The Silver Canyon

by Fenn, George Manville

  From where they stood the river looked enchanting, for while all up in the plain was arid and grey, and the trees and shrubs that grew there seemed parched and dry, and of a sickly green, all below was of the richest verdant hues, and lovely groves of woodland were interspersed with soft patches of waving grass that flourished where stormy winds never reached, and moisture and heat were abundant.

  Still this paradise-like river was not without signs of trouble visiting it at times, and these remained in huge up-torn trees, dead branches, and jagged rocks, splintered and riven, that dotted the patches of plain from the shores of the river to the perpendicular walls of the canyon.

  Bart needed no telling that these were the traces of floods, when, instead of the bright silver rushing river, the waters came down from the mountains hundreds of miles to the north, and the great canyon was filled to its walls with a huge seething yellow flow, and in imagination he thought of what the smiling emerald valley would be after such a visitation.

  But he had little time for thought, the chief making signs to the Doctor to follow him, first laying down his rifle and signing to the Doctor to do the same.

  Dr Lascelles hesitated for a moment, and then did as the chief wished, when the Beaver went on for a few yards to where the shelf of rock seemed to end, and there was nothing but a sheer fall of a thousand feet down to the stones and herbage at the bottom of the canyon, while above towered up the mountain which seemed like a Titanic bastion round which the river curved.

  Without a moment’s hesitation the chief turned his face to them, lowered himself over the edge of the shelf down and down till only his hands remained visible. Then he drew himself up till his face was above the rock, and made a sign to the Doctor to come on.

  “I dare not go, Bart,” said the Doctor, whose face was covered with dew. “Would you be afraid to follow him, my boy?”

  “I should be afraid, sir,” replied Bart laying down his rifle, “but I’ll go.”

  “No, no, I will not be such a coward,” cried the Doctor; and going boldly to the edge, he refrained from looking over, but turned and lowered himself down, passing out of Bart’s sight; and when the latter crept to the edge and looked down, he could see a narrow ledge below with climbing plants and luxuriant shrubs, but no sight of the Doctor or his guide.

  Bart remained motionless—horror-stricken as the thought came upon him that they might have slipped and gone headlong into the chasm below; but on glancing back he saw one of the Indians who was of the party smiling, and evidently quite satisfied that nothing was wrong.

  This being so, Bart remained gazing down into the canyon, listening intently, and wondering whither the pair could have gone.

  It was a most wonderful sight to look down at that lovely silver river that flashed and sparkled and danced in the sunshine. In places where there were deep, calm pools it looked intensely blue, as it reflected the pure sky, while other portions seemed one gorgeous, dazzling damascene of molten metal, upon which Bart could hardly gaze.

  Then there was the wonderful variety of the tints that adorned the shrubs and creepers that were growing luxuriantly wherever they could obtain a hold.

  There were moments when Bart fancied that he could see the salmon plash in the river, but he could make out the birds in the depths below as they floated and skimmed about from shore to shore, and over the tops of the trees that looked like shrubs from where he crouched.

  Just then, as he was forgetting the absence of the Doctor in an intense desire to explore the wonders of the canyon, to shoot in the patches of forest, to fish in the river, and find he knew not what in those wondrous solitudes where man had probably never yet trod, he heard a call, and, brought back to himself from his visionary expedition, he shouted a reply.

  “The Beaver’s coming to you, Bart. Lower yourself down, my boy, and come.”

  These—the Doctor’s words—sounded close at hand, but the speaker was invisible.

  “All right; I’ll come,” cried Bart; and as he spoke a feeling of shrinking came over him, and he felt ready to draw back. But calling upon himself, he went closer to the edge, trying to look under, and the next moment there was the head of the Beaver just below, gazing up at him with a half-mocking smile upon his face.

  “You think I’m afraid,” said Bart, looking down at him, “but I can’t help that. I’ll come all the same;” and swiftly turning, he lowered himself down till his body was hanging as it were in space, and only his chest and elbows were on the shelf.

