The record-union., 1897-08-30
JAMES RALSTON'S SECRET.
IWritten for the 'Recor1-Union" by
Elwyn Irving Hofman.)


pScturesquely located on rising hill
overlooking Mad River. Seated on a
Tudelymade rocker, putting content
edly at his pipe, sat the owner, peace
fully surveying the scene. In front OF
him, and forming a long vista, was
weal-cultivated stretch of corn which
was just beginning to ripen; TO the
right a group of cows were knee-deep
In a pasture of clover and oats, While
TO the left horses rested in the shade
of the large barn, and still further in
the distance, an old sow with her lit
tie ones was wallowing in the shallow
water of the river.
At first glance, one would have said
that James Ralston was at least forty
years old. He wore a heavy beard, his
face was tanned, his clothes were shah
by and a mass of shaggy, curly hair
peeped out from under his broad
brimmed hat AS a matter of fact,
he was only twenty-eight and yet
vast amount of experience, hardship
and adventure had been crowded into
his life. Born in Boston, Mass, OF
poor parents, he had come overland to
California IN the first mad rush for the
new gold fields, leaving a sweetheart
behind. 1t was his intention to gain
"a fortune and then return to claim her.
Like many another unfortunate, ne
failed to make a strike" Again and
again he had hastened wildly to differ
ent parts of the State whence came re-
ports of rich pockets and washings.
Each time he was disappointed. He
managed, however, to lay aside mod
est sum, and after having wandered
through Trinity County with indiffer-
ent success, found himself in Arcata,
Humboldt County.
Here he met one of the avengers of
John Anderson, who was murdered by
the Indians in 1852. He was anxious
to dispose of a redwood claim near the
mouth Of Mad River, as twice he had
been nearly killed by rowing bands of
hostile Indians, who had singled him
out as a leader in the humiliation of
their strongest tribe, at Bridge Gulch,
in Hay Fork Valley. Ralston was tired
of his wandering life and his dreams of
suddenly acquired riches had been dis
spated. He was quite satisfied to get
rich slowly. He bought the claim at
small price, cleared a tract of land,
built a house, barn and cabins for his
help cultivated the land, and after six
years of toll and privation, at last
found himself on the road to fortune.
Everything he touched seemed to pros
per.
AS he sat this Sunday afternoon his
thoughts were sad. 1t seemed as if
his life was incomplete He was strug-
Cling constantly. gaining wealth, but
there was something missing. And
then he thought of his mother and
brothers and Dora in their distant
homes. But what right had he to think
of her? After his arrival in California
his letters to her had been frequent
and full of hope, but as the months
rolled by, and he was no nearer his
goal, he lost heart and finally stopped
writing. For years he had heard moth
ing from home. Perhaps she might
have married another by this tf1nei He
didn't blame her, but he consoled him
self with the assurance that some day
he would return. Probably then, he
would marry Dora. Who knows?
In his exile James RaIston was sur
rounded only by Indians. He was on
friendly terms with his neighbors, but
was always considered unsociable by
them. He never mixed with them more
was known about him.
AS was customary the Indians spent
their Sundays either in Arcata or re-
paired to the mouth of the river which
forms a sandy delta where it empties
into the sea- The men proceeded to the
sweat-house while the sQuaws re-
clined under the shady trees. Here the
men discarded their shirts and overalls
of oIa fIa.
entrance, began to perspire freely. Amid
wild shouting they would later emerge
and rush fearlessly into the heavy
breakers of the mighty Pacific Ocean,
and battle and buffet in the waves. until
greatly exhausted, they threw them
selves on the sandy beach.
Knowing that there was no one left
about the premises it was a great sur
prise TO Ralston when he looked to-
ward the river and observed one of the
squaws coming toward him. They
usually did not return until sundown,
and it was only about 4. She trudged
along slowly and, while his curiosity
was aroused, he went on rocking to and
fro and puffed harder at his pipe pre-
tending 10 be unconscious of her ap
proach-
drew UP before the low steps, whats
the matter? What brings you back so
early?"
She stared at him vacant1y and then
calculated: "Oh. Joe Crow--he kill
my Pete
'what?" queried Ralston; "how'd it
happen?"
She flung herself on the steps and be-
gan to cry and between her sobs man
aged to give him a faint intimation of
what had taken place.
'Au men play cards. My man lose
money, pistol-everything Then Joe
Crow say he win play all the money for
me. Pete no want to, but I say Pete,
you go head. You can beat him Win
all his money!"
And was Pete fool enough to do it?''
interrupted Ralston.
'Yep-and he lost / say won't go
with him They fight, and Joe shoot
my man with the pistol he Won" Then
gesticulating wildly she pleaded: Il
don't want to go to Joe. Him hip bad
Indian"
Don't worry, Mollie. If YOU don't
like him, you needn't go. But why
under the sun did you tell Pete to bet?''
Her eyes lighted up and she answered
quickly: "Oh, there was a big pile of
money! I thought Pete win-but won I
go to him" Then changing her voice in
TO a childish whine, she said: Say, he
kill me. 1 know it. Me stay with you
-huh?"
Just then a number of other Indians
came filing UP the bank. Mollie re-
treated behind his rocker RalSton was