American fiction -- 19th century; California -- Fiction; Western stories
He was losing time; he hurriedly put the book in his pocket,
and once more spurred forward on his road.
CHAPTER VII
The exterior of Aladdin's Palace, familiar as it already was to
Carroll, struck him that afternoon as looking more than usually unreal,
ephemeral, and unsubstantial. The Moorish arches, of the thinnest
white pine; the arabesque screens and lattices that looked as if made
of pierced cardboard; the golden minarets that seemed to be glued to
the shell-like towers, and the hollow battlements that visibly warped
and cracked in the fierce sunlight,--all appeared more than ever like a
theatrical scene that might sink through the ground, or vanish on
either side to the sound of the prompter's whistle. Recalling
Raymond's cynical insinuations, he could not help fancying that the
house had been built by a conscientious genie with a view to the
possibility of the lamp and the ring passing, with other effects, into
the hands of the sheriff.
Nevertheless, the servant who took Captain Carroll's horse summoned
another domestic, who preceded him into a small waiting-room off the
gorgeous central hall, which looked not unlike the private bar-room of
a first-class hotel, and presented him with a sherry cobbler. It was a
peculiarity of Aladdin's Palace that the host seldom did the honors of
his own house, but usually deputed the task to some friend, and
generally the last new-comer. Carroll was consequently not surprised
when he was presently joined by an utter stranger, who again pressed
upon him the refreshment he had just declined. "You see," said the
transitory host, "I'm a stranger myself here, and haven't got the ways
of the regular customers; but call for anything you like, and I'll see
it got for you. Jim" (the actual Christian name of Aladdin) "is
headin' a party through the stables. Would you like to join 'em--they
ain't more than half through now--or will you come right to the
billiard-room--the latest thing out in stained glass and iron--ez
pretty as fresh paint? or will you meander along to the bridal suite,
and see the bamboo and silver dressing-room, and the white satin and
crystal bed that cost fifteen thousand dollars as it stands. Or," he
added, confidentially, "would you like to cut the whole cussed thing,
and I'll get out Jim's 2.32 trotter and his spider-legged buggy and
we'll take a spin over to the Springs afore dinner?" It was, however,
more convenient to Carroll's purpose to conceal his familiarity with
the Aladdin treasures, and to politely offer to follow his guide
through the house. "I reckon Jim's pretty busy just now," continued
the stranger; "what with old Doc West going under so suddent, just ez
he'd got things boomin' with that railroad and his manufactory company.
The stocks went down to nothing this morning; and, 'twixt you and me,
the boys say," he added, mysteriously sinking his voice, "it was jest
the tightest squeeze there whether there wouldn't be a general burst-up
all round.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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