Map, showing the location of the Cave of Gold in the Golden Elbow of Crooked Arm Gulch, which opens into Lot's Canyon near the white pillar of rock and the big tree, made by John Stackpole, the discoverer of the Cave of Gold.—1849.
Map, showing the location of the Cave of Gold in the Golden Elbow of Crooked Arm Gulch, which opens into Lot's Canyon near the white pillar of rock and the big tree, made by John Stackpole, the discoverer of the Cave of Gold.—1849.
In the lower left-hand corner of the map was a rudely drawn tree, with three huge limbs, and, from near the end of the upper and third limb, an arrow pointed slantingly downward, away from the trunk of the tree. In the lower right-hand corner was a hand holding a flaming torch. Between the tree and the torch was a cross, marked with the four main points of the compass. In the lower left-hand corner of the map itself was a small circle, marked "Hangtown"; and from there a crooked line trailed in a northeasterly direction to the upper right-hand quarter of the skin, where a map of Lot's Canyon and Crooked Arm Gulch was drawn with considerable detail.
For a couple of minutes the two boys studied this map in silence, while the conviction that the Cave of Gold was no deathbed hallucination, but a wonderful reality, grew upon them; or else, how came the skin map, which evidently had been made many days ago?
"Hangtown!" and Thure pointed excitedly to the name on the map. "That's the name of the mining camp where dad was when he wrote last. And here," and his finger followed up the trail marked on the map, "is Lot's Canyon! and the Big Tree! and Crooked Arm Gulch! and the Golden Elbow! and—and this black spot, marked 'cave,' right at the point of the Golden Elbow, must be the Cave of Gold! Great Moses, but I believe the miner did actually find that Cave of Gold, just as he said he did!" and Thure's eyes and face glowed with excitement.
"So do I," Bud agreed emphatically. "The skin map, the gold nugget—why, even his murder! all go to prove the truth of his tale. The robbers killed him to get this map. They could have got the gold without killing and got away all right; but they knew of the Cave of Gold and the map—the miner said he told them—and, expecting to get the map along with the gold, they killed him to get him out of the way, so that they could have all the gold in the cave to themselves. Say, but let's hurry home and tell our mothers. They can't refuse to let us go to the mines now! And we must start just as soon as possible. Come," and, for the moment, in his excitement, forgetting the dead body of the miner, he started to mount his horse.
"But, we can't leave him there!" and Thure pointed to the body. "Just help me to get him up on the horse in front of me and then we'll get home as soon as possible," and, picking up the little buckskin bag, he slipped the nugget and the map back into it, thrust it into his pocket, and soon, with the help of Bud, was on his horse, with the body of the dead miner in front of him.
Bud now quickly threw the grizzly bearskin back on his horse, jumped into his saddle, and the homeward journey was resumed.
When Thure, bearing in his arms the dead body of a man, and Bud, with the huge skin of a grizzly bear hanging across the back of his horse behind the saddle, rode into the open court in front of the Conroyal rancho, there was great excitement; and, even before they could dismount, they were surrounded by a crowd of gesticulating, question-shouting women and children and old decrepit men, all wild with curiosity to know what had happened. In the midst of all this excitement, the door of the house was flung open and two young ladies catapulted themselves through the crowd to where Thure and Bud sat on their horses.
"Mercy! What has happened?" and Iola Conroyal, her horrified eyes fixed on the face of the dead miner, came to a sudden halt by the side of Thure, with Ruth Randolph, round-eyed and white-faced, clinging to one of her arms. "Is—is he dead?"
"Yes, he is dead," Thure answered gravely. "Murdered for his gold." Then, seeing how white the faces of the two girls had suddenly grown, he added quickly: "You girls hurry right back into the house and tell your mothers that we found a miner, who had been robbed and stabbed, and started to bring him home with us, but that he died before we got here; and ask them to have some blankets laid on the floor of the sala for the body to lie on and a sheet to cover it. Now, hurry. We'll tell you how it all happened later," and not until the two girls were back in the house did Thure make a move to get rid of his ghastly burden. Then, reverently the body of the dead miner was lowered from the horse, and borne into the large hall-like room of the house known as the sala, and laid down on the blankets there prepared for it, and covered over with a sheet.
In the meantime Bud had thrown the great hide of the grizzly to the ground with the information that it was the skin ofEl Ferozhimself.
"How did you kill him?" "Who shot him?" and, with shouts of wonder and delight, all the men and the boys, who had not gone into the sala with the body of the dead miner, crowded around the skin of the fallen monarch.
"Thure and I found the old villain just after he had killed a horse, and shot him," Bud answered hastily, anxious to get to his mother with the wonderful news of the Cave of Gold as quickly as possible. "Here, Angelo!" and he turned to a young Mexican boy standing near, "Take my horse and see that he is properly cared for. And you, Juan, take the hide ofEl Ferozand let us see how fine a robe you can make out of it."
"Si, si, señor," answered the old Mexican exultingly. "He, the ugly brute, kill my wife's brother, Pedro, whom I, like my own brother, loved, and 'twill give my soul peace one fine robe to make out of his big skin. A great glory, the killing ofEl Feroz, señor," and his old eyes kindled. "Your fame like a swift horse will travel."
