"Wal, now," and Ham turned a puzzled and frowning face on the two boys, the moment Colonel Fremont had vanished down the street, "what are you tew yunks a-dewin' in Sacremento City? A-tryin' tew git yur necks stretched, you blamed idgits? I'll be durned, if I wouldn't like tew spank both on you!" and the frown on his face deepened. "I—"
"Oh, Ham," broke in Thure excitedly, "we've got the most wonderful story to tell! And it all comes from that murdered miner, who, before he died, told us about a wonderfully rich mine that he had discovered; and it was to get the map to this mine that those two dreadful men tried to get us hanged—"
"Whoa—up! Jest pull up y'ur hosses a bit," and Ham stared in astonishment at the excited boy. "You're a-goin' tew fast for me tew keep up. Come 'long back intew th' hotel, an' tell me y'ur story straight, not in jerks an' chunks," and he led the way back into the City Hotel, and to a quiet corner in the big waiting-room, where they could talk undisturbed and unheard.
Here, in low but excited voices and after exacting promises of the utmost secrecy, Thure and Bud told their wonderful story to Ham.
"Wal, I'll be tee-totally durned, if it don't sound good!" declared that worthy, when, at last, the tale had been completed. "But thar's lots of mighty good soundin' yarns goin' 'round camp, 'bout wonderful gold mountains an' caves of gold. Howsomever, I never heer'd tell on anybudy's really findin' any on 'em; an', I reckon, 'most on 'em is jest lies. But that thar map seems tew give y'ur yarn a look like th' truth; an', I reckon, them tew skunks must have believed th' yarn, or they wouldn't have ben so pow'ful anxious tew git th' map. Gosh, if it should prove true!" and Ham's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed and he drew in a deep breath. "I'll be durned, if it should prove true, if I don't go back tew my old home in Vermont, that I ain't seen since I was a yunk 'bout y'ur age, an' buy up th' old farm, an' build a big house on it, an'—Gosh, a'mighty, if that yarn of y'urn ain't sot me tew dreamin'!" and Ham came back to the earth, looking a bit foolish. "More'n likely it's all a lie; an' thar I was a buyin' farms an' a-buildin' houses! Queer how th' gold gits intew th' blood an' makes all humans tarnal idgits, now ain't it?" and he shook his head wonderingly.
"But, there's the map, and the big gold nugget, and all the gold that the murderers got from him," protested Thure. "He must have found some kind of a mine to have got that gold; and crazy folks wouldn't draw real maps of the gold-diggings they only imagined they had discovered."
"An' you've got that map, an' that hunk of gold with you?" and again the eager light shone in Ham's eyes. "Wal, I reckon I'd like tew have a look at that nugget an' map."
"But, not here," interjected Bud anxiously, as he glanced suspiciously around the big room at a number of roughly dressed men, who were standing in front of the bar or seated at tables playing cards. "I think that we had better wait until we get to our dads, before we show up the map and the nugget. We can't be too careful. Now, how comes it that you are in Sacramento City, Ham?" and the eyes of both boys turned inquiringly to the face of their big friend.
"Reckon you're right 'bout th' map an' nugget," admitted Ham reluctantly. "Leastwise I don't blame you for bein' some keerful after y'ur late experience," and his own eyes glanced sharply about the room. "Now, as tew my bein' here, that's soon explained. Y'ur dads an' th' rest sent me in tew git a load of camp-supplies—flour, bacon, sugar, coffee an' sech like things tew eat, 'long with some diggin' tools an' extra clothin'. Got in a leetle afore noon; an', heerin' thar was a murder trial on in th' hoss-market, I hit th' trail for th' market tew once, bein' some anxious tew see who was a-goin' tew have their necks stretched. Wal, if I didn't 'most have tew push my heart back down my throat with my fist, when I seed that you tew yunks was th' criminals!"
"But you made things hum, when you got started," and the eyes of Bud glowed with admiration, as they rested on the face of his big friend. "You just straightened things out in no time. My, but it did do me good to see you give Brokennose that punch on the jaw!"
"Same here," grinned Ham. "But it riled me all up tew have them tew curs git away. If ever I lay my eyes on either one on 'em ag'in," and his eyes glinted savagely, "thar won't be no need of no rope tew hang 'em, th' cowardly murderin' skunks!" and he banged his great fist down on the table so hard that nearly every one in the room jumped and turned their eyes curiously in his direction.
For a few minutes longer Ham and the two boys sat talking together, then Ham suddenly straightened up.
"Wal, if I ain't forgettin' all 'bout them supplies in th' excitement," he said, hurriedly rising. "Come on, yunks, I've got tew hustle an' make all them purchases afore night; for we've got tew git out of here afore sun-up tew-morrer," and Ham led the way out of the hotel, to where he had left a couple of sturdy little pack-horses tied to the trees, when he had rushed off to see the hanging.
An open space, under the overhanging branches of a huge evergreen oak, was now selected for the camp for the night; and hither Ham and the two boys brought their horses, and, after unsaddling and unbridling them, gave them a scanty supply of grass, bought at fifty cents a big hand full, and a little barley, at a dollar a quart. Then Bud, the two boys had drawn cuts to see who should stay, was left to watch the camp, and Ham and Thure started out to make the needed purchases.
The shops were crowded with men buying goods to take with them to the gold-mines, or diggings, as the mines were almost universally called, and paying for them with gold-dust, the name given to the fine particles of rough gold dug out of the ground, at the rate of about sixteen dollars to the ounce of gold. On every counter stood a pair of scales, with which to weigh the gold; and it was a curious sight to Thure to see these men, whenever they bought anything, pull out a little bag or other receptacle, take out a few pinches of what looked like grains of coarse yellow sand, and drop them on the scales, until the required weight was reached, in payment for the purchase. Ham, himself, had only gold-dust with which to make his payments; and it made Thure feel quite like a real miner, when he handed the little gold-bag to him and told him to attend to the paying, while he did the selecting of the goods needed.
By sundown all the purchases were made and carried to the camp and everything made ready for an early start in the morning.
After supper—they got their own suppers, all deciding that the food at the hotels was too rich for their blood, or, rather, pockets—Thure and Bud, boy-like, notwithstanding their weariness, wanted to take a little stroll about the town; but Ham promptly and emphatically vetoed any such a move on their part.
"I'll be durned if you dew!" he declared decisively, the instant the subject was broached. "You'll stay right here in camp, an' crawl intew y'ur blankets, an' git tew sleep jest as quick as th' good Lord'll let you. You shore have had all th' excitement you need for one day; an' th' devil only knows what trouble you'd be a-gettin' intew, if you was allowed tew run loose, promiscus like, about th' streets of Sacermento City at night. It's bad enough by day, as you sart'in otter know; but by night! Not for tew yunks like you!" and Ham shook his head so decidedly and frowningly that neither boy ventured even a word in protest against his rather arbitrary decision.
But, although they remained in camp, Thure and Bud never forgot that first night in Sacramento City. The scenes about them were so unique, so weirdly and romantically beautiful, so suggestive of dramatic possibilities, that they impressed themselves indelibly on memories new to such sensations.
As the sun went down a gray chill fog arose from the river and the lowlying shores and fell down over the little city like a thin wet veil, blurring and softening and reddening the light from the innumerable camp-fires, built under the dark shadows of overhanging trees, and the broad glows coming from canvas houses and tents, lighted from within, and the bright glares that poured through the doors and windows of the more brilliantly illuminated dance-halls and gambling-hells, giving to all a weird and dream-like aspect, fascinating, romantic, and beautiful.
