Part 3

The material comforts of the Tuolumne House aside, there was never a cheerier, heartier, pluckier boniface than George Keyse. He was to the manner born, and could take a gun or a knife away from an excited boarder quite as gracefully and quickly as he could, if necessary, turn his own flapjacks.

Mr. Keyse had an invaluable assistant in one Dave Smuggins, who officiated alternately as barkeeper, porter and hotel clerk. Smuggins was a well-bred man, and, it was said, was originally educated for the ministry. The only evidence at hand, however, was certain oratorical propensities that overcame him and made him forget his real position when he awakened the boarders early o’ mornings. I can hear him now, as he stood at the top of the stairway, yelling in stentorian tones--“Arouse all ye sleepers, an’ listen to the purty little airly birds singin’ praises tew the Lord! D--n yer bloody eyes! Git up!” saying which the modern psalmist discreetly went below and took his position behind the bar, ready to dispense “eye-openers” to the early caller.

Jacksonville proved to be not only a pleasant place of residence but an excellent field for my professional work. The climate was almost germ-proof, and it was a real pleasure to practice the semi-military surgery characteristic of my field of labor. Primary union was my speciality in those days, and I used to get results the memory of which sometimes makes me blush for those I occasionally get with our modern aseptic and antiseptic methods. No matter how much my patients might shoot or carve each other, any fellow who had life enough left in him to crawl or be carried off the field of battle, usually got well.

Beyond accompanying an occasional prospecting party, largely for recreation but partly in my professional capacity, I did but little in the way of mining. My practice gave me plenty to do, and was lucrative enough as practices go, so I soon settled down to as routine a life as my curious and lively surroundings would permit.

I was sitting in that portion of the Tuolumne House yclept by courtesy “the office,” quite late one evening, listening to the quaint talk of my miner friends and marvelling on the quantity of fluid the human body could lose by way of expectoration and still live, when I was recalled to a realization of the fact that I was a practitioner of medicine, by a voice at the hotel door.

“Say, Doc, kin I see y’u a minute?”

Looking up I saw standing in the doorway one of the boys, who was familiarly known as Toppy, his States’ name being Ike Dexter. Toppy motioned for me to come out on the porch, and impressed by his gravity of manner and earnestness of gesticulation, I hastened to comply.

“What is it, Toppy?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, “thar’s one uv my friends whut’s bin an’ got hisself hurt, an’ I want y’u ter come an’ fix him up. He’s a very parti’cler friend, an’ I’d like ter hev yer do yer best on him. Ye needn’t say nuthin’ ter the boys about it, jes’ now, Doc.”

“Very well, Toppy, I’ll go with you, but what kind of an accident has befallen your friend?” I asked.

“Oh, I dunno ez ye could jes’ call it a accident, Doc. It’s jest a little shootin’ scrape, that’s all, an’ I reckon ye’d better take some ’stracters erlong.”

In accordance with the honest miner’s suggestion I did take some bullet extractors with me.

“Ye see, Doc,” said Toppy, by way of preparatory explanation of the case I was about to see, “this yere friend of mine hez bin down in ’Frisco fer a spell, an’ might hev staid thar a good while longer, only some feller picked a row with him. Thar wuz a duel, an’ duels ain’t so pop’lar down ’Frisco way ez they useter wuz, ’specially when somebody gits hurt. A real bad accident happened ter th’ uther feller, an’ he passed in his checks. Jim--that’s my friend--got a ball in his thigh, whut stuck thar, and ez he didn’t hev much time to hunt fer a doctor, he jest come up hyar, whar its kinder quiet like, an’ we thort we’d hev y’u sorter look arter the thing. Ye see, Jim won’t keer to git ’round much fer a few weeks--not ’till that little accident gits blowed over”--and Toppy’s eyes gleamed humorously.

My friend led me down to the river bank, and pushing aside a clump of willows revealed a small, rudely constructed row-boat.

“Ah!” I said, as I took my seat in the somewhat insecure-looking and cranky little craft, “It is evident that you have taken your friend to your own cabin.”

Toppy, as I well knew, had the only abode on the opposite bank of the river, where, high up on the hillside, in full though somewhat distant view of the little town, he had built a small but neat cabin, which nestled in the bosom of the hill, looking not unlike a child’s playhouse as seen from the town proper.

