CHAPTER XX
THE GOLD WASHERS
Johnny did not return at all that night, but showed up next morning atthe diggings, looking blear-eyed and sleepy. He told us he had sleptwith a friend, and replied rather curtly that he was a "little behindthe game." I believe myself that he was cleaned out; but that was noneof our business. Every night we divided the dust into five parts. DonGaspar and Vasquez got two of these. The remainder we again divided intofour. I took charge of Talbot's share. We carried the dust always withus; for the camp was no longer safe from thieves.
In order to effect this division we had to have some sort of scales. Iwent up to the single store to see what I could do. The storekeeper wasa drawling, slow, down-east Yankee, perpetually chewing a long sliver orstraw, talking exclusively through his nose, keen for a bargain,grasping of the last cent in a trade, and yet singularly interesting andagreeable. His sense of dry humour had a good deal to do with this. Hehad no gold scales to lend or to hire, but he had some to sell. Theprice was fifteen dollars for an ordinary pair of balances worth notover a dollar and a half.
"And you'll find that cheap, if the miners keep coming in as fast asthey do," said he. "In two weeks they'll be worth fifty."
We bought them, and obtained from them great satisfaction. Vasquez usedto weigh his gold at night, and again in the morning, in hopes, Isuppose, that it had bred overnight.
Certainly the storekeeper's statement as to the influx of miners wasjustified. They came every day, in droves. We began to feel quite likeold-timers, and looked with infinite scorn on these greenhorns. Theywere worse than we had been; for I have seen them trying to work in themoonlight! The diggings were actually getting crowded.
It was no longer feasible to dig wherever we pleased to do so. We heldmany miners' meetings, adopting regulations. A claim was to be fifteenfeet square; work must begin on it within ten days; and so forth. Eachof the five members of our party staked out two claims each, on which weworked in turn. All the old-timers respected these regulations, but someof the newcomers seemed inclined to dispute them; so that many meetingsand much wrangling ensued. The truth of the matter was that none of ushad the slightest permanent interest in the place. We intended merely tomake our piles and to decamp. Each was for himself. Therefore there wasno solidarity. We regulated only when we were actually forced to it; sothat with what we called "private affairs" we declined to interfere. Aman could commit any crime in the decalogue if so it pleased him. Hisvictims must protect themselves. Such things as horse stealing, grandlarceny, claim jumping, and mining regulations we dealt with; but otherthings were not our affair. We were too busy, and too slightlyinterested in what little public welfare a temporary mining camp mighthave. Even when, in a few cases, turbulence resulted in shooting, werarely punished; although, strangely enough, our innate Anglo-Saxonfeeling for the formality of government always resulted in a Sunday"inquest." We deliberated solemnly. The verdict was almost invariably"justifiable self-defence," which was probably near enough, for most ofthese killings were the result of quarrels. Murders for the purpose ofrobbery, later so frequent, were as yet almost unknown. Twice, however,and in both instances the prisoner was one of the gamblers, wepronounced judgment. One of these men was banished, and the otherhanged. All in all a very fair semblance of order was kept; but I cannothelp now but feel that our early shirking of responsibility--which wastypical of all California--made necessary later great upheavals ofpopular justice.
About this time, also, the first of the overland wagon trains began tocome through. Hangman's Gulch was not on the direct route; but someenterprising individual had found our trail fairly practicable forwagons and ten miles shorter than the regular road. After that manyfollowed, and soon we had a well-cleared road. They showed plainly thehardships of a long journey, for the majority of them were thin, sicklooking and discouraged. Few of them stopped at the diggings, althoughmost had come west in hopes of gold, but pushed on down to the pasturesof the Sacramento. They were about worn out and needed to recuperatebefore beginning anything new. Some were out of provisions andpractically starved. The Yankee storekeeper sold food at terrible rates.I remember that quinine--a drug much in demand--cost a dollar a grain!We used to look up from our diggings at the procession of thesesad-faced, lean men walking by their emaciated cattle, and the womenpeering from the wagons, and be very thankful that we had decidedagainst the much-touted overland route.
One day, however, an outfit went through of quite a different character.We were apprised of its approach by a hunter named Bagsby. He loped downthe trail to the river level very much in a hurry.
"Boys!" he shouted, "quit work! Come see what's coming down the trail!"with which he charged back again up the hill.
His great excitement impressed us, for Bagsby, like most of the old-timeRocky Mountain men, was not ordinarily what one would call an emotionalindividual. Therefore we dropped our tools and surged up the hill asfast as we could go. I think we suspected Indians.
