THE SIGN OF THE TWO RED THUMBS
At the date of the happenings here recorded, 1849, the greater part of
California was still an unbroken wilderness, inhabited only by scattered
tribes of Indians and the wild beasts. For some three hundred years the
Spaniards and the Mexicans had occupied a few choice spots along the
coast, with now and then an isolated ranchero in the great interior
valleys of the Sacramento and the San Joaquin Rivers. Then, in 1846, had
come the War with Mexico and the Conquest of California by the
Americans, swiftly followed by the discovery of gold in 1848 and the
great inflow of gold-seekers from all parts of the world of 1849 and
later, who, of course, all rushed pell-mell to the gold regions, leaving
the rest of California more thinly populated than ever. Indeed, in 1849,
all California, except the gold regions, was practically deserted; and,
since the gold regions were located in what had been, a few weeks
before, a mountainous wilderness, nearly everybody in California was
living in the wilderness, and, necessarily, living under primitive
wilderness conditions--a wild, free, independent sort of a life that
quickly brought to the surface the real character of each individual.
Such, then, was the California of 1849, the California of Thure and Bud;
and such were the conditions of the life, the wild romantic life of the
wilderness mining camps, toward which we left our young friends
hastening, their unwilling pack-horses pulling and tugging on the ropes
which were dragging them away from the home-pastures, when we rode a
little way on the homeward journey with Iola and Ruth.
Now, to return to Thure and Bud.
The Conroyal rancho was situated in the Lower Sacramento Valley, some
two-days' journey from Sutter's Fort, near which the City of Sacramento
on the Sacramento River had sprung into a sudden and marvelous
existence; and, as Sacramento City was then the final rendezvous of all
those bound for the mines, some forty miles in the wilderness of
mountains to the east, Thure and Bud, naturally, had headed straight for
this town, intending, when there, to find someone going to Hangtown,
with whom they might journey to this mining camp, where they hoped to
find their fathers and their friends. Both boys were well acquainted
with the trail to Sutter's Fort, having been there frequently with their
fathers; and, since Sacramento City was only a couple of miles or so
from Sutter's Fort, they would have no difficulty in finding their way
thither. The trail, for the greater part of the distance, ran through
beautiful valleys and over low-lying hills, where nature still reigned
unfretted by man and where a human being was seldom seen, consequently
Thure and Bud expected to have a lonely ride to Sacramento City.
For some little while after the departure of the two girls neither boy
spoke. Somehow they did not feel like talking, not even about the
wonderful Cave of Gold, nor the skin map, nor the death of the old
miner. They were thinking of home and the dear ones from whom they had
parted for they knew not how long; and, when boys are thinking deeply of
such things, they do not like talking. But, gloom and sadness cannot
long conquer the spirits of any normal boy; and, at the end of an hour's
riding they were their own lively and talkative selves again.
"I wonder if we can make our old camping-ground to-night?" Thure
questioned doubtfully, as they came to a halt, a little before noon, on
the top of a steep ridge to give their horses a short rest. "If I
remember right, this ridge is not nearly half-way to the place where dad
and I always camped when we went to Sutter's Fort; and it must be nearly
noon now," and he glanced upward at the sun, which was fast nearing the
zenith. "Say, but these old pack-horses are as slow as oxen. I wonder if
we can't do something to hurry them up?"
"We've got to make the old camping-ground tonight, if it takes us till
midnight," Bud answered emphatically. "That is, we've got to, if we
expect to get to Sacramento City to-morrow; and that's where I, for one,
expect to be sometime to-morrow night. I reckon, we'll have to drive
them pack-horses in front of us and use the whip a little."
"A bully idea," Thure agreed. "I wonder why we did not think of it
before. Here, you old slowpoke, get up!" and, whirling his horse around,
he suddenly rode up behind his pack-horse and gave that animal a quick
blow with his whip.
The scheme worked splendidly; and the two boys were soon on their way
again and moving at a considerably increased speed. But, notwithstanding
their accelerated motion, it was not until some three hours after sunset
that the two tired boys and the four tired horses reached the old
camping-grounds, where there was an abundance of water for themselves
and horses and fuel for the camp-fire.
"Well, I swun I am tired!" Thure exclaimed, as he threw himself down
with a sigh of satisfaction on his blanket before the camp-fire, when,
at last, the horses had been unsaddled and unbridled and unpacked and
picketed where they could feed on the rich grass, and the two boys had
eaten their rude meal of broiled venison--they had shot a young deer on
their way--and homemade bread, washed down by a huge tin cup full of
coffee of their own brewing.