“Yep,” replied the miner, “thar’s whar he is. It aint best ter depen’ too much on pop’larity, ye know, Doc, an’ Jim’ll be a little safer over thar than in town. Nobody goes ter my place--less’n I invite ’em,” and Toppy grinned sardonically.

I recalled the fate of a poor devil who did go to his cabin without an invitation--from Toppy--in the early days of his housekeeping on the hillside, when a more or less charming little Mexican half-breed damsel was said to have presided over Toppy’s domestic affairs.

Being averse to the discussion of other people’s family matters, I had never conversed with my miner friend on that delicate subject. To tell the truth, there seemed to be very little encouragement for gossip in Jacksonville--town-talk was too direct a cut to the little collection of white head-boards that decorated a small plateau just outside the town. All my information on such subjects, was therefore derived from more subtle and less dangerous airy rumor.

The river was quite low, and a few vigorous pulls from Toppy’s stalwart arms brought us to the opposite shore, from which I could see, far up the hillside, the gleaming white walls of the miner’s rude little home, where lay my prospective patient.

Toppy was notoriously careless in his personal grooming, but the little half-breed had evidently inspired a coat of whitewash for the cabin, that endured longer than the sentiment with which its owner had inspired that swarthy little traitress. Possibly that gleaming white cabin was her monument--who knows? The river ran dangerously and temptingly near, considering how short a time it takes to fall a few hundred feet down a steep and rocky hillside, and rumor whispered that Pepita--well, no one knew where she was, and women were not so plentiful in the Tuolumne valley that hiding was easy.

But the Tuolumne kept its secret well, if secret there was. Its quick-sands told no tales. They could hide the precious gold of the river bottom; why not a mouldering skeleton?

On entering Toppy’s cabin, completely winded after my climb up the hill that constituted his front yard, I found my new patient lying on a cot in the middle of the room. He turned inquiringly toward the door as his host and I entered, and what was my amazement to see reflected in the dim light of the candle with which the cabin was illuminated, the features of the handsome unknown of the San Francisco gambling-house, whose adventure with the unfortunate young southerner I have already related. The recognition was evidently mutual, but I fancied that my patient looked at me with an expression slightly suggestive of annoyance.

Toppy’s introduction was laconic, and as characteristic as was he himself:

“Doc, this is Jim--Jim, this yer’s Doc Weymouth, an’ he’s all right, y’u bet, ’specially on bullets an’ sich things.”

I was used to California customs, hence the cognomen, “Jim” was sufficiently comprehensive and perfectly satisfactory to me, and after the brief introduction that my miner friend gave me, I proceeded to investigate the case.

As Toppy had already informed me of the circumstances that led to the reception of my patient’s wound, I made no inquiry in that direction. I found also, that Toppy was correct as to the location of the injury--as he had said, the ball had entered his friend’s thigh.

The wound had been inflicted several days before I saw my patient, and would probably have healed promptly enough if it had not been for the weary ride he had taken immediately after the shooting---he had come to Jacksonville on horse back. The result of the necessary movement in the saddle, together with the hot sun and dust of the roads, had been to produce considerable inflammation of the injured part. I presume that nowadays the surgeon would seek for no other cause than germ infection for such a condition as followed the wound which my patient had received--but at that time things were different; the various sources of irritation to which he had been exposed were a reasonable explanation of the state in which I found his wound.

The wound was merely muscular, neither important vessels nor bone having been injured, and, much to my gratification, I almost immediately succeeded in finding and extracting the ball.

Jim, as I will now call him, stood my manipulations and the cutting necessary for the extraction of the bullet without the slightest indication that such operations were not an every-day experience with him. This was not without its effect upon Toppy, who looked upon his heroic friend with all the pride and tenderness imaginable.

When I was first introduced to the wounded man, he had merely nodded his head in greeting. He did not speak thereafter, until I had finished dressing the wound, Toppy meanwhile answering all necessary questions. It seemed to me, also, that my patient rather avoided scrutiny of his countenance. He either averted his face or shaded it with his hand, under the pretense that the flickering light of the candle which Toppy held for me affected his eyes, during the entire time of my surgical attention.

