CHAPTER XI.
THE POCKET GULCH MINES--INVADERS OF THEM.
We see fit to change the scene once more back to the pocket gulch--thehome of the sweet, sad-faced Anita. The date is one month later--onelong, eventful month since Justin McKenzie shot down Ned Harris underthe noonday sun, a short distance above Deadwood.
Returning to the Flower Pocket by the route to the rugged transversegulch, and thence through the gaping fissure, we find before us ascene--not of slumbering beauty, but of active industry and labor,such as was not here when we last looked into the flower-strewnparadise of the Hills.
The flowers are for the most part still intact, though occasionallyyou will come across a spot where the hand of man hath blighted theirgrowth.
Where stood the little vine-wreathed cabin now may be seen a largerand more commodious log structure, which is but a continuation of theoriginal.
A busy scene greets our gaze all around. Men are hurrying here andthere through the valley--men not of the pale-face race, but of thered race; men, clad only to the waist, with remarkable musculardevelopments, and fleetness of foot.
Over the little creek which dashes far adown from pine-dressedmountain peaks, and trails its shining waters through the floweringland, is built another structure--of logs, strongly and carefullyerected, and thatched by a master hand with bark and grass. From theroof projects a small smoke-stack, from which emanates a steady cloudof smoke, curling lazily upward toward heaven's blue vault, and insideis heard the grinding, crushing rumble of ponderous machinery, and werightly conjecture that it is a crusher in full operation. Across fromthe northern side of the gulch comes a steady string of mules in line,each pulling behind him a jack-sled (or, what is better known to thegeneral reader as a stone-boat) heavily laden with huge quartz rocks.These are dumped in front of one of the large doorways of the crusher,and the "empties" return mechanically and disappear within a gapingfissure in the very mountain side--a sort of tunnel, which the hand ofman, aided by that great and stronger arm--powder--has burrowed andblasted out.
All this is under the Immediate management of the swarthy-skinnedred-men, whose faces declare them to be a remnant of the once greatUte tribe--now utilized to a better occupation than in the dark andbloody days of the past.
Near the crusher building is a large, stoutly-constructed windlass,worked by mule power, and every few moments there comes up to thesurface from the depths of a shaft, a bucketful of rock and sand,which is dumped into a push-car, and from thence transferred to theline of sluice-boxes in the stream, where more half-clothed Utes arebusily engaged in sifting golden particles from the rich sand.
What a transformation is all this since we left the Flower Pocket alittle over a month ago! Now, everywhere within those majesticmountain-locked walls is bustle and excitement; then, the valley wassleeping away the calm, perfume-laden autumnal days, unconscious ofthe mines of wealth lying nestling in its bosom, and content and happyin its quietude and the adornments of nature's beauties.
Now, shouts, ringing halloos, angry curses at the obstinate mules, therumbling of ponderous machinery, the clink of picks and reports offrequent blasts, the deadened sound of escaping steam, the barking ofdogs, the whining of horses--all these sounds are now to be heard.
Then, the valley was peacefully at rest; the birds chimed in theirexquisite music to the AEolian harp-like music of the breeze throughthe branches of the mountain pines; the waters pouring adown from thestupendous peaks created an everlasting song of love and constancy;bees and humming-birds drank delicious draughts from the blushing lipsof a million nodding flowers; the sun was more hazy anddrowsy-looking; everything had an appearance of ethereal peace andhappiness.
But, like a drama on the stage, a grand transformation had takenplace; a beautiful dream had been changed into stern reality; quietudeand slumber had fled at the bold approach of bustling industry andlife. And all this transformation is due to whom?
The noonday sun shone down on all the busy scene with a glance ofwarmth and affection, and particularly did its rays center about twomen, who, standing on the southern side of the valley, up in among therugged foothills, were watching the living panorama with the keenestinterest.
They were Harry Redburn and the queer old hump-backed, bow-leggedlittle locator, "General" Walsingham Nix.
Redburn was now looking nearly as rough, unkempt and grizzled as anyveteran miner, and for a bet, he actually had not waxed the ends ofhis fine mustache for over a week. But there was more of a healthyglow upon his face, a robustness about his form, and a light ofsatisfaction in his eye which told that the rough miner's life agreedwith him exceedingly well.
The old "General" was all dirt, life and animation, and as full of hiseccentricities as ever. He was a character seldom met with--ever fullof a quaint humor and sociability, but never known to get mad, nomatter how great the provocation might be.
His chance strike upon the spot where lay the gold of Flower Pocketimbedded--if it could be called a chance, considering his dream--wasthe prelude to the opening up of one of the richest mining districtssouth of Deadwood.
We left them after Harry had driven a stake to mark the place whichthe somnambulist had pointed out as indicating the concealed mine.
On the succeeding day the two men set to work, and dug long anddesperately to uncover the treasure, and after three days of incessanttoil they were rewarded with success. A rich vein of gold, or, rather,a deposit of the valuable metal was found, it being formed in a deep,natural pocket and mixed alternately with sand and rock.
During the remaining four days of that week the two lucky miners tookout enough gold to evidence their supposition that they had struck oneof the richest fields in all the Black Hills country. Indeed, itseemed that there was no end to the depth of sand in the shaft, and aslong as the sand held out the gold was likely to.
