# Life Amongst the Modocs: Unwritten History/Chapter 7

CHAPTER VII.
SNOW! NOTHING BUT SNOW.
UCH fearful scenes were the chief diversions of the camp. True, the miners did not, as a rule, take part in these bloody carnivals, but were rather the spectators in the circus. The men at The Forks, gamblers and the like, were the gladiators.
Of course, we had some few papers, very old ones, and there were some few novels on the creek; but there was no place of amusement, no neighbours with entertaining families, nothing but the monotony of camp and cabin-life of the most ungracious kind.
As for ourselves, I know the Prince had often hard work to keep his commissary department in tack. The butchers no longer competed for his patronage, and but for fear of his influence to their disadvantage, backed by something of real heart, as these mountain butchers mostly possess to an un common degree for men in their calling, they would have left him long ago. ​
We had a claim down among the boulders big as a barn, at the base of the cabin, in the creek; but if it contained any gold worth mentioning we had not yet had any real evidence of it.
We toiled let that be understood we two together. I, of course, was not strong, and not worth much ; but he, from dawn till dark, never took rest at all. He was in earnest a thoughtful man now. He was working on a new problem, and was concerned. Often at night, by the light of the pine- log fire, I would see the severe lines of thought across his splendid face, and wished that I, too, was a strong man, and such a man as this.
Sometimes he would talk to me of myself, lay plans for us both, and be quite delighted to find that I left all to him. I think he was half glad to find I was so helpless and dependent.
It was a severe and cruel winter. I remember one Sunday I went down to the claim and found a lot of Calif ornian quails frozen to death in the snow. They had huddled up close as possible ; tried to keep warm, but perished there, every one. Maybe this was because we had cut away all the under-brush up and down the creek and let in the cold and snow, and left the birds without a shelter.
The Prince was entirely without money now, and anything in the shape of food was fifty cents and a dollar a pound. The gay gambler was being put to the test. It was a great fall from his grand life of the year before. It remained to be seen if he would ​
be consumed in the fire, or would come out only brightened and beautified.
The cold weather grew sharply colder. One morning when I arose and went down to the stream to wash my hands and face, and snuff the keen, crisp air, the rushing mountain stream was still ; not even the plunge and gurgle underneath the ice. It was frozen stiff and laid out in a long white shroud of frost and ice, and fairy- work by delicate hands was done all along the border ; but the stream was still- dead, utterly dead.
The strip of sky that was visible above us grew dark and leaden. Some birds flew frightened past, crossing the canon above our heads and seeking shelter ; and squirrels ran up and down the pines and frozen hillsides in silence and in haste. We in stinctively, like the birds, began to prepare for the storm, and stored in wood all day till a whole corner of the cabin was filled with logs of pine and fir, sweet-smelling juniper and manzanita to kindle with, and some splinters of pitch, riven from a sugar pine seamed and torn by lightning, up the hill.
The Prince kept hard at work, patient and cheerful all day, but still he was silent and thought ful. I did not ask him any questions ; I trusted this man, loved him, leaned on him, believed in him solely. It was strange, and yet not strange, con sidering my fervid, passionate nature, my inex perience and utter ignorance of men and things. But he was worthy. I had never seen a full, ​
splendid, sincere, strong man like this. I had to have some one some thing to love ; it was a ne cessity of my nature. This man answered all, and I was satisfied. Had he called to me some morning and said, u Come, we will start north now, through this snow ;" or, u Come, let us go to the top of Mount Shasta, and warm us by the furnace of the volcano there," I had not hesitated a moment, never ques tioned the wisdom and propriety of the journey, but followed him with the most perfect faith and undoubting zeal and energy.
The next morning there was a bank of snow against the door when I opened it. The trail was level and obliterated. Snow! Snow! Snow! The stream that had lain all day in state, in its shroud of frost and fairy-work, was buried now, and beside the grave, the alder and yew along the bank bent their heads and drooped their limbs in sad and beautiful regret ; a patient, silent sorrow !
