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wooded foothills。 It was the great flood of '54。 In its awe…
inspiring completeness it might have seemed to him the primeval
Deluge。
As his frail raft swept under a cottonwood he caught at one of the
overhanging limbs； and； working his way desperately along the
bough； at last reached a secure position in the fork of the tree。
Here he was for the moment safe。 But the devastation viewed from
this height was only the more appalling。 Every sign of his
clearing； all evidence of his past year's industry； had
disappeared。 He was now conscious for the first time of the lowing
of the few cattle he had kept as； huddled together on a slight
eminence； they one by one slipped over struggling into the flood。
The shining bodies of his dead horses rolled by him as he gazed。
The lower…lying limbs of the sycamore near him were bending with
the burden of the lighter articles from his overturned wagon and
cabin which they had caught and retained； and a rake was securely
lodged in a bough。 The habitual solitude of his locality was now
strangely invaded by drifting sheds； agricultural implements； and
fence rails from unknown and remote neighbors； and he could faintly
hear the far…off calling of some unhappy farmer adrift upon a spar
of his wrecked and shattered house。 When day broke he was cold and
hungry。
Hours passed in hopeless monotony； with no slackening or diminution
of the waters。 Even the drifts became less； and a vacant sea at
last spread before him on which nothing moved。 An awful silence
impressed him。 In the afternoon rain again began to fall on this
gray； nebulous expanse； until the whole world seemed made of
aqueous vapor。 He had but one idea nowthe coming of the evening
boat； and he would reserve his strength to swim to it。 He did not
know until later that it could no longer follow the old channel of
the river； and passed far beyond his sight and hearing。 With his
disappointment and exposure that night came a return of his old
fever。 His limbs were alternately racked with pain or benumbed and
lifeless。 He could scarcely retain his positionat times he
scarcely cared toand speculated upon ending his sufferings by a
quick plunge downward。 In other moments of lucid misery he was
conscious of having wandered in his mind； of having seen the dead
face of the murdered sheriff； washed out of his shallow grave by
the flood； staring at him from the water； to this was added the
hallucination of noises。 He heard voices； his own name called by a
voice he knewCaptain Jack's！
Suddenly he started； but in that fatal movement lost his balance
and plunged downward。 But before the water closed above his head
he had had a cruel glimpse of help near him； of a flashing light
of the black hull of a tug not many yards awayof moving figures
the sensation of a sudden plunge following his own； the grip of a
strong hand upon his collar； andunconsciousness！
When he came to he was being lifted in a boat from the tug and
rowed through the deserted streets of a large city； until he was
taken in through the second…story window of a half…submerged hotel
and cared for。 But all his questions yielded only the information
that the tuga privately procured one； not belonging to the Public
Relief Associationhad been dispatched for him with special
directions； by a man who acted as one of the crew； and who was the
one who had plunged in for him at the last moment。 The man had
left the boat at Stockton。 There was nothing more？ Yes！he had
left a letter。 Morse seized it feverishly。 It contained only a
few lines：
We are quits now。 You are all right。 I have saved YOU from
drowning； and shifted the curse to my own shoulders。 Good…by。
CAPTAIN JACK。
The astounded man attempted to riseto utter an exclamationbut
fell back； unconscious。
Weeks passed before he was able to leave his bedand then only as
an impoverished and physically shattered man。 He had no means to
restock the farm left bare by the subsiding water。 A kindly train…
packer offered him a situation as muleteer in a pack train going to
the mountainsfor he knew tracks and passes and could ride。 The
mountains gave him back a little of the vigor he had lost in the
river valley； but none of its dreams and ambitions。 One day； while
tracking a lost mule； he stopped to slake his thirst in a
waterholeall that the summer had left of a lonely mountain
torrent。 Enlarging the hole to give drink to his beast also； he
was obliged to dislodge and throw out with the red soil some bits
of honeycomb rock； which were so queer…looking and so heavy as to
attract his attention。 Two of the largest he took back to camp
with him。 They were gold！ From the locality he took out a
fortune。 Nobody wondered。 To the Californian's superstition it
was perfectly natural。 It was 〃nigger luck〃the luck of the
stupid； the ignorant； the inexperienced； the nonseekerthe irony
of the gods！
But the simple； bucolic nature that had sustained itself against
temptation with patient industry and lonely self…concentration
succumbed to rapidly acquired wealth。 So it chanced that one day；
with a crowd of excitement…loving spendthrifts and companions； he
found himself on the outskirts of a lawless mountain town。 An
eager； frantic crowd had already assembled therea desperado was
to be lynched！ Pushing his way through the crowd for a nearer view
of the exciting spectacle； the changed and reckless Morse was
stopped by armed men only at the foot of a cart； which upheld a
quiet； determined man； who； with a rope around his neck； was
scornfully surveying the mob； that held the other end of the rope
drawn across the limb of a tree above him。 The eyes of the doomed
man caught those of Morsehis expression changeda kindly smile
lit his facehe bowed his proud head for the first time； with an
easy gesture of farewell。
And then； with a cry； Morse threw himself upon the nearest armed
guard； and a fierce struggle began。 He had overpowered one
adversary and seized another in his hopeless fight toward the cart
when the half…astonished crowd felt that something must be done。
It was done with a sharp report； the upward curl of smoke and the
falling back of the guard as Morse staggered forward FREEwith a
bullet in his heart。 Yet even then he did not fall until he
reached the cart； when he lapsed forward； dead； with his arms
outstretched and his head at the doomed man's feet。
There was something so supreme and all…powerful in this hopeless
act of devotion that the heart of the multitude thrilled and then
recoiled aghast at its work； and a single word or a gesture from
the doomed man himself would have set him free。 But they sayand
it is credibly recordedthat as Captain Jack Despard looked down
upon the hopeless sacrifice at his feet his eyes blazed； and he
flung upon the crowd a curse so awful and sweeping that； hardened
as they were； their blood ran cold； and then leaped furio