CHAPTER XXIV
THE INDIANS
Although we did not immediately run into the expected thousands, nor didthe promise of that first glorious day of discovery quite fulfil itself,nevertheless our new diggings turned out to be very rich. We fell intoroutine; and the days and weeks slipped by. Bagsby and one companionwent out every day to hunt or to fish. We took turns at a vacation incamp. Every night we "blew" our day's collection of sand, weighed thegold, and packed it away. Our accumulations were getting to be veryvaluable.
For a month we lived this idyllic life quite unmolested, and hadgradually come to feel that we were so far out of the world that nothingwould ever disturb us. The days seemed all alike, clear, sparkling,cloudless. It was my first experience with the California climate, andthese things were a perpetual wonder to my New England mind.
Then one day when I was camp keeper, at the upper end of our longmeadow, a number of men emerged from the willows and hesitateduncertainly. They were too far away to be plainly distinguishable, but Ibelieved in taking no chances, so I fired my revolver to attract theattention of my companions. They looked up from their labour, saw themen, and promptly came into camp.
The group still hesitated at the edge of the thicket. Then one of themwaved something white. We waved in return; whereupon they advancedslowly in our direction.
As they neared we saw them to be Indians. Their leader held before him astick to which had been tied a number of white feathers. As theyapproached us they began to leap and dance to the accompaniment of aweird rising and falling chant. They certainly did not look veryformidable, with their heterogeneous mixture of clothing, their round,black, stupid faces and their straight hair. Most of them were armedsimply with bows and arrows, but three carried specimens of the longSpanish musket.
Buck Barry promptly sallied out to meet them, and shook hands with theforemost. They then advanced to where we were gathered and squatted onthe ground. They were certainly a villainous and dirty looking lot ofsavages, short, thickset, round faced, heavy featured, with coarse,black, matted hair and little twinkling eyes. A more brutish lot ofhuman beings I had never seen; and I was almost deceived into thinkingthem too stupid to be dangerous. The leaders had on remnants ofcivilized clothing, but the rank and file were content with scraps ofblanket, old ragged coats, single shirts, and the like. The oldest manproduced a long pipe from beneath his blanket, filled it with a fewgrains of coarse tobacco, lighted it by means of a coal from our fire,puffed twice on it, and passed it to me. I perforce had to whiff at italso, though the necessity nearly turned my stomach. I might next havegiven it to one of our own party, but I did not want to deprive him ofmy own first hand sensation, so I handed it back to another of thevisitors for fresh inoculation, as it were. Evidently I had by accidenthit on acceptable etiquette, as deep grunts of satisfaction testified.After we had had a whiff all around, the chief opened negotiations inSpanish. Most of us by now had learned enough of it from our intercoursewith Don Gaspar and Vasquez to understand without interpretation.
The Indians said they wanted to trade.
We replied that we saw nothing they might trade with us.
In return they produced some roots and several small bags of pine nuts.
We then explained that we were reduced in ammunition, and had littlefood.
Don Gaspar here interpolated hastily, saying that in his judgment itwould be absolutely necessary that we made some sort of a present toavoid the appearance of intending an affront. Buck Barry and Jonesseemed instantly to accept this necessity.
"Give them two or three of the saddle blankets," suggested Barry, aftera moment's thought. "We will have several light hosses going out; and ifwe have to pad the saddles we can git along with skins or something."
We gave our visitors the blankets, therefore. They seemed well pleased,arose, and shortly made a primitive sort of a camp a short distanceoutside our stockade. We did no more washing that day. About fiveo'clock our hunters came in with the best meat of a blacktail deer.Bagsby listened attentively to our account of the interview. Then hetook a hindquarter of the newly killed buck and departed for theIndians' camp, where he stayed for an hour.
"I don't think they are out for meanness," he announced when hereturned. "They tell me this yere is on a sort of short cut from some ofthe Truckee lakes down to their villages. But we got to keep a sharp eyeon our horses; and we got to stand guard to-night."
Very early in the morning, when we were just up, several of the elderscame over to tell us that some of the young men would stay to work forus, if we so desired. We replied that we had no goods with which to payfor work. Shortly after, the whole tribe vanished down river.
For two nights Bagsby insisted on standing guard, and on having some ofus take turns at it. Then we declined flatly to do so any longer. TheIndians had gone far downstream, as their trail indicated to ourhunters, and had shown no signs of even hesitating on the way. We fellinto our old routine, and laughed at Bagsby when he shook his head.
