The Golden Dream: Adventures in the Far West Part 21

"Hear, hear," said several voices; "get up on the stump an' fire away, stranger."

Ned obeyed.

"Gentlemen," he began, "I can swear, in the first place, that the Chinaman has not been a quarter of a mile from my tent for three weeks past, so that he could not have stolen the gold--"

"How then came it beside his tent?" inquired a voice.

"I'll tell you, if you will listen. This morning early I started on a prospecting ramble up the stream, and not long after I set out I caught a glance of that villain Black Jim, who, you know, has been supposed for some time back to have been lurking in the neighbourhood. He ran off the moment he caught sight of me, and although I followed him at full speed for a considerable distance, he succeeded in escaping. However, I noticed the print of his footsteps, in a muddy place over which he pa.s.sed, and observed that his right boot had no heel. On returning home this afternoon, and hearing what had happened, I went to the spot where the bag of gold had been discovered, and there, sure enough, I found footprints, one of which shewed that the wearer's right boot had _no heel_. Now, gentlemen, it don't need much speaking to make so clear a matter clearer, I leave you to judge whether this robbery has been committed by the Chinaman or not."

Ned's speech was received with various cries; some of which shewed that the diggers were not satisfied with his explanation, and Ah-wow's fate still trembled in the balance, when the owner of the bag of gold stepped forward and admitted that he had observed similar foot-marks in the neighbourhood of his tent just after the robbery was committed, and said that he believed the Chinaman was innocent. This set the matter at rest. Ah-wow was cast loose and congratulated by several of the bystanders on his escape, but there seemed a pretty general feeling amongst many of the others that they had been unjustly deprived of their prey, and there is no saying what might have happened had not another culprit appeared on the scene to divert their attention.

The man who was led forward had all the marks of a thorough desperado about him. From his language it was impossible to judge what country had the honour of giving him birth, but it was suspected that his last residence had been Botany Bay. Had this man's innocence been ever so clearly proved he could not have escaped from such judges in their then disappointed state of mind; but his guilt was unquestionable. He had been caught in the act of stealing from a monte table. The sum was not very large, however, so it was thought a little too severe to hang him; but he was condemned to have his head shaved, his ears cut off, and to receive a hundred lashes.

The sentence was executed promptly, notwithstanding the earnest remonstrances of a few of the better-disposed among the crowd: and Ned, seeing that he could do nothing to mitigate the punishment of the poor wretch, left the spot with his comrades and the rescued Chinaman.

That night, as they all sat round their camp-fire, eating supper with a degree of zest known only to those who labour at severe and out-of-door occupation all day, Ned Sinton astonished his companions not a little, by stating his intention to leave them for the purpose of making a tour through the country.

"Make a tour!" exclaimed Maxton, in surprise.

"An' lave all the goold!" cried Larry O'Neil, pausing in his mastication of a tough lump of bear-steak.

"Why, boy," said Captain Bunting, laying down his knife, and looking at Ned in amazement, "what's put that in your head, eh?"

"Being somewhat tired of grubbing in the mud has put it into my head,"

replied Ned, smiling. "The fact is, comrades, that I feel disposed for a ramble, and I _don't_ feel bent on making a fortune. You may, perhaps, be surprised to hear such a statement, but--"

"Not at all--by no means," interrupted Bill Jones; "I'm surprised at nothin' in this here country. If I seed a first-rate man-o'-war comin'

up the valley at fifteen knots, with stun'-sails alow and aloft, stem on, against the wind, an' carryin' all before it, like nothin', I wouldn't be surprised, not a bit, so I wouldn't!"

"Well, perhaps not," resumed Ned; "but, surprised or not, my statement is true. I don't care about making my `pile' in a hurry. Life was not given to us to spend it in making or digging gold; and, being quite satisfied, in the meantime, with the five or six hundred pounds of profits that fall to my share, I am resolved to make over my unfinished claim to the firm, and set out on my travels through the country. I shall buckle on my bowie-knife and revolver, and go where fancy leads me, as long as my funds last; when they are exhausted, I will return, and set to work again. Now, who will go with me?"