A train of three wagons drawn by strong oxen was lurching slowly downthe road. It differed little from others of its kind, save that thecattle were in better shape and the men walking alongside, of the tall,competent backwoodsman type, seemed well and hearty. But perhaps ahundred yards ahead of the leading wagon came a horse--the only horse inthe outfit--and on it, riding side-saddle, was a girl. She was a verypretty, red-cheeked girl, and she must have stopped within a half mileor so of the camp in order to get herself up for this impressiveentrance. Her dress was of blue calico with a white yoke and heavyflounces or panniers; around her neck was a black velvet ribbon; on herhead was a big leghorn hat with red roses. She rode through the town,her head high, like a princess; and we all cheered her like mad. Notonce did she look at us; but I could see her bosom heaving withexcitement beneath her calico, and her nostrils wide. She was aremarkably pretty girl; and this was certainly the moment of hertriumph.
We fell into sanity as respects our hours of work and the way we went atit. Often we took as much as an hour and a half off at noon; or quitwork early in the day. Then it was pleasant to sit with other minersunder the trees or in the shade by the stream swapping yarns, doing ourmending or washing, and generally getting acquainted. As each man'sproduct was his own, no one cared how much or how little the othersworked. Simply when he quit, his share ceased. This does not mean thatwe shirked our work, however; we merely grew to be a little sensible.
Some of our discussions were amusing, and several of them mostilluminating. Thus, one day, John Semple summed up a long talk in whichthe conversation had swung wildly among the ideas of what each would dowhen he had dug "enough" gold. That had led us to consider what amountwe thought would be "enough" for each of us. John settled it.
"Enough," said he, "is always a little more than a man has."
The political situation was fruitful of much idle discussion also.California had not been formally placed on any footing whatever by theUnited States Congress. Whatever any community did in the way oflegislation or regulation was extra-legal and subject to ratification. Ihave heard grave discussions as to whether even murder could beconsidered a crime, since in this no-man's land there was no real lawforbidding it!
A good many Chinese drifted in about this time, and established a campof their own a short distance downstream. We took some pride in them ascuriosities, with their queer, thatchlike hats, their loose blueclothing, their pigtails wound tight around their heads, and their queeryellow faces. They were an unobtrusive people, scratching awaypatiently, though spasmodically, on the surface of the ground. Wesometimes strolled down to see them. They were very hospitable, andpleased at the interest they excited.
We made from fourteen to seventeen ounces of gold dust a day for someweeks, working our two cradles something like eight hours a day. Withgold at the then current rate of fourteen dollars an ounce this was agood return, and we were quite happy. Besides, we were always hoping fora big strike. One day, as I was in the very act of turning my shovelfulof dirt into the cradle,
my eye caught a dull gleam. I instantlydeflected the motion to dump the dirt on the stones alongside, fishedabout, and dug out a nugget that weighed three and three-quarter ounces.This was by far the largest single nugget found in these diggings--formost of the gold here came in flakes--and it attracted much attention.It belonged to me, individually, because I had not yet dumped it intothe cradle.
About this time we had to come to some sort of a decision, for ourprovisions were about exhausted. We had no desire to replenish our stockfrom that of the local storekeeper. We were doing pretty well in thediggings, but we had also fairly healthy appetites, and I am convincedthat at the prices that man charged we should have no more than kepteven. Williams, the storekeeper, was levying double profits, one fromus, and one from the overland immigrants. Don Gaspar proposed we sendout Vasquez with all the horses to restock at Sutter's Fort. We were atrifle doubtful as to whether Vasquez would ever come back, but DonGaspar seemed to have confidence in his man. Finally, though a littledoubtfully, we came to the plan. Don Gaspar sent out also to McClellanfor safekeeping his accumulations of gold dust; but we did not go quitethat far. In view of probable high prices we entrusted him with eighteenounces for the purchase of goods.
While he was away we came to another decision. It had been for someweeks preparing. The diggings were becoming overcrowded. Almost everyfoot of the bar was occupied, and more men were coming in every day. Nolonger could the newcomer be sure of his colour the afternoon of hisarrival; but was forced to prospect here and there up and down the riveruntil he found a patch of the pay dirt. Most trusted simply to luck, butsome had systems on which they worked. I have seen divining rods used.The believers in chance seemed to do as well as any one else.
