The Golden Dream - Robert Michael Ballantyne (best biographies to read .txt) 📗

wild horse, so, says I, `I'll go with ye,' an', says he, `come 'long,' so away we went, slappin' over the plains at a great rate, him and me, and a Yankee, a friend o' his and three or four servants, after a drove o' wild horses that had been seen that mornin' near the house. Well, away we went after the wild horses. Oh! it was grand sport! The man had lent me one of his beasts, an' it went at such a spankin' pace, I could scarce keep my seat, and had to hold on by the saddle--not bein' used to ridin' much, d'ye see. We soon picked out a horse--a splendid-lookin' feller, with curved neck, and free gallop, and wide nostrils. My eye! how he did snort and plunge, when the Mexican threw the lasso, it went right over his head the first cast, but the wild horse pulled the rope out o' his grip. `It's all up,' thought I; but never a bit. The Mexican put spurs to his horse, an' while at full gallop, made a dive with his body, and actually caught the end o' the line, as it trailed over the ground, and recovered his seat again. It was done in a crack; an', I believe, he held on by means of his spurs, which were big enough, I think, to make wheels for a small carronade. Takin' a turn o' the line round the horn of his saddle, he reined in a bit, and then gave the spurs for another spurt, and soon after reined in again--in fact, he jist played the wild horse like a trout, until he well-nigh choked him; an', in an hour, or less, he was led steamin', and startin', and jumpin', into the corral, where the man kept his other horses."

At this point in the narrative, the cries for music became so deafening, that the sailor was obliged to pause, to the evident annoyance of the negro, who seemed intensely interested in what he had heard; and, also, to the regret of Larry, who had listened eagerly the whole time. In a few minutes the "music" came in, in the shape of two bald-headed Frenchmen, a wild-looking bearded German, and several lean men, who might, as far as appearance went, have belonged to almost any nation; and who would have, as far as musical ability went, been repudiated by every nation, except, perhaps, the Chinese. During the quarter of an hour in which these performers quieted the impatient audience with sweet sounds, the sailor continued his anecdote.

"Well, you see," said he to the negro, while Larry bent forward to listen, "the Mexican mounted, and raced and spurred him for about an hour; but, just at the last, the wild horse gave a tremendous leap and a plunge, and we noticed the rider fall forward, as if he'd got a sprain. The Yankee an' one o' the servants ran up, and caught the horse by the head, but its rider didn't move--he was stone dead, and was held in his seat by the spurs sticking in the saddle-cloth. The last bound must have ruptured some blood-vessel inside, for there was no sign of hurt upon him anywhere."

"You don' say dat?" said the negro, with a look of horror.

"'Deed do I; an' we took the poor feller home, where his little daughter cried for him as if she'd break her heart. I asked the Yankee what we should do, but he looked at me somewhat offended like, an' said he was a relation o' the dead man's wife, and could manage the affairs o' the family without help; so I bid him good mornin', and went my way. But I believe in my heart he was tellin' a lie, and that he's no right to go hawkin' the poor gal about the country in this fashion."

Larry was deeply interested in this narrative, and felt so strong a disposition to make further inquiries, that he made up his mind to question the sailor, and was about to address him when a small bell tinkled, the music ceased, and three Ethiopian minstrels, banjo in hand, advanced to the foot-lights, made their bow, and then seated themselves on the three chairs, with that intensity of consummate, impudent, easy familiarity peculiar to the ebony sons of song.

"Go it, darkies!" shouted an enthusiastic individual in the middle of the room.

"Three cheers for the niggers!" roared a sailor, who had just returned from a twelvemonth's cruise at the mines, and whose delight at the prospect of once more hearing a good song was quite irrepressible.

The audience responded to the call with shouts of laughter, and a cheer that would have done your heart good to listen to, while the niggers shewed their teeth in acknowledgment of the compliment.

The first song was "Lilly Dale," and the men, who, we need scarcely say, were fictitious negroes, sang it so well that the audience listened with breathless attention and evident delight, and encored it vociferously. The next song was "Oh! Massa, how he wopped me," a ditty of quite a different stamp, but equally popular. It also was encored, as indeed was every song sting that evening; but the performers had counted on this. After the third song there was a hornpipe, in the performance of which the dancer's chief aim seemed to be, to shew in what a variety of complex ways he could shake himself to pieces if he chose. Then there was another trio, and then a short pause, in order duly to prepare the public mind for the reception of the great _cantatrice_ Mademoiselle Nelina. When she was led to the foot-lights by the tallest of the three negroes, there was a momentary pause, as if men caught their breath; then there was a prolonged cheer of enthusiastic admiration. And little wonder, for the creature that appeared before these rough miners seemed more like an angelic visitant than a mortal.