About this time Johnny and McNally, scrambling of a Sunday for the sakeof a view, stumbled on a small ravine that came nearer realizing ourhoped-for strike than anything we had yet seen. After "puddling out" afew potfuls of the pay dirt, we decided to move the cradles. It was notover a half mile from camp, but was out of sight of the stockade. Themove was the occasion for a hot discussion. Bagsby wanted to reorganize,and we were reluctant.
"Thar ought to be two men in camp," said he, "and thar ought never to beless'n three together out hunting. And that's my idee--that ye're payingme money for."
"That leaves us only four men to work the cradles," I objected. "Fourmen out of nine working."
"Well, thar won't be _no_ men out of nine a-workin' if you don'twatch out," predicted Bagsby. "You-all forgit this is a self-supportin'community. We got to work for our living, as well as for gold."
"The hunters might go out less," suggested McNally.
"The miners might eat less, then," replied Bagsby grimly. "This ain'twhat you'd call the best sort of a game country."
We came to it, of course, though with much grumbling. It seemed analmost excuseless waste of good energy; a heavy price in economicefficiency to pay for insurance against what seemed a very remote peril.But we did not know, and our uncertainty gave way.
"But hang it!" cried Johnny, "here's more gold than a hundred men couldbegin to handle, and we're wasting more than half our resources."
"It do seem so," agreed Yank with his accustomed slow philosophy. "Butwe can put in longer hours because we rest oftener."
A week passed, and we had almost forgotten our chance visitors. One daythe two Spaniards, Buck Barry and I were at the cradle; Bagsby, Yank,and McNally were the hunters for the day. Johnny and Missouri Jones keptcamp.
We had had a most successful morning, and were just stacking our toolspreparatory to returning to camp for dinner. Buck Barry was standingnear some small sage bushes at the upper end of the diggings. He wasjust in the act of lighting a freshly filled pipe, when he stopped asthough petrified, the burning match suspended above the bowl of hispipe. Then he turned quickly toward the sage brush; and as he did so abow twanged and an arrow sang past his head so close as actually to drawblood from the lobe of his ear. With a roar of anger Buck Barry raisedhis pickaxe and charged into the bush. We saw a figure rise from theground, dash away, stumble flat. Before the man could get up again BuckBarry was upon him, and the pickaxe descended. At the same instant weheard a series of whoops and two shots in rapid succession from thedirection of camp. Buck Barry came bounding out of the sage brush, andseized his rifle from under the bush where we had kept them.
"Come on!" he panted. "Let's get out of this!"
We ran as hard as we could go for a hundred yards, or until we hadreached the flat of the river bottom. Then we paused, uncertain as tojust what next to do.
"Wait a minute," said I. "I'll just take a look," and hurried up alittle spur-knoll to the right. From that elevation I instantly caughtsight of a crowd o
f Indians coming up the valley at full speed. Most ofthem were on horseback, but a number loped along on foot, keeping upwith the animals. One look was enough. I raced down to my companionsagain; and we hastily took refuge in the only cover near enough toconceal us--a little clump of willows in a small, damp watercourse.There we crouched, rifles ready.
I was terribly excited. The patter of the horses was now plainlyaudible, though, owing to the inequalities of the ground, they could notbecome visible farther than a hundred yards away. I trembled violently,and cursed myself for a coward, though I really do not think I wasfrightened. At any rate, I became deadly cool the moment the firstsavage appeared; and I drew a steady bead and toppled him off his horsebefore any one else had got in action. The shot brought them to a stand.They had, I think, expected to find us in our ravine, and weresurprised. Immediately I dropped the butt of my rifle to the ground andbegan reloading. A shower of arrows flew toward us, but were deflectedby the criss-cross of the willows. In fact, this lacework of stoutbranches seemed to be an excellent sort of armour against arrows. In themeantime my companions had each dropped his man; though Vasquez hadbetter luck than skill, as his savage was only clipped in the leg. Ifired once more, and elicited a howl. There could be no missing at thedistance, unless a man quite lost his head; and personally I was tooscared for that. Another shower of arrows rattled in the willows; thenthe band broke to right and left and raced away up the hills like mad.They had no courage, and lost stomach for the fight at once when theyfound us prepared.
