Chapter Five.The Travellers meet with Indians, and are led to wish that they had not gone seeking for Gold.It was the evening of a hot sultry day, when our travellers, fatigued and foot-sore, arrived at the entrance of a small valley not far distant from the intended scene of their future operations. Here they determined to encamp for the night on the margin of a small stream, where there was grass for the mule and shelter under the trees for the men. On making their way, however, to the place, they observed an Indian village down on a plain below, and, being uncertain as to the numbers or the temper of the natives, they were about to cross the stream and continue their journey a little further, when a party of six Indians suddenly made their appearance in front, and advanced fearlessly, making signs of friendship.It was found that they understood and could talk a little Spanish, which Rance spoke fluently. After a short conversation, the guide thought that it would be quite safe to stay beside them. The encampment therefore was made, and supper prepared.While this was in progress Frank and Joe went to the top of a neighbouring mound to survey the village. It was a curious residence for human beings. Joe’s remark that it resembled “a colony of big moles” was not inappropriate, for the huts, of which there were about forty, were not unlike huge mole-hills.These huts, it was found, they formed by excavating circular holes in the earth, about twelve feet in diameter and four feet deep, then bending over these a number of stout saplings, which they bound together with tendrils of the vine, they formed a dome-shaped roof, which was plastered with a thick coat of clay. An opening in one side of each formed a door, through which entrance could be made by creeping. On the roofs of these curious dwellings many of the natives were seated, evidently awaiting the result of the deputation’s conference with the white men.The main object that the Indians appeared to have in view was the obtaining of fire-arms, and it was observed that they cast longing eyes upon the rifles which leaned on the trees beside the fire. Rance therefore advised every man to look carefully after his weapons, while he talked with the chief, and told him that he had no guns or ammunition to spare. In order to please him, however, he gave him an old rusty carbine, which was bent in the barrel, and nearly useless, in exchange for a few fresh fish.“My white brother is liberal,” said the delighted savage in bad Spanish, as he surveyed the weapon with admiration, “but it is necessary to have black powder and balls.”“I have none to spare,” replied Rance, “but the settlements of the white men are not far off. Besides, the Indian chief is wise. He does not require to be told that white men come here continually, searching for gold, and that they bring much powder and ball with them. Let gold be offered, and both may be obtained.”The chief took this remark for a hint, and at once offered some gold-dust in exchange for powder and shot, but Rance shook his head, knowing that, if obtained, the ammunition would in all probability be used against himself. The chief was therefore obliged to rest content in the mean time with the harmless weapon.Meanwhile, another party of seven or eight Indians had gone towards Frank and Joe, and by signs made them to understand that there was something worth shooting on the other side of a cliff not fifty yards off. Our hero and his nautical friend were both of unsuspicious natures, and being much amused by the ludicrous gesticulations of the savages in their efforts to enlighten them, as well as curious to ascertain what it could be that was on the other side of the cliff, they accompanied them in that direction.The moment they had passed out of sight of the camp a powerful savage leaped on Frank from behind, and, grasping him round the throat with both arms, endeavoured to throw him, while another Indian wrenched the rifle out of his hand. At the same moment Joe Graddy was similarly seized. The savages had, however, underrated the strength of their antagonists. Frank stooped violently forward, almost to the ground, and hurled the Indian completely over his head. At the same time he drew a revolver from his belt, fired at and wounded the other Indian, who dropped the rifle, and doubled like a hare into the bushes. The others fled right and left, as Frank sprang forward and recovered his weapon—all save the one whose unhappy lot it had been to assault Joe Graddy, and who was undergoing rapid strangulation, when Frank ran to his rescue.“Have mercy on him, Joe!” he cried.“Marcy! why should I have marcy on such a dirty—lie still, then,” said Joe sternly, as he pressed his knee deeper into the pit of the Indian’s stomach, and compressed his throat with both hands until his tongue protruded, and both eyes seemed about to start from their sockets.“Come, come, Joe; you volunteered to be my servant, so you are bound to obey me.”Saying this, Frank seized the angry tar by the collar, and dragged him forcibly off his victim, who, after a gasp or two, rose and limped away.“He has got quite enough,” continued Frank, “to keep you vividly in his remembrance for the rest of his life, so we must hasten to the camp, for I fear that the Indians won’t remain friendly after this unfortunate affair.”Grunting out his dissatisfaction pretty freely, Joe accompanied his friend to the camp-fire, where their comrades were found in a state of great alarm about their safety. They had heard the shots and shouts, and were on the point of hastening to the rescue. The chief and his companions, meanwhile, were making earnest protestations that no evil was intended.When Frank and Joe appeared, Rance turned angrily on the chief, and ordered him and his men to quit the camp instantly. This they hesitated to do for a little, and the chief made fresh efforts to calm the irritated guide, but Rance knew that he had to deal with treacherous men, and repeated his order to be off at the same time throwing forward his rifle in a threatening manner. Whereupon the chief flew into a violent rage, and, after using a good deal of abusive language, returned to his village, where he immediately summoned a council of war, and, by his violent gesticulations and frequent looking and pointing towards the camp, left no doubt on the minds of the travellers as to his intentions.Rance therefore made the best preparations possible in the circumstances to repel an attack.Their position was very critical, for the Indians numbered about a hundred men, while their own party consisted only of six. But they had the one great advantage over their enemies—the possession of fire-arms, and felt much confidence in consequence.“Get out all your weapons, big and little,” said Rance, as he loaded his rifle, “and fire ’em off to begin with. It will show them that we are well prepared.”Accordingly they commenced letting off their pieces, and what with rifles, double shot-guns, double and single barrelled pistols, and revolvers, they made up the formidable number of fifty-three discharges, which had a very warlike effect when fired in quick and regular succession.Carrying these in their hands, and disposed round their persons, intermixed with short swords and long bowie-knives, the whole party mounted guard, bristling like human hedge-hogs, and, placed at equal intervals on each side of the camp, marched about for an hour or two, without seeing or hearing anything more of their enemies.At last their mule became a little restive, putting them on the alert, and shortly afterwards an arrow whizzed past Joe’s ear. He instantly presented his carbine in the direction whence it came, and fired. The shot was answered by a perfect shower of arrows, which pierced the clothes of some of the white men, and slightly wounded Douglas in the left arm, but fortunately did no further damage. The discharge was followed by a quick movement in the bushes, rendered audible by the crushing of dried leaves and breaking of branches. This guided the whites in their aim, and a volley was poured into the bush, followed by several random shots from revolvers.Soon after all noise was hushed, and a brief examination of the surrounding bushes was made, but it could not be ascertained that any damage had been done to the Indians, who always make it a point, when possible, to carry off their dead to prevent their being scalped—a dishonour they fear almost as much as death.“Now, one half of us may sleep,” said Rance, when the party was again collected round the fire.“Sleep!” exclaimed Frank.“Ay, there’s nothing more to fear from the rascals to-night, if we keep a good look-out—and that may be done as effectively by three of us as by six. If we each get a wink of an hour or two, we shall be quite fit to travel or to fight in the morning. So let me advise you to lose no time about it.—Not badly hurt, sir, I hope?” he added, addressing Douglas.“Nothing to speak of,” answered the Scot, “only a graze of the skin.”“Well, get away to rest. You can take the second watch, and it is not likely they will disturb you before morning. If they do, you won’t require to be called, so keep your weapons handy.”As Rance prophesied, so it turned out. The Indians had got an unexpectedly severe repulse, and did not attempt to interfere with the travellers during the night, but in the morning they were found to have posted themselves on the opposite banks of the stream, evidently with the intention of disputing the further progress of the party.Nothing now but prompt determination could save them from being cut off by overwhelming numbers, for if they were to hesitate, or waver in the least, the Indians would be encouraged to make an attack. They therefore calmly and deliberately blew up the fire, boiled their kettle and had breakfast, after which the mule was loaded, and the party prepared to cross the stream.Before doing so, however, Rance and Jeffson, being the best marksmen, advanced to the edge of the bank with two of the largest rifles and took aim at the Indians, hoping by that means to frighten them away without being obliged to shed more blood. In this they failed, for, the distance being fully five hundred yards, the natives evidently believed that it was impossible for a ball to tell at such a distance. On seeing Rance point his rifle at them they set up a yell of derision. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to fire. This Rance did, and one of the Indians fell. Jeffson also fired and hit the chief, who reeled, but did not fall. The savages immediately began a hurried retreat, and the travellers refrained from firing, in order to convince them that all they desired was to be allowed to go on their way unmolested.The crossing of the stream was then effected. On mounting the opposite bank it was found that the Indians had taken up their position, fully armed, on the top of their huts, with an air of quiet resolution that showed they apprehended an attack, and were prepared to defend their homes to the death.This, however, they were not called upon to do, for the travellers turned off to the right, and pursued their way as if nothing had happened. But two of the Indians had been badly hit, perhaps killed, and the thought of this dwelt much on the minds of Frank and his friend Joe all that day. Another thing that distressed them much was the well-known custom of the natives to take their revenge at the first favourable opportunity. It was a rule among them to take two lives of white men for every redskin killed, and they were known not to be particular as to who the whites might be,—sufficient for them that they were of the offending and hated race. The fact that the innocent might thus suffer for the guilty was to them a matter of perfect indifference.The route over which the whites travelled that day chanced to be unusually picturesque and beautiful. The path, or “trail,”—for there was scarcely anything worthy the name of path,—wound through a sycamore and white-oak grove that fringed the river, the sloping banks of which were covered with an infinite variety of shrubs and evergreens, bearing flowers and blossoms of most delicate beauty and exquisite fragrance, amidst which tangled festoons of the indigenous vine drooped with pendant bunches of purple grapes. Arbutus shrubs of immense size were seen, and the landscape was in some places interspersed thickly with manzanita rushes, the crimson berries of which are much in favour with the Indians, also with the grizzly bear! Some of the plains they crossed were studded with magnificent oaks, devoid of underwood, such as one is accustomed to see in noblemen’s parks in England.But all this beauty and luxuriance made comparatively little impression on Frank and Joe, for they could not forget that human life had probably been sacrificed that day—a thought which filled them with sincere regret that it had ever entered into their hearts to go digging for gold.
It was the evening of a hot sultry day, when our travellers, fatigued and foot-sore, arrived at the entrance of a small valley not far distant from the intended scene of their future operations. Here they determined to encamp for the night on the margin of a small stream, where there was grass for the mule and shelter under the trees for the men. On making their way, however, to the place, they observed an Indian village down on a plain below, and, being uncertain as to the numbers or the temper of the natives, they were about to cross the stream and continue their journey a little further, when a party of six Indians suddenly made their appearance in front, and advanced fearlessly, making signs of friendship.
It was found that they understood and could talk a little Spanish, which Rance spoke fluently. After a short conversation, the guide thought that it would be quite safe to stay beside them. The encampment therefore was made, and supper prepared.
While this was in progress Frank and Joe went to the top of a neighbouring mound to survey the village. It was a curious residence for human beings. Joe’s remark that it resembled “a colony of big moles” was not inappropriate, for the huts, of which there were about forty, were not unlike huge mole-hills.
These huts, it was found, they formed by excavating circular holes in the earth, about twelve feet in diameter and four feet deep, then bending over these a number of stout saplings, which they bound together with tendrils of the vine, they formed a dome-shaped roof, which was plastered with a thick coat of clay. An opening in one side of each formed a door, through which entrance could be made by creeping. On the roofs of these curious dwellings many of the natives were seated, evidently awaiting the result of the deputation’s conference with the white men.
The main object that the Indians appeared to have in view was the obtaining of fire-arms, and it was observed that they cast longing eyes upon the rifles which leaned on the trees beside the fire. Rance therefore advised every man to look carefully after his weapons, while he talked with the chief, and told him that he had no guns or ammunition to spare. In order to please him, however, he gave him an old rusty carbine, which was bent in the barrel, and nearly useless, in exchange for a few fresh fish.
“My white brother is liberal,” said the delighted savage in bad Spanish, as he surveyed the weapon with admiration, “but it is necessary to have black powder and balls.”
“I have none to spare,” replied Rance, “but the settlements of the white men are not far off. Besides, the Indian chief is wise. He does not require to be told that white men come here continually, searching for gold, and that they bring much powder and ball with them. Let gold be offered, and both may be obtained.”
The chief took this remark for a hint, and at once offered some gold-dust in exchange for powder and shot, but Rance shook his head, knowing that, if obtained, the ammunition would in all probability be used against himself. The chief was therefore obliged to rest content in the mean time with the harmless weapon.
Meanwhile, another party of seven or eight Indians had gone towards Frank and Joe, and by signs made them to understand that there was something worth shooting on the other side of a cliff not fifty yards off. Our hero and his nautical friend were both of unsuspicious natures, and being much amused by the ludicrous gesticulations of the savages in their efforts to enlighten them, as well as curious to ascertain what it could be that was on the other side of the cliff, they accompanied them in that direction.
The moment they had passed out of sight of the camp a powerful savage leaped on Frank from behind, and, grasping him round the throat with both arms, endeavoured to throw him, while another Indian wrenched the rifle out of his hand. At the same moment Joe Graddy was similarly seized. The savages had, however, underrated the strength of their antagonists. Frank stooped violently forward, almost to the ground, and hurled the Indian completely over his head. At the same time he drew a revolver from his belt, fired at and wounded the other Indian, who dropped the rifle, and doubled like a hare into the bushes. The others fled right and left, as Frank sprang forward and recovered his weapon—all save the one whose unhappy lot it had been to assault Joe Graddy, and who was undergoing rapid strangulation, when Frank ran to his rescue.
“Have mercy on him, Joe!” he cried.
“Marcy! why should I have marcy on such a dirty—lie still, then,” said Joe sternly, as he pressed his knee deeper into the pit of the Indian’s stomach, and compressed his throat with both hands until his tongue protruded, and both eyes seemed about to start from their sockets.
“Come, come, Joe; you volunteered to be my servant, so you are bound to obey me.”
Saying this, Frank seized the angry tar by the collar, and dragged him forcibly off his victim, who, after a gasp or two, rose and limped away.
“He has got quite enough,” continued Frank, “to keep you vividly in his remembrance for the rest of his life, so we must hasten to the camp, for I fear that the Indians won’t remain friendly after this unfortunate affair.”
