Selected Stories of Bret Harte | Page 7

been father and
mother to him! Don't you," he would add, apostrophizing the helpless
bundle before him, "never go back on us."
By the time he was a month old the necessity of giving him a name
became apparent. He had generally been known as "The Kid,"
"Stumpy's Boy," "The Coyote" (an allusion to his vocal powers), and
even by Kentuck's endearing diminutive of "The damned little cuss."
But these were felt to be vague and unsatisfactory, and were at last
dismissed under another influence. Gamblers and adventurers are

generally superstitious, and Oakhurst one day declared that the baby
had brought "the luck" to Roaring Camp. It was certain that of late they
had been successful. "Luck" was the name agreed upon, with the prefix
of Tommy for greater convenience. No allusion was made to the
mother, and the father was unknown. "It's better," said the
philosophical Oakhurst, "to take a fresh deal all round. Call him Luck,
and start him fair." A day was accordingly set apart for the christening.
What was meant by this ceremony the reader may imagine who has
already gathered some idea of the reckless irreverence of Roaring
Camp. The master of ceremonies was one "Boston," a noted wag, and
the occasion seemed to promise the greatest facetiousness. This
ingenious satirist had spent two days in preparing a burlesque of the
Church service, with pointed local allusions. The choir was properly
trained, and Sandy Tipton was to stand godfather. But after the
procession had marched to the grove with music and banners, and the
child had been deposited before a mock altar, Stumpy stepped before
the expectant crowd. "It ain't my style to spoil fun, boys," said the little
man, stoutly eyeing the faces around him," but it strikes me that this
thing ain't exactly on the squar. It's playing it pretty low down on this
yer baby to ring in fun on him that he ain't goin' to understand. And ef
there's goin' to be any godfathers round, I'd like to see who's got any
better rights than me." A silence followed Stumpy's speech. To the
credit of all humorists be it said that the first man to acknowledge its
justice was the satirist thus stopped of his fun. "But," said Stumpy,
quickly following up his advantage, "we're here for a christening, and
we'll have it. I proclaim you Thomas Luck, according to the laws of the
United States and the State of California, so help me God." It was the
first time that the name of the Deity had been otherwise uttered than
profanely in the camp. The form of christening was perhaps even more
ludicrous than the satirist had conceived; but strangely enough, nobody
saw it and nobody laughed. "Tommy" was christened as seriously as he
would have been under a Christian roof and cried and was comforted in
as orthodox fashion.
And so the work of regeneration began in Roaring Camp. Almost
imperceptibly a change came over the settlement. The cabin assigned to
"Tommy Luck"--or "The Luck," as he was more frequently called--first

showed signs of improvement. It was kept scrupulously clean and
whitewashed. Then it was boarded, clothed, and papered. The rose
wood cradle, packed eighty miles by mule, had, in Stumpy's way of
putting it, "sorter killed the rest of the furniture." So the rehabilitation
of the cabin became a necessity. The men who were in the habit of
lounging in at Stumpy's to see "how 'The Luck' got on" seemed to
appreciate the change, and in self-defense the rival establishment of
"Tuttle's grocery" bestirred itself and imported a carpet and mirrors.
The reflections of the latter on the appearance of Roaring Camp tended
to produce stricter habits of personal cleanliness. Again Stumpy
imposed a kind of quarantine upon those who aspired to the honor and
privilege of holding The Luck. It was a cruel mortification to
Kentuck--who, in the carelessness of a large nature and the habits of
frontier life, had begun to regard all garments as a second cuticle,
which, like a snake's, only sloughed off through decay--to be debarred
this privilege from certain prudential reasons. Yet such was the subtle
influence of innovation that he thereafter appeared regularly every
afternoon in a clean shirt and face still shining from his ablutions. Nor
were moral and social sanitary laws neglected. "Tommy," who was
supposed to spend his whole existence in a persistent attempt to repose,
must not be disturbed by noise. The shouting and yelling, which had
gained the camp its infelicitous title, were not permitted within hearing
distance of Stumpy's. The men conversed in whispers or smoked with
Indian gravity. Profanity was tacitly given up in these sacred precincts,
and throughout the camp a popular form of expletive, known as "D--n
the luck!" and "Curse the luck!" was