“I have got together two thousand three hundred dollars,” said one. “I came out here to make up a pile of four thousand. If I had that, I’d go home.”
“I have done nearly as well,” said the other; “I have about two thousand; and if I had what we have both got, I’d go home; and never touch pick or shovel again.”
“Ah! so would I,” sighed the first.
“Well, then,” challenged his old shipmate, “I’ll tell you what we can do. We both want to go back home, with not less than four thousand dollars. We need not both be disappointed. One of us can go; and let the other stay. I’ll cut a pack of cards with you; and the one who cuts highest, shall take four thousand dollars, and go home. The odd two or three hundred will be enough, to carry the loser back to the diggings. What say you, old hoss?”
This proposal was instantly accepted. The man, who had made it, lost his two thousand dollars; and next morning he handed the money over to his more fortunate friend, shook hands with him, and started back for the diggings!
This story may seem improbable, to those who have never been in California in its best days; but I can vouch for its truth.
After parting with Farrell, I seemed destined to witness a variety of incidents on that same evening; and of both characters—comic and tragical.
Shortly after passing the crowd, who had assisted at the dispute of the two miners, I came in sight of another concourse of people—in the middle of which appeared two or three policemen. They were gathered around the shaft of an abandoned claim. I went up to see what the excitement was about; and learnt, that a Chinaman had been found suspended in the shaft.
The Celestial had committed suicide, by hanging himself; and the plan he had adopted for terminating his existence, seemed, from its ingenuity, to have met with as much admiration from this crowd, as had been bestowed by the other one on the mode of settling their dispute, which had been adopted by the two diggers.
The Chinaman, knowing that the shaft was a deep one, had placed a large log of wood across the top of it. To the middle of this he had tied the end of a rope about fifteen feet long. The other end he had fastened, loop fashion, around his neck; and then jumped down the shaft. No Jack Ketch could have performed the operation for him, in a more effectual manner.