Grunting out his dissatisfaction pretty freely, Joe accompanied his friend to the camp-fire, where their comrades were found in a state of great alarm about their safety. They had heard the shots and shouts, and were on the point of hastening to the rescue. The chief and his companions, meanwhile, were making earnest protestations that no evil was intended.
When Frank and Joe appeared, Rance turned angrily on the chief, and ordered him and his men to quit the camp instantly. This they hesitated to do for a little, and the chief made fresh efforts to calm the irritated guide, but Rance knew that he had to deal with treacherous men, and repeated his order to be off at the same time throwing forward his rifle in a threatening manner. Whereupon the chief flew into a violent rage, and, after using a good deal of abusive language, returned to his village, where he immediately summoned a council of war, and, by his violent gesticulations and frequent looking and pointing towards the camp, left no doubt on the minds of the travellers as to his intentions.
Rance therefore made the best preparations possible in the circumstances to repel an attack.
Their position was very critical, for the Indians numbered about a hundred men, while their own party consisted only of six. But they had the one great advantage over their enemies—the possession of fire-arms, and felt much confidence in consequence.
“Get out all your weapons, big and little,” said Rance, as he loaded his rifle, “and fire ’em off to begin with. It will show them that we are well prepared.”
Accordingly they commenced letting off their pieces, and what with rifles, double shot-guns, double and single barrelled pistols, and revolvers, they made up the formidable number of fifty-three discharges, which had a very warlike effect when fired in quick and regular succession.
Carrying these in their hands, and disposed round their persons, intermixed with short swords and long bowie-knives, the whole party mounted guard, bristling like human hedge-hogs, and, placed at equal intervals on each side of the camp, marched about for an hour or two, without seeing or hearing anything more of their enemies.
At last their mule became a little restive, putting them on the alert, and shortly afterwards an arrow whizzed past Joe’s ear. He instantly presented his carbine in the direction whence it came, and fired. The shot was answered by a perfect shower of arrows, which pierced the clothes of some of the white men, and slightly wounded Douglas in the left arm, but fortunately did no further damage. The discharge was followed by a quick movement in the bushes, rendered audible by the crushing of dried leaves and breaking of branches. This guided the whites in their aim, and a volley was poured into the bush, followed by several random shots from revolvers.
Soon after all noise was hushed, and a brief examination of the surrounding bushes was made, but it could not be ascertained that any damage had been done to the Indians, who always make it a point, when possible, to carry off their dead to prevent their being scalped—a dishonour they fear almost as much as death.
“Now, one half of us may sleep,” said Rance, when the party was again collected round the fire.
“Sleep!” exclaimed Frank.
“Ay, there’s nothing more to fear from the rascals to-night, if we keep a good look-out—and that may be done as effectively by three of us as by six. If we each get a wink of an hour or two, we shall be quite fit to travel or to fight in the morning. So let me advise you to lose no time about it.—Not badly hurt, sir, I hope?” he added, addressing Douglas.
“Nothing to speak of,” answered the Scot, “only a graze of the skin.”
“Well, get away to rest. You can take the second watch, and it is not likely they will disturb you before morning. If they do, you won’t require to be called, so keep your weapons handy.”
As Rance prophesied, so it turned out. The Indians had got an unexpectedly severe repulse, and did not attempt to interfere with the travellers during the night, but in the morning they were found to have posted themselves on the opposite banks of the stream, evidently with the intention of disputing the further progress of the party.
Nothing now but prompt determination could save them from being cut off by overwhelming numbers, for if they were to hesitate, or waver in the least, the Indians would be encouraged to make an attack. They therefore calmly and deliberately blew up the fire, boiled their kettle and had breakfast, after which the mule was loaded, and the party prepared to cross the stream.
Before doing so, however, Rance and Jeffson, being the best marksmen, advanced to the edge of the bank with two of the largest rifles and took aim at the Indians, hoping by that means to frighten them away without being obliged to shed more blood. In this they failed, for, the distance being fully five hundred yards, the natives evidently believed that it was impossible for a ball to tell at such a distance. On seeing Rance point his rifle at them they set up a yell of derision. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to fire. This Rance did, and one of the Indians fell. Jeffson also fired and hit the chief, who reeled, but did not fall. The savages immediately began a hurried retreat, and the travellers refrained from firing, in order to convince them that all they desired was to be allowed to go on their way unmolested.
The crossing of the stream was then effected. On mounting the opposite bank it was found that the Indians had taken up their position, fully armed, on the top of their huts, with an air of quiet resolution that showed they apprehended an attack, and were prepared to defend their homes to the death.
This, however, they were not called upon to do, for the travellers turned off to the right, and pursued their way as if nothing had happened. But two of the Indians had been badly hit, perhaps killed, and the thought of this dwelt much on the minds of Frank and his friend Joe all that day. Another thing that distressed them much was the well-known custom of the natives to take their revenge at the first favourable opportunity. It was a rule among them to take two lives of white men for every redskin killed, and they were known not to be particular as to who the whites might be,—sufficient for them that they were of the offending and hated race. The fact that the innocent might thus suffer for the guilty was to them a matter of perfect indifference.
The route over which the whites travelled that day chanced to be unusually picturesque and beautiful. The path, or “trail,”—for there was scarcely anything worthy the name of path,—wound through a sycamore and white-oak grove that fringed the river, the sloping banks of which were covered with an infinite variety of shrubs and evergreens, bearing flowers and blossoms of most delicate beauty and exquisite fragrance, amidst which tangled festoons of the indigenous vine drooped with pendant bunches of purple grapes. Arbutus shrubs of immense size were seen, and the landscape was in some places interspersed thickly with manzanita rushes, the crimson berries of which are much in favour with the Indians, also with the grizzly bear! Some of the plains they crossed were studded with magnificent oaks, devoid of underwood, such as one is accustomed to see in noblemen’s parks in England.
But all this beauty and luxuriance made comparatively little impression on Frank and Joe, for they could not forget that human life had probably been sacrificed that day—a thought which filled them with sincere regret that it had ever entered into their hearts to go digging for gold.
Chapter Six.Arrival at the Gold-Fields, and Lessons in Gold-Washing received.At last Bigbear Gully was reached, and our travellers—especially those of them who, being new to the work, were all enthusiasm—pressed eagerly forward, anxious to begin without delay.Bigbear Gully—so named because of a huge grizzly bear that had been shot there at the commencement of digging operations—was a wild and somewhat gloomy but picturesque mountain gorge, the first sight of which, with its lights and shadows, stupendous cliffs and clumps of wood clinging to the hill-sides, called forth a burst of delight and admiration from Frank Allfrey, whose mind at once leaped with loving desire to the brush and the colour-box; but as these implements were at that time packed among the baggage on the mule’s back, and as the love of art was not sufficiently strong in the guide to induce him to permit of a moment’s delay in the journey, our hero was fain to content himself with visions of future indulgence in his favourite study.The “diggings,” which they first got sight of in the afternoon of a fine and sunny but cool day, were at the mouth of a deep gorge at the lower end of the gully, having an abrupt mountain acclivity about eight hundred feet high on one side, and on the other a plain bounded by mountains. Here numbers of tents of all sizes and various shapes were pitched on the slopes and near the banks of the river that brawled down the centre of the little valley.No sooner had the travellers entered the camp than the diggers left their work and flocked round them to ask the news, and, more particularly, to ascertain what provisions had been brought to the valley,—for the necessaries of life at that time were getting scarce, and the party from which Frank and his companions had separated, strange to say, had not arrived.Great anxiety was manifested by the diggers on hearing of this separation, because on the safe and speedy arrival of that party they depended almost for their existence, and deep as well as loud were the expressions of disappointment and discontent when they were told that, if all had gone well, they should have been at the gully some days before.Soon, however, the diggers had exhausted their queries and returned to their work, leaving the new arrivals to look after their own affairs. This they proceeded to do promptly.“Now, friends,” said Jeffson, “our journeying together has come to an end, and it remains for you to settle whether you shall keep together and work in company, or separate. As for me, my business compels me to leave you. Yonder white tent, which you see about half a mile up the river, belongs to me and my partner. It is the great economico-universal store of Jeffson and Company, which supplies diggers liberally on the most moderate terms, giving credit as long as it seems advisable to do so. When Jeffson is absent, Company takes charge of the concern, and it is my opinion that Company will be kind o’ glad to-night to see the head of the firm come back safe and sound with fresh supplies. You see, gentlemen, I feel it sort of incumbent on me to make you a farewell speech as a fellow-traveller, because I mean to become a host for to-night, and ask you to come up to the store and partake of our hospitality. I am quite sure that you will acquit me of the unworthy motive of wishing to attract you as customers, when I tell you that I am already certain of your custom, seeing that there is no other store in the gully, and I guess you won’t be inclined to go down to Sacramento for supplies for some time to come.”There was a general laugh at this, followed by a hearty expression of thanks from all the party, who forthwith adjourned to the store, where they found “Company” (who was an Irishman named Quin) barely able to keep his legs, in consequence of a violent attack of dysentery which had reduced him to a mere shadow. The poor man could scarcely refrain from shedding tears of joy at the sight of his partner, who, to do him justice, was almost as much affected by sorrow at the miserable appearance presented by his friend.“Sure it’s dead I am intirely—all but,” said Quin, as he wrung Jeffson’s hand again and again; “if ye’d bin a day later it’s my belaif I’d have gone under the sod.”“Well, you do look like it, Quin,” said Jeffson, stepping back to take a more critical view of him. “What on airth pulled all the flesh off yer bones in this fashion?”“Sickness, no less. Faix, there’s more than me is in the same fix. Jim Dander, down at the cross creek, has got so thin that it’s of no manner o’ use looking at him sideways, he’s not quite visible till he turns his flat front to ye. And Foxey is all but gone; and there’s many a man besides as is on the road to the grave, if not there already. Sure, the doctor’s the only man that makes money now, though he kills more than he cures. The baste called to try his hand on mysilf, but I flung my big boots at his head, an’ saw no more of him.”“That’s a bad account of things,” said Jeffson; “however, here I am back again with fresh supplies, so cheer up, man, and we’ll weather the storm yet. I’ve brought some fellow-travellers, you see, and hope you will receive them hospitably.”“That must not be,” said Frank Allfrey, advancing, “it would be unfair to put your friend to unnecessary trouble considering the state of weakness to which—”“Waikness, is it?” exclaimed Quin, seizing Frank’s hand and shaking it; “well, now, it’s little I thought I’d iver live to be called waik! Howsever, it’s too thrue, but me moral strength is wonderful, so you’re heartily welcome, if ye can slaip on a plank floor an’ ait salt-pork an’ paise. There, now, don’t be botherin’ a sick man wid yer assurances. Just make yerselves at home, gintlemen, an’ the head o’ the firm will git yer supper ready.”Saying this, the poor man, who was quite worn out with excitement and the exertion of welcoming his partner, flung himself on his couch with a deep sigh. As Jeffson also pressed his friends to remain, they made no further objection.While supper was being prepared, Frank and Joe went out to look at the diggers.“Now,” said the former as they sauntered along the bank of the river, “the question that you and I must settle at once is, are we two to work by ourselves, or are we to join with our late friends, and work in company?”“Jine ’em, say I,” replied Joe. “I’m fond of Meyer, and I like the Scotchman too, though he is rather fond of argification; besides, it strikes me that from what we have heard of diggers’ ways, we shall be the better of being a strong party.”“Four men don’t form a very strong party, Joe; however, I agree with you. It would be well that we four should stick together. So, that’s settled, and now we shall go and ask yonder fellow in the red shirt and big boots something about our prospects.”The scene in the midst of which they now found themselves was curious, interesting, and suggestive. For two miles along its course the banks of the river were studded with tents, and on each side of it were diggers, working at short distances apart, or congregated together, according to the richness of the deposits. About twenty feet was the space generally allowed at that time to a washing machine. Most of the diggers worked close to the banks of the stream, others partially diverted its course to get at its bed, which was considered the richest soil. At one place a company of eighty men had banded together for the purpose of cutting a fresh channel for the river—a proceeding which afterwards resulted in a fierce and fatal affray with the men who worked below them. Elsewhere on the sides of the mountains and in “gulches” formed by torrents, men toiled singly and in twos or threes, with picks, shovels, washing-pans, and cradles. All were very busy, but all were not equally hopeful, for, while some had been successful in finding the precious metal, others had failed, and were very desponding.“Have you had good fortune to-day?” asked Frank, stopping at the edge of the hole in which the miner with the red shirt toiled.“Not very good,” replied the man, whose voice betokened him an Englishman.He was an immensely powerful, good-looking fellow, and paused in his work to reply to Frank’s question with a hearty air.“Have you to dig very deep?” inquired Frank.“Not very,” he replied; “the depth varies in different parts of the diggings. Here it is seldom necessary to go deeper than four feet. Indeed, a white rock usually lays about the depth of two feet under the soil. It is difficult to cut through, and does not pay for the trouble.”“Do you find gold on the surface?” continued Frank.“Almost none. Being weighty, it sinks downwards through the loose earth, and settles on the rock. I see, gentlemen, that you are strangers, and, if I mistake not, Englishmen. I am a countryman, hailing from Cornwall, and, if you have no objection, will accompany you in your inspection of the diggings. My experience may be of service to you, perhaps, and I can at all events guard you from the scoundrels who make a livelihood by deceiving and cheating newcomers.”Frank thanked the Cornish miner for his kind offer, and accompanied by this new and intelligent friend, he and Joe continued their ramble.One of the first men whom they addressed happened to be one of the sharpers referred to. He was a Yankee, and although the Yankees were by no means theonlyscoundrels there, for there was no lack of such—English, Scotch, Irish, German, and Chinese—they were unquestionably the “’cutest!”This man was very busy when they approached, and appeared to be quite indifferent to them. Observing, however, that they were about to pass by, he looked up, and, wiping his brow, said, “Good-evening.”“Good-evening,” said Frank, “What luck?”“Luck enough,” replied the man, “I’m tired of luck; the fact is, I have made my pile, and want to make tracks for home, but this is such a splendid claim that I can’t tear myself away from it. See here.”He struck his shovel into the ground as he spoke, and lifted a quantity of earth, or “dirt,” into a basin, washed it out, and displayed to the astonished gaze of the “greenhorns,” as newcomers were called, a large quantity of gold-dust, with several small nuggets interspersed.