Story 1—Chapter VI.Minturne Creek.When theSusan Jane’sanchor was dropped, and the longshore men came on board to unload cargo, the little party of Mr Rawlings’ followers went on shore, drew their pay, and took their discharge; and then, after a few days’ stay, took rail for Chicago, where Mr Rawlings was to join them, to make the final preparations for their start to the Far West.They reached Chicago before the “Boss,” as they called Mr Rawlings, as that gentleman had several business arrangements to make in New York.At Chicago, Seth met an old western friend of his, Noah Webster, who had just returned from a mining expedition in Arizona.After much talk of their Californian days, Seth told him that he was going as lieutenant to an English gentleman who was getting up a mining expedition to Dakota.“I want eight or ten good miners, afraid neither of work nor Indians.”“What pay?” Noah asked laconically.“Two dollars a day each, and all grub; double to you, Noah, if you will get a good gang together and come with us.”“It’s a bargain,” said Noah. “I could put my hand on twenty good men to-morrow; half of ’em were out with me. I will pick you ten of the best. And they ought to be that, for it will be no child’s play; the Injins of Dakota are snakes upon miners.”Seth had received full authority from Mr Rawlings to engage a strong party, and the “Boss” was greatly pleased upon his arrival to find that a band of stalwart and experienced miners had already been collected.Previous to quitting Chicago, Mr Rawlings, acting under the advice of Seth and Noah Webster, purchased a complete outfit of mining tools, and stores of all kinds: picks, drills, pumps, buckets, windlasses, ropes—and, indeed, everything that would be required in carrying out their undertaking properly.They did not overburden themselves, however, with provisions, or any such things as they would be likely to get cheap in the back settlements at the end of the point where they would have to leave the railway—not far off the town of Bismark, on the Missouri, the extremest station of the northern branch of the Union Pacific line.And so, one fine morning, they started, full of hope, for some wonderful accounts were in circulation before they set out from Chicago, as to the enormous finds of the Excelsior mine and other kindred speculations in or near Dakota.Passing over their railroad journey, during which nothing of interest occurred worthy of notice, and their temporary stay in the last frontier town—to lay in a stock of provisions, and hire teams and waggons for the transport of their mining plant and general belongings; besides engaging a half-breed Indian to guide them to their destination, a copper-coloured gentleman who had lived for years in New Mexico, and spoke a broken Spanish patter which he called “Ingliz,” and was afterwards a faithful member of the expeditionary party—we will come to the period when, after a month’s march across the wilds of north-western Dakota, they had arrived at the place which “Moose,” the Indian half-breed, declared with a multitude of“carramboes!” was the spot which had been indicated on the map which Mr Rawlings had received from his cousin.“Waal, boys, this is bully!” exclaimed Seth, as soon as the party had come to a halt, gazing round him with the air of a landlord taking possession of his property.The scene was a beautiful one, and well merited the seaman’s exclamation.They were in the centre of a vast semicircular valley, surrounded on all sides but one by a chain of mountains, over which one especial peak towered far above the rest, lifting up a crest that was crowned with eternal snow and formed a landmark for miles away.Into this valley, which appeared to be the general watershed of the district, ran several small streams, that united in the middle of it in one deep gulch, which overflowed in winter with a foaming torrent—although there was now little or no water, and the grass and shrubs around seemed parched and withered for want of moisture. The “location,” however, was a pleasant one, possessing all the proper requisites for a stationary camp such as they contemplated; for, within hand-reach they could have wood, water, and forage for their baggage animals. The teams they had hired were at once unloaded and started back to the settlement, but there remained with them twelve pack-mules, which Mr Rawlings had purchased in order to have means of sending down for provisions whenever required.Gold mining, it may be mentioned, is almost if not quite as precarious as that of silver. The former metal is found over a very extensive tract of country in California west of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, while silver is found in Nevada, Utah, and in fact over a vast expanse of country stretching almost down to the south of Mexico. Silver seldom is found in a lode extending with any great regularity. The lode, indeed, may be traced for long distances, but whereas one mine may be fabulously rich, those lying on the lode on either side of it may not find enough gold to pay expenses. It lies, in fact, in great “pockets,” as English miners would call them, or in “bonanzas,” as they are termed in Nevada. So long as these pockets last a mine will pay enormously; when they are cleared out it becomes worthless, as English shareholders in these mines have often found to their cost. In “Mineral Hill” and the “Emma” hundreds of thousand pounds’ worth of ore were taken out in a few months, and then the mines were not worth working.East of the Rocky Mountains, in Colorado and Dakota, gold is found as well as silver. It is found in quartz veins, and wherever there is quartz, some, although often an almost infinitesimally small amount of gold, is found; while in other places patches of quartz are struck containing immensely rich deposits of the precious metal.No search was made for the exact spot indicated on the map, so long as the teamsters who had brought up the mining’ stores remained. These believed that it was a mere exploring party, and although they wondered at the quantity of mining materials brought up, they had put this down to the folly of the “Britisher” who had organised the party!When the mining party alone remained, a diligent search was at once begun for the shaft which had been sunk. This they knew was near the river.Three days were spent and no signs of the shaft were discovered, when Seth came across a short stump of charred wood at the edge of the river bed.He led Mr Rawlings and Noah Webster to the spot, and they agreed that this was probably the site upon which the dwelling-house had stood.“The river, you see, has changed its course a bit,” Noah said. “These streams come down in big floods in winter, and carry all before them, often changing their beds. If it came across the mouth of the shaft it would fill it up with boulders and gravel in five minutes. Waal, what we’ve got to look for is a filled-up hole hereabouts. Mostly, the rock lies just under the surface gravel, so if we get crowbars and thrust down we shall find it sure enough.”A few hours’ search, now that the clue was obtained, led to the discovery of the lost shaft. The lode was now traced extending either way, and as it was at once agreed that it would not do to commence another so near the river, a place was fixed upon a hundred yards back from the old shaft, and the whole of the stores and tools were removed to this spot.Then the whole force set to to get up a large hut of galvanised iron, which they had brought, with its framework, from Chicago.Timber is sometimes scarce in these regions, and it would not have done to have relied upon it. The hut contained a large general room where all would take their meals together, a store-room, a bed-room for the men, and a smaller one for Mr Rawlings, Seth, Noah, and Sailor Bill. A small “lean-to” as a kitchen was erected against the hut, and layers of coarse turf, eighteen inches thick, were built up against the outer wall all round for additional protection, as the winter would be bitterly cold, and a great thickness of material would be required to resist its inclemency.There was an equal partition of labour. The black cook took possession of his kitchen, Jasper was to act as general attendant, and Seth assumed the position of manager of the works, with Noah Webster under him as deputy, while the men were divided into three gangs, each of which would work eight hours a day at the work of sinking the shaft.
When theSusan Jane’sanchor was dropped, and the longshore men came on board to unload cargo, the little party of Mr Rawlings’ followers went on shore, drew their pay, and took their discharge; and then, after a few days’ stay, took rail for Chicago, where Mr Rawlings was to join them, to make the final preparations for their start to the Far West.
They reached Chicago before the “Boss,” as they called Mr Rawlings, as that gentleman had several business arrangements to make in New York.
At Chicago, Seth met an old western friend of his, Noah Webster, who had just returned from a mining expedition in Arizona.
After much talk of their Californian days, Seth told him that he was going as lieutenant to an English gentleman who was getting up a mining expedition to Dakota.
“I want eight or ten good miners, afraid neither of work nor Indians.”
“What pay?” Noah asked laconically.
“Two dollars a day each, and all grub; double to you, Noah, if you will get a good gang together and come with us.”
“It’s a bargain,” said Noah. “I could put my hand on twenty good men to-morrow; half of ’em were out with me. I will pick you ten of the best. And they ought to be that, for it will be no child’s play; the Injins of Dakota are snakes upon miners.”
Seth had received full authority from Mr Rawlings to engage a strong party, and the “Boss” was greatly pleased upon his arrival to find that a band of stalwart and experienced miners had already been collected.
Previous to quitting Chicago, Mr Rawlings, acting under the advice of Seth and Noah Webster, purchased a complete outfit of mining tools, and stores of all kinds: picks, drills, pumps, buckets, windlasses, ropes—and, indeed, everything that would be required in carrying out their undertaking properly.
They did not overburden themselves, however, with provisions, or any such things as they would be likely to get cheap in the back settlements at the end of the point where they would have to leave the railway—not far off the town of Bismark, on the Missouri, the extremest station of the northern branch of the Union Pacific line.
And so, one fine morning, they started, full of hope, for some wonderful accounts were in circulation before they set out from Chicago, as to the enormous finds of the Excelsior mine and other kindred speculations in or near Dakota.
Passing over their railroad journey, during which nothing of interest occurred worthy of notice, and their temporary stay in the last frontier town—to lay in a stock of provisions, and hire teams and waggons for the transport of their mining plant and general belongings; besides engaging a half-breed Indian to guide them to their destination, a copper-coloured gentleman who had lived for years in New Mexico, and spoke a broken Spanish patter which he called “Ingliz,” and was afterwards a faithful member of the expeditionary party—we will come to the period when, after a month’s march across the wilds of north-western Dakota, they had arrived at the place which “Moose,” the Indian half-breed, declared with a multitude of“carramboes!” was the spot which had been indicated on the map which Mr Rawlings had received from his cousin.
“Waal, boys, this is bully!” exclaimed Seth, as soon as the party had come to a halt, gazing round him with the air of a landlord taking possession of his property.
The scene was a beautiful one, and well merited the seaman’s exclamation.
They were in the centre of a vast semicircular valley, surrounded on all sides but one by a chain of mountains, over which one especial peak towered far above the rest, lifting up a crest that was crowned with eternal snow and formed a landmark for miles away.
Into this valley, which appeared to be the general watershed of the district, ran several small streams, that united in the middle of it in one deep gulch, which overflowed in winter with a foaming torrent—although there was now little or no water, and the grass and shrubs around seemed parched and withered for want of moisture. The “location,” however, was a pleasant one, possessing all the proper requisites for a stationary camp such as they contemplated; for, within hand-reach they could have wood, water, and forage for their baggage animals. The teams they had hired were at once unloaded and started back to the settlement, but there remained with them twelve pack-mules, which Mr Rawlings had purchased in order to have means of sending down for provisions whenever required.
