The Golden Dream: Adventures in the Far West

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  NED AND TOM TAKE TO WANDERING--PHILOSOPHICAL SPECULATIONS--A STARTLINGAPPARITION--THE DIGGER INDIANS--WATER BOILED IN A BASKET--THE GLOOMYPASS--THE ATTACK BY ROBBERS--THE FIGHT--A SURPRISE--THE ENCAMPMENT.

  Change is one of the laws of nature. We refer not to small-change,reader, but to physical, material change. Everything is given tochange; men, and things, and place, and circumstances, all change, moreor less, as time rolls on in its endless course. Following, then, thisinevitable law of nature, we, too, will change the scene, and convey ourreader deeper in among the plains and mountains of the far, "far west."

  It is a beautiful evening in July. The hot season has not yet succeededin burning up all nature into a dry russet-brown. The whole face of thecountry is green and fresh after a recent shower, which has left myriadsof diamond-drops trembling from the point of every leaf and blade. Awide valley, of a noble park-like appearance, is spread out before us,with scattered groups of trees all over it, blue mountain-ranges in thefar distance circling round it, and a bright stream winding down itsemerald breast. On the hill-sides the wild-flowers grow so thickly thatthey form a soft, thick couch to lie upon, immense trees, chiefly pinesand cedars, rise here and there like giants above their fellows. Oaks,too, are numerous, and the scene in many places is covered withmansanita underwood, a graceful and beautiful shrub. The trees andshrubbery, however, are not so thickly planted as to intercept the view,and the ground undulates so much that occasionally we overtop them, andobtain a glimpse of the wide vale before us. Over the whole landscapethere is a golden sunny haze, that enriches while it softens everyobject, and the balmy atmosphere is laden with the sweet perfume calledforth by the passing shower.

  One might fancy Eden to have been somewhat similar to this, and here, asthere, the presence of the Lord might be recognised in a higher degreethan in most other parts of this earth, for, in this almost untroddenwilderness, His pre-eminently beautiful works have not yet to any greatextent been marred by the hand of man.

  Far away towards the north, two horsemen may be seen wending their waythrough the country at a slow, ambling pace, as if they would fainprolong their ride in such a lovely vale. The one is Ned Sinton, theother Tom Collins.

  It had cost these worthies a week of steady riding, to reach the spot onwhich we now find them, during which time they had passed through greatvarieties of scenery, had seen many specimens of digging-life, and hadexperienced not a few vicissitudes; but their griefs were few and slightcompared with their enjoyments, and, at the moment we overtake them,they were riding they knew not and they cared not whither! Sufficientfor them to know that the wilds before them were illimitable; that theirsteeds were of the best and fleetest Mexican breed; that their purseswere well-lined with dollars and gold-dust; that they were armed withrifles, pistols, knives, and ammunition, to the teeth; and that the landwas swarming with game.

  "'Tis a perfect paradise!" exclaimed Tom Collins, as they reined up onthe brow of a hill to gaze at the magnificent prospect before them.

  "Strange," murmured Ned, half soliloquising, "that, although so wild anduncultivated, it should remind me so forcibly of home. Yonder bend inthe stream, and the scenery round it, is so like to the spot where I wasborn, and where I spent my earliest years, that I can almost fancy theold house will come into view at the next turn."

  "It does indeed remind one of the cultivated parks of England," repliedTom; "but almost all my early associations are connected with cities. Ihave seen little of uncontaminated nature all my life, except the bluesky through chimney tops, and even that was seen through a medium ofsmoke."

  "Do you know," remarked Ned, as they resumed their journey at a slowpace, "it has always seemed to me that cities are unnaturalmonstrosities, and that there should be no such things!"

  "Indeed," replied Tom, laughing; "how, then, would you have men tolive?"

  "In the country, of course, in cottages and detached houses. I wouldsow London, Liverpool, Manchester, etcetera, broadcast over the land, sothat there would be no spot in Britain in which there were not clustersof human dwellings, each with its little garden around it, and yet nospot on which a _city_ could be found."