"Shucks! Any hunter could have got him the same as we did," and Bud hurried into the house, all care for the glory of killingEl Ferozhaving been driven out of his head by the dying miner's remarkable revelations.
At the door of the house Bud was met by his mother and Mrs. Conroyal, with Ruth and Iola close behind them. The bringing of the dead body of the murdered miner into the house had greatly excited both women.
"My son," Mrs. Randolph cried the moment she caught sight of Bud, "what means this tale of murder and robbery and the bringing of the dead body of a strange man into the house?"
"Oh, mother, mother," and Bud excitedly caught hold of his mother's hand, "the most wonderful, the most marvelous thing has happened!"
"What?" and the astonished and horrified woman caught hold of both of his shoulders and shook him. "Have you gone clean crazy, Bud Randolph, to speak of murder and robbery like that?"
"I—I," stammered Bud, "I forgot the dead miner. We were too late to save him; but he lived long enough to tell us—" He stopped abruptly and glanced swiftly around the room. The secret of the Cave of Gold must not be proclaimed from the housetops! There was no one in the room with himself, but the two women and the two girls. "Mother, Mrs. Conroyal," he continued, lowering his voice, "the old miner before he died told Thure and me of a wonderful Cave of Gold that he had discovered in a gulch somewhere in the mountains; and he made Thure and me his heirs, and gave us a map, showing the way to the cave, and a huge gold nugget, which the robbers did not get, that he said he had found in the cave, and he—But here is Thure! He has the—"
"Hush! Not so loud!" and Thure, who at that moment stepped into the room from the sala, where the body of the dead miner lay, lifted a warning hand. "There are many ears in there," and he pointed to the door he had just closed behind him, "that must not hear what we have to tell. Come, let us go to your room, mother, where there won't be any danger of what we have to tell you being overheard," and he started for Mrs. Conroyal's private room, followed by Bud and the two wondering women and the girls.
"I—I," and Thure stopped at the door of his mother's room and looked hesitatingly at Iola and Ruth, "I—I reckon it is too great a secret to tell you two girls just now. You had better wait—"
"No!"—"No!" broke in both girls indignantly, while Ruth, looking as if she would like to box Thure's ears, declared:
"We girls can keep a secret just as well as you boys can, and you know it; for, haven't we saved you from many a licking by not telling your dads what you had been up to? But if this is the way you are going to treat us, we'll fix you next time," and she shook her head threateningly.
"Besides," supplemented Iola triumphantly, "we know most of the secret already. It's about a Cave of Gold and a map and—"
"Oh, Christmas! You couldn't keep nothing from the girls!" and the face Thure turned to Bud showed his disgust.
"Well, I reckon the secret is just as safe with them as it is with us," protested Bud stoutly, flushing a little, "especially when they know how important it is to keep it secret. You will never tell a word of it to anybody, will you girls? It—it might mean murder, if you did."
"No, no," affirmed Iola emphatically. "We'll not breathe a word of it to a living human being. We'll die first. We'll not disappoint your trust in us, Bud," and she glanced a bit scornfully from Bud to her brother. "Will we, Ruth?"
"Never," and Ruth's red lips closed tightly over her pearly teeth. "Do you suppose we'd betray those we love?" and her eyes flashed indignantly.
"All right. See that you don't, then," and Thure's face cleared. To tell the truth he was just a little ashamed of the lack of confidence he had shown in his sister and Ruth. "Anyhow, you know so much now that you might as well be told the rest, so come on," and he opened the door and carefully closed and locked it, when all had entered the room.
It did not take many minutes for the two eager boys to tell the story of the day's remarkable experiences, from the killing of the great grizzly to the death of the old miner; for the narrative, under the lash of their active tongues, proceeded in running jumps, from the beginning to the end and was never allowed to lag an instant.
"And now," concluded Thure excitedly, when the last of the wonderful tale had been told, "Bud and I must both start for the mines just as soon as we can get ready; and get father and Rex and Dill and Uncle Frank and Hammer Jones to help us find this Cave of Gold; and when we have found it—"
"But," broke in Mrs. Conroyal, smiling at Thure's enthusiasm, although her own face was flushed and her eyes were sparkling with excitement, "where is this wonderful gold nugget and skin map, that you tell us the miner gave you in proof of his remarkable story? You seem to forget that you have not yet shown us your proof."
"Here, here it is!" and the excited boy thrust one hand into his pocket and triumphantly pulled out the small buckskin bag; and, swiftly turning the bag bottom side up, dumped its contents into his mother's lap; and the next moment, the two women and the two girls were as excitedly examining the big nugget and the rude skin map as ever they had been examined by the two boys.
"And the miner told you that the bottom of the cave was covered with gold nuggets like this?" queried Mrs. Randolph, her eyes shining, as she held up the nugget.
"Yes, yes," answered Bud. "Thousands of them, only smaller. Of course he picked up the biggest that he could see. We can go to the mines now, can't we, mother?"
