The Golden Dream: Adventures in the Far West

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

  A CURIOUS AND VALUABLE DRAUGHT--LYNCH LAW APPLIED--BLACK JIM'SCONFESSION--NED BECOMES A PAINTER, AND FINDS THE PROFESSION PROFITABLEAS WELL AS AMUSING--THE FIRST PORTRAIT.

  Next morning the travellers were up and away by daybreak, and in theafternoon they came upon a solitary miner who was prospecting in a gulchnear the road-side.

  This word gulch is applied to the peculiarly abrupt, short ravines,which are a characteristic feature in Californian more than in any othermountains. The weather was exceedingly hot, and the man took off hiscap and wiped his streaming brow as he looked at the travellers whoapproached him.

  "Ha! you've got water there, I see," cried Tom Collins, leaping off hishorse, seizing a cup which stood on the ground full of clear water, anddraining it eagerly.

  "Stop!" cried the man, quickly.

  "Why!" inquired Tom, smacking his lips.

  The miner took the empty cup and gazed inquiringly into it.

  "Humph! you've drunk it, every grain."

  "Drop, you mean," suggested Tom, laughing at the man's expression; "ofcourse I have, and why not? There's plenty more of the same tap here."

  "Oh, I wouldn't mind the water," replied the man, "if ye had only leftthe gold-dust behind, but you've finished that too."

  "You _don't_ mean it!" gasped Tom, while the questions flashed acrosshis mind--Is gold-dust poison? And if not, is it digestible? "How--howmuch have I swallowed?"

  "Only about two dollars--it don't signify," answered the man, joining inthe burst of laughter to which Ned and Tom gave way on thisannouncement.

  "I'm afraid we must owe you the sum, then," said Ned, recovering hiscomposure, "for we have only one dollar left, having been robbed lastnight; but as we mean to work in this neighbourhood, I dare say you willtrust us."

  The man agreed to this, and having directed the travellers to thesettlement of Weaver Creek, resumed his work, while they proceeded ontheir way. Tom's digestion did not suffer in consequence of his goldendraught, and we may here remark, for the benefit of the curious, that henever afterwards experienced any evil effects from it. We may furtheradd, that he did not forget to discharge the debt.

  After half-an-hour's ride they came in sight of a few stragglingdiggers, from whom they learned that the settlement, or village, or townof Weaver Creek was about two miles further on, and in a quarter of anhour they reached it.

  The spot on which it stood was wild and romantic, embosomed among loftywooded hills, whose sides were indented by many a rich ravine, andseamed by many a brawling water-course. Here digging was, as the minershave it, in full blast. Pick, and shovel, and cradle, and long-tom, andprospecting-pan--all were being plied with the utmost energy and withunwearied perseverance. The whole valley was cut up and converted intoa net-work of holes and mud-heaps, and the mountain slopes were coveredwith the cabins, huts, and canvas tents of the miners.

  About the centre of the settlement, which was a very scattered one,stood a log-house or cabin, of somewhat larger dimensions than thegenerality of those around it. This was the grand hotel, restaurant,and gambling-house of the place, besides being the scene of the trialsand executions that occasionally took place. Some such work was goingforward when our travellers rode up, for the area in front of the hotelwas covered with a large concourse of miners.

  "I suspect they are about to try the poor wretches who attacked us lastnight," said Ned, dismounting at the door of the house.

  He had scarcely spoken, when a couple of men ran towards them.

  "Here you are, strangers," they cried, "come along and bear witnessagin' them blackguards; they're just about to be strung up. We'll lookafter your horses."

  The duty was a disagreeable one, but it could not be avoided, so Ned andTom suffered themselves to be led into the centre of the ring where thethree culprits were standing already pinioned, and with the ropes roundtheir necks. For a short time silence was obtained while Ned stated thecircumstances of the robbery, and also the facts regarding the murder ofwhich Black Jim had been previously found guilty. Then there was ageneral shout of "String 'em up!" "Up wi' the varmints!" and suchphrases; but a short respite was granted in consequence of Black Jimexpressing a desire to speak with Ned Sinton.

  "What have you to say to me?" inquired Ned, in a low tone, as he walkedclose up to the wretched man, who, although his minutes on earth werenumbered, looked as if he were absolutely indifferent to his fate.

