CHAPTER XVI
THE FIRST GOLD
We arose before daylight, picketed our horses, left our dishes unwashed,and hurried down to the diggings just at sun-up carrying our gold pansor "washbowls," and our extra tools. The bar was as yet deserted. We setto work with a will, taking turns with the pickaxe and the two shovels.I must confess that our speed slowed down considerably after the firstwild burst, but we kept at it steadily. It was hard work, and there isno denying it, just the sort of plain hard work the day labourer doeswhen he digs sewer trenches in the city streets. Only worse, perhaps,owing to the nature of the soil. It has struck me since that those fewyears of hard labour in the diggings, from '49 to '53 or '54, saw moreactual manual toil accomplished than was ever before performed in thesame time by the same number of men. The discouragement of thosereturning we now understood. They had expected to take the gold withouttoil; and were dismayed at the labour it had required. At any rate, wethought we were doing our share that morning, especially after the suncame up. We wielded our implements manfully, piled our debris to oneside, and gradually achieved a sort of crumbling uncertain excavationreluctant to stay emptied.
About an hour after our arrival the other miners began to appear,smoking their pipes. They stretched themselves lazily, spat upon theirhands, and set to. Our friend of the day before nodded at us cheerfully,and hopped down into his hole.
We removed what seemed to us tons of rock. About noon, just as we werethinking rather dispiritedly of knocking off work for a lunch--which inour early morning eagerness we had forgotten to bring--Johnny turned upa shovelful whose lower third consisted of the pulverized bluish clay.We promptly forgot both lunch and our own weariness.
"Hey!" shouted our friend, scrambling from his own claim. "Easy with therocks! What are you conducting here? a volcano?" He peered down at us."Pay dirt, hey? Well, take it easy; it won't run away!"
Take it easy! As well ask us to quit entirely! We tore at the rubble,which aggravatingly and obstinately cascaded down upon us from thesides; we scraped eagerly for more of that blue clay; at last we hadfilled our three pans with a rather mixed lot of the dirt, and raced tothe river. Johnny fell over a boulder and scattered his panful far andwide. His manner of scuttling back to the hole after more reminded meirresistibly of the way a contestant in a candle race hurries back tothe starting point to get his candle relighted.
We panned that dirt clumsily and hastily enough; and undoubtedly lostmuch valuable sand overside; but we ended each with a string of colour.We crowded together comparing our "pans." Then we went crazy. I supposewe had about a quarter of a dollar's worth of gold between us, but thatwas not the point. The long journey with all its hardships andadventures, the toil, the uncertainty, the hopes, the disappointmentsand reactions had at last their visible tangible conclusion. The tinyflecks of gold were a symbol. We yapped aloud, we kicked up our heels,we shook hands, we finally joined hands and danced around and around.
From all sides the miners came running up, dropping their tools with aclatter. We were assailed by a chorus of eager cries.
"What is it, boys?" "A strike?" "Whereabouts is your claim?" "Is it'flour' or 'flake'?" "Let's see!"
They crowded around in a dense mob, and those nearest jostled to get aglimpse of our pans. Suddenly sobered by this interest in our doings, wewould have edged away could we have got hold of our implements.
"Wall, I'll be durned!" snorted a tall state of Maine man in disgust."This ain't no strike! This is an insane asylum."
The news slowly penetrated the crowd. A roar of laughter went up. Mostof the men were hugely amused; but some few were so disgusted at havingbeen fooled that they were almost inclined to take it as a personalaffront that we had not made the expected "strike."
"You'd think they was a bunch of confounded Keskydees," growled one ofthem.
The miners slowly dispersed, returning to their own diggings. Somewhatred-faced, and very silent, we gathered up our pans and slunk back tothe claim. Our neighbour stuck his head out of his hole. He alone hadnot joined the stampede in our direction.
"How do you like being popular heroes?" he grinned.
Johnny made as though to shy a rock at him, whereupon he ducked belowground.
However, our spirits soon recovered. We dumped the black sand into alittle sack we had brought for the purpose. It made quite an appreciablebulge in that sack. We did not stop to realize that most of the bulgewas sack and sand, and mighty little of it gold. It was somethingtangible and valuable; and we were filled with a tremendous desire toadd to its bulk.
We worked with entire absorption, quite oblivious to all that was goingon about us. It was only by accident that Yank looked up at last, so Ido not know how long Don Gaspar had been there.
"Will you look at that!" cried Yank.
Don Gaspar, still in his embroidered boots, his crimson velvet breeches,his white linen, and his sombrero, but without the blue and silverjacket, was busily wielding a pickaxe a hundred feet or so away. Hiscompanion, or servant, was doing the heavier shovel work.
"Why, oh, why!" breathed Johnny at last, "do you suppose, if he _must_mine, he doesn't buy himself a suit of dungarees or a flannelshirt?"
"I'll bet it's the first hard work he ever did in his life," surmisedYank.
"And I'll bet he won't do that very long," I guessed.
But Don Gaspar seemed to have more sticking power than we gave himcredit for. We did not pay him much further attention, for we were busywith our own affairs; but every time we glanced in his direction heappeared to be still at it. Our sack of sand was growing heavier; asindeed were our limbs. As a matter of fact we had been at harder workthan any of us had been accustomed to, for very long hours, beneath ascorching sun, without food, and under strong excitement. We did notknow when to quit; but the sun at last decided it for us by dippingbelow the mountains to the west.
We left our picks and shovels in our pit; but carried back with us ourpans, for in them we wished to dry out our sand. The horses were stillat their picket ropes; and we noticed near the lower end of the meadow,but within the bushes, three more animals moving slowly. A slim columnof smoke ascended from beyond the bushes. Evidently we had neighbours.
We were dog tired, and so far starved that we did not know we werehungry. My eyes felt as though they must look like holes burned in ablanket. We lit a fire, and near it placed our panful of sand. But wedid not take time to cook ourselves a decent meal; we were much tooexcited for that. A half-made pot of coffee, some pork burned crisp, andsome hard bread comprised our supper. Then Yank and I took a handful ofthe dried sand in the other two pans, and commenced cautiously to blowit away. Johnny hovered over us full of suggestions, and premonitions ofcalamity.
"Don't blow too, hard, fellows," he besought us; "you'll blow away thegold! For heaven's sake, go easy!"
We growled at him, and blew. I confess that my heart went fast withgreat anxiety, as though the stakes of my correct blowing were millions.However, as we later discovered, it is almost impossible to blowincorrectly.
There is something really a little awing about pure gold new-born fromthe soil. Gold is such a stable article, so strictly guarded, socarefully checked and counted, that the actual production of metal thathas had no existence savours almost of the alchemical. We had somewhatless than an ounce, to be sure; but that amount in flake gold bulksconsiderably. We did not think of it in terms of its worth in dollars;we looked on it only as the Gold, and we stared at the substantiallittle heap of yellow particles with fascinated awe.
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