  "Hum, rather awkward for the transaction of business, I fear," suggestedTom.

  "Not a bit; our distances would be greater, but we could overcome thatdifficulty by using horses more than we do--and railroads."

  "And how would you manage with huge manufactories?" inquired Tom.

  "I've not been able to solve that difficulty yet," replied Ned, smiling;"but my not being able to point out how things may be put right, doesnot, in the least degree, alter the fact that, as they are at present,they are wrong."

  "Most true, my sagacious friend," said Tom; "but, pray, how do you provethe fact that things _are_ wrong?"

  "I prove it thus:--You admit, I suppose, that the air of all largecities is unhealthy, as compared with that of the country, and that menand women who dwell in cities are neither so robust nor so healthy asthose who dwell in country places?"

  "I'm not sure that I do admit it," answered Tom.

  "Surely you don't deny that people of the cities deem it a necessary oflife to get off to the country at least once a year, in order torecruit, and that they invariably return better in health than when theyleft?"

  "True; but that is the result of change."

  "Ay," added Ned, "the result of change from worse to better."

  "Well, I admit it for the sake of argument."

  "Well, then, if the building of cities necessarily and inevitablycreates a condition of atmosphere which is, to some extent, no matterhow slight, prejudicial to health, those who build them and dwell inthem are knowingly damaging the life which has been given them to becherished and taken care of."

  "Ned," said Tom, quietly, "you're a goose!"

  "Tom," retorted Ned, "I know it; but, in the sense in which you applythe term, all men are geese. They are divided into two classes--namely,geese who are such because they can't and won't listen to reason, andgeese who are such because they take the trouble to talk philosophicallyto the former; but to return from this digression, what think you of theargument?"

  Tom replied by reining up his steed, pointing to an object in front, andinquiring, "What think you of _that_?"

  The object referred to was a man, but, in appearance at least, he wasnot many degrees removed from the monkey. He was a black, squat,hideous-looking native, and his whole costume, besides the little stripof cloth usually worn by natives round the loins, consisted of a blacksilk hat and a pair of Wellington boots!

  Dear reader, do not suppose that I am trying to impose upon yourgood-natured credulity. What I state is a _fact_, however unlikely itmay appear in your eyes.

  The natives of this part of the country are called digger Indians, notwith reference to gold-digging, but from the fact of their diggingsubterranean dwellings, in which they pass the winter, and also from thefact that they grub in the earth a good deal for roots, on which theypartly subsist. They are degraded, miserable creatures, and altogetheruncivilised, besides being diminutive in stature.

  Soon after the first flood of gold-hunters swept over their lands thesepoor creatures learned the value of gold, but they were too lazy to workdiligently for it. They contented themselves with washing out enough topurchase a few articles of luxury, in the shape of cast-off apparel,from the white men. When stores began to be erected here and therethroughout the country, they visited them to purchase fresh provisionsand articles of dress, of which latter they soon became passionatelyfond.

  But the digger Indians were not particular as to style or fashion--glitter and gay colour were the chief elements of attraction. Sometimesa naked savage might be seen going about with a second-hand dress-coatput on the wrong way, and buttoned up the back. Another would contenthimself with a red silk handkerchief tied round his head or shoulders.A third would thrust his spindle-shanks through the arms of a sleevedvest, and button the body round his
loins; while a fourth, like the onenow under consideration, would parade about in a hat and boots.

  The poor digger had drawn the right boot on the left foot, and the leftboot on the right--a matter of little moment, however, as they wereimmensely too large for him, as was also the hat, which only remained onhis brows by being placed very much back on the head. He was a mostsingular being, and Ned and Tom, after the first glance of astonishment,were so un-mannered as to laugh at him until they almost fell off theirhorses. The digger was by no means disconcerted. He evidently wasaccustomed to the free and easy manners of white men, and while theyrolled in their saddles, he stood quietly beside them, grinninghideously from ear to ear.

  "Truly, a rare specimen of humanity," cried Ned, when he recovered hiscomposure. "Where did _you_ come from, old boy?"

  The digger shook his head, and uttered some unintelligible words.