Gold mining, it may be mentioned, is almost if not quite as precarious as that of silver. The former metal is found over a very extensive tract of country in California west of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, while silver is found in Nevada, Utah, and in fact over a vast expanse of country stretching almost down to the south of Mexico. Silver seldom is found in a lode extending with any great regularity. The lode, indeed, may be traced for long distances, but whereas one mine may be fabulously rich, those lying on the lode on either side of it may not find enough gold to pay expenses. It lies, in fact, in great “pockets,” as English miners would call them, or in “bonanzas,” as they are termed in Nevada. So long as these pockets last a mine will pay enormously; when they are cleared out it becomes worthless, as English shareholders in these mines have often found to their cost. In “Mineral Hill” and the “Emma” hundreds of thousand pounds’ worth of ore were taken out in a few months, and then the mines were not worth working.
East of the Rocky Mountains, in Colorado and Dakota, gold is found as well as silver. It is found in quartz veins, and wherever there is quartz, some, although often an almost infinitesimally small amount of gold, is found; while in other places patches of quartz are struck containing immensely rich deposits of the precious metal.
No search was made for the exact spot indicated on the map, so long as the teamsters who had brought up the mining’ stores remained. These believed that it was a mere exploring party, and although they wondered at the quantity of mining materials brought up, they had put this down to the folly of the “Britisher” who had organised the party!
When the mining party alone remained, a diligent search was at once begun for the shaft which had been sunk. This they knew was near the river.
Three days were spent and no signs of the shaft were discovered, when Seth came across a short stump of charred wood at the edge of the river bed.
He led Mr Rawlings and Noah Webster to the spot, and they agreed that this was probably the site upon which the dwelling-house had stood.
“The river, you see, has changed its course a bit,” Noah said. “These streams come down in big floods in winter, and carry all before them, often changing their beds. If it came across the mouth of the shaft it would fill it up with boulders and gravel in five minutes. Waal, what we’ve got to look for is a filled-up hole hereabouts. Mostly, the rock lies just under the surface gravel, so if we get crowbars and thrust down we shall find it sure enough.”
A few hours’ search, now that the clue was obtained, led to the discovery of the lost shaft. The lode was now traced extending either way, and as it was at once agreed that it would not do to commence another so near the river, a place was fixed upon a hundred yards back from the old shaft, and the whole of the stores and tools were removed to this spot.
Then the whole force set to to get up a large hut of galvanised iron, which they had brought, with its framework, from Chicago.
Timber is sometimes scarce in these regions, and it would not have done to have relied upon it. The hut contained a large general room where all would take their meals together, a store-room, a bed-room for the men, and a smaller one for Mr Rawlings, Seth, Noah, and Sailor Bill. A small “lean-to” as a kitchen was erected against the hut, and layers of coarse turf, eighteen inches thick, were built up against the outer wall all round for additional protection, as the winter would be bitterly cold, and a great thickness of material would be required to resist its inclemency.
There was an equal partition of labour. The black cook took possession of his kitchen, Jasper was to act as general attendant, and Seth assumed the position of manager of the works, with Noah Webster under him as deputy, while the men were divided into three gangs, each of which would work eight hours a day at the work of sinking the shaft.
Story 1—Chapter VII.Fighting the Elements.The miners at Minturne Creek had a hard time of it, and their life was monotonous enough after they had settled down to work in earnest.Winter came—the stern hard winter that can only be experienced to the full in the northern regions of the Far West, backed up seemingly by all the powers of nature—to try and cramp the energies of the party, and arrest their labours; but, neither the severity of the weather, nor the languor which the excessive frigidity of the atmosphere produced—although it sent them to sleep of a night after their day’s toil, without the necessity of an opiate—were sufficient to deter them from their purpose.Winter passed by, and still they worked on steadily, notwithstanding that as yet they had met with no substantial success to encourage them, hoping, however, that they had surmounted the gravest part of their undertaking. Spring arrived, and their hopes of an easy season of it were demolished in an instant; for the snow melted on the hills, and the ice melted in the valley, and the iron bands of the river were broken, causing a foaming torrent to dash through the gulch—a torrent that swelled each hour with the fresh accretions of water from the higher rocks, and, spreading wide in the valley, threatened to annihilate the whole party, as well as the results of their handiwork during the past months of bitter toil.The very elements warred against them; but, under the noble example of their indomitable leader, whom nothing appeared to dishearten, they braved the elements, and were not discouraged.The torrent grew into a flood, tossing huge rocks about as if they were corks, and swelled and foamed around the dam they laboriously raised when the floods began, to protect the shaft; but they fought the newly created flood with its own weapons, hurling buttresses at it to support their artificial embankment, in return for its rocks, and pointing the very weapons of the enemy against itself.They had not to contend with water alone.The winds, let loose apparently by the thawing of the huge glaciers by which they were confined in the cavernous recesses of the mountain peaks, stormed down into the valley, there meeting other and antagonistic currents of air coming up the canon—and met and fought, relentless giants that they were, on the neutral ground of the miners’ camp, tearing off the iron sheets of their house, and sending them flying away on the wings of the storm to goodness knows where. Still, the hardy adventurers would not be beaten; but fought the wind, as they had fought the water.Spreading buffalo skins over their unroofed cabin to keep out the wet, they piled on them rocks and timber that they had kept in reserve for service in the mine, weighing their ends down with some of the ponderous rocks with which the flood had assailed them—so making a temporary provision against the weather until they should be able to build their log shanty afresh.By these means the winds were conquered, stopping their onslaught presently and making a truce, which in time was lengthened into a treaty. But it was a mighty battle while it lasted; a fight of the Titans with the gods; man opposed to nature; the material to the immaterial—self-reliant, well-husbanded, carefully-applied strength matched against purposeless force.Man does not generally win in such contests, but did in this instance. The powers of the water and air were powerless against a systematic resistance, and were compelled to succumb. The miners suffered, certainly—who comes out of a fray scathless? But they were victorious; and being such, could at last laugh at their losses. Beyond, also, the consciousness of having fought a successful fight, they were encouraged by the certainty that they had met and encountered with success the extremity of peril to which they would be subjected; and that thenceforth Nature could only be a passive enemy to them, with no terrors now to daunt them with, albeit she struggled against them still in the bowels of the earth, that refused as yet to give up those hidden riches which they were confident were there. Refuse? Ay, but only for a time; they would, in the end, conquer that refusal, as they had met and overcome nature’s more active opposition!Their house was in ruins; their provisions mostly spoilt by the elements they had battled—fire had only been wanting to complete the sum of their calamities; whilst the staging around their mine-shaft was broken down and tons of water upon tons poured down the embouchure.They reviewed their position, and grasped its salient points, not a single faint heart among them:—hope, trust, energy, made them think and act as one man.There was the iron hut and shanty to rebuild, the mine-shaft and its supports to repair, the dam to mend and remake in its weaker places, the mine to pump out.Thus they thought; and, what is more, they acted upon the thought. Some men think, and others work. They did both; and, through their strenuous efforts, ere the early buds of spring had given a palpable green tinge to the shrubs and trees that clothed the slopes of the hills and dotted the valley of Minturne Creek here and there, or the snow had quite vanished from the topmost mountain peaks, and the river that ran through the gulch subsided down into its proper proportions, all traces of the storm ravages had been cleared away, and the snug little camp of the Boston exploring party looked itself again, “as neat and trim as a new pin, I reckon!” as Seth Allport said.The miners themselves allowed, however, that the victory might not have been theirs had they not had the assistance of a visitor—and that a most unexpected one, as the spring was not sufficiently advanced to have cleared away all the snow from the back track to the settlements and made the roads passable, so as to allow the diggers to return to their claims on the hills.Strangers are rare birds amongst the squatters out West, and are generally regarded with much suspicion by travellers on the prairies and in the mountain fastnesses.The rougher part of the restoration of the camp belongings having been accomplished and not so many hands being now required for the further repairs needed, while the day was especially fine and suggestive of “sport,” the hunters were out on the hills, under the leadership of Mr Rawlings, who had proved himself by this time one of the best shots in camp.There were other reasons for the hunters’ activity besides the fact of the day being fine and signs of sport apparent.“The hull crowd, from the Boss down to Sailor Bill, who wouldn’t say nay if he could kinder express himself,” as the ex-mate observed before the setting out of the expedition—“were dog-tired of pork and fixin’s,”—and their stomachs craved after game, or fresh meat of any sort.Besides their having lived through the whole of the winter on salt pork, it had not been improved in quality by its contact with the flood-water that had submerged their cabin at one time; but, whether damaged or not, it must be acknowledged that even to the most easy-going and contented palate, a never-varying diet of fried pork and damper cakes—that resembled somewhat the unleavened bread of the Israelites in their passage through the wilderness—will prove somewhat wearying and monotonous in the long run! Thus, their anxiety for some change in their food can only be realised by those who have been compelled to live on salt provisions for any length of time.Signs of sport, as has been already mentioned, were apparent enough; for traces of deer had been discovered by the Indian half-breed in the early morning, leading from the bank of the river as it entered the canon below the camp from the hills; and thus, therefore, it was with all the eagerness of semi-starving; men that the best shots of the party were picked out at once, and despatched to follow up the trail of the game; the others who remained behind going on with the rebuilding with all the greater ardour through the prospect of an unwontedly good dinner before them—that is, should the hunters prove successful.Along with Mr Rawlings was Noah Webster, who was a better hunter almost than he was a miner; Moose, the half-breed Indian, and Josh the cook—Jasper stopping behind by the express orders of Seth, although he was madly jealous at his brother-darkey being preferred before him.Upwards and onwards, through the scrub and brushwood and budding branches of trees, struggling over the trunks of fallen monarchs of the forest, that had been rooted up by the wind or struck down by lightning, and lay across their path, over rough volcanic rocks, and through ravines that trickled down tiny streams to swell the river below, they made their way slowly and tediously towards the probable lair of the deer, as the traces of their antlered prey grew fresher and more distinct every step, the slot being sometimes plainly visible in the moist soil, although for all they could otherwise see and hear they might be as far off from the wished-for prize as ever.Presently, as they were emerging from a thicker growth of brushwood than they