CHAPTER XXIV
"That proves one thing," said Mark, after the brief excitement was at an end. "Some folks in this camp are pretty nosy."
"Maybe it will prove more'n that," returned Maybe Dixon.
"You think there are thieves around?" asked Bob, quickly.
"Would it be something to wonder at, lad—with so much gold in the hands of the miners? Some men would rather steal than work."
"That's a fact," said Si. "And we'll have to be careful of what we have."
"I'd like to know who that man was," observed Mark. "Did you get any kind of a look at him at all, Bob? You've got the best eyes in this crowd."
"He looked to be rather tall. I didn't see his face."
"Then you couldn't place him?"
"No."
They returned to the tent and the candle was again lit. By its feeble rays they put the gold in the bag and placed the bag in a tin box which had contained spices.
"I don't think we'd better use the hollow tree," said Si. "That feller, whoever he was, must have heard me mention it."
They knew not what to do with their gold, but at last dug a hole at the back of the tent and placed it, tin box and all, in that, covering it with dirt, a flat stone, and some pine boughs.
"It will take an hour's digging to get it out," said Maybe Dixon. "A thief would hardly dare to tackle the job, with so many around who know us."
"I've got an idea," said Bob. "Let us put a bogus bag in the hollow tree and see if that rascal comes for it."
This was considered a good scheme and was acted upon the next morning, a bag of sand being carefully tied up and sealed. It was placed in the hollow tree and some dead leaves strewn over it.
For the next few days the boys and their older partner worked as never before. They brought to light eight other small nuggets and some grains and dust, worth, all told, not less than three hundred dollars. With such good results, they did not mind the back-breaking labor, and if they were so stiff in the morning that they scarcely cared to move, nobody complained. They were working deep down in the sand and nobody was near them.
"How is it?" asked one old miner, coming up to Bob one day.
"Fair," answered the youth, as carelessly as he could.
"Not bringing out anything big, eh?"
"Not very big."
"I don't think this gulch is worth shucks. I am going elsewhere," and the old miner slouched off with his pick, shovel, and pan over his shoulder.
"That's where he is missing it," whispered Si. "But we can't tell him the truth—he'd come down on us and so would a hundred others, in no time. We want to keep as much of this gulch to ourselves as we can. We've got too many neighbors already."
"Si, you're gittin' to be a wise boy," remarked Maybe Dixon, with an approving nod of his head. "When you spot a good thing, be sure an' keep it to yourself, is my motto."
That evening Bob looked into the hollow tree and then burst into the tent in excitement.
"It's gone!"
"What?" asked Si, who was frying some fish Mark had brought in.
"The bag we put in the hollow tree."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Maybe Dixon. "Then that man was a thief after all."
"We can be thankful he had to sneeze," remarked Mark. "That was worth our whole capital."
"I'd give ten dollars to know who it was," said Bob.
"I go in for warning the rest of the miners around here," declared Si. "If there is a thief around all the honest men ought to know it."
This was considered good reasoning, and after supper Si and Mark strolled around to the various tents dotting the gulch and told of what had occurred.
"Well! well! so it's got that far, sonny," cried one brawny miner. "I will be on my guard after this. If anybody comes near my tent he'll get a dose of cold lead that won't agree with his digestion." And he tapped his big pistol significantly. All of the miners were thankful for being warned, and each promised to be on guard.
"Of course the would-be thief may be among those we warned," said Mark, on returning to his own tent. "But if so, he'll realize that we will stand for no more such treachery."
Several days passed, including Sunday, which was spent in resting up and in looking over their clothing. The boys also took a bath, in a pool of spring water back of the camp, which was both healthful and refreshing.
Monday afternoon found Mark and Bob working at the bottom of a deep sand hole near the end of the gulch. Si and Maybe Dixon were not far away. Each of the party had found some small nuggets, but nothing of great value.
"We must be careful here," said Mark, as he got to the bottom of the hole. "This sand is none too firm."
"Oh, I reckon it will hold," cried Bob, who was scraping away industriously with his shovel. "But we can't go much further, to my way of thinking. We have about reached bed rock."
"That is so. And I think—Oh! help!"
Mark got no further, for at that instant the sand began to crumble down on one side of the hole. He made a wild spring for the other side and caught hold of a rope which they had been using for hoisting sand that they wanted to wash. As he went up, the whole hole caved in, burying him up to his knees. Bob was completely covered and could do absolutely nothing to save himself.
Mark continued to call for aid, and soon Si and Maybe Dixon came running to the spot.
"Hullo, Mark is caught in the sand hole!" cried the former farm boy.
"Save me, and save Bob!" gasped Mark, who was trying his best to get away from the sand which held him.
"Where is Bob?"
"At the bottom of the hole."
"You don't say!" exclaimed Maybe Dixon. "Boys, we've got to dig him out an' do it quick, or maybe he'll be smothered!"
It was an easy task to drag Mark from the top of the opening, and this done they set to work to dig the sand from the hole. Mark and Maybe Dixon worked with their hands until Si brought up some shovels. In the meantime they called to two other miners who were not far away.
"A cave-in, eh?" said one of the miners, running up.
"Worse," said Mark. "Bob Billings is at the bottom of the hole."
"Gee shoo! Ye don't tell me!" cried the miner. "We must git him out."
"Thet's the talk, Jim," said his partner, and they pitched in with a will, and soon all on top of the ground were making the sand fly in all directions.
It was no easy matter to keep the sand from caving in again and one of the miners ran off and soon brought back several short boards, with which one side of the hole was shored up. Then, a few seconds later, Mark uttered a cry as he uncovered the top of the handle of a pick.
"Bob had hold of that when the cave-in came."
"Maybe he has hold of it still," suggested Maybe Dixon.
Mark took hold of the pick handle and pulled upon it.
"Bob! Bob!" he called out loudly.
"Here!" came faintly through the hole made by the moving of the pick handle.
"Hold fast, can you?"
"I'll try."
As many as could get at the handle pulled with might and main, and soon the handle came up, and the sand with it, forming a round mound. Then from the middle of the mound came Bob, white, limp, and all but exhausted.
"Bob, are you hurt?" asked Mark, anxiously, as he assisted his chum to firmer ground.
"I—I don't know," was the answer, and then poor Bob sank in a heap, too weak to stand. They made him as comfortable as they could and presently he got back his breath and sat up.
"I—I guess I am all right," he gasped. "But say, I don't want to be buried alive again!"
"Shouldn't think you would want to," said Si. "I wouldn't want to have it happen to me for a million dollars!"
"I thought I'd never be dug out."
"We went to work as fast as we could."
"I know it, and I am very thankful," said Bob, and thanked the miners from outside who had come to his aid. Then he limped to the tent, leaning on Si's arm, and Mark came limping behind the pair.
"That is one of the perils of mining," said Maybe Dixon. "You ought never to go into a deep hole unless you have the sides properly shored up."
"I'll remember that," said Bob.
"And so will I," added Mark.
Neither of the boys suffered much from the cave-in. But it taught them a valuable lesson, and they took care never to be caught again in that manner.