The Outcasts of Poker Flat Summary & Analysis

From the outset, the story is concerned with morality and immorality, a dichotomy that Harte will complicate as he unveils his main characters. This passage also begins to flesh out the settlement of Poker Flat and the American Old West more broadly. The Sabbath is a day of rest in Judaism and Christianity, celebrated on Saturdays and Sundays, respectively. As it’s “unaccustomed to Sabbath influences”—meaning religion more broadly, and a day of rest specifically—it seems that Poker Flat is perhaps a noisy, unstructured, rowdy place.

Oakhurst is set apart from the masses and antagonized, as he muses that the town’s residents are likely out to get him. However, Oakhurst is characterized as an exceedingly calm man who is accepting of his circumstances—even his sense that the town is “after” him isn’t enough to make him feel panicked.

Poker Flat is in a particularly vulnerable state, nursing the wounds of financial and personal loss. This passage begins to complicate what constitutes as morality versus immorality, as the residents who act virtuously do so with a similar measure of unruliness and savage energy as those who are implied to be immoral. This casts doubt on how Poker Flat measures morality and whether those it deems “improper” are worthy of that title and accompanying punishment. The residents’ hard-edged attitudes toward “improper persons” also further characterize the Old West as a dangerous, unforgiving place.

The women who are banished are heavily implied to be prostitutes by their “impropriety,” or indecent behavior, that is also associated with a profession. That the committee members are deeply biased further suggests that the town’s moral compass is not to be trusted. The character of Jim Wheeler is likely a subtle nod to his long-time friend Mark Twain’s “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County,” whose main characters are Jim Smiley and Simon Wheeler. Twain’s story is also about gambling, as a stranger dishonestly wins a bet and takes off with the money. The stranger is referred to as such throughout the story, making it particularly striking that Harte’s Jim Wheeler vehemently deems Oakhurst “an entire stranger.”

Oakhurst’s profession as a gambler informs his broader worldview. In the context of Oakhurst’s banishment, the secret committee has a similar role to a card dealer who oversees players and makes sure they aren’t cheating—the most powerful men in Poker Flat have the authority and clout to pass harsh moral judgments on their peers. That Oakhurst reacts with “philosophic calmness” begins to align him with Stoicism, a school of philosophy that centers around self-control, acceptance of the present moment, and avoidance and distrust of extreme emotion.

Uncle Billy’s status as a “suspected sluice-robber” orients the story within the Gold Rush era. A sluice is a metal contraption that filters out water and dirt, leaving behind gold, so this passage implies that Uncle Billy may have been prone to stealing the fruits of other people’s labor. That he’s only “suspected” of the theft implies that he’s gotten away with stealing gold in the past, painting the Old West as a lawless free-for-all. The fact that he’s being punished so harshly on the basis of suspicion (plus his drunkenness, which doesn’t seem to be debated) simultaneously suggests that the Old West is harsh, authoritarian, and unforgiving.

In ancient Iran, soldiers from the Parthian Empire developed a distinctive and highly effective battle technique: in combat, the Parthians would suddenly run away, as if fleeing in terror. Once the enemy was certain that the Parthians were retreating, the Parthians would suddenly turn around and shoot them in a merciless surprise attack. That Uncle Billy delivers “a Parthian volley of expletives” suggests two things. First, it shows that, like Mother Shipton, Uncle Billy has a crude vocabulary that seems to match his unrefined reputation. Second, it foreshadows a similarly fatal surprise attack, in which Uncle Billy will be at the center.

The Old West is a thoroughly dangerous place, as the outcasts are forced to leave one life-threatening danger (the unforgiving residents of Poker Flat, who have made it clear that the outcasts will be killed if they return) for another, the similarly rugged and hostile natural world.

