 CHAPTER XII Saboth at the Dickings Larry O'Neill takes to wandering and meets with adventures. In Irish shankey discovered, terrible calamities befall travelers on the overland route. There is no country in our fallen world, however debased and morally barren, in which there does not exist a few green spots where human tenderness and sympathy are found to grow. The atmosphere of the gold regions of California was, indeed, clouded to a fearful extent with the soul-destroying vapors of worldliness, selfishness, and ungodliness which the tears of lynch law alone restrain from breaking forth in all their devastating strength. And this is not to be wondered at, for Europe and America naturally poured the flood of their worst inhabitants over the land in eager search for that gold, the love of which we are told in sacred writ is the root of all evil. True, there were many hundreds of estimable men who, falling from adverse circumstances to make livelihood in their native land, sought to better their fortunes in the far west. But in too many cases a gold fever which raged there soon smote them down, and men who once regarded gold as the means to an end came at last to esteem gold to be the end and used every means fair and foul to obtain it. Others there were whose constitutions were proof against the national disease, whose hearts deemed loved to be the highest bliss of man in doing good his greatest happiness. But stilling and destructive though the air of the gold mines was, there were a few hearty plants of moral goodness which defied it, and some of these bloomed in the colony of Little Creek. The Sabbath morning dawned on Ned Sinton and his friends, the first Sabbath since they had begun to dig for gold. On that day the miners rested from their work. Shovel and pick lay quiet in the innumerable pits that had been dug throughout the valley. No cradle was rocked, no pan of golden earth was washed. One reckless man had come to know from experience that the Almighty in his goodness had created the Sabbath for the special benefit of man's body as well as his soul, and that they wrought better during the six days of the week when they rested on the seventh. Unfortunately they believed only what experience taught them. They kept the Sabbath according to the letter, not according to the spirit. And although they did not work they did not refrain from thinking their own thoughts and finding their own pleasure on God's holy day. Early in the morning they began to wander idly about from hut to hut, visited frequently the grog shops, and devoted themselves to gambling, which occupation materially marred even the physical rest they might otherwise have enjoyed. Comrades, said Ned Sinton, as the party sat inside their tent round the Kno-Mitch breakfast was spread, it is long since we have made any difference between Saturday and Sunday, and I think it would be good for us all if we were to begin now. Since quitting San Francisco the necessity of pushing forward on our journey has prevented our doing so hitherto. How far we were right in regarding rapid traveling as being necessary I won't stop to inquire. But I think it would be well if we should do a little more than merely rest from work on the Sabbath. I propose that besides doing this we should read a chapter of the Bible together as a family morning and evening on Sundays. What say you? There was a pause. It was evident that conflicting feelings were at work among the party. Perhaps you're right, said Maxson. I confess that I have troubled myself very little about religion since I came out here, but my conscience has often reproached me for it. Don't you think, mess-mates, said Captain Bunning, lighting his pipe, that if it gets wind the whole colony will be laughing at us? Sure they may laugh, said Larry O'Neill, and after that they may cry if it'll do them good. What's the differ to us? I don't agree with you, Ned, said Tom Collins, somewhat testily. For my part I like to see men straightforward, all fair and above-board, as the Captain would say. Hypocrisy is an abominable vice, whether it is well-meaning or ill-meaning, and I don't see the use of pretending to be religious when we are not. Tom, replied Nedden in earnest voice, don't talk lightly of serious things. I don't pretend to be religious, but I do desire to be so, and I think it would be good for all of us to read a portion of God's word on his own day, both for the purpose of obeying and honoring him, and of getting our minds filled for a short time, at least, with other thoughts than those of gold-hunting. In doing this there is no hypocrisy. Well, well, rejoined Tom. I'll not object if the rest are agreed. Agreed was the unanimous reply. So Ned rose, and, opening his portmanteau, drew forth the little Bible that had been presented to him by old Mr. Shirley on the day of his departure from home. From that day forward, every Sabbath morning and evening, Ned sent and read a portion of the word of God to his companions, as long as they were together, and each of the party afterwards at different times confessed that, from the time the reading of the Bible was begun, he felt happier than he did before. After breakfast they broke up and went out to stroll for an hour or two upon the wooden slopes of the mountains. Ned and Tom Collins went off by themselves, the others, with the exception of Larry, walked out together. That morning Larry O'Neill felt less sociable than was his want, so he sallied forth alone. For some time he sauntered about with his hands in his pockets, his black pipe in his mouth, a thick oak cudgel of his own making under his arm, and his hat set jauntily on one side of his head. He went along with an easy swagger and looked particularly reckless, but no man ever belied his looks more thoroughly. The swagger was unintentional, and the recklessness did not exist. On the contrary, the reading of the Bible had brought back to his mind a flood of home memories, which forced more than one tear from his susceptible heart into his light blue eye, as he wandered in memory over the green hills of Aaron. But the scenes that passed before him as he roamed about among the huts and tents of the miners soon drew his thoughts to subjects less agreeable to contemplate. On weekdays the village, if we may thus designate the scattered groups of huts and tents, was comparatively quiet, but on Sundays it became a scene of riot and confusion. Not only was it filled with its own idle population of diggers, but miners from all the country round within a circuit of eight or ten miles flocked into it for the purpose of buying provisions for the week, as well as for the purpose of gambling and drinking, this being the only day in all the week in which they indulged in what they termed a spree. Consequently the gamblers and storekeepers did more business on Sunday than on any other day. The place was crowded with men in their rough, though picturesque, bandit-like costumes, rambling about from store to store, drinking and inviting friends to drink, or losing in the gaming saloons all the earnings of a week of hard, steady toil, toil more severe than is that of navies or coal heavers. There seemed to be an irresistible attraction in these gambling houses. Some men seemed unable to withstand the temptation and they seldom escaped being fleeced. Yet they returned, week after week, to waste in these dens of iniquity the golden treasure gathered with so much labor during their six working days. Larry O'Neill looked through the doorway of one of the gambling houses as he passed, and saw men standing and sitting round the tables, watching with eager faces the progress of the play, while ever in a none one of them would reel out more than half drunk with excitement and brandy. Passing on through the crowded part of the village which looked as if a fair were being held there, he entered the narrow footpath that led towards the deeper recesses at the head of the valley. O'Neill had not yet, since his arrival, found time to wander far from his own tent. It was, therefore, with a feeling of great delight that he left the scene of riot behind him, and, turning into a by-path that led up one of the narrow ravines, opening into the larger valley, strolled several miles into deep solitudes that were in harmony with his feelings. The sun streamed through the entrance to this ravine, bathing with a flood of light, crags and caves and bush-encompassed hollows that at other times were shrouded in gloom. As the Irishmen stood gazing in awe and admiration at the wild, beautiful scene, beyond which were seen the snowy peaks of the Sierra Nevada, he observed a small, solitary tent pitched on a level patch of earth at the brow of a low cliff. Curiosity prompted him to advance and ascertain what unsociable creature dwelt in it. A few minutes suffice to bring him close upon it, and he was about to step forward when the sound of a female voice arrested him. It was soft and low, and the accents fell upon his ear with the power of an old familiar song. Being at the back of the tent, he could not see who spoke, but from the monotonous regularity of the tone he knew that the woman was reading. He passed noiselessly around to the front, and peeping over the tops of bushes obtained a view of the interior. The reader was a young woman, whose face, which was partially concealed by a massive light-brown hair as she bent over her book, seemed emaciated and pale. Looking up, just as Larry's eye fell upon her, she turned towards a man whose gaunt, attenuated form, lay motionless on a pile of fresh wood beside her and said tenderly, Are you tired, Patrick, dear, or would you like me to go on? Larry's heart gave his ribs such a thump at that moment that he felt surprised the girl did not hear it. But he could not approach. He was rooted to the earth as firmly, though not as permanently, as the bush behind which he stood. An Irish voice, and an Irish girl, heard and seen so unexpectedly, quite took away his breath. The sick man made some reply, which was not audible, and the girl, shutting the book, looked up for a few moments as if in silent prayer. Then she clasped her hands upon her knees, and laying her head upon them remained for some time motionless. The hands were painfully thin, as was her whole frame. The face was what might have been pretty at one time, although it was haggard enough now, but the expression was peculiarly sorrowful. In a few minutes she looked up again and spread the ragged blanket more carefully over the shoulders of the sick man, and Larry, feeling that he was at that time in the questionable position of an eavesdropper, left his place of concealment and stood before the tent. The sick man saw him instantly, and raising himself slightly exclaimed, Who goes there? Sure I can't get laid to die in pace! The familiar tones of a countryman's voice fell pleasantly on Larry's ear as he sprang into the tent, and, seizing the sick man's hand, cried, A blizzard on the mouth that said that same! Oh, Pat, darling, I'm glad to mate with you. What's the matter with you? Tell me now, and don't be looking as if you'd seen a ghost. Kate back, said the girl, pushing Larry aside, with a half-pleased, half-angry expression. Don't you see that you almost made him faint? He's too weak and turly to be. Oh, then, kush, forgive me. I wouldn't have forgotten myself. Listens on your pale face. Sure, you're Irish, too. Before the girl could reply to this speech which was uttered in a tone of the deepest sympathy, the sick man recovered sufficiently to say, Sit down, friend. How come you'd alarm me name? I guess I never saw you before. Sure, didn't I hear your wife say it as I came forward to the tent? Answered Larry, somewhat staggered at the un-Irish word, Guess. Hey, as my brother remarked the girl. I told you've got a dash of the Yankee brogues, said Larry, with a puzzled look. Did you not come from the old country? The sick man seemed too much exhausted to reply, so the girl said, Our father and mother were Irish and left their own country to settle in America. We have never seen Ireland, my brother, nor I, but we think of it as almost our own land. Haven't been brought up in the woods and seen almost no one but father and mother for days and weeks at a time. We've got a good deal of the Irish tone. Ah, then you have raisin' to be thankful for that same, remarked Larry, who was a little disappointed that his new friends were not altogether Irish. But after a few minutes' consideration, he came to the conclusion that people whose father and mother were natives of the Emerald Isle could no more be Americans simply because they happened to be born in America than they could be fish if they chanced to be born at sea. Having settled this point to his satisfaction, he proceeded to question the girl as to their past history and the cause of their present sag condition, and gradually obtained from her the information that their father and mother were dead and that having heard of the minds of California, her brother had sold off his farm in the backwoods and proceeded by the overland route to the new land of gold in company with many other Western hunters and farmers. They reached it after the most inconceivable sufferings in the beginning of winter and took up their abode at Little Creek. The rush of emigration from the Western states to California by the overland route that took place at this time was attended with the most appalling sufferings