To The West Part 48

"Where?" said Gunson, abruptly. "Let's look."

He stretched out his hand for the tin, which was placed in it hesitatingly, Quong's face betokening that he did not expect to see it again.

Gunson gave the half-dry sand a shake which spread part of it over the bottom of the tin, then another and another, while I looked on eagerly, and at last he uttered a contemptuous "pis.h.!.+"

"I thought you said you had found gold."

"Yes. Quong fine gole. Washee gole."

"Washee gole! Where is it then?"

The Chinaman took back the tin, shook it, peered in among the grains of sand; shook it again and again; then shook his head instead, and looked up at Gunson.

"Yes; washee gole," he said, in a tone of voice which seemed to mean, "but it's gone away now."

"Fancy, my lad, fancy. There, lie down and rest. I'll have a try when we come to a likely place. We must work in the river."

"No; too muchee water," said Quong.

"Yes; here. We must go up higher."

"Quong washee gole," said the little fellow again.

"Well then, where is it?"

Quong shook his head despondently once more.

"Washee gole," he whined, and again his tone of voice seemed to say to me, "and there was some in that plate, but where it's gone to now I haven't the least idea."

"Come along and have a rest."

"Ah! ah! ah!" cried Quong, excitedly, after giving the pinch of sand a final shake. "Gole--gole!"

He held out the tin once more to Gunson, pointing now with one thin yellow finger, and looking triumphantly at both in turn.

"Where?" said Gunson, laughing, as he followed the direction of the pointing finger, and took the plate in his hand to hold it in different directions in the sun. "Ah, I see it. Here, Gordon, come and have a look. He has found the contents of Aladdin's cave all at once."

"I don't see any gold," I said. "Not see it? Oh, there it is plain enough. My word, what patience these Chinese have! There it is, lad, just in the very centre of the plate. See it?"

"No."

"Now try," he cried, as he tilted the plate sidewise, and this time I saw a tiny glittering speck, about the twentieth part of a pin's-head in size, but, small as it was, giving a suggestion of the peculiar yellow colour of gold.

"Is that all?" I cried, contemptuously. "Yes; that's all. There you are, heathen. Take it, and--no, you can't make much of it. That's no use, my man. We must find better places than this, or you'll never go back to China a rich man and become a Mandarin."

"No good place?"

"No; not worth was.h.i.+ng."

"Not good to washum," said Quong. "Wait till we get higher up." Quong nodded, took a little phial bottle from somewhere under his garments, and after a great deal of trying, contrived to get the tiny scale on the end of the cork, which he carefully inserted in the bottle once more.

After this he settled himself down to rest till Gunson rose for us to continue our journey, which for the rest of that day was through pine forest, with the trees so closely packed that our progress was exceedingly slow; and evening was coming on fast as we reached a part where the trees opened out more like those in an English park, and there was soft gra.s.s beneath our feet.

I was in advance with my eyes fixed upon the ground, which had suddenly become soft and marshy, the reason being plain, for on my left I could hear the hum of falling water, when I suddenly stopped short, and drew back so quickly that I came in contact with Esau.

"What's the matter?" he cried, sharply.

"Hus.h.!.+ Indians," I whispered.

"Indians? Where?" cried Gunson, eagerly.

"They have gone along here," I whispered. "Footmarks."

"Well, don't look so tragic, lad. They will be friendly ones no doubt; and perhaps there is a settlement near, and we can get some fish. Oh, those are their footprints, are they?" he said; and he turned and caught the rifle from Esau. "That fellow had a fine broad foot of his own."

"Yes, he must have been a big man," I said, as I gazed down at the plainly-marked sole and toes in the soft earth.

"Bigger than the one made by Robinson Crusoe's savage," whispered Gunson. "There, get out the revolvers, and mind how you handle them.

Be ready to hand me one if I ask after I have fired."

"But you said the Indians were friendly."

"This tribe never is," replied Gunson, c.o.c.king the rifle and looking sharply round. "They run away generally, but sometimes they show fight, and we must be ready."

He looked carefully in every direction, and then signed to us to follow.

"He's gone straight on, just in the track we want to follow."

"Is there only one?" I whispered. "Only one, and it's very awkward, for I was just thinking of making camp for the night."

"But we needn't be afraid of one Indian," said Esau, boldly.

"No," replied Gunson; "but we need be of one bear."

"Bear?" I said. "Those are a man's footsteps."

"Those are the prints of a very large bear, my lad," said Gunson; "and judging from their appearance, I should say it's not very long since he pa.s.sed. Now then, what had we better do?"

I did not feel myself capable of advising, and I suppose Esau was no more of an expert in bear, for he too was silent.

"Don't speak. Follow me; and as we go, hold your packs loosely so that you can drop them in a moment and take to a tree."

"But bears climb trees," I whispered. "Not they," said Gunson. "Come along." And with the shades of evening closing in fast in that wild valley, we followed our companion as he went cautiously on, scanning every bush and rock, not knowing how soon the savage beast, whose prints continued right in the direction we seemed compelled to take, might rush out and dispute the way.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.