"I reckon you are not the only tired boy in this camp to-night," and Bud
spread out his blanket on the ground by the side of Thure's and
stretched himself out on it. "Every bone and muscle in my body has been
just a-teasing me for the last two hours to let up and give them a rest.
Well, we got here anyhow; and I guess we can now make Sacramento City
all right to-morrow night. Say," and he sat up on his blanket with a
jerk at the thought that had suddenly come to him, "do you suppose those
two villains, who robbed and killed the old miner, have found out that
we have the skin map that they committed murder in vain to get? If they
have, I reckon we'll have to be on the lookout for them good and sharp.
Why, they might be on our trail even now!"
"You are right," and Thure sat up quickly. "But I can't see just how
they could know that we have the map. They certainly didn't wait for
introductions when we charged down upon them; and I don't believe they
followed us home--they were too scart, the cowards! But, as Kit Carson
says: 'The time to be cautious is before the Indians get your scalp--not
afterwards.' I reckon that means that we've got to keep guard to-night;
and I don't believe I ever felt more sleepy," and Thure sighed. "But, if
Brokennose and Pockface should happen to be on our trail, they couldn't
ask for anything better than to get us two here alone and asleep
to-night. They sure would have the skin map in the morning, and,
probably, our horses and supplies, and, possibly, our lives. Say, but I
just would like to meet them two cowards when I am awake!" and Thure's
eyes glinted wrathfully.
"Well, I should not be surprised if we had that pleasure before long,"
and Bud's face hardened. "If the old miner told them of the Cave of Gold
and the skin map, and he said he did, they sure will be on the lookout
for the party with the map; and it wouldn't take much inquiring for them
to find out that it was us that brought the dead miner home; and then, I
reckon, it won't take them two minutes to guess what started us so
sudden-like for the mines. I sure hope they won't find us until we get
to our dads and Rex and Dill and Hammer Jones. I'd feel safe enough
then. You see, we are guarding not only our lives, but also the Cave of
Gold; and the finding of that cave means a lot to all of us."
"It sure does," Thure agreed. "Luck has been against both of our dads
lately; and, well, we've just got to find that Cave of Gold; and we are
going to find it, in spite of all the broken noses and pockmarked faces
in the world. But, it won't do to sit here talking all night. We must
get all the sleep we can. Who will stand guard first?"
"I will," Bud answered, picking up his rifle and rising; "so get into
your blanket and asleep as quick as you can. It must be almost midnight
now."
"All right," and Thure began rolling himself up in his blanket. "Wake me
in about two hours, and I'll stand guard the rest of the night. We want
to be on our way as soon as it is light enough to see. Good night," and
in five minutes Thure was as dead to his surroundings as the log near
which he lay.
Bud picked up his blanket and moved off into the dark shadows of the
low-hanging branches of an evergreen oak and out of the light of the
camp-fire, where he could watch, seeing but unseen.
The night had grown dark and cool--all California nights are chilly; and
Bud wrapped his blanket around him and, leaning up against the trunk of
the tree, looked out into the darkness surrounding the lone camp-fire.
In the distance a coyote was making the night hideous with his
demoniacal howlings. From a near tree came the lonesome hoot of an owl.
All else was still, save from all around came the mysterious sounds of
the wilderness at night, suggestive of the low whisperings and talking
of uneasy spirits.
But all this was commonplace to Bud. He had often spent the night out in
the open, had often stood guard by a lonely camp-fire, when darkness was
all around and only the weird voices of the night were heard; and he
gave little thought to these things. He was very tired and very sleepy
and it took about all the thought power he had to compel himself to stay
awake.
An hour past. There had not been a suspicious sound nor movement; and
Bud began to feel more secure, began to relax some of his vigilance,
began to close his eyes now and then for a brief moment, began to lean
more comfortably against the trunk of the tree--then, suddenly, he
straightened himself up with a jerk, his eyes wide open, his cocked
rifle held ready for instant use. Sure he had heard a sound, a sound
that did not belong to the night, a thud like the fall of some heavy
body on soft ground, and coming from the direction of the camp-fire! For
a moment he stared, tense with excitement, toward the camp-fire, now
glowing dully; but he saw nothing unusual, heard nothing unusual. Thure
still lay by the side of the log, his form showing faintly in the dull
light. The horses were grazing quietly--he could just distinguish their
forms through the darkness. They showed no alarm.
"Queer! I certainly heard something fall; and right near! Well, I reckon
I had better make sure that everything is all right with Thure," and Bud
very cautiously stepped out from the shadows of the tree and, moving
softly, crept up to where Thure lay. His deep regular breathing told him
that he was sound asleep and that all was well with him.
