Tales of Daring and Danger

by G. A. Henty

  WHITE-FACED DICK,

  A STORY OF PINE-TREE GULCH.

  How Pine-tree Gulch got its name no one knew, for in the early daysevery ravine and hillside was thickly covered with pines. It may be thata tree of exceptional size caught the eye of the first explorer, that hecamped under it, and named the place in its honour; or, may be, somefallen giant lay in the bottom and hindered the work of the firstprospectors. At any rate, Pine-tree Gulch it was, and the name was asgood as any other. The pine-trees were gone now. Cut up for firing, orfor the erection of huts, or the construction of sluices, but thehillside was ragged with their stumps.

  The principal camp was at the mouth of the Gulch, where the littlestream, which scarce afforded water sufficient for the cradles in thedry season, but which was a rushing torrent in winter, joined the Yuba.The best ground was at the junction of the streams, and lay, indeed, inthe Yuba valley rather than in the Gulch. At first most gold had beenfound higher up, but there was here comparatively little depth down tothe bed-rock, and as the ground became exhausted the miners moved downtowards the mouth of the Gulch. They were doing well as a whole, howwell no one knew, for miners are chary of giving information as to whatthey are making; still, it was certain they were doing well, for thebars were doing a roaring trade, and the store-keepers never refusedcredit--a proof in itself that the prospects were good.

  The flat at the mouth of the Gulch was a busy scene, every foot was goodpaying stuff, for in the eddy, where the torrents in winter rushed downinto the Yuba, the gold had settled down and lay thick among the gravel.But most of the parties were sinking, and it was a long way down to thebed-rock; for the hills on both sides sloped steeply, and the Yuba musthere at one time have rushed through a narrow gorge, until, in somewild freak, it brought down millions of tons of gravel, and resumed itscourse seventy feet above its former level.

  A quarter of a mile higher up a ledge of rock ran across the valley, andover it in the old time the Yuba had poured in a cascade seventy feetdeep into the ravine. But the rock now was level with the gravel, onlyshowing its jagged points here and there above it. This ledge had beeninvaluable to the diggers: without it they could only have sunk theirshafts with the greatest difficulty, for the gravel would have been fullof water, and even with the greatest pains in puddling and timber-workthe pumps would scarcely have sufficed to keep it down as it rose in thebottom of the shafts. But the miners had made common cause together, andgiving each so many ounces of gold or so many day's work had erected adam thirty feet high along the ledge of rock, and had cut a channel forthe Yuba along the lower slopes of the valley. Of course, when the rainset in, as everybody knew, the dam would go, and the river diggings mustbe abandoned till the water subsided and a fresh dam was made; but therewere two months before them yet, and every one hoped to be down to thebed-rock before the water interrupted their work.

  The hillside, both in the Yuba Valley and for some distance alongPine-tree Gulch, was dotted by shanties and tents; the formerconstructed for the most part of logs roughly squared, the walls beingsome three feet in height, on which the sharp sloping roof was placed,thatched in the first place with boughs, and made all snug, perhaps,with an old sail stretched over all. The camp was quiet enough duringthe day. The few women were away with their washing at the pools, aquarter of a mile up the Gulch, and the only persons to be seen aboutwere the men told off for cooking for their respective parties.

  But in the evening the camp was lively. Groups of men in red shirts andcorded trousers tied at the knee, in high boots, sat round blazingfires, and talked of their prospects or discussed the news of the luckat other camps. The sound of music came from two or three plankerections which rose conspicuously above the huts of the diggers, andwere bright externally with the glories of white and coloured paints. Toand from these men were always sauntering, and it needed not the clinkof glasses and the sound of music to tell that they were the bars of thecamp.

  Here, standing at the counter, or seated at numerous small tables, menwere drinking villainous liquor, smoking and talking, and paying butscant attention to the strains of the fiddle or the accordion, save whensome well-known air was played, when all would join in a boisterouschorus. Some were always passing in or out of a door which led into aroom behind. Here there was comparative quiet, for men were gambling,and gambling high.

  Going backwards and forwards with liquors into the gambling-room of theImperial Saloon, which stood just where Pine-tree Gulch opened into Yubavalley, was a lad, whose appearance had earned for him the name ofWhite-faced Dick.

