DESCRIBES AN INCIDENT OF DEVOURING INTEREST, AN UNEXPECTED VISIT, AND A
VIOLENT ASSAULT.
Next day our gold-hunters and the rescued men reached the forest, and
after resting a short time to recruit, continued their journey to the
diggings.
The particular part towards which their steps were directed was Bigbear
Gully, a small and comparatively unknown, because recently discovered,
gorge, opening out of the great Sacramento valley. On the way they
passed through a country the very reverse of that which had so nearly
cost them their lives. It was well wooded and watered, and abounded
with game of various kinds, particularly hares, deer, quails, and other
creatures; shooting these afforded pleasant pastime to the sporting
characters of the party, and consuming them was enjoyed by all without
exception!
Rance, the guide, now that he was separated from his comrade, turned out
to be a capital fellow, and, during the remainder of the journey, did
much to make the travellers harmonise. The party now consisted of our
hero and Joe Graddy, Jeffson the Yankee, Douglas the Scot, Meyer the
German, and Bradling; all of whom, excepting the last, were good and
true men. As for Bradling, no one could make out what he was, for at
times he was amiable and polite, while at other times he was savage and
morose.
One night the travellers reached a part of the mountains which was
densely covered with wood. As there was no moon, and it was almost
impossible to see a step before them, Rance called a halt.
"We must sleep here," he said to Jeffson. "I had half expected to make
out Bigbear Gully to-night, but the road is not safe; too many
precipices and steep parts, which require to be passed in daylight."
"Very good, Rance; then we had better set about encamping."
"'Tis a dreary-looking place," said Frank Allfrey, glancing round him.
"'Twill look more cheery when the fire is kindled," said Jeffson.
"Dismal enough to give a man the blues just now, anyhow," observed Joe
Graddy.
This was undoubtedly true. There is, perhaps, nothing more desolate,
more cheerless, more oppressive to the spirits, than the influence of
the woods at night. They are so dark, so black-looking and dismal, that
one is led irresistibly to contrast them with home and its bright
fireside and well-remembered faces--just as the starving man is led by
his condition to dream of rich feasts. In both cases the result is the
same. The dream of food makes the starving man's case more terrible,
and the thought of home makes the dreariness of the dark wilderness more
dismal.
But what magic there is in a spark of light! The first burst of flame
drives all the sad lonesome feelings away, and the blaze of the
increasing fire creates positively a home-feeling in the breast. The
reason of this is plain enough. Before the fire is kindled the eye
wanders restlessly through the dim light that may chance to straggle
among the trees. The mind follows the eye, and gets lost among
indistinct objects which it cannot understand. The feelings and the
faculties are scattered--fixed upon nothing, except perhaps on this,
that the wanderer is far, very far, from home. But when the bright
glare of the fire springs up, everything beyond the circle of light
becomes pure black. The thoughts and feelings are confined within that
chamber with the ebony walls, and are forcibly attracted and made to
rest upon the tree-stems, the leaves, the flowers, and other objects
that glow in the ruddy blaze. Thus the thoughts are collected, and the
wanderer feels, once more, something of the _home-feeling_.
It was not long before our travellers realised this agreeable change.
The depression of their spirits vanished with the darkness and rose with
the leaping flames, until some of the members of the party became quite
facetious. This was especially the case when supper had been disposed
of and the pipes were lighted. It was then that Rance became chatty and
anecdotal in his tendencies, and Jeffson told marvellous stories of
Yankee-land, and Douglas, who devoted himself chiefly to his pipe,
became an attentive listener and an awkward tripper up of the heels of
those who appeared to be "drawing the long-bow," and Meyer looked, if
possible, more solid and amiable than at other times, and Frank enjoyed
himself in a general way, and made himself generally agreeable, while
Joe Graddy became profoundly sententious. Even Bradling's nature
appeared to be softened, for he looked less forbidding and grumpy than
at other times, and once condescended to remark that a life in the woods
was not such a bad one after all!
