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Updated: July 23, 2025
He must know whether that strange object under the tree could be intended as a warning to him to cease in time his evil ways tormenting Towse, pulling Tennessee's hair, shirking the woodpile, and squandering Birt's rifle balls. He even feared this might be a notification that the hour of retribution had already come! He scuttled off the platform, and began to swing himself from bough to bough.
He held above the glowing coals a long fire shovel, on which the pulverized mineral had been placed, and his eyes were very bright as he earnestly watched it. "If it is gold," said the old man, "a moderate heat will not affect it." The shovel was growing hot. The live coals glowed beneath it. The breath of the fire stirred Tennessee's flaxen hair.
A miner, who might have sat for a study of "Tennessee's Partner," came down the hillside with a pan of "dirt," which he carefully washed in a muddy pool in the bed of the gulch. He showed me the result, a few "colors" and sulphurets. He said it would "go about five dollars to the ton," and seemed well satisfied with the result.
And apparently oblivious of the excitement, Tennessee's Partner improved the opportunity to mop his face again with his handkerchief.
Squirrels hastened to gain a secure outlook from higher boughs; and the bluejays, spreading their wings, fluttered before them like outriders, until the outskirts of Sandy Bar were reached, and the solitary cabin of Tennessee's Partner. Viewed under more favorable circumstances, it would not have been a cheerful place.
It's a hot night. I disremember any sich weather before on the Bar." He paused a moment, but nobody volunteering any other meteorological recollection, he again had recourse to his pocket handkerchief, and for some moments mopped his face diligently. "Have you anything to say in behalf of the prisoner?" said the Judge, finally. "Thet's it," said Tennessee's Partner, in a tone of relief.
No one paid the slightest attention to me. All were engaged in a wild race to reach and mount the Tennessee's ladder. I scrambled up with the rest, and when, on the deck, an officer demanded my passport, I put on a bold front and asked him to tell Captain Decker that Mr. Aaronsohn wished to see him. Ten minutes later I stood in the captain's cabin.
But a quiet, uneventful life in the valley was not to return to Sergeant York. The Sunday following was Tennessee's Decoration Day. From the mountains for miles around the people came to Pall Mall. During the ceremonies, while the flowers were being placed upon the graves in the little cemetery, they wanted Alvin to talk to them.
Over the mountains, across the plains, by the Isthmus, and by the Horn they came, that wonderful procession which Bret Harte has made so familiar to us Truthful James, Tennessee's Partner, Jack Hamlin, John Oakhurst, Flynn of Virginia, Abner Dean of Angels, Brown of Calaveras, Yuba Bill, Sandy McGee, the Scheezicks, the Man of No Account, and all the rest.
John Oakhurst by name; we remember Kentuck and Tennessee's Partner, at least by nickname; and we remember their several qualities.
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