The Cave of Gold
Page 24
CHAPTER XXI
PEDRO
The next morning all our friends were up an hour before sunrise; for theNever-Give-Up California Mining Company had much to do that morning, ifthey started on the hunt for the Cave of Gold that day, as they hoped todo. The horses had to be brought from the little valley five miles away,where they had been turned out to pasture, needed supplies of food andclothing and tools had to be procured at the stores of Hangtown, andeverything had to be made ready for the rough journey through thewilderness of mountains and forests to the northeast. But nine men andone woman can accomplish much in a few hours; and by noon everything wasin readiness for the start, and the horses stood saddled and bridled andpacked, ready for the journey, before the door of the log house, whileour friends gathered around the rough table inside for their last mealin the house that had sheltered them for so long.
"Seems almost like leaving home," declared Mr. Conroyal, as his eyesglanced slowly around the familiar room.
"It shore does," agreed Ham. "We've had some mighty good times in theold house; an' I hopes th' fellers who move in when we're out, will besort of gentle tew things. Somehow it seems a leetle cruel tew desertthem tew friendly old rockers thar, that have so often given ease an'comfort tew our tired bodies, not knowin' what sort of critters willnext sot down in 'em," and his eyes rested on the two barrel-rockers."They seem tew be a lookin' at me right now, sort of forlorn an'reproachful-like," and a smile lighted his face at the whimsicalthought. "Wal, that kind of philosophizin' won't dig no gold. Now, dewyou reckon them skunks are on th' watch an' will try tew foller us?" andthe smile left his face.
"Yes," answered Mr. Conroyal. "They have probably been watching us allthe morning. When Frank and I started out as soon as it was light enoughto see to try and trace the string and maybe get onto the trail of thescoundrels, we both feel certain that we were watched and that somebodywas warned of our coming, because, before we'd gone a dozen rods, weheard a coyotelike bark, coming from way up the mountain-side and endingin a howl that we are sure never came from a coyote's throat; and, whenwe got to the clump of trees, we found signs of someone having beenthere only a few minutes before, and followed the trail to a rocky gulcha dozen rods beyond the trees, where we lost the trail on the hardrocks. Yes, they sure will try to follow us; for now, I fancy, theirplan is, since they can't get hold of the map, to let us find the goldand then to try and get it away from us. At least that is the way Frankand I figure it out; and we've got to give them the slip somehowsomewhere between here and Lot's Canyon, or fight for the gold. Quinleyand Ugger have probably gathered together a band of cut-throats, andfigure on being able to get the gold away from us after we have foundit."
"And we calculate," continued Frank Holt, "that the best way to try andgive them the slip will be to go into camp early to-night; and thenabout midnight to suddenly and quietly break camp and steal away undercover of the darkness, hoping to get away without their knowing it."
"I reckon they're tew cute tew be fooled that easy," and Ham shook hishead.
"And so do we," grinned back Holt. "But we calculate that it will makethem think that we think that we have fooled them, and so they won'tconsider it necessary to keep so close watch on us, and we can try tomake our real getaway the next night or the night after."
"That sounds more like it," and Ham grinned his approval. "Wal, since weall 'pear tew be through eatin', let's git a-goin'," and he jumped upfrom the table and hurried out doors, nearly stumbling over a thin,sallow-faced, middle-aged Mexican, who stood near the door apparentlywaiting for someone to come out.
"Hello, Pedro! What you doin' here?" and Ham scowled down on the littleMexican, whom he had often seen working about Coleman's store. "Colemansend you for something?"
"No, senor," answered the Mexican. "Coleman kick me this morning; andnow I no longer work for Coleman. I now would cook and keep camp forsenors," and he bowed, with a flourish of both his thin arms. "Get wood,make fire, cook, carry water, clean dish, all I do for senors. I verygood cook. Coleman say I make best flapjacks in Hangtown. All I do forsenors for one ounce gold-dust a week. Si, senors?" and his bright blackeyes flashed questioningly around the circle of faces that, by thistime, had gathered around him.
"But, see, our hosses are packed. We're 'bout tew break camp," and Hampointed to the horses.