"Not such a bad one!" cried Joe Graddy; "why, messmate, is that all
you've got to say about it? Now I'll give 'e my opinion on that head.
This is where it lies--see here." (Joe removed his pipe from his mouth
and held up his fore-finger by way of being very impressive.) "I've
travelled pretty well now in every quarter of the globe; gone right
round it in fact, and found that it _is_ round after all,--'cause why?
I went in, so to speak, at one end from the west'ard an' comed out at
the same end from the east'ard, though I must confess it all appeared to
me as flat's a pancake, always exceptin' the mountainous parts of it,
w'ich must be admitted to be lumpy. Hows'ever, as I wos sayin', I've
bin a'most all over the world--I've smoked wi' the Turks, an' hobnobbled
with John Chinaman, an' scrambled through the jungles of the Indies, an'
gone aloft the Himalayas--"
"What, have you seen the Himalayas?" asked Jeffson, with a doubtful
look.
"How could I be among 'em without seein' of 'em?" replied Joe.
"Ah, das is goot--vair goot," said Meyer, opening his huge mouth very
wide to let out a cloud of smoke and a quiet laugh.
"Well, but you know," said Jeffson, apologetically, "a poor fellow
livin' out here in the wilderness ain't just always quite up in the
gee-graphical changes that take place on the airth. When was it that
they cut a ship canal up to the Himalayas, and in what sort o' craft did
ye sail there?"
"I didn't go for to say I sailed there at all," retorted Joe; "I walked
it partly, and went part o' the way on elephants an' horses, and went
aloft o' them there mountains pretty nigh as far up as the main-topmast
cross-trees of 'em; I've also slep' in the snow-huts of the Eskimos, an'
bin tossed about in a'most every sort o' craft that swims, but wot I've
got to say is this, that of all the things I ever did see, travellin' in
Californy beats 'em all to sticks and stivers."
"You've got a somewhat indefinite way of stating things," observed
Douglas. "D'ee mean to say that it beats them in a good or a bad way?"
"I means wot I says," replied Joe, with a stern expression of
countenance, as he relighted his pipe with the burnt end of a piece of
stick. "I means that it beats 'em _both_ ways;--if ye haven't got
schoolin' enough to understand plain English, you'd better go home again
an' get your edicashun completed."
"I'd do that at once, Joe, if I could only make sure o' finding the
schoolmaster alive that reared _you_."
"Ha! goot," observed the German. "Him must be von notable krakter."
Further conversation on this point was cut short by the sudden
appearance within the circle of light of an Indian, who advanced in a
half-crouching attitude, as if he feared a bad reception, yet could not
resist the attraction of the fire.
At that time some of the tribes in the neighbourhood of Bigbear Gully
had committed numerous depredations at the diggings, and had murdered
several white men, so that the latter had begun to regard the Red Men as
their natural enemies. Indeed some of the more violent among them had
vowed that they would treat them as vermin, and shoot down every native
they chanced to meet, whether he belonged to the guilty tribe or not.
The Indian who now approached the camp-fire of the white men knew that
he had good ground to fear the nature of his reception, and there is no
doubt that it would have been an unpleasant one had it not been for the
fact that his appearance was pitiable in the extreme.
He was squalid, dirty, and small, and so attenuated that it was evident
he had for some time been suffering from starvation. He wore no
clothing, carried no arms of any kind, and was so utterly abject, and so
evidently incapable of doing harm to any one, that none of the party
thought it worth while to rise, or lay hands on a weapon. When he
appeared, Joe Graddy merely pointed to him with the stem of his pipe and
said--
"There's a beauty, ain't it? another of the cooriosities of Californy!"
"Starvin'," observed Rance.
"Poor wretch!" exclaimed Frank, as the man advanced slowly with timid
steps, while his large sunken eyes absolutely glared at the broken meat
which lay scattered about.
"Give him von morsel," suggested Meyer.
"Give him a bullet in his dirty carcase," growled Bradling.
The Indian stopped when within ten paces of the fire and grinned
horribly.
