CHAPTER NINE.
A NIGHT RIDE IN THE WOODS--THE ENCAMPMENT--LARRY'S FIRST ATTEMPT TO DIGFOR GOLD--AN ALARM--A SUSPICIOUS STRANGER--QUEER CREATURES.
In less than two hours the travellers reached the second ranche, whichwas little better, in appearance or accommodation, than the one they hadleft. Having no funds, they merely halted to water their cattle, andthen pushed forward.
The country became more and more undulating and broken as they advanced,and beyond the second ranche assumed the appearance of a hill country.The valleys were free from trees, though here and there occurred densethickets of underwood, in which Maxton told them that grizzly-bearsloved to dwell--a piece of information that induced most of the party tocarry their rifles in a handy position, and glance suspiciously at everyshadow. Large oaks and bay-trees covered the lower slopes of the hills,while higher up the white oak and fir predominated.
About an hour after midnight the moon began to descend towards thehorizon, and Ned Sinton, who had been unanimously elected commander ofthe little band, called a halt in the neighbourhood of a rivulet, whichflowed round the base of an abrupt cliff whose sides were partiallyclothed with scrubby bushes.
"We shall encamp here for the night, comrades," said he, dismounting;"here is water and food for our nags, a fine piece of greensward tospread our blankets on, and a thick-leaved oak to keep the dew off us.Now, Maxton, you are an old campaigner, let us see how soon you'll havea fire blazing."
"I'll have it ready before you get the camp kettles and pans out,"answered Maxton, fastening his horse to a tree, seizing an axe, andspringing into the woods on the margin of the stream.
"And, Captain Bunting," continued Ned, "do you water the horses andmules: our vaquero will help you. Jones will unpack the provender. TomCollins and I will see to getting supper ready."
"An', may I ax, commodore," said Larry O'Neil, touching his hat, "wot_I'm_ to do?"
"Keep out of everybody's way, and do what you pleases, Larry."
"Which manes, I'm to make myself ginerally useful; so here goes." AndLarry, springing through the bushes, proceeded to fulfil his duties, byseizing a massive log, which Maxton had just cut, and, heaving it on hispowerful shoulder, carried it to the camp.
Each was immediately busied with his respective duties. Bustlingactivity prevailed for the space of a quarter of an hour, the result ofwhich was that, before the moon left them in total darkness, the ruddyglare of a magnificent fire lighted up the scene brilliantly, glancedacross the sun-burnt faces and vivid red shirts of our adventurers, asthey clustered round it, and threw clouds of sparks in among the leavesof the stout old oak that overspread the camp.
"Now, this is what I call uncommon jolly," said Captain Bunting, sittingdown on his saddle before the cheerful blaze, rubbing his hands, andgazing round, with a smile of the utmost benignity on his broad, hairycountenance.
"It is," replied Maxton, with an approving nod. "Do you know, I haveoften thought, captain, that an Indian life must be a very pleasantone--"
"Av coorse it must," interrupted Larry, who at that moment wasluxuriating in the first rich, voluminous puffs of a newly-filledpipe--"av coorse it must, _if_ it's always like this."
"Ay," continued Maxton, "but that's what I was just going to remarkupon--it's _not_ always like this. As a general rule, I have observed,men who are new to backwoods life, live _at first_ in a species ofterrestrial paradise. The novelty and the excitement cause them torevel in all that is enjoyable, and to endure with indifference all thatis disagreeable; sometimes, even, to take pleasure in shewing howstoically they can put up with discomfort. But after a time the noveltyand excitement wear away, and then it is usual to hear the praises ofIndian life spoken of immediately before and immediately after supper.Towards midnight--particularly if it should rain, or mosquitoes benumerous--men change their minds, and begin to dream of home, if theycan sleep, or to wish they were there, if they can't."
"Get out! you horrid philosopher," cried Tom Collin as he gazedwistfully into the iron pot, whose savoury contents, (i.e. pork, flour,and beans), he was engaged in stirring. "Don't try to dash the cup ofromance from our lips ere we have tasted it. Believe me, comrades, ourfriend Maxton is a humbug. I am an old stager myself; have lived thelife of an Indian for months and months together, and I declare to you,I'm as jolly and enthusiastic _now_ as ever I was."