and loss of life. Men sold off their snug farms, packed their heavy wagons with the necessaries for a journey with their wives and little ones over a wilderness more than 2,000 miles in extent, and set off by scores over the prairies toward the ultimate thule of the far west. The first part of their journey was prosperous enough, but the weight of their wagons rendered the pace slow, and it was late in the season air they reached the great barrier of the Rocky Mountains. But severe, although the sufferings of those first emigrants were, they were as nothing compared with the dire calamities that befell those who started from home later in the season. All along the route the herbage was cropped bare by those who had gone before, their oxen broke down, burning sandy deserts presented themselves when the wretched travelers were well nigh exhausted, and when at length they succeeded in reaching the great mountain chain, its dark passes were filled with the ice and snow of early winter. Hundreds of men, women, and children fell down and died on the burning plain, or clambered up the rugged heights to pillow the dying heads at last on reeds of snow. To add to the unheard of miseries of these poor people, scurvy in its worst forms attacked them, and the air of many of their camping places was heavy with this stench arising from the dead bodies of men and animals that had perished by the way. It was late in the season, said Kate Morgan as Larry's new friend was named, when me brother Patrick and I set off with our wagon and oxen and my little sister Nally, who was just able to run about with her curly yellow hair, streaming over her party-shoulders and her laugh on blue eyes, almost spakin' when they looked at ya. The poor girl spoke with deep pathos as she mentioned Nally's name, while Larry O'Neill sat with his hands clasped, gazing at her with an expression of the deepest commiseration. We got pretty well on at first, she continued after a pause, because our wagon was lighter than most of the others, but it was near winter before we got to the mountains and then our troubles were good. First of all one of the oxen fell and broke its leg, then darling Nally fell sick and Patrick had to carry her on his back up the mountains, for I had got so weak myself that I wasn't fit to take her up. All the way over I was troubled with one of the emigrants that kept us company. There was thirty of us all together. He was a very bad man and none of us liked him. He took a fancy to me and asked me to be his wife so often that I had to make Patrick order him to cape away from us all together. He went off in a black rage swear and he'd be revenged and, oh, continued Cate ringing her hand. He kept his word. One day there was a dispute between our ladders which way we should go, for we had got to two passes in the mountains, so one party went one way and we went another. Through the night my lover came into our camp to wish me good-bye, he said, for the last time as he was going with the other party. After he was gone I missed Nally and went out to seek for her among the tents of my neighbours, but she was nowhere to be found. At once I guessed he had taken her away, for well did he know I would sooner have lost my life than my own darling Nell. Again the girl paused a few moments, then she resumed in a low voice. We never saw him or Nelly again. It is said the whole party perished and I believe it, for they were far spent in the road they took, I've been told, as worse than the one we took. It was dead winter when we arrived, and Patrick and me came to live here. We made a good deal at first by digging, but we both fell sick of the egg, and we've been scarce able to cape us alive till now, but it won't last long. Very Patrick is broken down entirely, as you see, and I haven't strength the most to go down to the diggins for food. I haven't been there for a month, and it's four miles away, as I dare say you know. We'll both be at rest soon. Ah, now don't say that again, or I'd lary smiting his thigh with energy. You'll be nothing of a sort, that shall won't. Sure your brother Pat is sleeping now like an infant he is, and I'll go down myself to the stores and get your medicines and a doctor, and what not. Cheer up now. Larry's enthusiastic efforts to console his new friend were interrupted by the sick man who awoke at the moment and whispered the word, food. His sister rose, and taking up a small tim pan that simmered on the fire in front of the tent, poured some of its contents into a dish. What is it to give him, inquired Larry, taking the dish from the girl's hands and putting it to his lips. He instantly spat out the mouth-bowl, for it was soup made of rancid pork without vegetables of any kind. "'Tis all I've got left,' said the girl, even if I was able to go down for more he wouldn't let me. But I couldn't, for I've tried more than once and near died on the road. Besides, I haven't a grain of gold in the tent. "'Oh, mother, taranages!' cried Larry, staring first at the girl and then at her brother, while he slapped his thighs and twisted his fingers together, as if he wished to wrench them out of joint. "'Hold on. Fie! I'll do it. Don't give it in place. Hold on. Dool!' Larry O'Neill turned round as he spoke, seized his cudgel, sprang right over the bushes in front of the tent, and in two minutes more was seen far down the ravine, spurning the ground beneath him as if life and death depended on the race. CHAPTER XIII. DICKING'S WACK'S UNPRODUCTIVE. Ned takes a ramble and has a small adventure. Plans formed and partly developed. Remarkable human creatures discovered and still more remarkable converse held with them. "'I'll trouble you for two pounds of flour,' cried Larry O'Neill, dashing into one of the stores, which was strong with purchasers, whom he thrust aside rather unceremoniously. "'You'll have to take your turn, stranger, I calculate,' answered the storekeeper, somewhat sharply. "'Ah, then, please do attend to me at once. For sure I've run four miles to get stuff for a dying family. Won't you know?' The earnest manner in which Larry made this appeal was received with a laugh by the bystanders and a recommendation to the storekeeper to give him what he wanted. "'What's the price?' inquired Larry, as the man measured it out. "'Two dollars a pound,' answered the man. "'Mosch, I've said it, chaper. "'I guess so have I. But provisions are getting up, for nothing has come from Sacramento for a fortnight. "'Tay and sugar'll be as bad, no doubt. Worse they are, for there's next to none at all a pine in this here location. "'Fy, I'll have a pound of both, if they was two dollars a half ounce. Have you got raisins and seagull? "'Yes, give me a pound of that age.' "'These articles haven't been delivered and paid for,' Larry continued. "'You'll have brandy, of course. I guess I have plenty at twenty dollars a bottle. "'Oh, mother, it'll break the bank entirely. "'But it's little I care. "'Hand me one bottle, please.' The bottle of brandy was added to his store, and then the Irishman, shouldering his bundle of good things, left the shop and directed his steps once more towards the ravine in which dwelt Kate Morgan and her brother Pat. It was late when the Irishman returned from his mission of kindness, and he found the fire nearly out, the tent closed, and all his comrades sound asleep. So, gently lifting the curtain that covered the entrance, he crept quietly in, lay down beside Bill Jones, whose nasal organ was performing a trombone solo, and in five minutes was sound asleep. It seemed to him as if he had barely closed his eyes when he was roused by his comrades, making preparations to resume work. Nevertheless, he had rested several hours, and the gray hue of early day that streamed in through the opening of the tent warned him that he must recommend the effort to realize his golden drains. The pursuit of gold, however engrossing it may be, does not prevent men from desiring to lie still in the morning or abate one jot of the misery of their condition when they are rudely roused by early comrades and told that it's time to get up. Larry O'Neill, Tom Collins and Maxden groaned on receiving this information from Ned, turned and made as if they meant to go to sleep. But they meant nothing of the sort. It was merely a silent testimony to the fact of their thorough independence, an expressive way of showing that they scorned to rise at the bidding of any man and that they would not get up till it pleased themselves to do so. That this was the case became evident from their groaning again two minutes afterwards and turning round on their backs. Then they stretched themselves and sitting up stared at each other like owls. A moment after, Maxden yawned vociferously and fell back again quite flat and act which was instantly imitated by the other two, such as the force of bad example. By this time the captain and Jones had left the tent and Ned Sinton was buckling on his belt. Now, then, get up and don't be lazy, cried the latter as he stepped out dragging all the blankets off the trio as he took his departure and act which disclosed the fact that trousers and flannel shirts were the sleeping garments of Maxden and Tom and that Larry had gone to bed in his boots. The three sprang up immediately and after performing their toilets, sallied forth to the banks of the stream where the whole population of the place was already hard at work. Having worked out their claims, which proved to be pretty good, they commenced nude diggings close beside the old ones but these turned out complete failures accepting that selected by Captain Bunding which was as rich as a first. The gold deposits were in many places very irregular in their distribution and it frequently happened that one man took out thirty or forty dollars a day from his claim while another man working within a few yards of him was, to use a mining phrase, unable to raise the color, that is, to find gold enough to repay his labor. This uncertainty disgusted many of the impatient gold hunters and not a few returned home saying that the finding of gold in California was a mere lottery who, if they had exercised a little patience and observation, would soon have come to know the localities in which gold was most likely to be found. There is no doubt whatever that the whole country is impregnated more or less with the precious material. The quartz veins and the mountains are full of it and although the largest quantities are usually obtained in the beds of streams and on their banks, gold is to be found in smaller quantities even on the tops of the hills. Hitherto the miners at Little Creek had found the diggings on the banks of the streams sufficiently remunerative, but the discovery of several lumps of gold in its bed induced many of them to search for it in the shallow water, and they were successful. One old sea captain was met by Bill Jones with a nugget the size of a goose egg in each hand, and another man found a single lump of almost pure gold that weighed fourteen pounds. These discoveries induced Ned Sinton to think of adopting a plan which had been in his thoughts for some time past, so one day he took up his rifle intending to wander up the valley for the double purpose of thinking out his ideas and seeing how the diggers higher up got on. As he sauntered slowly along he came to a solitary place where no miners were at work in consequence of the rugged nature of the banks of the stream rendering the labor severe. Here on a projecting cliff which overhung a deep dark pool or eddy he observed the tall form of a naked man whose brown skin bespoken the native of a southern climb. While Ned looked at him wondering what he could be about the man suddenly bent forward, clasped his hands above his head, and dived into the pool. Ned ran to the margin immediately and stood for nearly a minute observing the dark, indistinct form of the savage as he groped along the bottom. Suddenly he rose and made for the shore with a nugget of gold in his hand. He seemed a little disconcerted on observing Ned, who addressed him in English, French, and Spanish, but without eliciting any reply save a grunt. This however did not surprise our hero who recognized the man to be a sandwich islander whom he had met before in the village and whose powers of diving were well known to the miners. He ascertained by signs, however, that there was much gold at the bottom of the stream which doubtless the diver could not detach from the rocks during the short period of his immersion, so he hastened back to the tent, determined to promulgate his plan to his comrades. It was noon when he arrived, and the miners were straggling from all parts of the diggings to the huts, tents, and restaurants. Ah! Maxed and glad I found you alone, cried Ned, seating himself in an empty box before the fire over which the former was engaged in culinary operations. I have been thinking over a plan for turning the course of the stream and so getting at a portion of its bed. Now, that's odd, observed Maxedon. I have been thinking of the very same thing all morning. Indeed, which jump, they say, I fancy that I had the honor of first hitting on the plan. First hitting on it, rejoined Maxedon smiling. My dear fellow, it has not only been hit upon but hit off many months ago with considerable success in some parts of the diggings. The only thing that prevents it being generally practiced is that men require to work in companies, for