The following morning I went down before even Firm was out-of-doors, under some touch, perhaps, of natural desire to know things. The stream was as pure and bright as ever, hastening down its gravel-path of fine granite just as usual, except that it had more volume and a stronger sense of freshness. Only the bent of the grasses and the swath of the pendulous twigs down stream remained to show that there must have been some violence quite lately.
All Mr. Gundrys strengthening piles and shores were as firm as need be, and the clear blue water played around them as if they were no constraint to it. And none but a practiced eye could see that the great wheel had been wounded, being undershot, and lifted now above the power of the current, according to the fine old plan of locking the door when the horse is gone.
When I was looking up and wondering where to find the mischief, Martin, the foreman, came out and crossed the plank, with his mouth full of breakfast.
Show me, I said, with an air, perhaps, of very young importance, where and what the damage is. Is there any strain to the iron-work?
Lor a mercy, young missus! he answered, gruffly, being by no means a polished man, where did you ever hear of ironwork? Needles and pins is enough for you. Now dont you go and make no mischief.
I have no idea what you mean, I answered. If you have been careless, that is no concern of mine.
Careless, indeed! And the way I works, when others is a-snorin in their beds! I might just as well do nort, every bit, and get more thanks and better wages. Thats the way of the world all over. Come Saturday week, I shall better myself.
But if its the way of the world all over, how will you better yourself, unless you go out of the world altogether! I put this question to Martin with the earnest simplicity of the young, meaning no kind of sarcasm, but knowing that scarcely a week went by without his threatening to better himself. And they said that he had done so for seven years or more.
Dont you be too sharp, he replied, with a grim smile, partly at himself, perhaps. If half as I heard about you is true, youll want all your sharpness for yourself, Miss Remy. And the Britishers are worse than we be.
Well, Martin, I am sure you would help me, I said, if you saw any person injuring me. But what is it I am not to tell your master?
My master, indeed! Well, you need not tell old Gundry any thing about what you have seen. It might lead to hard words; and hard words are not the style of thing I put up with. If any man tries hard words with me, I knocks him down, up sticks, and makes tracks.
I could not help smiling at the poor mans talk. Sawyer Gundry could have taken him with one hand and tossed him over the undershot wheel.
You forget that I have not seen any thing, I said, and understand nothing but needles and pins. But, for fear of doing any harm, I will not even say that I have been down here, unless I am asked about it.
Miss Remy, you are a good girl, and you shall have the mill some day. Lord, dont your little great eyes see the job they are a-doin of? The finest stroke in all Californy, when the stubborn old chap takes to quartz-crushing.
All this was beyond me, and I told him so, and we parted good friends, while he shook his long head and went home to feed many pappooses. For the strangest thing of all things was, though I never at that time thought of it, that there was not any one about this place whom any one could help liking. Martin took as long as any body to be liked, until one understood him; but after that he was one of the best, in many ways that can not be described. Also there was a pair of negroes, simply and sweetly delightful. They worked all day and they sang all night, though I had not the pleasure of hearing them; and the more Suan Isco despised thembecause they were black, and she was only brownthe more they made up to her, not at all because she governed the supply of victuals. It was childish to have such ideas, though Suan herself could never get rid of them. The truth, as I came to know afterward, was that a large, free-hearted, and determined man was at the head of every thing. Martin was the only one who ever grumbled, and he had established a long right to do so by never himself being grumbled at.
Ill be bound that poor fellow is in a sad way, Mr. Gundry said at breakfast-time. He knows how much he is to blame, and I fear that he wont eat a bit for the day. Martin is a most conscientious man. He will offer to give up his berth, although it would be his simple ruin.
I was wise enough not to say a word, though Firm looked at me keenly. He knew that I had been down at the mill, and expected me to say something.
We all must have our little mistakes, continued Sawyer Gundry; but I never like to push a man when he feels it. I shall not say a syllable to Martin; and, Ephraim, you will do the like. When a fellow sticks well to his work like Martin, never blame him for a mere accident.
Firm, according to his habit, made no answer when he did not quite agree. In talking with his own age he might have argued, but he did not argue with his grandfather.
I shall just go down and put it right myself. Martin is a poor hand at repairing. Firm, you go up the gulch, and see if the fresh has hurt the hurdles. Missy, you may come with me, if you please, and sketch me at work in the mill-wheel. You have drawn that wheel such a sight of times, you must know every feather of it better than the man who made it.
Uncle Sam, you are too bad, I said. I have never got it right, and I never shall.
I did not dare as yet to think what really proved to be true in the endthat I could not draw the wheel correctly because itself was incorrect. In spite of all Mr. Gundrys skill and labor and ingenuity, the wheel was no true circle. The error began in the hub itself, and increased, of course, with the distance; but still it worked very well, like many other things that are not perfect.
Having no idea of this as yet, and doubting nothing except my own perception of perspective, I sat down once more in my favorite spot, and waited for the master to appear as an active figure in the midst of it. The air was particularly bright and clear, even for that pure climate, and I could even see the blue-winged flies darting in and out of the oozy floats. But half-way up the mountains a white cloud was hanging, a cloud that kept on changing shape. I only observed it as a thing to put in for my background, because I was fond of trying to tone and touch up my sketches with French chalks.
Presently I heard a harsh metallic sound and creaking of machinery. The bites, or clamps, or whatever they are called, were being put on, to keep the wheel from revolving with the Sawyers weight. Martin, the foreman, was grumbling and growling, according to his habit, and peering through the slot, or channel of stone, in which the axle worked, and the cheery voice of Mr. Gundry was putting down his objections. Being much too large to pass through the slot, Mr. Gundry came round the corner of the building, with a heavy leathern bag of tools strapped round his neck, and his canvas breeches girt above his knees. But the foreman staid inside to hand him the needful material into the wheel.
The Sawyer waded merrily down the shallow blue water, for he was always like a boy when he was at work, and he waved his little skull-cap to me, and swung himself up into the wheel, as if he were nearer seventeen than seventy. And presently I could only see his legs and arms as he fell to work. Therefore I also fell to work, with my best attempts at penciling, having been carefully taught enough of drawing to know that I could not draw. And perhaps I caught from the old mans presence and the sound of his activity that strong desire to do my best which he seemed to impart to every one.