looked in. The first thing that met his astonished gaze was the
identical nugget which he had contributed the evening before to the sick
miner at Redman's Gap. There was a name inside the bag. Holding it
near the candle, he read--"Buckley!"
"They must have been robbed!" he muttered to himself; then, rising, said
to O'Rook, "I've taken a fancy to go up to the Gap to see the Buckleys.
Don't mistake me for a thief when I return."
"No mistake at all if I did," returned O'Rook, "for you're stealin' a
march on us all just now, an' isn't it robbin' yourself of your night's
rest you are? ah! then, a wilful man must have his way; good luck go
with ye."
Before the sentence and the yawn that followed it were finished, Jack
was on his way to the Gap. He found the elder Buckley seated on a log
by his brother's couch, with his face buried in his hands. A glance
showed him that the sick man was dying. Jacob looked up quickly. His
face was haggard from the combined effects of dissipation, grief, and
watching. He seemed rather annoyed than pleased by Jack's visit.
"I'm grieved to see Daniel so ill," said Jack in a low voice, which,
however, roused the attention of the invalid.
"Dying," said Jacob sternly, though in a voice that was scarcely
audible. "What have you got there?" he added, almost fiercely, as he
observed, and at once recognised, the bag in his visitor's hand.
"Your property," answered Jack. "Have you not missed it? I conclude,
of course, that it has been stolen from you, because it was gambled away
by a big rough fellow at Higgins' store this evening."
A peculiar smile flitted for a moment across the rugged face of Jacob
Buckley as he said, "No, he didn't steal it. Not being able to leave my
brother myself, I sent him with it to the store, to try his luck. It
was my last throw, contained all I had, includin' the dust and nuggets
you and your comrades sent me last night."
He said this in a hard, reckless, defiant manner, then looked suddenly
in Jack's eyes, and inquired with an expression of curiosity how he came
by the bag.
"I won it, God forgive me," said Jack, a deep flush of shame
overspreading his face, "and I now come to return what I had no right to
win."
A sound from the dying man attracted their attention at that moment.
"He wants to speak to you," said Jacob, who had stooped down to listen.
Jack bent over the sick man, who said in a low whisper, with occasional
pauses for breath, for his strength was almost gone.
"God bless you! You've saved his life. He said if he lost that gold
that he'd blow out his brains--and he'd have done it--he would; I know
Jacob--he'd have done it. Read to me--the Word--the only true gold."
Jack looked round. Jacob had sat down, and again covered his face with
his hands.
"I have not my Bible with me," said Jack, "but I can repeat passages
from memory."
He began with the words, "They that trust in Him shall never be put to
confusion," when the dying man roused himself, and with a strong effort
whispered, "O, sir, I _do_ trust in Him! Will you try to save my
brother from gambling and drink. Speak!--promise!"
"I will!" whispered Jack in his ear.
The man's energy left him at once, and he fell back on the pillow, from
which he had partially risen, with a deep, prolonged sigh. Jacob heard
it. Springing up, he fell on his knees by the bedside and seized his
brother's hand.
"O Dan! dear Dan," he exclaimed, passionately, "don't give way like
that. You'll get well soon, an we'll cut this infernal place
altogether; we'll go home and work with the old folk. Dan, dear Dan!
speak to me--"
He stopped abruptly, and rose with a stony stare of hopelessness, for
Dan's spirit had returned to God who gave it.
Without a word Jacob set to work to lay out the body, and Jack quietly
assisted him. Having finished, the former put the recovered bag of gold
in his pocket, stuck a revolver in his belt, and took up the door key of
the hut.
"Come, Jacob," said Jack, purposely taking no notice of these actions,
"you'll go home and spend the night with me. Dear Dan wants no tending
now. We will return together, and see to his remains to-morrow. Come."
Buckley looked undecided.
"You haven't your flask, have you?" he asked eagerly.
Jack felt in his pockets, and with something like joy found that his
flask was not there. "No," said he, "I haven't got it. But come,
Jacob, you want rest. I'll give you something better than spirits to
drink when we reach the tent. Come."