"Si, senor," answered Pedro, smiling. "I know how pack horse, so pack noslip under belly. I go where senors go. I do good work, kind, faithful,honest," and again he smiled, until his teeth showed like two rows ofyellow ivory in his mouth.
"Now," and Ham turned questioningly to the others. "I wonder if'twouldn't be a good thing tew take Pedro 'long? He could help a lot'bout hoss-packin' an' cookin' an' things, an' could dew all th' dirtyheavy work for th' Leetle Woman."
"Reckon you're right, Ham," declared Mr. Conroyal. "Shall we take theMexican on his own terms?" and he glanced inquiringly around.
"Yes, and a good bargain I call it," assented Mr. Randolph. "Pedrocouldn't have staid as long as he did with Coleman, if he hadn't been apretty decent sort of a Mexican; and he can help a lot about camp."
And thus it came about that Pedro, the Mexican, entered the service ofour friends, without a thought of suspicion that he might be other thanwhat he seemed coming into the head of one of them. If they had not seenhim so often working about Coleman's store and felt sure that he wasonly an ignorant Mexican menial, they probably would have been a littlemore cautious about taking him with them on such a venture as they wereabout to undertake.
Mrs. Dickson was given one of the horses to ride, although she protestedthat she was just as able to walk as anybody; but the other five horseswere all loaded with the packs containing the supplies for the journeyand the mining tools, the men, of course, all walking. The fivepack-horses were placed in charge of Pedro and brought up the rear ofthe little column of men that now marched slowly over the hill thatflanked Hangtown and off toward the unknown wilderness of mountains andforests to the northeast, Ham and Dickson and Mr. Conroyal in the lead.
For the first two or three days' march, or until they had passed beyondthe region where the miners were at work, their way would be plain. Theyhad only to follow the trail of the miners to Humbug Canyon, the lastknown place marked down on the skin map. But from Humbug Canyon on therewould be no trail to follow and they would be obliged to trust to theguidance of Mr. Dickson and the skin map to bring them into Lot'sCanyon. After that they would have to depend entirely on the map andtheir own skill to discover the hidden opening into Crooked Arm Gulch.
Naturally Thure and Bud were in high spirits, now that they wereactually on their way to the marvelous Cave of Gold; and, boylike, theyallowed no thoughts of the threatening perils from Ugger and Quinley andtheir band of cut-throats to trouble their minds or to distract theirattention from the wonderful scenes constantly unfolding before them, asthey advanced along the trail leading to Humbug Canyon, where somethinginteresting or beautiful or both met their eyes each moment, no matterin what direction they looked. Now it was some wonderful formation ofnature--great masses of rocks towering thousands of feet above theirheads, picturesque little mountain-surrounded valleys, deep canyons andgulches and ravines and chasms, beautiful cascades of water plungingover precipitous cliffs to fall in a stream of sparkling jewels on therocks at their base, or great forests of columnlike trees, or winding,murmuring, plunging, seething, turbulent little streams of water rushingfuriously toward some far-off valley, and like marvels and beauties ofnature. Again, in entering some little valley or ravine, they would comesuddenly upon a picturesque little company of miners hard at work withpicks and shovels and pans and cradles, searching for the elusive yellowgrains of gold. Indeed, during that first afternoon, they found theminers everywhere, in the valleys, in the gulches and the ravines, alongthe streams, wherever there seemed the least prospect of finding gold,there these wild knights of the pick and the shovel were sure to befound; and, as they passed, the latest mining news would be shouted backand f
orth, enlivened with rude sallies of wit and merry well-wishes.
Sometimes they would pause for a few minutes to talk with the miners andto watch them at their work; and, on one of these occasions, Thure andBud saw, for the first time, a couple of miners at work with a cradle,as this queer machine used to separate the gold from the dirt is called.
"I don't wonder it is called a cradle," Thure exclaimed, the moment hecaught sight of the odd-looking contrivance. "Why, if it wasn't for thathopper on the upper end and the man shoveling dirt and pouring waterinto it, one would surely think that fellow was rocking his baby tosleep in its cradle. Can't we wait here a little while and watch themwork it?" and Thure turned to his father. "The horses need a restanyway."
"Going to clean up soon?" Mr. Conroyal called to the men.