There was nothing strikingly beautiful about the child, but she possessed that inexpressibly _sweet_ character of face that takes the human heart by storm at first sight; and this, added to the fact that she was almost the only one of her sex who had been seen for many months by any of those present,--that she was fair, blue-eyed, delicate, modestly dressed, and innocent, filled them with an amount of enthusiasm that would have predisposed them to call a scream melodious, had it been uttered by Mademoiselle Nelina.

But the voice which came timidly from her lips was in harmony with her appearance. There was no attempt at execution, and the poor child was too frightened to succeed in imparting much expression to the simple ballad which she warbled; but there was an inherent richness in the tones of her voice that entranced the ear, and dwelt for weeks and months afterwards on the memory of those who heard it that night.

It is needless to add, that all her songs were encored with rapturous applause. The second song she sang was the popular one, "Erin, my country!" and it created quite a _furore_ among the audience, many of whom were natives of the Green Isle.

"Oh! ye purty creature! sing it again, do!" yelled an Irishman in the front seats, while he waved his hat, and cheered in mad enthusiasm. The multitude shouted, "Encore!" and the song was sung for the third time.

While it was singing, Larry O'Neil sat with his hands clasped before him, his bosom heaving, and his eyes riveted on the child's face.

"Mr Sinton," he said, in a deep, earnest tone, touching Ned on the shoulder, as the last sweet notes of the air were drowned in the thunder of applause that followed Mademoiselle Nelina off the stage; "Mr Sinton, I'd lay me life that it's _her_!"

"Who?" inquired Ned, smiling at the serious expression of his comrade's face.

"Who but Nelly Morgan, av course. She's the born image o' Kate. They're as like as two paise. Sure av it's her, I'll know it, I will; an' I'll make that black thief of a Yankee explain how he comed to possess stolen goods."

Ned and the captain at first expressed doubts as to Larry's being able to swear to the identity of one whom he had never seen before; but the earnest assurances of the Irishman convinced them that he must be right, and they at once entered into his feelings, and planned, in an eager undertone, how the child was to be communicated with.

"It won't do," said Ned, "to tax the man right out with his villainy. The miners would say we wanted to get possession of the child to make money by her."

"But if the child herself admitted that the man was not her relative!" suggested Captain Bunting.

"Perhaps," returned Ned, "she might at the same time admit that she didn't like the appearance of the strangers who made such earnest inquiries about her, and prefer to remain with her present guardian."

"Niver fear," said Larry, in a hoarse whisper; "she'll not say that if I tell her I know her sister Kate, and can take her to her. Besides, hasn't she got an Irish heart? an' don't I know the way to touch it? Jist stay where ye are, both o' ye, an' I'll go behind the scenes. The niggers are comin' on again, so I'll try; maybe there's nobody there but herself."

Before they could reply, Larry was gone. In a few minutes he reached the front seats, and, leaning his back against the wall, as if he were watching the performers, he gradually edged himself into the dark corner where the side curtain shut off the orchestra from the public. To his great satisfaction he found that this was only secured to the wall by one or two nails, which he easily removed, and then, in the midst of an uproarious laugh, caused by a joke of the serenaders, he pushed the curtain aside, and stood before the astonished gaze of Mademoiselle Nelina, who sat on a chair, with her hands clasped and resting on her knee. Unfortunately for the success of Larry's enterprise, he also stood before the curtain-raiser--a broad, sturdy man, in rough miner's costume--whose back was turned towards him, but whose surprised visage instantly faced him on hearing the muffled noise caused by his entry. There was a burly negro also in the place, seated on a small stool, who looked at him with unqualified astonishment.

"Halloo! wot do _you_ want?" exclaimed the curtain-raiser.

"Eh! tare an' ages!" cried Larry, in amazement. "May I niver! Sure it's draimin' I am; an' the ghost o' Bill Jones is comed to see me!"

It was, indeed, no other than Bill Jones who stood revealed before him; but no friendly glance of recognition did his old comrade vouchsafe him. He continued, after the first look of surprise, to frown steadily on the intruder.

"You've the advantage o' me, young man," said Bill, in a stern, though subdued tone, for he feared to disturb the men on the stage; "moreover, you've comed in where ye've got no right to be. When a man goes where he shouldn't ought to, an' things looks as if they wasn't all square, in them circumstances, blow high or blow low, I always goes straight for'ard an' shoves him out. If he don't shove easy, why, put on more steam--that's wot _I_ say."

"But sure ye don't forgit me, Bill!" pleaded Larry, in amazement.

"Well, p'r'aps