Their camp was situated some distance from the center of the city's activities; but near enough for the sounds of its wild revelries to reach their ears, softened a little by the distance. A dozen or more bands were playing a dozen or more different tunes from a dozen or more different dance-halls, all near together along the levee and the neighboring streets; and, sometimes, high above even these discordant sounds, rose the human voice, in loud song, or boisterous shout, or peals of rough laughter. Around some of the near-by camp-fires men had gathered and were singing the loved home melodies; and from one of these groups came the voice of a woman in song, sounding singularly sweet and entrancing in the midst of all those harsher sounds. Above their heads a gentle wind blew murmuringly and whisperingly through the wide-spreading branches of the evergreen oak; and, at their feet, snapped and crackled the ruddy flames of their own camp-fire.
By nine o'clock the lights of the surrounding camp-fires began to grow dimmer, and the songs and the laughter and the talking of the groups around them ceased. All these were seeking their beds or blankets; and soon only the noise and the music, the songs and the shouts of the revelers broke the stillness of the night.
For a little while, before closing their eyes in sleep, Thure and Bud lay in their blankets listening to these distant sounds of wild revelry.
Suddenly, above the music, above the songs and the shouts and the laughter, rang out the sharp—crack—crack—of two pistol shots, followed by an instant's lull in the sounds; and then the music, the songs, the shouts, and the laughter went on, louder and madder than ever.
At the sound of the pistol shots both boys had leaped out of their blankets and stood listening intently; but Ham had only grunted and rolled over in his blanket.
"Ham! Ham! Did you hear that?" called Thure excitedly. "Someone must have been shot!"
"Shut up, an' crawl back intew y'ur blankets," growled Ham. "'Tain't none of our bus'ness, if some fool did git shot. It's probably some drunken row. Whiskey's 'most always back of every shootin' scrap. It beats me," and the growl deepened, "how full-growed men, with full-growed brains, can put a drop of that stuff intew their mouths, after they've once seen what it does tew a feller's interlect, makin' a man intew a bloody brute or a dirty beast or a grinnin' monkey; an' yit, th' best an' th' wisest on 'em goes right on drinkin' it. It shore gits me! Now," and he turned his wrath again on the two boys, "git right back intew y'ur blankets, an' shut y'ur mouths an' y'ur eyes, an' keep 'em shut till mornin'," and once again and with a final deep rumbling growl, he rolled over in his blanket and lay still.
Thure and Bud crawled slowly back into their blankets; and, at last, with the sounds of the distant revelry still ringing in their ears, fell asleep.
The next morning, a good hour before sunrise, Thure and Bud found themselves suddenly tumbled out of their blankets and the grinning face of Ham bending over them.
"Sleepyheads!" and, reaching down, he gripped each boy by his coat collar, the night had been chilly and both had slept in their coats, jerked him to his feet and shook him violently, "Wake up!" and, suddenly letting go, he sent both boys staggering from him. "Thar, them's my patented double-j'inted yunk-wakers," and he shook both of his big fists in the faces of the two boys, "warranted tew wake th' soundest sleepin' yunk that ever rolled himself up in a blanket, in seven an' three-quarters seconds by th' watch, or money refunded. For testimonials, see Bud Randolph and Thure Conroyal," and the grin broadened on his face, until it threatened to engulf all his features.
"It sure does the waking all right," laughed Thure; "and you can have my testimony to that effect any time you wish it."
For an hour all hands were busy, getting the breakfast, eating, packing and saddling and bridling the horses; and then, just as the sun, like a great globe of gold, rose above the gold-filled mountains of their hopes to the east and shone down on the waters of the Sacramento, Ham gave the word to start, and, leading one of his well-loaded pack-horses on either side of him, he strode off, headed for the rough trail to Hangtown, followed by Thure and Bud, driving their pack-horses before them.
As they passed along by the various camps in the outskirts of the town, a man, holding a long-handled frying-pan over the coals of his camp-fire, looked up and then remarked casually:
"Queer shootin' scrap that down on the levee last night!"
"Heer'd th' shootin', but that's all I heer'd," answered Ham, halting for a moment. "What might thar be queer 'bout it?"
"Both on 'em bosum friends 'til they gits a lot of French Ike's whiskey down 'em. Then one calls t'other a liar, an' both on 'em pulls their guns an' shoots; an' both on 'em falls dead, th' bullets goin' through th' heart of each one on 'em," answered the man.
"Hump! Nuthin' queer 'bout that!" grunted Ham. "That's a common thing for whiskey tew dew. Git up!" and he continued on his way.
The trail to Hangtown, after leaving the Sacramento Valley, entered the rough and picturesque regions of the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, where the traveling was slow and difficult, especially with heavily loaded pack-horses; and, although the distance from Sacramento City, as the crow flies, was scarcely more than forty miles, yet it was not until near the middle of the afternoon of the third day that our friends came in sight of the rude log cabins and tents of Hangtown. They had climbed to the summit of a particularly rough hill and had just rounded a huge pile of rocks, when Ham brought his pack-horses to a sudden halt.
"Thar's Hangtown," he said, and pointed down the steep side of the hill into what was little more than a wide ravine, where a number of rudely built log houses and dirty-looking tents lay scattered along the sides and the bottom of the declivity and men could be seen at work with picks and shovels, digging up the hard stony ground, or, with gold-pans in their hands, washing the dirt thus dug in the waters of the little creek that flowed through the bottom of the ravine.
"Hurrah!" yelled both boys, taking off their hats and swinging them around their heads the moment their eyes caught sight of the houses and the tents.
"At last we are where gold is being actually dug up out of the ground!" exclaimed Thure enthusiastically, a moment later, as he sat on the back of his horse, watching, with glowing face and eyes, the men of the pick and the shovel toiling below.
"It shore does have tew be dug up out of th' ground, at least th' most on it," agreed Ham, grinning. "More diggin' than gold, th' most on us find."
"Oh, come! Let's hurry. I want to get to dad," and Bud started off down the hill excitedly, with Thure and Ham hurrying along behind him.
The side of the hill was seamed with small water worn gulches and strewn with rocks and the logs of fallen trees; and the trail down to the bottom wound and twisted and turned to avoid these obstructions, until it seemed to the impatient boys, that, for every step downward, they had to go a dozen steps to get around some gulch or huge rock or fallen tree; but, at last, they reached the bottom, and were actually on the very ground where men were digging gold out of the dirt.
"Now, where are our dads and the rest?" and Thure looked curiously and excitedly around him at the various groups of miners hard at work with their picks or shovels or pans or other washing machines. "I can't see anybody in sight that looks like them—Oh, there is Dick Dickson!" and he jumped excitedly off his horse and ran up to a miner at work near by, who was about to wash a pan of dirt, followed by Bud.
"Hello, Dick! Didn't know you in them clothes," and Thure held out his hand to the miner, whose only dress was a broad-brimmed hat, a red woollen shirt, and a pair of trousers.
"Glad to see you," and the miner set down the pan of dirt and gripped the hands of both the boys. "Had to come to the diggings with the rest, did you? Well, it's hard work; but the gold is here!" and his eyes sparkled.
"Are you going to wash that pan of dirt, Dick?" and the eyes of Thure turned excitedly to the pan full of dirt that the miner had placed on the ground at the sudden appearance of the boys.
"Yes," answered Dickson, grinning; "and it's the first pan that looks like pay-dirt that I've taken out of my new mine over yonder alongside of that big rock," and he pointed to a huge rock that jutted up above the ground a couple of rods away, where the boys could see a pile of dirt that had been thrown out of a hole dug down close to the upper side of the rock; "and so I am just a little anxious to see how it pans out."