But, also, our own yield was decreasing. The last week we had gainedonly nineteen ounces all told. This might be merely a lean bit ofmisfortune, or it might mean that we had taken the best from our tenclaims. Since the human mind is prone to changes, we inclined to thelatter theory. We were getting restless. No miner ever came toCalifornia who did not believe firmly that he would have done muchbetter had he come out one voyage earlier; and no miner ever founddiggings so rich that he had not a sneaking suspicion that he could doeven better "a little farther on."
Our restlessness was further increased by the fact that we were nowseeing a good deal of Sam Bagsby, the hunter. He and Yank had found muchin common, and forgathered of evenings before our campfire.
Bagsby was a man of over fifty, tall and straight as a youngster, with ashort white beard, a gray eye, and hard, tanned flesh. He was a typicalRocky Mountain man, wearing even in the hottest weather his fur cap withthe tail hanging behind, his deerskin moccasins, and his fringedbuckskin hunting shirt. Mining possessed no interest for him whatever.He was by profession a trapper, and he had crossed the plains ahalf-dozen times.
"No mining for me!" he stated emphatically. "I paddled around after thestuff for a while, till my hands swelled up like p'ison, and my backcreaked like a frozen pine tree in the wind. Then I quit, and I stayedquit. I'm a hunter; and I'm makin' a good livin', because I ain't veryparticular on how I live."
He and Yank smoked interminable pipes, and swapped yarns. Johnny and Iliked nothing better than to keep quiet and listen to them. Bagsby hadcome out with Captain Sutter; and told of that doughty soldier's earlyskirmishes with the Indians. His tales of the mountains, the plains, andthe game and Indians were so much romance to us; and we both wishedheartily that fate could have allowed us a chance at such adventures.
"But why don't you fellows branch out?" Bagsby always ended. "What doyou want to stick here for like a lot of groundhogs? There's rivers backin the hills a heap better than this one, and nobody thar. You'd havethe place plumb to yoreselves. Git in where the mountains is reallymountainous."
Then he would detail at length and slowly his account of the greatmountains, deep canons, the shadows of forests, ridges high up above theworld, and gorges far within the bowels of the earth through whichdashed white torrents. We gathered and pieced together ideas of greatice and snow mountains, and sun-warmed bars below them, and bears anddeer, and a high clear air breathing through a vast, beautiful andsolitary wilderness. The picture itself was enough to set bounding thepulses of any young man, with a drop of adventure in his veins. But alsoBagsby was convinced that there we should find richer diggings than anyyet discovered.
"It stands to reason," he argued, "that the farther up you git, the moregold there is. All this loose stuff yere is just what washed down fromthe main supply. If you boys reely wants rich diggings, then you want topush up into the Porcupine River country."
But with this glowing and vivid impression we gathered another: that ofa trackless wilderness, fearful abysses down which to find a way,labyrinthine defiles, great forests. None of us knew how to cope withthese things. Yank, the best woodsman of us all, had had no experiencein mountains. None of us knew anything of Indian warfare. None of us hadthe least idea that we could find Porcupine River, even if we were to begiven accurate directions on how to get there.
Nevertheless the idea with us had been growing. Some of the bolderspirits among our acquaintances used to talk it over with us at oddtimes--McNally, Buck Barry, and his partner, Missouri Jones. We did notdiscuss it as a plan, hardly as a possibility, merely as a pleasanttheme. We found, and advanced any amount of objections--the uncertaintyof finding any gold at all, the expense of such a journey, the dangerfrom Indians, the fact that we could find other proved diggings muchnearer, and a half hundred others. The moment one of us had advanced oneof these objections he was at once himself the most eager to demolishit. Thus we gradually worked ourselves toward enthusiasm.
"If Sam Bagsby would join us, it might be worth trying," we came to atlast.
But Sam Bagsby scouted any such idea.
"I ain't that kind of a tom-fool," said he. "If I want to paddle myhands blue I'd do it yere. I couldn't make more'n a living anyway. Itell you I ain't got no use for yore pra'rie dog grubbing!"
Then McNally had an inspiration.
"Will you go, Sam, if we pay you for going?" he asked.
"Sure," replied the trapper at once. "I'm a labouring man, I'll goanywhar I'm paid to go."
It came out that Bagsby's ideas of proper compensation were hissupplies, fifteen dollars a week in gold, and a drink of whiskey twice aday! In all this gold country he was the only man I met who genuinelydespised money. I really think we were hurried to our decision by thisunexpected reasonableness on his part. At any rate we decided definitelyto go.
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