had yet passed through, they noticed, to their joy, right in front of them, feeding on a small grassy plateau under the lee of a jutting cliff, a head of what the Indian half-breed immediately declared to be a species of ibex, or mountain-sheep, that are commonly met with amid the peaks of the Rocky Mountains and its chains, far from the haunts of civilisation and men. It was only owing, indeed, to the fact that the hill diggers were away in the settlements, and from the scarcity of forage in their more secluded retreats, that they had approached so near to the miners’ camp.Caution was now the order of the day; and, Mr Rawlings still leading, with the Indian next him, and then the others one after the other in file, Josh proudly bringing up the rear, they stepped forwards with the utmost care, keeping the wind in their faces so that they should not be betrayed by the scent of their clothing reaching the timid animals, to do which, they had to execute a considerable détour, and take advantage of every chance of cover.By degrees, they gradually got within a fair range of about eighty yards—for, although long-distance shooting may be very nice as a test of shooting at the Wimbledon targets, it is quite a different matter when your dinner depends on the success of your shot; for, with that consideration in view, even the surest of marksmen likes to get within easy reach of his game.Mr Rawlings and Noah Webster, the two best shots of the party, levelled their rifles together—after a brief nod from the Indian half-breed which seemed to say “Now’s your time”—and fired simultaneously, aiming at two of the wild sheep.At the very moment they did so, the report of a third shot was heard, that seemed like the echo of their own double discharge, pinging through the keen rarefied air; and when the smoke had cleared off, and the reverberations of the sound had died away, rolling in fainter and fainter waves amongst the mountain hollows in the distance, three of the sheep were observed to be stretched lifeless on the plateau where they had been so recently feeding in peace, while the remainder of the flock were bounding away from peak to peak, seeking refuge in their native fortresses in the crags above.Mr Rawlings did not notice anything unusual at first, as he had not heard the third rifle-shot; but Noah Webster and the half-breed, who were much better accustomed to woodcraft—having had their senses sharpened by dangers which seamen never have to encounter—were alive at once to the perception of something being wrong.“Injuns, I reckon!” muttered Noah Webster under his breath, to which the half-breed growled a characteristic “Ugh,” and the two sank down closer amid the grass, dragging down Mr Rawlings with them, Noah stopping his expostulations by clapping his hand across his mouth, and looking at him warningly, while he motioned to the rest behind them to follow their example.All huddled together in the grass and tangled brushwood, hardly breathing for fear their presence might be discovered by some possible foe, they looked out carefully, awaiting the development of the situation.It was only a minute or two at most, but it appeared hours to one or two, especially to poor Josh, who, in his fright of being scalped by a possible Indian, would have cheerfully given up all his chances of gold in the mine and everything, to have swapped places with the envious Jasper and been safe in camp.The listeners, however, did not have to wait so very long.In a little while they heard the sound of twigs being broken near them, as if some one were making his way through the copse. Soon they could distinguish, in addition, the heavy tramp of footsteps—they sounded as heavy as those of elephants to them, with their ears to the ground—trampling down the thick undergrowth and rotten twigs in the thicket before them; and they could also hear a sort of muttering sound, like that caused by somebody speaking to himself in soliloquy.The situation, if an exciting one, was not of any long duration, for while they were listening the dénouement came.A nondescript-clad figure came out of the brushwood into the open clearing, walking towards the spot where the mountain-sheep lay stretched on the sward, which was partly covered with the snow that remained unmelted under the lee of the cliff; and a voice, without doubt appertaining to the figure, exclaimed in unmistakable English accents—“Well, I’m hanged if I ever heard of such a thing before in my life! I know I am a tidy shot, but if I were to mention this at home they would say I was telling a confounded lie! To think of killing three of those queer creatures at one shot! By Jove, who’d believe it?”The listeners burst into a simultaneous roar of laughter.“It’s only a Britisher!” said Noah Webster; and they all rose from their covert and sallied out into the open, to the intense astonishment of the new-comer, whose surprise was evidently mixed with a proportionate amount of alarm, for he clutched his gun more tightly at the sight of them, and stood apparently on the defensive.
The miners at Minturne Creek had a hard time of it, and their life was monotonous enough after they had settled down to work in earnest.
Winter came—the stern hard winter that can only be experienced to the full in the northern regions of the Far West, backed up seemingly by all the powers of nature—to try and cramp the energies of the party, and arrest their labours; but, neither the severity of the weather, nor the languor which the excessive frigidity of the atmosphere produced—although it sent them to sleep of a night after their day’s toil, without the necessity of an opiate—were sufficient to deter them from their purpose.
Winter passed by, and still they worked on steadily, notwithstanding that as yet they had met with no substantial success to encourage them, hoping, however, that they had surmounted the gravest part of their undertaking. Spring arrived, and their hopes of an easy season of it were demolished in an instant; for the snow melted on the hills, and the ice melted in the valley, and the iron bands of the river were broken, causing a foaming torrent to dash through the gulch—a torrent that swelled each hour with the fresh accretions of water from the higher rocks, and, spreading wide in the valley, threatened to annihilate the whole party, as well as the results of their handiwork during the past months of bitter toil.
The very elements warred against them; but, under the noble example of their indomitable leader, whom nothing appeared to dishearten, they braved the elements, and were not discouraged.
The torrent grew into a flood, tossing huge rocks about as if they were corks, and swelled and foamed around the dam they laboriously raised when the floods began, to protect the shaft; but they fought the newly created flood with its own weapons, hurling buttresses at it to support their artificial embankment, in return for its rocks, and pointing the very weapons of the enemy against itself.
They had not to contend with water alone.
The winds, let loose apparently by the thawing of the huge glaciers by which they were confined in the cavernous recesses of the mountain peaks, stormed down into the valley, there meeting other and antagonistic currents of air coming up the canon—and met and fought, relentless giants that they were, on the neutral ground of the miners’ camp, tearing off the iron sheets of their house, and sending them flying away on the wings of the storm to goodness knows where. Still, the hardy adventurers would not be beaten; but fought the wind, as they had fought the water.
Spreading buffalo skins over their unroofed cabin to keep out the wet, they piled on them rocks and timber that they had kept in reserve for service in the mine, weighing their ends down with some of the ponderous rocks with which the flood had assailed them—so making a temporary provision against the weather until they should be able to build their log shanty afresh.
By these means the winds were conquered, stopping their onslaught presently and making a truce, which in time was lengthened into a treaty. But it was a mighty battle while it lasted; a fight of the Titans with the gods; man opposed to nature; the material to the immaterial—self-reliant, well-husbanded, carefully-applied strength matched against purposeless force.
Man does not generally win in such contests, but did in this instance. The powers of the water and air were powerless against a systematic resistance, and were compelled to succumb. The miners suffered, certainly—who comes out of a fray scathless? But they were victorious; and being such, could at last laugh at their losses. Beyond, also, the consciousness of having fought a successful fight, they were encouraged by the certainty that they had met and encountered with success the extremity of peril to which they would be subjected; and that thenceforth Nature could only be a passive enemy to them, with no terrors now to daunt them with, albeit she struggled against them still in the bowels of the earth, that refused as yet to give up those hidden riches which they were confident were there. Refuse? Ay, but only for a time; they would, in the end, conquer that refusal, as they had met and overcome nature’s more active opposition!
Their house was in ruins; their provisions mostly spoilt by the elements they had battled—fire had only been wanting to complete the sum of their calamities; whilst the staging around their mine-shaft was broken down and tons of water upon tons poured down the embouchure.
They reviewed their position, and grasped its salient points, not a single faint heart among them:—hope, trust, energy, made them think and act as one man.
There was the iron hut and shanty to rebuild, the mine-shaft and its supports to repair, the dam to mend and remake in its weaker places, the mine to pump out.
Thus they thought; and, what is more, they acted upon the thought. Some men think, and others work. They did both; and, through their strenuous efforts, ere the early buds of spring had given a palpable green tinge to the shrubs and trees that clothed the slopes of the hills and dotted the valley of Minturne Creek here and there, or the snow had quite vanished from the topmost mountain peaks, and the river that ran through the gulch subsided down into its proper proportions, all traces of the storm ravages had been cleared away, and the snug little camp of the Boston exploring party looked itself again, “as neat and trim as a new pin, I reckon!” as Seth Allport said.
The miners themselves allowed, however, that the victory might not have been theirs had they not had the assistance of a visitor—and that a most unexpected one, as the spring was not sufficiently advanced to have cleared away all the snow from the back track to the settlements and made the roads passable, so as to allow the diggers to return to their claims on the hills.
Strangers are rare birds amongst the squatters out West, and are generally regarded with much suspicion by travellers on the prairies and in the mountain fastnesses.
The rougher part of the restoration of the camp belongings having been accomplished and not so many hands being now required for the further repairs needed, while the day was especially fine and suggestive of “sport,” the hunters were out on the hills, under the leadership of Mr Rawlings, who had proved himself by this time one of the best shots in camp.
There were other reasons for the hunters’ activity besides the fact of the day being fine and signs of sport apparent.
“The hull crowd, from the Boss down to Sailor Bill, who wouldn’t say nay if he could kinder express himself,” as the ex-mate observed before the setting out of the expedition—“were dog-tired of pork and fixin’s,”—and their stomachs craved after game, or fresh meat of any sort.
Besides their having lived through the whole of the winter on salt pork, it had not been improved in quality by its contact with the flood-water that had submerged their cabin at one time; but, whether damaged or not, it must be acknowledged that even to the most easy-going and contented palate, a never-varying diet of fried pork and damper cakes—that resembled somewhat the unleavened bread of the Israelites in their passage through the wilderness—will prove somewhat wearying and monotonous in the long run! Thus, their anxiety for some change in their food can only be realised by those who have been compelled to live on salt provisions for any length of time.
Signs of sport, as has been already mentioned, were apparent enough; for traces of deer had been discovered by the Indian half-breed in the early morning, leading from the bank of the river as it entered the canon below the camp from the hills; and thus, therefore, it was with all the eagerness of semi-starving; men that the best shots of the party were picked out at once, and despatched to follow up the trail of the game; the others who remained behind going on with the rebuilding with all the greater ardour through the prospect of an unwontedly good dinner before them—that is, should the hunters prove successful.