  "It's of no use speaking to him; he don't understand English," said TomCollins, with a somewhat puzzled expression.

  The two friends made several attempts to ask him, by signs, where helived, but they utterly failed. Their first efforts had the effect ofmaking the man laugh, but their second attempts, being more energeticand extravagant, frightened him so that he manifested a disposition torun away. This disposition they purposely encouraged until he fairlytook to his heels, and, by following him, they at last came upon thevillage in which his tribe resided.

  Here they found an immense assemblage of men, and women, and children,whose appearance denoted dirtiness, laziness, and poverty. They werealmost all in a state bordering on nudity, but a few of them woremiscellaneous portions of European apparel. The hair of the men waslong, except on the forehead, where it was cut square, just above theeyebrows. The children wore no clothes at all. The infants werecarried on stiff cradles, similar to those used by North AmericanIndians. They all resided in tents, made of brushwood and sticks, andhundreds of mangy, half-starved curs dwelt along with them.

  The hero of the hat and boots was soon propitiated by the gift of a fewinches of tobacco, and Ned Sinton and Tom Collins were quickly onintimate terms with the whole tribe.

  It is difficult to resist the tendency to laugh when a human beingstands before you in a ludicrously-meagre costume, making hideousgrimaces with his features, and remarkable contortions with his limbs,in the vain efforts to make himself understood by one who does not speakhis language! Ned's powers of endurance were tested in this way by thechief of the tribe, an elderly man with a beard so sparse that eachstumpy hair might have been easily counted.

  This individual was clad in the rough, ragged blue coat usually worn byIrish labourers of the poorest class. It was donned with the tails infront; and two brass buttons, the last survivors of a once glitteringdouble row, fastened it across the back of its savage owner.

  "What _can_ he mean?" said Ned, at the close of a series of pantomimicspeeches, in which the Indian vainly endeavoured to get him tounderstand something having reference to the mountains beyond, for hepointed repeatedly towards them.

  "It seems to me that he would have us understand," said Tom, "that theroad lies before us, and the sooner we take ourselves off the better."

  Ned shook his head. "I don't think that likely; he seems rather to wishus to remain; more than once he has pointed to his tent, and beckoned usto enter."

  "Perhaps the old fellow wants us to become members of his tribe,"suggested Tom. "Evidently he cannot lead his braves on the war-path ashe was wont to do, and he wishes to make you chief in his room. Whatthink you? Shall we remain? The blue coat would suit you admirably."

  During this colloquy the old savage looked from one speaker to anotherwith great eagerness, as if trying to comprehend what they said, then,renewing his gesticulations, he succeeded at last in convincing thetravellers that he wished them not to pursue their journey any further,in the direction in which they were going. This was a request withwhich they did not, however, feel disposed to comply; but seeing that hewas particularly anxious that they should accept of his hospitality,they dismounted, and, fastening their horses to a tree close beside theopening of the chief's hut, they entered.

  The inside of this curious bee-hive of a dwelling was dirty and dark,besides being half-full of smoke, created by the pipe of a squaw--theold man's wife--who regaled herself there with the soothing weed. Therewere several dogs there also, and two particularly small infants inwooden cradles, who were tied up like mummies, and did nothing but stareright before them into space.

  "What's that?" inquired Tom, pointing to a basketful of smoking water.

  "It looks like a basket," replied Ned.

  "It _is_ a basket," remarked Tom, examining the article in question,"and, as I live, superb soup in it."

  "Tom," said Ned Sinton, solemnly, "have a care; if it is soup, dependupon it, dogs or rats form the basis of its composition."

  "Ned," said Tom, with equal solemnity, "eat, and ask no questions."

  Tom followed his own advice by accepting a dish of soup, with a largelump of meat in it, which was at that moment offered to him by the oldchief who also urged Ned Sinton to partake; but he declined, and,lighting his pipe, proceeded to enjoy a smoke, at the same time handingthe old man a plug of tobacco, which he accepted promptly, and began touse forthwith.

