CHAPTER XVII
THE DIGGINGS
The following days were replicas of the first. We ate hurriedly at oddtimes; we worked feverishly; we sank into our tumbled blankets at nighttoo tired to wiggle. But the buckskin sack of gold was swelling androunding out most satisfactorily. By the end of the week it containedover a pound!
But the long hours, the excitement, and the inadequate food told on ournerves. We snapped at each other impatiently at times; and once or twicecame near to open quarrelling. Johnny and I were constantly pecking ateach other over the most trivial concerns.
One morning we were halfway to the bar when we remembered that we hadneglected to picket out the horses. It was necessary for one of us to goback, and we were all reluctant to do so.
"I'll be damned if I'm going to lug 'way up that hill," I growled tomyself. "I tied them up yesterday, anyway."
Johnny caught this.
"Well, it wasn't your turn yesterday," he pointed out, "and it isto-day. I've got nothing to do with what you chose to do yesterday."
"Or any other day," I muttered.
"What's that?" cried Johnny truculently. "I couldn't hear. Speak up!"
We were flushed, and eying each other malevolently.
"That'll do!" said Yank, with an unexpected tone of authority. "Nobodywill go back, and nobody will go ahead. We'll just sit down on this log,yere, while we smoke one pipe apiece. I've got something to say."
Johnny and I turned on him with a certain belligerency mingled withsurprise. Yank had so habitually acted the part of taciturnity that hisdecided air of authority confused us. His slouch had straightened, hishead was up, his mild eye sparkled. Suddenly I felt like a bad smallboy; and I believe Johnny was the same. After a moment's hesitation wesat down on the log.
"Now," said Yank firmly, "it's about time we took stock. We been herenow five days; we ain't had a decent meal of vittles in that time; weain't fixed up our camp a mite; we ain't been to town to see the sights;we don't even know the looks of the man that's camped down below us.We've been too danged busy to be decent. Now we're goin' to call a halt.I should jedge we have a pound of gold, or tharabouts. How much is thatworth, Johnny? You can figger in yore head."
"Along about two hundred and fifty dollars," said Johnny after a moment.
"Well, keep on figgerin'. How much does that come to apiece?"
"About eighty dollars, of course."
"And dividin' eighty by five?" persisted Yank.
"Sixteen."
"Well," drawled Yank, his steely blue eye softening to a twinkle,"sixteen dollars a day is fair wages, to be sure; but nothin' to getwildly excited over." He surveyed the two of us with some humour."Hadn't thought of it that way, had you?" he asked. "Nuther had I untillast night. I was so dog tired I couldn't sleep, and I got to figgerin'a little on my own hook."
"Why, I can do better than that in San Francisco--with half the work!" Icried.
"Maybe for a while," said Yank, "but here we got a chance to make a bigstrike most any time; and in the meantime to make good wages. But weain't going to do it any quicker by killin' ourselves. Now to-day isSunday. I ain't no religious man; but Sunday is a good day to quit. Ipropose we go back to camp peaceable, make a decent place to stay, cookourselves up a squar' meal, wash out our clothes, visit the next camp,take a look at town, and enjoy ourselves."
Thus vanished the first and most wonderful romance of the gold. Reducedto wages it was somehow no longer so marvellous. The element ofuncertainty was always there, to be sure; and an inexplicablefascination; but no longer had we any desire to dig up the whole placeimmediately. I suppose we moved nearly as much earth, but the fibres ofour minds were relaxed, and we did it more easily and with less nervouswear and tear.
Also, as Yank suggested, we took pains to search out our fellow beings.The camper below us proved to be Don Gaspar, velvet breeches and all. Hereceived us hospitably, and proffered perfumed cigarettos which we didnot like, but which we smoked out of politeness. Our common ground ofmeeting was at first the natural one of the gold diggings. Don Gasparand his man, whom he called Vasquez, had produced somewhat less flakegold than ourselves, but exhibited a half-ounce nugget and severalsmaller lumps. We could not make him out. Neither his appearance nor hispersonal equipment suggested necessity; and yet he laboured as hard asthe rest of us. His gaudy costume was splashed and grimy with the redmud, although evidently he had made some attempt to brush it. The linenwas, of course, hopeless. He showed us the blisters on his smallaristocratic-looking hands.
"It is the hard work" he stated simply, "but one gets the gold."
From that subject we passed on to horses. He confessed that he wasuneasy as to the safety of his own magnificent animals; and succeeded inalarming us as to our own.
"Thos' Indian," he told us, "are always out to essteal; and the_paisanos_. It has been tole me that Andreas Amijo and his robbersare near. Some day we loose our horse!"
Our anxiety at this time was given an edge by the fact that the horses,having fed well, and becoming tired of the same place, were inclined tostray. It was impossible to keep them always on picket lines--the natureof the meadow would not permit it--and they soon learned to be veryclever with their hobbles. Several mornings we put in an hour or sohunting them up and bringing them in before we could start work for theday. This wasted both time and temper. The result was that we driftedinto partnership with Don Gaspar and Vasquez. I do not remember whoproposed the arrangement; indeed, I am inclined to think it just cameabout naturally from our many discussions on the subject. Under theterms of it we appointed Vasquez to cook all the meals, take full careof the horses, chop the wood, draw the water, and keep camp generally.The rest of us worked in couples at the bar. We divided the gold intofive equal parts.
Our production at this time ran from five to seven ounces a day, whichwas, of course, good wages, but would not make our fortunes. We soonfell into a rut, working cheerfully and interestedly, but withoutexcitement. The nature of our produce kept our attention. We should longsince have wearied of any other job requiring an equal amount of work,but there was a never-ending fascination in blowing away the debris fromthe virgin gold. And one day, not far from us, two Hollanders--"DutchCharleys," as the miners called that nationality--scooped from adepression in the bedrock mixed coarse gold thirty odd pounds inweight--over $5,000! That revived our interest, you may be sure.
Most of the miners seemed content to stick to panning. Their argumentwas that by this method they could accumulate a fair amount of dust, andran just as good chances of a "strike" as the next fellow. Furthermore,they had no tools, no knowledge and no time to make cradles. Thoseimplements had to be very accurately constructed.
We discussed this matter almost every evening. Yank was a great believerin improving the efficiency of our equipment.
"It'll handle four or five times the dirt," said he "and that means fouror five times the dust."
"There's no lumber to be had anywhere," I objected.
"I know where there's three good stout boxes made of real lumber that wecan get for forty dollars," said Yank.
"You can't cut that stuff up with an axe."
"John Semple has a saw, a plane, and a hammer; he's a carpenter."
"You bet he is!" agreed Johnny. "I was talking to him last night. Hewon't lend his tools; and he won't hire them. He'll come with them forfifty dollars a day."
"All right," said Yank, "let's hire him. I'm pretty handy, and I'll stayright in camp and help him. Vasquez can go dig instead of me. We can get'em cut out and fitted in two days, anyway. We've got the money!"
I think none of us was very enthusiastic on this subject except Yank;but he finally carried the day. Vasquez, somewhat to his chagrin, Ithought, resumed his shovel. Yank and John Semple tinkered away for theallotted two days, and triumphantly produced two cradles at a cost of around one hundred and fifty dollars.
Although we had been somewhat doubtful as to the advisability ofspending this sum, I am bound to state that Yan
k's insistence wasjustified. It certainly made the work easier. We took turns shovellingthe earth and pouring in the water, and "rocking the baby." Ourproduction jumped two or three ounces a day.
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