"And this queer skin map tells you how to find this wonderful Cave of Gold?" and Mrs. Conroyal spread out the map on her lap and stared wonderingly at it. "I can't see how all this jumble of crooked lines and letters can tell you anything."
"Why, it's easy, mother," and Thure bent eagerly over the map. "You see you start from Hangtown and go in a northeasterly direction to Humbug Canyon and Three Tree Mountain and Goose Neck Lake and the Devil's Slide to Lot's Canyon; and then up Lot's Canyon until you come to Crooked Arm Gulch, and then up Crooked Arm Gulch until you come to the Golden Elbow; and the cave, you see, is right in the point of the elbow," and Thure's finger rested excitedly on the black spot on the map marked "cave." "The cave is about five days from Hangtown, the miner said. We can go to the mines now, can't we, mother?"
"Hangtown! What a horrid name!" and Mrs. Conroyal shuddered. "But," and she started to her feet excitedly, "wasn't your father's last letter sent from Hangtown? I am sure it was," and she hurried to her writing desk, picked up a letter and glanced eagerly at its heading. "See! It was! Here is the name," and she pointed triumphantly to the letter.
"You see, it won't be difficult to find the Cave of Gold from the map, mother, not with dad's help. And, mother, we must start for the mines just as soon as we can get ready to go. You surely will let us go now!" and Thure caught hold of his mother's hand. "Say, yes, mother, now; because Bud and I want to start to-morrow morning, and there is much to be done before we go."
"My boy," and Mrs. Conroyal's face sobered, "you are all the man that the mines have left me. Husband, son, servants, all have gone to the mines, until now you and Bud are the only able-bodied men left on the rancho—and now the mines are calling you!"
"But, mother, think of what the finding of such a mine means to us all! And father and Mr. Randolph, if they knew about the Cave of Gold and the skin map, I am sure would want us to come; and Old Juan and Manuel and the boys can take care of the rancho; and, you know, if we find the Cave of Gold and get the gold, then all of us, father and the rest, will be back soon; and we will be rich; and dad can build you the new house that you want and furnish it the way that you want it furnished; and Bud and I can go East and get the education that we need to fit us to do a man's work in the great new State of California that is bound to be made out of this country, now that it has become a part of the United States. It is yes, isn't it, mother? And we can start, can't we, to-morrow morning?" and Thure's arm went round his mother and he drew her appealingly to him.
For a minute or two Mrs. Conroyal did not answer. She was battling with her mother-love. She knew what this quest of the Cave of Gold might mean—hardships, dangers, even death for those she loved. But she was of pioneer stock, had often seen her dearest go forth to face the dangers of the unknown wilderness; and, at last, with something of Spartan-like fortitude, she turned to Thure.
"Yes, my son, you may go," she said. "You may go to your father and tell him all; and he will decide about the search for the Cave of Gold."
"Hurrah! We can go! Mother says I can go!" and Thure swung his free hand around his head.
"And mother says I can go! Hurrah for the gold-mines!" and Bud clapped his sister on the back, by way of letting off some of the surplus steam of his enthusiasm. "It will be great! And I'll bring you back a necklace of gold nuggets, sister mine. Now, we must be getting ready."
"But, first we all have a solemn duty to perform," Mrs. Conroyal said gravely. "We must give the dead miner decent burial, as we would wish our own dear ones buried, should they die amongst strangers. See that the grave is dug, my son; and notify all that the funeral will be held in the house-sala at the going down of the sun. Come, we will make ready the house for the funeral," and, followed by Mrs. Randolph and the two girls, she hurried from the room.
A half an hour later, all who were left on the rancho gathered in the sala to pay the last respects of the living, who soon must die, to the dead, who but a short time before lived. There was no minister, no priest to be had. Mrs. Conroyal read the church service for the dead over the body of the unfortunate miner; and then six of the oldest and strongest boys gently lifted the boards on which the corpse lay to their shoulders and, just as the rays of the setting sun redden the tops of the western mountains, bore the body slowly to its last resting place, beneath the outstretched arms of a sturdy oak, on the top of a little hillock, near the murmuring waters of a small stream that flowed close by the house.
That night was a busy night at the Conroyal rancho. Everything must be got ready for the going of Thure and Bud in the morning; and it was surprising how many things there were that needed doing. But, at length, long after midnight, everything was in readiness and the two boys entered their sleeping room for their last night's rest, for they knew not how long, in the dear old home-house.
"I can hardly realize that we are to start for the mines in the morning," Thure said, as he quickly undressed and jumped into bed. "All that has happened to-day seems more like a dream than the reality; and I am almost afraid that I will wake up in the morning and find that I have been only dreaming."
"Well," declared Bud, "if it's only dreaming, I'm going to get into bed and dream some more as quick as I can; so, not meaning to be impolite, shut up and good night," and he settled himself down comfortably in the bed and closed his eyes. And, in five minutes, in spite of the feverish excitements of the day, the two tired boys were sound asleep.
