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Flip： A California Romance
by Bret Harte
CHAPTER I
Just where the track of the Los Gatos road streams on and upward
like the sinuous trail of a fiery rocket until it is extinguished
in the blue shadows of the Coast Range； there is an embayed terrace
near the summit； hedged by dwarf firs。 At every bend of the heat…
laden road the eye rested upon it wistfully； all along the flank of
the mountain； which seemed to pant and quiver in the oven…like air；
through rising dust； the slow creaking of dragging wheels； the
monotonous cry of tired springs； and the muffled beat of plunging
hoofs； it held out a promise of sheltered coolness and green
silences beyond。 Sunburned and anxious faces yearned toward it
from the dizzy； swaying tops of stagecoaches； from lagging teams
far below； from the blinding white canvas covers of 〃mountain
schooners；〃 and from scorching saddles that seemed to weigh down
the scrambling； sweating animals beneath。 But it would seem that
the hope was vain； the promise illusive。 When the terrace was
reached it appeared not only to have caught and gathered all the
heat of the valley below； but to have evolved a fire of its own
from some hidden crater…like source unknown。 Nevertheless； instead
of prostrating and enervating man and beast； it was said to have
induced the wildest exaltation。 The heated air was filled and
stifling with resinous exhalations。 The delirious spices of balm；
bay； spruce； juniper； yerba buena； wild syringa； and strange
aromatic herbs as yet unclassified； distilled and evaporated in
that mighty heat； and seemed to fire with a midsummer madness all
who breathed their fumes。 They stung； smarted； stimulated；
intoxicated。 It was said that the most jaded and foot…sore horses
became furious and ungovernable under their influence； wearied
teamsters and muleteers； who had exhausted their profanity in the
ascent； drank fresh draughts of inspiration in this fiery air；
extended their vocabulary； and created new and startling forms of
objurgation。 It is recorded that one bibulous stage…driver
exhausted description and condensed its virtues in a single phrase：
〃Gin and ginger。〃 This felicitous epithet； flung out in a generous
comparison with his favorite drink； 〃rum and gum；〃 clung to it ever
after。
Such was the current comment on this vale of spices。 Like most
human criticism it was hasty and superficial。 No one yet had been
known to have penetrated deeply its mysterious recesses。 It was
still far below the summit and its wayside inn。 It had escaped the
intruding foot of hunter and prospector； and the inquisitive patrol
of the county surveyor had only skirted its boundary。 It remained
for Mr。 Lance Harriott to complete its exploration。 His reasons
for so doing were simple。 He had made the journey thither
underneath the stage…coach； and clinging to its axle。 He had
chosen this hazardous mode of conveyance at night； as the coach
crept by his place of concealment in the wayside brush； to elude
the sheriff of Monterey County and his posse； who were after him。
He had not made himself known to his fellow…passengers as they
already knew him as a gambler； an outlaw； and a desperado； he
deemed it unwise to present himself in a newer reputation of a man
who had just slain a brother gambler in a quarrel； and for whom a
reward was offered。 He slipped from the axle as the stage…coach
swirled past the brushing branches of fir； and for an instant lay
unnoticed； a scarcely distinguishable mound of dust in the broken
furrows of the road。 Then； more like a beast than a man； he crept
on his hands and knees into the steaming underbrush。 Here he lay
still until the clatter of harness and the sound of voices faded in
the distance。 Had he been followed； it would have been difficult
to detect in that inert mass of rags any semblance to a known form
or figure。 A hideous reddish mask of dust and clay obliterated his
face； his hands were shapeless stumps exaggerated in his trailing
sleeves。 And when he rose； staggering like a drunken man； and
plunged wildly into the recesses of the wood； a cloud of dust
followed him； and pieces and patches of his frayed and rotten
garments clung to the impeding branches。 Twice he fell； but；
maddened and upheld by the smarting spices and stimulating aroma
of the air； he kept on his course。
Gradually the heat became less oppressive； once when he stopped and