"Don't—don't let us keep you from washing it," and Bud's face flushed with excitement. "We, too, would like to see how it pans out, wouldn't we Thure?"
"You bet!" was Thure's emphatic rejoinder. "I hope we bring you good luck, Dick. Now, let's see how you do it."
"All right. I sure need some good luck. Well, here goes," and with hands that trembled a little with excitement, for the washing of that pan full of dirt might mean a small fortune, he bent and picked up the gold-pan.
The creek was only a few feet away and Dickson hurried thither, followed by the two eager boys, while Ham, a good-natured grin on his face, stood guard over the horses.
Dickson first submerged the pan in the water and held it there until the dirt was thoroughly soaked, while with one hand he crushed and broke the larger lumps and stirred the mass with his fingers, until all the dirt was dissolved, and a great deal of it had been borne away, in a thick muddy cloud, by the current of the stream. He then tipped the pan a little, at the same time giving it a slight whirling motion, holding it with both his hands, which soon caused all the remaining dirt to float away in the water, except a little coarse black gravel that covered the bottom of the pan in a thin layer.
"Now," and Dickson straightened up, the pan in his hands, his face flushed with excitement, for already his eyes had caught the yellow glitter of gold, shining amongst the coarse grains of gravel, "we'll see how hard I've struck it," and he thrust his fingers down into the wet black gravel that covered the bottom of the pan, and moved them slowly about in it, bending his head down close to the pan, so that his eyes could catch every gleam of gold.
"Is there any? Is there any?" and Thure, in his anxiety to see, almost bunted his head into the head of Dickson.
"Is there any! Whoop!" and Dickson let out a yell that nearly startled both boys off their feet. "Is there any! Just look there! And there! And there!" and with a trembling finger he pointed, as he spoke, to little rough bits of gold, a little larger than pin-heads, that fairly flecked with yellow the bottommost layer of black gravel.
Thure and Bud shouted with delight; and Ham and half a dozen of the miners at work near by came up on the run, the faces of all showing the liveliest interest.
"Whoop! I've struck it! Struck it rich, boys!" and the miner, almost beside himself with excitement, swiftly gathered the golden bits out of the pan and spread them out on the palm of his hand where all could see. "A good ten ounces!" he almost shouted, as he tossed them up and down to test their weight. "One hundred and sixty dollars! And out of the first pan full of pay-dirt! Gee-wilikins, but won't this be good news for Mollie!"
"You shore have struck it, Dickson," declared Ham, who, with glowing eyes, had been examining the bits of gold on the palm of the miner's hand. "I reckon thar's a pocketful of it where that comed from," and he glanced toward the big rock. "That thar rock acted like a big riffle an' stopped th' gold a-comin' down th' stream that hit ag'in it. I'm mighty glad you've hit y'ur luck at last," and the big hand of Ham went out in a hearty grip of the miner's calloused palm. "You shore deserve it, Dickson."
The congratulations of all were equally hearty and apparently free from envy; but Dickson was too eager to further test his discovery to wait long to listen to congratulation; and, hurriedly pocketing the gold, he grabbed up the pan and rushed back to his "mine" by the side of the big rock.
"Supposing we wait and see him wash out another pan of dirt," and Thure turned his flushed face and glowing eyes eagerly to Ham. "I never was so much interested in anything in my life."
"You shore have got the gold-fever an' got it bad," laughed Ham. "An', I reckon, you're not th' only boy hereabouts that is a-sufferin' with it," and he glanced at Bud's flushed face. "Wal, I'm some interested myself in seein' how Dickson's luck holds out; so we'll wait tew see the washin' of another pan."
In less than ten minutes the excited miner was back with another pan full of the precious dirt, which he at once began to wash, his nervous excitement being so great that the pan shook and trembled in his hands. Suddenly, in the midst of his washing, he jumped to his feet with a wild yell.
"A nugget! A nugget!" and he held aloft in one hand a little chunk of solid gold, about as large as an egg and nearly of the same shape, only rougher in outline.
By this time quite a little crowd of miners had gathered around the lucky man; and handshakes and claps on the shoulders and verbal congratulations were showered on him from all sides, while the nugget was passed from hand to hand, with many wise and otherwise comments as to its weight and probable value and the likelihood of there being others like it where it came from. In the excitement caused by the finding of the nugget, the remaining dirt in the pan was forgotten, until Ham, suddenly remembering, turned to the excited Dickson.
"Better finish cleanin' out th' pan, Dick," he said. "Thar's probably more gold in it."
"Gosh, if I didn't forget it!" and Dickson grabbed up the pan and began washing its contents with feverish haste.
In a few minutes he arose and held out the pan, his hands trembling.
"There! Just look there!" he cried, pointing to the glitter of gold in the black sand that covered the bottom of the pan. "If there isn't a good fifteen ounces of gold there, then I miss my guess!" and he broke into a happy laugh. "Well, boys, my luck has turned at last! And there is a little woman up there in that little log cabin that has got to know about it at once," and Dickson dropped the pan and started on the run up the side of the hill toward a little log house that stood in a cluster of pines halfway up its side, followed by cheers from the miners, who appeared to be almost as rejoiced over his good fortune, as if it had been their own.
All this had been very interesting and very exciting to Thure and Bud; but now that the climax had been passed their thoughts turned at once to their fathers.
"Now," and Thure caught hold of Ham's coat sleeve, "now that we have seen how they get the gold from the ground, take us to our dads. We are more anxious than ever to get to them as quickly as possible."
"I'm pow'ful glad Dickson made that strike," Ham commented, when they were again on their way. "He's been workin' like a hoss for months, without hardly gittin' a sight of color; but he's had th' pluck tew keep a-diggin'. I reckon it's th' Leetle Woman up in th' cabin that's kept him a-goin'. She's pluck clean through an' has stood right by th' side of Dick, no matter what sort of luck fate dished out tew him. I shore am glad Dick has hit it for th' Leetle Woman's sake, as well as his own. Now, 'bout y'ur dads. That's their house up thar, 'bout a dozen rods beyond Dickson's. But, I reckon, we won't find none of 'em at home this time of th' day," and he turned his horses into a rude trail that wound up the side of the hill toward the little grove of pine trees, in which the boys could see the little cabin where Dickson lived and beyond that a larger log house.
During this time Dickson had been speeding up the hill, shouting and yelling the good news at the top of his voice as he ran. Suddenly the boys saw the door of the cabin thrown open, and a woman rush out and run madly down the rough trail toward the miner, her long unconfined hair streaming out behind her.
"Whoop! I've struck it! Struck it rich, Mollie!" they heard Dickson yell, while from down the hill rang out cheer after cheer from the little group of miners now gathered about Dickson's find and watching the meeting between the lucky man and the "Little Woman," as nearly all the miners in Hangtown called Mrs. Dickson.
A few minutes later Dickson and the "Little Woman," hand in hand, like two happy children, ran past them on their way down to the wonderful find.
Thure and Bud, and even Ham, cheered and yelled as they ran by; and the woman turned her shining eyes in their direction and waved her free hand and shouted a welcome to the two boys.
"I shore am glad that Dickson made that strike," Ham again remarked, with something that looked suspiciously like moisture in his eyes. "He's a deservin' cuss; an' th' Leetle Woman's ben like a mother tew us all."
Ham's expectations were fulfilled; for they found the log house vacant, with a sign on the door that read: "BACK ABOUT SUNDOWN."