Along with Mr Rawlings was Noah Webster, who was a better hunter almost than he was a miner; Moose, the half-breed Indian, and Josh the cook—Jasper stopping behind by the express orders of Seth, although he was madly jealous at his brother-darkey being preferred before him.
Upwards and onwards, through the scrub and brushwood and budding branches of trees, struggling over the trunks of fallen monarchs of the forest, that had been rooted up by the wind or struck down by lightning, and lay across their path, over rough volcanic rocks, and through ravines that trickled down tiny streams to swell the river below, they made their way slowly and tediously towards the probable lair of the deer, as the traces of their antlered prey grew fresher and more distinct every step, the slot being sometimes plainly visible in the moist soil, although for all they could otherwise see and hear they might be as far off from the wished-for prize as ever.
Presently, as they were emerging from a thicker growth of brushwood than they had yet passed through, they noticed, to their joy, right in front of them, feeding on a small grassy plateau under the lee of a jutting cliff, a head of what the Indian half-breed immediately declared to be a species of ibex, or mountain-sheep, that are commonly met with amid the peaks of the Rocky Mountains and its chains, far from the haunts of civilisation and men. It was only owing, indeed, to the fact that the hill diggers were away in the settlements, and from the scarcity of forage in their more secluded retreats, that they had approached so near to the miners’ camp.
Caution was now the order of the day; and, Mr Rawlings still leading, with the Indian next him, and then the others one after the other in file, Josh proudly bringing up the rear, they stepped forwards with the utmost care, keeping the wind in their faces so that they should not be betrayed by the scent of their clothing reaching the timid animals, to do which, they had to execute a considerable détour, and take advantage of every chance of cover.
By degrees, they gradually got within a fair range of about eighty yards—for, although long-distance shooting may be very nice as a test of shooting at the Wimbledon targets, it is quite a different matter when your dinner depends on the success of your shot; for, with that consideration in view, even the surest of marksmen likes to get within easy reach of his game.
Mr Rawlings and Noah Webster, the two best shots of the party, levelled their rifles together—after a brief nod from the Indian half-breed which seemed to say “Now’s your time”—and fired simultaneously, aiming at two of the wild sheep.
At the very moment they did so, the report of a third shot was heard, that seemed like the echo of their own double discharge, pinging through the keen rarefied air; and when the smoke had cleared off, and the reverberations of the sound had died away, rolling in fainter and fainter waves amongst the mountain hollows in the distance, three of the sheep were observed to be stretched lifeless on the plateau where they had been so recently feeding in peace, while the remainder of the flock were bounding away from peak to peak, seeking refuge in their native fortresses in the crags above.
Mr Rawlings did not notice anything unusual at first, as he had not heard the third rifle-shot; but Noah Webster and the half-breed, who were much better accustomed to woodcraft—having had their senses sharpened by dangers which seamen never have to encounter—were alive at once to the perception of something being wrong.
“Injuns, I reckon!” muttered Noah Webster under his breath, to which the half-breed growled a characteristic “Ugh,” and the two sank down closer amid the grass, dragging down Mr Rawlings with them, Noah stopping his expostulations by clapping his hand across his mouth, and looking at him warningly, while he motioned to the rest behind them to follow their example.
All huddled together in the grass and tangled brushwood, hardly breathing for fear their presence might be discovered by some possible foe, they looked out carefully, awaiting the development of the situation.
It was only a minute or two at most, but it appeared hours to one or two, especially to poor Josh, who, in his fright of being scalped by a possible Indian, would have cheerfully given up all his chances of gold in the mine and everything, to have swapped places with the envious Jasper and been safe in camp.
The listeners, however, did not have to wait so very long.
In a little while they heard the sound of twigs being broken near them, as if some one were making his way through the copse. Soon they could distinguish, in addition, the heavy tramp of footsteps—they sounded as heavy as those of elephants to them, with their ears to the ground—trampling down the thick undergrowth and rotten twigs in the thicket before them; and they could also hear a sort of muttering sound, like that caused by somebody speaking to himself in soliloquy.
The situation, if an exciting one, was not of any long duration, for while they were listening the dénouement came.
A nondescript-clad figure came out of the brushwood into the open clearing, walking towards the spot where the mountain-sheep lay stretched on the sward, which was partly covered with the snow that remained unmelted under the lee of the cliff; and a voice, without doubt appertaining to the figure, exclaimed in unmistakable English accents—
“Well, I’m hanged if I ever heard of such a thing before in my life! I know I am a tidy shot, but if I were to mention this at home they would say I was telling a confounded lie! To think of killing three of those queer creatures at one shot! By Jove, who’d believe it?”
The listeners burst into a simultaneous roar of laughter.
“It’s only a Britisher!” said Noah Webster; and they all rose from their covert and sallied out into the open, to the intense astonishment of the new-comer, whose surprise was evidently mixed with a proportionate amount of alarm, for he clutched his gun more tightly at the sight of them, and stood apparently on the defensive.
Story 1—Chapter VIII.An Unexpected Coincidence.“We are friends,” Mr Rawlings said, “some of us your countrymen, if, as I judge by your accent, you are an Englishman. We are working a mine in this neighbourhood. My name is Rawlings, and I am the proprietor of the mine.”“My name is Wilton—Ernest Wilton,” the stranger said, taking the hand that Mr Rawlings held out. “I am glad indeed to meet with a party of my countrymen. Some little time since I started from Oregon with a prospecting party that was organised to hunt up various openings for the employment of capital in mining, and other speculative enterprises. With this party I crossed the Rocky Mountains, and went about from place to place, until about three days ago, when, while shooting amongst these hills of yours, either I lost them or they lost me, and here I have been wandering about ever since by myself, and would probably have come to grief if I had not met you. By profession I am a mining engineer, but the mine I had come from England to work turned out badly, and I accepted another engagement, thinking to do a little sporting and exploring on my own account before returning to England—nice sport I’ve found it, too!”Mr Rawlings gave the stranger an earnest invitation to spend a day or two with them down at the creek.The visitor readily accepted; and the game being lifted and slung on poles, the party started for the camp, Mr Rawlings strolling on with his new acquaintance, and the others following, talking earnestly together.Arrived at the house, Mr Rawlings laughingly apologised for its state of dilapidation, but assured the visitor that it was far more comfortable than it looked.Seth came to the doorway, and the other miners gathered round, to inspect both the welcome supply of fresh food and the stranger.“This is Seth Allport, my lieutenant and manager,” Mr Rawlings said. “Seth, this is Mr Wilton, an English mining engineer.”“Jerusalem!” exclaimed Seth. “Now, who would have thought that?”“You seem surprised at my being an engineer,” said Ernest Wilton, laughing at Seth’s exclamation: for even the hungry miners, who had been previously clustered in groups around Josh and Jasper, surveying the cooking arrangements of the two darkeys with longing eyes, appeared to forget the claims of their appetites for the moment on the announcement of what evidently was a welcome piece of news, as they incontinently abandoned the grateful sight of the frizzling mutton, that was also sending forth the most savoury odours, and joined the leaders of the party who were interviewing the young Englishman. “I shouldn’t have thought one of my profession by any means a strange visitor.”“It isn’t the surprise, mister,” replied Seth cordially. “No, that ain’t it, quite, I reckon. It’s the coincidence, as it were, at this particular time, mister. That’s what’s the matter! Jehosophat! it is queer, streenger!”“I’m sure I ought to feel greatly honoured at such an imposing reception,” said Ernest, still rather perplexed at the ovation, which seemed unaccountable to him. “It is not such a very uncommon thing for an engineer to be travelling through these regions, is it now? especially when you consider that it has been mainly through the exertions of men of my craft, and the railways that they have planned, following in their wake, that the country has been opened up at all. I should have thought engineers almost as common nowadays out west as blackberries in old England.”“You are right there,” said Mr Rawlins’s, hastening to explain the circumstances that had caused his arrival to be looked upon as such a piece of good fortune, quite apart from the friendly feelings with which they regarded him as a forlorn stranger whom they were glad to welcome to their camp. “But, you see, your coming, as Seth Allport has just remarked, has been almost coincident with a loss, or rather want, which we just begin to feel in our mining operations here. Your arrival has happened just in the nick of time, when we are nearly at a standstill through the want of a competent superintending engineer, like yourself, experienced in mines and mining work. Hands we have in plenty—willing and able hands, too,” added Mr Rawlings, with an approving glance round at the assembled miners, who acknowledged the compliment with a hearty cheer for himself and Seth Allport;—“but we want a head to suggest how our efforts can be best directed, and our gear utilised, towards carrying out the object we all have in view. I and Seth have done our best; but, what with the overflow of water in the mine, and the necessity we think there is now for running out side cuttings from the main shaft, so as to strike the lode properly, we were fairly at our wits’ end.”“I see,” said Ernest Wilton musingly, “I see.”“An’ if yer like to join us in that air capacity,” interposed Seth, thinking that the other was merely keeping back his decision until he heard what terms might be offered him, and that a practical suggestion about money matters would settle the matter, “why, mister, we sha’n’t grumble about the dollars, you bet! As yer knows, the Kernel kinder invited yer jest now, when we had no sort o’ reckonin’ as to who and what yer were. Tharr’ll be no worry about yer share ov the plunder, neow—no, sir.”“Oh, pray don’t mention that,” exclaimed Ernest Wilton, pained at the interpretation put upon his reticence in accepting the offer of the position made him. “Nothing was further from my thoughts. I am too well acquainted with the open-handedness of the mining fraternity in the Golden State and elsewhere to dream of haggling about terms as to the payment of my poor services.”“What, then?” said Seth. “We don’t want to bind you down to any fixed sort o’ ’greement, if yu’d rather not.”“I was only considering,” replied Ernest, vexed at his own hesitancy, “whether I could fairly give up the party with whom I started from Oregon, as I was under a species of engagement, as it were, although there was no absolutely signed and sealed undertaking. It wouldn’t be right, I think, to leave them altogether without notice.”“Nary mind the half-hearted lot,” said Noah Webster, at this juncture putting his spoke in the wheel. “Didn’t they leave yer out alone in the mountains? I wouldn’t give a red cent for sich pardners, I guess, boss. Raal mean skunks I calls ’em, and no mistake, sirree!”