  Then for a moment he seemed to hesitate, but he mastered the shrinking directly after, and lowered himself more and more till he hung at the extremity of his hands, vainly seeking for a foothold.

  “Are you there, Beaver?” he shouted, and he felt his waist seized and his sides pinioned by two strong hands, his own parted company from the shelf, and he seemed to fall a terrible distance, but it was only a couple of feet, and he found himself standing upon the solid rock, with the shelf jutting out above his head, and plenty of room to peer about amongst the clustering bushes that had here made themselves a home.

  The chief smiled at his startled look, and pointing to the left, Bart glanced sidewise at where the precipice went down, and then walked onward cautiously along a rugged shelf not much unlike the one from which he had descended, save that it was densely covered with shrubby growth.

  This shelf suddenly ended in a rift like a huge crevice in the face of the mountain, but there was a broad crack before it, and this it was necessary to leap before entering the rift.

  Bart stopped short, gazing down into what seemed an awful abyss, but the Beaver passed him lightly, as if there were no danger whatever, and lightly leaped across to some rough pieces of rock.

  The distance was nothing, but the depths below made it seem an awful leap, till Bart felt that the Doctor must have gone over it before him, and without further hesitation he bounded across and stood beside the chief, who led the way farther into the rift to where, some fifty feet from the entrance, the Doctor was standing, hammer in hand, gazing intently at the newly chipped rock and the fragments that lay around.

  “At last, Bart!” he cried joyously.

  “What! Is it a vein?” said Bart, eagerly.

  “A vein, boy? It is a mountain of silver—a valley of silver. Here are great threads of the precious metal, and masses of ore as well. It seems as if it ran right down the sides of the canyon, and from what the Indian appears to know, it does, Bart, I never expected to make such a find as this.”

  As he spoke, he handed pieces of the rock to Bart, who found that in some there were angular pieces of what seemed to be native silver, while others were full of threads and veins, or appeared as pieces of dull metalliferous stone.

  “It is a huge fortune—wealth untold, Bart,” said the Doctor.

  “Is it, sir?” said Bart coolly, for he could not feel the same rapture as the Doctor.

  “Is it, boy? Yes! enormous wealth.”

  “But how are we to carry it away, sir?” asked Bart dryly.

  “Carry it away! Why, do you not understand that this mine will want working, and that we must have a large number of men here? But no; you cannot conceive the greatness of this find.”

  As he spoke, the Doctor hurried to the mouth of the rift, and then cautiously lowered himself into the chasm, over which Bart had leaped, clinging to the stout stems of the various shrubs.

  For a few moments Bart hesitated. Then he followed till they were both quite a hundred feet below the shelf, and the part of the rift they had first entered, and were able to creep right out till they were level with the side of the canyon, and able to look down to the river.

  But the Doctor did not care to look down upon the river, for tearing away some of the thick growth from the rock, he cast it behind him, so that it fell far out into the canyon. Then two or three pieces of rock followed, and somehow Bart felt more interested in their fall than in the search for silver, listening in the hope of hearing them crash down deep in the gr
eat stream.

  “Yes; as I thought,” cried the Doctor, excitedly, “the vein or mass runs right down the side of this vast canyon, Bart—the Silver Canyon, we must call it. But come, let’s get back. I must tell my child. Such a discovery was never made before. Discovery, do I say! Why, these poor ignorant Indians must have known of it for years, perhaps for generations, and beyond working up a few pieces to make themselves rings for their horses’ lariats, or to secure their saddles, they have left is as it is.”

  As he spoke, he was already climbing up towards the shelf, his excitement in his tremendous find making him forget the risks he kept running, for to one in cool blood, the face of the rock, the insecurity of the shrubs to which he clung, and the many times that silver-veined stones gave way beneath his feet, were very terrible, and Bart drew his breath hard, climbing slowly after his companion till at last they stood once more upon the shelf.