"Are you in earnest?" asked Tom Collins.

"In earnest! ay, that am I; never was more so in my life. Why, I feel quite ashamed of myself. Here have I been living for weeks in one of the most romantic and beautiful parts of this world, without taking more notice of it, almost, than if it did not exist. Do you think that with youth and health, and a desire to see everything that is beautiful in creation, I'm going to stand all day and every day up to the knees in dirty water, sc.r.a.ping up little particles of gold? Not I! I mean to travel as long as I have a dollar in my pocket; when that is empty, I'll work."

Ned spoke in a half-jesting tone, but there is no doubt that he gave utterance to the real feelings of his heart. He felt none of that eager thirst for gold which burned, like a fever, in the souls of hundreds and thousands of the men who poured at that time in a continuous and ever-increasing stream into California. Gold he valued merely as a means of accomplis.h.i.+ng present ends; he had no idea of laying it up for the future; married men, he thought, might, perhaps, with propriety, ama.s.s money for the benefit of their families, but _he_ wasn't a married man, and didn't mean to be one, so he felt in duty bound to spend all the gold he dug out of the earth.

We do not pretend to enter into a disquisition as to the correctness or incorrectness of Ned's opinions; we merely state them, leaving our reader to exercise his own reasoning powers on the subject, if so disposed.

For a few seconds after Ned's last speech, no sound escaped the lips of his comrades, save those resulting from the process of mastication. At last, Tom Collins threw down his knife, and slapped his thigh energetically, as he exclaimed, "I'll go with you, Ned! I've made up my mind. I'm tired of digging, too; and I'm game for a ramble into the heart of the Rocky Mountains, if you like."

"Bravo! Tom," cried Captain Bunting, slapping his companion on the shoulder--"well and bravely spoken; but you're a goose for all that, and so, saving his presence, is Commodore Ned Sinton. Why, you'll just waste two months or so in profitless wandering, and return beggars to the Little Creek to begin the work all over again. Take my advice, lads--the advice of an old salt, who knows a thing or two--and remain where you are till we have worked out all the gold hereabouts. After that you may talk of s.h.i.+fting."

"You're a very sour old salt to endeavour to damp our spirits in that way at the outset, but it won't do; my mind is made up, and I'm glad to find that there is at least one of the party who is strong enough to break these golden chains."

"Faix I comed here for goold, an' I stop here for the same raison,"

remarked Larry, sc.r.a.ping the last morsels from the bottom of the kettle with an iron spoon; "I've thravelled more nor enough in me day, so I can affoord to stop at home now."

"Get out, you renegade! do you call this home?" cried Ned.

"'Tis all that's of it at present, anyhow."

"When shall we start?" inquired Tom Collins.

"To-morrow. We have few preparations to make, and the sooner we go the better; for when the rainy season sets in, our journeying will be stopped perforce. I have a plan in my mind which I shall detail to you after we retire to rest. Meanwhile I'll go and improve my bed, which has been so uncomfortable for some nights past that my very bones are aching."

Ned rose, took up an axe, and, going into the bush in rear of the tent, cut down a young pine-tree, the tender shoots and branches of which he stripped off, and strewed thickly on the ground on which he was wont to sleep; over these he spread two thick blankets, and on this simple but springy and comfortable couch he and Tom Coffins lay down side by side to talk over their future plans, while their comrades snored around them.

Daylight found them still talking; so, pausing by mutual consent, they s.n.a.t.c.hed an hour's repose before commencing the needful preparations for their contemplated journey.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

NED AND TOM TAKE TO WANDERING--PHILOSOPHICAL SPECULATIONS--A STARTLING APPARITION--THE DIGGER INDIANS--WATER BOILED IN A BASKET--THE GLOOMY Pa.s.s--THE ATTACK BY ROBBERS--THE FIGHT--A SURPRISE--THE ENCAMPMENT.