  "I've only to say," answered the culprit, sternly, "that of all thepeople I leaves behind me in this world there's but one I wish I hadn'tbin bad to, and that's Kate Morgan. You know something of her, thoughyou've never seen her--I know that. Tell her I--no, tell her she'llfind the gold I robbed her of at the foot o' the pine-tree behind thetent she's livin' in jist now. An' tell her that her little sister'snot dead, though she don't believe me. I took the child to--"

  "Come, come, ha' done wi' yer whisperin'," cried several of thebystanders, who were becoming impatient of delay.

  "Have patience," said Ned, raising his hand. "The man is telling mesomething of importance."

  "I've done," growled Black Jim, scowling on the crowd with a look ofhate; "I wish I hadn't said so much."

  The rope was tightened as he spoke, and Ned, turning abruptly on hisheel, hurried away with his friend from the spot just as the threerobbers were run up and suspended from the branch of the tree, beneathand around which the crowd stood.

  Entering the inn, and seating themselves in a retired corner of thecrowded gambling-room, Ned and Tom proceeded to discuss their presentprospects and future plans in a frame of mind that was by no meansenviable. They were several hundreds of miles distant from the scene oftheir first home at the diggings, without a dollar in their pockets, andonly a horse between them. With the exception of the clothes on theirbacks, and Ned's portfolio of drawing materials, which he always carriedslung across his shoulder, they had nothing else in the world. Theirfirst and most urgent necessity was supper, in order to procure which itbehoved them to sell Tom's horse. This was easily done, as, onapplication to the landlord, they were directed to a trader who was onthe point of setting out on an expedition to Sacramento city, and whoreadily purchased the horse for less than half its value.

  Being thus put in possession of funds sufficient at least for a fewdays, they sat down to supper with relieved minds, and afterwards wentout to stroll about the settlement, and take a look at the variousdiggings. The miners here worked chiefly at the bars or sand-banksthrown up in various places by the river which coursed through theirvalley; but the labour was severe, and the return not sufficient toattract impatient and sanguine miners, although quite remunerativeenough to those who wrought with steady perseverance. The district hadbeen well worked, and many of the miners were out prospecting for newfields of labour. A few companies had been formed, and these, by unitedaction and with the aid of long-toms, were well rewarded, but singlediggers and pan-washers were beginning to become disheartened.

  "Our prospects are not bright," observed Tom, sitting down on a rockclose to the hut of a Yankee who was delving busily in a hole hard by.

  "True," answered Ned, "in one sense they are not bright, but in anothersense they are, for I never yet, in all my travels, beheld so beautifuland bright a prospect of land and water as we have from this spot. Justlook at it, Tom; forget your golden dreams for a little, if you can, andlook abroad upon the splendid face of nature."

  Ned's eye brightened as he spoke, for his love and admiration of thebeauties and charms of nature amounted almost to a passion. Tom, also,was a sincere admirer of lovely, and especially of wild, scenery,although he did not express his feelings so enthusiastically.

  "Have you got your colours with you?" he inquired.

  "I have; and if you have patience enough to sit here for half-an-hourI'll sketch it. If not, take a stroll, and you'll find me here when youreturn."

  "I can admire nature for even longer than that period, but I cannotconsent to watc
h a sketcher of nature even for five minutes, so I'lltake a stroll."

  In a few minutes Ned, with book on knee and pencil in hand, was busilyengaged in transferring the scene to paper, oblivious of gold, andprospects, and everything else, and utterly ignorant of the fact thatthe Yankee digger, having become curious as to what the stranger couldbe about, had quitted his hole, and now stood behind him quietly lookingover his shoulder.

  The sketch was a very beautiful one, for, in addition to the variedcharacter of the scenery and the noble background of the Sierra Nevada,which here presented some of its wildest and most fantastic outlines,the half-ruined hut of the Yankee, with the tools and other articlesscattered around it, formed a picturesque foreground. We have elsewhereremarked that our hero was a good draughtsman. In particular, he had afine eye for colour, and always, when possible, made coloured sketchesduring his travels in California. On the present occasion, the richwarm glow of sunset was admirably given, and the Yankee stood gazing atthe work, transfixed with amazement and delight. Ned first became awareof his proximity by the somewhat startling exclamation, uttered close tohis ear--

  "Wall, stranger, you _air_ a screamer, that's a fact!"

  "I presume you mean that for a compliment," said Ned, looking up with asmile at the tall, wiry, sun-burnt, red-flannel-shirted, straw-hattedcreature that leaned on his pick-axe beside him.

  "No, I don't; I ain't used to butter nobody. I guess you've bin raisedto that sort o' thing?"

  "No, I merely practise it as an amateur," answered Ned, resuming hiswork.