We were astonished and delighted, for we had fully expected to be riddendown. As soon as we were quite certain this sudden retreat was not aruse, we came out from our shelter. How many wounded had made off--ifany--we could not tell. Three dead bodies lay on the ground. To them wepaid no attention, but, with many forebodings, hurried back to camp.
When we appeared in sight Missouri Jones ran out to meet us, his rifleover his arm.
"Where's Johnny?" I cried.
"He was down at the river a-getting water," said Jones, "and I ain'tseen him since."
We all ran down to the edge of the river pool whence we drew our supply.For a moment our hearts stood still, for no Johnny was in sight. Then hearose dripping from the middle of the pool.
"This water's cold," he remarked conversationally. "I think I'll comeout. Anybody hurt?"
He waded ashore, and shook himself like a dog.
"I didn't hear 'em until they were right on top of me; and I couldn'tget away without being seen," said he; "so I just waded out and imitateda rock with my head."
We roared with laughter by way of relief.
"It isn't the first time, Johnny," said I.
"That's all right," put in Missouri Jones. "This is no joke. They gotthree of our hosses."
Then he told us his experience.
"I was just a-browning of the venison," he explained, "when I happenedto look up, and thar was three of our hosses running off, tails up, anda half dozen Injuns a hoss-back driving 'em. I let drive with old Betseyand Johnny's gun, but they was about out of range. While I was lookingafter them about forty Injuns went past sky-hootin'. I suppose theythought the first lot had all the hosses, and so they didn't stop. Therest of the hosses, luckily, was asleep behind the cottonwoods. You betI didn't call their attention to myself."
He exhibited the greatest satisfaction when he learned that we hadaccounted for four.
"That's something like Injun fighting," he observed, "though these are apore, spiritless lot. The whole bag ain't worth more than one of themgood hosses."
We did no more gold washing that day, but remained close in camp,consumed with anxiety for our companions. From time to time we fired arifle, with the idea of warning them that something was amiss. Theremaining half-dozen horses we ran into the corral.
Night fell and still the hunters did not return. We were greatly alarmedand distressed, but we could not think of anything to do, for we had notthe least idea in what direction to look.
"Bagsby and Yank are old hands," speculated Missouri Jones consolingly."And the fact that Injuns is abroad would make them slow and careful."
None of us felt like turning in. We all sat outside on the ground arounda little fire.
Toward midnight we heard voices; and a moment later Yank and Bagsbystrode in out of the darkness.
"Where's McNally?" Yank instantly demanded. "Hasn't he come in yet?"
We told him we had seen nothing of the missing man.
"Well, he'll drift in pretty soon," said Bagsby. "We lost him in thedarkness not two hours back."
They set to frying some venison steak. Excitedly and in antiphony Johnnyand I detailed the day's adventure. Both the backwoodsmen listened insilence, but without suspending their cooking.
"They didn't bother McNally," Bagsby decided. "They'd drive those hossesaway five or six miles before they'd stop; and McNally was with us justa little piece back. He'll be in by the time the venison is cooked."
But he was not; nor by an hour later. Then we decided that we must goout to look for him.
"We can't see nothin' till daylight," said Bagsby, "but we can getstarted back for the last place we saw him."
It was now about one o'clock in the morning. Bagsby appointed Vasquez,Missouri Jones, Buck Barry, Yank and myself to accompany him. Don Gasparwas suffering from a slight attack of malarial fever; and Johnny, to hisvast disgust, was left to hold him company. We took each a horse, whichwe had to ride bareback and with a twisted rope "war halter."
Bagsby led the way, and we followed closely nose to tail. It was aninteresting and wonderful experience, had I had more attention to giveit, for we rode mysteriously neck deep in velvet darkness over strangehills, and awful shapes rose mysteriously, and the sky silvered withstars like the glittering of little waves. But my mind was filled withdread and foreboding, and a great anxiety for our merry, blue-eyedcompanion, and a very considerable wonder as to how our guide managed tofind his way.
He did not hesitate, however, as to direction; only occasionally he hadto stop and cast back and around for a way through. Often, at a lowcommand from him, we dismounted and led our animals.
We proceeded thus for a long time--five or six miles, I should think. Bythe undefined feeling of dark space at either hand I judged we must beatop a ridge. Bagsby halted.
"It was somewhere on this ridge we left him," said he. "I reckon nowwe'd just better set down and wait for dawn."