"In about ten minutes," answered the shoveler. "And, I reckon, we canshow some gold when we do. Won't you wait and see how it pans out?" heinvited cordially.
"Oh, do, please!" cried both the boys.
"All right," assented Mr. Conroyal. "A rest won't hurt the horses, and Iam sure the clean up will interest you boys."
"Bully! Come on. Let's get closer," and Thure started on the run for thespot where the two men were working.
The men had placed the cradle within a few feet of where they weredigging up the pay-dirt, and near the cradle they had dug a smallreservoir, which was kept constantly filled with water by means of asmall trench dug from the little mountain stream a dozen rods away, sothat they had both the water and the dirt handy, two very necessarythings to make cradling successful, unless the pay-dirt is very rich.The machine itself, as Thure said, looked very much like a rudely made,baby's cradle. The body was about the same size and shape as theordinary homemade box cradle seen in the homes of thousands in thosedays and underneath it were two similar rockers, but here theresemblance ended. One end of the cradle-box was a little higher thanthe other end, which was left open, so that the water loaded with thewaste dirt could run out; and on the upper end stood a hopper, orriddle-box, as it was frequently called, about twenty inches square,with sides four inches high and a bottom made of sheet-iron, piercedwith holes half an inch in diameter. Directly under the hopper, whichwas not nailed to the cradle-box, was an apron of wood, fastened to thesides of the cradle-box and sloping down from the lower end of thehopper to the upper end of the cradle-box. Two strips of wood, about aninch square, called riffle-bars, were nailed across the bottom of thecradle-box, one at the middle and the other near the lower end. Anupright piece of wood, nailed to one side of the cradle-box, furnished aconvenient handle for the man who did the rocking. Such, brieflydescribed, was the make of the curious machine that had so aroused theinterest of Thure and Bud.
"Ever see a cradle work before?" asked the man who was shoveling thedirt and pouring the water into the hopper, as Thure and Bud camerunning up, their eyes shining with interest.
"No," answered Thure. "It sure is a funny looking machine."
"It sure is," agreed the man. "But a fellow can clean two or three timesas much dirt with it as he can with a pan and do it better. This is thephilosophy of it," and he shoveled the pay-dirt into the hopper until itwas a little over half filled, and then, picking up a long-handleddipper, began dipping water out of the reservoir and pouring it on thedirt in the hopper, while the other man constantly kept the cradlerocking back and forth. "You see," continued the man, "the motion andthe water loosens and softens the dirt until all of it, except thelarger stones, falls through the holes in the bottom of the hopper andruns down the apron to the upper end of the cradle and then down thebottom of the cradle and over the riffle-bars and out the lower end,leaving the gold and the heavier particles of sand and gravel behind theriffle-bars. But a fellow has to keep the cradle in constant motion, orthe sand will pack and harden behind the riffle-bars and allow the goldto slide over it, instead of sinking down through it, as gold alwayswill when sand or gravel is loose or in motion," as he spoke, he thrusthis hand into the hopper and picked out a couple of stones too large topass through the holes in the bottom of the hopper, and, after closelyexamining them to see that there was no gold clinging to their sides,threw them away.
"But, how do you get the gold out of the cradle?" queried Bud. "It seemsto be mixed all up with a lot of heavy sand and gravel behind theriffle-bars."
"We will show you, just as soon as we wash out this hopper full ofdirt," replied the man. "Ay, Hank?" and he turned to his companion, therocker.
"I reckon it is about time to make a clean up, Dave," assented Hank,shifting the other hand to the cradle handle. "Anyhow both my arms areabout plumb tired out."
After about ten minutes of this vigorous rocking all the dirt had beendissolved and nothing remained in the hopper except a number of stones,too large to fall through the holes in its bottom, which had been washedclean by the water and the shaking they had received.
"There, I calculate that will do the business," and the man addressed asDave, dropped the dipper, with which he had been pouring the water intothe hopper, while Hank stopped rocking the cradle and, rising to hisfeet, stretched up both arms over his head with a sigh of relief.
"Say, but this gold-digging is darned hard work," and he grinned down atthe two boys.