"Wal, jest dismount an' unpack an' make y'urselves tew home. We'll git things all straightened out afore we start out tew hunt up th' delinquents," and Ham began unpacking his horses.
But Thure and Bud had to have a look inside the house, before they untied a rope or unbuckled a strap; and, the moment they dismounted, they rushed to the door and entered.
The house was a very rude affair—just four walls of logs, roughly fitted with an ax and laid one on top of the other to a height of seven feet, enclosing a space some twenty-five feet long by eighteen feet wide, with a bark roof, ground floor, a door cut through the logs in the middle of one side, and three windows, one in each side and one in the end opposite the fireplace. The fireplace was very roughly constructed of stones and sticks, plastered together with a clay-like mud, and with the chimney built entirely outside of the house.
The furniture was in keeping with the house. The table was the split halves of a log, cut about ten feet long and laid side by side, with their flat sides up, supported by four short posts driven into the ground near the center of the room. The chairs were blocks of wood, set on end, reënforced by a couple of old boxes and two miners' easy chairs, a unique production, made by cutting down an empty flour barrel to something of the shape of an armed easy chair and attaching two rockers to the bottom. The seats of these chairs were often lined and stuffed in good shape and had the comfortable feel and rock of the more costly chairs of civilization—and what more need a miner ask? Along the side of the room opposite the door ran a double tier of rude bunks, one side of the beds being supported by posts driven into the ground and the other by the logs of the wall. On the wall near the fireplace hung the frying-pans and the other rude cooking utensils; and in a corner were piled the bags, barrels, kegs, and boxes containing their camp supplies.
When you are told that this, at that time in Hangtown, was considered a rather luxurious style of living, you may be able to form something of an idea of the kind of style in which the average miner lived.
"Well, they don't put on much style, do they?" and the eyes Thure turned to Bud twinkled with excitement and interest.
"Don't they! Just feast your eyes on this!" and Bud, dropping down into the soft seat of one of the "easy" chairs, leaned back comfortably and began rocking. "Now, if this isn't style and comfort, then I don't know what style and comfort are. Better try it," and he winked toward the other "easy" chair.
Thure at once profited by the suggestion.
"Well, I swun to goodness!" he declared, as he rocked back and forth in the novel chair, "if this doesn't beat mother's easy rocker for comfort. I reckon dad will have to make her one, when we get back home," and he grinned.
"Say," and Ham strode into the house, a bag of flour on one shoulder, a box of canned stuff under one arm, and a grin all over his face, "if you yunks think you've come up here tew dew nuthin' but tew set an' rock in y'ur dads' easy chairs, you've got another think comin' an' comin' quick. Now, git them packs off th' backs of y'ur hosses an' intew th' house. This ain't no Home of Cumfort for lazy yunks. Out with you!" and, dropping the bag of flour and the box in the corner, he started for the two boys.
Thure and Bud "outed" as fast as their four legs could take them; and soon were busy getting the packs off their horses and the goods into the house. When this had been done and the horses had been cared for, the sun was nearing the tops of the western mountains; and it was decided not to hunt up the "delinquents," as Ham called them, but to await their return at the house; and, in the meantime, to prepare such a supper for them as seldom blessed a miner's eyes and excited his appetite, from the delicacies Mrs. Conroyal and Mrs. Randolph had sent in the packs of the boys. Then, in addition, Thure and Bud determined to try and give their fathers, who, of course, supposed the two boys were still at home with their mothers and sisters on the rancho, a little surprise. By keeping a sharp lookout down the trail they could be warned of the coming of the men in sufficient time to put their surprise in operation.
Accordingly they got everything in readiness, first by tying their horses out of sight behind a clump of bushes and removing every outward sign of their presence, and then by drawing the two easy chairs up close together in front of the door and placing one of the blocks of wood used as seats in front of each chair. When they saw their fathers coming, they would take their places in these chairs, lean back comfortably in them, place their feet at a comfortable angle on top of the blocks of wood, and, thus sitting cozily in the two easy chairs, be the first objects to meet their fathers' eyes on entering the house. They fancied that this unexpected sight might surprise the two men some; and they were not disappointed.
Fortunately for the success of their "surprise," Mr. Conroyal and Mr. Randolph led the little procession of miners that appeared a few minutes after sundown, coming up the trail leading to the log house.
"Here they come!" cried Bud, who was stationed at the window overlooking the trail, the moment the men appeared in sight. "Hurry, Thure, and get into your chair."
The two boys quickly seated themselves in the barrel-rockers, perched their feet comfortably on top of the blocks of wood, leaned back comfortably into the hollows of their chairs, and fixed their eyes on the door, their faces shining with excitement.
At last the door was flung open and the big frame of Noel Conroyal, backed by that of Rad Randolph, appeared in the doorway.
For a moment both men stopped right where they were, and stood staring in blank astonishment at the faces of the two boys sitting in the two chairs.
"Walk right in," invited Thure, his eyes dancing.
"Yes, come right in and have supper with us," urged Bud.
For an instant longer the two men stood staring; and then both of them made a rush for the two boys; and, as they were almost instantly followed by Dill Conroyal, Thure's older brother, Rex Holt, Thure's cousin, and Frank Holt, Thure's uncle and the father of Rex Holt, you can imagine the excitement and confusion that reigned in that log house and how swiftly the questions flew back and forth for the next few minutes. The men had been away from their homes and their dear ones for nearly a year now; and, naturally, were exceedingly anxious to learn what had been going on during their absence. Suddenly, when the excitement had quieted down a little, Mr. Conroyal's face clouded and something that looked very much like a frown gathered on his forehead, as he turned to Thure.
"But, young man," and the frown on his face deepened, "how comes it that you are here, against my express commands? I left you at home to care for your mother and sister and the rancho. Why have you deserted your trust?"
"Oh, dad," and Thure turned excitedly to his father, "the most wonderful thing has happened! We found a dying miner, who had been robbed and stabbed; and he, just before he died, gave us a map that tells us how to find a Cave of Gold that he had discovered; and mother, our mothers, thought you ought to know about it; and so we are here, to get you all to help find this wonderful Cave of Gold. The miner said that the bottom of the cave was covered with gold nuggets, just covered with them, dad."
"And he gave us one of the nuggets, a whopper!" broke in Bud.
"And your mothers were foolish enough to believe such an improbable tale and to send you here on such a wildgoose chase!" and something that began to look very much like anger darkened Mr. Conroyal's face. "Why, the camp is full of such tales; but no sensible man ever pays any attention to them."
"But, dad, you haven't heard our story yet; and you haven't seen the map and the nugget," insisted Thure eagerly. "I am sure you will not blame us for coming when you know all."
"Well, my son," and Mr. Conroyal's lips tightened grimly, "we'll have a look at that map and nugget and hear that wonderful story of yours and then, if it doesn't look as if it might pan out true, back you will start for home at sun-up to-morrow morning. What do you say, Rad?" and he turned to Mr. Randolph. "The boys must be made to understand that they can't desert a trust like that at every wild tale they hear."
"Right," agreed Mr. Randolph. "They start back for home to-morrow morning, if their tale does not sound reasonable enough to make good their coming. They were all the men folks left that the women could depend on; and the reason must be a strong one to justify their deserting them."
"But, we did not desert them," expostulated Bud. "They gave us permission to come, told us to come, because they thought you ought to know about the Cave of Gold and the map, and there was no one else to send," and Bud's cheeks flushed a little with disappointment and indignation.