The man submitted. They went out and, locking the door, walked quickly
and silently away.
Many and anxious were the thoughts that chased each other through the
busy brain of our hero during that dreary midnight walk. Before it was
ended, he had almost resolved upon a plan of action, which was further
matured while he prepared a can of strong hot coffee for poor Jacob
Buckley.
"This is how the matter stands," he said to Captain Samson next morning,
during a private conversation, while Buckley and the others were at
breakfast in the tent. "I, who am not a teetotaller, and who last night
became a gambler, have pledged myself to do what I can to save Jacob
Buckley from drink and gaming. To attempt that _here_ would be useless.
Well, we are at our lowest ebb just now. To continue working here is
equally useless. I will therefore leave you for a time, take Buckley
and Wilkins with me, and go on a prospecting tour into the mountains.
There it will be impossible to drink or gamble; time may cure Buckley,
and perhaps we may find gold! Of course," he added, with a sad smile,
"if we do, we'll return and let you know."
The captain approved of this plan. Jacob Buckley and Watty Wilkins at
once agreed to go, and immediately after Daniel's burial, the
prospecters set out. The entire party, including Polly, convoyed them
as far as Redman's Gap, where, wishing them good-speed, they parted
company. Then the three adventurers passed through the Gap, and were
soon lost in the wild recesses of the mountain range.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
SUCCESS.
For more than a month did the prospecting party wander among the
Californian mountains in quest of gold, but found none--at least not in
paying quantities.
At first the trip was to each of them full of romance, interest and
hope. Even Buckley began to cheer up after a few days had passed. The
craving for drink began to wear off, and grief for his lost brother--
whom he had truly loved--began to abate. The wild scenery through which
they passed was in itself sufficient to rouse to a high pitch the
enthusiasm of such youths as Philosopher Jack and Watty Wilkins, while
their comrade, though not so impressionable in regard to the sublime and
beautiful, was roused to sympathy by their irresistible ardour. The
necessity of hunting, too, in order to obtain food, added excitement of
a more stirring kind, and an occasional encounter with a grizzly bear
introduced a spice of danger to which none of them objected. Their
various washings of the soil and examination of river beds afforded a
sufficient quantity of gold to foster hope, though not to pay expenses.
Thus they progressed through many a scene of loveliness, where the hand
of God had sown broadcast all the forms and hues of grace and beauty
which render this world attractive; they also passed through many a
savage defile and mountain gorge--dark, gloomy, almost repulsive--which
served to enhance their enjoyment of the beautiful by contrast.
But as the time passed by they became accustomed to the life, and
therefore less appreciative. They failed, also, to find gold in larger
quantities, and as the finding of gold was their highest aim, they were
proportionally disappointed and downcast. Watty, indeed, kept up his
spirits pretty well. He experienced the benefit of the change that had
taken place in his soul that time when he was alone with God in the
little boat upon the sea. He prayed in secret for light, and tried to
believe that "all things work together for good to them that love God;"
but his faith was weak, and the old heart of unbelief was still very
strong.
As for Philosopher Jack, his spirit was still engaged in rebellious
warfare. He growled a good deal at his "luck," and was heartily
seconded by Buckley. In addition to this, Jack's spirit was much
troubled by his promise to Daniel Buckley on his deathbed. He shrank,
with a strength of feeling that surprised himself, from speaking to
Jacob about his infirmity, yet he felt the duty lying strong upon him,
for he knew well that, if nothing was said, the man would certainly go
back to his old habits on returning to the neighbourhood of the store
where drink could be obtained.
"Shall I break the ice at once?" thought Jack. "Perhaps it would be
well to wait till we know each other better."
"Don't," said the voice of his old laconic friend.
But Jack did wait, and the longer he waited the more disinclined to
speak did he become. He held strongly, however, that a right promise
once given should never be broken, and, under a feeling of desperation,
said to himself one day, "Would it not be much better to end this matter
by speaking without further delay?"
"Do," said conscience, approvingly.