Even though the landscape of the Old West can be dangerous, it is also beautiful and captivating, seen here with the “wooded amphitheater” where the group stops to rest. However, Oakhurst’s concerns about stopping speak to the tension between nature’s beauty and sheer power that runs throughout the story. Once again, Oakhurst is the clear voice of reason in the group—he is calm but firm, and he draws on his experience as a gambler to make sense of the situation. Even though the story characterized him earlier as someone who is wholly accepting of fate, his objections in this passage suggest that he draws a line between taking action when one can, and accepting one’s circumstances when it’s the only option left. This is also a tension that stretches until the very end of the story, as Harte portrays Oakhurst as alternately heroic and passive, strong and weak.

That Oakhurst abstains from alcohol speaks to the complexity of his character. He may have his vices—namely, gambling—but he’s also prudent and wise. Even though Poker Flat branded him as immoral by throwing him in with the other outcasts, it seems that Oakhurst is perhaps not so immoral after all. This passage also shows the emotional depth of Oakhurst’s character. While he’s usually on the fringes of the group, silently looking on with an unreadable expression, this moment reveals that he’s actually a deeply lonely man who seems to long for a sense of community and belonging. He notes that his penchant for gambling makes him a “pariah,” meaning someone who is rejected from society. However, several members of Poker Flat’s secret committee gambled against Oakhurst, yet those people weren’t cast out of Poker Flat.

Even though Oakhurst is accustomed to social isolation as a gambler, his distance from society—and thus from the prospect of gambling—is beginning to wear on him. The narrator interjects in this passage, guessing that Oakhurst probably isn’t considering leaving his fellow outcasts behind. This speculation furthers the idea that Oakhurst isn’t some morally reprehensible criminal—he is principled and loyal, even if his fellow outcasts haven’t done anything to earn such loyalty from him.

The money that Oakhurst won from Tom is no small fortune—in the late 1840s, $40 would have had the same purchasing power as over $1,200 in 2019’s currency. While Oakhurst could have gone on his way with his pockets lined handsomely with Tom’s money, he doesn’t. Oakhurst not only returns Tom’s money but also warns him to never gamble again, saving Tom from getting himself into a similar situation in the future. Once again, Oakhurst is portrayed as a kind and ethical man, emphasizing that he doesn’t deserve his exile sentence.

Tom is the very picture of bubbly, boyish innocence and enthusiasm, making him a foil for the serious, strong, and silent Oakhurst who has weathered many hardships. Similarly, Piney is immediately characterized as childlike, meek, and pure, setting her apart from the two other women—Mother Shipton and the Duchess, both prostitutes—in the group.

The tension between nature’s beauty and power reappears here, as Tom naively positions their time in the mountains as a jaunty camping trip among friends rather than a fight for survival. In mistaking the Duchess for Oakhurst’s wife, Tom further reveals his innocence and naivete; he seems to assume that his hero, Oakhurst, would have a wife rather than be an outcast, and he doesn’t fathom that the Duchess might be a prostitute.

Uncle Billy is thoroughly volatile and increasingly unhinged in this passage. It’s reasonable to assume that, with his stained reputation, crude sense of humor, and abrasive vocabulary, Uncle Billy’s “jocular” idea is probably not as playful as he might think. This passage also makes it clear that the group is beginning to bond, but Uncle Billy wants no part in it.

Harte’s story is brimming with epithets, like “the frail Duchess” and “the malevolent Mother Shipton.” This is fitting, given that Homer’s the Iliad—itself famously filled with epithets—will appear later in the story. Through the use of these epithets—and the later references to Homer—Harte fleshes out his characters and imbues his story with a kind of mythological quality and sense of impending fate. This passage also brings up the idea of morality, as Piney and Tom’s kiss seems to awe and perhaps inspire the two prostitutes.

Oakhurst quickly springs into action, but in the next moment he becomes calm, accepting, and seemingly passive again, raising the question of whether he is fighting hard enough against his circumstances. Meanwhile, the Old West is once again portrayed as a dangerous place—Uncle Billy’s betrayal suggests that no one can be trusted, and that it is “every man for himself” (as the saying goes), while the freshly fallen snow begins to hint at nature’s power and capacity for destruction. On another note, the description of the Duchess and Mother Shipton as “celestial guardians,” given their proximity to Piney, foreshadows the way that she will have a redemptive, purifying effect on them.