Over across from the cabin the mountain side shot up at an angle almost frightful to look upon, till it lost its pine-covered summit in the clouds, and lay now a slanting sheet of snow.
The trees had surrendered to the snow. They no longer shook their sable plumes, or tossed their heads at all. Their limbs reached out no more triumphant in the storm, but drooped and hung in silence at their sides quiet, patient, orderly as soldiers in a line, with grounded arms. Back of us the same scene was lifted to the clouds. Snow ! Snow ! Snow ! ​
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nothing but snow! To right and to left, up and down the buried stream, were cabins covered with snow, white and cold as tombs and stones of marble in a churchyard.
And still the snow came down steadily and white, in flakes like feathers. It did not bloAV or bluster about as if it wanted to assert itself. It seemed as if it already had absolute control ; rather like a king, who knows that all must and will bow down before him. Steady and still, strong and stealthy, it came upon us and possessed the earth. Not even a bird was heard to chirp, or a squirrel to chatter or protest. High over head, in the clouds as it seemed, or rather back of us, a little on the steep and stu pendous mountain, it is true a coyote lifted his nose to the snow, and called out dolefully ; but that, may be, was a call to his mate across the canon, in the clouds on the hill-top opposite. That was all that could be heard.
The trail was blocked, and the butcher came no more. This was a sad thing to us. I know that more than once that morning the Prince went to the door, and looked up sharply toward the point where the mule made his appearance when the trail was open, and that his face expressed uncommon concern when he had settled in his mind that the beef supply was at an end.
It is pretty certain that the two butchers had been waiting for some good excuse to shut up shop with out offending the miners, until their claims s ​hould
be opened in the spring. This they now had, and at once took advantage of the opportunity.
In these days no man thought of refusing credit. A man who had said " No credit ! " would have had " no business " in the mines. Any merchant, saloon keeper, or butcher, who had had the littleness and audacity to have put up the sign u No tick," now so frequent in mining camps and border towns, at that time would have stood a first-rate chance of having his house pulled down about his ears. These men had a strangely just way of doing things in the early days. They did not ask for credit often, but when they did they wanted it, needed it, and woe then to the man who refused. Every man in the camp was told of it, in no modified form, you may be sure ; and that shop and that man were, at the least, shunned thereafter, as if one had been a pest-house and the other the keeper of it.
We could mine no more, could pick-and-shovel no more, with frosty fingers, in the frozen ground, by the pine-log fire, down by the complaining, troubled little stream. The mine was buried with the brook.
I used to think some strange and sympathetic things of this stream, even in our hardest battles for a respectable existence on its banks, that gloomy, weary winter. That stream was never satisfied. It ran, and foamed, and fretted, hurried and hid under the boughs and bushes, held on to the roots and grasses, and lifted little white hands as it ran to ward the Klamat, a stronger and braver brother, as ​
if there were grizzlies up the gorge where it came from. At best, it had but a sorry time, even before the miners came. It had to wedge itself in between the foot-hills, and elbow its way for every inch of room. It was kicked and cudgelled from this foot hill to that ; it ran from side to side, and worked, and wound, and curved, and cork-screwed on in a way that had made an angler sorry. Maybe, after all, it was glad to fold its little icy hands across its fretted breast, and rest, and rest, and rest, stiff and still, beneath the snow, below the pines and yew and cedar trees that bent their heads in silence by the sleeper.
The Kanaka sugar-mat was empty ; the strip of bacon that had hung in the corner against the wall was gone, and the flour-sack grew low and sugges tive.
Miners are great eaters in the winter. Snuff the fierce frost weather of the Sierras, run in the snow, or delve in the mine through the day, and roast by a great pine fire through the evening, and you will eat like an Englishman.
The snow had fallen very fast ; then the weather settled cold and clear as a bell. The largest arid the brightest stars, it seemed to me, hang about and above Mount Shasta in those cold, bright winter nights of the north. They seem as large as Cali fornia lilies ; they flash and flare, and sparkle and dart their little spangles ; they lessen and enlarge, and seem to make signs, and talk and und ​erstand
each other, in their beautiful blue home, that seems in the winter time so near the summit of the moun tain.
The Indians say that it is quite possible to step from this mountain to the stars. They say that their fathers have done so often. They lay so many great achievements to their fathers. In this they are very like the white man. But maybe, after all, some of their fathers have gone from this mountain-top to the stars. Who knows ?
We could do nothing now but get wood, cook, and eat. It did not take us long to cook and eat.
The bill of fare was short enough. Miners nearly always lay in a great store of provisions enough to last them through all the winter, as no stores or supply posts are kept open when the mines are closed, as they were then. With us that was impos sible. All the others up and down the stream, with few exceptions, had complete supplies on hand, and had a good and jovial time generally.
They got wood, made snow shoes, cleared off race tracks, and ran races by hundreds on great shoes, twelve and fifteen feet in length, or made coasting places on the hillsides, and slid down hill.
At night, many would get out the old greasy pack of cards, sit before the fire, and play innocent games of old sledge, draw poker, euchre or whist, while some would read by the pine-log light ; others, possessed with a little more devilment, or restlessness, maybe, or idle curiosity, would take the singl ​e deep-
cut trail that led to The Forks, and bring up down at the crackling, cheerful fire-place of the Howlin Wilderness.
The Prince and I sometimes went to town too. It was dull work sitting there, us two, in the warm little log-cabin, covered all up in snow, with nothing to read, nothing in common to talk of, and him, full of care and anxiety about the next day s rations, and the next ; and it was a blessed relief to sometimes go out, mix in a crowd and see the broad-breasted, ruddy-faced men, and hear their strong and hearty voices, even though the utterances of some were often thick with oaths and frequent violations of the laws of grammar.
One morning we had only bread for breakfast. The Prince was gloomy and silent as we sat down. He did not remain long at the table. He stood by the fire and watched my relish of the little breakfast with evident satisfaction.
" Little one," said he, at last, "it is getting mighty rocky. I tell you the grass is shorter than it ever was with us before, and what to do next I do not know."
There was something affecting in the voice and manner. My breakfast was nearly choking me, and I tried to hide my face from his. I got up from the table, went to the door and looked across into the white sheet of snow hung upon the mountain opposite, got the air, came back, kicked the fire vigorously r and turned and stood by his side with my back to the fi ​re also.
The weather was still clear and cold. There was, of course, no absolute need of going hungry there, as far as we two were concerned, if we had had the courage, or rather the cowardice, to ask for bread.
But this man was a proud man and a complete man, I take it; and when a man of that nature gets cornered, he is going -to endure a great deal before he makes any sign. A true man can fight, he can kill, but he cannot ask for quarter. Want only makes such a man more sensitive. Distress only intensifies his proud and passionate nature, and he prepares himself for everything possible but an appeal to man. Besides, this man was not altogether a miner. He had never felt that he had won his place among the brawny, broad-shouldered men, who from the first, and all through life, had borne and accepted the common curse that fell on man through the first transgression, and he had always held himself some what aloof.
Perhaps he was fighting a battle with himself. Who knows? It seems to me now, although I had no thought of such a thing then, that he had made a resolve within himself to make his bread by the sweat of his brow, to set a good example to one whom fate had given into his charge, and never turn back or deviate from the one direction. To have asked for help from men of the old calling would have meant a great deal that he was not willing to admit, even if help had been forthcoming, which, as I have said, was extremely problematical. ​
What that man must have felt would be painful to consider. As for myself, I did not take in all the situation, or really half of it. This man, somehow, stood to me like a tower. I had no fear.
The weather was still intensely cold. That after noon the Prince said :
u Come, we will go to town."