“Splendid!” exclaimed Frank.“You’ll make your fortin,” said Joe Graddy.“It’s made already, I reckon,” said the Yankee, with the air of a man who was overburdened with success. “The truth is, I want to get away before the rainy season comes on, and will part with this here claim for an old song. I’m half inclined to make you a present of it, but I don’t quite see my way to that. However, I’ve no objection to hand it over for, say a hundred dollars.”“H’m!” ejaculated the Cornish man, “will you take a shovelful from theotherend of the claim and wash it out?”The Yankee smiled, put his finger on the side of his nose, and, wishing them success in whatever line of life they chose to undertake, went on with his work.The Cornish miner laughed, and, as he walked away, explained to his astonished companions that this was a common dodge.“The rascals,” he said, “hide a little gold in a claim that is valueless, and, digging it up as you have seen, wash it out in the presence of newcomers, in the hope of taking them in. But here we come to a party who will show you a little of legitimate gold-washing.”They approached, as he spoke, a bend of the river where several men were busy at work—some with pick and shovel, some with the cradle, and others with tin washing-pans. Here they stood for some time watching the process of gold-washing.At the time of which we write, only the two simple processes of washing, with the pan and with the cradle, were practised at Bigbear Gully, the more elaborate methods of crushing quartz, etcetera, not having been introduced.The most simple of these was thepanprocess, which was much in favour, because the soil, or “dirt” was so rich in gold-dust that it “paid” well, and it only required that the miner should possess a pick, a shovel, and a tin pan. With this very limited stock in trade he could begin without delay, and earn at least a subsistence; perhaps even make “his pile,” or, in other words, his fortune.One of the men connected with the party above referred to was engaged in pan-washing. He stood in a hole four feet deep, and had just filled a flat tin dish with dirt, as Frank and his companions stopped to observe him. Pouring water on the dirt, the miner set the pan down, dipped both hands into it and stirred the contents about until they became liquid mud—removing the stones in the process, and operating in such a manner that he caused some of the contents to escape, or spill, off the top at each revolution. More water was added from time to time, and the process continued until all the earthy matter was washed away, and nothing but a kind of black sand, which contained the gold, left at the bottom. The separation of the metal from the black sand was an after process, and a more difficult one. It was accomplished in some cases by means of a magnet which attracted the sand. In other cases this was blown carefully off from a sheet of paper, but a few of the miners, who managed matters in a more extensive and thorough manner, effected the separation by means of quicksilver. They mixed it with the sand, added a little water, and stirred it about until the gold amalgamated with the quicksilver, converting it into a little massive, tangible, and soft heap. It was then put into a buckskin cloth, through the pores of which the quicksilver was squeezed, leaving the pure gold behind. Any trifling quantity of the former that might still remain was afterwards evaporated on a heated shovel or pan.An expert worker in average ground could gather and wash a panful of dirt every ten minutes. There were few places in Bigbear Gully that would not yield two shillings’ worth of gold to the panful, so that in those early days, while the surface soil was still fresh, a man could, by steady work alone—without incidental nuggets—work out gold-dust to the value of between five and six pounds sterling a day, while, occasionally, he came upon a lump, or nugget, equal, perhaps, to what he could procure by the labour of a week or more.Many, however, of the more energetic miners worked in companies and used cradles, by means of which they washed out a much larger quantity of gold in shorter time; and in places which did not yield a sufficient return by the pan process to render it worth while working, the cradle owners obtained ample remuneration for their toil.The cradle, which Frank and his comrades saw working not far from the pan-washer, was by no means a complex affair. It was a semi-circular trough hollowed out of a log six feet long by sixteen inches diameter. At one end of this was a perforated copper or iron plate, with a rim of iron or wood round it, on which the dirt was thrown, and water poured thereon, by one man, while the cradle was rocked by another. The gold, earth, and small gravel were thus separated from the larger stones, and washed down the trough, in which, at intervals, two tranverse bars were placed; the first of these arrested the gold, which from its great weight sunk to the bottom, while the gravel, and lighter substances, were swept away by the current. The lower bar caught any particles that, by awkward management, might have passed the upper one.Having satisfied their curiosity, and learned from an obliging miner the method of washing the gold, our adventurers returned to Jeffson’s store, and there spent the night in discussing their plan of procedure. It was decided, first of all, that they should stick together and work in company.“You see, mates,” observed Joe Graddy, after the others had given their opinions, “this is how it stands. I must stick by Mister Allfrey, ’cause why, we’ve bin pullin’ in the same boat together for some time past, an’ it’s nat’ral for to wish to continue so to do. Then Douglas and Meyer ought to stick to us, ’cause we have for so long stuck to them, an’ they ought to stick to one another ’cause they’re mootooally fond o’ misty-physical jabberin’ on religious subjects, which is greatly to our edification, seein’ that we don’t onderstand it, and finds it highly amoosin’ while we smoke our pipes after a hard day’s work, d’ye see? So, on them grounds, I votes that we j’ine company an’ go to work at seven o’clock to-morrow mornin’.”“Das ist goot advise,” said the German, slapping Joe on the shoulder, “an’ I vould add mine vott, vich is, to make you commandair of de forces.”“Very good, then I command you to shut your mouth, and go to bed.”“Unpossabil,” replied Meyer, “for I do snor, an’ always do him troo de mout’.”“I prefers to do it through the nose,” remarked Joe, rolling his blanket round him and lying down on the hard boards with his head on a sack.Expressing a hope that they would restrain their snoring propensities as much as possible, the remaining members of the new co-partnery lay down beside them, and were speedily in the land of dreams. Need we add that their dreams that night were of gold? Surely not, and perhaps it were equally unnecessary to observe that their slumbers were profound.
At last Bigbear Gully was reached, and our travellers—especially those of them who, being new to the work, were all enthusiasm—pressed eagerly forward, anxious to begin without delay.
Bigbear Gully—so named because of a huge grizzly bear that had been shot there at the commencement of digging operations—was a wild and somewhat gloomy but picturesque mountain gorge, the first sight of which, with its lights and shadows, stupendous cliffs and clumps of wood clinging to the hill-sides, called forth a burst of delight and admiration from Frank Allfrey, whose mind at once leaped with loving desire to the brush and the colour-box; but as these implements were at that time packed among the baggage on the mule’s back, and as the love of art was not sufficiently strong in the guide to induce him to permit of a moment’s delay in the journey, our hero was fain to content himself with visions of future indulgence in his favourite study.
The “diggings,” which they first got sight of in the afternoon of a fine and sunny but cool day, were at the mouth of a deep gorge at the lower end of the gully, having an abrupt mountain acclivity about eight hundred feet high on one side, and on the other a plain bounded by mountains. Here numbers of tents of all sizes and various shapes were pitched on the slopes and near the banks of the river that brawled down the centre of the little valley.
No sooner had the travellers entered the camp than the diggers left their work and flocked round them to ask the news, and, more particularly, to ascertain what provisions had been brought to the valley,—for the necessaries of life at that time were getting scarce, and the party from which Frank and his companions had separated, strange to say, had not arrived.
Great anxiety was manifested by the diggers on hearing of this separation, because on the safe and speedy arrival of that party they depended almost for their existence, and deep as well as loud were the expressions of disappointment and discontent when they were told that, if all had gone well, they should have been at the gully some days before.
Soon, however, the diggers had exhausted their queries and returned to their work, leaving the new arrivals to look after their own affairs. This they proceeded to do promptly.
“Now, friends,” said Jeffson, “our journeying together has come to an end, and it remains for you to settle whether you shall keep together and work in company, or separate. As for me, my business compels me to leave you. Yonder white tent, which you see about half a mile up the river, belongs to me and my partner. It is the great economico-universal store of Jeffson and Company, which supplies diggers liberally on the most moderate terms, giving credit as long as it seems advisable to do so. When Jeffson is absent, Company takes charge of the concern, and it is my opinion that Company will be kind o’ glad to-night to see the head of the firm come back safe and sound with fresh supplies. You see, gentlemen, I feel it sort of incumbent on me to make you a farewell speech as a fellow-traveller, because I mean to become a host for to-night, and ask you to come up to the store and partake of our hospitality. I am quite sure that you will acquit me of the unworthy motive of wishing to attract you as customers, when I tell you that I am already certain of your custom, seeing that there is no other store in the gully, and I guess you won’t be inclined to go down to Sacramento for supplies for some time to come.”
There was a general laugh at this, followed by a hearty expression of thanks from all the party, who forthwith adjourned to the store, where they found “Company” (who was an Irishman named Quin) barely able to keep his legs, in consequence of a violent attack of dysentery which had reduced him to a mere shadow. The poor man could scarcely refrain from shedding tears of joy at the sight of his partner, who, to do him justice, was almost as much affected by sorrow at the miserable appearance presented by his friend.
“Sure it’s dead I am intirely—all but,” said Quin, as he wrung Jeffson’s hand again and again; “if ye’d bin a day later it’s my belaif I’d have gone under the sod.”
“Well, you do look like it, Quin,” said Jeffson, stepping back to take a more critical view of him. “What on airth pulled all the flesh off yer bones in this fashion?”
“Sickness, no less. Faix, there’s more than me is in the same fix. Jim Dander, down at the cross creek, has got so thin that it’s of no manner o’ use looking at him sideways, he’s not quite visible till he turns his flat front to ye. And Foxey is all but gone; and there’s many a man besides as is on the road to the grave, if not there already. Sure, the doctor’s the only man that makes money now, though he kills more than he cures. The baste called to try his hand on mysilf, but I flung my big boots at his head, an’ saw no more of him.”
“That’s a bad account of things,” said Jeffson; “however, here I am back again with fresh supplies, so cheer up, man, and we’ll weather the storm yet. I’ve brought some fellow-travellers, you see, and hope you will receive them hospitably.”
“That must not be,” said Frank Allfrey, advancing, “it would be unfair to put your friend to unnecessary trouble considering the state of weakness to which—”
“Waikness, is it?” exclaimed Quin, seizing Frank’s hand and shaking it; “well, now, it’s little I thought I’d iver live to be called waik! Howsever, it’s too thrue, but me moral strength is wonderful, so you’re heartily welcome, if ye can slaip on a plank floor an’ ait salt-pork an’ paise. There, now, don’t be botherin’ a sick man wid yer assurances. Just make yerselves at home, gintlemen, an’ the head o’ the firm will git yer supper ready.”
Saying this, the poor man, who was quite worn out with excitement and the exertion of welcoming his partner, flung himself on his couch with a deep sigh. As Jeffson also pressed his friends to remain, they made no further objection.
While supper was being prepared, Frank and Joe went out to look at the diggers.
“Now,” said the former as they sauntered along the bank of the river, “the question that you and I must settle at once is, are we two to work by ourselves, or are we to join with our late friends, and work in company?”
“Jine ’em, say I,” replied Joe. “I’m fond of Meyer, and I like the Scotchman too, though he is rather fond of argification; besides, it strikes me that from what we have heard of diggers’ ways, we shall be the better of being a strong party.”
“Four men don’t form a very strong party, Joe; however, I agree with you. It would be well that we four should stick together. So, that’s settled, and now we shall go and ask yonder fellow in the red shirt and big boots something about our prospects.”
The scene in the midst of which they now found themselves was curious, interesting, and suggestive. For two miles along its course the banks of the river were studded with tents, and on each side of it were diggers, working at short distances apart, or congregated together, according to the richness of the deposits. About twenty feet was the space generally allowed at that time to a washing machine. Most of the diggers worked close to the banks of the stream, others partially diverted its course to get at its bed, which was considered the richest soil. At one place a company of eighty men had banded together for the purpose of cutting a fresh channel for the river—a proceeding which afterwards resulted in a fierce and fatal affray with the men who worked below them. Elsewhere on the sides of the mountains and in “gulches” formed by torrents, men toiled singly and in twos or threes, with picks, shovels, washing-pans, and cradles. All were very busy, but all were not equally hopeful, for, while some had been successful in finding the precious metal, others had failed, and were very desponding.
“Have you had good fortune to-day?” asked Frank, stopping at the edge of the hole in which the miner with the red shirt toiled.
“Not very good,” replied the man, whose voice betokened him an Englishman.
He was an immensely powerful, good-looking fellow, and paused in his work to reply to Frank’s question with a hearty air.
“Have you to dig very deep?” inquired Frank.
“Not very,” he replied; “the depth varies in different parts of the diggings. Here it is seldom necessary to go deeper than four feet. Indeed, a white rock usually lays about the depth of two feet under the soil. It is difficult to cut through, and does not pay for the trouble.”
“Do you find gold on the surface?” continued Frank.
“Almost none. Being weighty, it sinks downwards through the loose earth, and settles on the rock. I see, gentlemen, that you are strangers, and, if I mistake not, Englishmen. I am a countryman, hailing from Cornwall, and, if you have no objection, will accompany you in your inspection of the diggings. My experience may be of service to you, perhaps, and I can at all events guard you from the scoundrels who make a livelihood by deceiving and cheating newcomers.”
Frank thanked the Cornish miner for his kind offer, and accompanied by this new and intelligent friend, he and Joe continued their ramble.
One of the first men whom they addressed happened to be one of the sharpers referred to. He was a Yankee, and although the Yankees were by no means theonlyscoundrels there, for there was no lack of such—English, Scotch, Irish, German, and Chinese—they were unquestionably the “’cutest!”
This man was very busy when they approached, and appeared to be quite indifferent to them. Observing, however, that they were about to pass by, he looked up, and, wiping his brow, said, “Good-evening.”
“Good-evening,” said Frank, “What luck?”
“Luck enough,” replied the man, “I’m tired of luck; the fact is, I have made my pile, and want to make tracks for home, but this is such a splendid claim that I can’t tear myself away from it. See here.”
He struck his shovel into the ground as he spoke, and lifted a quantity of earth, or “dirt,” into a basin, washed it out, and displayed to the astonished gaze of the “greenhorns,” as newcomers were called, a large quantity of gold-dust, with several small nuggets interspersed.
“Splendid!” exclaimed Frank.
“You’ll make your fortin,” said Joe Graddy.
“It’s made already, I reckon,” said the Yankee, with the air of a man who was overburdened with success. “The truth is, I want to get away before the rainy season comes on, and will part with this here claim for an old song. I’m half inclined to make you a present of it, but I don’t quite see my way to that. However, I’ve no objection to hand it over for, say a hundred dollars.”
“H’m!” ejaculated the Cornish man, “will you take a shovelful from theotherend of the claim and wash it out?”