  White-faced Dick was not one of those who had done well at Pine-treeGulch; he had come across the plains with his father, who had died whenhalf-way over, and Dick had been thrown on the world to shift forhimself. Nature had not intended him for the work, for he was adelicate, timid lad; what spirits he originally had having been yearsbefore beaten out of him by a brutal father. So far, indeed, Dick wasthe better rather than the worse for the event which had left him anorphan.

  They had been travelling with a large party for mutual security againstIndians and Mormons, and so long as the journey lasted Dick had got onfairly well. He was always ready to do odd jobs, and as the draughtcattle were growing weaker and weaker, and every pound of weight was ofimportance, no one grudged him his rations in return for his services;but when the company began to descend the slopes of the Sierra Nevadathey began to break up, going off by twos and threes to the diggings, ofwhich they heard such glowing accounts. Some, however, kept straight onto Sacramento, determining there to obtain news as to the doings at allthe different places, and then to choose that which seemed to offer thebest prospects of success.

  Dick proceeded with them to the town, and there found himself alone. Hiscompanions were absorbed in the busy rush of population, and each had somuch to provide and arrange for, that none gave a thought to thesolitary boy. However, at that time no one who had a pair of hands,however feeble, to work need starve in Sacramento; and for some weeksDick hung around the town doing odd jobs, and then, having saved a fewdollars, determined to try his luck at the diggings, and started on footwith a shovel on his shoulder and a few day's provisions slung acrossit.

  Arrived at his destination, the lad soon discovered that gold-diggingwas hard work for brawny and seasoned men, and after a few feebleattempts in spots abandoned as worthless he gave up the effort, andagain began to drift; and even in Pine-tree Gulch it was not difficultto get a living. At first he tried rocking cradles, but the work was farharder than it appeared. He was standing ankle deep in water frommorning till night, and his cheeks grew paler, and his strength, insteadof increasing, seemed to fade away. Still, there were jobs within hisstrength. He could keep a fire alight and watch a cooking-pot, he couldcarry up buckets of water or wash a flannel shirt, and so he struggledon, until at last some kind-hearted man suggested to him that he shouldtry to get a place at the new saloon which was about to be opened.

  "You are not fit for this work, young 'un, and you ought to be at homewith your mother; if you like I will go up with you this evening toJeffries. I knew him down on the flats, and I daresay he will take youon. I don't say as a saloon is a good place for a boy, still you willalways get your bellyful of victuals and a dry place to sleep in, ifit's only under a table. What do you say?"

  Dick thankfully accepted the offer, and on Red George's recommendationwas that evening engaged. His work was not hard now, for till the minersknocked off there was little doing in the saloon; a few men would comein for a drink at dinner-time, but it was not until the lamps were litthat business began in earnest, and then for four or five hours Dick wasbusy.

  A rougher or healthier lad would not have minded the work, but to Dickit was torture; every nerve in his body thrilled whenever rough minerscursed him for not carrying out their orders more quickly, or forbringing them the wrong liquors, which, as his brain was in a whirl withthe noise, the shouting, and the multiplicity of orders, happenedfrequently. He might have fared worse had not Red George always s
toodhis friend, and Red George was an authority in Pine-tree Gulch--powerfulin frame, reckless in bearing and temper, he had been in a score offights and had come off them, if not unscathed, at least victorious. Hewas notoriously a lucky digger, but his earnings went as fast as theywere made, and he was always ready to open his belt and give a bountifulpinch of dust to any mate down on his luck.

  One evening Dick was more helpless and confused than usual. The saloonwas full, and he had been shouted at and badgered and cursed until hescarcely knew what he was doing. High play was going on in the saloon,and a good many men were clustered round the table. Red George washaving a run of luck, and there was a big pile of gold dust on the tablebefore him. One of the gamblers who was losing had ordered old rye, andinstead of bringing it to him, Dick brought a tumbler of hot liquorwhich someone else had called for. With an oath the man took it up andthrew it in his face.

  "You cowardly hound!" Red George exclaimed. "Are you man enough to dothat to a man?"