the preliminary labor is severe, and miners seem to prefer working singly or in twos and threes as long as there is good paydirt on the banks. Well, then, the difficulty does not affect us, because we are already a pretty strong company, although our vac yearl has left us. I have seen a place this morning which I think will do admirably to begin upon. It is a deep pool a few miles up the stream under. I know it, interrupted Maxedon putting a large slice of pork into the frying pan, which hissed delightfully in the ears of hungry men. I know the place well, but there is a much better spot, not a quarter of a mile higher up, where a China man named Awau lives. It will be more suitable, you'll find when I show it you. We'll go and have a look at it after dinner, observed Ned. Meanwhile, here are our comrades, let us hear what they have to say about the proposal. As he spoke, Collins Jones, Larry and the Captain, advanced in single file and with disconsolate looks they told of hard toil and little reward. Well, what have you got, comrades? Nothing, answered Bill Jones, drawing forth his comforter. Neal's comforter was black and short, and had a bowl, and was at all times redolent of tobacco. Nivorous spec, cried Larry O'Neill, setting to with energy to assist in preparing dinner. Well, friends, I have a plan to propose to you. So let us take the edge off our appetites, and I'll explain. Ned sat down tailor-fashioned on the ground with his companions round him, and while they devoted themselves ravenously and silently to tea, flour cake, salt, pork, and beans, he explained to them the details of his plan, which explanation, if it was not the dinner, had the effect of raising their spirits greatly. Instead, therefore, of repairing to their profitless claims after dinner, they went in a body up the stream to visit the Chinaman's diggings. Captain Bunting alone remained behind, as his claim was turning out a first-rate one. Sir, there's a human, cried Larry, as they turned a projecting point about an hour and a half later, and came inside of Awau's location, as the Yankees termed it. It may be a human, remarked Ned laughing, but it's the most inhuman one I ever saw. I think Yanderefella must be performing a surgical operation on the Chinaman's head. Awau was seated on a stone in front of his own log hut, with his arms resting on his knees and an expression of supreme felicity on his yellow face, while a countryman, in what appeared a nightgown and an immense straw hat, dressed his tail for him. Lest uninformed readers should suppose that Awau belonged to the monkey tribe, we may mention that the Chinaman's head was shaved quite bald all round, with the exception of a tail of hair about two feet long and upwards of an inch thick, which jetted from the top of his cup-hut and hung down his back. This tail he was in the act of getting dressed when our party of miners broke in upon the privacy of his dressing-room. Awau had a nose which was very flat and remarkably broad, with the nostrils pointing straight to the front. He also had a mouth which was extremely large, frightfully thick-lipped, and quite the reverse of pretty. He had two eyes also, not placed like the eyes of ordinary men across his face, on either side of his nose, but set in an angular manner on his visage, so that the outer corners pointed a good deal upwards and the inner corners pointed a good deal downwards towards the point of his nose, or rather towards that vacant space in front of his nostrils, which would have been the point of his nose if that member had had a point at all. Awau also had cheekbones which were uncommonly high, and a forehead which was preposterously low, and a body which was rather squat, and a tout ensemble which was desperately ugly. Like his hairdresser, he wore a coat somewhat resembling a night-shirt with a belt around it, and his feet were thrust into yellow slippers. These last when he went to dig for gold he exchanged for heavy boots. When Ned and his friends walked up and stood in a grinning row before him, Awau opened his little eyes to the uttermost, which wasn't much, and said, How? If he had a fixed do-ya-do to it, the sentence would have been complete and intelligible. His companion attempted to vary the style of a dress by exclaiming, Ho! Can you speak English, inquired Ned, advancing? A shake of the head and a consequent waggle of the tail was the reply. Or French? Shake and waggle. Maybe you can do Irish, suggested Larry. The shake and waggle were more vigorous than before. But Awau rose, and drawing on his boots, made signs to his visitors to follow him, which they did through the bushes round the base of a steep precipice. A short walk brought them to an open space quite close to the banks of the stream, which at that place was broken by sundry miniature waterfalls and cascades whose puny turmoil fell like woodland music on the air. Here was another log hut of minute dimensions and ruinous aspect in front of which sat another Chinaman eating his dinner. Him Awau addressed as Koxing. After a brief conversation, Koxing turned to the strangers and said, Ho! Can speak English, me-can. What you want? We want to look at your diggings, answered Ned. We are going to turn the river here if we can, and if you and your companions choose to join us we will give you good wages. Can speak, but not very well understand. Work? Work, you say, and pay me? Yes, that's it. You work for us and we'll pay you. How much? inquired the cautious celestial. Five dollars a day, replied Ned. The Chinaman put on a broad grin and offered to shake hands, which offer was accepted not only by Ned but by the whole party, and the contract was thus settled on the spot to the satisfaction of all parties. After this they spent some time in examining the bed of the stream and having fixed upon a spot on which to commence operations they prepared about sunset to return for their tent and mining tools, intending to make a moonlight flitting in order to avoid being questioned by over-curious neighbors. All their horses and mules except Ned's charger, having been sold a few days before to a Yankee who was returning to Sacramento, they expected to get off without much noise with their goods and chattels on their backs. Before starting on their return, while the rest of the party were crowding round and questioning Co-Sing, Bill Jones, whose mind since he arrived in California seemed to be capable of only one sensation, that of surprise, went up to Awau and glancing round in order to make sure that he was not observed, laid his hand on his shoulder and looked inquiringly into the Chinaman's face. The Chinaman returned the compliment with interest, throwing into his shallow countenance an expression of, if possible, blanker astonishment. "'Oh, wow,' said Bill with solemn gravity and pausing, as if to give him time to prepare for what was coming. "'Oh, wow! What do you dress your pigtail with?' "'Ho,' replied the Chinaman. "'Ho!' echoed Bill. "'Now, that's curious. I thought it's how you did it with grace, for it looks like it.' "'Tell me now, how long did it take before it growed that long?' He lifted the end of the tail as he spoke. "'How?' ejaculated the Chinaman. "'I. How long?' repeated Bill. "'We regret that we cannot give Awau's answer to this question, seeing that it was never given and consequence of Bill being suddenly called away by Ned Sinton as he and his friends turned to go. "'Come, Bill, let's be off.' "'Aye, aye, sir,' answered Bill, turning from the Chinaman and following his comrades with solemn solidity, or if you prefer the expression with stolid solemnity. "'Don't linger, Larry,' shouted Tom Collins. "'Auf, then, it's cruel to tear me away. "'Good night, Jebaawal. We'll be back before morning, ya party creature.' With this affectionate farewell, Larry ran after his friends and followed them down the banks of the tumbling stream towards the Rio Bank of California, which was destined that night for a time, at least, to close its doors. CHAPTER XIV. OF THE GOLDEN DREAM. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. THE GOLDEN DREAM BY R. M. BALLANTINE. CHAPTER XIV. THE NEW DIGGINGS. GRIGHT PROSPECTS. Great results spring from great exertions, even in California. Captain Bunting is seized with a great passion for solitary rambling and has two desperate encounters—one with a man, the other with a bear. The part of the Little Creek diggings to which the Gold Hunters transported their camp was a wild, secluded spot, not much visited by the miners, partly on account of its gloomy appearance, and partly in consequence of a belief that the Celestials located there were getting little or no gold. In this supposition they were correct. Ah, wow! And Co-Sing, being inveterately lazy, contented themselves with digging just enough gold to enable them to purchase a sufficiency of the necessaries of life. But the region was extremely rich as our adventurers found out very soon after their arrival. One of the ravines in particular gave indications of being full of gold and several panels of earth that were washed out showed so promising a return that the Captain and Larry were anxious to begin at once. They were overruled, however, by the others who wished to make trial of the bed of this stream. Six days of severe labor were undergone by the whole party ere their task was accomplished, during which period they did not make an ounce of gold while, at the same time their little store was rapidly melting away. Nevertheless they worked heartily, knowing that a few days of successful digging would amply replenish their coffers. At Grey Dawn they set to work, some with trousers tucked up, paddling about in the water all day, carrying mud and stones, while others felled trees and cut them into logs wherewith to form the dam required to turn the stream from its course. This was a matter of no small difficulty. A new bed had to be cut to the extent of eight or ten yards, but for a long time the free and jovial little mountain stream scorned to make such a pitiful twist in its course, preferring to burst its way headlong through the almost completed barricade by which it was pent up. Twice did it accomplish this feat, and twice in so doing did it sweep Captain Bunting off his legs and roll him along bodily in a turmoil of mud and stones and dirty water, roaring as it gushed forth as if in savage triumph. On the second occasion Phil Jones shared the Captain's ducking, and all who chanced to be working about the dam at the time were completely drenched. But however much their bodies might be moistened, no untoward accident could damp the ardor of their spirits. They resumed work again, repaired the breach, and finally turned the obstinate stream out of the course which probably it had occupied since creation. It rushed hissing as if spitefully along its new bed for a few yards, and then darted at a right angle back into its former channel along which it leaped exultingly as before. But the object for which all this trouble had been undertaken was attained. About eight yards of the old bed of the torrent were laid bare, and the water was drained away, where at each of the party exhibited his satisfaction after his own peculiar manner, Larry O'Neill as usual giving bent to his joy in a hearty cheer. The result was even more successful than had been anticipated. During the next few days the party conversed little, their whole energies being devoted to eating, sleeping, and digging. The bed of this stream was filled with stones among which they picked up numerous nuggets of various sizes, from a pea to a walnut, some being almost pure gold while others were more or less mixed with quartz. A large quantity of the heavy black sand was also found at the bottom of a hole which once had been an eddy. It literally sparkled with gold dust and afforded a rich return for the labor previously expanded in order to bring it to light. The produce of the first two days' work was no less than fourteen pounds weight of gold. The third day was the Sabbath, and they rested from their work. It is, however, impossible for those who have never been in similar circumstances to conceive how difficult it was for our party of gold-hunters to reframe from resuming work as usual on that morning. Some of them had never been trained to love or keep the Sabbath, and would have certainly gone to work had not nedden the captain remonstrated. All were under great excitement in consequence of their valuable discovery and anxious to know whether the run of luck was likely to continue and not one of the party escaped the strong temptation to break the Sabbath day, except, indeed, the Chinaman who were too easygoing and lazy to care whether they worked or rested, but the inestimable advantage of good early training told at this time on neddsittin. It is questionable whether his principles were strong enough to have carried him through the temptation, but ned had been trained to reverence the Lord's day from his earliest years, and he looked upon working on the Sabbath with a feeling of dread which he could not have easily shaken off even had he tried. The promise in his case was fulfilled. Train up a child in the way he should go, and he will not depart from it when he is old. And though no mother's voice of warning was heard in that wild region of the earth, and no guardian's hand was there to beckon back the straggler from the paths of rectitude, yet he was not let alone. The arm of the Lord was around him, and his voice whispered in tones that could not be misunderstood. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. We have already said that the Sabbath at the mines was a day of rest as far as near digging went, but this was simply for the sake of resting the wearied frame, not from a desire to glorify God. Had any of the reckless minors who filled the gambling house has been anxious to work during Sunday on a prolific claim, he would not have hesitated because of God's command. The repose to their overworked muscles, and the feeling that they had been preserved from committing a great sin, enabled the party to commence work on Monday with a degree of cheerfulness and vigor that told favorably on their profits that night, and in the course of a few days they dug out gold to the extent of nearly two thousand pounds sterling. We're going to get rich, no doubt of it, said the Captain one morning to Ned as the latter was preparing to resume work in the creek. But I'll tell you what it is, I'm tired of salt, beef, and pork. My old hole was getting rheumatic with a pad on about barefoot in the water, so I mean to go off for a day shooting in the mountains. Very good, Captain, replied Ned, but I fear you'll have to go by yourself, for we must work out this claim as fast as we can, seeing that the miners further down won't be long as sending out our discovery. Ned's words were prophetic. In less than half an hour after they were uttered, a long visage diankee in a straw hat, nanking trousers, and fisherman's boots, came to the spot where they were at work and seated himself on the trunk of a tree hard by to watch their proceedings. Guess you've got something, he said, as Larry, after groping in the mud for a little, picked up a lump of white quartz with a piece of gold the size of a marble embedded in the side of it. Ah, but you're good for sore eyes, cried Larry, examining the nugget carefully. I say, stranger, inquired the diankee, do you get many bits like that in this location? The Irishman regarded his question with an expressive lure. Ah, now you won't tell, he said in a hoarse whisper. Shars will be the death of me off you do. There's no end to them things here. As many as you'll like to pick. It's only the day before tomorrow that I turned up a nugget of pure gold the size of my head, and the captain got all the one that's only half dug out yet, and what's seen it is as big as the head of a five-gallon cask, all pure gold. The diankee was not to be put off the scent by such a facetious piece of information. He continued to smoke in silence, sauntered about with his hands in his nanking pockets, watched the proceedings of the party, inspected the dirt cast ashore, and finally dug out and washed a pan full of earth from the banks of the stream, after which he threw away the stump of his cigar and went off whistling. Three hours later he returned with a party of friends laden with tents, provisions, and mining tools, and they all took up their residence within twenty yards of our adventurers and commenced to turn the course of the river just below them. Larry and Jones were at first so angry that they seriously meditated, committing an assault upon the intruders, despite the remonstrances of Tom Collins and Maxston who assured them that the newcomers had a perfect right to the ground they occupied, and that any attempt to interrupt them by violence would certainly be brought under the notice of Judge Lynch, whose favorite punishments they well knew were whipping and hanging. Meanwhile, Captain Bunting had proceeded a considerable way on his solitary hunting expedition into the mountains, bent upon replenishing the larder with fresh provisions. He was armed with his favorite blunderbuss, a pocket compass, and a couple of ship-biscuits. As he advanced towards the head of the valley the scenery became more and more gloomy and rugged, but the Captain liked this. Having spent the greater part of his life at sea he experienced new and delightful sensations in viewing the mountain peaks and ravines by which he was now surrounded, and although of a sociable turn of mind he had no objection for once to be left to ramble alone and give full vent to the feelings of romance and enthusiastic admiration with which his nautical bosom had been filled since landing in California. Towards noon the Captain reached the entrance to a ravine or gorge which opened upon the larger valley into which it discharged a little stream from its dark bosom. There was an air of deep solitude and rugged majesty about this ravine that induced the wanderer to pause before entering it. Just then certain sensations reminded him of the two biscuits in his pocket, so he sat down on a rock and prepared to dine. We say prepared to dine advisedly, for Captain Bunting had a pretty correct notion of what comfort meant and how it was to be attained. He had come out for the day to enjoy himself and although his meal was frugal he did not on that account eat it in an offhand easy way while sauntering along, as many would have done, by no means. He brushed the surface of the rock on which he sat quite clean and laying the two biscuits on it looked first at one and then at the other complacently while he slowly and with great care cut his tobacco into delicate shreds and filled his pipe. Then he rose and taking the tim prospecting pan from his belt went and filled it at the clear rivulet which murmured at his feet and placed it beside the biscuits on the rock. This done he completed the filling of his pipe and cast a look of benignity at the sun which at that moment appeared in his course to pass an opening between two lofty peaks which permitted him to throw a cloth of gold over the captain's table. Captain Bunting's mind now became imbued with those aspirations after knowledge which would have induced him had he been at sea to inquire, how's her head? So he pulled out his pocket compass and having ascertained that his nose, when turned towards the sun, pointed exactly south, southwest, and by south, he began dinner. Thereafter he lit his pipe and reclining on the green turf beside the rock with his head resting on his left hand and wreathes the smoke encircling his visage he enjoyed himself. To elaborate a description reader often weakens it. We cannot say more than that he enjoyed himself emphatically. Had Captain Bunting known who was looking at him in that solitary place he would not have enjoyed himself quite so much nor would he have smoked his pipe so comfortably. On the summit of the precipice at his back stood, or rather sat, one of the natives of the country in the shape of a grizzly bear. Bruin had observed the captain from the time he appeared at the entrance of the ravine and had watched him with a curious expression of stupid interest during all his subsequent movements. He did not attempt to interrupt him in his meal, however, on two grounds. First because the nature of the grizzly bear is not molested and deuces him to let others alone, and secondly because the precipice on the top of which he sat, although conveniently close for the purposes of observation, was too high for a safe jump. Thus it happened that Captain Bunting finished his meal in peace and went on his way up the wild ravine without being aware of the presence of so dangerous a spectator. He had not proceeded far when his attention was arrested by the figure of a man seated on a ledge of rock that overhung a yawning gulf into which the little stream plunged. So still did the figure remain with the head drooping on the chest as if in deep contemplation that it might have been mistaken for a statue cut out of the rock on which it sat. A deep shadow was cast over it by the neighboring mountain peaks, yet as the white sheet of a waterfall formed the background it was distinctly visible. The Captain advanced towards it with some curiosity, and it was not until he was within a hundred yards that a movement at length proved it to be a living human being. The stranger rose hastily and advanced to meet a woman who at the same time issued from an opening in the brushwood near him. The meeting was evidently disagreeable to the woman, although from the manner of it and the place it did not seem to be accidental. She pushed the man away several times, but their words were in audible to the Captain who began to feel all the discomfort of being an unintentional observer. Uncertainty as to what he should do induced him to remain for a few moments inactive, and he had half made up his mind to endeavor to retreat unobserved, when the man suddenly struck down the female who fell with a faint cry to the earth. In another minute the Captain was at the side of the dastardly fellow whom he seized by the neck with a left hand while with the right he administered a hearty blow to his ribs. The man turned round fiercely and grappled with his assailant, and then Captain Bunting became aware that his antagonist was no other than Smith, alias Black Jim, the murderer. Smith, although a strong man, was no match for the Captain who soon overpowered him. Ha! You villain, have I gotcha! cried he as he almost throttled man. Get up now and come along peaceably. If you don't, I'll knock your brains out with a butt of my gun. He permitted Black Jim to rise as he spoke, but held him fast by the collar, having previously taken from him his knife and rifle. Black Jim did not open his lips, but the scowl on his visage showed the feelings of deadly hatred burned in his bosom. Meanwhile, the girl had recovered and now approached. Ah, please, sir, she said, let him off, sure I don't mind the blow. It's done me no harm, won't you now? Let him off, exclaimed the Captain violently. No, my good girl, if he has not murdered you he has at any rate murdered one human being that I know of, and if I can I'll bring him to justice. Kate, for it was she, started at this reply and looked earnestly at the man who hung his head, and for the first time showed symptoms of a softer feeling. Ah, it's true, I see, and all hope is gone. If he'd commit a murder he'd tell a lie, too. I thought he spoke truth when he said Nellie was alive, but the girl turned as she spoke and left the spot hurriedly, while the Captain took out his pocket-hanger-chief and began to fasten the arms of his prisoner behind him. But Black Jim was not to be secured without a struggle. Despair lent him energy and power, darting forward he endeavored to throw his captor down and partially succeeded. But Captain Bunting's spirit was fully roused, and, like most powerful men whose dispositions are habitually mild and peaceful, he was in a blaze of uncontrollable passion. For some time Black Jim writhed like a serpent in the strong grasp of his antagonist, and once or twice it seemed as if he would succeed in freeing himself. But the Captain's hands had been trained for years to grasp and hold on with vice-like tenacity, and no efforts could disengage them. The two men swayed too and fro in their efforts, no sound escaping them, save an occasional gasp for breath as they put forth renewed energy in a deadly struggle. At last Black Jim began to give way. He was forced down on one knee, then he fell heavily on his side, and the Captain placed his knee on his chest. Just then a peculiar hiss was heard behind them, and the Captain, looking back, observed that a third party had come upon the scene. The grizzly bear, which has been described as watching Captain Bunting at dinner, had left its former position on the brow of the precipice, and whether from motives of curiosity or by accident, we will not presume to say, had followed the Captain's track. It now stood regarding the two men with an uncommonly ferocious aspect. Its indignation may perhaps be accounted for by the fact that they stood in the only path by which it could advance, a precipice on one side and a thicket on the other rendering the passage difficult or impossible. Grizzlies are noted for their objection to turn out of their way for man or beast, so the combatants no sooner beheld the ferocious looking animal than they sprang up, seized their weapons, and fired together at their common enemy. Bruin shook his head, uttered a savage growl, and charged. It seemed as if Black Jim had missed altogether not to be wondered at considering the circumstances, and the mixture of shot and slugs from the blunderbuss was little more hurtful than a shower of hail to the thick-skinned monarch of these western hills. Be this as it may, the two men were compelled to turn and flee for their lives. Black Jim, being the nimble of the two, was soon out of sight among the rocks of the precipices, and we may remark in passing he did not again make his appearance. Inwardly thanking the bear for its timely appearance, he ran at top speed into the mountains and hid himself among those wild, lonely recesses that are visited but rarely by man or beast. Captain Bunting endeavored to save himself by darting up the face of the precipice on his left, but the foothold was bad, and the bear proved about as nimble as himself, compelling him to leap down again and make for the nearest tree. In doing so he tripped over a fallen branch and fell with stunning violence to the ground. He rose, however, instantly, and grasping the lower limb of a small oak, drew himself with some difficulty up among the branches. The bear came thundering on and reached the tree a few seconds later. It made several abortive