"That may be quite true," observed Maxton, "seeing that it is possibleyou may have never been jolly or enthusiastic at all; but even takingyour words as you mean them to be understood, they only tend to enforcewhat I have said, for, you know, the exception proves the rule."
"Bah! you sophisticator," ejaculated Tom, again inspecting the contentsof the pot.
"Och, let him spake, an' be aisy," remarked Larry, with a look ofextreme satisfaction on his countenance; "we're in the navelty an'excitement stage o' life just now, an faix we'll kape it up as long aswe can. Hand me a cinder, Bill Jones, an' don't look as if ye wosmeditatin' wot to say, for ye know that ye can't say nothin'."
Bill took no further notice of this remark than to lift a glowing pieceof charcoal from the fire with his fingers, as deliberately as if theywere made of iron, and hand it to O'Neil, who received it in the samecool manner, and relighted his pipe therewith.
"It strikes me we shall require all our jollity and enthusiasm to keepup our spirits, if we don't reach the diggings to-morrow," said NedSinton, as he busied himself in polishing the blade of a superbhunting-knife, which had been presented to him by a few college friendsat parting; "you all know that our funds are exhausted, and it's awkwardto arrive at a ranche without a dollar to pay for a meal--still moreawkward to be compelled to encamp beside a ranche and unpack our ownprovisions, especially if it should chance to be a wet night. Do youthink we shall manage to reach the diggings to-morrow, Maxton?"
"I am certain of it. Twelve miles will bring us to Little Creek, as itis called, where we can begin to take initiative lessons ingold-washing. In fact, the ground we stand on, I have not a doubt, hasmuch gold in it. But we have not the means of washing it yet."
Larry O'Neil caught his breath on hearing this statement. "D'ye mane totell me," he said, slowly and with emphasis, "that I'm maybe sittin' atthis minute on the top o' rale goold?"
"You may be," answered Maxton, laughing.
"W'en ye don't know," remarked Bill Jones, sententiously, removing thepipe from his lips, and looking fixedly at his messmate, "W'en ye don'tknow _wot's_ under ye, nor the coorse o' nature, w'ich is always more orless a-doin' things oncommon an' out o' the way, ye shouldn't ought tospeckilate on wot ye know nothin' about, until ye find out how's herhead, an' w'ich way the land lies. Them's my sentiments."
"Halloo! Larry," cried the captain and Tom Collins simultaneously,"look out for the kettle. It'll boil over."
Larry's feelings had been deeply stirred at that moment, so that theunion of the sudden shout, with the profundity of Bill's remark, had theeffect of causing him to clutch at the tea-kettle with such haste thathe upset it into the fire.
"Oh! bad luck to ye!"
"Clumsy fellow!" ejaculated Ned. "Off with you to the creek, and refillit."
Larry obeyed promptly, but the mischance, after all, was trifling, forthe fire was fierce enough to have boiled a twenty-gallon caldron in aquarter of an hour. Besides, the contents of the iron pot had to bediscussed before the tea was wanted. In a few minutes supper was ready,and all were about to begin, when it was discovered that O'Neil wasmissing.
"Ho! Larry, come to supper!" shouted one.
"Hi! where are you?" cried another.
But there was no reply, until the captain put both hands to his mouth,and gave utterance to the nautical halloo with which, in days gone by,he was wont to hail the look-out at the main-top.
"Ay, ay, comin' sir-r," floated back on the night wind; and, shortlyafterwards, the Irishman stumbled into camp with his hands, his face,and his clothes plentifully bedaubed with mud.
"Why, what have yo
u been about?" inquired Ned.
"Diggin' for goold, sure. I've made a hole in the banks o' the creekwith me two hands that ye might bury a young buffalo in, an' sorrow abit o' goold have I got for me pains."
A general laugh greeted the enthusiastic digger, as he wiped his handsand sat down to supper.
"Musha! av I didn't git goold, I've dug up a mortial big appetite,anyhow. Hand me the wooden spoon, Mister Collins; it's more the gaugeo' me pratie-trap than the pewter wans. D'ye know, comrades, I'm a'mostsure I seed an Injun in the bush. Av it wasn't, it was a ghost."
"What like was he?"
"Look there, and judge for yourselves," cried O'Neil, jumping suddenlyto his feet, and pointing towards the wood, where a solitary figure wasseen dimly against the dark background.