I gave this circumstance hardly a second thought; nothing seemed more natural than that my patient should desire to conceal any little involuntary expression of suffering that might have disturbed his features during my exceedingly painful manipulations. I was struck, however, by his conduct as I was preparing to leave.

“Doctor,” he said, “I am very sorry that my old friend, Toppy, insisted upon calling you to-night. I could have stood the racket till morning, and your rest was much more important than my worthless existence. I appreciate your kindness, sir, and wish that I could reciprocate in some more fitting manner than by mere financial compensation. However that’s the best I can do now;” saying which, my patient reached beneath the rude mattress upon which he was lying, drew out a bag of gold, and without further ceremony handed it to me.

“I wish it might have been more, doctor,” said Jim, “but I came away from ’Frisco in a deuce of a hurry, and without heeling myself properly. However, I have divided evenly with you, and I believe such a rate of compensation is usually considered fair by professional men,” and he smiled somewhat mischievously, his black eyes twinkling with humor.

My heart warmed toward my patient, I knew not why. It certainly was not because of his liberality, for that was common enough in that rude mining town, where the people were so crude as to believe that a physician’s services should be liberally compensated. I kept no books in those days, my patients were so wild and uncivilized that I did not find it necessary.

“I will see you again to-morrow, sir,” I said, as I nodded in recognition of the liberal fee that my interesting patient had given me, and extended my hand to bid him good-morning--for it was then long past midnight.

“Oh, no,” replied Jim, hastily, “it will probably not be necessary, and my friend, Toppy, here, who is an exceptionally good nurse, can give me all the attention I require. Be assured, sir, that you shall be called in again if anything unfavorable arises. There’s something healing in the California air. The bullet is out and as I can rest quietly in Toppy’s cabin, there will be no further trouble, I am sure. I have been there before, Doctor,” and he smiled grimly.

“Very well then,” I said, “if you insist on assuming the responsibility of your own case, I suppose I have no right to protest. Remember your promise, however, and call me at the slightest intimation of trouble. I will learn how you are, from time to time, through Toppy, and if I should at any time hear an unfavorable report, I might be discourteous enough to call without an invitation.”

“I think we understand each other, Doctor,” replied Jim, “and now I believe I’ll take a nap; sleep has been a scarce commodity with me for a few days past.”

As I left the cabin I could not rid myself of the impression that there was something strangely familiar about my patient. My first acquaintance with him was certainly the night of the affair at the Palace in San Francisco, and yet, he impressed me differently from what might have been expected in meeting an entire stranger. I had an ill defined impression that Jim had been a factor in my life before. But when, and where? My mind was a blank upon this point, nor was I likely to become enlightened, considering the lack of encouragement with which inquiries into the personal histories of the early California citizen were usually met.

When we arrived at the bank of the river on our return to the town, Toppy safely secured his little boat to the overhanging willows and insisted on escorting me back to the hotel. Although this was unnecessary, I was very glad to have the kind-hearted fellow’s company, the more especially as I desired to learn something of my new and interesting patient.

Arriving at the Tuolumne House, I said--“Toppy, you have furnished me the opportunity of losing my sleep, and I propose to get even. It is almost daylight, and we may as well make a full night of it. I want to know more of your friend Jim. I don’t know why, but he greatly interests me. Not but that I am always interested in my patients, but my feeling toward your friend is rather a peculiar one. Suppose we find a quiet seat somewhere and talk a little about him?”

Toppy acquiesced, and having declined the cigar I proffered him, in favor of a stubby black pipe that he produced and lighted, we seated ourselves upon an old stump, a little way from the hotel.

“Well, Doc, I don’t s’pose it’s ness’ary fer me ter tell y’u that Jim’s my best friend. He’s the best I ever hed, since--well, since I come from the States. I’ve got good reasons fer likin’ him, ez you’ll obsarve.

“I fust met Jim at Angel’s Camp, about three years ago. I was prospectin’ round in Calaveras county, an’ used ter make my headquarters at Angel’s.

“I used ter booze a lot in them days--mor’n I do now, Doc. I guess my hide was stretchier then, an’ used ter hold more. I was allus a leetle bit excitable when I was drunk, an’ everlastin’ly gittin’ inter trouble. That’s how I fell in with Jim.

