The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1878-07-25
A CALIFORNIA ENOCH ARDEN.

eff there's one thing l like it is more
than another" soliloquized Five, think
ing himself unobserved. We heard him,
for all that, for he sat just outside the
cabin under the shed, watching, between
the whiffs of his pipe, the drip, drip
from the shingles, while the four of us
droned away at draw-poker inside. The
bar was fiourishing just them men were
drifting rapidly into Tuolumne, attract
ed by the reports of rich diggings, and
there was hardly square inch on the
bar that was not staked off with claim.
The one-streeted town was bustling, the
LIGHTHOUSES, stores, and saloons with
their usual loafers, were drawn up in
dress-parade along the thoroughfare, in
which pack trains now and then mean
dered to and from the outer world. The
doors of the Bella Union and the Blue
Wing continually swung open, as the
boys sent in for their hourly comforts.
The devotees of the gaming table held
high revels over the cloths, and empty
pouches and ringing heads were the
morning bulletins.
Our cabin stood little withdrawn
from the main street, the home of five of
us for many months. Those days are
past and gone, when Jack used to toss
his steaming slap-jacks up the chimney
and deity catch them on the outside
those days of almost unvarying pork
and beans, with very semi-occasional
taste of fresh beef. We knew quite well
each others history, so far as general
points went-all save that of Five, who
was an enigma. OF him, the only tangi-
BILE and discoverable mark was blue 5
and so he won his title. Aspare, nervous
little man, with black, sweeping mus
tache, careworn countenance, and a
restless eye. The force that draws men
together in pioneer times is inexplica-
BILE. Sim had been minister, had
slipped from grace, and foated to the
gold country. John Bunyan was
broken-down merchant from Troy, fond
of tipple, and master hand at story
Brannan had last come from Calcutta,
where he had been missionary, he said,
bat he thumbed jack too well for that.
Five and l, a runaway from home, made
up our household. Five, at first, we
used to ply with questions, but gaining
AOoA9 ~ Jul oAouuAC3 gave IL up. Ills
only live companion was his dog, a
brindled, sulky, snappish brute, with
stumpy tail. His faithfulness and love,
Withdrawn from every ore else, center
ed in his master. Five's chief solace
was his violin. When others sought the
saloon, he took his violin and whiled
away the hours with touching melodies,
soft, dreamy airs of home, or anon,
wild wailing stains that thrilled the soul.
Many time and oft have seen a knot
OF rough fellows hanging around cabin
at eventide, listening to the music as the
quiet air bore it sweetly to them, and
thus Five's violin was minister of COM
fort to many lonely man. He would
rarely play when asked, and then only
some ditty like the Wrecker's Daughter,
or Tom Bigbee's Snake, which would put
tits into fellows heels-reserving for
his own communion the strains that were
SO melting to all. And in this way he
found a companionship that compen-
stated him for his lack of friends. He
was commonly set down as musical
Portuguese, but the sequal will show
that the conjecture was far from right.
Hot! hot! terribly hot were the sum-
mer days, and l, unused to hard work,
dropped my shovel one burning after
noon, and went up to the shanty tired
and disguised. was surprised to find
Five at the house and in his bunk. for
ne had gone out with the rest, and was
always steady worker.
Sick, old man?'
Yes, lad, very sick, dead sick.
Bruce, lie down."
For the dog at his head growled vici.
ously as put my hand on Five's fore
head and found it almost blistering with
fever.
Not SO bad as that, old man, you're
good for many day yet. Have
~ don't understanding COOL"
l fetched him pan of water, and he
drank it, saying:
"What are you doing here at this
hour of the day?''
'I'm tuckered out, Five, and had to
give up.'
"Well, I'm obliged to you," and he
sank back into his blankets and fell into
deep slumber.
The next morning he was right again,
but after he recovered, he seemed to
open his heart to me, and often in the
dim, uncertain hours we talked of men
and things. heard his soliloquy, as
said before, and not long after, tired of
cards, went out to him.
swell, old man, what are you mourn
ing about nowP"
:" can hardly say, lad, but mostly of
home. don'tknow how much of a home
1t is now, but had wife and two chill
dren, and mother-in-law, which last
was poison, and I hope has bolted into
another and better world. Yer see. it's