"Wal, now," and the good-natured face of Ham loomed up between the two boys, "I reckon, if you all will jest take a look at that thar table, you'll stop y'ur talkin' and git tew eatin' some sudden. 'Tain't once in a dog's age that a miner in Hangtown can sot down tew a table like that," and Ham waved both hands proudly in the direction of the split-log table, on which he had spread out, with lavish hands, the cakes, pies, jellies, fruits, butter, eggs and the other good things sent from home, together with the results of his own more substantial cooking, fried bacon, nicely browned flapjacks, and steaming hot coffee.
"Whoop!" yelled Rex. "Me for the eat!" and, grabbing up one of the blocks of wood, he made a rush for the table, followed by all present.
That was a jolly supper. The sight of the unaccustomed good things to eat put everybody in good nature—and no wonder! for their eyes had not seen an egg or a cake or a pie or a hunk of butter, to say nothing of the jelly and the fruit, in Hangtown before for six months; and nobody knows how good these things look and taste, until they have been without even a smell of them for some months, and living on a steady diet of salt pork and beans and man-made bread. But, at length, as all good things will, the eating came to an end; and then, almost involuntarily, all eyes turned toward Thure and Bud. Their stomachs were filled; and now all were in the best possible condition to listen to their story.
"Now, for that dead miner's wonderful tale," and Conroyal turned to Thure.
"Jest wait a minit afore you begin," and Ham arose suddenly from the table. "We want no outside listeners tew this tale," and, hurrying outside, he made a hasty circuit of the house, to assure himself that there were no eavesdroppers. When he came in he remarked, by way of answer to the inquiring glances turned in his direction: "You will know why I'm so cautious-like afore th' yunks come tew th' end of their tale; an', I reckon," and he glanced around the circle of somewhat startled faces that surrounded the table, "afore they begin, we'd better have it understood by all that thar is tew be no talkin' outside 'bout this matter, that it's tew be kept as close as our own skins tew ourselves. It has already caused th' death of th' old miner, an' mighty nigh th' death of them yunks thar, as you'll soon larn, an' death is still hot on th' trail, so it's jest good boss-sense for us tew be cautious-like. We don't want no more killin's, if we can help it. Now, I reckon, you can begin y'ur yarn," and, seating himself, he nodded his head to Thure and Bud.
You may be sure that, after these ominous actions and words of Ham, there was no lack of interest in the faces now turned toward the two boys.
Thure began the story; and, helped here and there by Bud and often interrupted by the angry exclamations of his excited hearers, he told the remarkable tale, from the killing ofEl Ferozand the death of the old miner to their own startling arrest for murder in the streets of Sacramento City and narrow rescue from the hangman's rope by the providential coming of Hammer Jones and Colonel Fremont.
"And those two cowardly skunks got away!" almost yelled Conroyal, as he banged his big fist down on the table, his face white with wrath. "And after they had almost succeeded in getting two innocent boys hanged for a crime they committed themselves!"
"They sart'in did," answered Ham grimly. "An' what's more th' cunnin' devils like as not are still on th' trail of that thar skin map th' old miner gave th' boys. That's why I reckon we'll need tew be some cautious."
"But, where is this wonderful skin map and that big gold nugget?" cried Rex Holt, his eyes shining and his face flushing. "Let us have a look at them," and he jumped to his feet and leaned across the table, so as to be nearer to Thure.
"Dill, you and Rex just take a run around the house to see that the coast is still clear, before the boys show up the gold nugget and the skin map," and Mr. Conroyal glanced sharply toward the door and the windows. "As Ham says, we want no eavesdroppers in this case."
Dill and Rex at once sprang to the door; and, moving in opposite directions, each slowly made the circuit of the house, their keen eyes searching the surrounding darkness. They neither saw nor heard anything suspicious.
"Now, we'll have a look at that map and gold nugget," Mr. Conroyal said, as soon as Rex and Dill had returned and reported the coast clear. "Of course," and he glanced around the circle of faces, "it is understood that all that is said and seen here to-night is to be kept secret by all, whether or not the search for the Cave of Gold is made."
"Yes, yes!" cried Dill impatiently. "We're all in on it together and must not breathe a word about it to an outsider. We all understand that, don't we?"
All the heads around the table quickly nodded assent.
"Now, then, let us have that map and gold nugget," and he turned excitedly to Thure and Bud.
Thure at once thrust his hand under the bosom of his shirt and under his left shoulder and pulled out the miner's little buckskin bag. Then he opened the bag and pulled out the map.
"The skin map," he said, and, laying it down on the table, he swiftly turned the bag upside down and dumped the gold nugget down on top of it. "And here is the gold nugget."
For a moment no one moved; but all sat staring at the big yellow chunk of metal, shining ruddily in the light of the flickering candles, as it dropped from the bag and came to a rest on the skin map and lay there on the table in front of Thure.
"Gosh, that sart'in looks like th' real stuff!" and the big hand of Ham reached out and picked up the nugget and hefted it critically. "Solid gold!" he declared, his eyes shining. "Jest heft it, Con," and he passed the nugget to Conroyal. "Wal, I reckon you yunks have made good. Now, let's see what's on that thar piece of skin," and, picking up the map, he smoothed it out on the table and stared down on it, while as many heads as possible crowded close to his head and stared down on the map with him.
"John Stackpole, did anyone here ever hear of a feller by th' name of John Stackpole?" and Ham raised his head and glanced around.
"I know the man," declared Frank Holt, the father of Rex, whose snowy white hair gave him a patriarchal appearance. "I remember now. That's the name the fellow gave I saw in Coleman's store 'bout two weeks ago. He had a peculiar scar, shaped something like a horseshoe over one of his eyes."
"That's the man! You remember that queer-shaped scar over one of his eyes, don't you?" and Bud turned excitedly to Thure.
"Yes," answered Thure. "He must have just got back from the cave. What was he doing, Uncle Frank?" and he turned eagerly to Mr. Holt.
"Well, he certainly looked as if he had just come out of a cave," grinned Holt. "Clothes all in rags and dirty, and hair and beard all over his head, except his eyes and nose and mouth. But," and his face lighted up, "he seemed to have plenty of gold-dust; for, while I was standing there watching him curiously, he picked out a good suit of clothes and paid for them out of a bag heavy with gold, gold that was mostly small nuggets.
"'Struck it, pard,' and I saw Coleman's eyes glisten, as he gathered in them small nuggets, for the gold wasn't no Hangtown gold. Anybody with eyes could see that.
"'Just a pocket,' answered the man. 'But good and rich, for a pocket.'
"'Whereabouts might it be, if I ain't asking too much?' queried Coleman, who I could see was some excited over that bag full of little gold nuggets, as he placed the bundle of clothes down in front of the man.
"'Thank you,' answered the man gruffly, and, picking up the bundle, he hurried out of the store, considerably to the disappointment of Coleman.
"Now, I calculate, that must have been our man, for he certainly told Coleman that his name was John Stackpole, when he asked him if any message had been left there for him. I remember it all plain, because I got some excited over that bag full of little gold nuggets myself; but I didn't call to mind the name until Ham called it out."
For many minutes the map and the gold nugget were now passed from hand to hand and thoroughly examined by all, while the tongues of all wagged with excited comments and Thure and Bud were often called upon to repeat parts of their story. But, at length, Noel Conroyal, who had been elected President of the Never-Give-Up California Mining Company, into which our good friends, the Conroyals, the Randolphs, the Holts, and Hammer Jones, had organized themselves, stood up and pounded on the table with his big fist.
"The Never-Give-Up California Mining Company will come to order," he said, the moment the talking ceased; "for the purpose of considering the matter laid before it by Thure Conroyal and Bud Randolph and to determine what action, if any, shall be taken."