  "You bet," the gambler, who was a new arrival at Pine-tree Gulch,replied; and picking up an empty glass, he hurled it at Red George. Theby-standers sprang aside, and in a moment the two men were facing eachother with outstretched pistols. The two reports rung outsimultaneously: Red George sat down unconcernedly with a streak of bloodflowing down his face, where the bullet had cut a furrow in his cheek;the stranger fell back with the bullet hole in the centre of hisforehead.

  The body was carried outside, and the play continued as if nointerruption had taken place. They were accustomed to such occurrencesin Pine-tree Gulch, and the piece of ground at the top of the hill, thathad been set aside as a burial place, was already dotted thickly withgraves, filled in almost every instance by men who had died, in thelocal phraseology, "with their boots on."

  Neither then nor afterwards did Red George allude to the subject toDick, whose life after this signal instance of his championship waseasier than it had hitherto been, for there were few in Pine-tree Gulchwho cared to excite Red George's anger; and strangers going to theplace were sure to receive a friendly warning that it was best for theirhealth to keep their tempers over any shortcomings on the part ofWhite-faced Dick.

  Grateful as he was for Red George's interference on his behalf, Dickfelt the circumstance which had ensued more than anyone else in thecamp. With others it was the subject of five minutes' talk, but Dickcould not get out of his head the thought of the dead man's face as hefell back. He had seen many such frays before, but he was too full ofhis own troubles for them to make much impression upon him. But in thepresent case he felt as if he himself was responsible for the death ofthe gambler; if he had not blundered this would not have happened. Hewondered whether the dead man had a wife and children, and, if so, werethey expecting his return? Would they ever hear where he had died, andhow?

  But this feeling, which, tired out as he was when the time came forclosing the bar, often prevented him from sleeping for hours, in no waylessened his gratitude and devotion towards Red George, and he feltthat he could die willingly if his life would benefit his champion.Sometimes he thought, too, that his life would not be much to give, forin spite of shelter and food, the cough which he had caught whileworking in the water still clung to him, and, as his employer said tohim angrily one day--

  "Your victuals don't do you no good, Dick; you get thinner and thinner,and folks will think as I starve you. Darned if you ain't a disgrace tothe establishment."

  The wind was whistling down the gorges, and the clouds hung among thepine-woods which still clothed the upper slopes of the hills, and thediggers, as they turned out one morning, looked up apprehensively.

  "But it could not be," they assured each other. Every one knew that therains were not due for another month yet; it could only be a passingshower if it rained at all.

  But as the morning went on, men came in from camps higher up the river,and reports were current that it had been raining for the last two daysamong the upper hills; while those who took the trouble to walk acrossto the new channel could see for themselves at noon that it was filledvery nigh to the brim, the water rushing along with thick and turbidcurrent. But those who repeated the rumours, or who reported that thechannel was full, were summarily put down. Men would not believe thatsuch a calamity as a flood and the destruction of all their season'swork could be impending. There had been some showers, no doubt, as therehad often been before, but it was ridiculous to talk of anything likerain a month before its time. Still, in spite of these assertions, therewas uneasiness at Pine-tree Gulch, and men looked at the driving cloudsabove and shook their heads before they went down to the shafts to workafter dinner.

  When the last customer had left and the bar was closed, Dick had nothingto do till evening, and he wandered outside and sat down on a stump, atfirst looking at the work going on in the valley, then so absorbed inhis own thoughts that he noticed nothing, not even the driving mistwhich presently set in. He was calculating that he had, with his savingsfrom his wages and what had been given him by the miners, laid by eightydollars. When he got another hundred and twenty he would go; he wouldmake his way down to San Francisco, and then by ship to Panama and up toNew York, and then west again to the village where he was born. Therewould be people there who would know him, and who would give him work,for his mother's sake. He did not care what it was; anything would bebetter than this.

  Then his thoughts came back to Pine-tree Gulch, and he started to hisfeet. Could he be mistaken? Were his eyes deceiving him? No; among thestones and boulders of the old bed of the Yuba there was the gleam ofwater, and even as he watched it he could see it widening out. Hestarted to run down the hill to give the alarm, but before he washalf-way he paused, for there were loud shouts, and a scene of bustleand confusion instantly arose.

