Rensselaer Union, Volume 5, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 April 1873 — LOT'S WIFE. [ARTICLE]

LOT'S WIFE.

BY S. READE BROCKTON.

Three of ns held joint possession of a “claim" in one of the rural districts of the piacer mining country. A,t first we had excellent success; the sand seemed rich with. dust, and several small nuggets of the pure ore attested our rising fortunes. In a short time, however, the yield began to diminish; somehow it didn’t seem to “pan out" well. Our Monty washings of dust grew scantier There was little chance for romance in the life we led. We worked hard in the “diggings” all day, taking our cold snack at noon; and morning ana evening “took turns” in our culinary duties, and the keeping of our little shanty. Upon washing days —“few and far between"— after wrestling mightily with soiled gar ments and creek water, augmenting considerably therein the alluvial deposit, we were wont to lounge in triune council, smoking our pipes of peace, and viewing complacently our renovated apparel, dripping and swaying upon the tops of the neighboring brush.

The surrounding “claims,” with the exception of one adjoining, had been worked out and abandoned long ago; but with a pertinacity born of necessity, we had clung to ours. We had put in everything we had here; and it must be a hard struggle which should cause us to throw it ail up, and leave empty-handed. The boys in the next ciaim were either “harder up” or more easily discouraged than we, for after trying in vain to sell out, they abandoned their claim and left the mines entirely—all bnt one man, who, for some reason best known to himself decided to remain behind. There were no other occupied “claims” within a space of three miles; and ouT" nearest point of obtaining supplies being a day’s journey out, onsfcan easily imagine that in our isolated situation the gain of a comrade was not a merely nominal consideration. Tomkins, the new comer, or “Lot,” as fc© was familiarly called, was a character. Originally a New Hampshire man, and shiftless as only a degenerate scion from the thrifty New England stock can be, he had emigrated from the “land of steady habits,” first to the West, and from thence to our American “El Dorado.” Fated to disappointment he had drifted about hither and thither, led by-one-freak aDd another, until finally he had settled down in the mines. Lot was a famous story teller, abounding in legendary lore, and rich in a store of quaint old-time ballads. In the beginning of his life with us, he might have been often heard hilariously chanting in a highpitched, nasal tone: i_... - “The sand with golden dost U thick. Ho, boys, hot fiekspfmpe M big M a brick, Of Califorajr gold!” Humorous, easy, and with a strong dash of egotism, combined with persistent good nature and lively credulity—such was Lot as we first knew him at the mines. Eventually, however, his enthusiasm died out; for, as Lot himself feelingly expressed it: “The darned thing was e’en a most gin eout!” As I have before stated, for some reason best known to himself, Lot had considered it expedient to remain behind at the time his partners abandoned the claim. Our explanation of this was, that to his easy disposition it seemed less difficult to “bear the ills he had” than subject himself to the exertion of seeking “those he knew not of.” Subsequently, however, considerable additional light was thrown upon this subject. . One afternoon—it might have been three weeks after the exodus of Lot’s partners—one of our neighbors, engaged in mining three miles further up the gulch, reined into camp on his way back from the city, where he had been to deposit his dust in the Miner’s Bank, and get out a lot of supplies. “Halloo! George! Chris! Here are letters tor you!” he cried, tossing us the welcome missives. Lot, loitering up, with quizzical smile, perpetrated his standing joke: “Wall, saay, ye ain’t got nothin’fur me now, ain’t ye?" “No, I guess not," returned the other, with a peculiar twinkle beneath his bushy eyebrows; “but thar's a woman an’ four small children on the way, asking fur just sic-h a looking feller as you.” Lot’s jocularity vanished in an instant; his jaw dropped, and, with visible agitation, he blurted out: “Come, naow, none ofyer foolin’ ! Ye don’t puli that on with me!” “Fooling? Nary, time! It’s sober truth.” A sickly pallor swept over the man’s countenance, and he seemed to shrink within himself until dwarfed much below his usual diminutive stature. “What? What’s that yeou bay?" he stammered wildly, “1 say a woman an’ four small children ari coining way, sarching fur a husband and father.” “How fur behind?” gasped the anxious Lot, whose legs were fast getting tremulous under him. “Oh, a matter of three mile, or thereabouts!” and with a nod and a knowing glance, and “No further news, boys!” to ns, the little mule, answering the spur of ■his rider, struck into a brisk gallop, which speedily carried them both out of sight. There we stood, inquiringly facing Lot. He gulped awhile, but finally out with it: „ “The fact is, boys r\l’m married!" And with this lucid explanation, Lot, with rapid and somewhat unsteady step, disappeared within his cabin. After a few seconds he hastily emerged, bearing in his hands a pack of thumbed and greasy cards, a set of dice, several worn “dime hovels,” and an old “Com ique Songster.” “I guess, boys, I shan’t need these any longer," he said, flushing painfully—alternately standing on one foot, and then shifting his weight to the other; “so I thought I’d jist clean ’em eout. Some wimmen folk is pertickerler, ye know.” Chris took the articles, and offered to keep them for him. “ Wal, if ye’ve a mind to. I’d be much obleeged to ye. It mought be possible—barely possible, ye know—they’d come handy some time.” And Lot, his neck just bending to receive the yoke, looked forward with vague expectancy to a dim chance of future release. Pitying the poor fellow’s evident discomfiture, we refrained from joking or questioning him,and impatiently awaited those “coming events” which had so unmistakably “cast their shadows before.” Just at sundown, a novel train was seen wending its way toward the camp. Lot stood in the door of his cabin, while we, drawn together a little in the background, watched for developments. In advance rode a figure in female ap-‘ pare!, perched upon the back of a gaunt pack-horse, a child, just past the „ threshold of infancy, clasped by one arm, and another, also of tender years, sitting astride the pillion, its limited embrace aspiring to encircle the maternal Waist. A trifle in the rear came a rough mountaineer, fa the capacity of guide, sandwiched between two children of a larger growth, the elder of whom could sot have exceeded the age of ten years. A monstrous dog of the St Bernard breed, formed, successively, flank and Checking the beast within a few rods of fat the woman gave a keen, scrutinizing glance around, which rested at last fixedly upon the countenance of Lot.. “That’s him!” she exclaimed, in a strong, decided, though not unmusical