  "Now, that is cur'ous," continued the Yankee; "an' I'm kinder sorry tohear't, for if ye was purfessional I'd give ye an order."

  Ned almost laughed outright at this remark, but he checked himself asthe idea flashed across him that he might perhaps make his pencil usefulin present circumstances.

  "I'm not professional as yet," he said, gravely; "but I have noobjection to become so if art is encouraged in these diggings."

  "I guess it will be, if you shew yer work. Now, what'll ye ax for thatbit!"

  This was a home question, and a poser, for Ned had not the least idea ofwhat sum he ought to ask for his work, and at the same time he had astrong antipathy to that species of haggling, which is usually prefacedby the seller, with the reply, "What'll ye give?" There was no othermeans, however, of ascertaining the market-value of his sketch, so heput the objectionable question.

  "I'll give ye twenty dollars, slick off."

  "Very good," replied Ned, "it shall be yours in ten minutes."

  "An' I say, stranger," continued the Yankee, while Ned put the finishingtouches to his work, "will ye do the inside o' my hut for the samemoney?"

  "I will," replied Ned.

  The Yankee paused for a few seconds, and then added--

  "I'd like to git myself throwd into the bargain, but I guess ye'll askmore for that."

  "No, I won't; I'll do it for the same sum."

  "Thank'ee; that's all square. Ye see, I've got a mother in Ohio State,an' she'd give her ears for any scrap of a thing o' me or my new home;an' if ye'll git 'em both fixed off by the day arter to-morrow, I'llsend 'em down to Sacramento by Sam Scott, the trader. I'll rig out andfix up the hut to-morrow mornin', so if ye come by breakfast-time I'llbe ready."

  Ned promised to be there at the appointed hour, as he rose and handedhim the sketch, which the man, having paid the stipulated sum, carriedaway to his hut with evident delight.

  "Halloo, I say," cried Ned.

  "Wall?" answered the Yankee, stopping with a look of concern, as if hefeared the artist had repented of his bargain.

  "Mind you tell no one my prices, for, you see, I've not had time toconsider about them yet."

  "All right; mum's the word," replied the man, vanishing into his littlecabin just as Tom Collins returned from his ramble.

  "Halloo, Ned, what's that I hear about prices? I hope you're notoffering to speculate in half-finished holes, or anything of that sort,eh?"

  "Sit down here, my boy, and I'll tell you all about it."

  Tom obeyed, and, with a half-surprised and more than half-amusedexpression, listened to his companion's narration of the scene that hadjust taken place, and of the plan which he had formed in his mind. Thisplan was carried out the following day.

  By daybreak Ned was up preparing his drawing materials; then he and Tombreakfasted at the _table d'hote_, after which the latter went to huntfor a suitable log-hut, in which to carry on their joint labours, whilethe former proceeded to fulfil his engagement. Their night's lodgingand breakfast made a terribly large gap in their slender fortune, forprices at the time happened to be enormously high, in consequence ofexpected supplies failing to arrive at the usual time. The bill at thehotel was ten dollars a day per man; and provisions of all kinds were sodear, that the daily earnings of the miners barely sufficed to find themin the necessaries of life. It therefore behoved our friends to obtaina private dwelling and remunerative work as fast as possible.

  On reaching the little log-hut, Ned found the Yankee ready to receivehim. He wore a clean new red-flannel shirt, with a blue silk kerchiefround the throat; a broad-brimmed straw hat, corduroys, and fisherman'slong boots. To judge from his gait, and the self-satisfied expressionof his bronzed countenance, he was not a little proud of his personalappearance.

  While Ned arranged his paper and colours, and sharpened the point of hispencil, the Yankee kept up a running commentary on men and things ingeneral, rocking himself on a rudely-constructed chair the while, andsmoking his pipe.