“But I promised to stay with these fellows till we got over to the settlements on this side,” said Ernest Wilton, smiling at Noah’s characteristic vehemence against those half-hearted companions of his who had held back while he had gone forward by himself, “and I like to keep my word when I can, you know—at all events I ought to send and let them know where I am.”“We sha’n’t quarrel about that,” said Mr Rawlings kindly, to put the other at his ease, for some of the rough miners did not appear to like the Englishman’s hanging back from jumping at their leader’s offer.—“A man who is so anxious to keep his word, even with people who left him in the lurch, will be all the more likely to act straightforwardly towards us. Don’t, however, let that fret you, for you will be able to communicate as easily with your friends, and more so, by stopping here with us, as by going on to the nearest frontier township. As soon as the snow has melted, and the roads become passable again, there will be plentiful supply of half-breeds, like Moose there, and other gentry with nothing particular to do, come hanging round us, who will gladly carry any message or letter for you across the hills—for a leetle consideration, of course!” added Mr Rawlings, with his bluff, hearty laugh.“Ay, that there’ll be,” said Seth Allport. “Don’t you trouble about that, mister; but jine with us a free heart, and run our injine for us, and we’ll be downright glad, I guess!”“That we will, sure!” chorussed the miners in a body, with a shout. And so, pressed with a rough but hearty cordiality, Ernest Wilton consented to be a member of the mining party in the same frank spirit, and was now saluted as one of the Minturne Creek adventurers in a series of ringing cheers that made the hill-sides echo again, and the cavernous canon sound the refrain afar.Jasper and Josh, now quite reconciled after some “little bit of unpleasantness” between them, that had resulted in operations tending towards a lowering of the wool crop, as far as each was personally concerned, were unfeignedly glad the rather prolonged conference was over. They had been gazing at the group gathered around the young Englishman with a sort of puzzled wonder, and listening to what scraps of conversation they chanced to overhear, without being able to make out what the matter was about, with feelings of mingled expectancy and impatience at the length of the debate. But, now it was all settled, as they could see from the dispersal of the group, their joy was great, especially that of Master Jasper, who felt his dignity hurt, as a former steward and present butler in ordinary, on account of the neglect paid to his intimation that the viands were ready and “dinner served!”“Hooray!” shouted out Josh, throwing up his battered straw-hat into the air, and capering round the improvised caboose, in response to the miners’ ringing cheers on Ernest’s consent to join the party and act as engineer of the mine. “Me berry glad Massa Britisher now am one of us, for sure! Golly, we nebbah hab to put up with dat nasty salt pork no more now, yup, yup! Massa Britisher um berry good shot, su-ah! Um shoot tree sheep at one go. Golly, Jasper, you no laugh. I tell you for true!”—And the negro cook grinned himself, to the full extent of his wide mouth and glistening ivory teeth, while administering this rebuke to his darkey brother.“Shoo! go way wid yer nonsenz, and don’t bodder me,” responded the hungry and aggrieved Jasper, who did not appreciate the joke, the young Englishman’s humorous mistake as to the result of his rifle-shot not having yet been promulgated for the benefit of those in camp. “Am none ob you gentlemens comin’ to dinnah, hey?”—he called out more loudly,—“Massa Rawlins me tellee hab tings ready in brace o’ shakes; and now tings fix up tarnation smart, nobody come. Um berry aggerabating—can’t oberstand it, no how!”“None o’ your sass,” said Seth gruffly, although the lurking smile on his face took off from the effect of his words, “none o’ your sass, Jasper, or I’ll keelhaul you, and make you fancy yourself aboard ship once more!”“Me not sassy, Massa Seth. I’se hab too much respect for myself, sah, for dat! I only tells you as de meat’s done and gettin’ cool, dat’s all, while yous be all jabberin’ way jus like passul monkeys. No imperance in dat, massa, as I sees!”“Stow that, you ugly cuss,” said Seth good-humouredly, for he was used somewhat to Master Jasper’s “cheek” by this time. “You’re jest about as bad as a Philadelphy lawyer, when you’ve got your jaw tackle aboard! Now, boys,” he added, hailing the miners, who were nothing loth to obey the signal, “the darkey says the vittles are ready, and you as wants to feed had better fall to!”
“We are friends,” Mr Rawlings said, “some of us your countrymen, if, as I judge by your accent, you are an Englishman. We are working a mine in this neighbourhood. My name is Rawlings, and I am the proprietor of the mine.”
“My name is Wilton—Ernest Wilton,” the stranger said, taking the hand that Mr Rawlings held out. “I am glad indeed to meet with a party of my countrymen. Some little time since I started from Oregon with a prospecting party that was organised to hunt up various openings for the employment of capital in mining, and other speculative enterprises. With this party I crossed the Rocky Mountains, and went about from place to place, until about three days ago, when, while shooting amongst these hills of yours, either I lost them or they lost me, and here I have been wandering about ever since by myself, and would probably have come to grief if I had not met you. By profession I am a mining engineer, but the mine I had come from England to work turned out badly, and I accepted another engagement, thinking to do a little sporting and exploring on my own account before returning to England—nice sport I’ve found it, too!”
Mr Rawlings gave the stranger an earnest invitation to spend a day or two with them down at the creek.
The visitor readily accepted; and the game being lifted and slung on poles, the party started for the camp, Mr Rawlings strolling on with his new acquaintance, and the others following, talking earnestly together.
Arrived at the house, Mr Rawlings laughingly apologised for its state of dilapidation, but assured the visitor that it was far more comfortable than it looked.
Seth came to the doorway, and the other miners gathered round, to inspect both the welcome supply of fresh food and the stranger.
“This is Seth Allport, my lieutenant and manager,” Mr Rawlings said. “Seth, this is Mr Wilton, an English mining engineer.”
“Jerusalem!” exclaimed Seth. “Now, who would have thought that?”
“You seem surprised at my being an engineer,” said Ernest Wilton, laughing at Seth’s exclamation: for even the hungry miners, who had been previously clustered in groups around Josh and Jasper, surveying the cooking arrangements of the two darkeys with longing eyes, appeared to forget the claims of their appetites for the moment on the announcement of what evidently was a welcome piece of news, as they incontinently abandoned the grateful sight of the frizzling mutton, that was also sending forth the most savoury odours, and joined the leaders of the party who were interviewing the young Englishman. “I shouldn’t have thought one of my profession by any means a strange visitor.”
“It isn’t the surprise, mister,” replied Seth cordially. “No, that ain’t it, quite, I reckon. It’s the coincidence, as it were, at this particular time, mister. That’s what’s the matter! Jehosophat! it is queer, streenger!”
“I’m sure I ought to feel greatly honoured at such an imposing reception,” said Ernest, still rather perplexed at the ovation, which seemed unaccountable to him. “It is not such a very uncommon thing for an engineer to be travelling through these regions, is it now? especially when you consider that it has been mainly through the exertions of men of my craft, and the railways that they have planned, following in their wake, that the country has been opened up at all. I should have thought engineers almost as common nowadays out west as blackberries in old England.”
“You are right there,” said Mr Rawlins’s, hastening to explain the circumstances that had caused his arrival to be looked upon as such a piece of good fortune, quite apart from the friendly feelings with which they regarded him as a forlorn stranger whom they were glad to welcome to their camp. “But, you see, your coming, as Seth Allport has just remarked, has been almost coincident with a loss, or rather want, which we just begin to feel in our mining operations here. Your arrival has happened just in the nick of time, when we are nearly at a standstill through the want of a competent superintending engineer, like yourself, experienced in mines and mining work. Hands we have in plenty—willing and able hands, too,” added Mr Rawlings, with an approving glance round at the assembled miners, who acknowledged the compliment with a hearty cheer for himself and Seth Allport;—“but we want a head to suggest how our efforts can be best directed, and our gear utilised, towards carrying out the object we all have in view. I and Seth have done our best; but, what with the overflow of water in the mine, and the necessity we think there is now for running out side cuttings from the main shaft, so as to strike the lode properly, we were fairly at our wits’ end.”
“I see,” said Ernest Wilton musingly, “I see.”
“An’ if yer like to join us in that air capacity,” interposed Seth, thinking that the other was merely keeping back his decision until he heard what terms might be offered him, and that a practical suggestion about money matters would settle the matter, “why, mister, we sha’n’t grumble about the dollars, you bet! As yer knows, the Kernel kinder invited yer jest now, when we had no sort o’ reckonin’ as to who and what yer were. Tharr’ll be no worry about yer share ov the plunder, neow—no, sir.”
“Oh, pray don’t mention that,” exclaimed Ernest Wilton, pained at the interpretation put upon his reticence in accepting the offer of the position made him. “Nothing was further from my thoughts. I am too well acquainted with the open-handedness of the mining fraternity in the Golden State and elsewhere to dream of haggling about terms as to the payment of my poor services.”
“What, then?” said Seth. “We don’t want to bind you down to any fixed sort o’ ’greement, if yu’d rather not.”
“I was only considering,” replied Ernest, vexed at his own hesitancy, “whether I could fairly give up the party with whom I started from Oregon, as I was under a species of engagement, as it were, although there was no absolutely signed and sealed undertaking. It wouldn’t be right, I think, to leave them altogether without notice.”
“Nary mind the half-hearted lot,” said Noah Webster, at this juncture putting his spoke in the wheel. “Didn’t they leave yer out alone in the mountains? I wouldn’t give a red cent for sich pardners, I guess, boss. Raal mean skunks I calls ’em, and no mistake, sirree!”
“But I promised to stay with these fellows till we got over to the settlements on this side,” said Ernest Wilton, smiling at Noah’s characteristic vehemence against those half-hearted companions of his who had held back while he had gone forward by himself, “and I like to keep my word when I can, you know—at all events I ought to send and let them know where I am.”
“We sha’n’t quarrel about that,” said Mr Rawlings kindly, to put the other at his ease, for some of the rough miners did not appear to like the Englishman’s hanging back from jumping at their leader’s offer.—“A man who is so anxious to keep his word, even with people who left him in the lurch, will be all the more likely to act straightforwardly towards us. Don’t, however, let that fret you, for you will be able to communicate as easily with your friends, and more so, by stopping here with us, as by going on to the nearest frontier township. As soon as the snow has melted, and the roads become passable again, there will be plentiful supply of half-breeds, like Moose there, and other gentry with nothing particular to do, come hanging round us, who will gladly carry any message or letter for you across the hills—for a leetle consideration, of course!” added Mr Rawlings, with his bluff, hearty laugh.