The next morning when the sun rose, in all the golden glory of dawning day in beautiful California, above the tops of the eastern mountains and shone down into the Valley of the Sacramento, its rays fell on an interesting scene in front of the Conroyal house, where nearly all the men, women and children of the place had gathered about two heavily laden pack-horses, four saddled horses, and two boys, and two girls. The two boys were Thure and Bud, ready to start for the mines, the two girls were Iola and Ruth, who were to ride with the boys for an hour or so on their way, the four saddled horses were their riding horses, and the two pack-horses bore the outfits of the young miners, as well as sundry tokens of love and affection sent to the dear ones at the mines. The boys stood at their horses' heads, ready to mount. The very moment of departure had come.
"Well, I reckon we must be going now. Good-by, mother," and Thure turned for a last embrace in those dear arms, and then swung himself up into his saddle.
"God bless you, and protect you, and bring you safe home, my son," and Mrs. Conroyal, trying in vain to keep back the tears from her eyes and the sobs from her voice, embraced and kissed Thure farewell and bravely saw him mount.
Bud tried very hard to control his feelings, but his voice choked a little and there were tears in his eyes, as he kissed his mother good-by and jumped into his saddle; and then, just to break the gloom that seemed to be gathering too thickly about the parting, he jerked off his hat, and, swinging it around his head, shouted: "Hurrah, for the gold-mines! Hurrah, we're off for the mines!"
And everybody shouted with him; and, in the midst of the shouting, the two boys, leading their pack-horses and with Iola and Ruth on their horses by their sides, rode out of the house-court and started across the valley toward the distant eastern mountains.
The search for the dead miner's Cave of Gold had begun.
Iola Conroyal and Ruth Randolph were two very lively and high-spirited girls, just old enough to see all the romance and little of the rough reality and danger of such a quest as their two brothers had begun. The wonderful tale of the dying miner, with its Cave of Gold, its rough-drawn map and its big gold nugget, had appealed very strongly to their vivid and romantic imaginations; and the starting of Thure and Bud in search of this marvelous cave had surrounded them, in their eyes, with something of the glamour that gilds the heroes of romance. They envied them their quest; they would have gone joyfully with them, if they could; and now, as they rode along by their sides in the cool morning air, they could think or talk of little else than this wonderful quest and of what would happen, if the boys should really and truly find that marvelous Cave of Gold.
"Will you—will you promise to give me the first gold nugget you pick up in this wonderful cave?" Ruth said, after they had been riding and talking for some little while, glancing up a bit shyly into Thure's face. "I will have a breastpin made out of it and always wear it in remembrance of that great event—and—and of you," she added in a lower voice, her face flushing a little.
"Sure I will! I—that is exactly what I had planned to do anyhow," Thure declared. "And I'll see that it is a big one, Ruth, the biggest that I can find. And the next nugget I pick up you shall have for a ring; and then I'll pick up a lot of little nuggets and make you a gold necklace out of them."
"That will be glorious," and Ruth's eyes shone. "And—and I shall prize them all very much. Oh, dear, I don't see why we girls were just born girls and not boys! I never wanted to do anything as much as I want to go with you and Bud, and help hunt for this Cave of Gold. I'd go anyway, if mother would let me."
"So would I," Iola declared, her dark eyes and cheeks glowing at the thought. "It is terrible to be just a girl, when there is anything like this to be done. We, at least Ruth and I, do not want to be put in a cage and fed, like canary birds. We want to do things, too; and we could do things, too, if folks would only let us."
"Hoity-toity!" laughed Thure. "I reckon God knew what He was about when He made you 'just girls'—just sisters, sweethearts, wives, mothers, the dearest words spoken in every language the world over; and, for one, I am powerful glad that He did make you 'just girls.'"
"So am I," Bud agreed, so emphatically that all laughed.
"But, it really does seem too bad that Iola and I have got to stay at home with our mothers, where nothing exciting ever happens," persisted Ruth, "while you two, just because you are boys, can go hunting caves of gold and have all sorts of wonderful adventures—not that I really and truly would like to be a boy," she added hastily and a little contradictorily. "Boys are so awkward and have such big feet and hands, and—and—"
"And are such good fellows to wait on girls," grinned Bud provokingly.
"Which shows girls' real superiority," smiled back Ruth.
"Well, if you are satisfied, what are you kicking for? You haven't heard Thure and me wishing that we were girls, have you?" queried Bud triumphantly.
"Well, I should say not, not when you are off on a hunt like this anyhow!" Ruth rejoined. "Oh, but I do hope you will find that Cave of Gold! And come back covered with gold nuggets and glory!"
By this time our young friends had reached the foot of the ridge, on whose top it had been agreed they were to say farewell to one another; and the thought of the nearness of the parting was suddenly pressed home to each heart, and they rode to the top of the ridge without speaking a word. Here they pulled up their horses; and, for a moment, their eyes looked wistfully into one another's faces, while they sat silent in their saddles.
"Oh, come, let's have the agony over!" and Bud tried to make his voice sound cheery and unconcerned. "Good-by, Ruth," and, urging his horse up close to the side of his sister's horse, he leaned over, threw his arms around her neck and kissed her. Then he turned and quickly served Iola in the same way; and, striking spurs into his horse, started off, his pack-horse tugging at the rope behind him.