  The cradles were deserted, and the men working on the surface loadedthemselves with their tools and made for the high ground, while those atthe windlasses worked their hardest to draw up their comrades below. Aman coming down from above stopped close to Dick, with a low cry, andstood gazing with a white scared face. Dick had worked with him; he wasone of the company to which Red George belonged.

  "What is it, Saunders?"

  "My God! they are lost," the man replied. "I was at the windlass whenthey shouted up to me to go up and fetch them a bottle of rum. They hadjust struck it rich, and wanted a drink on the strength of it."

  Dick understood at once. Red George and his mates were still in thebottom of the shaft, ignorant of the danger which was threatening them.

  "Come on," he cried; "we shall be in time yet," and at the top of hisspeed dashed down the hill, followed by Saunders.

  "What is it, what is it?" asked parties of men mounting the hill. "RedGeorge's gang are still below."

  Dick's eyes were fixed on the water. There was a broad band now ofyellow with a white edge down the centre of the stony flat, and it waswidening with terrible rapidity. It was scarce ten yards from thewindlass at the top of Red George's shaft when Dick, followed closely bySaunders, reached it.

  "Come up, mates; quick, for your lives! The river is rising; you willbe flooded out directly. Every one else has gone!"

  As he spoke he pulled at the rope by which the bucket was hanging, andthe handles of the windlass flew round rapidly as it descended. When ithad run out, Dick and he grasped the handles.

  "All right below?"

  An answering call came up, and the two began their work, throwing theirwhole strength into it. Quickly as the windlass revolved, it seemed anendless time to Dick before the bucket came up, and the first manstepped out. It was not Red George. Dick had hardly expected it wouldbe. Red George would be sure to see his two mates up before him, and theman uttered a cry of alarm as he saw the water, now within a few feet ofthe mouth of the shaft.

  It was a torrent now, for not only was it coming through the dam, but itwas rushing down in cascades from the new channel. Without a word theminer placed himself facing Dick and the moment the bucket was againdown, the three grasped the handles
. But quickly as they worked, theedge of the water was within a few inches of the shaft when the next manreached the surface; but again the bucket descended before the ropetightened. However, the water had began to run over the lip--at first ina mere trickle, and then, almost instantaneously, in a cascade, whichgrew larger and larger.

  The bucket was half-way up when a sound like thunder was heard, theground seemed to tremble under their feet, and then at the turn of thevalley above, a great wave of yellow water, crested with foam, was seentearing along at the speed of a race-horse.

  "The dam has burst!" Saunders shouted. "Run for your lives, or we areall lost!"

  The three men dropped the handles and ran at full speed towards theshore, while loud shouts to Dick to follow came from the crowd of menstanding on the slope. But the boy still grasped the handles, and withlips tightly closed, still toiled on. Slowly the bucket ascended, forRed George was a heavy man; then suddenly the weight slackened, and thehandle went round faster. The shaft was filling, the water had reachedthe bucket, and had risen to Red George's neck, so that his weight wasno longer on the rope. So fast did the water pour in, that it was nothalf a minute before the bucket reached the surface, and Red Georgesprang out. There was but time for one exclamation, and then the greatwave struck them. Red George was whirled like a straw in the current;but he was a strong swimmer, and at a point where the valley widenedout, half a mile lower, he struggled to shore.

  Two days later the news reached Pine-tree Gulch that a boy's body hadbeen washed ashore twenty miles down, and ten men, headed by Red George,went and brought it solemnly back to Pine-tree Gulch. There, among thestumps of pine-trees, a grave was dug, and there, in the presence of thewhole camp, White-faced Dick was laid to rest.

  Pine-tree Gulch is a solitude now, the trees are growing again, and nonewould dream that it was once a busy scene of industry; but if thetraveller searches among the pine-trees, he will find a stone with thewords:

  "Here lies White-faced Dick, who died to save Red George. 'What can aman do more than give his life for a friend?'"

  The text was the suggestion of an ex-clergyman working as a miner inPine-tree Gulch.

  Red George worked no more at the diggings, but after seeing the stonelaid in its place, went east, and with what little money came to himwhen the common fund of the company was divided after the flood on theYuba, bought a small farm, and settled down there; but to the end of hislife he was never weary of telling those who would listen to it thestory of Pine-tree Gulch.