“Ay, that there’ll be,” said Seth Allport. “Don’t you trouble about that, mister; but jine with us a free heart, and run our injine for us, and we’ll be downright glad, I guess!”
“That we will, sure!” chorussed the miners in a body, with a shout. And so, pressed with a rough but hearty cordiality, Ernest Wilton consented to be a member of the mining party in the same frank spirit, and was now saluted as one of the Minturne Creek adventurers in a series of ringing cheers that made the hill-sides echo again, and the cavernous canon sound the refrain afar.
Jasper and Josh, now quite reconciled after some “little bit of unpleasantness” between them, that had resulted in operations tending towards a lowering of the wool crop, as far as each was personally concerned, were unfeignedly glad the rather prolonged conference was over. They had been gazing at the group gathered around the young Englishman with a sort of puzzled wonder, and listening to what scraps of conversation they chanced to overhear, without being able to make out what the matter was about, with feelings of mingled expectancy and impatience at the length of the debate. But, now it was all settled, as they could see from the dispersal of the group, their joy was great, especially that of Master Jasper, who felt his dignity hurt, as a former steward and present butler in ordinary, on account of the neglect paid to his intimation that the viands were ready and “dinner served!”
“Hooray!” shouted out Josh, throwing up his battered straw-hat into the air, and capering round the improvised caboose, in response to the miners’ ringing cheers on Ernest’s consent to join the party and act as engineer of the mine. “Me berry glad Massa Britisher now am one of us, for sure! Golly, we nebbah hab to put up with dat nasty salt pork no more now, yup, yup! Massa Britisher um berry good shot, su-ah! Um shoot tree sheep at one go. Golly, Jasper, you no laugh. I tell you for true!”—And the negro cook grinned himself, to the full extent of his wide mouth and glistening ivory teeth, while administering this rebuke to his darkey brother.
“Shoo! go way wid yer nonsenz, and don’t bodder me,” responded the hungry and aggrieved Jasper, who did not appreciate the joke, the young Englishman’s humorous mistake as to the result of his rifle-shot not having yet been promulgated for the benefit of those in camp. “Am none ob you gentlemens comin’ to dinnah, hey?”—he called out more loudly,—“Massa Rawlins me tellee hab tings ready in brace o’ shakes; and now tings fix up tarnation smart, nobody come. Um berry aggerabating—can’t oberstand it, no how!”
“None o’ your sass,” said Seth gruffly, although the lurking smile on his face took off from the effect of his words, “none o’ your sass, Jasper, or I’ll keelhaul you, and make you fancy yourself aboard ship once more!”
“Me not sassy, Massa Seth. I’se hab too much respect for myself, sah, for dat! I only tells you as de meat’s done and gettin’ cool, dat’s all, while yous be all jabberin’ way jus like passul monkeys. No imperance in dat, massa, as I sees!”
“Stow that, you ugly cuss,” said Seth good-humouredly, for he was used somewhat to Master Jasper’s “cheek” by this time. “You’re jest about as bad as a Philadelphy lawyer, when you’ve got your jaw tackle aboard! Now, boys,” he added, hailing the miners, who were nothing loth to obey the signal, “the darkey says the vittles are ready, and you as wants to feed had better fall to!”
Story 1—Chapter IX.Concerning Sailor Bill.During this little interlude, Ernest Wilton had been closely engaged in watching the actions of the poor boy, “Sailor Bill.”His face had attracted him from the first moment he caught sight of him; but when he had more leisure to observe him, after the palaver with Mr Rawlings and the miners was over, and he noticed certain peculiarities about the object of his attention which had previously escaped his notice, his interest became greatly heightened.Sailor Bill had altered very much in appearance since the day he had been picked up in the Bay of Biscay and taken on board theSusan Jane, a thin, delicate-looking boy with a pale face and a wasted frame. The keen healthy air and out-of-doors life out west had worked wonders with him, and he was now rosy and stalwart, his body having filled out and his cheeks grown much fatter, while he was even considerably taller than he had been some six months previously.His bright golden-brown hair was, of course, the same, and so were the long dark lashes to the blue eyes that had so especially appealed to Captain Blowser’s fancy when he had spoken about the boy’s resemblance to a girl, for they yet bore the same peculiar far-away look as if they belonged to a person walking in his sleep, without intelligence or notice in them whatever.As on board ship, Sailor Bill stuck to Seth Allport as his shadow, moving where he moved, stopping where he stopped, with the faithful attachment of a dog, albeit wanting in that expression of sagacity, which even the dullest specimen of the canine race exhibits on all occasions. Seth Allport seemed to be the mainspring of the boy’s action, and after a time it became almost painful to watch the two, although the sailor had now grown accustomed to being followed about in so eccentric a fashion—as had, indeed, the rest of the party, who were not so distinctly singled out by the poor boy’s regard; but it was all new and strange to Ernest Wilton as he watched and wondered.“What is the matter with the boy?” asked he presently of Mr Rawlings, who, from the fixed observation of his companion, had been expecting the question. “Poor fellow, he doesn’t seem all right in his mind—and a healthy, nice-looking boy, too!”“Yes,” said Mr Rawlings, tapping his forehead expressively, and speaking feelingly as he looked affectionately at Sailor Bill, whom all had learnt to like as they would have done a pet dog;—“something wrong there, although I hope in time he will get over it in the same way as he came by it, if God so wills it!”“I suppose he’s got some story attached to him, eh?” said Ernest Wilton.“No doubt,” answered Mr Rawlings; “but nobody but himself knows it!”“How strangely you pique my curiosity! Besides, his face seems quite familiar to me, somehow or other. Yes, it’s really quite familiar,” he repeated.“Does it?” said Mr Rawlings eagerly, hoping that the young engineer might be able to tell something.“Yes,” replied the other, “and I cannot tell how or where I have seen somebody like him before. But I will recollect presently, I have no doubt, after a little more reflection.”“We picked up the poor chap at sea, half-drowned, and bleeding from a very terrible cut across the forehead; and such a slender thin shaving of a boy that you would not have known him to be the same as he is now!”“Indeed!” said Ernest Wilton with greater interest even than he had displayed before; and thereupon Mr Rawlings told the whole story of Sailor Bill’s rescue, and how he afterwards saved the life of Seth Allport, to whom he had thenceforward attached himself; and how the worthy sailor had refused to part with him, and brought him out west.The young engineer had been carefully noting all the points of the narrative while the other was speaking; and seemed to revolve the whole circumstances of Sailor Bill’s history in his mind with a view to solving the mystery.“I shouldn’t be surprised,” said he, when Mr Rawlings had completed his yarn, “if he belonged to that deserted ship which you subsequently came across; and that in the mutiny, or whatever else occurred on board, he got wounded and thrown into the sea.”“That is possible,” said Mr Rawlings, “but not quite probable, considering the time that elapsed after our saving him to meeting with the water-logged vessel, and the distance we traversed in the interval. Besides, the boy was lashed to the spar that supported him in the water, and he couldn’t have done that, with the wound he had received, by himself; so that gets rid of the theory of his being half-murdered and pitched overboard. Altogether, the story is one of those secrets of the sea that will never be unravelled, unless he comes to his senses at some time or other and tells us all about it!”“And you don’t know his name, or anything?”“No, only just what I have told you.”“Had he no marks on his clothing, or anything in his pockets, that might serve for identification, should any one claim him by and by?” said Ernest Wilton, pursuing his interrogatories like a cross-examining barrister fussy over his first case.“He had nothing on but his shirt and trousers, I tell you,” said Mr Rawlings, laughing at what he called the badgering of the other, just as if he were in a witness-box, he said, “and boys don’t carry many letters or documents about them, especially in their trousers’ pockets; at all events, they didn’t do so when I was a boy. Stay—” he added, bethinking himself suddenly of one item of the story he had apparently forgotten till then,—“I certainly passed over something.”“What?” said Ernest, still looking at Sailor Bill steadfastly, as if trying in vain to summon up the recollection of his features from the hazy depths of his memory; for the face of the boy seemed more and more familiar to him the longer he looked.“Well,” replied Mr Rawlings, with a little hesitation, “I don’t suppose you want to know about the boy merely to satisfy an idle curiosity at seeing the poor, bereaved, young creature to be out of his mind?”“Certainly not,” said Ernest Wilton. “What you have already told me, besides his own innocent, guileless look, has interested me strangely in him; and, in addition to that, I’m sure I know something about him or somebody extremely like him, which I cannot at present recall to my recollection.”“I believe you honestly,” replied Mr Rawlings, stretching forth his hand in token of good faith, which the other cordially grasped; “and, that being the case, I can tell you something more, which only Seth Allport and myself know about, and which we have kept to ourselves as a matter of confidence on the poor boy’s behalf. Of course, Captain Blowser of theSusan Janeknows about it, too, as he was entitled to by rights, from having picked the little chap up; but he’s at sea, and it doesn’t matter whether he divulges it or not, as it wouldn’t be of much consequence to the boy; here on land, however, where anybody might track him out from interested or other motives, it is a very different matter; so I must ask you on your word of honour to keep the circumstance to yourself.”“Most decidedly,” said Ernest Wilton heartily; “I pledge you my word I will—until, at all events, you think it best, should things so happen, that it ought to be divulged.”“All right,” responded Mr Rawlings, trusting implicitly in the other’s discretion. “Now, I’ll tell you. When I said that the boy had only his shirt and trousers on in the way of garments, and that there was nothing in his pockets to disclose his identity, I related you only the simple truth, for there was nothing to trace him by; and I remember that Captain Blowser, of theSusan Jane, regretted afterwards that the spar to which we found him lashed had been cut adrift, without any one having examined it carefully to see whether there might not have been the name of the ship painted on the yard, or a portion of the canvas, or something else in the top along with the boy—for there was the topmast and yard, and all the gear of the whole mast complete, as if it had been carried away in a moment. But you recollect what I told you, of the boy’s dashing out of the cabin as if he had been taken with a sudden frenzy, and going to rescue Seth Allport when he was swept over the side by the broken topsail-halliards in that squall?”“Yes, quite well,” answered Ernest Wilton.“Well, after that he fainted away almost dead again for some time; and when I was bending over him trying to rouse him, I noticed a thin silken string round his neck, which I hadn’t noticed previously, nor had Jasper the steward, although his shirt had been opened there, and his bosom bared in our efforts to resuscitate him, when he first took him down into the cabin.”“A fine silken string?” repeated the other, as Mr Rawlings paused for a moment in his recital; “a fine silken string round his neck?”“Yes; and on drawing out the end of it I found a small parchment parcel, carefully sealed up with red sealing-wax, and an official kind of stamp over it which had been before concealed in an inside pocket cunningly secreted in the waist-part of the boy’s flannel shirt.”“And this parcel contained?” said the young engineer with breathless attention.“Ah! that’s what I just don’t know,” said Mr Rawlings with provoking coolness.