And Jack did, then and there, the result being that Jacob Buckley did
not take it well, but told him flatly to mind his own business. Jack
flushed crimson and clenched his fist; then the absurdity of attempting
to knock sobriety into a man struck him, and he laughed as he said--
"Well, Buckley, that is just what I am doing, for it _is_ my business to
remonstrate with a comrade when I see him give way to a habit which will
result in his destruction if not abandoned."
After this Buckley allowed him to talk a little on the subject, but Jack
felt the work to be very distasteful. Eventually he gave it up,
consoling himself with the reflection that at all events he had brought
the man away on an expedition where nothing stronger than cold water and
hot tea was to be had for love or money.
At last the tide turned. On the same day a piece of great good and bad
fortune befell our explorers. It happened thus:--
Watty Wilkins roused himself from a golden dream one morning, threw off
his blanket looked up at the bush which served him and his comrades as a
canopy, and yawned. It was grey dawn. There was that clear sweet light
in the sky which gives sure promise of a fine day. Seeing that his
companions still slept, he drew from his breast a small Testament, read
a few verses, and prayed. This had been his custom ever since his
deliverance by the American ship.
Soon after, Jack moved his bulky frame, rolled round, threw out his
arms, and yawned. The yawn awakened Buckley, who immediately followed
suit--such is the force of example!
"I'll tell you what it is, mates," said the latter, sitting up, "that
twist I gave my leg yesterday troubles me a little. I shall remain in
camp to-day and smoke."
"Very good," said Jack, rising and putting the kettle on the fire with a
view to breakfast. "Watty and I will go up that valley and prospect.
We will expect that you'll eat no more than your share of the provisions
during our absence, and that you'll have supper ready for us when we
return."
The simple breakfast being disposed of and washed down with cans of hot
tea, the two friends shouldered their guns and set off up the gorge or
narrow mountain valley, near the mouth of which they had bivouacked.
There was a belt of wood close to their camp; beyond that a small plain,
after crossing which they entered a dense thicket, and began a toilsome
march up the bed of a little mountain stream. The channel was nearly
dry at the time, but the boulders, which were strewn about everywhere,
showed that it was sometimes a formidable torrent.
"A likely place for gold," said Watty, with a hopeful look and tune.
"We've tried many such likely places," replied Jack, with a look and
tone not quite so hopeful.
For several miles they advanced, washing out a panful of dirt here and
there, and finding a little gold-dust as usual. Mid-day arrived, and
they sat down to a cold dinner, consisting of a few scraps of meat left
from breakfast. Little conversation was indulged in. They were too
hungry for that--perhaps too much depressed by hope deferred.
"I'll try the banks higher up," said Jack, rising.
"And I'll try the bed of the stream lower down, just by way of
opposition," said Watty.
They separated, and the latter soon found himself among the boulders,
where he continued to search--actively at first, but more lazily as time
passed by. Presently he came to a wild spot where the stream was
overhung by bushes. He turned over a small stone. Beneath it was a
hole or "pocket". He stooped quickly, and pulled out a nugget of gold
about the size of a thimble. He stooped again, and, inserting his hand,
pulled at something that would not come. His heart gave a jump and
appeared to get into his throat, where it apparently remained, while the
blood rushed to his forehead. Another pull, and out came a mass of
solid gold, about the size of his own fist! A cheer rose to his lips,
but he checked it. "P'r'aps there's more!" he said. Yes, the greedy
little wretch said that! But there was no more in that pocket.
Quickly turning over several more stones, he found more pockets, with
nuggets of various sizes in each. In a short time his specimen pouch
was pretty well lined with the precious metal.
Meanwhile his friend Jack was equally successful, the chief difference
between them being that the latter washed out the earth on the banks
above, and found his gold in little grains and specks, but in such
quantities that he felt as if his fortune were already made. Towards
evening Watty hallooed and was replied to. As they walked rapidly
towards the pre-arranged rendezvous, each hit on the same idea--that of
deception!
"Well, what luck?" asked Watty with a careless air that ill concealed
the elation of his heart.
"Only a little dust--nothing to speak of--at least not as compared with
what some fellows get," said Jack, whose laughing eye gave the lie
direct to his melancholy tones. "See here, Watty, this is all I've
got."
