Digging for Gold: Adventures in California

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  DESCRIBES AN INCIDENT OF DEVOURING INTEREST, AN UNEXPECTED VISIT, AND AVIOLENT ASSAULT.

  Next day our gold-hunters and the rescued men reached the forest, andafter resting a short time to recruit, continued their journey to thediggings.

  The particular part towards which their steps were directed was BigbearGully, a small and comparatively unknown, because recently discovered,gorge, opening out of the great Sacramento valley. On the way theypassed through a country the very reverse of that which had so nearlycost them their lives. It was well wooded and watered, and aboundedwith game of various kinds, particularly hares, deer, quails, and othercreatures; shooting these afforded pleasant pastime to the sportingcharacters of the party, and consuming them was enjoyed by all withoutexception!

  Rance, the guide, now that he was separated from his comrade, turned outto be a capital fellow, and, during the remainder of the journey, didmuch to make the travellers harmonise. The party now consisted of ourhero and Joe Graddy, Jeffson the Yankee, Douglas the Scot, Meyer theGerman, and Bradling; all of whom, excepting the last, were good andtrue men. As for Bradling, no one could make out what he was, for attimes he was amiable and polite, while at other times he was savage andmorose.

  One night the travellers reached a part of the mountains which wasdensely covered with wood. As there was no moon, and it was almostimpossible to see a step before them, Rance called a halt.

  "We must sleep here," he said to Jeffson. "I had half expected to makeout Bigbear Gully to-night, but the road is not safe; too manyprecipices and steep parts, which require to be passed in daylight."

  "Very good, Rance; then we had better set about encamping."

  "'Tis a dreary-looking place," said Frank Allfrey, glancing round him.

  "'Twill look more cheery when the fire is kindled," said Jeffson.

  "Dismal enough to give a man the blues just now, anyhow," observed JoeGraddy.

  This was undoubtedly true. There is, perhaps, nothing more desolate,more cheerless, more oppressive to the spirits, than the influence ofthe woods at night. They are so dark, so black-looking and dismal, thatone is led irresistibly to contrast them with home and its brightfireside and well-remembered faces--just as the starving man is led byhis condition to dream of rich feasts. In both cases the result is thesame. The dream of food makes the starving man's case more terrible,and the thought of home makes the dreariness of the dark wilderness moredismal.

  But what magic there is in a spark of light! The first burst of flamedrives all the sad lonesome feelings away, and the blaze of theincreasing fire creates positively a home-feeling in the breast. Thereason of this is plain enough. Before the fire is kindled the eyewanders restlessly through the dim light that may chance to straggleamong the trees. The mind follows the eye, and gets lost amongindistinct objects which it cannot understand. The feelings and thefaculties are scattered--fixed upon nothing, except perhaps on this,that the wanderer is far, very far, from home. But when the brightglare of the fire springs up, everything beyond the circle of lightbecomes pure black. The thoughts and feelings are confined within thatchamber with the ebony walls, and are forcibly attracted and made torest upon the tree-stems, the leaves, the flowers, and other objectsthat glow in the ruddy blaze. Thus the thoughts are collected, and thewanderer feels, once more, something of the _home-feeling_.

  It was not long before our travellers realised this agreeable change.The depression of their spirits vanished with the darkness and rose withthe leaping flames, until some of the members of the party became quitefacetious. This was especially the case when supper had been disposedof and the pipes were lighted. It was then that Rance became chatty andanecdotal in his tendencies, and Jeffson told marvellous stories ofYankee-land, and Douglas, who devoted himself chiefly to his pipe,became an attentive listener and an awkward tripper up of the heels ofthose who appeared to be "drawing the long-bow," and Meyer looked, ifpossible, more solid and amiable than at other times, and Frank enjoyedhimself in a general way, and made himself generally agreeable, whileJoe Graddy became profoundly sententious. Even Bradling's natureappeared to be softened, for he looked less forbidding and grumpy thanat other times, and once condescended to remark that a life in the woodswas not such a bad one after all!

