Part 11 (1/2)
What would you think if you found this in a book?
[Ill.u.s.tration]
He says it means, ”Eating-house woman chasing--Jesse galloping--home dead finish.”
And some of it is worse!
I dare not accuse my dear man of being narrow-minded. I have no doubt that he is quite justified in his intense antipathy to n.i.g.g.e.rs, dagos, and c.h.i.n.ks--indeed, he will not allow my Chinese servant on the ranch.
But if I wished to uncork a choice vintage of stories, I alluded to his prejudice against the word ”grizzly” as applied to his pet bear.
”Now that's whar yo're dead wrong.” He threw a log of cedar upon our camp altar, making fresh incense to the wild G.o.ds. ”The landlord's a silver-tip, fat as b.u.t.ter. Down in the low country, whar feed is mean, and Britishers around, the b'ars is poor, and called grizzlies. I'd be shamed to have a grizzly on my ranch. Come to think, though, Kate, the landlord was a sure-enough grizzly three years back. He'd had misfortunes.”
”Tell me.” As he stirred the fire, gathering his thoughts, I watched the cedar sparks, a very torchlight procession of fairies flowing upward into the darkness overhead.
”Wall, you see, he and the landlady was always around same as you and me, but not together. No. Being respectable b'ars they'd feed at opposite ends of the pasture.”
”But don't the married couples live together?”
”None. They feels it ain't quite modest to make a show of their marriage. You see, Kate, after all, these b'ars is not like us but sort of foreigners. Mother gets kind of secluded when there's cubs, 'cause father's so careless and eats 'em.”
”How disgusting!”
”I dunno. Time I speak of, their three young lady b'ars was married somewheres up in the black pines, whar it takes say fifty square miles to feed one silver-tip--and no tourists to help out in times of famine.
That country was gettin' over-stocked, with a high protective tariff agin canon b'ars.
”And here's the landlady down on our ranch, chuck full of fiscal theories. 'B'ars is good,' says she, 'the more cubs the merrier,' says she, 'let's be fruitful and multiply.' And it's only a two b'ar ranch.
Thar ain't no England handy whar she can dump spare cubs.
”So the landlord gets provident and eats the cubs. Naturally thar's a sort of coolness arises over that, so that she's feeding north, while he's around south. Then the salmon season happens. There's only two fis.h.i.+ng rocks in our reach, the same being close together. The landlord, he fishes at the back-water rock. The landlady fishes at the rapids rock. They has to pretend they've not been introjuiced.
”There's been heavy rains, and up on the edge of the bench I seen a new crack opening across Apex Rock. I'd have put up a danger notice, only these people thinks it's for scratching their backs on. There's the crack getting wider, and the landlady fis.h.i.+ng right underneath, and me hollerin,' but she's too full of pride to care about my worries. So I thinks maybe if I just drop her a hint she'll begin to set up and take notice. I run home for my rifle, posts myself at big pine, takes a steady bead, and lets fly, knocking a salmon out of the lady's mouth.
Then I remembers that the shock of a gunshot is enough to loose the end of Apex Rock. It does, and while the scenery is being rearranged, the landlady sets up, wondering what's the trouble. When the dust clears, Apex Rock up here is reduced to a stump; down thar by the rapids the fis.h.i.+ng rock's extended with additions; the landlord's a widower, running for all he's worth; and the landlady is no more--not enough left of her to warrant funeral obsequies.”
”Why is the landlord called Eph?”
”Christian name. Most b'ars is Ephraim, but he's Ephrata which means 'be open.' I tried to get him to be open with me instead of stealing chickens. That's when the bad year come.”
”Were you in difficulties?”
”Eph was. Them canneries down to salt water, had fished the Fraser out, and the hatchery didn't get to its work until the fourth year, when the new sp.a.w.n come back to their home river. Yes, and the sarvis berries failed. I dunno why, but the silver-tips of this districk ain't partial to the same kinds of feed as they practises in Montana and Idaho. Down south they'll lunch on grubs, ants, or dog-tooth violets, but Eph ain't an original thinker. He runs to application, and s.h.i.+es at new ideas.
He'd vote conservative. So when the salmon and berries went back on him, he sort of petered out. He come to the cabin and said, plain as talk, he was nigh quitting business.”
”But, Jesse! A starving gr--I mean b'ar. Weren't you afraid even then?”
”Why for? My pardner attends to his business, and don't interfere with my hawss ranch. He owns the grubs, berries, salmon, wild honey and fixings. I owns the gra.s.s, stock, chickens, and garden sa.s.s. When we disagreed about them cabbages, I shot holes in his ears until he allowed they was mine. His ears is still sort of untidy. As to his eating Sarah, wall, I warned her not to tempt poor Eph too much.”
”Sarah?”
”Jones' foal. Being a fool runs in her family. Wall, Sarah died, and cabbages was gettin' seldom, and Eph was losing confidence in my aim, although I told him I'm tough as sea beef.”