The Yankee smiled, put his finger on the side of his nose, and, wishing them success in whatever line of life they chose to undertake, went on with his work.
The Cornish miner laughed, and, as he walked away, explained to his astonished companions that this was a common dodge.
“The rascals,” he said, “hide a little gold in a claim that is valueless, and, digging it up as you have seen, wash it out in the presence of newcomers, in the hope of taking them in. But here we come to a party who will show you a little of legitimate gold-washing.”
They approached, as he spoke, a bend of the river where several men were busy at work—some with pick and shovel, some with the cradle, and others with tin washing-pans. Here they stood for some time watching the process of gold-washing.
At the time of which we write, only the two simple processes of washing, with the pan and with the cradle, were practised at Bigbear Gully, the more elaborate methods of crushing quartz, etcetera, not having been introduced.
The most simple of these was thepanprocess, which was much in favour, because the soil, or “dirt” was so rich in gold-dust that it “paid” well, and it only required that the miner should possess a pick, a shovel, and a tin pan. With this very limited stock in trade he could begin without delay, and earn at least a subsistence; perhaps even make “his pile,” or, in other words, his fortune.
One of the men connected with the party above referred to was engaged in pan-washing. He stood in a hole four feet deep, and had just filled a flat tin dish with dirt, as Frank and his companions stopped to observe him. Pouring water on the dirt, the miner set the pan down, dipped both hands into it and stirred the contents about until they became liquid mud—removing the stones in the process, and operating in such a manner that he caused some of the contents to escape, or spill, off the top at each revolution. More water was added from time to time, and the process continued until all the earthy matter was washed away, and nothing but a kind of black sand, which contained the gold, left at the bottom. The separation of the metal from the black sand was an after process, and a more difficult one. It was accomplished in some cases by means of a magnet which attracted the sand. In other cases this was blown carefully off from a sheet of paper, but a few of the miners, who managed matters in a more extensive and thorough manner, effected the separation by means of quicksilver. They mixed it with the sand, added a little water, and stirred it about until the gold amalgamated with the quicksilver, converting it into a little massive, tangible, and soft heap. It was then put into a buckskin cloth, through the pores of which the quicksilver was squeezed, leaving the pure gold behind. Any trifling quantity of the former that might still remain was afterwards evaporated on a heated shovel or pan.
An expert worker in average ground could gather and wash a panful of dirt every ten minutes. There were few places in Bigbear Gully that would not yield two shillings’ worth of gold to the panful, so that in those early days, while the surface soil was still fresh, a man could, by steady work alone—without incidental nuggets—work out gold-dust to the value of between five and six pounds sterling a day, while, occasionally, he came upon a lump, or nugget, equal, perhaps, to what he could procure by the labour of a week or more.
Many, however, of the more energetic miners worked in companies and used cradles, by means of which they washed out a much larger quantity of gold in shorter time; and in places which did not yield a sufficient return by the pan process to render it worth while working, the cradle owners obtained ample remuneration for their toil.
The cradle, which Frank and his comrades saw working not far from the pan-washer, was by no means a complex affair. It was a semi-circular trough hollowed out of a log six feet long by sixteen inches diameter. At one end of this was a perforated copper or iron plate, with a rim of iron or wood round it, on which the dirt was thrown, and water poured thereon, by one man, while the cradle was rocked by another. The gold, earth, and small gravel were thus separated from the larger stones, and washed down the trough, in which, at intervals, two tranverse bars were placed; the first of these arrested the gold, which from its great weight sunk to the bottom, while the gravel, and lighter substances, were swept away by the current. The lower bar caught any particles that, by awkward management, might have passed the upper one.
Having satisfied their curiosity, and learned from an obliging miner the method of washing the gold, our adventurers returned to Jeffson’s store, and there spent the night in discussing their plan of procedure. It was decided, first of all, that they should stick together and work in company.
“You see, mates,” observed Joe Graddy, after the others had given their opinions, “this is how it stands. I must stick by Mister Allfrey, ’cause why, we’ve bin pullin’ in the same boat together for some time past, an’ it’s nat’ral for to wish to continue so to do. Then Douglas and Meyer ought to stick to us, ’cause we have for so long stuck to them, an’ they ought to stick to one another ’cause they’re mootooally fond o’ misty-physical jabberin’ on religious subjects, which is greatly to our edification, seein’ that we don’t onderstand it, and finds it highly amoosin’ while we smoke our pipes after a hard day’s work, d’ye see? So, on them grounds, I votes that we j’ine company an’ go to work at seven o’clock to-morrow mornin’.”
“Das ist goot advise,” said the German, slapping Joe on the shoulder, “an’ I vould add mine vott, vich is, to make you commandair of de forces.”
“Very good, then I command you to shut your mouth, and go to bed.”
“Unpossabil,” replied Meyer, “for I do snor, an’ always do him troo de mout’.”
“I prefers to do it through the nose,” remarked Joe, rolling his blanket round him and lying down on the hard boards with his head on a sack.
Expressing a hope that they would restrain their snoring propensities as much as possible, the remaining members of the new co-partnery lay down beside them, and were speedily in the land of dreams. Need we add that their dreams that night were of gold? Surely not, and perhaps it were equally unnecessary to observe that their slumbers were profound.
Chapter Seven.Gives the Result of the First Day’s Digging, and shows the Powerful Effect of Lynch-Law.Next morning Frank and his friends went out to choose their claim. As we have said, the Bigbear Gully was not at that time generally known. A comparatively small number of diggers had set to work in it, and they were careful to avoid giving much information to “prospecting,” or searching parties, because they knew that if the richness of the soil were known, there would be a general rush to it from all quarters. There was therefore no lack of unoccupied ground.A suitable spot was chosen in a pleasant grove on the banks of the stream where it swept round the base of a magnificent precipice, not far from Jeffson’s store. Here Douglas, Meyer, and Joe set to work to build a kind of hut of logs, branches, and mud, while Frank returned to the store to purchase the necessary tools. Having little money left, he was compelled to take credit, which Jeffson readily granted to him, knowing full well that there was little fear of the account remaining long unpaid.In order that the reader may have an idea of the charges made at the diggings in those days, we subjoin the list of purchases made at the commencement of operations by the firm of “Allfrey, Douglas and Company.”A rocker or cradle6 pounds 5 shillingsA spade, shovel, pick-axe, and two tin washing-pans3 pounds 15 shillings12 pounds weight of biscuit, 12 pounds weight of salt-pork and beef4 pounds weight of lard, and 6 pounds weight of flour10 pounds 8 shillingsA frying-pan, sauce-pan, and four tin mugs2 pounds 12 shillingsSum-Total23 pounds 0 shillingsWhen Joe Graddy heard the sum-total he looked very blank indeed, but, quickly recovering himself, insisted that they should leave off house-building, which, in the fine weather, he said, wos o’ no manner o’ use, and it was a matter o’ prime importance to go to dig at once, an’ pay off their debt without delay.Joe was overruled, however, and when it was explained to him that the fine weather might not last long, that it was essential to health that they should have a roof of some sort to keep off the dews, and that digging might be commenced in right earnest on the morrow, he consented to continue his labours at the hut.That night they slept sounder than usual, and, on the following morning, began to dig for gold.They commenced within a few feet of the water’s edge. Joe handled the pick and spade; Meyer carried the “dirt” on his broad shoulders to Douglas, who rocked the cradle, while Frank washed out the auriferous matter in one of the tin pans, until nothing but pure gold and black sand remained. It was reserved for evening to separate the sand from the gold, and ascertain the result of their day’s labour.At noon, in accordance with the universal custom at the mines, they threw down their tools and went up to the hut for an hour’s rest and refreshment. Of course they discussed while they dined, and hoped largely! but their jaws were more active than their tongues, and the moment the hour was completed they returned vigorously to work.When the shades of evening began to descend, they returned to the hut, and, kindling a fire, commenced to fry blacksand and gold, being anxious to ascertain the result of the first day’s work before supper! As each panful was dried and blown, the gold was weighed and put into a small white bowl, the bottom of which was soon heaped up with shining particles, varying in size from the smallest visible specks to little lumps like grains of corn.A neighbouring miner, who had offered to weigh the result for them, pronounced this first day’s work as an unusually successful one, being, he said, a little over thirty-six pounds sterling.“How much?” exclaimed Joe Graddy in amazement.“Thirty-six pounds sterling,” repeated the miner.“Youdon’tmean that?”“Indeed I do,” replied the miner, smiling.“Then our fortins is made a’ready—all but—”“Not quite; you forget the price of our outfit,” said Frank.“No doubt, I did,” answered the seaman, a little subdued.“And the price o’ grub,” added Douglas; “not to mention clothing, which we shall want very soon, I fear, for the tear and wear of this kind of work is considerable. Why, I found to-day, when I took a stroll at noon, that they charge five pounds sterling for a flannel shirt, and four pounds for a pair of boots, and everything else is in proportion; so, you see, our thirty-six pounds won’t do much for us at that rate. However, I admit that we have reason to be satisfied with the day’s work.”“You certainly have,” said their friend the miner; “for it is very seldom that beginners do so much. And now I would give you one piece of advice before I go, which is, that you appoint one of your number to cook for the rest. More men are killed, I believe, by eating half-cooked victuals, than by hard work. They come in fagged and wet at night, cook their grub hastily, bolt it, and then lie down to sleep in damp clothes. Of course they soon break down. Our party have kept very fair health in the midst of great sickness; and I believe it is chiefly owing to the fact that, on first setting to work, we appointed one of our number, who had a talent that way, to attend to the cooking department. We relieved him of a great deal of the hard labour, but gave him his equal share of the profits. The consequence has been that we are all in first-rate health, and dig more energetically than our neighbours.”“Has there then been much sickness here of late?” asked Frank.“A great deal, and I fear there will be much more when the rains set in; but let me urge you again to take my advice about appointing a cook.”“That,” said Joe Graddy, “is just wot we means to do, Mister wot’s-yer-name?”“Stewart,” said the miner.“Well, Mister Stewart, I’ll ap’int myself cook to our party, havin’, if I may say so, a nat’ral talent that way, w’ich wos deweloped on my first voyage round the world, w’en our cook died of a broken heart—so it’s said—’cause the doctor knocked off his grog, and put him on an allowance o’ lime juice.”Saying this, Joe heaved a deep sigh, seized the frying-pan, and commenced his self-imposed duties. Our hero took up the bowl of gold-dust, and was about to leave the hut, when Douglas arrested him with—“Hallo, Frank, where away? I shall have to shout ‘stop thief’ if you go off like that with the gold.”“I’m going to pay our debt to Jeffson,” said Frank, with a laugh. “I have great belief, Douglas, in the plan of paying as one goes. Debt is a heavy weight, which I never mean to carry if I can help it. A good old aunt of mine used often to din into everybody’s ears the text ‘owe no man anything,’ and I really believe she has caused it to take a strong hold of me, for I can’t rest till I square off Jeffson’s account!”Frank hastened away, and soon after returned with the balance, thirteen pounds, which, as Douglas observed when they began supper, was the nucleus of their future fortune; while Joe remarked that “he didn’t know wot nooklius wos, but if it meant thebeginnin’of their fortin, it wasn’t a big un, as things went at the diggin’s.”The proceeds of the next day’s work were nearly equal to those of the first, and the spirits of the diggers were proportionally high; but on the third day they did not wash out much more than half the quantity of gold. They were therefore somewhat depressed; and this condition of mind was increased by one of those events which were at times of frequent occurrence there. This was the murder of one miner by another, and the summary application of Lynch-law to the criminal.It occurred about noon, when the miners were at dinner. A man named Higson, who was noted for swearing and brutality, was standing near Jeffson’s store, when a young miner named Elms came up, greatly excited, in consequence of having just found a large nugget, which he wished to have weighed. To the surprise of all, and the indignation of Elms, Higson suddenly snatched the nugget out of his hand, and swore that it had been got in a claim to which Elms had no title, and that, being alongside of his own, and included in the line he had marked off, the nugget was his by rights!The young man sprang upon Higson, and a struggle ensued, in the midst of which the latter drew his bowie-knife and stabbed Elms to the heart. When he fell, Higson attempted to run, but a stout German tripped up his heels, and a cry of wild anger arose from those who had witnessed the deed.“Lynch him!” they shouted furiously.Frank Allfrey and his friends heard the shout, and ran to the spot; but the administration of justice was so prompt that, before they reached it, the murderer was swinging by the neck to the branch of a tree.“Surely you have been too hasty,” exclaimed Frank, advancing without any settled intention, but under an indefinable sense that wrong was being done.At this several miners leaped forward, and drawing their revolvers, swore with a terrible oath that they would shoot any man who should attempt to cut the murderer down.As one of the miners here explained hastily why it was that justice had been meted out with such promptitude, our hero drew back and left the spot, feeling, however, that Judge Lynch was a very dangerous character, seeing that he might be just as prompt with the innocent as with the guilty, although he would find it rather difficult to recall life if he should find out afterwards that he had been mistaken in his views.This event was followed two days after by another incident, which caused considerable excitement in Bigbear Gully. With the increase of miners there had been a considerable increase of crime, as might naturally have been expected in a country where, while there were undoubtedly many honest men, there were also thousands of scoundrels of all nations who had been attracted thither by the dazzling accounts given of the new El Dorado in the West. Rows, more or less severe, in reference to claims and boundaries, had become frequent. Cold-blooded murders were on the increase; and thefts became so common that a general sense of insecurity began to be felt.This state of things at last wrought its own cure. One day a youth went into the hut of a neighbouring digger, a Yankee, and stole a coffee-tin. He was taken in the act, and as this was the second time that he had been caught purloining his neighbours’ goods, those in the vicinity rose upen massein a furore of indignation. A hurried meeting of all the miners was called, and it was unanimously resolved—at least so unanimously that those who dissented thought it advisable to be silent—that Lynch-law should be rigorously put in force.Accordingly, several of the most energetic and violent of the miners constituted themselves judges on the spot, and, on hearing a brief statement of the case, decreed that the culprit was to be subjected to whatever punishment should be determined on by the man whom he had injured. The Yankee at once decided that the rims of his ears should be cut off, and that he should be seared deeply in the cheek with a red-hot iron; which sentence was carried into execution on the spot!It happened that while this was going on, another of the thieving fraternity, who did not know of the storm that was gathering and about to burst over the heads of such as he, took advantage of the excitement to enter a tent, and abstract therefrom a bag of gold worth several hundred pounds. It chanced that the owner of it happened to be ailing slightly that day, and, instead of following his companions, had lain still in his tent, rolled up in blankets. He was awakened by the thief, sprang up and collared him, and, observing what he was about, dragged him before the tribunal which was still sitting in deliberation on the affairs of the community. The man was instantly condemned to be shot, and this was done at once—several of the exasperated judges assisting the firing party to carry the sentence into execution.“Now men,” cried a tall raw-boned Yankee from the Western States, mounting on a stump after the body had been removed, and speaking with tremendous vehemence, “I guess things have come to such a deadlock here that it’s time for honest men to carry things with a high hand, so I opine we had better set about it and make a few laws,—an’ if you have no objections, I’ll lay down a lot o’ them slick off—bran’ new laws, warranted to work well, and stand wear and tear, and ready greased for action.”“Hear! hear!” cried several voices in the crowd that surrounded this western Solon, while others laughed at his impudence. All, however, were eager to see the prevailing state of things put right, and glad to back any one who appeared able and willing to act with vigour.“Wall then, here goes,” cried the Yankee. “Let it be decreed that whatever critter shall be nabbed in the act of makin’ tracks with what isn’t his’n, shall have his ears cut off, if it’s a mild case, and be hanged or shot if it’s a bad un.”A hearty and stern assent was at once given to this law, and the law-giver went on to lay down others. He said that of course murder would be punished also with death, and for several other offences men should be flogged or branded on the cheeks with red-hot irons. Having in little more than ten minutes laid down these points, he enacted that thenceforth each man should be entitled to a claim of ten feet square, which, being multiplied by the number of his mess, would give the limits of the allotments in particular locations; but that, he said, would not prevent any man from moving from one site and fixing on another.To this proposition, however, some of the miners demurred, and the law-giver found that, although in criminal law he had been allowed to have it all his own way, in civil matters he must listen to the opinion of others. However, after much wrangling this law was agreed to; and it was also arranged, among other things, that as long as any one left his tools in his claim, his rights were to be respected.This meeting had the most beneficial influence on the miners. Rough and ready, as well as harsh, though their proceedings were, they accomplished the end in view most effectually, for after several terrible examples had been made, which proved to evil-doers that men were thoroughly in earnest, stealing, quarrelling about boundaries, and murdering were seldom heard of in that district—insomuch that men could leave bags of gold in their tents unwatched for days together, and their tools quite open in their claims without the slightest fear of their being touched!The reader must not suppose here that we are either upholding or defending the proceedings of the celebrated Judge Lynch. We are merely recording facts, which prove how efficacious his severe code was in bringing order out of confusion in Bigbear Gully at that time.It is not necessary that we should follow the varied fortunes of our hero and his friends, day by day, while they were engaged in digging for gold. Suffice it to say that sometimes they were fortunate, sometimes the reverse, but that on the whole, they were successful beyond the average of diggers, and became sanguine of making their fortunes in a short time.Nevertheless Frank Allfrey did not like the life. Whatever else might arouse his ambition, he was evidently not one of those whose soul was set upon the acquisition of wealth. Although successful as a digger, and with more gold in his possession than he knew what to do with, he detested the dirty, laborious work of digging and dabbling in mud from morning till night. He began to see that, as far as the nature of his daily toil was concerned, he worked harder, and was worse off than the poorest navvy who did the dirtiest work in old England! He sighed for more congenial employment, meditated much over the subject, and finally resolved to give up gold-digging.Before, however, he could carry this resolve into effect, he was smitten with a dire disease, and in a few days lay on the damp floor of his poor hut, as weak and helpless as a little child.