Thure hesitated a moment; and then, following Bud's example, quickly kissed Iola and Ruth good-by, and started after Bud.
"Don't forget that you have promised me the first gold nugget that you pick up in the cave!" called Ruth.
"Nor the gold necklace!" warned Iola.
Thure and Bud waved their hands and shouted in reply; but rode steadily on.
The two girls sat on their horses and watched them, until, with final shouts and the waving of their hats, they passed over the top of a distant ridge and vanished from sight. Then Iola and Ruth turned their horses homeward and rode silently down the other side of the ridge. They did not care to talk, even about the wonderful Cave of Gold, just then.
They had ridden something like a couple of miles on their way homeward and their tongues were just beginning to wag, girl-like, again, when both were considerably startled by a loud hallo, coming from behind. They turned quickly and saw two horsemen, who had just ridden out from behind a small grove of trees, some twenty rods back and to the right, and who were now riding toward them.
"I wonder who they can be!" exclaimed Ruth. "I am sure that I never saw them before; but I suppose we had better wait and find out what they want. They might be lost. They look like strangers to this part of the country," and she pulled up her horse.
"Yes," agreed Iola, halting her horse by the side of Ruth. "They are probably foreigners on their way to the mines; and we had better wait to see if we can be of any help to them."
In the holster that hung from the pommel of the saddle of each girl there was a double-barreled pistol, loaded and ready for instant use; and it was not there for ornament. Both girls had been trained to use the rifle and the pistol; and never, since Iola's frightful experience with the Mexican desperado, Padilla, some three years before,[1]had either girl been permitted to ride, even a short distance from the house, without having one or both of these weapons with her. Consequently, trained and armed as they were, they saw nothing to fear in meeting the two strange horsemen, although they were alone in a little valley and out of sight and hearing of every other human being, so far as they knew.
The two horsemen came up on a slow gallop; and pulled up their horses a dozen feet from the girls.
"We asks your pardon, ladies," said the larger of the two men—a big red-headed man with a broken nose—as he awkwardly doffed his hat. "But, seein' you ridin' by, an' thinkin' you might be able tew give us sum information, we bein' strangers in this part of Californy, we made bold tew hallo tew you," and he paused, his bold eyes staring admiringly into the dark face of Iola.
"We will be very glad to help you, if we can," answered Iola, a bit shortly, for she did not like the looks of the big man with the broken nose. "What is it you would like to know?"
"Wal," answered the man, glancing toward his companion, "me an' my pardner was tew meet a man over yonder by that big rock that sticks itself out of th' ground, like a nose on a man's face," and he pointed to a huge rock a mile or more away that shot up out of the level of the valley, not unlike the nose on a man's face. "He was tew git thar 'bout noon yisterday; an' we haven't seen hide nor ha'r of him yit; an', gittin' powerful tired of waitin' an' thinkin' you ladies might have seen him, we stops you tew ask."
"An' bein' a leetle afeared he might have come tew harm," the other horseman, a small man with a pock-marked face, here broke in, "seein' that he was a comin' from th' diggin's an' was supposed tew have considerable gold-dust with him, we makes bold tew stop you ladies tew ask about him, jest as my pardner says, thinkin' you might have seen him."
"What—what did he look like?" Iola asked anxiously, the moment the man paused; for her thoughts had gone instantly to the dead man they had buried last night, when he had spoken of the man they were looking for as being on his way back from the diggings.
"Wal, he won't exactly what you ladies would call a beauty," answered the big man, grinning, "seein' that he'd let his whiskers an' ha'r grow long an' scraggly all over his face an' head; but you'd a-knowed him, if you'd a-seen him, by a peecoolyer scar over his left eye, shaped sumthin' like a hoss-shoe, with th' ends of th' shoe pointin' t'ord th' corners of th' eye."
"Why," and Iola's face whitened, "he must have been the man our brothers, Thure and Bud, brought home with them yesterday afternoon! He had a scar on his forehead like that. Didn't you notice it?" and she turned to Ruth.
"Yes," Ruth answered, "and he was from the mines."
"Wal, now, that's good news," declared the big man, glancing out of the corners of his eyes at his companion. "We was afeared sum harm had come tew him. An' so he's restin' safe an' easy at your home. Now, whar might that be, if I may be so bold as tew ask?"
"But, he'd been robbed—murdered!" exclaimed Iola. "And it was his dead body that had been brought to our house. We buried him last night."
"Robbed! Murdered!" almost yelled the big man. "Do you hear that, Spike?" and he turned excitedly to his companion. "Sumone got him for his gold, jest as he was afeared they would. An' you say 'twas your brothers who found him, an' took th' body home with them, an' gave it decent burial. Now I call that decent, don't you, Spike?" and he glanced sharply at his companion.
"White an' decent," agreed Spike. "But," and his small snake-like eyes shifted swiftly from face to face of the two girls, as he spoke, "did he—did he leave any message for his friends; or, was he dead when your brothers found him?"
