The Van Buren press., 1897-09-11

off his nut instead of the hard team
sterin', but | can't say. But, anyway
Potts went sort O. daft, and finally left
the road and TUX up with the Injuns
Before he went crazy, and before he
left teamin. Potts was the genialest
kind of feller. Everybody liked him
He wasn't educated much, but he was
good-natured and jolly and always had
a good word for folks, an he liked chill
dren.
Il remember of his stoppin' at my o.
mans place once, when a neighbors S
little girl was there. This girl-Min. |
believe her name was-had a new doll.
an of course she wanted to show it 10
Potts first thing. So she trotted it out
an put it in his lap and then turned its
dress up, as doll mammas always do,
and made him look at the lace on its
underelothes. An Potts laugheA-why,
| can see him now, settin' there on the
front porch, all dirty and smeared with
wagon grease, holdin' Minis new doll III
his big hands and tellin' her that its
/ the purtiest dolly ever he seed. But
that was a long time ago. Potts is diff
/ ferent now"
/ Clark. of the Oregon house, pausedin
his talk and putfed away in silence for j
/ few minutes.
/ The man at the plum box, having sat
+ isfied himself, wiped his mouth on his
sleeve (''When in Rome, etc, y and now
+ sat gazing up the river. 1t was not an
uninteresting view. From a narrow
gorge in the high brown hills, the river
suddenly appeared, a stream of dull
yellow that threw itself tempestuously
from the big, water-worn rocks, and
then with a smooth, graceful curve,
flowed downward toward the point on
which the blacksmith's shop stood
Here, as il turned to take another diree-
ton, it fretted, and fumed, and growled.
and muttered once more, until finding
straight course again, it journeyed
peacefully TO Climmin's point, where it
made another angry turn.
As one looks up the river one notices
red "cut" that leads, with the natural
wind of the hills from the river bed to
POINTS far up on the mountains, on
either side of the river. That is the road
that goes from Browns valley to French
Corral, and where it crosses the Yubd
is known as Rice's crossing. 1t is sim
ply a ford, and in certain seasons an
impossible one.
Far up the river, however, where the
gorge is narrowest, there is steel wire
cable, with rude car swung under it,
and on this, people on foot who wish to
cross the river (mostly Indians and
Chinese miners, with now and then a
wandering artist, or scribe, ''prowling
Cor the picturesque go over. Just be-
low the cable there is a camp of the
Chinese, containing a store, a garden
and half dozen huts. In September
the river is low, and the Chinese sluice
among the powders in its very bed,
turning it aside with wing dams, for
this purpose.
As the man at the plum box looked up
the canyon he could see the Chinese
miners at work just below the cable.
The sun was bright, and now and then
their wet shoyels, as they turned them
in air, flashed like disks of silver. The
yellow Yuba roared and thundered in
its uneven course where they were
working, and the canyon was full of the
vibrant sound of its ceaseless conflict
with the huge powders that lined its
way; and yet, now and then, as the wind
blew down the river, the sharp, nasal
tones of the Chinamen's voices could be
distinctly heard. The man at the plum
box got to marveling at the clearness
with which things could be distin-
guished over the dull, never failing
thunder of the great river that swept
along below him, and all but forgot
Potts entirely. Even Clark seemed to
lind something foreign to think of, and
smoked and gazed in silence.
A mountain quail, across the canyon,
whistled melodiously, and its soft, but
impellant notes, seemed almost to echo
Just below the shop, about quarter of
a mile down the river, two sons of the
Flowery Kingdom were running a
rocker, and he could distinguish the
harsh kaash! kaash! kaash. kaash! OF
the gravel as it grated back and forth
on the iron riddle" and could hear the
stones rattle as they were thrown out.
He even fancied he could hear the swee-ee
Of the water as it was poured upon the
gravel from the old oyster can that
served the Chinaman as a dipper-but
of course he was mistaken in that.
AS he was listening TO these noises, Il
sound came to his ears from farther
down the river. 1t was long cry,
qusyering, fainting call that beat back
and forth from point to point, and
finally passed him by, seemingly like a
broken-winged spirit flying painfully
up the great canyon to die away in the
dull thunder of the sweeping waters.
Clark moved as about to rise, and
took his pipe from his mouth. Both
listened.
The river thundered, the quail across
the canyon whistled. the Cinnamon
clinked their picks and talked nasally
far up the gorge. But the cry they had
heard was not repeated, and Clark final
ly stretched himself out again and re-
turned to his leisured smoking and
talking. His only comment was: 81
guess them Injuns must be drunk"
lie blew the smoke from his thin lips
and sprayed it out through his sandy,
dropping mustaehe. Then he contin-
ued:
"Mabbe Scar-Faced Dick has been to
town, or old Potts has seen a fresh batch
Of his airships. BY the way, l was tell
in you about Potts, wasn't 1?