  "Not such a bad one!" cried Joe Graddy; "why, messmate, is that allyou've got to say about it? Now I'll give 'e my opinion on that head.This is where it lies--see here." (Joe removed his pipe from his mouthand held up his fore-finger by way of being very impressive.) "I'vetravelled pretty well now in every quarter of the globe; gone rightround it in fact, and found that it _is_ round after all,--'cause why?I went in, so to speak, at one end from the west'ard an' comed out atthe same end from the east'ard, though I must confess it all appeared tome as flat's a pancake, always exceptin' the mountainous parts of it,w'ich must be admitted to be lumpy. Hows'ever, as I wos sayin', I'vebin a'most all over the world--I've smoked wi' the Turks, an' hobnobbledwith John Chinaman, an' scrambled through the jungles of the Indies, an'gone aloft the Himalayas--"

  "What, have you seen the Himalayas?" asked Jeffson, with a doubtfullook.

  "How could I be among 'em without seein' of 'em?" replied Joe.

  "Ah, das is goot--vair goot," said Meyer, opening his huge mouth verywide to let out a cloud of smoke and a quiet laugh.

  "Well, but you know," said Jeffson, apologetically, "a poor fellowlivin' out here in the wilderness ain't just always quite up in thegee-graphical changes that take place on the airth. When was it thatthey cut a ship canal up to the Himalayas, and in what sort o' craft didye sail there?"

  "I didn't go for to say I sailed there at all," retorted Joe; "I walkedit partly, and went part o' the way on elephants an' horses, and wentaloft o' them there mountains pretty nigh as far up as the main-topmastcross-trees of 'em; I've also slep' in the snow-huts of the Eskimos, an'bin tossed about in a'most every sort o' craft that swims, but wot I'vegot to say is this, that of all the things I ever did see, travellin' inCaliforny beats 'em all to sticks and stivers."

  "You've got a somewhat indefinite way of stating things," observedDouglas. "D'ee mean to say that it beats them in a good or a bad way?"

  "I means wot I says," replied Joe, with a stern expression ofcountenance, as he relighted his pipe with the burnt end of a piece ofstick. "I means that it beats 'em _both_ ways;--if ye haven't gotschoolin' enough to understand plain English, you'd better go home againan' get your edicashun completed."

  "I'd do that at once, Joe, if I could only make sure o' finding theschoolmaster alive that reared _you_."

  "Ha! goot," observed the German. "Him must be von notable krakter."

  Further conversation on this point was cut short by the suddenappearance within the circle of light of an Indian, who advanced in ahalf-crouching attitude, as if he feared a bad reception, yet could notresist the attraction of the fire.

  At that time some of the tribes in the neighbourhood of Bigbear Gullyhad committed numerous depredations at the diggings, and had murderedseveral white men, so that the latter had begun to regard the Red Men astheir natural enemies. Indeed some of the more violent among them hadvowed that they would treat them as vermin, and shoot down every nativethey chanced to meet, whether he belonged to the guilty tribe or not.The Indian who now approached the camp-fire of the white men knew thathe had good ground to fear the nature of his reception, and there is nodoubt that it would have been an unpleasant one had it not been for thefact that his appearance was pitiable in the extreme.

  He was squalid, dirty, and small, and so attenuated that it was evidenthe had for some time been suffering from starvation. He wore noclothing, carried no arms of any kind, and was so utterly abject, and soevidently incapable of doing harm to any one, that none of the partythought it worth while to rise, or lay hands on a weapon. When heappeared, Joe Graddy merely pointed to him with the stem of his pipe andsaid--

  "There's a beauty, ain't it? another of the cooriosities of Calif
orny!"

  "Starvin'," observed Rance.

  "Poor wretch!" exclaimed Frank, as the man advanced slowly with timidsteps, while his large sunken eyes absolutely glared at the broken meatwhich lay scattered about.

  "Give him von morsel," suggested Meyer.

  "Give him a bullet in his dirty carcase," growled Bradling.

  The Indian stopped when within ten paces of the fire and grinnedhorribly.