  While thus engaged, they had an opportunity of observing how the squawboiled water in a basket. Laying aside her pipe, she hauled out agoody-sized and very neatly-made basket of wicker-work, so closely wovenby her own ingenious hands, that it was perfectly water-tight; this shethree-quarters filled, and then put into it red-hot stones, which shebrought in from a fire kindled outside. The stones were thrown in insuccession, till the temperature was raised to the boiling point, andafterwards a little dead animal was put into the basket.

  The sight of this caused Tom Collins to terminate his meal somewhatabruptly, and induced Ned to advise him to try a little more.

  "No, thank you," replied Tom, lighting his pipe hastily, and taking up abow and several arrows, which he appeared to regard with more than usualinterest. The bow was beautifully made;--rather short, and tipped withhorn.

  The arrows were formed of two distinct pieces of wood spliced together,and were shod with flint; they were feathered in the usual way. All thearticles manufactured by these natives were neatly done, and evincedconsiderable skill in the use of their few and simple tools.

  After resting half-an-hour, the two friends rose to depart, and againthe old Indian manifested much anxiety to prevail on them to remain; butresisting all his entreaties, they mounted their horses and rode away,carrying with them the good wishes of the community, by the courtesy oftheir manners, and a somewhat liberal distribution of tobacco atparting.

  The country through which they passed became wilder at every step, foreach hour brought them visibly nearer the mountain-range, and towardsnight-fall they entered one of the smaller passes or ravines thatdivided the lower range of hills at which they first arrived. Here arugged precipice, from which projected pendent rocks and scrubby trees,rose abruptly on the right of the road, and a dense thicket ofunderwood, mingled with huge masses of fallen rock, lay on their left.We use the word road advisedly, for the broad highway of the floweringplains, over which the horsemen had just passed, narrowed at this spotas it entered the ravine, and was a pretty-well-defined path, over whichparties of diggers and wandering Indians occasionally passed.

  "Does not this wild spot remind you of the nursery tales we used toread?" said Ned, as they entered the somewhat gloomy defile, "which usedto begin, `Once upon a time--'"

  "Hist, Ned, is that a grizzly?"

  Both riders drew up abruptly, and grasped their rifles.

  "I hear nothing," whispered Ned.

  "It must have been imagination," said Tom, throwing his rifle carelesslyover his left arm, as they again advanced. The gloom of the locality,which was deepened by the rapidly-gathering shades of night, quietedtheir spirits, and induced them to ride on in silence. About fiftyy
ards further on, the rustling in the bushes was again heard, and bothtravellers pulled up and listened intently.

  "Pshaw!" cried Ned, at last, urging his horse forward, and throwing hispiece on his shoulder, "we are starting at the rustling of the nightwind; come, come, Tom, don't let us indulge superstitious feelings--"

  At that moment there was a crash in the bushes on both sides of them,and their horses reared wildly, as four men rushed upon them. Beforetheir steeds became manageable, they were each seized by a leg, andhurled from their saddles. In the fall, their rifles were thrown out oftheir grasp into the bushes; but this mattered little, for in a closestruggle pistols are better weapons. Seizing their revolvers, Ned andTom instantly sprang up, and fired at their assailants, but withouteffect, both being so much shaken by their fall. The robbers returnedthe fire, also without effect. In the scuffle, Ned was separated fromhis friend, and only knew that he maintained the fight manfully, fromthe occasional shots that were fired near him. His whole attention,however, had to be concentrated on the two stalwart ruffians with whomhe was engaged.

  Five or six shots were fired at a few yards' distance, quick aslightning, yet, strange to say, all missed. Then the taller of the twoopposed to Ned, hurled his revolver full in his face, and rushed at him.The pistol struck Ned on the chest, and almost felled him, but heretained his position, and met the highwayman with a well-directed blowof his fist right between the eyes. Both went down, under the impetusof the rush, and the second robber immediately sprang upon Ned, andseized him by the throat. But he little knew the strength of the manwith whom he had to deal. Our hero caught him in the iron grasp of hisright hand, while, with his left, he hurled aside the almost inanimateform of his first assailant; then, throwing the other on his back, heplaced his knee on his chest, and drew his bowie-knife.

