THE PAPER IN THE OLD TIN BOX
Slowly out of that mysterious gloom there grew a shape before Rod's
eyes. At first it was only a shadow, then it might have been a rock,
and then the gulp in his throat leaped out in a shout when he saw that
Wabigoon's sharp eyes had in truth discovered the old cabin of the
map. For what else could it be? What else but the wilderness home of
the adventurers whose skeletons they had found, Peter Plante and Henri
Langlois, and John Ball, the man whom these two had murdered?
Rod's joyous voice was like the touch of fire to Wabi's enthusiasm and
in a moment the oppressive silence of their journey down the chasm was
broken by the wild cheers which the young gold seekers sent echoing
between the mountains. Grimacing and chuckling in his own curious way,
Mukoki was already slipping along the edge of the rock, seeking some
break by which he might reach the lower chasm. They were on the point
of turning to the ascent of the mountain, along which they would have
to go until they found such a break, when the old pathfinder directed
the attention of his companions to the white top of a dead cedar stub
projecting over the edge of the precipice.
"Go down that, mebby," he suggested, shrugging his shoulders to
suggest that the experiment might be a dangerous one.
Rod looked over. The top of the stub was within easy reach, and the
whole tree was entirely free of bark or limbs, a fact which in his
present excitement did not strike him as especially unusual. Swinging
his rifle strap over his shoulders he reached out, caught the slender
apex of the stub, and before the others could offer a word of
encouragement or warning was sliding down the wall of the rock into
the chasm. Wabi was close behind him, and not waiting for Mukoki's
descent the two boys hurried toward the cabin. Half-way to it Wabi
stopped.
"This isn't fair. We've got to wait for Muky."
They looked back. Mukoki was not following. The old warrior was upon
his knees at the base of the dead tree, as though he was searching for
something among the rocks at its foot. Then he rose slowly, and rubbed
his hands along the stub as high as he could reach. When he saw that
Rod and Wabi were observing him he quickly came toward them, and
Wabigoon, who was quick to notice any change in him, was confident
that he had made a discovery of some kind.
"What have you found, Muky?"
"No so ver' much. Funny tree," grunted the Indian.
"Smooth as a fireman's brass pole," added Rod, seeing no significance
in Mukoki's words. "Listen!"
He stopped so suddenly that Wabigoon bumped into him from behind.
"Did you hear that?"
"No."
For a few moments the three huddled close together in watchful
silence. Mukoki was behind the boys or they would have seen that his
rifle was ready to spring to his shoulder and that his black eyes were
snapping with something not aroused by curiosity alone. The cabin was
not more than twenty paces away. It was old, so old that Rod wondered
how it had withstood the heavy storms of the last winter. A growth of
saplings had found root in its rotting roof and the logs of which it
was built were in the last stage of decay. There was no window,
and where the door had once been there had grown a tree a foot in
diameter, almost closing the narrow aperture through which the
mysterious inhabitants had passed years before. A dozen paces, five
paces from this door, and Mukoki's hand reached out and laid itself
gently upon Wabi's shoulder. Rod saw the movement and stopped. A
strange look had come into the old Indian's face, an expression in
which there was incredulity and astonishment, as if he believed and
yet doubted what his eyes beheld. Mutely he pointed to the tree
growing before the door, and to the reddish, crumbling rot into which
the logs had been turned by the passing of generations.
"Red pine," he said at last. "That cabin more'n' twent' t'ous'nd year
old!"
There was an awesome ring in his voice. Rod understood, and clutched
Wabi's arm. In an instant he thought of the other old cabin, in which
they had found the skeletons. They had repaired that cabin and had
passed the winter in it, and they knew that it had been built half a
century or more before. But this cabin was beyond repair. To Rod it
seemed as though centuries of time instead of decades had been at work
on its timbers. Following close after Wabi he thrust his head through
the door. Deep gloom shut out their vision. But as they looked,
steadily inuring their eyes to the darkness within, the walls of the
old cabin took form, and they saw that everywhere was vacancy. There
was no ancient table, as in the other cabin they had discovered at the
head of the first chasm, there were no signs of the life that had once
existed, not even the remnants of a chair or a stool. The cabin was
bare.