During this little interlude, Ernest Wilton had been closely engaged in watching the actions of the poor boy, “Sailor Bill.”
His face had attracted him from the first moment he caught sight of him; but when he had more leisure to observe him, after the palaver with Mr Rawlings and the miners was over, and he noticed certain peculiarities about the object of his attention which had previously escaped his notice, his interest became greatly heightened.
Sailor Bill had altered very much in appearance since the day he had been picked up in the Bay of Biscay and taken on board theSusan Jane, a thin, delicate-looking boy with a pale face and a wasted frame. The keen healthy air and out-of-doors life out west had worked wonders with him, and he was now rosy and stalwart, his body having filled out and his cheeks grown much fatter, while he was even considerably taller than he had been some six months previously.
His bright golden-brown hair was, of course, the same, and so were the long dark lashes to the blue eyes that had so especially appealed to Captain Blowser’s fancy when he had spoken about the boy’s resemblance to a girl, for they yet bore the same peculiar far-away look as if they belonged to a person walking in his sleep, without intelligence or notice in them whatever.
As on board ship, Sailor Bill stuck to Seth Allport as his shadow, moving where he moved, stopping where he stopped, with the faithful attachment of a dog, albeit wanting in that expression of sagacity, which even the dullest specimen of the canine race exhibits on all occasions. Seth Allport seemed to be the mainspring of the boy’s action, and after a time it became almost painful to watch the two, although the sailor had now grown accustomed to being followed about in so eccentric a fashion—as had, indeed, the rest of the party, who were not so distinctly singled out by the poor boy’s regard; but it was all new and strange to Ernest Wilton as he watched and wondered.
“What is the matter with the boy?” asked he presently of Mr Rawlings, who, from the fixed observation of his companion, had been expecting the question. “Poor fellow, he doesn’t seem all right in his mind—and a healthy, nice-looking boy, too!”
“Yes,” said Mr Rawlings, tapping his forehead expressively, and speaking feelingly as he looked affectionately at Sailor Bill, whom all had learnt to like as they would have done a pet dog;—“something wrong there, although I hope in time he will get over it in the same way as he came by it, if God so wills it!”
“I suppose he’s got some story attached to him, eh?” said Ernest Wilton.
“No doubt,” answered Mr Rawlings; “but nobody but himself knows it!”
“How strangely you pique my curiosity! Besides, his face seems quite familiar to me, somehow or other. Yes, it’s really quite familiar,” he repeated.
“Does it?” said Mr Rawlings eagerly, hoping that the young engineer might be able to tell something.
“Yes,” replied the other, “and I cannot tell how or where I have seen somebody like him before. But I will recollect presently, I have no doubt, after a little more reflection.”
“We picked up the poor chap at sea, half-drowned, and bleeding from a very terrible cut across the forehead; and such a slender thin shaving of a boy that you would not have known him to be the same as he is now!”
“Indeed!” said Ernest Wilton with greater interest even than he had displayed before; and thereupon Mr Rawlings told the whole story of Sailor Bill’s rescue, and how he afterwards saved the life of Seth Allport, to whom he had thenceforward attached himself; and how the worthy sailor had refused to part with him, and brought him out west.
The young engineer had been carefully noting all the points of the narrative while the other was speaking; and seemed to revolve the whole circumstances of Sailor Bill’s history in his mind with a view to solving the mystery.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” said he, when Mr Rawlings had completed his yarn, “if he belonged to that deserted ship which you subsequently came across; and that in the mutiny, or whatever else occurred on board, he got wounded and thrown into the sea.”
“That is possible,” said Mr Rawlings, “but not quite probable, considering the time that elapsed after our saving him to meeting with the water-logged vessel, and the distance we traversed in the interval. Besides, the boy was lashed to the spar that supported him in the water, and he couldn’t have done that, with the wound he had received, by himself; so that gets rid of the theory of his being half-murdered and pitched overboard. Altogether, the story is one of those secrets of the sea that will never be unravelled, unless he comes to his senses at some time or other and tells us all about it!”
“And you don’t know his name, or anything?”
“No, only just what I have told you.”
“Had he no marks on his clothing, or anything in his pockets, that might serve for identification, should any one claim him by and by?” said Ernest Wilton, pursuing his interrogatories like a cross-examining barrister fussy over his first case.
“He had nothing on but his shirt and trousers, I tell you,” said Mr Rawlings, laughing at what he called the badgering of the other, just as if he were in a witness-box, he said, “and boys don’t carry many letters or documents about them, especially in their trousers’ pockets; at all events, they didn’t do so when I was a boy. Stay—” he added, bethinking himself suddenly of one item of the story he had apparently forgotten till then,—“I certainly passed over something.”
“What?” said Ernest, still looking at Sailor Bill steadfastly, as if trying in vain to summon up the recollection of his features from the hazy depths of his memory; for the face of the boy seemed more and more familiar to him the longer he looked.
“Well,” replied Mr Rawlings, with a little hesitation, “I don’t suppose you want to know about the boy merely to satisfy an idle curiosity at seeing the poor, bereaved, young creature to be out of his mind?”
“Certainly not,” said Ernest Wilton. “What you have already told me, besides his own innocent, guileless look, has interested me strangely in him; and, in addition to that, I’m sure I know something about him or somebody extremely like him, which I cannot at present recall to my recollection.”
“I believe you honestly,” replied Mr Rawlings, stretching forth his hand in token of good faith, which the other cordially grasped; “and, that being the case, I can tell you something more, which only Seth Allport and myself know about, and which we have kept to ourselves as a matter of confidence on the poor boy’s behalf. Of course, Captain Blowser of theSusan Janeknows about it, too, as he was entitled to by rights, from having picked the little chap up; but he’s at sea, and it doesn’t matter whether he divulges it or not, as it wouldn’t be of much consequence to the boy; here on land, however, where anybody might track him out from interested or other motives, it is a very different matter; so I must ask you on your word of honour to keep the circumstance to yourself.”
“Most decidedly,” said Ernest Wilton heartily; “I pledge you my word I will—until, at all events, you think it best, should things so happen, that it ought to be divulged.”
“All right,” responded Mr Rawlings, trusting implicitly in the other’s discretion. “Now, I’ll tell you. When I said that the boy had only his shirt and trousers on in the way of garments, and that there was nothing in his pockets to disclose his identity, I related you only the simple truth, for there was nothing to trace him by; and I remember that Captain Blowser, of theSusan Jane, regretted afterwards that the spar to which we found him lashed had been cut adrift, without any one having examined it carefully to see whether there might not have been the name of the ship painted on the yard, or a portion of the canvas, or something else in the top along with the boy—for there was the topmast and yard, and all the gear of the whole mast complete, as if it had been carried away in a moment. But you recollect what I told you, of the boy’s dashing out of the cabin as if he had been taken with a sudden frenzy, and going to rescue Seth Allport when he was swept over the side by the broken topsail-halliards in that squall?”
“Yes, quite well,” answered Ernest Wilton.
“Well, after that he fainted away almost dead again for some time; and when I was bending over him trying to rouse him, I noticed a thin silken string round his neck, which I hadn’t noticed previously, nor had Jasper the steward, although his shirt had been opened there, and his bosom bared in our efforts to resuscitate him, when he first took him down into the cabin.”
“A fine silken string?” repeated the other, as Mr Rawlings paused for a moment in his recital; “a fine silken string round his neck?”
“Yes; and on drawing out the end of it I found a small parchment parcel, carefully sealed up with red sealing-wax, and an official kind of stamp over it which had been before concealed in an inside pocket cunningly secreted in the waist-part of the boy’s flannel shirt.”
“And this parcel contained?” said the young engineer with breathless attention.
“Ah! that’s what I just don’t know,” said Mr Rawlings with provoking coolness.