"Must have been dreaming," he muttered in disgust, and returned to his
station under the tree; but he did not close his eyes again.
There were no other suspicious sounds during the remainder of his watch,
nor during the watch of Thure; and the dawning of morning found both
boys and all their belongings safe and sound.
"Did you see or hear anything suspicious during your watch?" was Bud's
first query, when Thure awoke him the next morning.
"No. Why?" answered Thure. "Did you?"
"Well, I--I don't know," and Bud jumped to his feet and began looking
sharply around over the ground near the camp-fire.
Suddenly he uttered an exclamation and, bending quickly down, picked up
a large flat stone that was lying between the log, near which Thure had
slept, and the camp-fire.
"I--I don't remember of seeing this stone here last night," and he
turned it over curiously; and then uttered another exclamation that
brought Thure to his side on the jump.
The stone was flat, some three inches thick, nearly round, and,
possibly, a foot in diameter. One side was nearly white and smooth; and
the astonished eyes of the boys read, rudely written on this side,
evidently with a piece of charred coal, these ominous words:
LEVE THE MAP TO THE MINERS CAVE UNDER THIS STON NEAR YOUR CAMP FIRE
WHEN YOU BRAKE CAMP IN THE MORNING AND NEVER TELL NOBODY WHAT THE
MINER TOLD YOU ABOUT THE CAVE--OR WELL GIT YOU THE SAME AS WE GOT
THE MINER--LIFE IS WURTH MOREN GOLD AND YOULL NEVER LIVE TO GIT THE
GOLD.
Under these words were the red prints of two thumbs--one the mark of a
huge thumb and the other the mark of a much smaller thumb--as if their
owners had covered their thumbs with blood and then pressed them against
the stone, in lieu of signatures.
For a full two minutes the two boys stood staring at these words, their
faces whitening and their eyes widening.
"How--how did this get here?" Thure was the first to speak.
For answer Bud leaped to the log, by the side of which Thure had slept,
and, bending over it, looked closely at the ground on the other side.
"Right from behind this log!" he exclaimed, after a moment's scrutiny of
the ground. "The fellow that threw that stone crept up behind this log
and then got up on his knees and tossed the rock to where we found it.
You can still see the prints of his knees and toes in the ground. I
thought I heard a sound like the fall of something heavy during my
watch; but I was half asleep when I heard it," and Bud's face flushed a
little; "and when I couldn't see anything suspicious or find anything
suspicious or hear any more suspicious sounds, I concluded I had only
fancied I had heard the sound. But that is sure no fancy," and his eyes
glared at the stone, which Thure still held.
"And I was sound asleep right on the other side of that log at that very
moment!" and Thure's weather-bronzed face whitened a little. "No more
logs for bedfellows for me!"
"Yes, and he must have been lying right on the other side of that log,
when I bent over you to see if you were all right," added Bud. "If I'd
been only smart enough to look, it might have saved us from a lot of
trouble," and Bud's lips tightened grimly.
"Better as it is," Thure declared. "Now, we've had our warning and
nobody hurt; but, if you had discovered the fellow behind the log,
they'd have got you, sure, and, probably, me, too. Both were doubtless
on hand; and would have shot you before you could have done anything, if
you had discovered one of them. Now, I reckon, if they had found the
camp unguarded, they were intending to have a try for the map then and
there--and they would have got it! Well, what do you think about doing
as they ask, and leaving the map under the stone? It seems from what
that stone says--"
"What!" and Bud turned in astonishment to Thure. "Give up that map to a
couple of the biggest cowards and cut-throats in California? I'd sooner
give them every drop of blood in my body. I--"
"Well, you need not get so rambunctuous over it," laughed Thure. "But,"
and his face sobered, "I reckon that that there is no idle threat," and
he pointed to the flat stone, which now lay on the ground at his feet;
"and I fancy the sooner we get to our dads the better it will be for us.
Not that I'd be afraid of those two skunks," he added hastily, "if
they'd come out in the open, where one could see them; but I do not care
for any more creeping upon a fellow in the dark, when he's asleep," and
he glanced shudderingly toward the log. "But, there is no use of talking
any more about it. Let's get busy. We must make Sacramento City to-night
sure."
In a very short time breakfast was eaten, the horses saddled and bridled
and packed, and the two boys ready to mount and to start on their way
again.
"Now, for our answer to that there message," and Thure picked up the
flat stone and dropped it into the camp-fire. "I reckon that will tell
them what we think of their threat; and that we're too old to be scart
like little school boys," and he sprang on the back of his horse. "Now
for Sacramento City!" and the two boys, with watchful eyes glancing all
around them, resumed their lonely journey toward the new city on the
Sacramento.