"Oh, cut out the big talk, dad, and just let's talk it over together," protested Dill a bit impatiently; for, when Mr. Conroyal assumed the office and the dignities of the President of the Never-Give-Up California Mining Company, he was apt to be a little formal and long-winded. "We don't need the formalities and they take up time."
"All right, if that is the wish of the company," agreed Mr. Conroyal good-naturedly. "I only wanted to get to doing something besides talking."
"I think," declared Ham, "that, now that we've heer'd th' story an' seen th' skin map an' th' gold nugget, we'd better sleep on it afore we decide anything, 'specially seein' that it's gittin' late, an' all on us, I reckon, are plumb tired; an' tharfore, I move that this here meetin' be adjourned 'til tew-morrer mornin', an' that all on us be ordered tew git intew our bunks an' go tew sleep."
Ham's suggestion sounded so sensible, for even the excitement could no longer keep their tired bodies and brains from calling out for rest and sleep, that it was adopted at once, with only a few feeble protests; and, in fifteen minutes from the time it was made the lights were out and all were in their bunks.
"Say, dad," queried Thure a bit mischievously, as he and Bud crawled under the blankets of one of the bunks, "do we have to start back for home at sun-up?"
"No, shut up and go to sleep," growled back Mr. Conroyal.
The next morning everybody at the Headquarters of the Never-Give-Up California Mining Company was up an hour before the sun flashed its golden light over the tops of the eastern mountains and down on the log cabins and tents of Hangtown. All the workers in the mining-camps went to bed early, tired out with their hard day's work with pick and shovel, slept soundly, and arose early the next morning to begin another day of toil. Only the drones—the gamblers, the saloon-keepers, and their foolish patrons—burned the midnight oil, or, rather in this case, the midnight candle, for there was little oil to burn in these camps. Hence it was that when Thure and Bud hurried out of the house to wash their hands and faces in a near-by spring, they saw that they were far from being the only early risers, that the smoke was rising from the chimneys of nearly every log cabin in sight and that in front of nearly every tent glowed a camp-fire, around which the cooks already could be seen preparing breakfast.
"Well, this is great!" declared Bud, as he dashed the cool, refreshing water over his face. "I feel like a new man already. There must be something in this mountain air that gets into the blood and puts new life into a fellow. Say, but isn't this a beautiful sight, like—like a picture painted by a great artist!" and his eyes swept over the surrounding scene, now just becoming visible through the light of the early dawn.
"You are right, it is a beautiful scene," and Thure stood up and allowed his eyes to drink in, with all the enthusiasm of youth, the beauties of the scene; "but, I reckon, there is no artist that can paint a picture the equal of that," and he pointed to the distant tops of the eastern mountains. "It takes the brush of God to paint that kind of pictures!"
And Thure was right. No artist's skill could transfer to canvas the full glories of such a scene as now delighted the eyes of Thure and Bud.
The first rays of the morning's sun flamed upon the snow-covered tops of the mountains towering high above their heads to the eastward, while the mountainsides and valleys were still dark with the shadows of night; and everywhere the flaming light of morning struck the crystal-white of the snow on mountain top and pinnacle, that peak was crowned with a glorious halo that glowed, first with grayish violet lights, swiftly changing to crimson and rose, and from rose to gold, until, suddenly, the whole peak blazed forth in the glorious light of the full-risen sun. A vision for an artist to rhapsodize over; but for a God to paint!
"Bre'kfust! First an' last call tew bre'kfust!" yelled Ham from the open door of the house, just as the sun burst over the tops of the mountains.
"I feel as if I had just been to church," Thure said reverently, as the two boys started back to the house.
"So do I," agreed Bud. "Only no church or priest ever seem to bring God as close to a fellow as such a scene as that does. I don't see how anybody can live in the mountains and not believe in God."
As soon as breakfast was eaten, Mr. Conroyal arose.
"Now," he said, "that we have all had a night in which to think over the tale of the dead miner we had better get together and decide on what we had best do; and, as Dill suggested last night, we will first talk it over in an informal way. Now, what do you think about the truth of the miner's yarn? That, of course, is the first thing to settle; for there is no need of bothering with the matter at all, unless we feel quite sure that the miner really found a cave something like the one he described to Thure and Bud."
"Well, considering all things," and Frank Holt took the pipe he had lit and was puffing on out of his mouth and laid it down on the table, "and more especially considering the fact, that, when I saw him in Coleman's, he appeared to have just got in from a long prospecting spell in the mountains and to have plenty of gold along with him, and gold of a different kind than is found anywhere around here, I feel quite certain that Stackpole's yarn about finding that Cave of Gold comes pretty nigh to being true, nigh enough at least to be worth investigating."
"Them's my sentiments right down tew a T," declared Ham emphatically. "Whar thar's ben so much smoke, thar's sart'in tew be some fire. I'm in favor of makin' a hunt for th' Cave of Gold; but, afore doin' it, I'd like tew know how that thar wing dam project over in Holt's Gulch is promisin' tew pan out. If 'twon't take tew long, I'd like tew see that job finished afore we have a try for th' Cave of Gold. I reckon we've all put tew many backaches an' armaches intew that dam tew want tew see 'em wasted; an' thar might be a wagon load of gold thar, an', if thar is, we want tew be th' ones tew git it, after all our work."
"Right, Ham's right," asserted Mr. Randolph. "Now, supposing we all go down and have a look at that dam, and try to figure out just about how much longer it will take to finish it, before we decide anything definitely about the hunt for the Cave of Gold. I feel almost sure that we are going to strike it rich there, and I'd hate like sin to see any one else reap where we've sown so many backaches, as Ham says."
"I think Rad has it about right," declared Mr. Conroyal, "and, if there are no objections, we'll all go down to Holt's Gulch and have a look at the wing dam. I fancy it wouldn't please none of us much, after working as hard as we have, to see somebody else step into our boots there and reap a fortune, as like as not they'd do, if we deserted the dam now. I reckon it won't take more than a week to finish the dam; and then a few hours will show whether or not we've struck pay-dirt."
There were no objections made to this proposition, although Rex and Dill and Thure and Bud grumbled a little over the prospect of having the hunt for the Cave of Gold delayed for a week; and, accordingly, all started for Holt's Gulch, so named in honor of its discoverer, Rex Holt.
The gulch was about two miles from Hangtown and was reached by passing up a deep and steep ravine, that split the side of the hill a little above Hangtown, for about a mile, and then up and over the side of the ravine and down into a narrow little valley, into which a little stream of water tumbled through a rent in the walls of rock that nearly enclosed the valley. This rent in the rocks was the entrance to Holt's Gulch; and the dam was being constructed something like half a mile farther up, where the gulch crooked about, like a bent elbow, and widened out a little.
Many of the miners were already at work when our little company passed up the ravine on their way to Holt's Gulch, presenting scenes of the greatest interest and novelty to the unaccustomed eyes of Thure and Bud, as they dug for the precious metal, sometimes up to their knees in mud and water, sometimes so far away from the water that all the pay-dirt had to be carried on their backs to the creek and there panned, but always cheerful and hopeful that they "sure would strike it big soon."
"Now, what might those fellows be doing there? They look as if they might be winnowing wheat; but, of course, that can't be what they are doing," and Thure turned a puzzled face to Ham, as he pointed to where a small company of Mexicans, lank and skinny and black as Arabs of the desert, were gathering the loose dry dirt in large wooden bowls, tossing it up in the air, where the wind could blow away the lighter particles, and dexterously catching it again in their bowls, as it came down, or allowing it to fall on blankets or hides spread on the ground at their feet, in a manner very similar to the ancient method of separating the grain from the chaff.
