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the silverado squatters-第12章

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silent; rusty machinery。  It cost six thousand dollars; 

twelve hundred English sovereigns; and now; here it stands 

deserted; like the temple of a forgotten religion; the busy 

millers toiling somewhere else。  All the time we were there; 

mill and mill town showed no sign of life; that part of the 

mountain…side; which is very open and green; was tenanted by 

no living creature but ourselves and the insects; and nothing 

stirred but the cloud manufactory upon the mountain summit。  

It was odd to compare this with the former days; when the 

engine was in fall blast; the mill palpitating to its 

strokes; and the carts came rattling down from Silverado; 

charged with ore。



By two we had been landed at the mine; the buggy was gone 

again; and we were left to our own reflections and the basket 

of cold provender; until Hanson should arrive。  Hot as it was 

by the sun; there was something chill in such a home…coming; 

in that world of wreck and rust; splinter and rolling gravel; 

where for so many years no fire had smoked。



Silverado platform filled the whole width of the canyon。  

Above; as I have said; this was a wild; red; stony gully in 

the mountains; but below it was a wooded dingle。  And through 

this; I was told; there had gone a path between the mine and 

the Toll House … our natural north…west passage to 

civilization。  I found and followed it; clearing my way as I 

went through fallen branches and dead trees。  It went 

straight down that steep canyon; till it brought you out 

abruptly over the roofs of the hotel。  There was nowhere any 

break in the descent。  It almost seemed as if; were you to 

drop a stone down the old iron chute at our platform; it 

would never rest until it hopped upon the Toll House 

shingles。  Signs were not wanting of the ancient greatness of 

Silverado。  The footpath was well marked; and had been well 

trodden in the old clays by thirsty miners。  And far down; 

buried in foliage; deep out of sight of Silverado; I came on 

a last outpost of the mine … a mound of gravel; some wreck of 

wooden aqueduct; and the mouth of a tunnel; like a treasure 

grotto in a fairy story。  A stream of water; fed by the 

invisible leakage from our shaft; and dyed red with cinnabar 

or iron; ran trippingly forth out of the bowels of the cave; 

and; looking far under the arch; I could see something like 

an iron lantern fastened on the rocky wall。  It was a 

promising spot for the imagination。  No boy could have left 

it unexplored。



The stream thenceforward stole along the bottom of the 

dingle; and made; for that dry land; a pleasant warbling in 

the leaves。  Once; I suppose; it ran splashing down the whole 

length of the canyon; but now its head waters had been tapped 

by the shaft at Silverado; and for a great part of its course 

it wandered sunless among the joints of the mountain。  No 

wonder that it should better its pace when it sees; far 

before it; daylight whitening in the arch; or that it should 

come trotting forth into the sunlight with a song。



The two stages had gone by when I got down; and the Toll 

House stood; dozing in sun and dust and silence; like a place 

enchanted。  My mission was after hay for bedding; and that I 

was readily promised。  But when I mentioned that we were 

waiting for Rufe; the people shook their heads。  Rufe was not 

a regular man any way; it seemed; and if he got playing poker 

… Well; poker was too many for Rufe。  I had not yet heard 

them bracketted together; but it seemed a natural 

conjunction; and commended itself swiftly to my fears; and as 

soon as I returned to Silverado and had told my story; we 

practically gave Hanson up; and set ourselves to do what we 

could find do…able in our desert…island state。



The lower room had been the assayer's office。  The floor was 

thick with DEBRIS … part human; from the former occupants; 

part natural; sifted in by mountain winds。  In a sea of red 

dust there swam or floated sticks; boards; hay; straw; 

stones; and paper; ancient newspapers; above all … for the 

newspaper; especially when torn; soon becomes an antiquity … 

and bills of the Silverado boarding…house; some dated 

Silverado; some Calistoga Mine。  Here is one; verbatim; and 

if any one can calculate the scale of charges; he has my 

envious admiration。





Calistoga Mine; May 3rd; 1875。

John Stanley

To S。 Chapman; Cr。

To board from April 1st; to April 30  25 75

  〃    〃     〃  May lst; to 3rd  。。。    2 00

                                       27 75





Where is John Stanley mining now?  Where is S。 Chapman; 

within whose hospitable walls we were to lodge?  The date was 

but five years old; but in that time the world had changed 

for Silverado; like Palmyra in the desert; it had outlived 

its people and its purpose; we camped; like Layard; amid 

ruins; and these names spoke to us of prehistoric time。  A 

boot…jack; a pair of boots; a dog…hutch; and these bills of 

Mr。 Chapman's were the only speaking relics that we 

disinterred from all that vast Silverado rubbish…heap; but 

what would I not have given to unearth a letter; a pocket…

book; a diary; only a ledger; or a roll of names; to take me 

back; in a more personal manner; to the past?  It pleases me; 

besides; to fancy that Stanley or Chapman; or one of their 

companions; may light upon this chronicle; and be struck by 

the name; and read some news of their anterior home; coming; 

as it were; out of a subsequent epoch of history in that 

quarter of the world。



As we were tumbling the mingled rubbish on the floor; kicking 

it with our feet; and groping for these written evidences of 

the past; Sam; with a somewhat whitened face; produced a 

paper bag。  〃What's this?〃 said he。  It contained a 

granulated powder; something the colour of Gregory's Mixture; 

but rosier; and as there were several of the bags; and each 

more or less broken; the powder was spread widely on the 

floor。  Had any of us ever seen giant powder?  No; nobody 

had; and instantly there grew up in my mind a shadowy belief; 

verging with every moment nearer to certitude; that I had 

somewhere heard somebody describe it as just such a powder as 

the one around us。  I have learnt since that it is a 

substance not unlike tallow; and is made up in rolls for all 

the world like tallow candles。



Fanny; to add to our happiness; told us a story of a 

gentleman who had camped one night; like ourselves; by a 

deserted mine。  He was a handy; thrifty fellow; and looked 

right and left for plunder; but all he could lay his hands on 

was a can of oil。  After dark he had to see to the horses 

with a lantern; and not to miss an opportunity; filled up his 

lamp from the oil can。  Thus equipped; he set forth into the 

forest。  A little while after; his friends heard a loud 

explosion; the mountain echoes bellowed; and then all was 

still。  On examination; the can proved to contain oil; with 
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