  Even in the terrible passion of mortal combat, Ned shuddered at thethought of slaying a helpless opponent. He threw the knife aside, andstruck the man violently with his fist on the forehead, and then sprangup to rescue Tom who, although he had succeeded at the outset in fellingone of the robbers with the butt of his pistol, was still engaged indoubtful strife with a man of great size and power. When Ned came up,the two were down on their knees, each grasping the other's wrist inorder to prevent their bowie-knives from being used. Their struggleswere terrible; for each knew that the first who freed his right handwould instantly take the other's life. Ned settled the matter, however,by again using his fist, which he applied so promptly to the back of therobber's neck, that he dropped as if he had been shot.

  "Thank you--God bless you, Ned," gasped Tom, as soon as he recoveredbreath; "you have saved my life, for certainly I could not have held outa minute longer. The villain has all but broken my right arm."

  "Never mind," cried Ned, stooping down, and turning the stunned robberover on his face, "give me a hand, boy; we must not let the fellowsrecover and find themselves free to begin the work over again. Takethat fellow's neckcloth and tie his hands behind his back."

  Tom obeyed at once, and in a few minutes the four highwaymen were boundhand and foot, and laid at the side of the road.

  "Now," said Ned, "we must push on to the nearest settlement hot-haste,and bring a party out to escort--Halloo! Tom, are you wounded?"

  "Not badly--a mere cut on the head."

  "Why, your face is all covered with blood!"

  "It's only in consequence of my wiping it with a bloody handkerchief,then; but you can examine, and satisfy yourself."

  "The wound is but slight, I see," rejoined Ned, after a briefmanipulation of Tom's skull; "now, then, let us away."

  "We'll have to catch our horses first, and that won't be an easymatter."

  Tom was right. It cost them half-an-hour to secure them and recovertheir rifles and other arms, which had been scattered over the field ofbattle. On returning to the spot where the robbers lay, they found themall partially recovered, and struggling violently to free themselves.Three of them failed even to slacken their bonds, but the fourth, thepowerful man who had nearly overcome Tom Collins, had well-nigh freedhis hands when his captors came up.

  "Lie quiet," said Ned, in a low tone, "if you don't want the butt of myrifle on your skull."

  The man lay down instantly.

  "Tom, go and cut a stake six feet long, and I'll watch these fellowstill you come back."

  The stake was soon brought and lashed to the robber's back in such amanner that he was rendered utterly powerless. The others were securedin a similar manner, and then the two travellers rode forward at agallop.

  For nearly an hour they continued to advance without speaking or drawingrein. At the end of that time, while sweeping round the jutting base ofa precipitous rock, they almost ran into a band of horsemen who weretrotting briskly towards them. Both parties halted, and threw forwardtheir rifles, or drew their revolvers for instant use, gazing at eachother the while in silent surprise at the suddenness of their meeting.

  "Give in, ye villains," at last shouted a stern voice, "or we'll blow yeout o' the saddle. You've no chance; down your arms, I say."

  "Not until I know what right _you_ have to command us," replied Ned,somewhat nettled at the overbearing tone of his opponent. "We arepeaceable travellers, desiring to hurt no one; but if we were not,surely so large a party need not be afraid. We don't intend to runaway, still less do we intend to dispute your passage."

  The strangers lowered their fire-arms, as if half-ashamed at beingsurprised into a state of alarm by two men.

  "Who said we were `afraid,' young man?" continued the first speaker,riding up with his comrades, and eyeing the travellers narrowly. "Wherehave you come from, and how comes it that your clothes are torn, andyour faces covered with blood?"

  The party of horsemen edged forward, as he spoke, in such a manner as tosurround the two friends, but Ned, although he observed the movement,was unconcerned, as, from the looks of the party, he felt certain theywere good men and true.

  "You are a close interrogator for a stranger," he replied. "Perhaps youwill inform me where _you_ have come from, and what is your errand inthese lonesome places at this hour of the night?"