Story 1—Chapter X.A Conundrum.Ernest Wilton felt almost inclined to be vexed at first, thinking that the speaker had deliberately led him on with the intention, finally, of “selling” him, or perpetrating an April fool trick at his expense, it just being about that time of year. But after one steadfast glance at Mr Rawlings’ unmoved face, which bore an expression of honest sincerity that could not be doubted, he laughed off his annoyance, for he could perceive that his companion was perfectly guiltless of any attempt at a joke, and had said what he did in serious confidence.“Did you not open the packet?” said he, when he had stifled his laughter, which increased all the more from Mr Rawlings’ unconsciousness of having done or said anything to provoke it.“No, I didn’t do it at the time, thinking it might be some little keepsake or love-token which the boy would not have liked any prying eyes to look into if he were in the full possession of his faculties; and afterwards, when I wanted to, thinking that it might disclose his identity, Seth wouldn’t allow it.”“Hullo!” said that worthy, coming up at the moment, with Sailor Bill in close attendance behind him as usual, “what are you two chaps a conspiring about? I guess,” he continued, with the broad smile that seemed to illumine the whole of his rugged countenance and give it such a pleasant, cheery look, “you’re up to some mischief about me, hey? I kalkerlate I heard my name kinder mentioned.”“We were talking about the boy, Seth,” said Mr Rawlings, smiling too.“Speakin’ ’bout my b’y, wer’ yer?” said he, turning half round as he spoke, to pat Sailor Bill’s head kindly. “Poor feller! yer might ha’ sunthin’ a sight worse ter talk about, I reckon! He’s a chap as can’t do harm to none whatsomdever, if he can’t do ’em no good, as he once did to me, I guess.”“You can’t forget that, Seth?” said Mr Rawlings.“No, nor won’t as long as this chile draws breath nether,” answered the ex-mate of theSusan Jane, feelingly, with a look of almost parental fondness at the boy.“Mr Wilton here was wondering, Seth,” continued Mr Rawlings, “why you would not let me open that package round poor Sailor Bill’s neck, to see whether it would give us any clue to who he is.”The smile faded instantly from Seth Allport’s face, which reassumed its normal grim, firm look, just as if some one had dealt him what he would have called a “back-hander.”“Mr Wilton may wonder, and you too, Mr Rawlings, but I jest won’t that, siree, not if I know it. Nary a soul shall look upon it, I guess, till that thar b’y opens it hisself. I said that months agone, Rawlings, as you knows well, and I say it now agin.”“I wish I could recollect whom he resembles, really,” said Ernest Wilton, to give a turn to the conversation, which had got into such an unpleasant hitch. “There is nothing so worrying as to try and puzzle over a face which you seem to remember and which you cannot place.”“Yes,” said Mr Rawlings; “like a name sometimes seems to hover right on the tip of your tongue, and yet you can’t get it out, try what you may. I suppose you left England only lately?”“I?” replied the young engineer. “Why, it’s nearly four years since I left Liverpool for America—quite.”“Perhaps you keep up communication, however, with the tight little island, eh?” said Mr Rawlings. “I daresay some one was sorry to lose you.”“Not they,” said Ernest Wilton carelessly. “‘I care for nobody, no, not I, and nobody cares for me,’” he hummed in a rich baritone voice, although there was a tone of sadness in it that belied the tenor of the words. “I assure you,” he added presently, in one of those sudden bursts of confidence in which some of us are apt to indulge sometimes when we get a sympathetic listener, “that I haven’t written home or heard from thence for more than three years, and they will have thought me dead by this time! I’ve no doubt there is a large parcel of letters and papers awaiting me now in New York, where I told them to address me when I came to America; for I’ve not been back there either since the day I landed, when I started straight across the continent for California, with a gentleman who had an interest in some mines there, with whom I came over in the same steamer from Liverpool; and I have never been eastwards again, or turned my face thither till I came through Oregon as far as this place, which is still considerable to the west, I think, eh?”And he laughed lightly, as if he did not care to talk much of home or its associations.“I don’t think it’s quite right, though,” suggested Mr Rawlings in his grave, kind way, “altogether to abandon one’s relatives and friends in that fashion.”“No?” said the young man inquiringly; and then added more frankly, impressed by the manner of the other, “Well, perhaps it isn’t quite the right thing to do; but I have been a rover almost all my life, and a wanderer from home. Besides, my parents are both dead, and there’s nobody now who particularly cares about me or my welfare in old England.”“Notanybody?” persisted Mr Rawlings, who thought it strange that such a nice, handsome fellow as the young engineer appeared should be without some tie in the world to hold him to his country.“I certainly have an uncle and aunt and some cousins,” said Ernest Wilton, acknowledging his relatives as if he were confessing some peccadillo; “and my aunt used to be fond of me as a boy, I remember well.”“Then I should write to her,” said Mr Rawlings. “When you get as old as I am, you won’t like to feel yourself alone amongst strangers, and without some one to connect you with the past of your childhood.”“I will write to my aunt, then, as you have reminded me of my shortcomings,” said Ernest Wilton, laughing. “I promise you that at any rate.”“That’s a good fellow. I’m sure you won’t regret it afterwards,” said Mr Rawlings, who was then proceeding to ask the young engineer something about his journey from California to Dakota when Seth, who had listened patiently to their conversation so far, now interrupted them.“Come, mister,” said he, addressing Ernest Wilton, “I suggest—”“Do call me by my right name, please,” interposed the good-humoured young fellow, speaking in such a sort of pleading way that Seth could not take offence.“Waal, thin, ef yer are so partick’ler,” replied that worthy, with a very bad pretence of being angry, “kim along, Wilton, thaar now! and see to this mine of ourn that you’ve now got to look arter. How does yer like that style anyhow?”“Decidedly better,” responded the young engineer, with his frank, light-hearted laugh, in which Mr Rawlings joined.And the four then proceeded in the direction of the shaft, Seth leading the way, with Sailor Bill, as usual behind him.
Ernest Wilton felt almost inclined to be vexed at first, thinking that the speaker had deliberately led him on with the intention, finally, of “selling” him, or perpetrating an April fool trick at his expense, it just being about that time of year. But after one steadfast glance at Mr Rawlings’ unmoved face, which bore an expression of honest sincerity that could not be doubted, he laughed off his annoyance, for he could perceive that his companion was perfectly guiltless of any attempt at a joke, and had said what he did in serious confidence.
“Did you not open the packet?” said he, when he had stifled his laughter, which increased all the more from Mr Rawlings’ unconsciousness of having done or said anything to provoke it.
“No, I didn’t do it at the time, thinking it might be some little keepsake or love-token which the boy would not have liked any prying eyes to look into if he were in the full possession of his faculties; and afterwards, when I wanted to, thinking that it might disclose his identity, Seth wouldn’t allow it.”
“Hullo!” said that worthy, coming up at the moment, with Sailor Bill in close attendance behind him as usual, “what are you two chaps a conspiring about? I guess,” he continued, with the broad smile that seemed to illumine the whole of his rugged countenance and give it such a pleasant, cheery look, “you’re up to some mischief about me, hey? I kalkerlate I heard my name kinder mentioned.”
“We were talking about the boy, Seth,” said Mr Rawlings, smiling too.
“Speakin’ ’bout my b’y, wer’ yer?” said he, turning half round as he spoke, to pat Sailor Bill’s head kindly. “Poor feller! yer might ha’ sunthin’ a sight worse ter talk about, I reckon! He’s a chap as can’t do harm to none whatsomdever, if he can’t do ’em no good, as he once did to me, I guess.”
“You can’t forget that, Seth?” said Mr Rawlings.
“No, nor won’t as long as this chile draws breath nether,” answered the ex-mate of theSusan Jane, feelingly, with a look of almost parental fondness at the boy.
“Mr Wilton here was wondering, Seth,” continued Mr Rawlings, “why you would not let me open that package round poor Sailor Bill’s neck, to see whether it would give us any clue to who he is.”
The smile faded instantly from Seth Allport’s face, which reassumed its normal grim, firm look, just as if some one had dealt him what he would have called a “back-hander.”
“Mr Wilton may wonder, and you too, Mr Rawlings, but I jest won’t that, siree, not if I know it. Nary a soul shall look upon it, I guess, till that thar b’y opens it hisself. I said that months agone, Rawlings, as you knows well, and I say it now agin.”
“I wish I could recollect whom he resembles, really,” said Ernest Wilton, to give a turn to the conversation, which had got into such an unpleasant hitch. “There is nothing so worrying as to try and puzzle over a face which you seem to remember and which you cannot place.”
“Yes,” said Mr Rawlings; “like a name sometimes seems to hover right on the tip of your tongue, and yet you can’t get it out, try what you may. I suppose you left England only lately?”
“I?” replied the young engineer. “Why, it’s nearly four years since I left Liverpool for America—quite.”
“Perhaps you keep up communication, however, with the tight little island, eh?” said Mr Rawlings. “I daresay some one was sorry to lose you.”
“Not they,” said Ernest Wilton carelessly. “‘I care for nobody, no, not I, and nobody cares for me,’” he hummed in a rich baritone voice, although there was a tone of sadness in it that belied the tenor of the words. “I assure you,” he added presently, in one of those sudden bursts of confidence in which some of us are apt to indulge sometimes when we get a sympathetic listener, “that I haven’t written home or heard from thence for more than three years, and they will have thought me dead by this time! I’ve no doubt there is a large parcel of letters and papers awaiting me now in New York, where I told them to address me when I came to America; for I’ve not been back there either since the day I landed, when I started straight across the continent for California, with a gentleman who had an interest in some mines there, with whom I came over in the same steamer from Liverpool; and I have never been eastwards again, or turned my face thither till I came through Oregon as far as this place, which is still considerable to the west, I think, eh?”
And he laughed lightly, as if he did not care to talk much of home or its associations.
“I don’t think it’s quite right, though,” suggested Mr Rawlings in his grave, kind way, “altogether to abandon one’s relatives and friends in that fashion.”
“No?” said the young man inquiringly; and then added more frankly, impressed by the manner of the other, “Well, perhaps it isn’t quite the right thing to do; but I have been a rover almost all my life, and a wanderer from home. Besides, my parents are both dead, and there’s nobody now who particularly cares about me or my welfare in old England.”
“Notanybody?” persisted Mr Rawlings, who thought it strange that such a nice, handsome fellow as the young engineer appeared should be without some tie in the world to hold him to his country.
“I certainly have an uncle and aunt and some cousins,” said Ernest Wilton, acknowledging his relatives as if he were confessing some peccadillo; “and my aunt used to be fond of me as a boy, I remember well.”
“Then I should write to her,” said Mr Rawlings. “When you get as old as I am, you won’t like to feel yourself alone amongst strangers, and without some one to connect you with the past of your childhood.”
“I will write to my aunt, then, as you have reminded me of my shortcomings,” said Ernest Wilton, laughing. “I promise you that at any rate.”
“That’s a good fellow. I’m sure you won’t regret it afterwards,” said Mr Rawlings, who was then proceeding to ask the young engineer something about his journey from California to Dakota when Seth, who had listened patiently to their conversation so far, now interrupted them.
“Come, mister,” said he, addressing Ernest Wilton, “I suggest—”
“Do call me by my right name, please,” interposed the good-humoured young fellow, speaking in such a sort of pleading way that Seth could not take offence.
“Waal, thin, ef yer are so partick’ler,” replied that worthy, with a very bad pretence of being angry, “kim along, Wilton, thaar now! and see to this mine of ourn that you’ve now got to look arter. How does yer like that style anyhow?”
“Decidedly better,” responded the young engineer, with his frank, light-hearted laugh, in which Mr Rawlings joined.
And the four then proceeded in the direction of the shaft, Seth leading the way, with Sailor Bill, as usual behind him.