1842

He was dealt three tens, a deuce and a seven. He took two cards and won the pot with four tens, ace kicker. He was one happy 18 year old pilgrim. His new estate included $37 in coin, $61 in dust, a broken gold pocket watch, 50 feet of good jute rope, three 20-pound sacks of crushed corn, and five donkeys - three jacks and two jennies. The biggest loser, a donkey seller/muleteer, was a dried up, wrinkled, brown man in funny clothes. Hailing from the Florida country, he had made his way somehow to the digs about a month ago. Norman figured out enough of his broken English to learn that he and his brother had brought 15 mules through Savannah to Georgia's gold country. Ten had been sold. His older brother had been sick on the trail from the coast, got worse and had died three days ago. He had buried his brother, said a prayer over his grave and got drunk, playing cards off and on during his grief drunk. With a busted heart and in his broken tongue the beaten little foreigner said to Norman as he patted the smallest donkey, "Go with God, Senor. You be good - them. You find good horse mare, good stud horse, breed them and make fine mules, good strong mules." The former owner helped Norman make a lead line, communicating with chopped words and acting out. He showed him how to secure the donkeys in a line, one after another. The largest animal was in the lead and one of the jennies in the rear.