  And all this time the Beaver was looking calmly on, following each movement, helping his white friends to climb where it was necessary, and seeming half amused at the Doctor’s intense eagerness. In fact, Bart fancied that at times he looked rather contemptuously on at the Doctor’s delight with what he found, for it was so much whitey-grey metallic stone to him, and as nothing beside the possession of a fine swift pony, or an ample supply of powder and lead.

  * * *

  Chapter Seventeen.

  Untrustworthy Sentinels.

  They soon reached the little camp, where the Doctor eagerly communicated his news to his child, and then taking Joses aside he repeated it to him.

  “Well, that’s right, master. I’m glad, of course; and I hope it’ll make you rich, for you want it bad enough after so many years of loss with your cattle.”

  “It has made me rich—I am rich, Joses!” cried the Doctor, excitedly.

  “That’s good, master,” said the man, coolly. “And now what’s going to be done? Are we to carry the mountain back to the old ranche?”

  The Doctor frowned.

  “We shall have to return at once, Joses, to organise a regular mining party. We must have plenty of well-armed men, and tools, and machinery to work this great find. We must go back at once.”

  “Now, master?”

  “No, no, perhaps not for a week, my man,” said the Doctor, whose nervous excitement seemed to increase. “I must thoroughly investigate the extent of the silver deposit, descend into the canyon, and ascend the mountain. Then we must settle where our new town is to be.”

  “Ah, we’re going to have a new town, are we, master?”

  “To be sure! Of course! How could the mining adventure be carried on without?”

  Joses shook his head.

  “P’r’aps we shall stay here a week then, master?” he said at last.

  “Yes; perhaps a fortnight.”

  “Then if you don’t mind, master, I think we’ll move camp to that little patch of rocks close by that old blasted tree that stands up like a post. I’ve been thinking it will be a better place; and if you’ll give the word, I’ll put the little keg of powder in a hole somewhere. I don’t think it’s quite right to have it so near our fire every day.”

  “Do what you think best, Joses,” said the Doctor, eagerly. “Yes; I should bury the powder under the rocks somewhere, so that we can easily get it again. But why do you want to move the camp?”

  “Because that’s a better place, with plenty of rocks for cover if the Injuns should come and look us up.”

  “Let us change, then,” said the Doctor, abstractedly; and that afternoon they shifted to the cluster of rocks near the blasted tree, close under the shelter of the tall wall-like mountain-side. Rocks were cleared from a centre and piled round; the waggon was well secured; a good place found for the horses; and lastly, Joses lit his cigarette, and then took the keg of gunpowder, carried it to a convenient spot near the withered tree, and buried it beneath some loose stones.

  The Beaver smiled at the preparations, and displayed his knowledge of English after a short conversation with the interpreter by exclaiming:

  “Good—good—good—very good!”

  A hasty meal was snatched, and then the Doctor went off again alone, while the Beaver signed to Bart to follow him, and then took him past the narrow opening that led to the way up the mountain, and showed him a second opening, through which they passed, to find within a good open cavernous hollow at the foot of the mountain wall, shut in by huge masses of rock.

  “Why, our horses would be safe here, even if we were attacked,” exclaimed Bart.

  “Horses,” said the Beaver, nodding. “Yes; horses.”

  There was no mistaking the value of such a place, for there was secure shelter for at least a hundred horses, and the entrance properly secured—an entrance so narrow that there was only room for one animal to pass through—storm or attack from the hostile Indians could have been set at defiance.

  “Supposing a town to be built here somewhere up the mountain, this great enclosure would be invaluable,” said Bart, and, hurrying back, he fetched Joses to inspect the place.

  “Ah, that’s not bad,” said the rough frontier man. “Why, Master Bart, what a cattle corral that would make! Block the mouth up well, they’d be clever Injuns who got anything away. Let’s put the horses in here at once.”

  “Do you think it is necessary, Joses?” said Bart.