"Here, stop up your ghastly mouth wi' that," cried Jeffson, tossing a
lump of salt-pork towards him.
He caught it with the dexterity of a monkey, and, squatting down on the
trunk of a fallen tree, devoured it with the ravenous ferocity of a
famishing hyena. The piece of pork would have been a sufficient meal
for any ordinary man, but it quickly vanished down the throat of the
savage, who licked his fingers, and, with eyes which required no tongue
to interpret their meaning, asked for more!
"Look out!" cried Joe Graddy, tossing him a sea biscuit as one throws a
quoit.
The Indian caught it deftly; crash went his powerful teeth into the hard
mass, and in an incredibly short time it was--with the pork!
The whole party were so highly amused by this, that they "went in," as
Jeffson said, "for an evening's entertainment." One tossed the poor man
a cut of ham, another a slice of pork, a third a mass of bread, and so
they continued to ply him with victuals, determined to test his powers
to the uttermost.
"Try another bit of pork," said Douglas, laughing, as he threw him a cut
as large as the first; "you've finished all the cooked meat now."
The Indian caught it eagerly, and began to devour it as though he had
eaten nothing.
"He's tightening up like a drum," observed Jeffson, handing him a greasy
wedge off a raw flitch of bacon.
"Him vill boost," said Meyer, staring at the Indian and smoking slowly,
owing to the strength of his amazement.
"Jack the Giant Killer was a joke to him," muttered Graddy.
"A bottomless pit," observed Rance, referring to his stomach.
The Indian, however, proved that Rance was wrong by suddenly coming to a
dead halt and dropping the last morsel he was in the act of raising to
his mouth. He then heaved a deep sigh and looked round on the whole
party with a radiant smile, which was literally sparkling by reason of
the firelight which glittered on his greasy countenance.
"What! stuffed full at last?" exclaimed Jeffson, as they all burst into
a fit of laughter.
"Ay, chock full to the beams," said Joe Graddy; "moreover, hatches
battened down, topsails shook out, anchor up, and away!"
This was indeed the case. Having eaten as much as he could hold, the
poor Indian attempted to rise and walk off, but he suddenly fell down,
and rolled about groaning and rubbing himself as if in great agony. The
alarmed travellers began to fear that the poor little man had
absolutely, as Joe said, eaten himself to death. He recovered, however,
in a few minutes, rose again with some difficulty, and went off in the
midst of a splendid burst of moonlight which appeared to have come out
expressly to light him on his way! His gait was awkward, and he was
obliged to sit down every twenty or thirty yards like a man resting
under a heavy load. When last seen on his diminutive legs he looked
like a huge bloated spider waddling into the obscurity of the forest.
"How disgusting!" perhaps exclaims the reader. True, yet not _much_
more disgusting than the gormandising which goes on among too many
civilised men, who, besides possessing better knowledge, have got
dyspepsia to inform them that they daily act the part of the Californian
savage, while many learned doctors, we believe, tell them that it is not
so much quality as quantity that kills.
That eventful night did not terminate, however, with the departure of
the Indian. Another scene was enacted, but, unlike the popular mode of
theatrical procedure, the farce was followed by a tragedy.
Before lying down to rest, the fire was drawn together, fresh logs were
heaped upon it, and a great blaze was made to scare away the wolves.
Frank, Jeffson, and Douglas, then rolled themselves in their blankets,
and lay down with their feet towards the fire and their rifles beside
them. The others lighted their pipes for a finishing whiff--a nightcap
as Joe styled it.
They had not sat long thus, making occasional quiet remarks, as fatigued
and sleepy men are wont to do before going to rest, when they were
startled by the sound of heavy footsteps in the woods. Rance, whose
duty it was to keep watch the first part of the night, instantly leaped
up and cocked his rifle, while the sleepers awoke, raised themselves on
their elbows, and looked about somewhat bewildered.
Before any one had time to act or speak, a man, clad in the flannel
shirt, heavy boots, etcetera, of a miner, strode into the circle of
light, with the air of one whose intentions are peaceful.
