by Mayne Reid
main river--which last wewere frequently compelled to ascend for miles before we could find acrossing place.
Although fortunate in having good mules, I do not think that our travelaveraged more than fifteen miles a day, in a direct line from where westarted, though the actual distance travelled would be over thirty!
Late in the evening of our third day out, our pack-mule, in fording astream, got entangled among the branches of a fallen tree; and, whiletrying to extricate the animal out of its dilemma, Hiram was pulled intothe water, and jammed against a limb--so as to suffer a serious injury.
That night we encamped by the stream--near the place where the accidenthad happened; and, about midnight, when I was changing my mule--Monte--to a fresh feeding place, the animal became suddenly alarmed atsomething, and broke away from me--pulling the lazo through my hands,till not only was the skin peeled clean off my fingers, but one or twoof them were cut clean to the bone. I reproached myself for not soonerhaving had the sense to let go; but, as usual, the reproach came afterthe damage had been done.
The mule, on getting free, started over the ridge as though she had beenfired from a cannon--while Poker and Uker, taking the hint from theircompanion, broke their tethers at the same instant, and followed at alike rate of speed.
I returned to Hiram, and communicated the unpleasant intelligence: thatthe mules had stampeded.
"That's a very foolish remark," said he, "for you know I'm not deaf."
This answer did not fall very graciously on my ear; but having made upmy mind, to remain in good humour with my companion as long as possible,I pretended not to notice it. I simply said in reply, that I thoughtthere must either be a grizzly bear, or Indians, near us--to havestampeded the mules.
"Of course thar is," said Hiram, in a tone more harsh than I had everbefore heard him use.
I fancied that he was foolish enough to blame me for the loss of themules; and was a little vexed with him, for the way in which he hadanswered me.
I said nothing more; but, stepping aside I bandaged up my fingers, andtried to obtain a little sleep. At sunrise I got up; and, having firstdressed my wounded fingers, I kindled a fire, and made some coffee.
"Come, Hiram!" said I, in an encouraging tone, "turn out, mate! We mayhave a hard day's work in looking for the mules; but no doubt we'll findthem all right."
"Find them yourself," he answered. "I shan't look for them."
I had much difficulty in controlling my temper, and restraining myselffrom giving Hiram an uncourteous reply.
To avoid subjecting myself to any more of his ill-natured speeches, Ireturned to the fire, and ate my breakfast alone.
While engaged in this operation, I pondered in my own mind what was bestto be done. It ended by my coming to the determination to go in searchof my mule Monte; and, having found her, to return to my partners on theYuba. I felt certain, that should I attempt farther to prosecute theexpedition along with Hiram, and he continue to make the disagreeableobservations of which he had already given me a sample, there wouldcertainly be a row between us. In some parts of the world, where peoplethink themselves highly enlightened, two men getting angry with oneanother, and using strong language, is not an unusual occurrence; andvery seldom results in anything, more than both proving themselvessnarling curs. But it is not so in California, where men becomeseriously in earnest--often over trifling affairs; and had a row takenplace between my comrade and myself, I knew that only one story wouldhave been told concerning it.
I finished my breakfast; and, leaving Hiram in his blankets, I startedoff over the ridge to find Monte. I searched for the mules about sixhours; and having been unsuccessful in my search, I returned to the campwithout them.
Hiram was still wrapped up in his blanket, just as I had left him; andthen the truth suddenly flashed into my dark mind, like lightning over astarless sky.
Hiram was ill, and I had neglected him!
The bruise on his side, received against the fallen tree, was moreserious than I had supposed; and this had misled me. He had made nocomplaint.
The moment I became aware of my mistake, I hastened to his side.
"Hiram," said I, "you are ill? Forgive me, if you can. I fear that mythoughtlessness, and passionate temper, have caused you much suffering."
He made no reply to my conciliatory speech. He was in a very highfever; and asked faintly for water.
I took the tin vessel, in which I had made the coffee; and having filledit at the stream, gave him a pint cup full.
He drank the water eagerly; and then found voice to talk to me. He saidthat he was glad that I had returned, for he wished to tell me where hehad buried some gold, and where his wife and child were living, andcould be written to.
He spoke with great difficulty; and soon called for more water.
I again filled the cup nearly full, and handed it to him. Afterdrinking every drop that was in it, he requested me to give him thecoffee-can; but, thinking that he had drunk enough water, I declinedacceding to his request; and tried to persuade him, that too much waterwould do him a serious injury. He only answered me by clamouring formore water.
"Wait but a little while," said I. "In a few minutes you shall havesome more."
"Give it me now! Give it me now! Will you not give me some now?"
Knowing that the quantity he had already drunk, could not fail to beinjurious to him, I refused to let him have any more.
"Give me some water!" he exclaimed, with more energy of voice andmanner, than I had ever known him to exhibit.
I replied by a negative shake of the head.
"Inhuman wretch!" he angrily cried out. "Do you refuse? Refuse to givea dying man a drop of water!"
I once more endeavoured to convince him, that there would be danger inhis drinking any more water--that there was yet a chance for him tolive; but, while talking to him, I perceived a change suddenly stealingover his features. He partly raised himself into a sitting position;and then commenced cursing me, in the most horrible language I had everheard from the lips of a dying man!
After continuing at this for several minutes he sank back upon thegrass, and lay silent and motionless.
Allowing a short interval to elapse, I approached the prostrate form,and gently laid my hand upon his forehead. I shall never forget thesensation that thrilled through me, as I touched his skin. It wasalready cold and clammy--convincing me that my prospecting companion hadceased to live!
I passed the whole of the following day in trying to recover the mules.Had I succeeded, I would have taken the body to some camp of diggers,and buried it in a Christian manner.
As this was not possible, with my lame hands, I scooped out a shallowgrave; and buried the body as I best could.
Having completed my melancholy task, I started afoot to rejoin mypartners on the Yuba--where I arrived--after several days spent intoilsome wandering--footsore and dispirited.
The adventure had taught me two lessons. Never to refuse any one adrink of water when I could give it; and to be ever after careful ininterpreting the language of others--lest some wrong might be fancied,where none was intended.
Volume One, Chapter XX.
RICHARD GUINANE.
On my return to the Yuba, with the sad tale of my comrade's death--andthe consequent unfortunate termination of our prospecting scheme--Hiram's partners made search for his gold, in every place where it waslikely to have been buried.
Their search proved fruitless. The precious treasure could not befound. Unfortunately, none of us knew where his family resided. He hadbeen incidentally heard to say, that he came from the state of Delaware;but this was not sufficient clue, to enable any of us to communicatewith his relatives.
His wife has probably watched long for his return; and may yet believehim guilty of that faithlessness--too common to men who have left theirhomes on a similar errand.
As our claim on the Yuba was well nigh exhausted, we dissolvedpartnership--each intending to proceed somewhere else on his ownaccount.
Young Johnson--who had been my companion across the plains--never before having been so long away from his parents, determined upongoing home to them, and there remaining all the winter.
I had heard good accounts of the southern "placers," which, being of thesort known as "dry diggings," were best worked during the rainy season.Three or four men, from the same "bar" where we had been engaged, wereabout starting for the Mocolumne; and, after bidding James Johnson andmy other mates a friendly farewell, I set out along with this party.
After reaching our destination, I joined partnership with two of mytravelling companions; and, during the greater part of the winter, weworked upon Red Gulch--all three of us doing well.
Having exhausted our claim, my two partners left me both to return hometo New York. Being thus left once more alone, I determined uponproceeding still farther south--to the Tuolumne river, there to try myfortune during the summer.
On my way to the Tuolumne, I fell in with a