As he spoke, the hypocrite poured the glittering contents of his pouch
into his tin wash-pan.
"Well, _what_ a lucky fellow you are!" said Watty, with mouth expanded.
"Just look here; this is all that I have got."
He opened his bag and displayed the nuggets, with the big one in the
midst!
Need we say that these youths found it difficult to express their joy
and astonishment? The fact was evident that they had at last discovered
unusually rich ground, and they travelled back to the camp to tell their
lazy comrade the good news.
It was near sunset when they reached the little plain or open space at
the mouth of the gorge. Here Jack turned aside to cut a stick of
peculiar form, which had caught his eye on the way up, and which he
meant to keep as a souvenir of their discovery and the spot. Watty
sauntered slowly across the plain.
He had just reached the wood on the other side, and turned to wait for
his comrade, when he heard two shots in quick succession. There was
nothing unusual in this, but when he heard the Philosopher utter a loud
cry, he started, cocked his gun, and ran a few steps back to meet him.
Next moment Jack burst from the thicket and ran across the plain at a
speed that told of imminent danger. From the same thicket there also
rushed a large grizzly bear, whose speed was greater than that of Jack,
though it did not appear to be so.
All the blood in Watty Wilkins's body seemed to fly back to his heart,
and immediately after it rushed to his brain and toes. Prompt action!
no time to think! Life! death! Watty never afterwards could tell
clearly what he felt or did on that tremendous occasion, but Jack could
tell what he did, for he saw him do it.
Going down on one knee and resting his left arm on the other, in what is
known to volunteers as the Hythe position, the little youth calmly
levelled his double-barrelled gun. It was charged only with small shot,
and he knew that that was useless at long range, therefore he restrained
himself and waited.
Jack and the bear ran straight towards him.
"Up, Watty, up a tree," gasped Jack; "it's no use--shot won't hurt him--
quick!"
As he spoke he darted to the nearest tree, seized a large limb, and
swung himself up among the branches. The bear passed under him, and,
observing the kneeling figure in front, charged at once. When it was
within three feet of him the youth let fly the contents of both barrels
into the grizzly's mouth. So true was his aim that about six inches of
the barrel followed the shot as the bear rushed upon it. This saved
Watty, who was violently hurled aside by the stock of his own gun, while
the bear went head-over-heels, vomiting blood and rage amid smoke and
dust and scattered nuggets of gold!
"O Watty!" cried Jack, leaping down to the rescue with his drawn
hunting-knife.
But before Jack reached him, or the bear had time to recover himself,
Watty was on his active legs, and sprang up a tree like a monkey. Jack
caught a branch of the same tree, and by sheer strength swung himself
up, but on this occasion with so little time to spare, that the bear,
standing on its hind legs, touched his heel lovingly with its protruded
lips, as he drew himself out of reach.
We need scarcely say it was with beating and thankful hearts that the
two friends looked down from their perch of safety on the formidable and
bloody foe who kept pawing at the foot of the tree and looking hungrily
up at them.
"What a mercy that the grizzly can't climb!" panted Watty, who had not
yet recovered breath.
"But he can watch and keep us here all night," said Jack, "and we have
no means of killing him. I fell and lost my gun in escaping, and yours
is doubled up. We're in for a night of it, my boy. Why didn't you do
what I bade you, get up into the tree with your gun when you saw us
coming, and then we could have shot him at our leisure?"
"Why didn't you lend me your own cool head and clear brain," retorted
the other, "and then we might have done something of the sort? But
surely the shot I gave him must tell in the long-run."
"Pooh!" said Jack, "it's not much more to him than an over-dose of
mustard would be to a cat. However, we've nothing for it but to wait.
Perhaps Buckley may have heard our shots."
In this conjecture Jack was right. The gold-miner was enjoying an
unsocial cup of tea at the time, and fortunately heard the distant shots
and shouting. Buckley was a prompt man. Loading his double barrel with
ball as he ran, he suddenly made his appearance on the field, saw at a
glance how matters stood, and, being a good shot, put two balls in the
bear's carcass with deadly effect. Grizzly bears are, however,
remarkably tenacious of life. This one at once turned on his new foe,
who, getting behind a tree, re-loaded as quickly as possible. As the
animal passed he put two more balls in its heart and killed it.