"Evening, strangers," he said, looking round and setting the butt of a
long rifle on the ground; "I've got lost. You'll not object to let me
rest a bit by your fire, I daresay--hallo!"
The latter exclamation was uttered when the stranger's eyes fell on
Bradling, who was gazing at him with the expression of a man who had
seen a ghost. At the same time the stranger threw forward his rifle,
and his countenance became unusually pale.
For two seconds each looked at the other in profound silence, which was
only broken by the sharp click of the lock as the stranger cocked his
piece.
Like a flash of lightning Bradling plucked a revolver from his belt,
pointed full at the man's breast and fired. He fell without uttering a
cry, and his rifle exploded as he went down, but the ball passed
harmlessly over the heads of the party.
For a few seconds the travellers stood as if paralysed, and Bradling
himself remained motionless, gazing sullenly on his victim. Then Frank
Allfrey leaped upon him, and grasping him by the throat wrenched the
pistol out of his hand.
"Murderer!" he exclaimed, tightening his hold, as Bradling struggled to
release himself.
"I'm no murderer," gasped Bradling; "you saw as well as I did that the
fellow threatened to shoot me. Besides, he is not dead."
"That's true," said Joe Graddy, turning towards the fallen man, whom
Rance and some of the others were examining, and who had showed some
symptoms of returning consciousness; "but his wound is a bad one, and if
you ain't a murderer yet, pr'aps it won't be long afore ye are one."
Hearing this Frank flung Bradling violently off, and turned to examine
the wounded man. As he did so the other pointed his pistol deliberately
at Frank's back, fired, and then sprang into the woods. Before he had
quite disappeared, however, each man who could seize his gun or pistol
in time fired a shot after him, but apparently without effect, for
although they examined the bushes carefully afterwards no marks of blood
could be found.
Fortunately the miscreant missed Frank, yet so narrowly that the ball
had touched his hair as it whistled past his ear.
The wounded man was as carefully tended as was possible in the
circumstances, but neither on that night nor the following day did he
recover sufficiently to be able to give any account of himself. He was
left at the first "ranch" they came to next day, with directions from
Frank that he should be cared for and sent back to Sacramento city as
soon as possible. Our hero was unable of course to pay his expenses,
but he and all the party contributed a small sum, which, with the gold
found on the stranger's person, was sufficient to satisfy the ranchero,
who appeared to be a more amiable man than the rest of his class. To
secure as far as possible the faithful performance of his duty, Frank
earnestly assured him that if he was attentive to the man he would give
him something additional on his return from the diggings.
"That's very good of you, sir," said the ranchero with a peculiar smile,
"but I wouldn't promise too much if I were you. Mayhap you won't be
able to fulfil it. All gold-diggers don't make fortunes."
"Perhaps not," said Frank; "but few of them, I believe, fail to make
enough to pay off their debts."
"H'm, except those who die," said the ranchero.
"Well, but _I_ am not going to die," said Frank with a smile.
"I hope not. All the young and strong ones seem to think as you do when
they go up; but I have lived here, off an' on, since the first rush and
all I can say is that I have seen a lot more men go up to the diggin's
than ever I saw come down from 'em; and, of those who did return, more
were poor than rich, while very few of 'em looked either as stout or as
cheerful as they did when passing up."
"Come, shut up your potato-trap, old man, and don't try to take the
heart out of us all in that fashion," said Jeffson; "but let's have a
feed of the best you have in the house, for we're all alive and kicking
as yet, anyhow, and not too poor to pay our way; and, I say, let's have
some home-brewed beer if you can, because we've got a German with us,
and a haggis also for our Scotchman."
"You have forgotten roast-beef for the Englishman," said Frank,
laughing.
"I daresay you won't want sauce," observed the host with an air of
simplicity; "my meat never seems to want it when there's a Yankee in the
room."
Saying this the worthy ranchero went to work, and speedily supplied the
travellers with a meal consisting of hard biscuit and rancid pork, with
a glass of bitter brandy to wash it down; for which he charged them the
sum of eight shillings a head.