Foot by foot the two boys went around its walls. Mukoki took but a
single glance inside and disappeared. Once alone he snapped down the
safety of his rifle. Quickly, as if he feared interruption, he hurried
around the old cabin, his eyes close to the earth. When Rod and Wabi
returned to the door he was at the edge of the fall, crouching low
among the rocks like an animal seeking a trail. Wabi pulled his
companion back.
"Look!"
The old warrior rose, suddenly erect, and turned toward them, but the
boys were hidden in the gloom. Then he hurried to the dead stub beside
the chasm wall. Again he reached far up, rubbing his hand along its
surface.
"I'm going to have a look at that tree!" whispered Wabi. "Something is
puzzling Mukoki. Are you coming?"
He hurried across the rock-strewn opening, but Rod hung back. He could
not understand his companions. For weeks and months they had planned
to find this third waterfall. Visions of a great treasure had been
constantly before their eyes, and now that they were here, with the
gold perhaps under their very feet, both Mukoki and Wabigoon were more
interested in a dead stub than in their search for it! His own heart
was almost bursting with excitement. The very air which he breathed
in the old cabin set his blood leaping with anticipation. Here those
earlier adventurers had lived half a century or more ago. In it the
life-blood of the murdered John Ball might have ebbed away. In this
cabin the men whose skeletons he had found had slept, and planned, and
measured their gold. And the gold! It was that and not the stub that
interested Roderick Drew! Where was the lost treasure? Surely the old
cabin must hold some clue for them, it would at least tell them more
than the limbless white corpse of a tree!
From the door he looked back into the dank gloom, straining his eyes
to see, and then glanced across the opening. Wabi had reached the
stub, and both he and Mukoki were on their knees beside it. Probably
they have found the marks of a lynx or a bear, thought Rod. A dozen
paces away something else caught his eyes, a fallen red pine, dry and
heavy with pitch, and in less than a minute he had gone to it and was
back with a torch. Breathlessly he touched the tiny flame of a match
to the stick. For a moment the pitch sputtered and hissed, then flared
into light, and Rod held the burning wood above his head.
The young gold seeker's first look about him was disappointing.
Nothing but the bare walls met his eyes. Then, in the farthest corner,
he observed something that in the dancing torch-light was darker than
the logs themselves, and he moved toward it. It was a tiny shelf, not
more than a foot long, and upon it was a small tin box, black and
rust-eaten by the passing of ages. With trembling fingers Rod took it
in his hand. It was very light, probably empty. In it he might find
the dust of John Ball's last tobacco. Then, suddenly, as he thought of
this, he stopped in his search and a muffled exclamation of surprise
fell from him. In the glow of the torch he looked at the tin box. It
was crumbling with age and he might easily have crushed it in his
hand--and yet it was still a tin box! If this box had remained why
had not other things? Where were the pans and kettles, the pail and
frying-pan, knives, cups and other articles which John Ball and the
two Frenchmen must at one time have possessed in this cabin?
He returned to the door. Mukoki and Wabigoon were still at the dead
stub. Even the flare of light in the old cabin had not attracted them.
Tossing his torch away Rod tore off the top of the tin box. Something
fell at his feet, and as he reached for it he saw that it was a little
roll of paper, almost as discolored as the rust-eaten box itself. As
gently as Mukoki had unrolled the precious birchbark map a few months
before he smoothed out the paper. The edges of it broke and crumbled
under his fingers, but the inner side of the roll was still quite
white. Mukoki and Wabigoon, looking back, saw him suddenly turn toward
them with a shrill cry on his lips, and the next instant he was racing
in their direction, shouting wildly at every step.
"The gold!" he shrieked. "The gold! Hurrah!"
He was almost sobbing in his excitement when he stopped between them,
holding out the bit of paper.