Accordingly we dismounted and drew together in a little group. Over thetop of the great ranges a gibbous moon rose slowly. By her dim light Icould make out the plunge on either side our ridge, and the other darkridges across the way. Behind us our horses occasionally stamped a hoofor blew softly through their noses.
I lay flat on my back, and idly counted the stars. Happening to glancesidewise, I caught the flicker of a distant light.
"Bagsby," I whispered, "there's a fire not more than a half mile away."
He too lay down in order to get my angle of view.
"It's not McNally," he pronounced after a moment's careful inspection,"for it's too big a fire, and it's a lot more than half a mile away.That's a good big fire. I think it's Injuns."
"Probably the same gang that lifted our hosses!" cried Buck.
"Probably," agreed Bagsby. He sat upright and peered at us through thedim moonlight. "Want to get after them?" he inquired.
"You bet!" said Buck emphatically, "They may have McNally, and if theyhaven't, they've got our horses."
"There's six of us and we can shore make it interesting for that lot,"agreed Yank. "Can we get to where they are?"
"I think so," said Bagsby.
We rode for another hour, slanting down the mountainside toward theflickering fire. Every time a horse rolled a rock or broke a driedbranch it seemed to me that the mountains reverberated from end to end.I don't believe I allowed myself to weigh over six ounces all told.Finally we left the slope for the bottom of the valley.
"I'd rather be below their camp than above
it. It's going to be hard toget out this way," complained Bagsby, "but it's the best we can do." Hedismounted us, and we crept forward another half mile, leading ouranimals.
"This is as close as I dare take the hosses," whispered Bagsby."Vasquez, you stay here with them," he said in Spanish, "and when I yelltwice quick and sharp, you answer so we'll know where to find you. Comeon!"
We stole forward slowly. The fire leaped and flared beneath thewidespread branches of a tree. Around it lay a half dozen or sorecumbent shapes wrapped in blankets. How many more might be lyingbeyond the light circle we could not tell. Beyond them we saw dimly theforms of dozing horses. Obeying a signal from the old trapper, wecircled the camp until we were on the same side as the animals. Theyraised their heads and blew softly at us; but we lay still, and shortlythey quieted down.
"Now," breathed Bagsby, "when I give the word, fire. And each man grab ahorse by the picket rope, stampede the rest, and hustle back to Vasquez.Ready!"
We raised our pieces, but before the command to fire was given, one ofthe sleepers threw aside his blanket, stretched himself and arose. Itwas a white man!
I confess that for a moment I turned physically sick.
"Hello!" called Bagsby, quite unmoved.
The white man seized his rifle, and the recumbent forms leaped to life.
"Who are you?" he demanded sharply. "Speak quick!"
"Keep yore ha'r on!" drawled the trapper, advancing into the light."We're perfectly respectable miners, out looking for a lost man; and wesaw yore fire."
The rest of us uttered a yell of joy and relief. One of the men who hadbeen sleeping around the fire was McNally himself.
We drew together, explaining, congratulating. The strangers, six innumber, turned out to be travellers from the eastern side of the ranges.They listened with interest and attention to our account of the Indianattack. McNally explained that he had been uncertain of his route in thedark; so that when he had caught sight of the fire he had made his wayto it. We were still engaged in this mutual explanation when we werestruck dumb by a long-drawn-out yell from the direction of our ownhorses.
"It is Vasquez," explained Barry. "He wants to let us know where he is,"and he answered the yell.
But at that moment one of our own horses dashed up to the bunch ofpicketed animals and wheeled, trembling. Its rope bridle dangled brokenfrom its head. Sam Bagsby darted forward to seize the hanging cord.
"It's cut!" he cried. "Quick! Out across the valley, boys!"
We followed him into the moonlight, grasping our rifles. A moment latera compact band swept toward us at full speed, our horses in the lead,their rope halters dangling, a dozen Indians on horseback followingclose at their heels and urging them on.
"Shoot, boys!" yelled Bagsby, discharging his own piece.
Our rifles cracked. It was impossible to take aim; and I am sure we hitnothing. But the horses swerved aside from the long fiery flashes, andso ran into the picketed lot and stopped. The Indians flew on throughour scattered line without stopping, pursued by a sputter of shots fromour Colt's revolvers.
"A while ago I was sorry we had to stop above camp," said Bagsby withsatisfaction; "but it was a lucky thing for us. They had to come by usto git out."
"And Vasquez?" Yank struck across our exultation.
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