“I happened to be raisin’ partickler h--l round town one night, an’ drifted inter Ned Griffiths place. I’d been thar lots uv times, an’ ez everybody in Angel’s knowed me, an’ I was purty poplar, I’d never hed no trouble, till this night I’m tellin’ y’u about.

“It jest happened that a crowd uv fellers hed come down from Murphy’s camp ter have a little fun on ther own account, an’ it was jes’ my d--d luck ter run agin the gang ’bout the time they was beginnin’ ter feel ther oats purty lively, an’ of course, I hed ter git into a muss with ’em.

“Ez I didn’t hev no friends in the place at the time, an’ folks don’t mix in other fellers’ rows much in the diggin’s, I was buckin’ agin a dead tough game. Ez luck’d hev it, I happened ter git mixed up with the toughest cuss in the crowd--Three Fingered Jack, a feller what’ll ornyment a tree yit, y’u see if he don’t![B]

[B] And ornament the gallows tree he did, several years later. Author.

“I got my gun out, all right, but the d--d thing was outer fix, an’ if it hadn’t been, I was too bilin’ drunk ter hit a cow at three paces.

“Well, Jack jest played with me with his knife, kinder carvin’ me up on the installment plan, ye know. He’d socked a few purty good sized holes inter my ole carkiss, an’ was gittin’ ready ter finish up the job in good shape, when Jim come in an’ took a han’ in the game with his own little bowie.

“I was too full er booze ter ’preciate the show, but they do say ez how Jim did a purty neat job. Jack got well arter a while, but he didn’t act very sosherble with the folks at Angel’s enny more.”

“When I found out how Jim had saved my life, y’u kin bet I didn’t lose no time a looking him up an’ squarin’ myself. I’d heard er Jim afore, an’ I knowed he was a gambler by perfession, but he played a game that night, that made a big winnin’ fer yores trooly, an’ I’ve jest bin layin’ fer a chance ter do him a good turn ever since. He may be a gambler, but he plays a squar’ game--an’ poker at that--that’s why they call him ‘Poker Jim.’ He’s a gentleman born an’ bred, that’s dead sartin, an’ he’s got more eddication an’ squar’ness than a hull lot er people whut never gambled in ther lives. When Poker Jim makes a promise, it’s kept. If he shud borrer a thousan’ dollars uv me--an’ he could hev it too, if I hed it, you bet! an’ he shud say, ‘Lookee hyar, Toppy, I’ll give this back to yer nex’ Monday et five o’clock,’ an’ he wasn’t on han’ with the stuff, w’y, then I’d know that suthin had happened to him. Poker Jim’ll keep enny promise that he makes, if he’s alive when the time fer squar’in things comes.”

“You have excellent reasons for loyalty to your friend Jim,” I said. “He certainly deserves your friendship and respect, no matter what his occupation may be. I have met him before, and under circumstances that proved him to be a truly noble character. But tell me, Toppy, how does it happen that you and Jim drifted apart?”

“Well, ye see, Doc, ’twas this way. The folks up at Angel’s got so virtoous arter a while, that gamblers was too rich fer ’em, an’ they ordered all the gams ter vamoose. Jim got ketched in the round-up ’long with the rest, an’ hed ter git out ’twixt the light uv two days. He couldn’t lick ’em all, less’n they’d come on one at a time, so he jest played git up an’ git with t’other sports. He went to Frisco ter play higher stakes than Angel’s Camp could put up, an’ I came down hyar. Ye see, I wasn’t none too pop’lar, on account er standin’ up fer Jim, an’ ez I don’t gin’rally fergit ter say my say, I got inter a little argyment with one uv the prominent citizens uv Angel’s one day. I was sober on that erkasyun an’, well--I come down ter Jacksonville fer my health. I writ ter Jim ez soon ez I got hyar, an’ told him whar I was, an’ ez soon ez he got inter trouble he knowed whar ter find a fren’ whut’ll stan’ by him ez long ez ther’s a shot in ther locker--savvy?”

“Well,” I said, “Poker Jim will soon be able to take care of himself again, and I hope he will not experience any annoyance from his recent duelling experience. He certainly is possessed of great courage, and I should dislike to see his bravery get him into further trouble.”