"Them are a breed of Mexies called Sonorans," answered Ham; "an' they are a-throwin' that dirt up in th' air an' a-catchin' it ag'in tew git th' gold out of it. You see th' wind keeps a-blowin' th' lighter dirt out an' a-leavin' th' gold, 'cause it's heavier, until thar's nuthin' left but th' dirt what's tew heavy for th' wind tew blow away an' th' gold-dust, which is cleaned by blowing th' heavy dirt out of th' bowl with th' breath. That way of gittin' gold is called dry-washin'; an' is tew slow an' dirty for Americans or anybody else that's got much gump tew 'em; but them tarnal Mexies seem tew thrive on it. I reckon th' good Lord made 'em nearly black, jest so they could live an' work in dirt, without th' dirt showin' through much. That sort of thing would kill a white man in a week," and Ham looked his disgust.
"Say, but this gold-digging is no fun, no matter how you do it, is it?" and Thure's eyes swept up and down the ravine, where hundreds of men were toiling like ditch-diggers.
"Fun! Gold-diggin' fun!" and Ham grinned. "Th' feller what comes tew th' diggin's a-thinkin' that th' gold is a-goin' tew jump up right out of th' ground, 'cause it's so glad tew see him, is a-goin' tew git fooled 'bout as bad as Dutch Ike did, when he took a skunk for a new kind of an American house cat an' tried tew pick it up in his arms. Fun! No; gold-diggin' is jest grit an' j'int grease mixed tewgether an' kept a-goin' with beans an' salt pork an' flapjacks. But, we're gettin' ahind a-watchin' them dirty Sonorans. Come on," and the huge strides of Ham made Thure and Bud both trot to keep up with him, as he hurried after the others, to whom the dry-washing Mexicans were too common a sight to be worthy a moment's pause for the purpose of watching.
"Now, dad," and Thure turned inquiringly to his father, when, at length, all stood together in Holt's Gulch on the mound of dirt that had been already thrown up in building the wing dam, "I don't just see how this dam is going to help you find the gold."
"Well, my son," and Mr. Conroyal smiled, "it is not at all surprising to find that you do not know all about mining, seeing that you have been in the diggings only over night; but I'll give you the theory of the dam. This little stream of water, as you can see from where we stand, makes rather a sharp turn a few rods down, against an almost perpendicular wall of rock, forming a curve in the stream that can be likened to the crook in a bent arm, and leaving quite a little open space of ground almost on a level with the water in the bend of the arm. Now we've discovered that there is a deep hole right at the elbow joint, partly filled with gravel and big enough to hold a good many tons of gold, but too deep to get at through the water; and we've figured it out something like this. The gold found in all the diggings along the beds of rivers has been washed out of the rocks by the water and carried down by the current, until stopped by its own weight or some obstruction; and we calculate that most of the gold carried down by this stream would sink down into this hole and stay there, because, gold being so heavy, it would sure fall down into the hole, and, once there, the water would not be strong enough to lift it out again. Now, that is the reason why we think there might be gold and lots of it in that there hole," and he pointed to the elbow made by the curve in the stream.
"But, of course, not being fish, we cannot get down into the hole to see whether or not there is gold in it, as long as the water runs over it; and so we are making this wing dam up here above the elbow, to turn the stream into a new channel and send it flowing kitti-corner-wise across the opening between the two arms of the elbow and back into its own channel below the elbow, which, of course, would leave the elbow dry and give us a chance to clean out the hole and get all the gold there is in it."
"Oh, I see now!" exclaimed Thure, his eyes beginning to shine with excitement. "And you call it a wing dam, because you have to make a sort of a wing to the main dam, extending for quite a ways out on the dry land, in order to give the water a sufficient turn to keep it from flowing back into the old channel until you are ready to have it."
"Exactly," and Mr. Conroyal smiled. "And, if the good Lord will only keep it from raining until we get the dam finished, all of us might make our fortunes right here; and, again, we might not find a cent's worth of gold. It's all a speculation," and he shrugged his big shoulders.
"But—but what difference could a little rain make? You are not afraid of getting wet, are you?" and Thure smiled at the thought of these hardy men standing in dread of a little rain.
"No, son, we are not afraid of getting wet," and Mr. Conroyal smiled grimly. "But a big rain up there in the mountains where this stream comes from, would mean that in less than no time a flood of water would come a-tearing down this narrow gulch that would sweep our dam off its feet quicker than you could wink an eye—and us along with it, if we didn't get out of here about as lively as the Lord would let us. Howsomever we are not counting much on a rain, seeing that the dry season has got a fairly good start; but it might come," and his eyes turned a little anxiously toward the snow-covered mountains to the northeast, whence came the little stream of water running through Holt's Gulch. "But, come, we must get busy. Now, the first thing for us to do is to figure out about how much longer it will take us to finish the dam. I calculate that we have the dam about two-thirds done; and, since we have now been at work twelve days, I think we can count on finishing it in another six days."
"That's 'bout my idee, Con," agreed Ham. "Another six days otter see th' finish of th' job; an' then—maybe it will be gold an' maybe it will be jest a lot of durned hard work for nothin'; but it shore looks good; an' I'm in favor of seein' this dam through afore tacklin' th' Cave of Gold propersition."
For an hour or more our friends measured and figured and considered; and then, all coming to the conclusion that Mr. Conroyal's estimate of the time required to complete the dam was about right, the Never-Give-Up California Mining Company went into executive session, and, after again considering the marvelous tale of the dead miner and again examining the gold nugget and the skin map and again carefully weighing their chances of finding gold in the hollow of the stream's elbow after the turning of the water aside by the dam, the Company finally decided that the dam proposition looked too good to throw up, even for such an alluring project as the hunt for the wonderful Cave of Gold, especially since the Cave of Gold could not run away and would still be there waiting to be found after the dam proposition had been thoroughly tried out. Accordingly it was voted to first complete the dam and see if there was any gold in the old bed of the stream; and then, if it was still the wish of the Company, they would start on a hunt for the miner's Cave of Gold.
"That means for everybudy tew git busy tew once with pick or shovel," and Ham jumped to his feet and seized a pick the moment the result of the final vote was announced. "We want tew git this here dam built jest as soon as we can, an' find out what's in that thar hole; an' then, I reckon, we'll all want tew have a try for that thar gold cave, unless we gits enough gold out of th' hole tew plumb fill us all up with gold," and Ham grinned joyously, as he struck the sharp point of his pick down deep into the hard dirt.
There was always the prospect of a big find in the near future to keep up the spirits of the gold-digger. What did his condition to-day matter to him, when to-morrow he might fill his pockets full of gold! When all he had to do was to shoulder his pick and shovel, pick up his gold-pan, and go out almost anywhere and dig enough gold out of the ground at least to live on! When every morning was cheered by the possibility of striking it rich before night, and the discouragements of every night were lightened by the thought that to-morrow might be his lucky day! The star of hope always brightened his darkest skies; and so long as he kept his health, he usually kept his courage and good-nature. Consequently the reader need not wonder at the joyous grin on Ham's face, when he began tearing up the earth with his pick; for every blow might be bringing him a step nearer to a fortune!
