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Updated: June 27, 2025
"I never was so far from Oakhurst before, and, until this morning, you know, I had never seen either of your faces, but all that need not make such an absurd baby of me." Mrs. Judson unfolded a fine pocket handkerchief and held it toward the girl, with the most anxious look possible to imagine. "Wipe your eyes, dear young lady, wipe your eyes.
At Great Oakhurst she heard everything and took an interest in it, and she often wished with all her heart that the subject which occupied Marshall's thoughts was not Chartism but the draining of that heavy, rush-grown bit of rough pasture that lay at the bottom of the village. He was very good and kind to her, and she never imagined, before marriage, that he ought to be more.
Oakhurst walked toward the door, bolted it, and then faced her without a word. His face was haggard; his coat-sleeve hung loosely over an arm that was bandaged and bloody. Nevertheless her voice did not falter as she turned again toward him. "What has happened, Jack. Why are you here?" He opened his coat, and threw two letters in her lap.
It was, undoubtedly, the most suitable spot for a camp, had camping been advisable. But Mr. Oakhurst knew that scarcely half the journey to Sandy Bar was accomplished; and the party were not equipped or provisioned for delay. This fact he pointed out to his companions curtly, with a philosophic commentary on the folly of "throwing up their hand before the game was played out."
Every Roaring Camp had its Jack Hamlin as well as its Flynn of Virginia, John Oakhurst came with Yuba Bill, and the wild, strong, generous, reckless aggregate cared little for thrift, and wasted more than they earned. But it is not gold alone that in California has dazzled men with visions of sudden wealth.
Oakhurst expected to sup that evening; but simply for himself, and, mayhap, for the flowers' sake. Howbeit he passed on, and so out into the open Plaza, where, finding a bench under a cottonwood-tree, he first dusted the seat with his handkerchief, and then sat down. It was a fine morning.
Oakhurst took the Innocent aside, and showed him a pair of snowshoes, which he had fashioned from the old pack- saddle. "There's one chance in a hundred to save her yet," he said, pointing to Piney; "but it's there," he added, pointing toward Poker Flat. "If you can reach there in two days she's safe." "And you?" asked Tom Simson. "I'll stay here," was the curt reply.
Fanshawe, the gentlemanly faro dealer of those parts, built for the role of Oakhurst, going white-shirted and frock-coated in a community of overalls; and persuading you that whatever shifts and tricks of the game were laid to his deal, he could not practice them on a person of your penetration. But he does.
Mr. Oakhurst was a light sleeper. Toward morning he awoke benumbed and cold. As he stirred the dying fire, the wind, which was now blowing strongly, brought to his cheek that which caused the blood to leave it snow! He started to his feet with the intention of awakening the sleepers, for there was no time to lose. But turning to where Uncle Billy had been lying, he found him gone.
'Wait a bit, my dears, we're a precious awkward lot to fit in Marshall and his wife me and you and Miss Clara and the baby; and then there's Baruch, who's odd man, so to speak; that's three bedrooms. We sha'n't do it Otherwise, I was a-thinking 'What were you thinking? said Marshall. 'I've got it, said Mrs Caffyn, joyously. 'Miss Clara and me will go to Great Oakhurst on the Friday.
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