  “It’s always necessary to be safe out in the plain, my lad,” replied Joses. “How do we know that the Injuns won’t come to-night to look after the men they’ve lost? Same time, how do we know they will? All the same, though, you can never be too safe. Let’s get the horses inside, my lad, as we have such a place, and I half wish now we’d gone up the mountain somewhere to make our camp. You never know when danger may come.”

  “Horses in there,” said Bart to the Beaver, and he pointed to the entrance.

  The chief nodded, and seemed to have understood them all along by their looks and ways, so that when the horses belonging to the English party were driven in that evening he had those of his own followers driven in as well, and it was settled that Joses was to be the watchman that night.

  It was quite sundown when the Doctor returned, this time with Maude, whom he had taken to be an eye-witness of his good fortune. Bart went to meet them, and that glorious, glowing evening they sat in their little camp, revelling in the soft pure air, which seemed full of exhilaration, and the lad could not help recalling afterwards what a thoroughly satisfied, happy look there was in his guardian’s countenance as he sat there reckoning up the value of his grand discovery, and making his plans for the future.

  Then came a very unpleasant episode, one which Bart hid from the Doctor, for he would not trouble him with bad news upon a night like that; but all the same it caused the lad intense annoyance, and he went off to where Joses was smoking his cigárito and staring at the stars.

  “Tipsy! drunk!” he exclaimed. “What! Sam and Juan? Where could they get the stuff?”

  “They must have crept under the waggon, and broken a hole through, for the brandy lay there treasured up in case of illness.”

  “I’ll thrash ’em both till they can’t crawl!” cried Joses, wrathfully. “I didn’t think it of them. It’s no good though to do it to-night when they can’t understand. Let them sleep it off to-night, my boy, and to-morrow morning we’ll show the Beaver and his men what we do to thieves who steal liquor to get drunk. I wouldn’t have thought it of them.”

  “What shall you do to them, Joses?” said Bart.

  “Tie them up to that old post of a tree, my boy, and give them a taste of horse-hair lariat on the bare back. That’s what I’ll do to them. They’re under me, they are, and I’m answerable to the master. But there, don’t say no more; it makes me mad, Master Bart. Go back now, and let them sleep it out. I’m glad I moved that powder.”

  “So am I, Joses,” said Bart; and after a few more, words he returned to the little camp, to find the two offenders fast asleep.

  Bart was very w
eary when he lay down, after glancing round to see that all proper precautions had been taken; and it seemed to him that he could not have been asleep five minutes when he felt a hand laid upon his mouth, and another grasp his shoulder, while on looking up, there, between him and the star-encrusted sky, was a dark Indian face.

  For a moment he thought of resistance. The next he had seen whose was the face, and obeying a sign to be silent, he listened while the Beaver bent lower, and said in good English, “Enemy. Indians coming.”

  Bart rose on the instant, and roused the Doctor, who immediately awakened Maude, and obeying the signs of the Indian, they followed him into the shadow of the mountain, for the Beaver shook his head fiercely at the idea of attempting to defend the little camp.

  It all took place in a few hurried moments, and almost before they were half-way to their goal there was a fierce yell, the rush of trampling horses, and a dark shadowy body was seen to swoop down upon the camp. While before, in his excitement, Bart could realise his position, he found himself with the Doctor and Maude beyond the narrow entrance, and on the slope that seemed to lead up into the mountains.

  As soon as Maude was in safety, Bart and the Doctor returned to the entrance, to find it well guarded by the Indians; and if the place were discovered or known to the enemy, it was very plain that they could be easily kept at bay if anything like a determined defence were made, and there was no fear of that.

  Then came a sort of muster or examination of their little force, which, to Bart’s agony, resulted in the discovery that while all the Indians were present, and Harry was by their side, Joses, Sam, and Juan were away.

  In his excitement, Bart did not realise why this was. Now he recalled that when he lay down to sleep the two offenders had been snoring stertorously, and it was evident that they were helplessly stupefied when the Indians came, and were taken.