voice, nodding significantly to the guide. “We’ll atop." , , Clasping the infant tightly, and loosing the arms of the other from about her waist, down she slid, lithe as a young girl; and in a twinkling had the three children on their feet, and the youngest transferred to the arms _of_ the ten-year- — i-X... Lot waited in an apparently dejected mood, while she settled with the guide from her own pocket, with business-like dispatch. Then she led her little brood, followed closely by the dog, up to the door of our neighbor’s cabin. “Well, Lot, we’ve come.” “1 see you have, Marier!" And the door closed upon Lot and his family. On the ensuing morning we were able jo arrive at a more correct estimate of the new comer, who early introduced herseli to us as “Lot’s wife.” Bhewasof fair complexion, short in stature, and very slim about the waist. Her thin flaxen hair was drawn smoothly back from a prominent forehead; and fastened in a tight button-like knot at the back of her neck. Restless blue eyes, a sharp nose, thin cheeks, and a firm, large mouth, filled with even, white teeth, completed the list of her personal characteristics. Energy, decision, business, was written on every lineament of the little Woman’s countenance —spoke in every restless move of her “li.'some” body. j In the first three sentences she spoke a Contract was matured, to the effect that we, furnishing the wherewith, should thenceforward look to her to “keep the pot boilmg," at the average rate ot “ twenty-five cents a head " per diem. Lot’s children were miniature reproductions of the mother; and were under a control little short of automatical. Even Lion, the great St. Bernard, seemed; to know his place, and performed various useful duties, under the judicious eye of his mistress and ruling spirit. “Never had much opinion of dogs, anyway," she said, rather apologetically, one morning, as, distributing our breakfast, she glanced at Lion and the infant, rolling and gamboling together in the deep warm sand. “ Never could bear one, until Lion there, then only a half-grown pup, saved my first baby. He, just, a weeny, toddling thing, got out of the door, and down to the creek; and the first thing I saw was the dog, bringing him out, strangled and dripping, in. his mouth. I wouldn’t part with that dog for hisweightm gold!” Whatever Lot’s inmost mind or secret repinings, his outward life bore evidence of a marked revolution toward the side of fruitful and virtuous industry. No more loiterings at tasks or levity of demeanor; no judicial magnate ever clothed himself in dignity and reticence more severe than characterized Lot under the new administration, at whose head stood his brisk little wife. To us, the advent of Lot’s wife marked the commencement of a new era; wholesome food, a tidy cabin, and, above all, no more darning of socks, or washingdays. The wilderness had begun to blossom. We even attained to, now and then, the luxury of a “biled shirt." We were opening up, a new and richer vein in our claim, and prosperity and contentment smiled upon us. ~— It was an evil day that dawned upon our camp in the gulch, when one of the boys, ten miles above us, turned in on his way to the city, almost prostrate from a sudden attack of mountain fever, and with money to pay a note which had become due on a quartz mill. He wanted to know if any of us were going in, as he could make it worth our while to do the errand for him, he remaining at our cabin until the messenger’s return. As it happened, we were not intending to go for several days, our stock of supplies on hand being considerable, and not having enough dust to pay for carrying to the bank. Lot’s wife, however, on learning the state of affairs, was observed to communicate some instructions to the ten-year-old, who immediately “ lit out ” in the direction of his father’s claim. A few moments, and Lot himself came in. He was willing to accommodate, and would go to the city. His claim wasn’t paying him much; and he might as well look about a little. All -of which familiar terms might have been translated to mean that his wife was not at all averse to earning the “something” before intimated which should “make it worth his while.” None of us questioned Lot’s honesty, and we made haste to get him off as soon as possible. It was after nightfall of the ensuing day, when he was seen riding furiously toward the camp, looking neither right nor left, bating neither breath nor speed, until, opposite his own threshold, he leaped to the ground, dashed inside the cabin, and slammed the door. We had, scarce time to wonder at this strange and unusual proceeding, when there swarmed upon us a party of men—armed, and stern, members of a Vigilance Committee. Their errand was soon made known; they were in pursuit of the unhappy Lot. A party instantly surrounded his Cabin. Then the whole of the unfortunate affair came out. Lot’s spirit, released from its accustomed restraint, had rebounded like a balloon that has thrown over its ballast. “Marier’s” last words were useless as the wind against this sudden and overwhelming elation, born of renewed liberty. His journey furnished him a golden opportunity, though brief, for the renewal of those harmless indulgences of late so religiously . A chance acquaintance, jnet just in the edge of town, easily led the way to a friendly tipple in the nearest saloon. This exchange of good-fellowship eventually resulted in many more, bnder the combined influence of which, no Rothschild ever felt richer than did Lot with the trust-money in his hand. What occurred thereafter, passed to Lot like a troubled dream. There was a vague remembrance of all hands .at the bar, a scuffle, a pistol-shot or two; and then the mad race home, a trust betrayed, the stain of blood upon his hands, and the ‘‘Vigilantes” close upon his heels. They were sure enough of him now—twelve men to one, and he trapped like a prairie dog in his hole. Lion, the huge St. Bernard, came Bmelliiig at the garments of the invaders, looking up with large, inquiring eyes. Half-unconsciously, the leader patted the rough head carelessly, as it rubbed against his hand. The dog, fr iendly to the friendly, reared upon his hind legs and placed his fore paws on the leader’s shoulders —standing a half-head taller than the man himself. Meanwhile, neither sound nor light came from Lot’s caoin. Lion, going over, pushed at the door with a low whine. Soeedily following, the leader, with three of his men, knocked for admittance. Straightway in the door appeared Lot’s wife. “Gentlemen, what will you have?" “We have business with your husband, Madam. Will you ask him" to step outside?” “My husband is not able to attend to business, to-night.” “But our business is important, and cannot wait. If Jie does not come out, we must come in.” “Gentlemen, you cannot see husband tonight!" Her voice was firm, even, decisive; perhaps a trifle more decisive than usual. The dog, crouching at her feet, gave a lowgrowL “Woman, we have no time* to bandy words! Let us pass!"

. The dog rose partly bp, with a menacing growl. The woman behind him seemed to rise and expand in the white hegt of passion that possessed her. Her voice rose high and shrill: “And 1 say you shall not pass! you that come, twelve armed men, with murder in e hearts, to take an innocent man out the midst of his helpless children: I swear that you shall not touch a hair of his head to-night 1” As she spoke, drawing with dexterous hand a “Colt’s navy” from the folds of her dreys, she held it at full cock, bearing straight upon the leader’s heart. Not a man among them but was touched at the sight of this dauntless devotion; yet emotion must not prevent the discharge of duty.

“But this man has committed murder—the gravest crime known in the eyes of the law. Public safety demands that we deal with him according to the letter of the law,” expostulated the leader, more moved than he eared to acknowledge. A superb scorn overswept the woman’s features. Bending to touch the dog with her hand, the huge creature drew himself erect, angry and bristling, with lips drawn threateningly back from his formidable teeth. Then boldly throwing open the cabin door, she pointed with upraised finger, still holding the deadly weapon s aimed full at the leader’s brca&t. A scathing contempt rang in her words: “Does that man look like a cut-throat? Can you all, looking inside this cabin, tell me" that you are afraid to spare him to his wife and children this one last night?” tilie paused a moment, glancing swiftly around the circle of rough faces pressing close upon her. The tableau within showed Lot, crouching upon a low campstool, pale, disordered, and shaking with terror, clasping in his arms his youngestborn; the two girls, firm and fearless as their mother, were planted at his knees; while between him and the door, the ten-year-old, with a dilapidated chair a 3 a rest, stood behind his father’s rifle. The she-bear and her cubs were grit to the backbone, ■■ “Who tire you?” she cried, eloquently gesturing to the crowd with her unoccupied hand, “that take the business of the Almighty into your own hands, and send the souls he has made unbidden into his presence, without a prayer for mercy? Which would be the better, you or him? Leave him to us a heaven above us, in the morning you shall come in without hindrance! You can guard the cabin. There is no danger he will escape you!” There was a murmur among the “Vigilantes.” Their task was a harder one than they were prepared to execute; and perhaps a thought of wives and children at home moved them a little to this unwonted leniency. A brief conference, and the leader said: “Have your way. Make the most of your time. We’ll not disturb you until morning.” - —— “You are not deceiving me?” she said, watching the while with eyes which seemed to pierce like sharp steel points: A hoarse murmur ran through the crowd. “No! no! Fair play!” For a moment the woman’s strength seemed to fail, and she leaned heavily against the casement; another, and she disappeared within, the faithful dog following protectingly, Close behind. The men bivouacked around the cabin, disposing themselves for the night, two or three appointed sentinels keeping vigilant watch, The other members of the camp, unable to sleep, had kept wakeful vigil, using our little influence and knowledge of the accused’s inoffensive disposition; to.jmitigate, if possible, the prejudice which we found greater than the real weight of evidence against him. In an affray, two men had been stabbed —one seriously, one fatally; and Lot’s hand held a bloody knife. Innocent men have been hanged, even after full judicial trial, under circumstantial evidence far less convincing than this. As the night wore away, I restlessly paced the camp. An occasional sound came from the guarded cabin, but otherwise all was still. Once, about midnight, after a prolonged scratching at the door, it was opened to let out the dog. A stream Of light flashed out, but I caught no glimpse of those within. The dog, poor fellow, as though his canine spirit seemed to comprehend the fatal danger impending over those he loved, with drooping head and pendant tail, slunk through the open SDace. “Good Lion! 'Poor fellow! Come herei” I called. He lifted his head at the sound of my voice, raised his muzzle mournfully in the air, then drooping it again, went on, soon disappearing in the adjacent chaparral. At the first faint streak of day the “Vigilantes” bestirred themselves, and in knots discussed the grave business before them. The excitement of the past night had worn away, and hi these calmer moments not one of those most eager for duty then, but wished himself relieved from the painful responsibility devolving upon him. There was yet no sign of life about the cabin. 1 \ - Never, I think, did the solemnity of the occasion appeal more forcibly to the hearts of the “Vigilantes.” They were confident —terribly confident—that the prisoner would be found guilty. With voices subdued, and quiet' mien, they awaited the action-bf their leader, who humanely postponed, to the last possible moment, his official summons. Just as the sun’s disk appeared above the horizon, three of the committee advancing, knocked upon the door. With eyes red and swollen with weeping, Lot’s wife opened it wide. With a sickening sensation I fail to describe, I awaitad what was to follow. A suggestive rope lay where it had been thrown, at the foot of a neighboring tree. With a shudder I recalled the many times Lot had sat under the shadow of its branches, his children playing about his knees. Chris and George had followed at the heels of the other party. A resounding slap upon the shoulder nearly sent me reeling to the earth. “By the great Moses, that little woman’s a Drick!” “What is it, Chris?” I asked in astonishment; for his lively tone was anything but appropriate for the occasion. “Come and see!” and seizing me by the arm, he commenced dragging me toward Lot’s cabin. A sudden revelation came to me: Lot had committed suicide! Well! better so than the hangman’s noose! Entering the cabin prison, a singular spectacle presented itself. The committee stood in a dismayed group in the center of the room; while Lot’s wife, stern and resolute no longer, bent over the huge dismantled carcass of poor Lion. Gone was the nerve, the passion, and power, which had, the night previous, supported and lifted her above her sex. Plainer, mofe meagre, if possible, than usual, there was yet a something touching in her weakness; perhaps because it was so foreign to her nature. * Lifting her woe begone countenance as I approached, she exclaimed brokenly, “I’d a’most rather died than done it; but there wasn’t no other wav!” Hardly had the news of the escape spread through the camp, when a horseman, riding at break-neck speed, came, in the midst of a cloud of dust, flying up the trail. In his hand he bore a white signal, which he persistently waved as he advanced. Dashing into camp, he threw 1

himself breathlessly into the midstof the “Vigilantes.” “Where is the man you were going to hang?” “.Escaped.” > “Thank God! far he didn’t do it! Frisco Bill has confessed the deed!” Then the cheers that rang out might almost have rent the heavens -in twain; but Lot’s wife, alone with her sleeping children, crouched in mournful silence over the form of her poor, dumb sacrifice —silent and faithful even unto death.— Lakeside Monthly. «