efforts to ascend, and then, sitting down at the foot, it looked up, grinning and growling horribly in disappointed rage. The captain had dropped the blunderbuss in his fall and now, with deep regret and not a little anxiety, found himself unarmed and a prisoner. True, his long knife was still in its place, but he was too well aware of the strength and ferocity of the grizzly bear from hearsay and now from ocular demonstration to entertain the idea of acting on the offensive with such a weapon. The sun sank behind the mountain peaks, and the shades of night began to fall upon the landscape, and still did captain bunting and the bear sit, the one at the top and the other at the foot of the oak tree, looking at each other. As darkness came on, the form of the bear became indistinct and shadowy, and the captain's eyes waxed heavy from constant staring and fatigue, so that at length Bruin seemed to be alarmed fancy of the treed mariner to be twice the size of an elephant. At last the darkness became so deep that its form mingled with his shadows on the ground, and for some time the uncertainty as to its actual presence kept the prisoner wakeful. But soon his eyes began to close, despite his utmost efforts to keep them open, and for two hours he endured an agonizing struggle with sleep, compared to which his previous struggle with black gym was mere child's play. He tried every possible position among the branches in the hope of finding one in which he might indulge in sleep without the risk of falling, but no such position was to be found. The limbs of the tree were too small and too far apart. At last, however, he did find a spot to lie down on, and with a sigh of relief lay back to indulge in repose. Alas! The spot was a myth. He merely dreamed it. The next moment he dropped like a huge overripe pear to the ground. Fortunately a bush broke the violence of his fall, and springing up with a cry of consternation he rushed towards the tree, expecting each instant to feel the terrible hug of his ursine enemy. The very marrow in his backbone seemed to shrink, for he fancied that he actually felt the dreaded claws sinking into his flesh. In his haste he missed the branch and fell violently forward, scratching himself terribly among the bushes. Again he rose, and a cold perspiration broke out upon him as he uttered an involuntary howl of terror, and once more leaped up at the limb of the oak which he could just barely see. He caught it. Despair nerved him, and in another moment he was safe and panting violently among the branches. We need scarcely say that this little episode gave his feeling such a tremendous shock that his tendency to sleep was thoroughly banished. But another and a better result flowed from it. The involuntary hubbub created by his yells and crashing falls reached listening and not far distant ears. During their evening meal that day Ned Stanton and his comrades had speculated pretty freely and somewhat jocularly on the probable result of the captain's hunting expedition, expressing opinions regarding the powers of the blunderbuss, which it was a shame Larry O'Neill said to spake behind its back. But as night drew on they conversed more seriously, and when darkness had fairly set in they became anxious. It's quite clear that something's wrong cried Ned Stanton entering the tent hastily. We must up and search for him. The captain's not the man to lose his way with a compass in his pocket and so many landmarks around him. All the party rose at once and began to buckle on belts and arm while eagerly suggesting plans of search. Who can make a torch, inquired Ned? Here's one ready made to hand, cried Maxton, seizing a huge pine knot and lighting it. Someone must stay behind to look after our things. Newcomers who can't beside us today are not used to mining life and don't sufficiently know the terrors of lynch law. Do you stop, Maxton? Now then the rest of you come along. Ned issued from the tent as he spoke and walked at a rapid pace along the track leading up to the valley, followed closely by Tom Collins, Larry O'Neill, and Bill Jones, all of whom were armed with rifles, revolvers, and bowing knives. For a long time they walked on in silence, guided by the faint light of the stars, until they came to the flat rock which informed the captain's dinner table. Here they called a halt in order to discuss the probability of their lost comrade having gone up the ravine. The question was soon settled by Larry, who discovered a few crumbs of the biscuit lying on the rock and footprints leading up the ravine, for the captain-worthy man had stepped recklessly into the little stream when he went to fill his panic and his wet feet left a distinct track behind him for some distance. He can't have gone far at such a wild place as this, said Tom Collins, while they moved cautiously along. Kindle the torch, Ned. It will light us on our way and be a guide to the captain if he's within sight. It will enlighten enemies, too, if any are within range," replied Ned, hesitating. Oh, no fear, rejoined Tom. Our greatest enemy is darkness. Here, Jones, hand me your matchbox. In a few seconds the torch flared, casting a broad glare of light on their path as they advanced, examining the foot of precipices. Give a shout, Larry, said Ned. Larry obeyed and all listened intently, but saved the echo from the wild cliffs. No reply was heard. Had the captain been wide awake at the time he would doubtless have heard the friendly shout, but his ears were dull from prolonged watching. It was thought needless to repeat the cry, so the party resumed their search with anxious forebodings in their hearts, though their lips were silent. They had not proceeded far, however, when the noise occasioned by the captain's fall from the tree as already described struck upon their ears. Look! What's that? exclaimed Larry with a look of mangled surprise and superstitious fear. For a minute the party seemed transformed into statues as each listened intently to the mysterious sounds. They come from the other side of the point ahead, remarked Ned in a whisper. Light another torch, Larry, and come on, quick! Ned led the way at a run, holding one of the torches high above his head, and in a few minutes passed round the point above referred to. The glare of his torch immediately swept far ahead and struck with gladsome beam on the now wakeful eye of the captain who instantly greeted it with one of his own peculiarly powerful and eminently nautical roars. Harroo! yelled Larry in reply, dashing forward at full speed. Here we are all right, Captain, come into the rescue. Don't give in, Captain, pitch into the black guards. Look out for the grizzly bear! roared the captain as his friends advanced at a run waving their torches encouragingly. The whole party came to a dead halt on this unexpected caution, and each cocked his piece as they looked first into the gloom beyond and then at each other in surprise and perplexity. Harroo! Captain, where are you, shuddered Ned? And where's the bear, added Tom Collins? Right in front of you, replied the captain, about fifty yards on. The bear's at the bottom of the tree, and I'm at top of it. Come on and fire together, but aim low, do you hear? Aye-aye, sir, replied Bill Jones, as if he were answering a command on shipboard, while he advanced boldly in the direction indicated. The others were abreast of him instantly, Ned and Larry holding the torches high in their left hands as they approached, step by step, with rifles ready for instant use. Have a care, cried the captain, I see him. He seems to be crouching to make a rush. This caused another halt, but as no rush was made the party continued to advance. Very slowly. Oh, have you ever done any sure yourself, said Larry in a suppressed tone of exasperation at being kept so long in nervous expectation. I see him, cried Ned, taking aim. The rest of the party cried, where? Aimed in the same direction, and the whole fired a volley the result of which was that Captain Bunding fell a second time to the ground, crashing through the branches with a terrible noise and a lighting heavily at the foot of the tree. To the surprise of all he instantly jumped up and seizing Ned and Thomas they came up shook them warmly by the hand. Oh, are you not shot, Captain? exclaimed Larry. Not a bit, not even hurt, answered the captain, laughing. The fact was that Captain Bunding, in his anxiety to escape being accidentally shot by his comrades, had climbed to the utmost possible height among the tender top branches of the oak. When the volley was fired he lost his balance fell through the tree, the underbranches of which happily broke his fall, and finally alighted on the back of the grizzly bear itself which lay extended and quite dead on the ground. Fie, we've polished him off for once, cried Larry, in the excess of his triumph as he stood looking at the fallen bear. Fie, we've done nothing of the sort, retorted Tom Collins who was examining the carcass. It's been dead for hours, and is quite cold. Every bullet is missed, too, for the shot that settled him is on the side next to the ground. So much for hasty shooting, had Bruin been alive when we fired, I'm inclined to think that some of us would not be alive now. Now, that's what I was sure of, remarked Bill Jones. What I says is this. When you're going aloft to reef top sails, don't be in a hurry. It's a no manner of use trying to shove on the wind. If you've got a thing to do, do it slow, slow and sure. If you haven't got a thing to do, of course you can't do it. But if you have, don't be in a hurry, I says. Bill Jones Maxim is undoubtedly a good one. Not a scratch had the berry seed from any one of the party. The bullet of black Jim had laid him low. Although hurriedly aimed, it had reached the animal's heart, and all the time that Captain Bunting was struggling to overcome his irresistible tendency to sleep, poor Bruin was lying a helpless and lifeless body at the foot of the oak tree. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 of The Golden Dream This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Golden Dream by R. M. Ballantyne. Chapter 15 Ah Wow Saved from an Untimely Fate Lynch Law Enforced Ned Sinton Resolves to Renounce Gold Digging for a Time and Tom Collins Seconds Him Ah Wow sat on the stump of an oak tree looking to use a familiar, though incorrect expression, very blue indeed. And no wonder for Ah Wow was going to be hanged. Perhaps, courteous reader, you think we are joking, but we assure you we are not. Ah Wow had just been found guilty, or pronounced guilty, which at the diggings meant the same thing, of stealing two thousand dollars worth of gold dust and was about to expiate his crime on the branch of a tree. There could be no doubt of his guilt. So said the enlightened jury who tried him. So said the half tipsy judge who condemned him. And so said the amiable populace which had assembled to witness his execution. It cannot be denied that appearances went very much against Ah Wow. So much so that Maxson and even Captain Bunting entertained suspicions as to his innocence, though they pleaded hard for his pardon. The gold had been discovered hidden near the Chinaman's tent, and the bag containing it was recognized and sworn to by at least a dozen of the diggers as that belonging to the man from whom the gold had been stolen. The only point that puzzled the jury was the strong assertions of Captain Bunting, Maxson and Collins that, to their certain belief, the poor celestial had dug beside them each day and slept beside them each night for three weeks past at a distance of three miles from the spot where the robbery took place. But the jury were determined to hang somebody, so they shut their ears to all and sundry, save and accept to those who cried out, String the reptile up, serve them right. Co-Sing also sat on the tree stump, endeavoring to comfort Ah Wow by stroking his pigtail and howling occasionally in an undertone. It seemed indeed that the poor man's career was drawing to a close, for two men advanced in seizing his pinioned arms, led him under the fatal limb. But a short respite occurred in consequence of a commotion in the outskirts of the crowd where two men were seen forcing a passage towards the center. Ned Sinton and Larry O'Neill had been away in the mountains prospecting at the time when Ah Wow was captured and led to the settlement near the first residence of our adventurers to stand his trial. The others accompanied the condemned man in order if possible to save him, leaving Jones behind to guard their property and acquaint Ned with the state of affairs on his return. Our hero knew too well the rapid course of Lynch Law to hesitate. He started at once with Larry down the stream to save if possible the life of his servant for whom he felt a curious sort of patronizing affection, and who he was sure must be innocent. He arrived just in time. Hold on, boys, cried Larry, flourishing his spelt hat as they pushed through the crowd. Stay friends, cried Ned, gaining the center of the circle at last. Don't act hastily. This man is my servant. That don't make him an honest man, I guess, said a cynical bystander. Perhaps not, retorted Ned, but it binds me in honor to clear him if I can. Here, here, said several voices. Get up on the stump and far away, stranger. Ned obeyed. Gentlemen, he began, I can swear in the first place that the Chinaman has not been a quarter of a mile from my tent for