  The hut was very small--not more than twelve feet by eight, and justhigh enough inside to permit of a six-foot man grazing the beams when hewalked erect. But, although small, it was exceedingly comfortable. Itsowner was his own architect and builder, being a jack-of-all-trades, andeverything about the wooden edifice betokened the hand of a thoroughworkman, who cared not for appearance, but was sensitively alive tocomfort. Comfort was stamped in unmistakeable characters on everyarticle of furniture, and on every atom that entered into thecomposition of the Yankee's hut. The logs of which it was built wereundressed; they were not even barked, but those edges of them that laytogether were fitted and bevelled with such nicety that the keenest andmost searching blast of north wind failed to discover an entrance, andwas driven baffled and shrieking from the walls. The small fire-placeand chimney, composed of mud and dry grass, were rude in appearance; butthey were substantial, and well calculated for the work they had toperform. The seats, of which there were four--two chairs, a bench, anda stool--were of the plainest wood, and the simplest form; but they weresolid as rocks, and no complaining creak, when heavy men sat down onthem, betokened bad or broken constitutions. The little table--two feetby sixteen inches--was in all respects worthy of the chairs. At one endof the hut there was a bed-place, big enough for two; it was variouslytermed a crib, a shelf, a tumble-in, and a bunk. Its owner called it a"snoosery." This was a model of plainness and comfort. It was a mereshell about two and a half feet broad, projecting from the wall, towhich it was attached on one side, the other side being supported by twowooden legs a foot high. A plank at the side, and another at the foot,in conjunction with the walls of the cottage, converted the shelf intoan oblong box. But the mattress of this rude couch was formed ofbuffalo-skins, covered with thick, long luxurious hair; above which werespread two large green mackinaw blankets of the thickest description;and the canvas pillow-case was stuffed with the softest down, purchasedfrom the wild-fowl of California with leaden coin, transmitted throughthe Yankee's unerring rifle.

  There was a fishing-rod in one corner, a rifle in another, a cupboard ina third; poles and spears, several unfinished axe-handles, and a smallfishing-net lay upon the rafters overhead; while various miscellaneousarticles of clothing, and implements for mining hung on pegs from thewalls, or lay scattered about everywhere; but in the midst of apparentconfusion comfort reigned supreme, for nothing was placed so as to comein one's way; everything was cleverly arranged, s
o as to _lie close_ and_fit in_; no article or implement was superfluous; no necessary of aminer's life was wanting; an air of thorough completeness invested thehut and everything about it; and in the midst of all sat the presidinggenius of the place, with his long legs comfortably crossed, the tobaccowreaths circling round his lantern jaws, the broad-brimmed straw hatcocked jauntily on one side, his arms akimbo, and his rather languidblack eyes gazing at Ned Sinton with an expression of comfortableself-satisfaction and assurance that was quite comforting to behold.

  "Wall, mister, if you're ready, I guess ye'd better fire away."

  "One second more and I shall commence," replied Ned; "I beg pardon, mayI ask your name?"

  "Jefferson--Abel Jefferson to command," answered the Yankee, relightingthe large clay pipe which he had just filled, and stuffing down theglowing tobacco with the end of his little finger as slowly anddeliberately as though that member were a salamander. "What's yourn!"

  "Edward Sinton. Now, Mr Jefferson, in what position do you intend tosit?"

  "Jest as I'm settin' now."

  "Then you must sit still, at least for a few minutes at a time, becauseI cannot sketch you while you keep rocking so."

  "No! now that's a pity, for I never sits no other way when I'm to home;an' it would look more nat'ral an' raal like to the old 'ooman if I wasdrawd rockin'. However, fire away, and sing out when ye want me tostop. Mind ye, put in the whole o' me. None o' yer half-lengths. Inever goes in for half-lengths. I always goes the whole length, an' aleetle shave more. See that ye don't forget the mole on the side o' mynose. My poor dear old mother wouldn't believe it was me if the molewarn't there as big as life, with the two hairs in the middle of it.An' I say, mister, mind that I hate flatterers, so don't flatter me nohow."

  "It wouldn't be easy to do so," thought Ned, as he plied his pencil, buthe did not deem it advisable to give expression to his thoughts.

  "Now, then, sit still for a moment," said Ned.

  The Yankee instantly let the front legs of his chair come to the groundwith a bang, and gazed right before him with that intensely-grave,cataleptic stare that is wont to overspread the countenances of men whenthey are being photographed.

  Ned laughed inwardly, and proceeded with his work in silence.

  "I guess there's Sam at the door," said Abel Jefferson, blowing a cloudof smoke from his mouth that might have made a small cannon envious.

  The door flew open as he spoke, and Sam Scott, the trader, strode intothe hut. He was a tall, raw-boned man, with a good-humoured butintensely impudent expression of countenance, and tanned to a rich darkbrown by constant exposure to the weather in the prosecution of hisarduous calling.

  "Halloo! stranger, what air _you_ up to!" inquired Sam, sitting down onthe bench behind Ned, and looking over his shoulder.

  Ned might perhaps have replied to this question despite itsunceremoniousness, had not the Yankee followed it up by spitting overhis shoulder into the fire-place. As it was, he kept silence, and wenton with his work.