"I found it in the cabin--in a tin box! See, it's John Ball's
writing--the writing that was on the old map! I found it--in a tin
box--"
Wabi seized the paper. His own breath came more quickly when he saw
what was upon it. There were a few lines of writing, dim but still
legible, and a number of figures. Across the top of the paper was
written,
"Account of John Ball, Henri Langlois, and Peter Plante for month
ending June thirtieth, 1859."
Below these lines was the following:
"Plante's work: nuggets, 7 pounds, nine ounces; dust, 1 pound, 3
ounces. Langlois' work: nuggets, 9 pounds, 13 ounces; dust, none.
Ball's work: nuggets, 6 pounds, 4 ounces; dust, 2 pounds, 3 ounces.
Total, 27 pounds.
Plante's share, 6 pounds, 12 ounces.
Langlois' share, 6 pounds, 12 ounces.
Ball's share, 13 pounds, 8 ounces.
Division made."
Softly Wabigoon read the words aloud. When he finished his eyes met
Rod's, Mukoki was still crouching at the foot of the stub, staring at
the two boys in silence, as if stupefied by what he had just heard.
"This doesn't leave a doubt," said Wabi at last. "We've struck the
right place!"
"The gold is somewhere--very near--"
Rod could not master the tremble in his voice. As though hoping to see
the yellow treasure heaped in a pile before his eyes he turned to the
waterfall, to the gloomy walls of the chasm, and finally extended an
arm to where the spring torrent, leaping over the edge of the chasm
above, beat itself into frothing rage among the rocks between the two
mountains.
"It's there!"
"In the stream?"
"Yes. Where else near this cabin would they have found pure nuggets
of gold? Surely not in rock! And gold-dust is always in the sands of
streams. It's there--without a doubt!"
Both Indians went with him to the edge of the water.
"The creek widens here until it is very shallow," said Wabi. "I don't
believe that it is more than four feet deep out there in the middle.
What do you say--" He paused as he saw Mukoki slip back to the dead
stub again, then went on, "What do you say to making a trip to the
canoe after grub for our dinner, and the pans?"
The first flash of enthusiasm that had filled Wabigoon on reading the
paper discovered by Rod was quickly passing away, and the white youth
could not but notice the change which came over both Mukoki and his
young friend when they stood once more beside the smooth white stub
that reached up to the floor of the chasm above. He controlled his
own enthusiasm enough to inspect more closely the dead tree which had
affected them so strangely. The discovery he made fairly startled him.
The surface of the stub was not only smooth and free of limbs, but was
polished until it shone with the reflecting luster of a waxed pillar!
For a moment he forgot the paper which he held in his hand, forgot
the old cabin, and the nearness of gold. In blank wonder he stared at
Mukoki, and the old Indian shrugged his shoulders.
"Ver' nice an' smooth!"
"Ver' dam' smooth!" emphasized Wabi, without a suggestion of humor in
his voice.
"What does it mean?" asked Rod.
"It means," continued Wabigoon, "that this old stub has for a good
many years been used by something as a sort of stairway in and out of
this chasm! Now if it were a bear, there would be claw marks. If it
were a lynx, the surface of the stub would be cut into shreds. Any
kind of animal would have left his mark behind, and no animal would
have put this polish on it!"
"Then what in the world--"
Rod did not finish. Mukoki lifted his shoulders to a level with his
chin, and Wabi whistled as he looked straight at him.
"Not a hard guess, eh?"
"You mean--"
"That it's a man! Only the arms and legs of a man going up and down
that stub hundreds and thousands of times could have worn it so
smooth! Now, can you guess who that man is?"
In a flash the answer shot into Rod's brain. He understood now why
this old stub had drawn his companions away from their search for
gold, and he felt the flush of excitement go out of his own cheeks,
and an involuntary thrill pass up his back.
"The mad hunter!"
Wabi nodded. Mukoki grunted and rubbed his hands.
"Gold in bullet come from here!" said the old pathfinder. "Bad dog man
ver' swift on trail. We hurry get canoe--cut down tree!"