"He lived only a little while," answered Iola. "He had been stabbed by one of the cowards, and he died before they could get him to the house. I don't think he left any message. I don't remember of hearing our brothers say anything about a message, do you?" and she turned to Ruth.
"No," replied Ruth. "He—he left no word for any friend. He only—" she stopped abruptly, and just in time; for, unthinkingly, she had been about to speak of the skin map and the Cave of Gold.
Both men started slightly at her words and abrupt stop and flashed swift glances into each other's eyes.
"Now, that's tew bad," declared the big man. "We sure thought he would leave a message for us, seein' that he knowed we was here a-waitin' for him. But, I reckon, we'd better ride on tew th' house with you ladies an' see them brothers of your'n personal. You see we wants tew make sart'in 'twas our friend that was robbed and murdered, besides he might have left sum word for Spike an' me, an' your brothers not have mentioned it, bein' naturally excited-like over th' robbery an' murder."
"But, you can't see them now!" exclaimed Iola, impulsively. "They left for the mines this very morning. Why, we parted from them not more than an hour ago."
Both men started violently at this news, and again the swift suspicious glances flashed from eyes to eyes, and an ugly threatening look came into their faces.
"Gone tew th' mines! An' started sudden, this very mornin'!" exclaimed Spike excitedly. "Did—Did th' old miner say an'thing 'bout whar he found his gold afore he died?" and his beady black eyes glowed angrily into the faces of the two girls. "We're his friends, an' have a right tew know, an' we want tew know, an' we're goin' tew know," and he urged his horse nearer to the girls.
Both girls were badly frightened by this sudden and unexpected change in the two men; for there was no mistaking the ugly and dangerous look on their faces; but neither girl lost her head.
"You will not come a step closer than you now are," and the white hand of Iola flashed to the pistol in her holster; and Spike, to his evident horror, suddenly found himself looking straight down into two little round holes that seemed to his startled eyes as big as the mouths of cannons.
"And you, too, stay right where you are," and Ruth's pistol suddenly turned the big man with a broken nose into a wildly staring equestrian statue. "We two girls are not going to take any chances with you two men; and—and now that we have given you all the information that we have for you, you can turn your horses around and ride back the way you came."
The faces of both girls had suddenly grown as white as milk; for, almost at the same moment, each had remembered that the dying miner had described his two murderers as a big red-headed man with a broken nose and a small man with a pock-marked face—and they were now looking straight into the faces of two such men. But the hands that held the pistols did not tremble; and there was no mistaking the look in the shining eyes back of the little round holes. They would shoot; and, if they shot, they would not miss; and it did not take the two men two seconds to discover these facts.
"Oh, come, this ain't no hold up game, is it, ladies?" and the big man tried to look as if he considered the whole affair a huge joke; but he was very careful not to make a threatening move; and he kept his eyes fixed on the two little round holes of Ruth's pistol, in a horrible staring way that Ruth never forgot.
"No," Ruth answered shortly. "It is not a hold up; and there is going to be no hold up in this case," she added significantly; "so just turn your horses around and gallop back the way you came; and be very careful not to let your hands go near your belts or to look back while doing it," she warned.
"Oh, say, now," began the small man. "This ain't hospital-like. We ain't meanin' you ladies no harm. We—"
"Drop the talk and turn your horses around and get," Iola commanded so imperatively, so threateningly that both men, in a sudden panic of fear—like nearly all rascals they were cowards and those two pistols in those two girlish hands might go off at any instant—whirled their horses around and galloped off, while a bullet from one of the barrels of Iola's pistol, whistling between their heads, added to their panic and speed.
"Do you," and Ruth turned her white face to Iola, the moment the two men were at a safe distance, "do you really think they were the two men who murdered the miner?"
"Yes," answered Iola, as she began reloading her pistol, with hands that trembled now so that she could hardly pour the powder into the barrel. "I am sure they were. Ugh! But what a dreadful fright they gave me! I felt certain they were going to murder us, when they started toward us."
"And—and do you suppose they were trying to find out about that skin map and the Cave of Gold?" and Ruth's face again began whitening.
"Yes, that is it!" and Iola started. "That was what made them so angry and ugly, when we told them that Thure and Bud had already started for the mines. They at once suspicioned that the boys had the map and that they had started out to find the Cave of Gold. Oh, Ruth," and a look of horror came into Iola's face, "do you suppose they will start on the trail of Thure and Bud and try to get the map from them? Why, they might murder them!"
"That is exactly what I am afraid they will do," declared Ruth, her own face reflecting the horror in Iola's face. "But you may be sure that two cowards like them will never get the best of our brothers, unless they do it in some sneaking underhanded way; and the boys have been warned to look out for them. It won't take Thure and Bud as long to discover who they are, as it did us. The instant they see that broken nose and pock-marked face, they will be on their guard. But I do wish we had said nothing about the boys starting for the mines. Anyhow that is about all the information they did get from us that will do them any good, thank goodness! And they will have a mighty hard time finding and following their trail, unless they are old hunters and trappers; and they did not look as if they were. Anyhow it can't be helped now; and the best thing that we can do is to get back home as quickly as we can."
