half of San Francisco was

Klondike-crazy. On every hand was there speculation and excitement. All

the merchants had their outfitting departments, and wild and vague were

their notions as to what was required. We did not do so badly, though

like every one else we bought much that was worthless and foolish.

Suddenly I bethought me of Salvation Jim, and I told the Prodigal of my

new friend.

"He's an awfully good sort," I said; "white all through; all kinds of

experience, and he's going alone."

"Why," said the Prodigal, "that's just the man we want. We'll ask him to

join us."

I brought the two together, and it was arranged. So it came about that

we three left San Francisco on the fourth day of March to seek our

fortunes in the Frozen North.

BOOK II

THE TRAIL

Gold! We leaped from our benches. Gold! We sprang from our stools.

Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired with the faith of fools.

Fearless, unfound, unfitted, far from the night and the cold,

Heard we the clarion summons, followed the master-lure--Gold!