“Y’u kin jest bet Jim’s got sand! Y’u air all right on that pint, Doc. Thar ain’t no braver man livin’. D’ye know whut I seed him do one night up ter Sonora? Well, thar was eight of us fellers went up thar ter a fandango, an’ Jim went along ter kinder give the thing a little tone, ye know.

“‘Mericans aint none too pop’lar with the greasers nohow, ’cept with their women folks, an’ them fellers up thar was jes’ bilin’, when they seed us come inter ther ole fandango. When we got ter cuttin’ ’em out with their black eyed senoritas, they was ugly enough ter slit our throats, en it was jest our blind luck that fin’ly kep’ ’em from doin’ it.

“Jim don’t often drink enny licker, but he was a feelin’ purty good that night, an’ jest spilin’ fer a row with the d--d greasers. Things was goin’ too slow fer him, so he takes a piece er chalk, goes out inter the middle of the hall an’ draws a great big ’Merican eagle on the floor. Then he pulled his gun an’ called for some d--d greaser ter step on the bird! We seed he was in for it, an’ gathered ’round him ready fer the music ter begin. Each side was waitin’ fer t’other ter open the ball, when the feller what run the hall blowed the lights out. We grabbed Jim an’ hustled him out, an’ made him take leg bail ’long with the rest uv us. He wanted ter go back, but we wouldn’t hev it--the game was jest a little too stiff fer us, y’u bet! Oh, yes, Poker Jim is dead game, all right.

“An’ now, Doc, I’m goin’ ter tell ye suthin’ on the dead quiet. Jim’s got a wife an’ child down in Frisco. He married a little Spanish gal about two years ago, an’ she was a bute, I kin tell ye! They’ve got a little baby a year ole, an’ Jim’s the proudes’ feller y’u ever seed. Ez soon ez that Frisco scrape is through with, he’s goin’ ter send fer his family, an’ I’m goin’ ter quit my cabin an’ let Jim an’ his folks hev it. My place is kinder outer the way an’ private like, an’ that’ll jest suit Jim.”

“Well, Toppy,” I said, “I am more interested in your friend than ever, and I hope that you may soon consummate your plans to domicile him and his family among us.”

Day was now breaking, and the voice of the devout Dave Smuggins could be heard ringing through the halls and vibrating the very roof of the hotel, as he hoarsely shouted his pious appeal to the slumbering boarders.

Toppy accompanied me to the hotel bar and joined me in an “eye-opener,” after which he bade me good morning and returned home, while I prepared to do full justice to Keyse’s immortal flapjacks.

* * * * *

As Toppy had planned, Poker Jim subsequently became a citizen of Jacksonville. Advices from San Francisco showed the excitement caused by the duel to be practically over after a few weeks, and, his wound having healed, my patient quietly installed himself among the sporting element of our population, resuming the occupation that had earned for him the sobriquet of “Poker Jim.”

The inhabitants of Jacksonville had often heard of the cool, quiet gentleman who had called down and cut up Three Fingered Jack. Many of his fellow townsmen knew him personally. No questions were asked therefore, when Poker Jim quietly and unostentatiously identified himself with our thriving town. Nor did the citizens become more inquisitive, when, a short time afterward, Jim’s family arrived and took possession of Toppy’s cabin. A few curious looks were bestowed on Toppy, when it was learned that he had given up his cabin to the gambler and his family and had taken quarters at the Tuolumne House. Curiosity being at a discount in our little burg, however, and Toppy being inclined to keep his own counsel, there was no disposition to press matters to the point of disturbing his serenity.

The same conservative tendency with which the towns-people regarded the arrangement between Toppy and his friend Jim, also protected the family of the latter from intrusion. Jim never alluded to his domestic affairs, and, as Toppy did all of the necessary chores and errands for his friend’s family, the personnel of the latter was entirely a matter of speculation.

Despite the social prejudice which even a mining town entertains against the professional gambler, however leniently his occupation may be regarded, Poker Jim became very popular. His squareness and undisputed courage, associated with his quiet, unobtrusive demeanor and the never-failing accuracy with which he handled his revolver, gained for him an esteem which, if it was not respect, had about the same market value as that sentimental commodity.