  "I'll tell ye wot it is, stranger," answered another of the party--abig, insolent sort of fellow--"we're out after a band o' scoundrels thathave infested them parts for a long time, an' it strikes me you knowmore about them than we do."

  "Perhaps you are right," answered Ned.

  "Mayhap they're not _very_, far off from where we're standin',"continued the man, laying his hand on Tom Collins's shoulder. Tom gavehim a look that induced him to remove the hand.

  "Right again," rejoined Ned, with a smile. "I know where the villainsare, and I'll lead you to them in an hour, if you choose to follow me."

  The men looked at each other in surprise.

  "You'll not object to some o' us ridin' before, an' some behind ye!"said the second speaker, "jist by way o' preventin' yer hosses fromrunnin' away; they looks a little skeary."

  "By no means," answered Ned, "lead on; but keep off the edge of thetrack till I call a halt."

  "Why so, stranger?"

  "Never mind, but do as I bid you."

  The tone in which this was said effectually silenced the man, and duringthe ride no further questions were asked. About a quarter-of-an-hourafterwards the moon rose, and they advanced at such a rapid pace that ina short time they were close upon the spot where the battle had takenplace. Just before reaching it Ned called a halt, and directed theparty to dismount and follow him on foot. Although a good dealsurprised, they obeyed without question; for our hero possessed, in aneminent degree, the power of constituting himself a leader among thosewith whom he chanced to come into contact.

  Fastening his horse to a tree, Ned led the men forward a hundred yards.

  "Are these the men you search for!" he inquired.

  "They are, sir," exclaimed one of the party, in surprise, as he stoopedto examine the features of the robbers, who lay where they had beenleft.<
br />
  "Halloo!" exclaimed Tom Collins, "I say, the biggest fellow's gone!Didn't we lay him hereabouts?"

  "Eh! dear me, yes; why, this is the very spot, I do believe--"

  All further remarks were checked at that moment by the sound of horses'hoofs approaching, and, almost before any one could turn round, ahorseman came thundering down the pass at full gallop. Uttering asavage laugh of derision, he discharged his pistol full into the centreof the knot of men as he passed, and, in another moment, was out ofsight. Several of the onlookers had presence of mind enough to drawtheir pistols and fire at the retreating figure, but apparently withouteffect.

  "It's him!" cried Tom Collins; "and he's mounted on your horse, Ned."

  "After him, lads!" shouted Ned, as he ran back towards the place wherethe horses were fastened. "Whose is the best horse?"

  "Hold on, stranger," said one of the men, as he ran up to Ned, "ye maysave yer wind. None o' the horses can overtake your one, I guess. Iwas lookin' at him as we came along. It would only be losin' time fornothin', an' he's miles ahead by this time."

  Ned Sinton felt that the man's remarks were too true, so he returned tothe spot where the remaining robbers lay, and found that the miners hadcut their fastenings, and were busily engaged in rebinding their handsbehind them, preparatory to carrying them back to their settlement. Itwas discovered that the lashings of one of the men had been partlysevered with a knife, and, as he could not have done it himself, it wasplain that the robber who had escaped must have done it, and that theopportune arrival of the party had prevented him from accomplishing hispurpose. How the man had broken his own bonds was a mystery that couldnot now be solved, but it was conjectured they must have been too weak,and that he had burst them by main strength.

  Another discovery was now made, namely, that one of the three robberssecured was no other than Black Jim himself; the darkness of the nighthad prevented Ned and Tom from making this discovery during the fight.

  In less time than we have taken to describe it, the robbers weresecured, and each was mounted behind one of his captors.

  "Ain't you goin' with us?" inquired one of the men, observing that NedSinton stood leaning on his rifle, as if he meant to remain behind.

  "No," answered Ned; "my companion and I have travelled far to-day,besides fighting a somewhat tough battle; we mean to camp here for thenight, and shall proceed to your settlement to-morrow."