leaned exhaustedly against a sapling； he fancied he saw the zephyr
he could not yet feel in the glittering and trembling of leaves in
the distance before him。 Again the deep stillness was moved with a
faint sighing rustle； and he knew he must be nearing the edge of
the thicket。 The spell of silence thus broken was followed by a
fainter； more musical interruptionthe glassy tinkle of water！ A
step further his foot trembled on the verge of a slight ravine；
still closely canopied by the interlacing boughs overhead。 A tiny
stream that he could have dammed with his hand yet lingered in
this parched red gash in the hillside and trickled into a deep；
irregular； well…like cavity； that again overflowed and sent its
slight surplus on。 It had been the luxurious retreat of many a
spotted trout； it was to be the bath of Lance Harriott。 Without a
moment's hesitation； without removing a single garment； he slipped
cautiously into it； as if fearful of losing a single drop。 His
head disappeared from the level of the bank； the solitude was again
unbroken。 Only two objects remained upon the edge of the ravine；
his revolver and tobacco pouch。
A few minutes elapsed。 A fearless blue jay alighted on the bank
and made a prospecting peck at the tobacco pouch。 It yielded in
favor of a gopher； who endeavored to draw it toward his hole； but
in turn gave way to a red squirrel； whose attention was divided；
however； between the pouch and the revolver； which he regarded with
mischievous fascination。 Then there was a splash； a grunt； a
sudden dispersion of animated nature； and the head of Mr。 Lance
Harriott appeared above the bank。 It was a startling transformation。
Not only that he had； by this wholesale process； washed himself and
his light 〃drill〃 garments entirely clean； but that he had；
apparently by the same operation； morally cleansed HIMSELF； and left
every stain and ugly blot of his late misdeeds and reputation in his
bath。 His face； albeit scratched here and there； was rosy； round；
shining with irrepressible good humor and youthful levity。 His
large blue eyes were infantine in their innocent surprise and
thoughtlessness。 Dripping yet with water； and panting； he rested
his elbows lazily on the bank； and became instantly absorbed with a
boy's delight in the movements of the gopher； who； after the first
alarm； returned cautiously to abduct the tobacco pouch。 If any
familiar had failed to detect Lance Harriott in this hideous
masquerade of dust and grime and tatters； still less would any
passing stranger have recognized in this blond faun the possible
outcast and murderer。 And； when with a swirl of his spattering
sleeve； he drove back the gopher in a shower of spray and leaped to
the bank； he seemed to have accepted his felonious hiding…place as a
mere picnicking bower。
A slight breeze was unmistakably permeating the wood from the west。
Looking in that direction； Lance imagined that the shadow was less
dark； and although the undergrowth was denser； he struck off
carelessly toward it。 As he went on； the wood became lighter and
lighter； branches； and presently leaves； were painted against the
vivid blue of the sky。 He knew he must be near the summit；
stopped； felt for his revolver； and then lightly put the few
remaining branches aside。
The full glare of the noonday sun at first blinded him。 When he
could see more clearly； he found himself on the open western slope
of the mountain； which in the Coast Range was seldom wooded。 The
spiced thicket stretched between him and the summit； and again
between him and the stage road that plunges from the terrace； like
forked lightning into the valley below。 He could command all the
approaches without being seen。 Not that this seemed to occupy his
thoughts or cause him any anxiety。 His first act was to disencumber
himself of his tattered coat； he then filled and lighted his pipe；
and stretched himself full…length on the open hillside； as if to
bleach in the fierce sun。 While smoking he carelessly perused the
fragment of a newspaper which had enveloped his tobacco； and being
struck with some amusing paragraph； read it half aloud again to some
imaginary auditor； emphasizing its humor with an hilarious slap upon
his leg。
Possibly from the relaxation of fatigue and the bath； which had
become a vapor one as he alternately rolled and dried himself in
the baking grass； his eyes closed dreamily。 He was awakened by
the sound of voices。 Th