three weeks past so that he could not have stolen the gold. How then came it beside his tent, inquired a voice. I'll tell you if you will listen. This morning early I started on a prospecting ramble up the stream, and not long after I set out I caught a glance of that villain black Jim, who, you know, has been supposed for some time back to have been lurking in the neighborhood. He ran off the moment he caught sight of me, and although I followed him at full speed for a considerable distance he succeeded in escaping. However, I noticed the print of his footsteps in a muddy place over which he passed, and observed that his right boot had no heel. On returning home this afternoon and hearing what had happened, I went to the spot where the bag of gold had been discovered and there, sure enough, I found footprints, one of which showed that the wearer's right boot had no heel. Now, gentlemen, it don't need much speaking to make so clear a matter clearer. I leave you to judge whether this robbery has been committed by the Chinaman or not. Ned's speech was received with various cries, some of which showed that the diggers were not satisfied with his explanation, and Awao's fate still trembled in the balance when the owner of the bag of gold stepped forward and admitted that he had observed similar footprints in the neighborhood of his tent just after the robbery was committed and said that he believed the Chinaman was innocent. This set the matter at rest. Awao was cast loose and congratulated by several of the bystanders on his escape, but there seemed a pretty general feeling amongst many of the others that they had been unjustly deprived of their prey, and there is no saying what might have happened had not another culprit appeared on the scene to divert their attention. The man who was led forward had all the marks of a thorough desperado about him. From his language it was impossible to judge what country had the honor of giving him birth, but it was suspected that his last residence had been Botany Bay. Had this man's innocence been ever so clearly proved he could not have escaped from such judges in their then disappointed state of mind, but his guilt was unquestionable. He had been caught in the act of stealing from a Monty table. The sum was not very large, however, so it was thought a little too severe to hang him, but he was condemned to have his head shaved, his ears cut off, and to receive a hundred lashes. The sentence was executed promptly, not withstanding the earnest demonstrations of a few of the better disposed among the crowd, and Ned, seeing that he could do nothing to mitigate the punishment of the poor wretch, left the spot with his comrades and the rescued Chinaman. That night as they all sat round their campfire, eating supper with a degree of zest known only to those who labor at severe and out-of-door occupation all day, Ned sent an astonished his companions, not a little, by stating his intention to leave them for the purpose of making a tour through the country. Make a tour? exclaimed Nexton in surprise. And leave all the gold, cried Larry O'Neill, pausing in his mastication of a tough lump of bear steak. Why, boy, said Captain Bunting, laying down his knife and looking at Ned in amazement, what's put that in your head, eh? Being somewhat tired of grubbing in the mud as put it into my head, replied Ned, smiling, the fact is, comrades, that I feel disposed for a ramble, and I don't feel bent on making a fortune. You may perhaps be surprised to hear such a statement, but not at all, by no means, interrupted Bill Jones. I'm surprised at nothing in this here country. If I seed a first-rate man of war coming up the valley at 15 knots with stun-sails aloh and off, stem on against the wind and carrying all before it like nothing, I wouldn't be surprised, not a bit so I wouldn't. Well, perhaps not, resumed Ned, but surprised or not, my statement is true. I don't care about making my pile in a hurry. Life was not given to us to spend it in making or digging gold, and being quite satisfied in the meantime with the five or six hundred pounds of profits that fall to my share, I am resolved to make over my unfinished claim to the firm and set out on my travels through the country. I shall buckle on my boy-knife and revolver, and go where fancy leads me as long as my funds last. When they are exhausted, I will return and set to work again. Now, who will go with me? Are you in earnest, asked Tom Collins? In earnest? Aye, that am I. Never was more so in my life. Why, I feel quite ashamed of myself. Here have I been living for weeks in one of the most romantic and beautiful parts of this world without taking more notice of it almost than if it did not exist. Do you think that with youth and health and a desire to see everything that is beautiful in creation, I'm going to stand all day and every day up to the knees in dirty water, scraping up little particles of gold? Not I. I mean to travel as long as I have a dollar in my pocket. When that is empty, I'll work. Ned spoke in a half-jesting tone, but there is no doubt that he gave utterance to the real feelings of his heart. He felt none of that eager thirst for gold, which burned like a fever in the souls of hundreds and thousands of the men who poured at that time in a continuous and ever-increasing stream into California. Gold he valued merely as a means of accomplishing present ends. He had no idea of laying it up for the future. Married men, he thought, might perhaps, with propriety, amass money for the benefit of their families. But he wasn't a married man and didn't mean to be one, so he felt in duty bound to spend all the gold he dug out of the earth. We do not pretend to enter into a disquisition as to the correctness or incorrectness of Ned's opinions. We merely state them, leaving our reader to exercise his own reasoning powers on the subject, if so disposed. For a few seconds after Ned's last speech, no sound escaped the lips of his comrades, save those resulting from the process of mastication. At last Tom Collins threw down his knife and slapped his thigh energetically as he exclaimed. I'll go with you, Ned. I've made up my mind. I'm tired of digging, too, and I'm game for a ramble into the heart of the Rocky Mountains, if you like. Bravo, Tom, cried Captain Bunting, slapping his companion on the shoulder. Well, I'm bravely spoken, but you're a goose for all that, and so, save in his presence, is Commodore Ned's hinting. Why, you'll just waste two months or so in profitless laundering and return beggars to the Little Creek to begin the work all over again. Take my advice, lads, the advice of an old salt who knows a thing or two, and remain where you are till we have worked out all the gold hereabouts. After that you may talk a-shifting. You're a very sour old salt to endeavor to damp our spirits in that way at the outset, but it won't do. My mind is made up, and I'm glad to find that there is at least one of the party who is strong enough to break these golden chains. Fine, I come here for good, and I'll stop here for the same reason, remarked Larry scraping the last morsels from the bottom of the kettle with an iron spoon. Well, I've traveled mournery nothing more day, so I can afford to stop at home now. Get out, you renegade. Do you call this home, cried Ned? Tis all that's of it at present anyhow. When shall we start, inquired Tom Collins? Tomorrow we have few preparations to make, and the sooner we go the better, for when the rainy season sets in our journeying will be stopped for force. I have a plan in my mind which I shall detail to you after we retire to rest. Meanwhile, I'll go and improve my bed, which has been so uncomfortable for some nights past that my very bones are aching. Ned Rose took up an axe and going into the bush in rear of the tent, cut down a young pine tree, the tender shoots and branches of which he stripped off and strewed thickly on the ground on which he was want to sleep. Over these he spread two thick blankets, and on this simple but springy and comfortable couch, he and Tom Collins lay down side by side to talk over their future plans while their comrades snored around them. Daylight found them still talking, so pausing by mutual consent, they snatched an hour's repose before commencing the needful preparations for their contemplated journey. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of The Golden Dream This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Golden Dream by R. M. Ballantyne Chapter 16 Ned and Tom take to wandering, philosophical speculations, a startling apparition, the digger Indians, water boiled in a basket, the gloomy pass, the attack by robbers, the fight, a surprise, the encampment. Change is one of the laws of nature. We refer not to small change reader, but to physical material change. Everything is given to change. Men and things and place and circumstances all change, more or less as time rolls on in its endless course. Following then this inevitable law of nature, we too will change the scene and convey our reader deeper in among the plains and mountains of the far, far west. It is a beautiful evening in July. The hot season has not yet succeeded in burning up all nature into a dry russet brown. The whole face of the country is green and fresh after a recent shower, which has left myriads of diamond drops trembling from the point of every leaf and blade. A wide valley of a noble park like appearance is spread out before us with scattered groups of trees all over it, blue mountain ranges in the far distance circling round it and a bright stream winding down its emerald breast. On the hillsides, the wildflowers grow so thickly that they form a soft, thick couch to lie upon. Immense trees, chiefly pines and cedars rise here and there like giants above their fellows. Oaks, too, are numerous and the scene in many places is covered with manzanita underwood, a graceful and beautiful shrub. The trees and shrubbery, however, are not so thickly planted as to intercept the view and the ground undulates so much that occasionally we overtop them and obtain a glimpse of the wide veil before us. Over the whole landscape there is a golden, sunny haze that enriches while it softens every object and the balmy atmosphere is laden with the sweet perfume called forth by the passing shower. One might fancy Eden to have been somewhat similar to this, and here, as there, the presence of the Lord might be recognized in a higher degree than in most other parts of this earth, for in this almost untrodden wilderness, his preeminently beautiful works have not yet to any great extent been marred by the hand of man. Far away towards the North two horsemen may be seen wending their way through the country at a slow, ambling pace as if they would fame prolong their ride in such a lovely veil. The one is Ned Sinton, the other Tom Collins. It had cost these worthies a week of steady riding to reach the spot on which we now find them during which time they had passed through great varieties of scenery had seen many specimens of digging life and had experienced not a few vicissitudes, but their grease were few and slight compared with their enjoyments, and at the moment we overtake them they were riding they knew not, and they cared not wither. Sufficient for them to know that the wilds before them were illimitable, that their steeds were of the best and fletest Mexican breed, that their purses were well lined with dollars and gold dust, that they were armed with rifles, pistols, knives, and ammunition to the teeth, and that the land was swarming with game. It is a perfect paradise, exclaimed Tom Collins, as they rained up on the brow of a hill to gaze at the magnificent prospect before them. Strange, murmured Ned, half soliloquizing, that although so wild and uncoldivated it should remind me so forcibly of home. Yonder bend in the stream and the scenery rounded is so like the spot where I was born and where I spent my earliest years that I can almost fancy the old house will come into view at the next turn. It does indeed remind one of the cultivated parks of England, replied Tom, but almost all my early associations are connected with cities. I have seen little of uncontaminated nature all my life, except the blue sky through chimney tops, and even that was seen through a medium of smoke. Do you know, remarked Ned, as they resumed their journey at a slow pace, it has always seemed to me that cities are unnatural monstrosities and that there should be no such things. Indeed, replied Tom, laughing, how then would you have men to live? In the country, of course, in cottages and detached houses, I would sew London, Liverpool, Manchester, etc. broadcast over the land so that there would be no spot in Britain in which there were not clusters of human dwellings, each with its little garden around it, and yet no spot on which a city could be found. Rather awkward for the transaction of business, I fear, suggested Tom. Not a bit. Our distances would be greater, but we could overcome that difficulty by using horses more than we do, and railroads. And how would you manage with huge manufacturers, inquired Tom? I've not been able to solve that difficulty yet, replied Ned, smiling, but my not being able to point out how things may be put right does not in the least degree alter the fact that as they are at present, they are wrong. Most true, my sagacious friend, said Tom, but pray, how do you prove