  The men endeavoured to dissuade them from their purpose, but they wereboth fatigued, and persisted in their determination. The impressionthey had made, however, on their new friends was so favourable, that oneof their number, a Yankee, offered the loan of his horse to Ned, anoffer which the latter accepted thankfully, promising to return it safeand sound early on the following day. Five minutes later the sound ofthe retreating hoofs died away, and the travellers stood silently sideby side in the gloomy ravine.

  For a few minutes neither spoke; then Ned heaved a sigh, and, looking inhis companion's face with a serio-comically-sad expression, said:

  "It may not, perhaps, have occurred to you, Tom, but are you aware thatwe are a couple of beggars?"

  "If you use the term in its slang sense, and mean to insinuate that weare a couple of unfortunate beggars, I agree with you."

  "Well, I've no objection," rejoined Ned, "to your taking my words inthat sense; but I mean to say that, over and above that, we are real,veritable, _bona fide_ beggars, inasmuch as we have not a sixpence inthe world."

  Tom Collins's visage grew exceedingly long.

  "Our united purse," pursued Ned, "hung, as you are aware, at mysaddle-bow, and yon unmitigated villain who appropriated my good steed,is now in possession of all our hard-earned gold!"

  Tom's countenance became preternaturally grave, but he did not ventureto speak.

  "Now," continued Ned, forcing a smile, "there is nothing for it but tomake for the nearest diggings, commence work again, and postpone ourtravels to a future and more convenient season. We may laugh at it aswe please, my dear fellow, but there's no denying that we are in whatthe Yankees would call an `oncommon fix.'"

  Ned's remark as to "laughing at it," was altogether uncalled for andinappropriate, for his own smile might have been more correctly termed agrin, and nothing was further from Tom Collins's thoughts at that momentthan laughing.

  "Are the victuals gone too?" inquired Ned, hastily.

  Both turned their eyes towards Tom Collins's horse, which grazed hardby, and both heaved a sigh of relief on observing that the saddle-bagswere safe. This was a small drop of comfort in their otherwise bittercup, and they made the most of it. Each, as if by a common impulse,pretending that he cared very little about the matter, and assuming thatthe other stood in need of being cheered and comforted, went about thepreparations for encamping with a degree of reckless joviality thatinsensibly raised their spirits, not only up to but considerably abovethe natural level; and when at last they had spread out their viands,and lighted their fire and their pipes, they were, according to Tom'sassertion, "happy as kings."

  The choosing of a spot to encamp on formed the subject of an amicabledispute.

  "I recommend the level turf under this oak," said Ned, pointing to ahuge old tree, whose gnarled limbs covered a wide space of level sward.

  "It's too low," objected Tom, (Tom could always object--a quality which,while it acted like an agreeable dash of cayenne thrown into theconversation of some of his friends, proved to be sparks applied togunpowder in that of others;) "it's too low, and, doubtless, moist. Ithink that yonder pine, with its spreading branches and sweet-smellingcones, and carpet of moss below, is a much more fitting spot."

  "Now, who is to decide the question if I don't give in, Tom? For Iassume, of course, that you will never give in."

  At that moment an accident occurred which decided the question for them.It frequently happens that some of the huge, heavy branches of the oaksin America become so thoroughly dried and brittle by the intense heat ofsummer, that they snap off without a moment's warning, often when thereis not a breath of air sufficient to stir a leaf. This propensity is sowell-known to Californian travellers that they are somewhat careful inselecting their camping ground, yet, despite all their care, anoccasional life is lost by the falling of such branches.

  An event of this kind occurred at the present time. The words hadbarely passed Ned's lips, when a large limb of the oak beside which theystood snapt off with a loud report, and fell with a crash to the ground.

  "That settles it," said Tom, somewhat seriously, as he led his horsetowards the pine-tree, and proceeded to spread his blanket beneath itsbranches.

  In a few minutes the bright flame of their camp-fire threw a lurid glareon the trees and projecting cliffs of the wild pass, while they cookedand ate their frugal meal of jerked beef and biscuit. They conversedlittle during the repast or after it, for drowsiness began to steal overthem, and it was not long before they laid their heads, side by side, ontheir saddles, and murmuring "Good-night," forgot their troubles in theembrace of deep, refreshing slumber.