Change is one of the laws of nature. We refer not to small-change, reader, but to physical, material change. Everything is given to change; men, and things, and place, and circ.u.mstances, all change, more or less, as time rolls on in its endless course. Following, then, this inevitable law of nature, we, too, will change the scene, and convey our reader deeper in among the plains and mountains of the far, "far west."

It is a beautiful evening in July. The hot season has not yet succeeded in burning up all nature into a dry russet-brown. The whole face of the country is green and fresh after a recent shower, which has left myriads of diamond-drops trembling from the point of every leaf and blade. A wide valley, of a n.o.ble park-like appearance, is spread out before us, with scattered groups of trees all over it, blue mountain-ranges in the far distance circling round it, and a bright stream winding down its emerald breast. On the hill-sides the wild-flowers grow so thickly that they form a soft, thick couch to lie upon, immense trees, chiefly pines and cedars, rise here and there like giants above their fellows. Oaks, too, are numerous, and the scene in many places is covered with mansanita underwood, a graceful and beautiful shrub. The trees and shrubbery, however, are not so thickly planted as to intercept the view, and the ground undulates so much that occasionally we overtop them, and obtain a glimpse of the wide vale before us. Over the whole landscape there is a golden sunny haze, that enriches while it softens every object, and the balmy atmosphere is laden with the sweet perfume called forth by the pa.s.sing shower.

One might fancy Eden to have been somewhat similar to this, and here, as there, the presence of the Lord might be recognised in a higher degree than in most other parts of this earth, for, in this almost untrodden wilderness, His pre-eminently beautiful works have not yet to any great extent been marred by the hand of man.

Far away towards the north, two hors.e.m.e.n may be seen wending their way through the country at a slow, ambling pace, as if they would fain prolong their ride in such a lovely vale. The one is Ned Sinton, the other Tom Collins.

It had cost these worthies a week of steady riding, to reach the spot on which we now find them, during which time they had pa.s.sed through great varieties of scenery, had seen many specimens of digging-life, and had experienced not a few vicissitudes; but their griefs were few and slight compared with their enjoyments, and, at the moment we overtake them, they were riding they knew not and they cared not whither! Sufficient for them to know that the wilds before them were illimitable; that their steeds were of the best and fleetest Mexican breed; that their purses were well-lined with dollars and gold-dust; that they were armed with rifles, pistols, knives, and ammunition, to the teeth; and that the land was swarming with game.

"'Tis a perfect paradise!" exclaimed Tom Collins, as they reined up on the brow of a hill to gaze at the magnificent prospect before them.

"Strange," murmured Ned, half soliloquising, "that, although so wild and uncultivated, it should remind me so forcibly of home. Yonder bend in the stream, and the scenery round it, is so like to the spot where I was born, and where I spent my earliest years, that I can almost fancy the old house will come into view at the next turn."

"It does indeed remind one of the cultivated parks of England," replied Tom; "but almost all my early a.s.sociations are connected with cities. I have seen little of uncontaminated nature all my life, except the blue sky through chimney tops, and even that was seen through a medium of smoke."

"Do you know," remarked Ned, as they resumed their journey at a slow pace, "it has always seemed to me that cities are unnatural monstrosities, and that there should be no such things!"

"Indeed," replied Tom, laughing; "how, then, would you have men to live?"

"In the country, of course, in cottages and detached houses. I would sow London, Liverpool, Manchester, etcetera, broadcast over the land, so that there would be no spot in Britain in which there were not cl.u.s.ters of human dwellings, each with its little garden around it, and yet no spot on which a _city_ could be found."

"Hum, rather awkward for the transaction of business, I fear," suggested Tom.

"Not a bit; our distances would be greater, but we could overcome that difficulty by using horses more than we do--and railroads."

"And how would you manage with huge manufactories?" inquired Tom.

"I've not been able to solve that difficulty yet," replied Ned, smiling; "but my not being able to point out how things may be put right, does not, in the least degree, alter the fact that, as they are at present, they are wrong."

"Most true, my sagacious friend," said Tom; "but, pray, how do you prove the fact that things _are_ wrong?"