The building of a dam under any circumstances is hard and dirty work; but, when the only tools are picks and shovels, when all the dirt that cannot be thrown into place with the shovel, must be lugged there on the backs of the laborers themselves, as was the case with our friends, then, indeed, does the building of a dam become about as fatiguing work as a human being can undertake to do, as Thure and Bud both discovered long before the night of their first day's work in the goldmines of California came to bring rest to their aching backs and arms and legs. But that day saw the completion of the wing part of the dam and the new channel so far as it was thought necessary to dig one and now all that remained to be done was to extend the dam across the stream itself; and this progress put all, even the two boys notwithstanding their weariness, into splendid spirits.
"I reckon it won't take us th' hull six days tew finish th' job," commented Ham, as he threw down his pick and wiped his perspiring face with a huge red handkerchief at the close of the day's work. "We didn't calculate that you tew yunks was such hosses tew work," and he grinned into the faces of Thure and Bud; and the two tired boys grinned bravely back. They were not going to let anybody know just how very, very tired they really were.
That night, when the returning laborers came within sight of their log house, they were greatly surprised to see the smoke pouring hospitably out of its chimney and a light glowing a bright welcome through its windows.
"Now, who can it be!" exclaimed Ham, the moment his eyes caught sight of the smoke and the light, while all quickened their steps and their faces brightened; for company in that lonely log house was such a rarity as to be most gladly welcomed. "Won't expectin' nobudy, was you, Con?"
"No," answered Conroyal. "I can't imagine who it can be."
"Maybe it's th' minister an' his wife come tew make us a social-like call. Wal, he won't git no chicken dinner, if it is," and Ham grinned.
At the door of the house the mystery was solved by the sudden appearance in the doorway of the smiling face of Mrs. Dickson glowing with the heat of the fire over which she had been cooking and her own happiness, backed by the grinning countenance of her husband.
"Dick and I felt just as if we had to celebrate our good fortune someway, or bust," she explained, smiling and bowing to the astonished men; "and, of course, we didn't want to celebrate it all alone, so we just moved in here for the celebration, your house being larger than ours. Now, get washed up as quick as you can and come right in. Supper is almost ready; and Dick has bought out nearly all the stores in Hangtown. Thought you men folks might enjoy a taste of woman's cooking again," and her sweet laugh rang out joyously.
"Got everything good to eat they had in Hangtown, boys," and Dickson thrust his head out over one of his wife's shoulders; "and Mollie's cooked a dinner that just fairly makes a fellow's insides jump to get a whiff of. Whoop! I've taken a good Ten Thousand Dollars' worth of gold out of that hole by the side of the big rock already! And there is more left there, boys! There is more left there!" and the happy man caught his wife around the waist and began waltzing with her around the table.
"Wal, I'll be durned!" was the way Ham expressed his feelings at this unexpected but most welcomed invasion of their home; and, judging from the looks on the faces of the others, that was about the way all felt.
Our friends promptly hurried away to the spring to "wash up," as the Little Woman had commanded; and soon were back again, with, probably, just a little cleaner faces and hands than they had had before in weeks.
"Now, just sit right down to the table," Mrs. Dickson urged, the moment they came filing in. "Everything is ready for you to begin eating right away; and nobody is to wait on ceremony. I know you must be about as hungry as bears. Dick and I have already eaten until we are both about ready to bust, the things looked and smelled so good we couldn't wait no how, so we've got nothing else to do but just to wait on you big hungry men—There, sit right down there, Ham, in front of that gold-pan full—but it is a surprise; and I won't tell you what is in that pan yet," and she pushed the grinning Ham down on the block of wood that did service in lieu of a dining chair in front of a steaming covered gold-pan.
One near whiff of the contents of this pan and Ham jumped to his feet.
"Whoop, boys!" he yelled. "It's chicken! It's chicken pie! Whoop! Hurrah for th' Leetle Woman!" and, whirling suddenly around, he threw one big arm around Mrs. Dickson, drew her quickly to him, and gave her a smack on one of her rosy cheeks that sounded like the report of a pistol.
"And the only chickens in Hangtown are in that pie," declared Dickson proudly. "When we saw those birds Mollie and I just couldn't keep our hands off them. They seemed to be just a-begging us to buy them and make them into a chicken pie. Now, fall to, boys; and, with every mouthful that you eat, think of our good luck. It means a lot to us, boys, a whole lot to the Little Woman and me. We are going back to our dear old New York home on the beautiful banks of the Hudson—Hi, there, Ham! Just start the chicken pie a-going round. You are not the only mouth at the table," and Dickson, doubtless feeling that sentiment was beginning to get a little the best of him, rushed excitedly about the table, as he helped to pass the good things Mrs. Dickson had cooked from one to another.
That was a dinner to remember as long as one lived. The circumstances of its giving were so unusual and so generous, its surroundings were so unique, and its jolliness was so whole-hearted and spontaneous, that ever afterwards it was one of the bright spots in the memories of all who were present.
When the eating was ended the men went outside and built a huge fire in front of the house; and then sat down around it and smoked their pipes and told stories and compared mining notes and discussed the ever-present questions of where the gold came from and how it got there, all of which would make interesting reading, but which, because of other events that are crowding forward, must be passed over thus briefly.
For a couple of hours the talk around the camp-fire continued; Mrs. Dickson had joined the circle, and then Mr. and Mrs. Dickson both rose.
"It's getting late and we must be going," declared Mrs. Dickson.
"Not yit! Not yit! Not until you've sung for us!" cried Ham, jumping to his feet. "We can't let her go without a song, can we, boys?"
The reply was an unanimous demand for the song; and Mrs. Dickson, smiling and bowing and blushing, like a happy schoolgirl, and declaring that she was afraid she had eaten too much to sing, straightened up her plump little body, threw back her head, and was about to begin to sing in the dark shadows where she stood, when Ham caught her by both her shoulders and gently pushed her out into the bright light of the camp-fire.
"Th' song wouldn't sound nigh as good, if we couldn't see th' singer plain," he declared, his face seemingly one broad grin. "Thar, that's 'bout right," and he swung her around so that the brightest light shone full on her face. "Now give us good old 'Ben Bolt,' Somehow that song kinder seems tew sweeten me all up inside," and Ham sat down almost directly in front of Mrs. Dickson.
Mrs. Dickson had a sweet, clear, bird-like voice, and what she lacked in training she more than made up in the feeling she put into the words she sang; and her singing always touched the hearts of these lonely miners deeply. But to-night, as she stood there, with the ruddy light of the camp-fire shining on her face and dimly illuminating the surrounding shadows of the lonely night and the towering mountains and the tall pine trees, and sang the beautiful words and melody of "Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt," she struck a deeper chord still, and all listened like men entranced until the last note died away in the silence of the encircling night.
"I never knowed I liked music so well, 'til I heer'd th' Leetle Woman sing," declared Ham the moment the sound of Mrs. Dickson's voice ceased. "Her singin' seems tew come a-knockin' right at th' door of a feller's heart. Now, dew sing us another one," and he turned pleadingly to Mrs. Dickson.
"Yes, I will sing you just one more song; and then we must be going. It must be nearly ten o'clock; and those two tired boys have been nodding their heads for the last half-hour."
"Me!" "We!" and Thure and Bud both sat up very straight. "Oh, we were just nodding our heads to keep time to your music. Please do sing again."
For answer Mrs. Dickson lifted her face to the sparkling skies; and then, while the tears gathered in her own eyes and her sweet voice trembled a little, she sang that song dear to the hearts of all wanderers no matter where they roam, "Home, Sweet Home."
"Now, good night, everybody. Come, Dick," and, turning quickly the moment she stopped singing, Mrs. Dickson caught hold of her husband's arm and hurried away before the spell of the song and the singer was broken.
A half an hour later the lights in both the houses were out and their inmates sound asleep.