The record-union. [volume] (Sacramento, Calif.) 1891-1903, 1892-06-25
e BIRTHSTONE CAMP"
Written for the RECoRD-UNIoN by Gale
Braith.


1t is noisier than usual in Birthstone
Camp this evening. Loud, deep curses
and blasphemous oaths, mingled with
snatches of rude song, fill the poisonous
air OF Tim Brophy's barroom, reeking
with the sickening odor of vile tobacco
and foul with the disgusting smell Of
strong grog.
Sitting upon broken boxes, or barrels
with murderous looking knives. or dag
gers, thrust into their wide leather belts
and clay-stained trouser- pockets-every
nationality is here representative ma
jority with slouched, wide rimmed
hats pulled far over their shifting, fugi-
tive eyes.
| 1t is an interesting study to note the
different manner in which a man wears
his hat. Over his brows, treachery, muir
derous; upon the side, careless, reckless;
upon the back of his head, jolly, honest,
straightforward; set straight upon his
head, cautious, selfish, cowardly.
Here to the left, seated around an up
turned barrel, are noisy trio each with
q half-emptied tin of grog before him.
The game is evidently not going TO suit
the largest and tallest Of these men
English Georgia. great, powerful tel
low with the form and shoulders of a
Hercules, the most antagonistic, abusive
| Dully IN the camp. He Is arguing loud
and tiercely now with tiery-haired son
of Erin. Each man fingers cautiously his
ever-ready and well-loved knife. Their
companion is an American, quiet, indo-
lent, alert, regarding with lazy, indif-
terent smile the dispute between his
partners.
| 10 tho rirbt ic Hons tho croOd p,+,,roFl
German, just in the act Of discarding his
three greasy impaired cards. Opposite
to him, with the chips piled in q tower
ing heap, is his partner, BieXetto Pile
neto, a swarthy Italian, most repulsive
in face and figure, darker and more for
bidding by contrast with his sandy
haired, jolly companion. He is win
ming largely, however, and, to give vent
| to his satisfaction, whistles loudly few
| bars from the "Garibaldi March,"
a group of, perhaps, ten are at the far
thest end Of this room. Among them is a
boy whose rusty hat is pushed far back
ward, disclosing pair of wide, blue
eyes, above which shines careless mass
OF sunny, curly hair, brushed impatient
~ from off his smooth, white forehead.
The fever of play is upon this handsome
lad. The blue eyes are unnaturally
bright and deep spot of crimson burns
in either round cheek. Seventeen sum
mers can scarcely have passed over his
bright, young head This is Willie, the
favorite and especial pet of Birthstone
! Camp. Seated apart, with barred head, a
short clay-pipe between his lips, from
which he emitS numerous curling rings,
! is the new clergyman, alone and quiet,
with hands buried deep in his coat pock-
ets-a handsome, strong young fellow,
not at all like the orthodox clergy in
W hite tie and broadcloth, but simply
| dressed n rOnOh twlp6 SIlIt which has
seen it's best days.
When he came among them the men
fully intended running him out of camp
as they did his numerous predecessors,
but somehow he was an independent
| chap who could handle pick and shovel
with the best of them, therefore they suf-
fered him to remain. He preached out
doors the Sunday previous to congrega-
ton Of about half a dozen less hardened
miners, and was, for a wonder, not mo-
Tested.
The noise is at it's highest when Peggy
enters, walking with the free, easy grace
| of some wild, untamed animal, gorgeous
in barbaric splendor, with the yellow gold
dust sprinkled thickly in her sombel
hair, a great bunch of half withered wild
| flowers fastened at her breast. Beautiful
she is, yet with such a restless, change
full charm about her, it would be difficult
to study infinitely the brilliant loneliness
VI ILLS llGICc anu IGCAlOSS creature whose
eyes sean swiftly the rough, unshaven
faces before her, until they finger upon
| English George. From him they turn
upon Willie, and she is Immediately by
his side.
''How goes the luck, Willie?"
The boy stops to press the hand which
| is lying upon his shoulder with a gen
tie, loving touch.
Pm almost cleaned out, Peg. Dan
here has scooped the whole swag''
She raised the boys cup to her lips
swallowing drop or two. A score OF
voices cry, ga song, Peggy. Come, give
US song, won't your"
The girl, unheeding the request, calmly
| lights a cigarette.
"Will you sing, Peg?" asks the boy
coaxingly.
Yes" coolly between the puf1s oil
smoke; but blamed ii I'll sing to the
beggars for nothing. Pass your hat,
Willie, and ii you bring it back full it's a
CO."
The hat is soon returned filled to over
! flowing with the yellow, shining mug
gets, and Peggy's glorious, rollicking
voice rang out:
The Pope, he leads happy life,
No maid has he, nor married wife,
| no child has he to raise his hope
LIDO not wish were the Pope.
The Sultan better pleases me;
His is q life of olllty,
| With wives many as he will
The Sultan'S throne ia rather fill.
But then he's not happy man,
He must obey the old Koran;
He dare not touch one drop of wine
do not wish his lot were mine
So now I'll take my lonely stand
In Australia FeliX-happy land.
| Ill kiss my maiden fair and fine
And drink tke best of Rhenish wine
And when my maiden kisses me
III fancy l, the sultan be;
| And when my rosy glass thope
Pl fancy that am the Pope.
At the conclusion deafening uproar
| arises.
'Twig the parson. Peggy" says Eng
| lish George, who has made his way to
the girls side. A look OF devilish mis-
chief flashes in her eyes. Quick as
thought she raises her revolver. and
taking steady aim, knocks the short CLAW
! pipe from the young mans mouth; but,
in an instant later, there follows second
report, and the half-smoked cigarette is
swept from Peggy's lips, scattered in a
thousand tiny fragments, floating in the
powder filled air, whilst the clergyman,
laughing lightly, replaces in his pocket
the smoking pistol and takes thence an
other pipe which he proceeds leisurely to
fill.
Peggy's eyes are ablaze with surprise.
fright and u terrible anger. The miners
laugh loud and long. Evidently 1.-THE
parson' has raised hundred fold in
their rough esteem. The laughter and
jeers, half-madden Peggy; in sudden
fury, she again raises her weapon, but
ere she can pull the trigger Willie has
caught her arm and lowered it to the
ground.
For shame, Peg, would you murder
! him?''
Faith. a kiss all around for endanger-
| ing our lives, an shure let me turn come