"That's more than you've said in the last half-hour, and it's a good
idea!" exclaimed Wabi. "Let's get our stuff down here and chop this
stub into firewood! When he comes back and finds his ladder gone he'll
give a screech or two, I'll wager, and then it will be our chance to
do something with him. Here goes!"
He started to climb the stub, and a minute or two later stood safely
on the rock above.
"Slippery as a greased pole!" he called down. "Bet you can't make it,
Rod!"
But Rod did, after a tremendous effort that left him breathless and
gasping by the time Wabi stretched out a helping hand to him. Mukoki
came up more easily. Taking only their revolvers with them the
three hurried to the birch bark, and in a single load brought their
possessions to the rock. By means of ropes the packs and other
contents of the canoe, and finally the canoe itself, were lowered into
the chasm, and while the others looked on Mukoki seized the ax and
chopped down the stub.
"There!" he grunted, as a last blow sent the tree crashing among the
rocks. "Too high for heem jump!"
"But a mighty good place for him to shoot from," said Wabi, looking
up. "We'd better camp out of range."
"Not until we know what we've struck," cried Rod, unstrapping a pan
from one of the packs. "Boys, the first thing to do is to wash out a
little of that river-bed!"
He started for the creek, with Wabi close behind him bearing a second
pan. Mukoki looked after them and chuckled softly to himself as he
began making preparations for dinner. Choosing a point where the
current had swept up a small bar of pebbles and sand Wabi and Rod both
set to work. The white youth had never before panned gold, but he
had been told how it was done, and there now shot through him that
strange, thrilling excitement which enthralls the treasure hunter
when he believes that at last he has struck pay dirt. Scooping up a
quantity of the gravel and sand he filled his pan with water, then
moved it quickly back and forth, every few moments splashing some of
the "wash" or muddy water, over the side. Thus, filling and refilling
his pan with fresh water, he excitedly went through the process of
"washing" everything but solid substance out of it.
With each fresh dip into the stream the water in the pan became
clearer, and within fifteen minutes the three or four double handfuls
of sand and gravel with which he began work dwindled down to one.
Scarcely breathing in his eagerness he watched for the yellow gleam of
gold. Once a glitter among the pebbles drew a low cry from him, but
when with the point of his knife he found it to be only mica he was
glad that Wabi had not heard him. The young Indian was squatting upon
the sand, with his pan turned toward a gleam of the sun that shot
faintly down into the chasm. Without raising his head he called to
Rod.
"Found anything?"
"No. Have you?"
"No--yes--but I don't think it's gold."
"What does it look like?"
"It gleams yellow but is as hard as steel."
"Mica!" said Rod.
Neither of the boys looked up during the conversation. With the point
of his hunting-knife Rod still searched in the bottom of his pan,
turning over the pebbles and raking the gravelly sand with a
painstaking care that would have made a veteran gold seeker laugh.
Some minutes had passed when Wabi spoke again.
"I say, Rod, that's a funny-looking thing I found! If it wasn't so
hard I'd swear it was gold? Want to see it?"
"It's mica," repeated Rod, as another gleam of "fool's gold" in his
own pan caught his eyes. "The stream is full of it!"
"Never saw mica in chunks before," mumbled Wabi, bending low over his
pan.
"Chunks!" cried Rod, straightening as if some one had run a pin into
his back. "How big is it?"
"Big as a pea--a big pea!"
The words were no sooner out of the young Indian's mouth than Roderick
was upon his feet and running to his companion.
"Mica doesn't come in chunks! Where--"
He bent over Wabi's pan. In the very middle of it lay a suspiciously
yellow pebble, worn round and smooth by the water, and when Rod took
it in his fingers he gave a low whistle of mock astonishment as he
gazed down into Wabigoon's face.
"Wabi, I'm ashamed of you!" he said, trying hard to choke back the
quiver in his voice. "Mica doesn't come in round chunks like this.
Mica isn't heavy. And this is _both_!"
From the cedars beyond the old cabin came Mukoki's whooping signal
that dinner was ready.