"I don't think we had better say anything to our mothers about meeting the two men," Iola said, as with a final look in the direction of the two horsemen, who were still galloping up the valley, they turned their horses homeward. "It wouldn't do any good to tell them and they'd worry a lot."
"You're right. Mum's the word," agreed Ruth; and then both girls struck their horses sharply and started on a swift gallop for the Conroyal rancho, where we must leave them for the present and return to Thure and Bud.
At the date of the happenings here recorded, 1849, the greater part of California was still an unbroken wilderness, inhabited only by scattered tribes of Indians and the wild beasts. For some three hundred years the Spaniards and the Mexicans had occupied a few choice spots along the coast, with now and then an isolated ranchero in the great interior valleys of the Sacramento and the San Joaquin Rivers. Then, in 1846, had come the War with Mexico and the Conquest of California by the Americans, swiftly followed by the discovery of gold in 1848 and the great inflow of gold-seekers from all parts of the world of 1849 and later, who, of course, all rushed pell-mell to the gold regions, leaving the rest of California more thinly populated than ever. Indeed, in 1849, all California, except the gold regions, was practically deserted; and, since the gold regions were located in what had been, a few weeks before, a mountainous wilderness, nearly everybody in California was living in the wilderness, and, necessarily, living under primitive wilderness conditions—a wild, free, independent sort of a life that quickly brought to the surface the real character of each individual.
Such, then, was the California of 1849, the California of Thure and Bud; and such were the conditions of the life, the wild romantic life of the wilderness mining camps, toward which we left our young friends hastening, their unwilling pack-horses pulling and tugging on the ropes which were dragging them away from the home-pastures, when we rode a little way on the homeward journey with Iola and Ruth.
Now, to return to Thure and Bud.
The Conroyal rancho was situated in the Lower Sacramento Valley, some two-days' journey from Sutter's Fort, near which the City of Sacramento on the Sacramento River had sprung into a sudden and marvelous existence; and, as Sacramento City was then the final rendezvous of all those bound for the mines, some forty miles in the wilderness of mountains to the east, Thure and Bud, naturally, had headed straight for this town, intending, when there, to find someone going to Hangtown, with whom they might journey to this mining camp, where they hoped to find their fathers and their friends. Both boys were well acquainted with the trail to Sutter's Fort, having been there frequently with their fathers; and, since Sacramento City was only a couple of miles or so from Sutter's Fort, they would have no difficulty in finding their way thither. The trail, for the greater part of the distance, ran through beautiful valleys and over low-lying hills, where nature still reigned unfretted by man and where a human being was seldom seen, consequently Thure and Bud expected to have a lonely ride to Sacramento City.
For some little while after the departure of the two girls neither boy spoke. Somehow they did not feel like talking, not even about the wonderful Cave of Gold, nor the skin map, nor the death of the old miner. They were thinking of home and the dear ones from whom they had parted for they knew not how long; and, when boys are thinking deeply of such things, they do not like talking. But, gloom and sadness cannot long conquer the spirits of any normal boy; and, at the end of an hour's riding they were their own lively and talkative selves again.
"I wonder if we can make our old camping-ground to-night?" Thure questioned doubtfully, as they came to a halt, a little before noon, on the top of a steep ridge to give their horses a short rest. "If I remember right, this ridge is not nearly half-way to the place where dad and I always camped when we went to Sutter's Fort; and it must be nearly noon now," and he glanced upward at the sun, which was fast nearing the zenith. "Say, but these old pack-horses are as slow as oxen. I wonder if we can't do something to hurry them up?"
"We've got to make the old camping-ground tonight, if it takes us till midnight," Bud answered emphatically. "That is, we've got to, if we expect to get to Sacramento City to-morrow; and that's where I, for one, expect to be sometime to-morrow night. I reckon, we'll have to drive them pack-horses in front of us and use the whip a little."
"A bully idea," Thure agreed. "I wonder why we did not think of it before. Here, you old slowpoke, get up!" and, whirling his horse around, he suddenly rode up behind his pack-horse and gave that animal a quick blow with his whip.
The scheme worked splendidly; and the two boys were soon on their way again and moving at a considerably increased speed. But, notwithstanding their accelerated motion, it was not until some three hours after sunset that the two tired boys and the four tired horses reached the old camping-grounds, where there was an abundance of water for themselves and horses and fuel for the camp-fire.
"Well, I swun I am tired!" Thure exclaimed, as he threw himself down with a sigh of satisfaction on his blanket before the camp-fire, when, at last, the horses had been unsaddled and unbridled and unpacked and picketed where they could feed on the rich grass, and the two boys had eaten their rude meal of broiled venison—they had shot a young deer on their way—and homemade bread, washed down by a huge tin cup full of coffee of their own brewing.
"I reckon you are not the only tired boy in this camp to-night," and Bud spread out his blanket on the ground by the side of Thure's and stretched himself out on it. "Every bone and muscle in my body has been just a-teasing me for the last two hours to let up and give them a rest. Well, we got here anyhow; and I guess we can now make Sacramento City all right to-morrow night. Say," and he sat up on his blanket with a jerk at the thought that had suddenly come to him, "do you suppose those two villains, who robbed and killed the old miner, have found out that we have the skin map that they committed murder in vain to get? If they have, I reckon we'll have to be on the lookout for them good and sharp. Why, they might be on our trail even now!"
