The Cabin by the Live Oak, Chapters I-IV [pp. 197-205]

The Cabin by the Live Oak.
time, and I had thrown open the door
and taken a seat upon the log threshold
to enjoy the beauties of the day. The
occupant of the couch yet slumbered.
But one gets tired of doing anything
and of doing nothing, and so after a
while I rose and walked to the brow of
the hill, which commanded a better view
of the trail below.
The part of the creek valley that I
here overlooked was not being mined at
the time, though in later years, when the
riches deposited at its head were exhausted, it was torn to pieces; and I saw no
signs of life, except where a few burros
were placidly munching the bunch grass,
which was already sending up tender
shoots from the earth.
Turning in a few moments I happened
to glance at the cabin, and saw the negro at its door,,which he was trying to
close. I ran hurriedly back.
"What ails you, man?" I cried.
Don't you know that you must keep
quiet until you get more strength?"
He had fallen to the bed exhausted.
Looking up, he asked in a trembling
voice, "Wha' dose oder men?"
"I have seen no other men. There's
been no one here today but myself and
your Indian friend."
He passed his hand over his brow.
"But I done see'em, -no, I done
heah'em, an' see one."
"Where did you see any one?"
"Right dar by de chaparral. He was
stan'in' dar, lookin' dis way."
I went to the point he indicated, which
was only a few rods distant. There was
no person hidden in the chaparral, nor
did the softened earth of the hillside
give sign that any one had been there.
"You are mistaken, Abe," said I.
"You are weak yet, and imagine things.
Now try and compose yourself for
another nap, and get over your foolish
scare."
He tried to do as I advised, but in
vain. "Dar's no use, Marse," he said
after a little. "I's got one o' dem fits
on, and dar's no tellin' when I'11 sleep
agin. I kain't help it, an' I mout's well
talk."
He went on to tell me his story. When
he told his mistress what Julia said,
she was much disturbed, but would only
advise him to wait in patienee, and it
might be that Mrs. Harcourt would
think better of it after a while.
Soon after this the news of gold discoveries in California came, and everybody wanted to go. Then it turned out
that old Mr. Sawyer had left a big mortgage on the plantation, which would
be sold unless the mortgage was paid.
There were three sons, the Colonel, Robert, and Joe. They all talked about the
mortgage, and Robert wanted to sell off
all the horses, and cattle, and slaves,
and pay it that way. Colonel wanted to
go to California, and let the other boys
manage the farm. Abe had grown interested when he heard that, and had
thought that if he could come to California too, perhaps he could find a big
lump of gold and buy Julia.
To be brief, it turned out that Colonel
and Robert came, leaving Joe at home;
and Abe was allowed to come too, on
the promise to stay with the young men,
and work for them just the same as at
home.
They were not very successful, and
one day the Colonel had told Abe that
he might go to work for himself, promising him his freedom when he had paid
a thousand dollars to be sent back to
the old home.
Glad of this chance he went to work
at once. The boys left the camp and
took up a ranch in the valley. Abe
sent them money two or three times,
but he was n't very lucky, and though
he saw men make his price in a week,
at the end of a year he was not half paid
for.
One day he heard that the Colonel
had given up all idea of going back and
had sent for his family. He went down
to the valley to see them when they
1889.]
201