Every man leaped up and seized his weapons.
"Who goes there?" shouted Ned, advancing towards the edge of the circleof light.
"A friend," was the reply, in English.
Relieved to find that he was not the advance-guard of a band of savages,Ned invited the stranger to approach, and immediately he stepped withinthe sacred circle of the camp-fire's light. This unexpected addition tothe party was by no means a pleasant one. His complexion wasexceedingly dark, and he wore a jet-black beard. In manners he wascoarse and repulsive--one of those forbidding men who seem to be bornfor the purpose of doing evil, in whatever position of life or part ofthe world they happen to be placed. The rude garments of the minerharmonised with the rugged expression of his bearded and bronzed face,and the harsh voice in which he addressed the party correspondedtherewith.
"I s'pose ye'll not object to let me rest by yer fire, strangers?" hesaid, advancing and seating himself without waiting for a reply.
"You're welcome," answered Ned, curtly, for he neither liked the mannersnor the aspect of the man.
"Ye might ha' wished us the top o' the mornin', I think," suggestedLarry. "Here, try an' soften yer sperrits with a sup," he added,pushing a pewter plate of soup and a spoon towards him.
The man made no reply, but ate ravenously, as if he had been starving.When he had finished, he lighted his pipe, and drew his knees up to hischin as he warmed his hands before the blaze. Little information of anykind could be drawn out of this taciturn wanderer. To Ned's questions,he replied that he had been at the diggings on the Yuba River, which hedescribed as being rich; that he had made enough gold to satisfy all hiswants, and was on his way to San Francisco, where he intended to shipfor England. His name, he said, was Smith.
He carried a short rifle, with a peculiarly large bore, and a heavyhunting-knife, the point of which was broken off. This last Bill Jonesobserved, as the man laid it down, after cutting up some tobacco,preparatory to refilling his pipe.
"A good knife! How did ye break it?" inquired Bill, taking up theweapon and examining it.
"Never you mind," answered the man, snatching it rudely from him, andsheathing it.
At this O'Neil regarded him with an angry expression.
"Faix, av ye wasn't livin', so to spake, in me own house, I'd make yechange yer tone."
"I don't mean no offence," said Smith, endeavouring to speak a littleless gruffly. "The fact is, gents, I'm out o' sorts, 'cos I lost agrizzly bar in the hills an hour or two agone. I shot him dead, as Ithought, and went up and drove my knife into his side, but it struck arib and broke the pint, as ye see; and a'most afore I could get up atree, he wos close up behind me. He went away after a while, and so Igot clear off."
To the immense satisfaction of every one, this disagreeable guest aroseafter finishing his pipe, knocked the ashes out, shouldered his rifle,and, bidding his entertainers good-night, re-entered the forest, anddisappeared.
"You're well away," remarked Tom Collins, looking after him; "I couldn'thave slept comfortably with such a fellow in camp. Now, then, I'm goingto turn in."
"So am I," said Maxton, rolling himself in a blanket, and pillowing hishead on a saddle, without more ado.
In a few minutes the camp was as silent as it had previously been noisy.Captain Bunting's plethoric breathing alone told that human beingsrested on that wild spot; and this, somewhat incongruously united withthe tinkling of the rivulet hard by, and the howling of coyotes,constituted their lullaby. During the night the most of the travellerswere awakened once or twice by a strange and very peculiar sensation,which led them to fancy the earth on which they reposed was possessed oflife. The lazy members of the party lay still, and dreamily wondereduntil they fell asleep; those who were more active leaped up, and,lifting their blankets, gazed intently at the sward, which darknessprevented them from seeing, and felt it over with their hands, but nocause for the unwonted motion could be discovered, until the light ofdawn revealed the fact that they had made their beds directly above theholes of a colony, of ground-squirrels, which little creatures, pokingupwards with their noses in vain attempts to gain the upper world, hadproduced the curious sensations referred to.
Rough travelling, however, defies almost all disadvantages in the way ofrest. Tired and healthy men will sleep in nearly any position, and atany hour, despite all interruptions, so that when our friends rose atdaybreak to resume their journey, they were well refreshed and eager topush on.
The Golden Dream: Adventures in the Far West Page 9