Next morning Frank and his friends went out to choose their claim. As we have said, the Bigbear Gully was not at that time generally known. A comparatively small number of diggers had set to work in it, and they were careful to avoid giving much information to “prospecting,” or searching parties, because they knew that if the richness of the soil were known, there would be a general rush to it from all quarters. There was therefore no lack of unoccupied ground.
A suitable spot was chosen in a pleasant grove on the banks of the stream where it swept round the base of a magnificent precipice, not far from Jeffson’s store. Here Douglas, Meyer, and Joe set to work to build a kind of hut of logs, branches, and mud, while Frank returned to the store to purchase the necessary tools. Having little money left, he was compelled to take credit, which Jeffson readily granted to him, knowing full well that there was little fear of the account remaining long unpaid.
In order that the reader may have an idea of the charges made at the diggings in those days, we subjoin the list of purchases made at the commencement of operations by the firm of “Allfrey, Douglas and Company.”
When Joe Graddy heard the sum-total he looked very blank indeed, but, quickly recovering himself, insisted that they should leave off house-building, which, in the fine weather, he said, wos o’ no manner o’ use, and it was a matter o’ prime importance to go to dig at once, an’ pay off their debt without delay.
Joe was overruled, however, and when it was explained to him that the fine weather might not last long, that it was essential to health that they should have a roof of some sort to keep off the dews, and that digging might be commenced in right earnest on the morrow, he consented to continue his labours at the hut.
That night they slept sounder than usual, and, on the following morning, began to dig for gold.
They commenced within a few feet of the water’s edge. Joe handled the pick and spade; Meyer carried the “dirt” on his broad shoulders to Douglas, who rocked the cradle, while Frank washed out the auriferous matter in one of the tin pans, until nothing but pure gold and black sand remained. It was reserved for evening to separate the sand from the gold, and ascertain the result of their day’s labour.
At noon, in accordance with the universal custom at the mines, they threw down their tools and went up to the hut for an hour’s rest and refreshment. Of course they discussed while they dined, and hoped largely! but their jaws were more active than their tongues, and the moment the hour was completed they returned vigorously to work.
When the shades of evening began to descend, they returned to the hut, and, kindling a fire, commenced to fry blacksand and gold, being anxious to ascertain the result of the first day’s work before supper! As each panful was dried and blown, the gold was weighed and put into a small white bowl, the bottom of which was soon heaped up with shining particles, varying in size from the smallest visible specks to little lumps like grains of corn.
A neighbouring miner, who had offered to weigh the result for them, pronounced this first day’s work as an unusually successful one, being, he said, a little over thirty-six pounds sterling.
“How much?” exclaimed Joe Graddy in amazement.
“Thirty-six pounds sterling,” repeated the miner.
“Youdon’tmean that?”
“Indeed I do,” replied the miner, smiling.
“Then our fortins is made a’ready—all but—”
“Not quite; you forget the price of our outfit,” said Frank.
“No doubt, I did,” answered the seaman, a little subdued.
“And the price o’ grub,” added Douglas; “not to mention clothing, which we shall want very soon, I fear, for the tear and wear of this kind of work is considerable. Why, I found to-day, when I took a stroll at noon, that they charge five pounds sterling for a flannel shirt, and four pounds for a pair of boots, and everything else is in proportion; so, you see, our thirty-six pounds won’t do much for us at that rate. However, I admit that we have reason to be satisfied with the day’s work.”
“You certainly have,” said their friend the miner; “for it is very seldom that beginners do so much. And now I would give you one piece of advice before I go, which is, that you appoint one of your number to cook for the rest. More men are killed, I believe, by eating half-cooked victuals, than by hard work. They come in fagged and wet at night, cook their grub hastily, bolt it, and then lie down to sleep in damp clothes. Of course they soon break down. Our party have kept very fair health in the midst of great sickness; and I believe it is chiefly owing to the fact that, on first setting to work, we appointed one of our number, who had a talent that way, to attend to the cooking department. We relieved him of a great deal of the hard labour, but gave him his equal share of the profits. The consequence has been that we are all in first-rate health, and dig more energetically than our neighbours.”
“Has there then been much sickness here of late?” asked Frank.
“A great deal, and I fear there will be much more when the rains set in; but let me urge you again to take my advice about appointing a cook.”
“That,” said Joe Graddy, “is just wot we means to do, Mister wot’s-yer-name?”
“Stewart,” said the miner.
“Well, Mister Stewart, I’ll ap’int myself cook to our party, havin’, if I may say so, a nat’ral talent that way, w’ich wos deweloped on my first voyage round the world, w’en our cook died of a broken heart—so it’s said—’cause the doctor knocked off his grog, and put him on an allowance o’ lime juice.”
Saying this, Joe heaved a deep sigh, seized the frying-pan, and commenced his self-imposed duties. Our hero took up the bowl of gold-dust, and was about to leave the hut, when Douglas arrested him with—
“Hallo, Frank, where away? I shall have to shout ‘stop thief’ if you go off like that with the gold.”
“I’m going to pay our debt to Jeffson,” said Frank, with a laugh. “I have great belief, Douglas, in the plan of paying as one goes. Debt is a heavy weight, which I never mean to carry if I can help it. A good old aunt of mine used often to din into everybody’s ears the text ‘owe no man anything,’ and I really believe she has caused it to take a strong hold of me, for I can’t rest till I square off Jeffson’s account!”
Frank hastened away, and soon after returned with the balance, thirteen pounds, which, as Douglas observed when they began supper, was the nucleus of their future fortune; while Joe remarked that “he didn’t know wot nooklius wos, but if it meant thebeginnin’of their fortin, it wasn’t a big un, as things went at the diggin’s.”
The proceeds of the next day’s work were nearly equal to those of the first, and the spirits of the diggers were proportionally high; but on the third day they did not wash out much more than half the quantity of gold. They were therefore somewhat depressed; and this condition of mind was increased by one of those events which were at times of frequent occurrence there. This was the murder of one miner by another, and the summary application of Lynch-law to the criminal.
It occurred about noon, when the miners were at dinner. A man named Higson, who was noted for swearing and brutality, was standing near Jeffson’s store, when a young miner named Elms came up, greatly excited, in consequence of having just found a large nugget, which he wished to have weighed. To the surprise of all, and the indignation of Elms, Higson suddenly snatched the nugget out of his hand, and swore that it had been got in a claim to which Elms had no title, and that, being alongside of his own, and included in the line he had marked off, the nugget was his by rights!
The young man sprang upon Higson, and a struggle ensued, in the midst of which the latter drew his bowie-knife and stabbed Elms to the heart. When he fell, Higson attempted to run, but a stout German tripped up his heels, and a cry of wild anger arose from those who had witnessed the deed.
“Lynch him!” they shouted furiously.
Frank Allfrey and his friends heard the shout, and ran to the spot; but the administration of justice was so prompt that, before they reached it, the murderer was swinging by the neck to the branch of a tree.
“Surely you have been too hasty,” exclaimed Frank, advancing without any settled intention, but under an indefinable sense that wrong was being done.
At this several miners leaped forward, and drawing their revolvers, swore with a terrible oath that they would shoot any man who should attempt to cut the murderer down.
As one of the miners here explained hastily why it was that justice had been meted out with such promptitude, our hero drew back and left the spot, feeling, however, that Judge Lynch was a very dangerous character, seeing that he might be just as prompt with the innocent as with the guilty, although he would find it rather difficult to recall life if he should find out afterwards that he had been mistaken in his views.
This event was followed two days after by another incident, which caused considerable excitement in Bigbear Gully. With the increase of miners there had been a considerable increase of crime, as might naturally have been expected in a country where, while there were undoubtedly many honest men, there were also thousands of scoundrels of all nations who had been attracted thither by the dazzling accounts given of the new El Dorado in the West. Rows, more or less severe, in reference to claims and boundaries, had become frequent. Cold-blooded murders were on the increase; and thefts became so common that a general sense of insecurity began to be felt.
This state of things at last wrought its own cure. One day a youth went into the hut of a neighbouring digger, a Yankee, and stole a coffee-tin. He was taken in the act, and as this was the second time that he had been caught purloining his neighbours’ goods, those in the vicinity rose upen massein a furore of indignation. A hurried meeting of all the miners was called, and it was unanimously resolved—at least so unanimously that those who dissented thought it advisable to be silent—that Lynch-law should be rigorously put in force.
Accordingly, several of the most energetic and violent of the miners constituted themselves judges on the spot, and, on hearing a brief statement of the case, decreed that the culprit was to be subjected to whatever punishment should be determined on by the man whom he had injured. The Yankee at once decided that the rims of his ears should be cut off, and that he should be seared deeply in the cheek with a red-hot iron; which sentence was carried into execution on the spot!
It happened that while this was going on, another of the thieving fraternity, who did not know of the storm that was gathering and about to burst over the heads of such as he, took advantage of the excitement to enter a tent, and abstract therefrom a bag of gold worth several hundred pounds. It chanced that the owner of it happened to be ailing slightly that day, and, instead of following his companions, had lain still in his tent, rolled up in blankets. He was awakened by the thief, sprang up and collared him, and, observing what he was about, dragged him before the tribunal which was still sitting in deliberation on the affairs of the community. The man was instantly condemned to be shot, and this was done at once—several of the exasperated judges assisting the firing party to carry the sentence into execution.
“Now men,” cried a tall raw-boned Yankee from the Western States, mounting on a stump after the body had been removed, and speaking with tremendous vehemence, “I guess things have come to such a deadlock here that it’s time for honest men to carry things with a high hand, so I opine we had better set about it and make a few laws,—an’ if you have no objections, I’ll lay down a lot o’ them slick off—bran’ new laws, warranted to work well, and stand wear and tear, and ready greased for action.”
“Hear! hear!” cried several voices in the crowd that surrounded this western Solon, while others laughed at his impudence. All, however, were eager to see the prevailing state of things put right, and glad to back any one who appeared able and willing to act with vigour.
“Wall then, here goes,” cried the Yankee. “Let it be decreed that whatever critter shall be nabbed in the act of makin’ tracks with what isn’t his’n, shall have his ears cut off, if it’s a mild case, and be hanged or shot if it’s a bad un.”
A hearty and stern assent was at once given to this law, and the law-giver went on to lay down others. He said that of course murder would be punished also with death, and for several other offences men should be flogged or branded on the cheeks with red-hot irons. Having in little more than ten minutes laid down these points, he enacted that thenceforth each man should be entitled to a claim of ten feet square, which, being multiplied by the number of his mess, would give the limits of the allotments in particular locations; but that, he said, would not prevent any man from moving from one site and fixing on another.
To this proposition, however, some of the miners demurred, and the law-giver found that, although in criminal law he had been allowed to have it all his own way, in civil matters he must listen to the opinion of others. However, after much wrangling this law was agreed to; and it was also arranged, among other things, that as long as any one left his tools in his claim, his rights were to be respected.
