creature, and his forty-three years sit lightly upon him; he could pass
for a younger man–say thirty-six or thirty-seven. He has never married
again–passes himself off for a widower. He stands well, is liked, is
popular, and has many friends. Even I feel a drawing toward him–the
paternal blood in me making its claim. How blind and unreasoning and
arbitrary are some of the laws of nature–the most of them, in fact! My
task is become hard now–you realize it? you comprehend, and make
allowances?–and the fire of it has cooled, more than I like to confess
to myself, But I will carry it out. Even with the pleasure paled, the
duty remains, and I will not spare him.
And for my help, a sharp resentment rises in me when I reflect that he
who committed that odious crime is the only one who has not suffered by
it. The lesson of it has manifestly reformed his character, and in the
change he is happy. He, the guilty party, is absolved from all
suffering; you, the innocent, are borne down with it. But be comforted–
he shall harvest his share.
SILVER GULCH, May 19
I placarded Form No. 1 at midnight of April 3; an hour later I slipped
Form No. 2 under his chamber door, notifying him to leave Denver at or
before 11.50 the night of the 14th.
Some late bird of a reporter stole one of my placards, then hunted the
town over and found the other one, and stole that. In this manner he
accomplished what the profession call a “scoop”–that is, he got a
valuable item, and saw to it that no other paper got it. And so his
paper–the principal one in the town–had it in glaring type on the
editorial page in the morning, followed by a Vesuvian opinion of our
wretch a column long, which wound up by adding a thousand dollars to our
reward on the paper’s account! The journals out here know how to do the
noble thing–when there’s business in it.
At breakfast I occupied my usual seat–selected because it afforded a
view of papa Fuller’s face, and was near enough for me to hear the talk
that went on at his table. Seventy-five or a hundred people were in the
room, and all discussing that item, and saying they hoped the seeker
would find that rascal and remove the pollution of his presence from the
town–with a rail, or a bullet, or something.
When Fuller came in he had the Notice to Leave–folded up–in one hand,
and the newspaper in the other; and it gave me more than half a pang to
see him. His cheerfulness was all gone, and he looked old and pinched
and ashy. And then–only think of the things he had to listen to!
Mamma, he heard his own unsuspecting friends describe him with epithets
and characterizations drawn from the very dictionaries and phrase-books
of Satan’s own authorized editions down below. And more than that, he
had to agree with the verdicts and applaud them. His applause tasted
bitter in his mouth, though; he could not disguise that from me; and it
was observable that his appetite was gone; he only nibbled; he couldn’t
eat. Finally a man said:
“It is quite likely that that relative is in the room and hearing what
this town thinks of that unspeakable scoundrel. I hope so.”
Ah, dear, it was pitiful the way Fuller winced, and glanced around
scared! He couldn’t endure any more, and got up and left.
During several days he gave out that he had bought a mine in Mexico, and
wanted to sell out and go down there as soon as he could, and give the
property his personal attention. He played his cards well; said he would
take $40,000–a quarter in cash, the rest in safe notes; but that as he
greatly needed money on account of his new purchase, he would diminish
his terms for cash in full, He sold out for $30,000. And then, what do
you think he did? He asked for greenbacks, and took them, saying the man
in Mexico was a New-Englander, with a head full of crotchets, and