  "Why I _do_ declare," continued Sam, "if you ain't _photogged_ here assmall as life, mole an' all, like nothin'. I say, stranger, ain't you aBritisher?"

  Sam again followed up his question with a shot at the fire-place.

  "Yes," answered Ned, somewhat angrily, "and I am so much of a Britisher,that I positively object to your spitting past my ear."

  "No, you don't, do you? Now, that is cur'ous. I do believe if youBritishers had your own way, you'd not let us spit at all. What air youbetter than we, that you hold your heads so high, and give yourselvessich airs! that's what _I_ want to know."

  Ned's disgust having subsided, he replied--

  "If we do hold our heads high, it is because we are straightforward, andnot afraid to look any man in the face. As to giving ourselves airs,you mistake our natural reserve and dislike to obtrude ourselves uponstrangers for pride; and in this respect, at least, if in no other, weare better than you--we don't spit all over each other's floors andclose past each other's noses."

  "Wall, now, stranger, if you choose to be resarved, and we choose to befree-an'-easy, where's the differ? We've a right to have our owncustoms, and do as we please as well as you, I guess."

  "Hear, hear!" cried Abel Jefferson, commencing to rock himself again,and to smoke more violently than ever. "What say ye to that, mister?"

  "Only this," answered Ned, as he put the finishing touches to hissketch, "that whereas we claim only the right to do to and withourselves what we please, you Yankees claim the right to do to and with_everybody, else_ what you please. I have no objection whatever to yourspitting, but I do object to your spitting over my shoulder."

  "Do you?" said Sam Scott, in a slightly sarcastic tone, "an' suppose Idon't stop firin' over your shoulder, what then?"

  "I'll make you," replied Ned, waxing indignant at the man's coolimpudence.

  "How?" inquired Sam.

  Ned rose and shook back the flaxen curls from his flushed face, as hereplied, "By opening the door and kicking you out of the hut."

  He repented of the hasty expression the moment it passed his lips, so heturned to Jefferson and handed him the drawing for inspection. SamScott remained seated. Whether he felt that Ned was thoroughly capableof putting his threat in execution or not we cannot tell, but he evincedno feeling of anger as he continued the conversation.

  "I guess if you did that, you'd have to fight me, and you'd find mepretty smart with the bowie-knife an' the revolver, either in the darkor in daylight."

  Sam here referred to the custom prevalent among the Yankees in someparts of the United States of duelling with bowie-knives or with pistolsin a darkened room.

  "And suppose," answered Ned, with a smile--"suppose that I refused tofight, what then?"

  "Why, then, you'd be called a coward all over the diggin's, and you'dhave to fight to clear your character."

  "And suppose I didn't care a straw for being called a coward, andwouldn't attempt to clear my character?"

  "Why, then, I guess, I'd have to kick you in public till you wereobligated to fight."

  "But suppose still further," continued Ned, assuming the air of aphilosopher discussing a profoundly-abstruse point in science--"supposethat, being the stronger man, I should prevent you from kicking me byknocking you down, what then?"

  "Why, then, I'd be compelled to snuff you out slick off?"

  Sam Scott smiled as he spoke, and touched the handle of his revolver.

  "Which means," said Ned, "that you would become a cold-bloodedmurderer."

  "So you Britishers call it."

  "And so Judge Lynch would call it, if I am not mistaken, which wouldinsure your being snuffed out too, pretty effectually."

  "Wrong, you air, stranger," replied the trader; "Judge Lynch regardsaffairs of honour in a very different light, I guess. I don't thinkhe'd scrag me for that."

  Further investigation of this interesting topic was interrupted by AbelJefferson, who had been gazing in wrapt admiration at the picture for atleast five minutes, pronouncing the work "fuss rate," emphatically.

  "It's jest what'll warm up the old 'ooman's heart, like a big fire in awinter day. Won't she screech when she claps her peepers on't, an' goyellin' round among the neighbours, shewin' the pictur' o' `her boyAbel,' an' his house at the gold diggin's?"

  The two friends commented pretty freely on the merits of the work,without the smallest consideration for the feelings of the artist.Fortunately they had nothing but good to say about it. Sam Scott,indeed, objected a little to the sketchy manner in which some of thesubordinate accessories were touched in, and remarked that the two largehairs on the mole were almost invisible; but Jefferson persisted inmaintaining that the work was "fuss rate," and faultless.

  The stipulated sum was paid; and Ned, bidding his new friendsgood-morning, returned to the inn, for the purpose of discussing dinnerand plans with Tom Collins.