This meeting had the most beneficial influence on the miners. Rough and ready, as well as harsh, though their proceedings were, they accomplished the end in view most effectually, for after several terrible examples had been made, which proved to evil-doers that men were thoroughly in earnest, stealing, quarrelling about boundaries, and murdering were seldom heard of in that district—insomuch that men could leave bags of gold in their tents unwatched for days together, and their tools quite open in their claims without the slightest fear of their being touched!
The reader must not suppose here that we are either upholding or defending the proceedings of the celebrated Judge Lynch. We are merely recording facts, which prove how efficacious his severe code was in bringing order out of confusion in Bigbear Gully at that time.
It is not necessary that we should follow the varied fortunes of our hero and his friends, day by day, while they were engaged in digging for gold. Suffice it to say that sometimes they were fortunate, sometimes the reverse, but that on the whole, they were successful beyond the average of diggers, and became sanguine of making their fortunes in a short time.
Nevertheless Frank Allfrey did not like the life. Whatever else might arouse his ambition, he was evidently not one of those whose soul was set upon the acquisition of wealth. Although successful as a digger, and with more gold in his possession than he knew what to do with, he detested the dirty, laborious work of digging and dabbling in mud from morning till night. He began to see that, as far as the nature of his daily toil was concerned, he worked harder, and was worse off than the poorest navvy who did the dirtiest work in old England! He sighed for more congenial employment, meditated much over the subject, and finally resolved to give up gold-digging.
Before, however, he could carry this resolve into effect, he was smitten with a dire disease, and in a few days lay on the damp floor of his poor hut, as weak and helpless as a little child.
Chapter Eight.Frank and Joe take to Wandering; See some Wonderful Things, and have a Narrow Escape.Before our hero became convalescent, his comrade Douglas was “laid down” with dysentery. In these circumstances, the digging went on slowly, for much of the time of Meyer and Graddy was necessarily occupied in nursing—and truly kind and devoted, though rough, nurses they proved to be in that hour of need.Gradually, but surely, Douglas sank. There was no doctor to prescribe for him, no medicine to be had for love or money. In that wretched hut he lay beside his sick friend, and conversed, as strength permitted, in faint low tones, on the folly of having thrown his life away for “mere gold,” and on the importance of the things that concern the soul. As he drew near his end, the name of the Saviour was often on his lips, and often did he reproach himself for having neglected the “great salvation,” until it wasalmosttoo late. Sometimes he spoke of home—in Scotland,—and gave many messages to Frank, which he begged him to deliver to his mother, if he should ever get well and live to return home.There was something in that “if” which went with a thrill to Frank’s heart, as he lay there, and realised vividly that his comrade was actually dying, and that he too might die.One evening Joe entered the hut with more alacrity than he had done for many a day. He had a large nugget, just dug up, in his hand, and had hastened to his companions to cheer them, if possible, with a sight of it. Douglas was just passing away. He heard his comrade’s hearty remarks, and looked upon the mass of precious metal.“Joe,” he whispered faintly, “Wisdom is more to be desired than gold; ‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.’”He never spoke again, and died within an hour after that.At last Frank began to mend, and soon found himself strong enough to travel, he therefore made arrangements to leave Bigbear Gully with his inseparable friend Joe. Meyer, being a very strong man, and in robust health, determined to remain and work out their claim, which still yielded abundance of gold.“Meyer,” said Frank, the evening before his departure, “I’m very sorry that we are obliged to leave you.”“Ya, das ist mos’ miserable,” said the poor German, looking disconsolate.“But you see,” continued Frank, “that my remaining, in my present state of health, is out of the question. Now, Joe and I have been talking over our affairs. We intend to purchase three mules and set off under the guidance of a half-caste Californian, to visit different parts of this country. We will continue our journey as long as our gold lasts, and then return to San Francisco and take passage for England,—for we have both come to the unalterable determination that we won’t try to make our fortunes by gold-digging. We have sufficient dust to give us a long trip and pay our passage to England, without making use of that big nugget found by Joe, which is worth at least 200 pounds; so we have determined to leave it in possession of Jeffson, to be used by you if luck should ever take a wrong turn—as it will sometimes do—and you should chance to get into difficulties. Of course if you continue prosperous, we will reclaim our share of it on our return hither.”“Ah, you is too goot,” cried the warm-hearted German, seizing Frank’s hand and wringing it, “bot I vill nevair use de nuggut—nevair! You sall find him here sartainly ven you do com bak.”“Well, I hope so, for your own sake,” said Frank, “because that will show you have been successful. But if you get into low water, and do not use it, believe me I shall feel very much aggrieved.”Next day about noon, our hero and Joe, with Junk, their vaquero, mounted their mules and rode away.“A new style o’ cruisin’ this,” said Joe Graddy, one fine day, as they pulled up under the shade of a large tree, at a spot where the scenery was so magnificent that Frank resolved to rest and sketch it.“New, indeed, and splendid too,” he exclaimed enthusiastically, leaping off his mule. “You can go shoot squirrels or bears if you like, Joe, but here I remain for the next three or four hours.”As Frank had been in the habit of treating his friend thus almost every day since starting on their tour, he was quite prepared for it; smiled knowingly, ordered the vaquero to tether the mules and accompany him into the forest, and then, taking his bearings with a small pocket-compass, and critically inspecting the sun, and a huge pinchbeck watch which was the faithful companion of his wanderings, he shouldered his gun and went off, leaving the enthusiastic painter to revel in the glories of the landscape.And truly magnificent the scenery was. They had wandered by that time far from the diggings, and were involved in all the grandeur of the primeval wilderness. Stupendous mountains, capped with snow, surrounded the beautiful valley through which they were travelling, and herbage of the richest description clothed the ground, while some of the trees were so large that many of the giant oaks of old England would have appeared small beside them. Some of the precipices of the valley were fully three thousand feet high, without a break from top to bottom, and the mountain-ranges in the background must have been at least as high again. Large tracts of the low grounds were covered with wild oats and rich grasses; affording excellent pasturage to the deer, which could be seen roving about in herds. Lakes of various sizes were alive with waterfowl, whose shrill and plaintive cries filled the air with wild melody. A noble river coursed throughout the entire length of the valley, and its banks were clothed with oaks, cypresses, and chestnuts, while, up on the mountain sides, firs of truly gigantic size reared their straight stems above the surrounding trees with an air of towering magnificence, which gave them indisputable right to be considered the aristocracy of those grand solitudes.Of these firs Frank observed one so magnificent that, although anxious to begin work without delay, he could not resist the desire to examine it closely. Laying down his book and pencil he ran towards it, and stood for some time in silent amazement, feeling that he was indeed in the presence of the Queen of the Forest. It was a pine which towered to a height of certainly not less than three hundred and sixty feet, and, after careful measurement, was found to be ninety-three feet in circumference. In regarding this tree as the Queen, Frank was doubly correct, for the natives styled it the “Mother of the Forest.” The bark of it, to the height of a hundred and sixteen feet, was, in after years, carried to England, and built up in its original form in the Crystal Palace of Sydenham. It was unfortunately destroyed in the great fire which a few years ago consumed a large part of that magnificent building.But this was not the only wonderful sight that was seen that day. After Frank had finished his drawing, and added it to a portfolio which was already well filled, he fired a shot to recall his nautical comrade and the vaquero. They soon rejoined him, and, continuing their journey, came to a waterfall which, in some respects, excelled that of the far-famed Niagara itself.It had sounded like murmuring thunder in their ears the greater part of that day, and as they approached it the voice of its roar became so deafening that they were prepared for something unusually grand, but not for the stupendous sight and sound that burst upon them when, on turning round the base of a towering precipice, they came suddenly in full view of one of the most wonderful of the Creator’s works in that land.A succession of wall-like mountains rose in two tiers before them into the clouds. Some of the lower clouds floated far below the highest peaks. From the summit of the highest range, a river, equal to the Thames at Richmond, dropt sheer down a precipice of more than two thousand feet. Here it met the summit of the lower mountain-range, on which it burst with a deep-toned sullen roar, comparable only to eternal thunder. A white cloud of spray received the falling river in its soft embrace, and sent it forth again, turbulent and foam-bespeckled, towards its second leap,—another thousand feet,—into the plain below. The entire height of this fall was above three thousand feet!Our hero was of course anxious to make a careful drawing of it, but having already exhausted the greater part of the day, he was fain to content himself with a sketch, after making which they pushed rapidly forward, and encamped for the night, still within sight and sound of the mighty fall.“D’you know, Joe,” said Frank, leaning back against a tree stem, as he gazed meditatively into into the fire after supper was concluded, “it has often struck me that men are very foolish for not taking full possession of the splendid world in which they have been placed.”Frank paused a few moments, but the observation not being sufficiently definite for Joe, who was deep in the enjoyment of his first pipe, no reply was made beyond an interjectional “h’m.”“Just look around you,” pursued Frank, waving his hand towards the landscape, “at this magnificent country; what timber, what soil, what an amount of game, what lakes, what rivers, what facilities for farming, manufacturing, fishing,—everything, in fact, that is calculated to gladden the heart of man.”“Includin’ gold,” suggested Joe.“Including gold,” assented Frank; and there it all lies—has lain since creation—hundreds of thousands of acres of splendid landunoccupied.“Ha! there’s a screw loose somewhere,” said Joe, taking the pipe from his lips and looking at it earnestly, as if the remark were addressed to it, “somethin’ out o’ j’int—a plank started, so to speak—cer’nly.”“No doubt of it,” said Frank; “and the broad acres which we now look upon, as well as those over which we have lately travelled, are as nothing compared with the other waste but fertile lands in America, on which hundreds of thousands of the human race might live happily. Yet, strange to say, men seem to prefer congregating together in little worlds of brick, stone, and mortar, living tier upon tier above each other’s heads, breathing noxious gases instead of the scent of flowers, treading upon mud, stone, and dust, instead of green grass, and dwelling under a sky of smoke instead of bright blue ether—and this, too, in the face of the Bible command to ‘go forth and replenish the earth.’”“Yes, there’s great room,” said Joe, “for the settin’ up of a gin’ral enlightenment an’ universal emigration society, but I raither think it wouldn’t pay.”“I know it wouldn’t, but why not?” demanded Frank.“Ah, why not?” repeated Joe.As neither of them appeared to be able to answer the question, they both remained for some time in a profound reverie, Frank gazing as he was wont to do into the fire, and Joe staring through smoke of his own creation at the vaquero, who reclined on the opposite side of the fire enjoying the tobacco to the full by letting it puff slowly out at his nose as well as his mouth.“Joe,” said Frank.“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Joe with nautical promptitude.“I have been thinking a good deal about our affairs of late, and have come to the conclusion that the sooner we go home the better.”“My notions pre-cisely.”“Moreover,” continued Frank, “I think that we have come far enough in this direction, and that it would be a good plan to return to Bigbear Gully by a different route from that by which we came here, and thus have an opportunity of seeing some of the other parts of the diggings. What say you to that?”“I’m agreeable,” answered Joe.“Well then, shall we decide to commence our return journey to-morrow?”“By all means. Down wi’ the helm, ’bout ship an’ lay our course on another tack by daylight,” said Joe, shaking the ashes out of his pipe with the slow unwilling air of a man who knows that he has had enough but is loath to give up; “I always like to set sail by daylight. It makes one feel up to the mark so to speak, as if one had lost none of the day, and I suppose,” he added with a sigh which resolved itself into a yawn, “that if we means to start so bright an’ early the sooner we tumble in the better.”“True,” said Frank, whose mouth irresistibly followed the example of Joe’s, “I think it will be as well to turn in.”There was a quiet, easy-going lowness in the speech and motions of the two friends, which showed that they were just in a state of readiness to fall into the arms of the drowsy god. They rolled themselves in their blankets, placed their rifles by their sides, their heads on their saddles, and their feet to the fire.Joe Graddy’s breathing proclaimed that he had succumbed at once, but Frank lay for a considerable time winking owlishly at the stars, which returned him the compliment with interest by twinkling at him through the branches of the overhanging trees.Early next morning they arose, remounted their mules and turned back, diverging, according to arrangement, from their former track, and making for a particular part of the diggings where Frank had been given to understand there were many subjects of interest for his pencil. We would fain linger by the way to describe much of what they saw, but the limits of our space require that we should hasten onward, and transport the reader at once to a place named the Great Cañon, which, being a very singular locality, and peculiarly rich in gold, merits description.It was a gloomy gap or gorge—a sort of gigantic split in the earth—lying between two parallel ranges of hills at a depth of several hundred feet, shaped like a wedge, and so narrow below that there was barely standing room. The gold all lay at the bottom, the slopes being too steep to afford it a resting-place.The first diggers who went there were said to have gathered vast quantities of gold; and when Frank and Joe arrived there was quite enough to repay hard work liberally. The miners did not work in companies there. Indeed, the form of the chasm did not admit of operations on a large scale being carried on at any one place. Most of the men worked singly with the pan, and used large bowie-knives with which they picked gold from the crevices of the rocks in the bed of the stream, or scratched the gravelly soil from the roots of the overhanging trees, which were usually rich in deposits. The gorge, about four miles in extent, presented one continuous string of men in single file, all eagerly picking up gold, and admitting that in this work they were unusually successful.But these poor fellows paid a heavy price for the precious metal in the loss of health, the air being very bad, as no refreshing breezes could reach them at the bottom of the gloomy defile.The gold at that place was found both in very large and very small grains, and was mixed with quantities of fine black sand, which the miners blew off from it somewhat carelessly—most of them being “green hands,” and anxious to get at the gold as quickly as possible. This carelessness on their part was somewhat cleverly taken advantage of by a keen old fellow who chanced to enter the hut of a miner when Frank and Joe were there. He had a bag on his back and a humorous twinkle in his eye.“Well, old foxey, what doyouwant?” asked the owner of the hut, who happened to be blowing off the sand from a heap of his gold at the time.“Sure it’s only a little sand I want,” said the man, in a brogue which betrayed his origin.“Sand, Paddy, what for?”