"A darned sight harder than measuring cloth behind a counter," laughedDave, as he lifted the hopper off the cradle and with a quick jerk threwthe stones out of it and laid it down on the ground. "But a fellow getssomething for his hard work--that is, he does if he is lucky," he added,as he picked up a large iron spoon from the ground near the cradle. "Nowwe'll see how the gold pans out," and bending over the cradle he begandigging out the gravel and sand behind the riffle-bars with the spoonand throwing it into a gold-pan, which Hank held.
By this time all the company, except Pedro, who had been left in chargeof the pack-horses, had gathered around the two men and were watchingthe cleaning up process with the greatest interest.
"'Bout how much dew you expect she'll pan out?" queried Ham, as Davescraped out the last spoonful of sand and gravel and threw it into thepan.
"Somewhere between three and four ounces," answered Dave. "At least thatis about what we usually clean out. How does she feel, Hank?" and heturned to his partner, who was running his fingers speculatively throughthe wet sand in the pan.
"I'll bet you an ounce of dust that there is a good five ounces of goldin this pan right now," declared the man, his eyes shining.
Before replying Dave took the pan and ran his fingers a few timesthrough the sand.
"I'll go you. Wash her out," and he handed the pan back to Hank.
Hank now took the pan to the little stream of water, where the swiftcurrent would help in separating the gold from the sand; and in a fewminutes his skilful hands had succeeded in washing out of the pan allthe sand and gravel, except a thin layer of black sand, that was tooheavy to wash out without danger of washing out the gold with it, whichnow could be seen sparkling here and there in the sand.
"Want to back out?" and Hank held the pan up in triumph in front ofDave's face.
"Sure not. There is not over four ounces there," answered Dave, after amoment's close examination of the sand. "Get out your magnet."
Hank now thrust one of his hands into his pocket and pulled out a largehorseshoe magnet, the ends of which he at once began passing over theblack sand in the bottom of the pan; and, since the black sand wasnearly all iron, the magnet force caused it to cling to the horseshoeand in this ingenious manner the remaining sand was quickly drawn fromthe pan, leaving a thin, a very thin layer of gold-dust lying on itsbottom.
Dave now produced a small balance from one of his pockets and thegold-dust was quickly gathered up and weighed.
"I win! Five ounces and a half!" shouted Hank triumphantly, at the sametime giving Dave a resounding whack on his back with the flat of hishand. "That's the best clean up we've had since we started digging here.I reckon you boys brought us good luck," and he grinned joyously intothe faces of Thure and Bud.
"Usually about four times," answered one of the men. "But sometimes,when the shoveling is good, we get in another clean up or two by workinga little late."
"Wal, tew hundred an' fifty or three hundred dollars' worth of gold aday is shore dewin' pretty well for tew men; an' I hopes y'ur good luckcontinues."
"No more measuring cloth behind a counter for me, if it does," laughedDave. "You see Hank and I were both clerks in a drygoods store backEast; but we will both be proprietors when we get back, if our good luckholds out only a few months longer," and the look on the faces of thetwo men told how much they were counting on that proprietorship.
"I am sure your good luck will continue," smiled Mr. Conroyalencouragingly. "But now we must be on our way," and he led the way backto where Pedro was waiting with the horses.
That night our friends made their camp in a little grove of trees thatgrew on the bank of a streamlet flowing through a small mountain valley,where there was an abundance of water, wood, and grass.
Pedro proved himself so great a success at unpacking the horses andattending to the rougher camp duties that all felt like congratulatingthemselves on having secured his service. He was willing and cleanly,two rather rare qualities in the Mexican camp menial, who was usuallysullen in disposition and dirty in person and habits. He also proved tothe satisfaction of all that his flapjacks deserved all the praises thatColeman had given them.
"He's a jewel," declared Mrs. Dickson enthusiastically. "And, if itwasn't for something snaky and creepy-crawly looking in his eyes, I hadrather have his help than that of most women's. But I guess that queerlook and the way he has of watching all of us comes from his beingMexican. Now," and she lowered her voice, "are you still planning tobreak camp sometime during the night and try to fool Ugger and his men,if they are trying to keep watch of us?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Conroyal. "The moon will be up about midnight; and, Ireckon, that will be about the best time for us to try to make ourgetaway. So the sooner we all get to sleep the more rest we will get.Now, how about the guard?" and he turned inquiringly to the circle ofmen who had gathered around the camp-fire for a quiet little talk, afterthe supper had been eaten and all the camp duties had been attended to."Do you think it necessary for us to post guards over the camp nights?"