When, just in the flush of their early triumph, the old humpback wasvisited by another somnambulistic fit, and this time he discoveredgold down in the northern mountain side, and prophesied that thequartz rock which could be mined therefrom would more than repay thecost and trouble of opening up the vein and of transporting machineryto the gulch.
We need not go into detail of what followed; suffice it to say thatimmediate arrangements were made and executed toward developing thisas yet unknown territory.
While Redburn set to work with two Ute Indians (transported to thegulch from Deadwood, under oath of secrecy by the "General") to blastinto the mountain-side, and get at the gold-bearing quartz, the oldlocater in person set out for Cheyenne on the secret mission ofprocuring a portable crusher, boiler and engine, and such otherimplements as would be needed, and getting them safely into the gulchunknown to the roving population of the Hills country. And mostwonderful to relate, he succeeded.
Two weeks after his departure, he returned with the machinery and twoscore of Ute Indians, whom he had sworn into his service, for, as aUte rarely breaks his word, they were likely to prove valuableaccessories to the plans of our two friends. Redburn had in themeantime blasted in until he came upon the quartz rock. Here he had tostop until the arrival of the machinery. He however busied himself inenlarging the cabin and building a curb to the shaft, which occupiedhis time until at last the "General" and his army returned.[D]
Now, we see these two successful men standing and gazing at the resultof their joint labors, each financially happy; each growing rich asthe day rolls away.
The miners are in a prosperous condition, and everything moves offwith that ease and order that speaks of shrewd management and constantattention to business.
The gold taken from the shaft is much finer than that extracted fromthe quartz.
The quartz yielded about eighteen dollars to the ton, which the"General" declared to be as well as "a feller c'u'd expect,considerin' things, more or less!"
Therefore, it will be seen by those who have any knowledge whatever ofgold mining that, after paying off the expenses, our friends were notdoing so badly, after
all.
"Yes, yes!" the "General" was remarking, as he gazed at the string ofmules that alternately issued from and re-entered the fissure on theopposite side of the valley; "yes, yes, boyee, things ar' workin' as Ilike ter see 'em at last. The shaft'll more'n pay expenses if sheholds her head 'bove water, as I opine she will, an' w'at ar' squeezedout uv the quartz ar' cleer 'intment fer us."
"True; the shaft is more than paying off the hands," replied Redburn,seating himself upon a bowlder, and staring vacantly at the densecolumn of smoke ejected from the smoke-stack in the roof of thecrusher building.
"I was looking up accounts last evening, and after deducting what youpaid for the machinery, and what wages are due the Utes, we have abouta thousand dollars clear of all, to be divided between three of us."
"Exactly. Now, that's w'at I call fair to middling. Of course thar'llbe more or less expense, heerafter, but et'll be a consider'ble lesso' more than more o' less. Another munth'll tell a larger finanshelltale, I opine"
"Right again, unless something happens more than we think for now. Ifwe get through another month, however, without being nosed out, why wemay consider ourselves all-fired lucky."
"Jes' so! Jes' so! but we'll hev ter take our chances. One natteraladvantage, we kin shute 'em as fast as they come--"
"Ho!" Redburn interrupted, suddenly, leaping to his feet; "they saythe devil's couriers are ever around when you are talking of them.Look! invaders already."
He pointed toward the east, where the passage led out of the valleyinto the gorge beyond.
Out of this passage two persons on horseback had just issued, and nowthey came to a halt, evidently surprised at the scene which lay spreadout before them.
No sooner did the "General" clap his eyes on the pair than he uttereda cry of astonishment, mingled with joy.
"It's thet scarlet chap, Fearless Frank!" he announced, hopping aboutlike a pig on a hot griddle "w'at I war tellin' ye about; the samecuss w'at desarted Charity Joe's train, ter look fer sum critter w'atwar screechin' fer help. I went wi' the lad fer a ways, but my jackassharpened to be more or less indispositioned--consider'bly more o' lessthan less o' more--an' so I made up my mind not ter continny hisroute. Ther last I see'd o' the lad he disappeared over sum kind o' aprecypice, an' calkylatin' as how he war done fer, I rej'ined CharityJoseph, ar' kim on."
"He has a female in his company!" said Redburn, watching the new-comerkeenly.
"Yas, peers to me he has, an' et's more or less likely that et's thesame critter he went to resky w'en he left Charity Joe's train!"
"What about him? We do not want him here; to let him return toDeadwood after what he has seen would be certain death to ourinterests."
"Yas, thar's more or less truth in them words o' yours,b'yee--consider'bly more o' less than less o' more. He ken't go backnow, nohow we kin fix et. He's a right peart sort o' a kid, an' Ithink ef we was ter guv him a job, or talk reeson'ble ter him, thethe'd consent to do the squar' thing by us."
Redburn frowned.
"He'll have to remain for a certain time, whether he wants to or not,"he muttered, more savage than usual. It looked to him as if this wasto be the signal of a general invasion. "Come! let's go and see whatwe can do."
They left the foothills, clambered down into the valley and workedtheir way toward where Fearless Frank and his companion sat inwaiting.
As they did so, headed by a figure in black, who wore a mask as didall the rest, a band of horsemen rode out of the fissure into thevalley. One glance and we recognize Deadwood Dick, Prince of the Road,and his band of road-agents!
Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road; or, The Black Rider of the Black Hills Page 11