按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
————未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!
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