"You are right," and Thure sat up quickly. "But I can't see just how they could know that we have the map. They certainly didn't wait for introductions when we charged down upon them; and I don't believe they followed us home—they were too scart, the cowards! But, as Kit Carson says: 'The time to be cautious is before the Indians get your scalp—not afterwards.' I reckon that means that we've got to keep guard to-night; and I don't believe I ever felt more sleepy," and Thure sighed. "But, if Brokennose and Pockface should happen to be on our trail, they couldn't ask for anything better than to get us two here alone and asleep to-night. They sure would have the skin map in the morning, and, probably, our horses and supplies, and, possibly, our lives. Say, but I just would like to meet them two cowards when I am awake!" and Thure's eyes glinted wrathfully.
"Well, I should not be surprised if we had that pleasure before long," and Bud's face hardened. "If the old miner told them of the Cave of Gold and the skin map, and he said he did, they sure will be on the lookout for the party with the map; and it wouldn't take much inquiring for them to find out that it was us that brought the dead miner home; and then, I reckon, it won't take them two minutes to guess what started us so sudden-like for the mines. I sure hope they won't find us until we get to our dads and Rex and Dill and Hammer Jones. I'd feel safe enough then. You see, we are guarding not only our lives, but also the Cave of Gold; and the finding of that cave means a lot to all of us."
"It sure does," Thure agreed. "Luck has been against both of our dads lately; and, well, we've just got to find that Cave of Gold; and we are going to find it, in spite of all the broken noses and pockmarked faces in the world. But, it won't do to sit here talking all night. We must get all the sleep we can. Who will stand guard first?"
"I will," Bud answered, picking up his rifle and rising; "so get into your blanket and asleep as quick as you can. It must be almost midnight now."
"All right," and Thure began rolling himself up in his blanket. "Wake me in about two hours, and I'll stand guard the rest of the night. We want to be on our way as soon as it is light enough to see. Good night," and in five minutes Thure was as dead to his surroundings as the log near which he lay.
Bud picked up his blanket and moved off into the dark shadows of the low-hanging branches of an evergreen oak and out of the light of the camp-fire, where he could watch, seeing but unseen.
The night had grown dark and cool—all California nights are chilly; and Bud wrapped his blanket around him and, leaning up against the trunk of the tree, looked out into the darkness surrounding the lone camp-fire. In the distance a coyote was making the night hideous with his demoniacal howlings. From a near tree came the lonesome hoot of an owl. All else was still, save from all around came the mysterious sounds of the wilderness at night, suggestive of the low whisperings and talking of uneasy spirits.
But all this was commonplace to Bud. He had often spent the night out in the open, had often stood guard by a lonely camp-fire, when darkness was all around and only the weird voices of the night were heard; and he gave little thought to these things. He was very tired and very sleepy and it took about all the thought power he had to compel himself to stay awake.
An hour past. There had not been a suspicious sound nor movement; and Bud began to feel more secure, began to relax some of his vigilance, began to close his eyes now and then for a brief moment, began to lean more comfortably against the trunk of the tree—then, suddenly, he straightened himself up with a jerk, his eyes wide open, his cocked rifle held ready for instant use. Sure he had heard a sound, a sound that did not belong to the night, a thud like the fall of some heavy body on soft ground, and coming from the direction of the camp-fire! For a moment he stared, tense with excitement, toward the camp-fire, now glowing dully; but he saw nothing unusual, heard nothing unusual. Thure still lay by the side of the log, his form showing faintly in the dull light. The horses were grazing quietly—he could just distinguish their forms through the darkness. They showed no alarm.
"Queer! I certainly heard something fall; and right near! Well, I reckon I had better make sure that everything is all right with Thure," and Bud very cautiously stepped out from the shadows of the tree and, moving softly, crept up to where Thure lay. His deep regular breathing told him that he was sound asleep and that all was well with him.
"Must have been dreaming," he muttered in disgust, and returned to his station under the tree; but he did not close his eyes again.
There were no other suspicious sounds during the remainder of his watch, nor during the watch of Thure; and the dawning of morning found both boys and all their belongings safe and sound.
"Did you see or hear anything suspicious during your watch?" was Bud's first query, when Thure awoke him the next morning.
"No. Why?" answered Thure. "Did you?"
"Well, I—I don't know," and Bud jumped to his feet and began looking sharply around over the ground near the camp-fire.
Suddenly he uttered an exclamation and, bending quickly down, picked up a large flat stone that was lying between the log, near which Thure had slept, and the camp-fire.
"I—I don't remember of seeing this stone here last night," and he turned it over curiously; and then uttered another exclamation that brought Thure to his side on the jump.
The stone was flat, some three inches thick, nearly round, and, possibly, a foot in diameter. One side was nearly white and smooth; and the astonished eyes of the boys read, rudely written on this side, evidently with a piece of charred coal, these ominous words: