Complete Poetical Works by Bret Harte Part 22

Will I?--G.o.d bless you!

It's me!

THE GHOST THAT JIM SAW

Why, as to that, said the engineer, Ghosts ain't things we are apt to fear; Spirits don't fool with levers much, And throttle-valves don't take to such; And as for Jim, What happened to him Was one half fact, and t'other half whim!

Running one night on the line, he saw A house--as plain as the moral law-- Just by the moonlit bank, and thence Came a drunken man with no more sense Than to drop on the rail Flat as a flail, As Jim drove by with the midnight mail.

Down went the patents--steam reversed.

Too late! for there came a "thud." Jim cursed As the fireman, there in the cab with him, Kinder stared in the face of Jim, And says, "What now?"

Says Jim, "What now!

I've just run over a man,--that's how!"

The fireman stared at Jim. They ran Back, but they never found house nor man,-- Nary a shadow within a mile.

Jim turned pale, but he tried to smile, Then on he tore Ten mile or more, In quicker time than he'd made afore.

Would you believe it! the very next night Up rose that house in the moonlight white, Out comes the chap and drops as before, Down goes the brake and the rest encore; And so, in fact, Each night that act Occurred, till folks swore Jim was cracked.

Humph! let me see; it's a year now, 'most, That I met Jim, East, and says, "How's your ghost?"

"Gone," says Jim; "and more, it's plain That ghost don't trouble me again.

I thought I shook That ghost when I took A place on an Eastern line,--but look!

"What should I meet, the first trip out, But the very house we talked about, And the selfsame man! 'Well,' says I, 'I guess It's time to stop this 'yer foolishness.'

So I crammed on steam, When there came a scream From my fireman, that jest broke my dream:

"'You've killed somebody!' Says I, 'Not much!

I've been thar often, and thar ain't no such, And now I'll prove it!' Back we ran, And--darn my skin!--but thar WAS a man On the rail, dead, Smashed in the head!-- Now I call that meanness!" That's all Jim said.

"SEVENTY-NINE"

(MR. INTERVIEWER INTERVIEWED)

Know me next time when you see me, won't you, old smarty?

Oh, I mean YOU, old figger-head,--just the same party!

Take out your pensivil, d--n you; sharpen it, do!

Any complaints to make? Lots of 'em--one of 'em's YOU.

You! who are YOU, anyhow, goin' round in that sneakin' way?

Never in jail before, was you, old blatherskite, say?

Look at it; don't it look pooty? Oh, grin, and be d--d to you, do!

But if I had you this side o' that gratin,' I'd just make it lively for you.

How did I get in here? Well what 'ud you give to know?

'Twasn't by sneakin' round where I hadn't no call to go; 'Twasn't by hangin' round a-spyin' unfortnet men.

Grin! but I'll stop your jaw if ever you do that agen.

Why don't you say suthin, blast you? Speak your mind if you dare.

Ain't I a bad lot, sonny? Say it, and call it square.

Hain't got no tongue, hey, hev ye? Oh, guard! here's a little swell A cussin' and swearin' and yellin', and bribin' me not to tell.

There! I thought that 'ud fetch ye! And you want to know my name?

"Seventy-nine" they call me, but that is their little game; For I'm werry highly connected, as a gent, sir, can understand, And my family hold their heads up with the very furst in the land.

For 'twas all, sir, a put-up job on a pore young man like me; And the jury was bribed a puppos, and at furst they couldn't agree; And I sed to the judge, sez I,--Oh, grin! it's all right, my son!

But you're a werry lively young pup, and you ain't to be played upon!

Wot's that you got?--tobacco? I'm cussed but I thought 'twas a tract.

Thank ye! A chap t'other day--now, lookee, this is a fact-- Slings me a tract on the evils o' keepin' bad company, As if all the saints was howlin' to stay here along o' we.

No, I hain't no complaints. Stop, yes; do you see that chap,-- Him standin' over there, a-hidin' his eyes in his cap?

Well, that man's stumick is weak, and he can't stand the pris'n fare; For the coffee is just half beans, and the sugar it ain't nowhere.

Perhaps it's his bringin' up; but he's sickenin' day by day, And he doesn't take no food, and I'm seein' him waste away.

And it isn't the thing to see; for, whatever he's been and done, Starvation isn't the plan as he's to be saved upon.

For he cannot rough it like me; and he hasn't the stamps, I guess, To buy him his extry grub outside o' the pris'n mess.

And perhaps if a gent like you, with whom I've been sorter free, Would--thank you! But, say! look here! Oh, blast it! don't give it to ME!

Don't you give it to me; now, don't ye, don't ye, DON'T!

You think it's a put-up job; so I'll thank ye, sir, if you won't.

But hand him the stamps yourself: why, he isn't even my pal; And, if it's a comfort to you, why, I don't intend that he shall.

THE STAGE-DRIVER'S STORY

It was the stage-driver's story, as he stood with his back to the wheelers, Quietly flecking his whip, and turning his quid of tobacco; While on the dusty road, and blent with the rays of the moonlight, We saw the long curl of his lash and the juice of tobacco descending.

"Danger! Sir, I believe you,--indeed, I may say, on that subject, You your existence might put to the hazard and turn of a wager.

I have seen danger? Oh, no! not me, sir, indeed, I a.s.sure you: 'Twas only the man with the dog that is sitting alone in yon wagon.

"It was the Geiger Grade, a mile and a half from the summit: Black as your hat was the night, and never a star in the heavens.

Thundering down the grade, the gravel and stones we sent flying Over the precipice side,--a thousand feet plumb to the bottom.

"Half-way down the grade I felt, sir, a thrilling and creaking, Then a lurch to one side, as we hung on the bank of the canyon; Then, looking up the road, I saw, in the distance behind me, The off hind wheel of the coach, just loosed from its axle, and following.

"One glance alone I gave, then gathered together my ribbons, Shouted, and flung them, outspread, on the straining necks of my cattle; Screamed at the top of my voice, and lashed the air in my frenzy, While down the Geiger Grade, on THREE wheels, the vehicle thundered.

"Speed was our only chance, when again came the ominous rattle: Crack, and another wheel slipped away, and was lost in the darkness.

TWO only now were left; yet such was our fearful momentum, Upright, erect, and sustained on TWO wheels, the vehicle thundered.

"As some huge boulder, unloosed from its rocky shelf on the mountain, Drives before it the hare and the timorous squirrel, far leaping, So down the Geiger Grade rushed the Pioneer coach, and before it Leaped the wild horses, and shrieked in advance of the danger impending.