"Sart'in," declared Ham. "Them skunks would be shore tew be up tew somedevilment, like stealin' our hosses or something if we didn't; an' Idon't calculate on lettin' 'em git th' start on us, if watchin' willprevent it. I'm for havin' a guard every night, until we git safe backtew civilerzation ag'in. Them's uncommon cunnin' scoundrels what's onour trail, an' we don't want tew take no chances with them."
"That's exactly the way I feel about it," agreed Mr. Conroyal. "Twouldbe foolish to run any needless chances. Rex, you will stand guard forthe first two hours. Then you can awaken Dill, who will keep guard untilit is time to arouse the camp, which will be just as soon as the moonrises, somewhere around midnight. Now everybody but Rex get into theirblankets."
A small tent had been secured for the use of Mrs. Dickson, into whichshe now retired; but the men found "soft" spots of ground near thecamp-fire, spread out their blankets on them, and, rolling themselves upin the blankets, lay down to as sound a sleep as ever blessed a man inthe most comfortable of beds.
A little after midnight, just as the white disk of the moon rose abovethe tops of the mountains to the east, Dill quietly awoke his father;and then the two quietly, and cautioning all to make as little noise aspossible, awoke the others.
Pedro, who had lain down near the horses, was at first inclined to besurly, when aroused from a sound sleep and told to pack the horses asquickly and as quietly as possible; but in a few minutes all hissurliness had vanished and he was doing the work with a swift andskilful dexterity that showed long practice.
In half an hour the horses were packed and everything was ready tostart.
"Now," and Mr. Conroyal lowered his voice almost to a whisper, "theremust be no talking and everyone must move quietly, so as to make aslittle noise as possible, until we have put a couple of miles between usand the camp. I'll go on ahead and the others can follow in single file.Rex, you and Dill and Thure and Bud help Pedro with the horses. You hadbetter lead them for awhile. We will leave the camp-fire burning.Everybody ready?"
"Yes"--"Yes," came in whispers.
"All right. Come on," and Mr. Conroyal, walking carefully so as to makeas little noise as possible, moved off down the trail that showedfaintly in the moonlight.
In the excitement of the moment no one saw Pedro bend quickly down tothe ground, just before starting, and swiftly slip a piece of paper onwhich was written the two words, "Humbug Canyon," under a stone that laynear the camp-fire, and then, with a cunning gleam in his snaky blackeyes straighten up and give all his attention to the horse he was tolead.
All now fell into line and followed close behind Mr. Conroyal, Thure andBud and Rex and Dill and Pedro each leading one of the pack-horses.
For a mile the trail was over the soft grass-covered sod of the valley,which muffled the sounds made by their moving feet, so that they mighthave passed within half a dozen rods of a camp without a man in itdreaming that a little company of men and horses were passing, unless hechanced to see them. Then the trail again entered the defiles of themountains, where the going was rough and difficult and sometimesdangerous, on account of their not being able to see clearly in the dimlight of the moon; but Mr. Conroyal kept pressing steadily and silentlyonward, and as steadily and as silently all the others followed.
There was no talking, even after they had passed the danger zone. No oneseemed to care to talk. There was something in the mystery of the nightand the wilderness, in the white light of the moon falling on tree androck and mountain and valley, in the silence of the vast surroundingforests and mighty piles of towering rocks that stilled the tongue.
For a couple of hours they journeyed steadily and silently on throughthe moonlit wilderness; and then Mr. Conroyal came to a halt in a narrowlittle valley.
"I reckon we've thrown the scoundrels off the trail by now, if we aregoing to to-night," he said; "and so we might as well go into camp againand rest up until sunrise; and as this looks like a good place we willgo into camp right there under those trees," and he pointed toward alittle grove of evergreen oaks that grew a few rods away.
All were tired and all were sleepy; and, consequently, all welcomed thedecision to go into camp, and acted on it so promptly that, in fifteenminutes, all, except the guard, were rolled up in their blankets andsoon were sound asleep.