Although Oakhurst does lie and strategically omit information from Piney and Tom, he does so to protect them. Oakhurst’s compassionate actions speak to the story’s overarching idea that people can’t be neatly shelved as moral or immoral—at least for the most part, as Uncle Billy, however, seems even more immoral than before in light of his theft. No longer simply stealing gold from other people’s sluices, Uncle Billy commits a far worse crime in stealing the group’s mules. With snow on the ground and no mules to travel on, the group is stranded, possibly left to die in the mountains, and Uncle Billy is responsible.

Oakhurst and Tom again appear as one another’s foils, as Tom is lighthearted and fails to grasp the gravity of the situation, while Oakhurst is practical and prudent, searching for the trail and hiding the group’s alcohol. In hiding the whiskey, Oakhurst seems to be trying to prevent any more mishaps (readers may recall that Uncle Billy’s “jocular” idea of stealing the mules came to him when he was drunk) while also encouraging the group to be levelheaded and serious. Nonetheless, the other members of the party seem to treat their situation as a delightful adventure, still unaware of how brutal the landscape of the Old West can be.

The tension between immorality and morality rises to the forefront of the story here, as there is a stark difference between how Tom and Piney sing the hymn versus how the others do. The Covenanters were a Scottish Presbyterian group who called for separation from the Church of England—they believed that Jesus was the head of the Church, not the king. Although the song the characters sing here is an early American spiritual, not a Covenanter battle cry, the song carries a similar “defiant” sentiment, which is why the story brands it as a “Covenanter’s swing.” Having already gone against the social and moral grain of Poker Flat in various ways, it’s fitting that this “defiant tone” is appealing to the outcasts.

While Harte was known in his time for being a prominent anti-racist writer, one of his works—the satirical poem “Plain Language from Truthful James,” also known as “The Heathen Chinee”—unintentionally perpetuated racism directed at Chinese immigrants in the West rather than effectively criticizing it. While Harte’s “The Outcasts of Poker Flat” doesn’t mention race much, Oakhurst’s use of the n-word in this passage feels similarly loaded with confused intent: is Harte using Oakhurst, the story’s hero and protagonist, to criticize the glaring racism and race inequality of 1850s America, or is it reflective of Harte’s own biases? On another note, Oakhurst’s speech shows that he organizes his life and worldview around luck, or fate.

Once again, the landscape of the Old West is both beautiful and hostile, gentle and destructive. The outcasts are described as “still [clinging]” to survival, which implies that the outcome of their journey won’t be a good one. The historical Mother Shipton was a 15th-century prophetess who, in time, turned into a legendary figure known for predicting the Second Coming of Christ and the end of the world. (In actuality, it seems that the real Mother Shipton’s predictions were all small-scale, regional ones.) That Harte’s Mother Shipton goes by this name associates her with the historical Mother Shipton’s foresight. In looking out at Poker Flat and cursing it vehemently, then, it seems that Mother Shipton is aware that her own end will be a tragic one.

Tom is referring to poet Alexander Pope’s neo-classical translation of Homer’s the Iliad, which Pope released between 1715 and 1720 in four installments. The Iliad recounts the final leg of the Trojan War and how Achilles slayed Hector. This it seems that Tom plans to use a story of tragedy and death—set in a time and place just as brutal and dangerous as the Old West—to distract the other group members from what seems to be their own impending tragic deaths.

Tom’s Old West rehashing of Homer’s epic seems to mythologize the Old West. Tom mixes Greek myth with elements of the Western landscape, the result of which is an epic that imbues nature with a godlike strength and power. That the character of Achilles resonates with Oakhurst seems fitting—they’re both strong, heroic leaders—but readers may be aware that although Homer doesn’t recount Achilles’ s death in the Iliad, Achilles does, in fact, die at the end of the Trojan War. This infuses elements of fate and foreboding in Harte’s story, suggesting that Oakhurst’s life may also quietly come to an end after all the action has played out.

