Poker Jim, Gentleman, and Other Tales and Sketches

by G. Frank Lydston

“Sometimes, when the skies had been unkind and the Sun Father had scorched the delicate leaves and fragrant blossoms and shrivelled the tender stalks of the young maize for many days, the wise and thoughtful sachem brought forth the magic red pipe he had fashioned in the far off land of the fierce Dacotahs. As he silently sat and smoked the sweetly pungent killikinnic, the billowy clouds of sweet incense were gently wafted to the sapphire skies and kissed them, so tenderly and lovingly that they wept for very joy. And those blissful tears fell as a soothing, gentle rain upon the drooping maize, and trees and flowers, until they raised their fainting, almost dying heads in joy and gladness. Then the vast choirs of brilliant-hued singing birds awoke once more the musical echoes of the sighing forest, and sweetly sang the praises, of the mighty Tu-toch-a-nu-lah, bravest and most tender-hearted of his race—greatest of all the proud and haughty Yosemite.

“When the drought was over and the parched and thirsty soil was once more moist, the fragrant smoke billows of the magic pipe floated blithely, airily up to the fiercely glaring sun and brought down millions of warm, yet softened rays through the clear blue air that soon ripened the luxuriant crops into gold—gold that the joyful women should gather with singing and merry making in the harvest-time to be.

“When the mighty sachem was happy, and laughed, the Yosemite danced and sparkled in the sunlight as though rejoicing with him, its winding way rippling into pleasant, cheery smiles. When he sighed, the soughing wind wailed mournfully through the cone-laden boughs of the tall bread pines, or howled dismally down the dark and gloomy canyons like the spirit of some tortured brave. When he spake, his voice was sometimes like the soft, gentle cooing of the ring-dove, at others like the deep, sonorous voice of the cataract. But when he raging smote to death the giant grizzly, or fiercely tore the scalp lock from the skull of an enemy, his fearful war whoop rang out among the crags and gorges of the Sierras like the loud mutterings of the thunder, aye, like the awful rumbling and crashing of the earthquake.

“None there was in his tribe so learned as Tu-toch-a-nu-lah, for the smoke of his pipe oft brought him wonderful visions that the eye of none other ever saw. Through the blue, odorous haze of the burning killikinnic the Manitou had many a time spoken words of wisdom to his favorite child.

“And the noble sachem had travelled much. The soft tread of his moccasined feet had been felt by all the land from Oregon to the gulf, north and south, and from the Father of Waters to the blue Pacific, east and west. The broad prints of his snow shoes were upon the eternal snows of every land in the ice bound north. He had been in the far off Northland where, on a throne of glittering ice, robed in a mantle of ermine frost, sits the Queen of the Heavens. And he had seen crouching at her feet the great White Rabbit—with his own eyes had he seen it. There he had walked through the valley of peace and plenty, in the land where the year is but a night and a day. He had passed reverently among the graves of his ancestors, who lay there sleeping beneath the green mantle that the eternal snows could not chill. He had communed with that sleeping race of giant redmen and had heard them whisper of the day when time shall be no more, when the enemies of his race shall have passed and those mighty warriors shall arise to claim their long lost birthright.

“And Tu-toch-a-nu-lah knew the message of the north wind as it whistled among the mountains. To him spake the giant redwoods, as they battled with the gales of winter. And they spake of battles won in other days, for within those forest monarchs were imprisoned the souls of his forefathers, those red kings of aforetime. To him sang the robin in the springtime, and he heard and understood the twitter of the snowbird, in the days when Winter had laid his frosty fingers upon the verdant valley. For him the pines and cedars gave forth their balmy breath and fragrant balsam. He was Nature’s best beloved child and his mother was kind to the sachem.

“He it was who taught the boys of his tribe to catch the fish with hooks of bone in summer, and to kill them with the spear through the icy coverings of the streams in winter. ’Twas he who taught them how to make the bow and the barbed and feathered ashen shafts that should slay the grizzly and their foes among the redmen. And when the bows and shafts were done ’twas Tu-toch-a-nu-lah who led them into the sombre, fragrant woods and taught them to stalk and slay the deer. He was the children’s best friend and wisest counsellor.

“Yes, he was a brave and mighty warrior, and a wise one.

“Tender hearted and loving though he was, the great heart of Tu-toch-a-nu-lah had never been touched, be it ever so lightly, by love of woman. Strong and tireless in the chase, brave in battle, wiser than the wisest at the council fires of his people, kind and loving to all, the mighty warrior knew not yet the burning, all consuming glow of the most sacred fire that burns on human altars—he knew not the fire of passion. Of all the dark-eyed maidens and comely squaws of his tribe, there was none whose bright and longing eyes had ever aroused in his bosom the glorious and all-responsive thrill that might have bid her hope. Gaze upon him as yearningly and tenderly as she might, there was not one who could say that she was the woman whom fate had set apart for him.

“No, the handsome sachem had never known the love of woman—and yet the star of human destiny was ever hovering over his beloved head, and was soon to illumine with its fiery darts the utmost depth of the still, dark waters of romance that lay hidden within his soul.