“For emery, sure,” said the man, with a very rueful look; “troth it’s myself as is gittin’ too owld entirely for the diggin’s. I was a broth of a boy wance, but what wid dysentery and rheumatiz there’s little or nothin’ o’ me left, so I’m obleeged to contint myself wid gatherin’ the black sand, and sellin’ it as a substitute for emery.”“Well, that is a queer dodge,” said the miner, with a laugh.“True for ye, itisquare, but it’s what I’m redooced to, so av you’ll be so kind as plaze to blow the sand on to this here tray, it’ll be doin’ a poor man a good turn, an’ costin’ ye nothin’.”He held up a tin tray as he spoke, and the miner cheerfully blew the sand off his gold-dust on to it.Thanking him with all the fervour peculiar to his race, the Irishman emptied the sand into his bag, and heaving a heavy sigh, left the hut to request a similar favour of other miners.“You may depend on it,” said Frank, as the old man went out, “that fellow is humbugging you. It is gold, not sand, that he wants.”“That’s a fact,” said Joe Graddy, with an emphatic nod and wink.“Nonsense,” said the miner, “I don’t believe we lose more than a few specks in blowing off the sand—certainly nothing worth speaking of.”The man was wrong in this, however, for it was afterwards discovered that the sly old fellow carried his black sand to his hut, and there, every night, by the agency of quicksilver, he extracted from the sand double the average of gold obtained by the hardest working miner in the Cañon!At each end of this place there was a hut made of calico stretched on a frame of wood, in which were sold brandy and other strong liquors of the most abominable kind, at a charge of about two shillings for a small glass! Cards were also to be found there by those who wished to gamble away their hard-earned gains or double them. Places of iniquity these, which abounded everywhere throughout the diggings, and were the nightly resort of hundreds of diggers, and the scene of their wildest orgies on the Sabbath-day.Leaving the Great Cañon, our travellers—we might almost term them inspectors—came to a creek one raw, wet morning, where a large number of miners where at work. Here they resolved to spend the day, and test the nature of the ground. Accordingly, the vaquero was directed to look after the mules while Frank and Joe went to work with pick, shovel, and pan.They took the “dirt” from a steep incline considerably above the winter level of the stream, in a stratum of hard bluish clay, almost as hard as rock, with a slight surface-covering of earth. It yielded prodigiously. At night they found that they had washed out gold to the value of forty pounds sterling! The particles of gold were all large, many being the size of a grain of corn, with occasional nuggets intermixed, besides quartz amalgamations.“If this had been my first experience o’ them there diggin’s,” said Joe Graddy, as he smoked his pipe that night in the chief gambling and drinking store of the place, “I would have said our fortin wos made, all but. Hows’ever, I don’t forget that the last pair o’ boots I got cost me four pound, an’ the last glass o’ brandy two shillin’s—not to speak o’ death cuttin’ an’ carvin’ all round, an’ the rainy season a-comin’ on, so it’s my advice that we ’bout ship for home as soon as may be.”“I agree with you, Joe,” said Frank, “and I really don’t think I would exchange the pleasure I have derived from journeying through this land, and sketching the scenery, for all the gold it contains. Nevertheless I would not like to be tempted with the offer of such an exchange!—Now, I’ll turn in.”Next morning the rain continued to pour incessantly, and Frank Allfrey had given the order to get ready for a start, when a loud shouting near the hut in which they had slept induced them to run out. A band of men were hurrying toward the tavern with great haste and much gesticulation, dragging a man in the midst of them, who struggled and protested violently.Frank saw at a glance that the prisoner was his former companion Bradling, and that one of the men who held him was the stranger who had been so badly wounded by him at the camp-fire, as formerly related.On reaching the tavern, in front of which grew a large oak-tree—one of the limbs of which was much chafed as if by the sawing of a rope against it—the stranger, whose comrades called him Dick, stood up on a stump, and said—“I tell you what it is, mates, I’m as sure that he did it as I am of my own existence. The man met his death at the hands of this murderer Bradling; ha! he knows his own name, you see! He is an escaped convict.”“And what are you?” said Bradling, turning on him bitterly.“That is no man’s business, so long as I hurt nobody,” cried Dick passionately. “I tell you,” he continued, addressing the crowd, which had quickly assembled, “I found this fellow skulking in the bush close to where the body was found, and I know he did it, because he all but murdered me not many months ago, and there,” he continued, with a look of surprise, pointing straight at our hero, “is a man who can swear to the truth of what I say!”All eyes were at once turned on Frank, who stepped forward, and said—“I can certainly testify to the fact that this man Bradling did attempt to shoot the man whom you call Dick, but I know nothing about the murder which seems to have been perpetrated here, and—”“It’s a young feller as was a quiet harmless sort o’ critter,” said one of the bystanders, “who was found dead under a bush this morning with his skull smashed in; and it’s my opinion, gentlemen, that, since this stranger has sworn to the fact that Bradling tried to murder Dick, he should swing for it.”“I protest, gentlemen,” said Frank energetically, “that I did notswearat all! I did not evensaythat Bradling tried to murder anybody: on the contrary, I think the way in which the man Dick handled his gun at the time when Bradling fired was very susp—”A shout from the crowd drowned the remainder of this speech.“String him up without more ado,” cried several voices.Three men at once seized Bradling, and a rope was quickly flung over the bough of the oak.“Mercy! mercy!” cried the unhappy man, “I swear that I did not murder the man. I have made my pile down at Bigbear Gully, and I’ll give it all—every cent—if you will wait to have the matter examined. Stay,” he added, seeing that they paid no heed to him, “let me speak one word, before I die, with Mr Allfrey. I want to tell him where my gold lies hid.”“It’s a dodge,” cried one of the executioners with a sneer, “but have your say out. It’s the last you’ll have a chance to say here, so look sharp about it.”Frank went forward to the man, who was trembling, and very pale, and begged those who held him to move off a few paces.“Oh! Mr Allfrey,” said Bradling, “I am innocent of this; Iaman escaped convict, it is true, and Ididtry to kill that man Dick, who has given me provocation enough, God knows, but, as He shall be my judge at last, I swear I did not committhismurder. If you will cut the cords that bind my hands, you will prevent a cold-blooded murder being committed now. You saved my life once before. Oh! save it again.”The man said all this in a hurried whisper, but there was something so intensely earnest and truthful in his bearing that Frank, under a sudden and irresistible impulse, which he could not afterwards account for, drew his knife and cut the cords that bound him.Instantly Bradling bounded away like a hunted deer, overturning several men in his flight, and being followed by a perfect storm of bullets from rifles and revolvers, until he had disappeared in the neighbouring wood. Then the miners turned with fury on Frank, but paused abruptly on seeing that he and Joe Graddy stood back to back, with a revolver in each hand.Of course revolvers and rifles were instantly pointed at them, but fortunately the miners in their exasperation had discharged all their fire-arms at Bradling—not a piece remained loaded!Several therefore commenced hurriedly to re-load, but Frank shouted, in a voice that there was no misunderstanding—“The first who attempts to load is a dead man!”This caused them to hesitate, for in those times men, when desperate, were wont to be more prompt to act than to threaten. Still, there were some present who would have run the risk, and it is certain that our hero and his friend would have then and there terminated their career, had not a backwoods hunter stepped forward and said:“Well now, ye air makin’ a pretty noise ’bout nothin’! See here, I know that feller Bradling well.Hedidn’t kill the man. It was a Redskin as did it; I came up in time to see him do it, and killed the Redskin afore he could get away. In proof whereof here is his gun, an’ you’ll find his carcase under the bank where the murder was committed, if ye’ve a mind to look for it. But Bradlingisa murderer. I knows him of old, an’ so, although he’s innocent of this partikler murder, I didn’t see no occasion to try to prevent him gittin’ his desarts. It’s another matter, hows’ever, when you’re goin’ to scrag the men as let him off. If ye’ll take the advice of an old hunter as knows a thing or two, you’ll go to work on yer claims slick off, for the rains are comin’ on, and they will pull ye up sharp, I guess. You’ll make hay while the sun shines if you’re wise.”The opportune interference of this hunter saved Frank and Joe, who, after thanking their deliverer, were not slow to mount their mules and hasten back to Bigbear Gully, resolved more firmly than ever to wind up their affairs, and bid a final adieu to the diggings.
Before our hero became convalescent, his comrade Douglas was “laid down” with dysentery. In these circumstances, the digging went on slowly, for much of the time of Meyer and Graddy was necessarily occupied in nursing—and truly kind and devoted, though rough, nurses they proved to be in that hour of need.
Gradually, but surely, Douglas sank. There was no doctor to prescribe for him, no medicine to be had for love or money. In that wretched hut he lay beside his sick friend, and conversed, as strength permitted, in faint low tones, on the folly of having thrown his life away for “mere gold,” and on the importance of the things that concern the soul. As he drew near his end, the name of the Saviour was often on his lips, and often did he reproach himself for having neglected the “great salvation,” until it wasalmosttoo late. Sometimes he spoke of home—in Scotland,—and gave many messages to Frank, which he begged him to deliver to his mother, if he should ever get well and live to return home.
There was something in that “if” which went with a thrill to Frank’s heart, as he lay there, and realised vividly that his comrade was actually dying, and that he too might die.
One evening Joe entered the hut with more alacrity than he had done for many a day. He had a large nugget, just dug up, in his hand, and had hastened to his companions to cheer them, if possible, with a sight of it. Douglas was just passing away. He heard his comrade’s hearty remarks, and looked upon the mass of precious metal.
“Joe,” he whispered faintly, “Wisdom is more to be desired than gold; ‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.’”
He never spoke again, and died within an hour after that.
At last Frank began to mend, and soon found himself strong enough to travel, he therefore made arrangements to leave Bigbear Gully with his inseparable friend Joe. Meyer, being a very strong man, and in robust health, determined to remain and work out their claim, which still yielded abundance of gold.
“Meyer,” said Frank, the evening before his departure, “I’m very sorry that we are obliged to leave you.”
“Ya, das ist mos’ miserable,” said the poor German, looking disconsolate.
“But you see,” continued Frank, “that my remaining, in my present state of health, is out of the question. Now, Joe and I have been talking over our affairs. We intend to purchase three mules and set off under the guidance of a half-caste Californian, to visit different parts of this country. We will continue our journey as long as our gold lasts, and then return to San Francisco and take passage for England,—for we have both come to the unalterable determination that we won’t try to make our fortunes by gold-digging. We have sufficient dust to give us a long trip and pay our passage to England, without making use of that big nugget found by Joe, which is worth at least 200 pounds; so we have determined to leave it in possession of Jeffson, to be used by you if luck should ever take a wrong turn—as it will sometimes do—and you should chance to get into difficulties. Of course if you continue prosperous, we will reclaim our share of it on our return hither.”
“Ah, you is too goot,” cried the warm-hearted German, seizing Frank’s hand and wringing it, “bot I vill nevair use de nuggut—nevair! You sall find him here sartainly ven you do com bak.”
“Well, I hope so, for your own sake,” said Frank, “because that will show you have been successful. But if you get into low water, and do not use it, believe me I shall feel very much aggrieved.”
Next day about noon, our hero and Joe, with Junk, their vaquero, mounted their mules and rode away.
“A new style o’ cruisin’ this,” said Joe Graddy, one fine day, as they pulled up under the shade of a large tree, at a spot where the scenery was so magnificent that Frank resolved to rest and sketch it.
“New, indeed, and splendid too,” he exclaimed enthusiastically, leaping off his mule. “You can go shoot squirrels or bears if you like, Joe, but here I remain for the next three or four hours.”
As Frank had been in the habit of treating his friend thus almost every day since starting on their tour, he was quite prepared for it; smiled knowingly, ordered the vaquero to tether the mules and accompany him into the forest, and then, taking his bearings with a small pocket-compass, and critically inspecting the sun, and a huge pinchbeck watch which was the faithful companion of his wanderings, he shouldered his gun and went off, leaving the enthusiastic painter to revel in the glories of the landscape.
And truly magnificent the scenery was. They had wandered by that time far from the diggings, and were involved in all the grandeur of the primeval wilderness. Stupendous mountains, capped with snow, surrounded the beautiful valley through which they were travelling, and herbage of the richest description clothed the ground, while some of the trees were so large that many of the giant oaks of old England would have appeared small beside them. Some of the precipices of the valley were fully three thousand feet high, without a break from top to bottom, and the mountain-ranges in the background must have been at least as high again. Large tracts of the low grounds were covered with wild oats and rich grasses; affording excellent pasturage to the deer, which could be seen roving about in herds. Lakes of various sizes were alive with waterfowl, whose shrill and plaintive cries filled the air with wild melody. A noble river coursed throughout the entire length of the valley, and its banks were clothed with oaks, cypresses, and chestnuts, while, up on the mountain sides, firs of truly gigantic size reared their straight stems above the surrounding trees with an air of towering magnificence, which gave them indisputable right to be considered the aristocracy of those grand solitudes.
Of these firs Frank observed one so magnificent that, although anxious to begin work without delay, he could not resist the desire to examine it closely. Laying down his book and pencil he ran towards it, and stood for some time in silent amazement, feeling that he was indeed in the presence of the Queen of the Forest. It was a pine which towered to a height of certainly not less than three hundred and sixty feet, and, after careful measurement, was found to be ninety-three feet in circumference. In regarding this tree as the Queen, Frank was doubly correct, for the natives styled it the “Mother of the Forest.” The bark of it, to the height of a hundred and sixteen feet, was, in after years, carried to England, and built up in its original form in the Crystal Palace of Sydenham. It was unfortunately destroyed in the great fire which a few years ago consumed a large part of that magnificent building.
But this was not the only wonderful sight that was seen that day. After Frank had finished his drawing, and added it to a portfolio which was already well filled, he fired a shot to recall his nautical comrade and the vaquero. They soon rejoined him, and, continuing their journey, came to a waterfall which, in some respects, excelled that of the far-famed Niagara itself.
It had sounded like murmuring thunder in their ears the greater part of that day, and as they approached it the voice of its roar became so deafening that they were prepared for something unusually grand, but not for the stupendous sight and sound that burst upon them when, on turning round the base of a towering precipice, they came suddenly in full view of one of the most wonderful of the Creator’s works in that land.
A succession of wall-like mountains rose in two tiers before them into the clouds. Some of the lower clouds floated far below the highest peaks. From the summit of the highest range, a river, equal to the Thames at Richmond, dropt sheer down a precipice of more than two thousand feet. Here it met the summit of the lower mountain-range, on which it burst with a deep-toned sullen roar, comparable only to eternal thunder. A white cloud of spray received the falling river in its soft embrace, and sent it forth again, turbulent and foam-bespeckled, towards its second leap,—another thousand feet,—into the plain below. The entire height of this fall was above three thousand feet!