Things are looking increasingly bleak for the group. Oakhurst resigns himself “to the losing game before him,” suggesting that he believes he’s fated to die in the mountains. Though perhaps there’s nothing he can do about his situation right now—he’s surrounded by towering walls of snow—it still seems striking that he “coolly” accepts his death. Meanwhile, the Duchess finds joy in caring for Piney, which begins to show the transformative effect she has on the women in the group.

Once a coarse, abrasive, sour woman, Mother Shipton reveals herself in this passage to be an extraordinarily kind and loving woman, even to the point of self-sacrifice. Because of Mother Shipton’s affection for Piney, the woman dies a martyr rather than a sinner—Piney’s friendship allows Mother Shipton to be more than just a prostitute and an outcast. Like many of the other outcasts, there is more to Mother Shipton that meets the eye, and her final good deed ensures that she resists easy categorization as moral or immoral.

While the group has thus far been able to pretend that they’re merely on a camping trip or an adventure in the woods, Mother Shipton’s death seems to snap everyone out of their optimistic delusions. Oakhurst’s ability to whip up a pair of homemade snowshoes, coupled with the seriousness and urgency of his plea to Tom, shows that Oakhurst does value action rather than giving up. However, Oakhurst is adamant that he will stay behind, raising the question of whether Oakhurst nobly plans to stay with the women out of loyalty, or if he has merely given up altogether on escaping from the mountains.

Readers may recall that Tom earlier mistook the Duchess for Oakhurst’s wife—a misunderstanding that no one seemed to clear up, as no one wanted to reveal themselves as outcasts—so Oakhurst’s kiss here may be a way for him to continue playing that role so that Tom doesn’t get suspicious. It’s possible, too, that the kiss is Oakhurst’s way of saying a meaningful goodbye to the Duchess, sensing that the end is in sight. Regardless, the kiss has an invigorating effect on the Duchess, who has been repeatedly described as frail and tired up to this point.

Here, the story implies that Oakhurst was the one who left them the firewood, also implying that he had no intentions of returning. In hiding her tears from Piney, the Duchess shows how she’s grown into a motherly, protective role for Piney. However, in this passage, Piney also reciprocates that motherly care. The Duchess becomes “the child” in need of protection, hinting at the transformative effect Piney’s friendship has.

As they fall asleep, the Duchess and Piney are still placed into tidy categories of moral and immoral, virgin and prostitute, a dichotomy that the story is about to challenge head on.

The landscape of the Old West is once again beautiful and gentle in this passage, “mercifully” cleansing the outcasts of “all human stain” and “all trace of earthly travail,” but this tenderness cloaks a dark reality: nature is precisely what has caused the outcasts to suffer so much.

The “footsteps and voices” in the passage likely belong to rescuers because of the invocation of “the law of Poker Flat,” which would suggest that Tom was successful in making it to Poker Flat to get help. However, by now it’s clear that the Duchess and Piney have died. In death, the Duchess is no longer defined by her profession as a prostitute or characterized as frail or tired. As she did for Mother Shipton, Piney drew out the Duchess’s goodness, ensuring that she can’t be pinned down simply as “she that had sinned.”

Oakhurst’s makeshift tombstone is a playing card, which aligns with his worldview that life is a game of luck—either one has it or one doesn’t. Earlier, the story revealed that the gulch marks the boundary of Poker Flat. While it’s unclear just how long that gulch stretches, it seems significant that Oakhurst commits suicide at the head of the gulch, implying that he was perhaps not so far from town and could have made it there. This possibility speaks to the way that Oakhurst oscillates between taking action and giving up too quickly.

The story ends with the declaration that Oakhurst was both exceedingly strong and exceedingly weak, pointing to the guiding question of the story: is Oakhurst a quiet, self-sacrificial hero, or is he a weak man who fails to tenaciously fight against life? Harte leaves this unresolved, forcing readers to form their own interpretation of Oakhurst’s life and death.