Bab Bab 7 · BOOK I CHAPTER VII

I was gaining in experience, and as I hurried down the canyon and the

morning burgeoned like a rose, my spirits mounted invincibly. It was the

joy of the open road and the care-free heart. Like some hideous

nightmare was the memory of the tunnel and the gravel pit. The bright

blood in me rejoiced; my muscles tensed with pride in their toughness; I

gazed insolently at the world.

So, as I made speed to get the sooner to the orange groves, I almost set

heel on a large blue envelope which lay face up on the trail. I examined

it and, finding it contained plans and specifications of the work we had

been at, I put it in my pocket.

Presently came a rider, who reined up by me.

"Say, young man, you haven't seen a blue envelope, have you?"

Something in the man's manner aroused in me instant resentment. I was

the toiler in mud-stiffened overalls, he arrogant and supercilious in

broadcloth and linen.

"No," I said sourly, and, going on my way, heard him clattering up the

canyon.

It was about evening when I came onto a fine large plain. Behind me was

the canyon, gloomy like the lair of some evil beast, while before me the

sun was setting, and made the valley like a sea of golden glaze. I

stood, knight-errant-wise, on the verge of one of those enchanted lands

of precious memory, seeking the princess of my dreams; but all I saw was

a man coming up the trail. He was reeling homeward, with under one arm a

live turkey, and swinging from the other a demijohn of claret.

He would have me drink. He represented the Christmas spirit, and his

accent was Scotch, so I up-tilted his demijohn gladly enough. Then, for

he was very merry, he would have it that we sing "Auld Lang Syne." So

there, on the heath, in the golden dance of the light, we linked our

hands and lifted our voices like two daft folk. Yet, for that it was

Christmas Eve, it seemed not to be so mad after all.

There was my first orange grove. I ran to it eagerly, and pulled four of

the largest fruit I could see. They were green-like of rind and bitter

sour, but I heeded not, eating the last before I was satisfied. Then I

went on my way.

As I entered the town my spirits fell. I remembered I was quite without

money and had not yet learned to be gracefully penniless. However, I

bethought me of the time-cheque, and entering a saloon asked the

proprietor if he would cash it. He was a German of jovial face that

seemed to say: "Welcome, my friend," and cold, beady eyes that queried:

"How much can I get of your wad?" It was his eyes I noticed.

"No, I don'd touch dot. I haf before been schvindled. Himmel, no! You

take him avay."

I sank into a chair. Catching a glimpse of my face in a bar mirror, I

wondered if that hollow-cheeked, weary-looking lad was I. The place was

crowded with revellers of the Christmastide, and geese were being diced

for. There were three that pattered over the floor, while in the corner

the stage-driver and a red-haired man were playing freeze-out for one of

them.

I drowsed quietly. Wafts of bar-front conversation came to me. "Envelope

... lost plans ... great delay." Suddenly I sat up, remembering the

package I had found.

"Were you looking for some lost plans?" I asked.

"Yes," said one man eagerly, "did you find them?"

"I didn't say I did, but if I could get them for you, would you cash

this time-cheque for me?"

"Sure," he says, "one good turn deserves another. Deliver the goods and

I'll cash your time-cheque."

His face was frank and jovial. I drew out the envelope and handed it

over. He hurriedly ran through the contents and saw that all were there.

"Ha! That saves a trip to 'Frisco," he said, gay with relief.

He turned to the bar and ordered a round of drinks. They all had a drink

on him, while he seemed to forget about me. I waited a little, then

pressed forward with my time-cheque.

"Oh that," said he, "I won't cash that. I was only joshing."

A feeling of bitter anger welled up within me. I trembled like a leaf.

"You won't go back on your word?" I said.

He became flustered.

"Well, I can't do it anyway. I've got no loose cash."

What I would have said or done I know not, for I was nigh desperate; but

at this moment the stage-driver, flushed with his victory at freeze-out,

snatched the paper from my hand.

"Here, I'll discount that for you. I'll only give you five dollars for

it, though."

It called for fourteen, but by this time I was so discouraged I gladly

accepted the five-dollar goldpiece he held out to tempt me.

Thus were my fortunes restored. It was near midnight and I asked the

German for a room. He replied that he was full up, but as I had my

blankets there was a nice dry shed at the back. Alas! it was also used

by his chickens. They roosted just over my head, and I lay on the filthy

floor at the mercy of innumerable fleas. To complete my misery the green

oranges I had eaten gave me agonizing cramps. Glad, indeed, was I when

day dawned, and once more I got afoot, with my face turned towards Los

Angeles.