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Flip: A California Romance


by Bret Harte









CHAPTER I





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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

silences beyond。  Sunburned and anxious faces yearned toward it

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

induced the wildest exaltation。  The heated air was filled and

stifling with resinous exhalations。  The delirious spices of balm;

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

aromatic herbs as yet unclassified; distilled and evaporated in

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

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

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

became furious and ungovernable under their influence; wearied

teamsters and muleteers; who had exhausted their profanity in the

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

extended their vocabulary; and created new and startling forms of

objurgation。  It is recorded that one bibulous stage…driver

exhausted description and condensed its virtues in a single phrase:

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

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

after。



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

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

known to have penetrated deeply its mysterious recesses。  It was

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

intruding foot of hunter and prospector; and the inquisitive patrol

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

unnoticed; a scarcely distinguishable mound of dust in the broken

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

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

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

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

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

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

face; his hands were shapeless stumps exaggerated in his trailing

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

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

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

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

maddened and upheld by the smarting spices and stimulating aroma

of the air; he kept on his course。



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

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

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

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

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

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

fainter; more musical interruptionthe glassy tinkle of water!  A

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

still closely canopied by the interlacing boughs overhead。  A tiny

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his revolver and tobacco pouch。



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

shining with irrepressible good humor and youthful levity。  His

large blue eyes were infantine in their innocent surprise and

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

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

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

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

familiar had failed to detect Lance Harriott in this hideous

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

passing stranger have recognized in this blond faun the possible

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

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

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

mere picnicking bower。



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

remaining branches aside。



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

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

of the mountain; which in the Coast Range was seldom wooded。  The

spiced thicket stretched between him and the summit; and again

between him and the stage road that plunges from the terrace; like

forked lightning into the valley below。  He could command all the

approaches without being seen。  Not that this seemed to occupy his

thoughts or cause him any anxiety。  His first act was to disencumber

himself of his tattered coat; he then filled and lighted his pipe;

and stretched himself full…length on the open hillside; as if to

bleach in the fierce sun。  While smoking he carelessly perused the

fragment of a newspaper which had enveloped his tobacco; and being

struck with some amusing paragraph; read it half aloud again to some

imaginary auditor; emphasizing its humor with an hilarious slap upon

his leg。



Possibly from the relaxation of fatigue and the bath; which had

become a vapor one as he alternately rolled and dried himself in

the baking grass; his eyes closed dreamily。  He was awakened by

the sound of voices。  Th

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