Our hero was of course anxious to make a careful drawing of it, but having already exhausted the greater part of the day, he was fain to content himself with a sketch, after making which they pushed rapidly forward, and encamped for the night, still within sight and sound of the mighty fall.
“D’you know, Joe,” said Frank, leaning back against a tree stem, as he gazed meditatively into into the fire after supper was concluded, “it has often struck me that men are very foolish for not taking full possession of the splendid world in which they have been placed.”
Frank paused a few moments, but the observation not being sufficiently definite for Joe, who was deep in the enjoyment of his first pipe, no reply was made beyond an interjectional “h’m.”
“Just look around you,” pursued Frank, waving his hand towards the landscape, “at this magnificent country; what timber, what soil, what an amount of game, what lakes, what rivers, what facilities for farming, manufacturing, fishing,—everything, in fact, that is calculated to gladden the heart of man.”
“Includin’ gold,” suggested Joe.
“Including gold,” assented Frank; and there it all lies—has lain since creation—hundreds of thousands of acres of splendid landunoccupied.
“Ha! there’s a screw loose somewhere,” said Joe, taking the pipe from his lips and looking at it earnestly, as if the remark were addressed to it, “somethin’ out o’ j’int—a plank started, so to speak—cer’nly.”
“No doubt of it,” said Frank; “and the broad acres which we now look upon, as well as those over which we have lately travelled, are as nothing compared with the other waste but fertile lands in America, on which hundreds of thousands of the human race might live happily. Yet, strange to say, men seem to prefer congregating together in little worlds of brick, stone, and mortar, living tier upon tier above each other’s heads, breathing noxious gases instead of the scent of flowers, treading upon mud, stone, and dust, instead of green grass, and dwelling under a sky of smoke instead of bright blue ether—and this, too, in the face of the Bible command to ‘go forth and replenish the earth.’”
“Yes, there’s great room,” said Joe, “for the settin’ up of a gin’ral enlightenment an’ universal emigration society, but I raither think it wouldn’t pay.”
“I know it wouldn’t, but why not?” demanded Frank.
“Ah, why not?” repeated Joe.
As neither of them appeared to be able to answer the question, they both remained for some time in a profound reverie, Frank gazing as he was wont to do into the fire, and Joe staring through smoke of his own creation at the vaquero, who reclined on the opposite side of the fire enjoying the tobacco to the full by letting it puff slowly out at his nose as well as his mouth.
“Joe,” said Frank.
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Joe with nautical promptitude.
“I have been thinking a good deal about our affairs of late, and have come to the conclusion that the sooner we go home the better.”
“My notions pre-cisely.”
“Moreover,” continued Frank, “I think that we have come far enough in this direction, and that it would be a good plan to return to Bigbear Gully by a different route from that by which we came here, and thus have an opportunity of seeing some of the other parts of the diggings. What say you to that?”
“I’m agreeable,” answered Joe.
“Well then, shall we decide to commence our return journey to-morrow?”
“By all means. Down wi’ the helm, ’bout ship an’ lay our course on another tack by daylight,” said Joe, shaking the ashes out of his pipe with the slow unwilling air of a man who knows that he has had enough but is loath to give up; “I always like to set sail by daylight. It makes one feel up to the mark so to speak, as if one had lost none of the day, and I suppose,” he added with a sigh which resolved itself into a yawn, “that if we means to start so bright an’ early the sooner we tumble in the better.”
“True,” said Frank, whose mouth irresistibly followed the example of Joe’s, “I think it will be as well to turn in.”
There was a quiet, easy-going lowness in the speech and motions of the two friends, which showed that they were just in a state of readiness to fall into the arms of the drowsy god. They rolled themselves in their blankets, placed their rifles by their sides, their heads on their saddles, and their feet to the fire.
Joe Graddy’s breathing proclaimed that he had succumbed at once, but Frank lay for a considerable time winking owlishly at the stars, which returned him the compliment with interest by twinkling at him through the branches of the overhanging trees.
Early next morning they arose, remounted their mules and turned back, diverging, according to arrangement, from their former track, and making for a particular part of the diggings where Frank had been given to understand there were many subjects of interest for his pencil. We would fain linger by the way to describe much of what they saw, but the limits of our space require that we should hasten onward, and transport the reader at once to a place named the Great Cañon, which, being a very singular locality, and peculiarly rich in gold, merits description.
It was a gloomy gap or gorge—a sort of gigantic split in the earth—lying between two parallel ranges of hills at a depth of several hundred feet, shaped like a wedge, and so narrow below that there was barely standing room. The gold all lay at the bottom, the slopes being too steep to afford it a resting-place.
The first diggers who went there were said to have gathered vast quantities of gold; and when Frank and Joe arrived there was quite enough to repay hard work liberally. The miners did not work in companies there. Indeed, the form of the chasm did not admit of operations on a large scale being carried on at any one place. Most of the men worked singly with the pan, and used large bowie-knives with which they picked gold from the crevices of the rocks in the bed of the stream, or scratched the gravelly soil from the roots of the overhanging trees, which were usually rich in deposits. The gorge, about four miles in extent, presented one continuous string of men in single file, all eagerly picking up gold, and admitting that in this work they were unusually successful.
But these poor fellows paid a heavy price for the precious metal in the loss of health, the air being very bad, as no refreshing breezes could reach them at the bottom of the gloomy defile.
The gold at that place was found both in very large and very small grains, and was mixed with quantities of fine black sand, which the miners blew off from it somewhat carelessly—most of them being “green hands,” and anxious to get at the gold as quickly as possible. This carelessness on their part was somewhat cleverly taken advantage of by a keen old fellow who chanced to enter the hut of a miner when Frank and Joe were there. He had a bag on his back and a humorous twinkle in his eye.
“Well, old foxey, what doyouwant?” asked the owner of the hut, who happened to be blowing off the sand from a heap of his gold at the time.
“Sure it’s only a little sand I want,” said the man, in a brogue which betrayed his origin.
“Sand, Paddy, what for?”
“For emery, sure,” said the man, with a very rueful look; “troth it’s myself as is gittin’ too owld entirely for the diggin’s. I was a broth of a boy wance, but what wid dysentery and rheumatiz there’s little or nothin’ o’ me left, so I’m obleeged to contint myself wid gatherin’ the black sand, and sellin’ it as a substitute for emery.”
“Well, that is a queer dodge,” said the miner, with a laugh.
“True for ye, itisquare, but it’s what I’m redooced to, so av you’ll be so kind as plaze to blow the sand on to this here tray, it’ll be doin’ a poor man a good turn, an’ costin’ ye nothin’.”
He held up a tin tray as he spoke, and the miner cheerfully blew the sand off his gold-dust on to it.
Thanking him with all the fervour peculiar to his race, the Irishman emptied the sand into his bag, and heaving a heavy sigh, left the hut to request a similar favour of other miners.
“You may depend on it,” said Frank, as the old man went out, “that fellow is humbugging you. It is gold, not sand, that he wants.”
“That’s a fact,” said Joe Graddy, with an emphatic nod and wink.
“Nonsense,” said the miner, “I don’t believe we lose more than a few specks in blowing off the sand—certainly nothing worth speaking of.”
The man was wrong in this, however, for it was afterwards discovered that the sly old fellow carried his black sand to his hut, and there, every night, by the agency of quicksilver, he extracted from the sand double the average of gold obtained by the hardest working miner in the Cañon!
At each end of this place there was a hut made of calico stretched on a frame of wood, in which were sold brandy and other strong liquors of the most abominable kind, at a charge of about two shillings for a small glass! Cards were also to be found there by those who wished to gamble away their hard-earned gains or double them. Places of iniquity these, which abounded everywhere throughout the diggings, and were the nightly resort of hundreds of diggers, and the scene of their wildest orgies on the Sabbath-day.
Leaving the Great Cañon, our travellers—we might almost term them inspectors—came to a creek one raw, wet morning, where a large number of miners where at work. Here they resolved to spend the day, and test the nature of the ground. Accordingly, the vaquero was directed to look after the mules while Frank and Joe went to work with pick, shovel, and pan.
They took the “dirt” from a steep incline considerably above the winter level of the stream, in a stratum of hard bluish clay, almost as hard as rock, with a slight surface-covering of earth. It yielded prodigiously. At night they found that they had washed out gold to the value of forty pounds sterling! The particles of gold were all large, many being the size of a grain of corn, with occasional nuggets intermixed, besides quartz amalgamations.
“If this had been my first experience o’ them there diggin’s,” said Joe Graddy, as he smoked his pipe that night in the chief gambling and drinking store of the place, “I would have said our fortin wos made, all but. Hows’ever, I don’t forget that the last pair o’ boots I got cost me four pound, an’ the last glass o’ brandy two shillin’s—not to speak o’ death cuttin’ an’ carvin’ all round, an’ the rainy season a-comin’ on, so it’s my advice that we ’bout ship for home as soon as may be.”
“I agree with you, Joe,” said Frank, “and I really don’t think I would exchange the pleasure I have derived from journeying through this land, and sketching the scenery, for all the gold it contains. Nevertheless I would not like to be tempted with the offer of such an exchange!—Now, I’ll turn in.”
Next morning the rain continued to pour incessantly, and Frank Allfrey had given the order to get ready for a start, when a loud shouting near the hut in which they had slept induced them to run out. A band of men were hurrying toward the tavern with great haste and much gesticulation, dragging a man in the midst of them, who struggled and protested violently.
Frank saw at a glance that the prisoner was his former companion Bradling, and that one of the men who held him was the stranger who had been so badly wounded by him at the camp-fire, as formerly related.
On reaching the tavern, in front of which grew a large oak-tree—one of the limbs of which was much chafed as if by the sawing of a rope against it—the stranger, whose comrades called him Dick, stood up on a stump, and said—
“I tell you what it is, mates, I’m as sure that he did it as I am of my own existence. The man met his death at the hands of this murderer Bradling; ha! he knows his own name, you see! He is an escaped convict.”
“And what are you?” said Bradling, turning on him bitterly.
“That is no man’s business, so long as I hurt nobody,” cried Dick passionately. “I tell you,” he continued, addressing the crowd, which had quickly assembled, “I found this fellow skulking in the bush close to where the body was found, and I know he did it, because he all but murdered me not many months ago, and there,” he continued, with a look of surprise, pointing straight at our hero, “is a man who can swear to the truth of what I say!”
All eyes were at once turned on Frank, who stepped forward, and said—
“I can certainly testify to the fact that this man Bradling did attempt to shoot the man whom you call Dick, but I know nothing about the murder which seems to have been perpetrated here, and—”
“It’s a young feller as was a quiet harmless sort o’ critter,” said one of the bystanders, “who was found dead under a bush this morning with his skull smashed in; and it’s my opinion, gentlemen, that, since this stranger has sworn to the fact that Bradling tried to murder Dick, he should swing for it.”
“I protest, gentlemen,” said Frank energetically, “that I did notswearat all! I did not evensaythat Bradling tried to murder anybody: on the contrary, I think the way in which the man Dick handled his gun at the time when Bradling fired was very susp—”
A shout from the crowd drowned the remainder of this speech.
“String him up without more ado,” cried several voices.
Three men at once seized Bradling, and a rope was quickly flung over the bough of the oak.
“Mercy! mercy!” cried the unhappy man, “I swear that I did not murder the man. I have made my pile down at Bigbear Gully, and I’ll give it all—every cent—if you will wait to have the matter examined. Stay,” he added, seeing that they paid no heed to him, “let me speak one word, before I die, with Mr Allfrey. I want to tell him where my gold lies hid.”
“It’s a dodge,” cried one of the executioners with a sneer, “but have your say out. It’s the last you’ll have a chance to say here, so look sharp about it.”
Frank went forward to the man, who was trembling, and very pale, and begged those who held him to move off a few paces.
“Oh! Mr Allfrey,” said Bradling, “I am innocent of this; Iaman escaped convict, it is true, and Ididtry to kill that man Dick, who has given me provocation enough, God knows, but, as He shall be my judge at last, I swear I did not committhismurder. If you will cut the cords that bind my hands, you will prevent a cold-blooded murder being committed now. You saved my life once before. Oh! save it again.”
The man said all this in a hurried whisper, but there was something so intensely earnest and truthful in his bearing that Frank, under a sudden and irresistible impulse, which he could not afterwards account for, drew his knife and cut the cords that bound him.
Instantly Bradling bounded away like a hunted deer, overturning several men in his flight, and being followed by a perfect storm of bullets from rifles and revolvers, until he had disappeared in the neighbouring wood. Then the miners turned with fury on Frank, but paused abruptly on seeing that he and Joe Graddy stood back to back, with a revolver in each hand.
Of course revolvers and rifles were instantly pointed at them, but fortunately the miners in their exasperation had discharged all their fire-arms at Bradling—not a piece remained loaded!
Several therefore commenced hurriedly to re-load, but Frank shouted, in a voice that there was no misunderstanding—
“The first who attempts to load is a dead man!”
This caused them to hesitate, for in those times men, when desperate, were wont to be more prompt to act than to threaten. Still, there were some present who would have run the risk, and it is certain that our hero and his friend would have then and there terminated their career, had not a backwoods hunter stepped forward and said:
“Well now, ye air makin’ a pretty noise ’bout nothin’! See here, I know that feller Bradling well.Hedidn’t kill the man. It was a Redskin as did it; I came up in time to see him do it, and killed the Redskin afore he could get away. In proof whereof here is his gun, an’ you’ll find his carcase under the bank where the murder was committed, if ye’ve a mind to look for it. But Bradlingisa murderer. I knows him of old, an’ so, although he’s innocent of this partikler murder, I didn’t see no occasion to try to prevent him gittin’ his desarts. It’s another matter, hows’ever, when you’re goin’ to scrag the men as let him off. If ye’ll take the advice of an old hunter as knows a thing or two, you’ll go to work on yer claims slick off, for the rains are comin’ on, and they will pull ye up sharp, I guess. You’ll make hay while the sun shines if you’re wise.”
The opportune interference of this hunter saved Frank and Joe, who, after thanking their deliverer, were not slow to mount their mules and hasten back to Bigbear Gully, resolved more firmly than ever to wind up their affairs, and bid a final adieu to the diggings.