  "Here, stop up your ghastly mouth wi' that," cried Jeffson, tossing alump of salt-pork towards him.

  He caught it with the dexterity of a monkey, and, squatting down on thetrunk of a fallen tree, devoured it with the ravenous ferocity of afamishing hyena. The piece of pork would have been a sufficient mealfor any ordinary man, but it quickly vanished down the throat of thesavage, who licked his fingers, and, with eyes which required no tongueto interpret their meaning, asked for more!

  "Look out!" cried Joe Graddy, tossing him a sea biscuit as one throws aquoit.

  The Indian caught it deftly; crash went his powerful teeth into the hardmass, and in an incredibly short time it was--with the pork!

  The whole party were so highly amused by this, that they "went in," asJeffson said, "for an evening's entertainment." One tossed the poor mana cut of ham, another a slice of pork, a third a mass of bread, and sothey continued to ply him with victuals, determined to test his powersto the uttermost.

  "Try another bit of pork," said Douglas, laughing, as he threw him a cutas large as the first; "you've finished all the cooked meat now."

  The Indian caught it eagerly, and began to devour it as though he hadeaten nothing.

  "He's tightening up like a drum," observed Jeffson, handing him a greasywedge off a raw flitch of bacon.

  "Him vill boost," said Meyer, staring at the Indian and smoking slowly,owing to the strength of his amazement.

  "Jack the Giant Killer was a joke to him," muttered Graddy.

  "A bottomless pit," observed Rance, referring to his stomach.

  The Indian, however, proved that Rance was wrong by suddenly coming to adead halt and dropping the last morsel he was in the act of raising tohis mouth. He then heaved a deep sigh and looked round on the wholeparty with a radiant smile, which was literally sparkling by reason ofthe firelight which glittered on his greasy countenance.

  "What! stuffed full at last?" exclaimed Jeffson, as they all burst intoa fit of laughter.

  "Ay, chock full to the beams," said Joe Graddy; "moreover, hatchesbattened down, topsails shook out, anchor up, and away!"

  This was indeed the case. Having eaten as much as he could hold, thepoor Indian attempted to rise and walk off, but he suddenly fell down,and rolled about groaning and rubbing himself as if in great agony. Thealarmed travellers began to fear that the poor little man hadabsolutely, as Joe said, eaten himself to death. He recovered, however,in a few minutes, rose again with some difficulty, and went off in themidst of a splendid burst of moonlight which appeared to have come outexpressly to light him on his way! His gait was awkward, and he wasobliged to sit down every twenty or thirty yards like a man restingunder a heavy load. When last seen on his diminutive legs he lookedlike a huge bloated spider waddling into the obscurity of the forest.

  "How disgusting!" perhaps exclaims the reader. True, yet not _much_more disgusting than the gormandising which goes on among too manycivilised men, who, besides possessing better knowledge, have gotdyspepsia to inform them that they daily act the part of the Californiansavage, while many learned doctors, we believe, tell them that it is notso much quality as quantity that kills.

  That eventful night did not terminate, however, with the departure ofthe Indian. Another scene was enacted, but, unlike the popular mode oftheatrical procedure, the farce was followed by a tragedy.

  Before lying down to rest, the fire was drawn together, fresh logs wereheaped upon it, and a great blaze was made to scare away the wolves.Frank, Jeffson, and Douglas, then rolled themselves in their blankets,and lay down with their feet towards the fire and their rifles besidethem. The others lighted their pipes for a finishing whiff--a nightcapas Joe styled it.

  They had not sat long thus, making occasional quiet remarks, as fatiguedand sleepy men are wont to do before going to rest, when they werestartled by the sound of heavy footsteps in the woods. Rance, whoseduty it was to keep watch the first part of the night, instantly leapedup and cocked his rifle, while the sleepers awoke, raised themselves ontheir elbows, and looked about somewhat bewildered.

  Before any one had time to act or speak, a man, clad in the flannelshirt, heavy boots, etcetera, of a miner, strode into the circle oflight, with the air of one whose intentions are peaceful.