the fact that things are wrong? I prove it thus. You admit, I suppose, that the air of all large cities is unhealthy as compared with that of the country, and that men and women who dwell in cities are neither so robust nor so healthy as those who dwell in country places. I'm not sure that I do admit it, answered Tom. Surely you don't deny that people of the cities deem it necessary of life to get off to the country at least once a year in order to recruit, and that they invariably return better in health than when they left. True, but that is the result of change. I, added Ned, the result of change from worse to better. Well, I admit it for the sake of argument. Well, then, if the building of cities necessarily and inevitably creates a condition of atmosphere, which is, to some extent, no matter how slight, prejudicial to health, those who build them and dwell in them are knowingly damaging the life which has been given them to be cherished and taken care of. Ned, said Tom quietly, you're a goose. Tom retorted Ned, I know it. But in the sense in which you apply the term, all men are geese. They're divided into two classes, namely geese who are such because they can't and won't listen to reason, and geese who are such because they take the trouble to talk philosophically to the former. But to return from this digression, what thank you of the argument? Tom replied by reining up his steed, pointing to an object in front and inquiring. What thank you of that? The object referred to as a man. But in appearance, at least, he was not many degrees removed from the monkey. He was a black squat hideous looking native, and his whole costume, besides the little strip of cloth usually worn by natives round the loins, consisted of a black silk hat and a pair of Wellington boots. Dear reader, do not suppose that I am trying to impose upon your good nature credulity. What I state is a fact, however unlikely it may appear in your eyes. The natives of this part of the country are called digger Indians, not with reference to gold digging, but from the fact of their digging subterranean dwellings in which they pass the winter, and also from the fact that they grub in the earth a good deal for roots on which they partly subsist. They are degraded, miserable creatures, and altogether uncivilized, besides being diminutive in stature. Soon after the first flood of gold hunters swept over their lands, these poor creatures learned the value of gold, but they were too lazy to work diligently for it. They contented themselves with washing out enough to purchase a few articles of luxury in the shape of cast off apparel from the white men. When stores began to be erected here and there throughout the country, they visited them to purchase fresh provisions and articles of dress of which latter they soon became passionately fond. But the digger Indians were not particular as to style or fashion, glitter and gay color were the chief elements of attraction. Sometimes a naked savage might be seen going about with a second hand dress coat put on the wrong way and buttoned up the back. Another would content himself with a red silk handkerchief tied round his head or shoulders. A third would thrust his spindle shanks through the arms of a sleeved vest and button the body round his loins, while a fourth, like the one now under consideration, would parade about in a hat and boots. The poor digger had drawn the right boot on the left foot and the left boot on the right. A matter of little moment, however, as they were immensely too large for him, as was also the hat, which only remained on his brows by being placed very much back on the head. He was a most singular being and Ned and Tom, after the first glance of astonishment, were so unmannered as to laugh at him until they almost fell off their horses. The digger was by no means disconcerted. He evidently was accustomed to the free and easy manners of white men, and while they rolled in their saddles he stood quietly beside them, grinning hideously from ear to ear. Truly a rare specimen of humanity, cried Ned when he recovered his composure. Where did you come from, old boy? The digger shook his head and uttered some unintelligible words. It's of no use speaking to him. He don't understand English, said Tom Collins, with a somewhat puzzled expression. The two friends made several attempts to ask him by signs where he lived, but they utterly failed. Their first efforts had the effect of making the man laugh, but their second attempts, being more energetic and extravagant, frightened him so that he manifested a disposition to run away. This disposition they purposely encouraged until he fairly took to his heels, and by following him they at last came upon the village in which his tribe resided. Here they found an immense assemblage of men and women and children whose appearance denoted dirtiness, laziness and poverty. They were almost all in a state bordering on nudity, but a few of them were miscellaneous portions of European apparel. The hair of the men was long, except on the forehead where it was cut square just above the eyebrows. The children were no clothes at all. The infants were carried on stiff cradles similar to those used by North American Indians. They all resided in tents made of brushwood and sticks, and hundreds of mangy half-starved currs dwelt along with them. The hero of the hat and boots was soon propitiated by the gift of a few inches of tobacco, and Ned, Sinton and Tom Collins were quickly on intimate terms with the whole tribe. It is difficult to resist the tendency to laugh when a human being stands before you in a ludicrously meager costume making hideous grimaces with his features and remarkable contortions with his limbs in the vain efforts to make himself understood by one who does not speak his language. Ned's powers of endurance were tested in this way by the chief of the tribe, an elderly man with a beard so sparse that each stumpy hair might have been easily counted. This individual was clad in the rough, ragged blue coat usually worn by Irish laborers of the poorest class. It was donned with the tails in front and two brass buttons, the last survivors of a once glittering double row fastened it across the back of its savage owner. What can he mean, said Ned at the close of a series of pantomimic speeches in which the Indian vainly endeavored to get him to understand something having reference to the mountains beyond, for he pointed repeatedly towards them. It seems to me that he would have us understand, said Tom, that the road lies before us and the sooner we take ourselves off the better. Ned shook his head. I don't think that likely. He seems rather to wish us to remain. More than once he has pointed to his tent and beckoned us to enter. Perhaps the old fellow wants us to become members of his tribe, suggested Tom. Evidently he cannot lead his braves in the war path as he was want to do, and he wishes to make you chief in his room. What, thank you, shall we remain? The blue coat would suit you admirably. During this colloquy the old savage looked from one speaker to another with great eagerness, as if trying to comprehend what they said. Then, renewing his gesticulations, he succeeded at last in convincing the travelers that he wished them not to pursue their journey any further in the direction in which they were going. This was a request with which they did not, however, feel disposed to comply. But seeing that he was particularly anxious that they should accept of his hospitality, they dismounted, and fastening their horses to a tree close beside the opening of the chief's hut, they entered. The inside of this curious beehive of a dwelling was dirty and dark, besides being half full of smoke created by the pipe of a squaw, the old man's wife, who regaled herself there with a soothing weed. There were several dogs there also, and two particularly small infants in wooden cradles, who were tied up like mummies and did nothing but stare right before them into space. What's that, inquired Tom, pointing to a basket full of smoking water? It looks like a basket, replied Ned. It is a basket, remarked Tom, examining the article in question, and as I live, superb soup in it. Tom, said Ned sitting solemnly, have a care. If it is soup, depend upon it. Dogs or rats form the basis of its composition. Ned, said Tom with equal solemnity, eat and ask no questions. Tom followed his own advice by accepting a dish of soup with a large lump of meat in it, which was at that moment offered to him by the old chief, who also urged Ned senten to partake. But he declined, and lighting his pipe proceeded to enjoy a smoke, at the same time handing the old man a plug of tobacco which he accepted promptly and began to use forthwith. While thus engaged they had an opportunity of observing how the squall boiled water in a basket. Laying aside her pipe, she hauled out a goodly-sized and very neatly made basket of wicker work, so closely woven by her own ingenious hands that it was perfectly watertight. This she three-quarters filled, and then put into it red-hot stones which she brought in from a fire kindled outside. The stones were thrown in, in succession, until the temperature was raised to the boiling point, and afterwards a little dead animal was put into the basket. The sight of this caused Tom Collins to terminate his meal somewhat abruptly and induce Ned to advise him to try a little more. No thank you, replied Tom, lighting his pipe hastily, and taking up a bow in several arrows which he appeared to regard with more than usual interest. The bow was beautifully made, rather short, and tipped with horn. The arrows were formed of two distinct pieces of wood spliced together and were shod with flint. They were feathered in the usual way. All the articles manufactured by these natives were neatly done, an event's considerable skill in the use of their few and simple tools. After resting half an hour, the two friends rose to depart, and again the old Indian manifested much anxiety to prevail on them to remain. But resisting all his entreaties, they mounted their horses and rode away, carrying with them the good wishes of the community by the courtesy of their manners and a somewhat liberal distribution of tobacco at parting. The country through which they passed became wilder at every step, for each hour brought them visibly near the mountain range, and towards nightfall they entered one of the smaller passes, or ravines, that divided the lower range of hills at which they first arrived. Here a rugged precipice from which projected pendant rocks and scrubby trees rose abruptly on the right of the road, and a dense thicket of underwood mingled with huge masses of fallen rock lay on their left. We used the word road advisedly for the broad highway of the flowering plains over which the horsemen had just passed, narrowed at this spot as it entered the ravine, and was a pretty well-defined path over which parties of diggers and wandering Indians occasionally passed. Does not this wild spot remind you of the nursery tales we used to read, said Ned, as they entered the somewhat gloomy defile, which used to begin once upon a time? Ned, is that a grizzly? Both riders drew up abruptly and grasped their rifles. I hear nothing, whispered Ned. It must have been imagination, said Tom, throwing his rifle carelessly over his left arm, as they again advanced. The gloom of the locality, which was deepened by the rapidly gathering shades of night, quieted their spirits and induced them to ride on in silence. About fifty yards further on the rustling in the bushes was again heard, and both travelers pulled up and listened intently. Pshaw! cried Ned at last, urging his horse forward, and throwing his piece on his shoulder. We are starting at the rustling of the night wind. Come, come, Tom, don't let us indulge superstitious feelings. At that moment there was a crash in the bushes on both sides of them, and their horses reared wildly, as four men rushed upon them. Before their steeds became manageable they were each seized by a leg and hurled from their saddles. In the fall their rifles were thrown out of their grasp into the bushes, but this mattered little for in a close struggle pistols are better weapons. Seizing their revolvers, Ned and Tom instantly sprang up and fired at their assailants, but without effect, both being so much shaken by their fall. The robbers returned the fire also without effect. In the scuffle Ned was separated from his friend and only knew that he maintained the fight manfully from the occasional shots that were fired near him. His whole attention, however, had to be concentrated on the two stalwart ruffians with whom he was engaged. Five or six shots were fired at a few yards distance quick as lightning, yet strange to say, all missed. Then the taller of the two opposed to Ned hurled his revolver full in his face and rushed at him. The pistols struck Ned on the chest and almost felled him, but he retained his position and met the highwayman with a well-directed blow of his fist right between the eyes. Both went down under the impetus of the rush, and the second robber immediately sprang upon Ned and seized him by the throat. But he little knew the strength of the man with whom he had to deal. Our hero caught him in the iron grasp of his right hand, while with his left he hurled aside the almost inanimate form of his first assailant, then, throwing the other on his back, he placed his knee on his chest and drew his bowy knife. Even in the terrible passion of mortal combat, Ned shuddered at the thought of slaying a helpless opponent. He threw the knife aside and struck the man violently with his fist on the forehead, and then sprang up to rescue Tom, who, although he had succeeded at the outset in felling one of the robbers with the butt of his pistol, was still engaged in doubtful strife with a man of great size and power. When Ned came up the two were down on their knees, each grasping the other's wrist in order to prevent their bowy knives from being used. Their struggles were terrible, for each knew that the first who freed his right hand would instantly take the other's life. Ned settled the matter, however, by again using his fist, which he applied so promptly to the back of the robber's neck that he dropped as if he had been shot. Thank you. God bless you, Ned, gasped Tom as soon as he recovered breath. You have saved my life, for certainly I could not have held out a minute longer. The villain has all but broken my right arm. Never mind, cried Ned, stooping down and turning the stunned robber over on his face. Give me a hand, boy. We must not let the fellows recover and find themselves free to begin the work over again. Take that fellow's neckcloth and tie his hands behind his back. Tom obeyed at once, and in a few minutes the four high women were bound hand and foot and laid at the side of the road. Now, said Ned, we must push on to the nearest settlement, hot haste, and bring a party out to escort. Hello? Tom, are you wounded? Not badly. A mirror cut on the head. Why, your face is all covered with blood. It's only in consequence of my wiping it with a bloody handkerchief, then. But you can examine and satisfy yourself. The wound is but slight, I see. We joined Ned after a brief manipulation of Tom's skull. Now, then, let us away. We'll have to catch our horses first, and that won't be an easy matter. Tom was right. It cost them half an hour to secure them and recover their rifles and other arms, which had been scattered over the field of battle. On returning to the spot where the robbers lay, they found them all partially recovered and struggling violently to free themselves. Three of them failed even to slacken their bonds, but the fourth, the powerful man who had nearly overcome Tom Collins, had well-knife freed his hands when his captors came up. Lie quiet, said Ned in a low tone, if you don't want the butt of my rifle on your skull. The man lay down instantly. Tom, go and cut a steak six feet long, and I'll watch these fellows till you come back. The steak was soon brought and lashed to the robbers back in such a manner that he was rendered utterly powerless. The others were secured in a similar manner, and then the two travelers rode forward at a gallop. For nearly an hour they continued to advance without speaking or drawing rain, at the end of that time while sweeping round the jutting base of a precipitous rock, they almost ran into a band of horsemen who were trotting briskly towards them. Both parties hauled and threw forward their rifles, or drew their revolvers for instant use, gazing at each other the while in silent surprise at the suddenness of their meeting. Give in, you villains, at last shouted a stern voice, or will blow you out of the saddle. You've no chance. Down your arms, I say. Not until I know what right you have to command us, replied Ned somewhat nettle at the overbearing tone of his opponent. We are peaceable travelers desiring to hurt no one, but if we were not, surely so large a party need not be afraid. We don't intend to run away, still less do we intend to dispute your passage. The strangers lowered their firearms as if half ashamed of being surprised into a state of alarm by two men. Who said we were afraid, young man, continued the first speaker riding up with his comrades and eyeing the travelers narrowly. Where have you come from, and half comes that your clothes are torn and your face is covered with blood? The party of horsemen edged forward as he spoke in such a manner as to surround the two friends, but Ned, although he observed the movement was unconcerned as from the looks of the party, he felt certain they were good men and true. You are a close interrogator for a stranger, he replied. Perhaps you will inform me where you have come from, and what is your errand in these lonesome places at this hour of the night. I'll tell you what it is, stranger, answered another of the party, a big insolent sort of fellow. We are out after a band of scoundrels that have infested them parts for a long time, and it strikes me you know more about them than we do. Perhaps you are right, answered Ned. May hat they're not very far off from where we're standing, continued the man laying his hand on Tom Collins' shoulder. Tom gave him a look that induced him to remove the hand. Right again rejoined Ned with a smile. I know where the villains are, and I'll lead you to them in an hour if you choose to follow me. The men looked at each other in surprise. You'll not object to some of us riding before and some behind you, said the second speaker, just by way of preventing your horses from running away, they looked a little scary. By no means, answered Ned, lead on, but keep off the edge of the track till I call a halt. Why so, stranger? Never mind, but do as I bid you. The tone in which this was said effectually silenced the man, and during the ride no further questions were asked, about a quarter of an hour afterwards the moon rose, and they advanced at such a rapid pace that in a short time they were close upon the spot where the battle had taken place. Just before reaching it, Ned called a halt and directed the party to dismount and follow him on foot. Although a good deal surprised they obeyed without question, for our hero possessed, in an eminent degree, the power of constituting himself a leader among those with whom he chanced to come into contact. Fastening his horse to a tree, Ned led the men forward a hundred yards. Are these the men you search for, he inquired? They are, sir, exclaimed one of the party in surprise, as he stooped to examine the features of the robbers who lay where they have been left. Hello, exclaimed Tom Collins. I say, the biggest fellow's gone. Didn't we lay him here about? Ah, dare me, yes. Why, this is the very spot, I do believe. All further remarks were checked at that moment by the sound of horses hooves approaching, and almost before anyone could churn round, a horseman came thundering down the pass at full gallop. Uttering a savage laugh of derision, he discharged his pistol full into the center of the knot of men as he passed, and in another moment was out of sight. Several of the onlookers had presence of mind enough to draw their pistols and fire at the retreating figure, but apparently without effect. It's him, cried Tom Collins, and he's mounted on your horse, Ned. After him, lads, shouted Ned as he ran back towards the place where the horses were fastened. Who's is the best horse? Hold on, stranger, said one of the men as he ran up to Ned. You may save your wind. None of the horses can overtake your one, I guess. I was looking at him as we came along. It would only be losing time for nothing, and he's miles ahead by this time. Ned sent and felt that the man's remarks were too true, so he returned to the spot where the remaining robbers lay and found that the miners had cut their fastenings and were busily engaged in rebinding their hands behind them, preparatory to carrying them back to their settlement. It was discovered that the lashings of one of the men had been partly severed with a knife, and as he could not have done it himself, it was plain that the robber who had escaped must have done it, and that the opportune arrival of the party had prevented him from accomplishing his purpose. How the man had broken his own bonds was a mystery that could not now be solved, but it was conjectured that they must have been too weak and that he had burst them by main strength. Another discovery was now made, namely that one of the three robbers secured was no other than Black Jim himself. The darkness of the night had prevented Ned and Tom from making this discovery during the fight. In less time than we have taken to describe it, the robbers were secured and each was mounted behind one of his captors. Ain't you going with us? inquired one of the men, observing that Ned's sentence stood leaning on his rifle as if he meant to remain behind. No, answered Ned. My companion and I have traveled far today. Besides fighting a somewhat tough battle, we mean to camp here for the night and shall proceed to your settlement tomorrow. The men endeavored to dissuade them from their purpose, but they were both fatigued and persisted in their determination. The impression they had made, however, on their new friends was so favourable that one of their number, a Yankee, offered the loan of his horse to Ned and offer which the latter accepted, thankfully, promising to return it safe and sound early on the following day. Five minutes later the sound of the retreating hooves died away and the traveller stood silently side by side in the gloomy ravine. For a few minutes neither spoke. Then Ned heaved a sigh and looking in his companion's face with a serio-comically sad expression said, It may not perhaps have occurred to you, Tom, but are you aware that we are a couple of beggars? If you use the term in its slang sense and mean to insinuate that we are a couple of unfortunate beggars, I agree with you. Well, I have no objection, rejoined Ned, to your taking my words in that sense, but I mean to say that over and above that we are real, veritable, bona fide beggars, in as much as we have not a six pence in the world. Tom Collins's visage grew exceedingly long. Our united purse pursued Ned, hung as you are aware, at my saddle-bowl, and Yon, unmitigated villain who appropriated my good steed, is now in possession of all our hard-earned gold. Tom's countenance became preternaturally grave, but he did not venture to speak. Now continued Ned, forcing a smile, there is nothing for it but to make for the nearest diggings commence work again and postpone our travels to a future and more convenient season. We may laugh at it as we please, my dear fellow, but there's no denying that we are in what the Yankees would call in, on common fix. Ned's remark as to laughing at it was altogether uncalled for and inappropriate, for his own smile might have been more correctly termed a grin, and nothing was further from Tom Collins's thoughts at that moment than laughing. Are the viddles gone, too? inquired Ned hastily. Both turned their eyes toward Tom Collins' horse, which grazed hard by, and both heaved a sigh of relief on observing that the saddle-bags were safe. This was a small drop of comfort in their otherwise bitter cup, and they made the most of it. Each, as if by a common impulse, pretending that he cared very little about the matter, and assuming that the others stood in need of being cheered and comforted, went about the preparations for encamping with a degree of reckless joviality that insensibly raised their spirits, not only up to but considerably above the natural level, and when at last they had spread out their vines and lighted their fire in their pipes they were, according to Tom's assertion, happy as kings. The choosing of a spot to encamp on formed the subject of an amicable dispute. I recommend the level turf under this oak, said Ned, pointing to a huge old tree whose gnarled limbs covered a wide space of level sword. It's too low, objected Tom. Tom could always object, a quality which, while it acted like an agreeable dash of cayenne thrown into the conversation of some of his friends, proved to be sparks applied to gunpowder and that of others. It's too low and doubtless moist. I think that yonder pine with its spreading branches and sweet-smelling cones and carpet of moss below is a much more fitting spot. Now, who is to decide the question if I don't give in, Tom? For I assume, of course, that you will never give in. At that moment an accident occurred which decided the question for them. It frequently happens that some of the huge heavy branches of the oaks in America become so thoroughly dried and brittle by the intense heat of summer that they snap off without a moment's warning, often when there is not a breath of air sufficient to stir a leaf. This propensity is so well known to Californian travelers that they are somewhat careful in selecting their camping ground, yet, despite all their care, an occasional life is lost by the falling of such branches. An event of this kind occurred at the present time. The words had barely passed Ned's lips when a large limb of the oak beside which they stood snapped off with a loud report and fell with a crash to the ground. That settles it, said Tom somewhat seriously as he led his horse towards the pine-tree and proceeded to spread his blanket beneath its branches. In a few minutes the bright flame of their campfire threw a lurid glare on the trees and projecting cliffs of the wild pass while they cooked and ate their frugal meal of jerked beef and biscuit. They conversed little during the repast or after it, for drowsiness began to steal over them, and it was not long before they laid their heads side by side on their saddles and murmuring, Good night, forgot the