  "Evening, strangers," he said, looking round and setting the butt of along rifle on the ground; "I've got lost. You'll not object to let merest a bit by your fire, I daresay--hallo!"

  The latter exclamation was uttered when the stranger's eyes fell onBradling, who was gazing at him with the expression of a man who hadseen a ghost. At the same time the stranger threw forward his rifle,and his countenance became unusually pale.

  For two seconds each looked at the other in profound silence, which wasonly broken by the sharp click of the lock as the stranger cocked hispiece.

  Like a flash of lightning Bradling plucked a revolver from his belt,pointed full at the man's breast and fired. He fell without uttering acry, and his rifle exploded as he went down, but the ball passedharmlessly over the heads of the party.

  For a few seconds the travellers stood as if paralysed, and Bradlinghimself remained motionless, gazing sullenly on his victim. Then FrankAllfrey leaped upon him, and grasping him by the throat wrenched thepistol out of his hand.

  "Murderer!" he exclaimed, tightening his hold, as Bradling struggled torelease himself.

  "I'm no murderer," gasped Bradling; "you saw as well as I did that thefellow threatened to shoot me. Besides, he is not dead."

  "That's true," said Joe Graddy, turning towards the fallen man, whomRance and some of the others were examining, and who had showed somesymptoms of returning consciousness; "but his wound is a bad one, and ifyou ain't a murderer yet, pr'aps it won't be long afore ye are one."

  Hearing this Frank flung Bradling violently off, and turned to examinethe wounded man. As he did so the other pointed his pistol deliberatelyat Frank's back, fired, and then sprang into the woods. Before he hadquite disappeared, however, each man who could seize his gun or pistolin time fired a shot after him, but apparently without effect, foralthough they examined the bushes carefully afterwards no marks of bloodcould be found.

  Fortunately the miscreant missed Frank, yet so narrowly that the ballhad touched his hair as it whistled past his ear.

  The wounded man was as carefully tended as was possible in thecircumstances, but neither on that night nor the following day did herecover sufficiently to be able to give any account of himself. He wasleft at the first "ranch" they came to next day, with directions fromFrank that he should be cared for and sent back to Sacramento city assoon as possible. Our hero was unable of course to pay his expenses,but he and all the party contributed a small sum, which, with the goldfound on the stranger's person, was sufficient to satisfy the ranchero,who appeared to be a more amiable man than the rest of his class. Tosecure as far as possible the faithful performance of his duty, Frankearnestly assured him that if he was attentive to the man he would givehim something additional on his return from the diggings.

  "That's very good of you, sir," said the ranchero with a peculiar smile,"but I wouldn't promise too much if I were you. Mayhap you won't beable to fulfil it. All gold-diggers don't make fortunes."

  "Perhaps not," said Frank; "but few of them, I believe, fail to makeenough to pay off their debts."

  "H'm, except those who die," said the ranchero.

  "Well, but _I_ am not going to die," said Frank with a smile.

  "I hope not. All the young and strong ones seem to think as you do whenthey go up; but I have lived here, off
an' on, since the first rush andall I can say is that I have seen a lot more men go up to the diggin'sthan ever I saw come down from 'em; and, of those who did return, morewere poor than rich, while very few of 'em looked either as stout or ascheerful as they did when passing up."

  "Come, shut up your potato-trap, old man, and don't try to take theheart out of us all in that fashion," said Jeffson; "but let's have afeed of the best you have in the house, for we're all alive and kickingas yet, anyhow, and not too poor to pay our way; and, I say, let's havesome home-brewed beer if you can, because we've got a German with us,and a haggis also for our Scotchman."

  "You have forgotten roast-beef for the Englishman," said Frank,laughing.

  "I daresay you won't want sauce," observed the host with an air ofsimplicity; "my meat never seems to want it when there's a Yankee in theroom."

  Saying this the worthy ranchero went to work, and speedily supplied thetravellers with a meal consisting of hard biscuit and rancid pork, witha glass of bitter brandy to wash it down; for which he charged them thesum of eight shillings a head.