"Splendidly done!" cried Jack, leaping to the ground and shaking Buckley
by the hand, as he thanked him for his timely aid. Almost in the same
breath he told of their unexpected good fortune.
"Now, then," he added, "we'll cut off the claws of this fellow as a
trophy, and then to camp and supper."
"Stop a bit, not so fast," said Wilkins, who had descended the tree and
was sitting on the ground with a most lugubrious countenance; "we must
gather up my nuggets before going. Besides, it strikes me there's
something wrong with my ankle."
This was found to be too true. In scrambling into the tree Watty had
sprained his ankle badly, and in jumping down had made it so much worse
that he could not bear to put even his toe to the ground. He was
compelled, therefore, to accept the services of Jacob Buckley, who
carried him into camp on his back.
Despite his sufferings poor Wilkins rejoiced that night with his
comrades at their good fortune, and it was long before he or they could
cease to talk over future plans and take needful rest. At length
Buckley rolled himself in his blanket, and lay down.
"Poor fellow," said Jack, seeing Watty wince a little, "does it hurt
much?"
"Yes, rather, but I'll be all right to-morrow. Now, Jack, I'm going to
sleep. Do me a favour before turning in. Just make a pile of my
nuggets close to my pillow here, with the big one on the top. There,
thanks."
"What a covetous little wretch you are becoming!" said Jack with a
laugh, as he lay down. "Have a care, Watty, that you don't become a
miser."
Watty made no reply, but in the night, when he thought his comrades were
asleep, he was overheard muttering in a low tone: "Yes, my dear old dad,
you shall have them every one, big 'un as well; at least I'll send you
every rap that they will fetch. Not that you need it. You're rich
enough as it is, but this will show you, perhaps, that my first thoughts
after my first luck were of you."
A long sigh followed the remark. Looking up soon afterwards, Jack saw
that Watty was sound asleep, with the point of his nose reposing on the
big nugget.
The poor lad's idea of a sprain was not quite correct. Instead of being
"all right" next day, he found himself to be hopelessly lame, and was
unable to move from the camp for a couple of weeks. During that period
Jack and Buckley went forth to the new diggings every morning, and
returned at night laden with gold, so that in a short time they had
gathered as much as they could conveniently carry. Then they resolved
to go for their comrades and return with them to continue their labours
at what they named Grizzly Bear Gulch. As Watty was still unable to
walk without great pain, they made a sort of litter of a blanket between
two poles. In this contrivance they carried him, with their gold and
their other belongings, back to the old diggings.
But here, on arrival, they found a wonderfully altered state of affairs.
"Immediately after you left," said Captain Samson, over a cup of tea,
while Polly, who presided, listened with sympathetic delight, "we bought
a new claim or two, without much hope, however, of bettering our
circumstances. One of these claims we bought for you, Jack, with part
of the money you left in our charge, one for Buckley, and another for
Wilkins. Well, these claims all turned out splendidly, and we've been
makin' our fortunes ever since! As you were off prospecting, as much
for our benefit as your own, we agreed that it was the least we could do
to work a little for you, so we gave your claims a rummage day about,
and thus we've made your fortunes too, or part of 'em anyhow. We've bin
sendin' home bills of exchange too, and knowin' your wish to help your
father, Jack, I took upon me to send a small sum to him with your love.
I did right didn't I?"
"Right!" exclaimed Jack, seizing the captain's hand and squeezing it;
"need you ask? I'm only sorry I didn't dig the gold out with my own
hand, and enclose the bill in my own letter. How much did you send?"
"Only 1000 pounds," replied the captain.
"Come, don't joke. I'm anxious to know, because he was very hard up
when I left."
"More shame to you for leaving him, my young Philosopher," returned the
captain, "but I tell you the truth; I sent him 1000 pounds sterling, and
I believe there's as much lyin' here in gold-dust and nuggets that
belongs to you. We've all done equally well, I'm thankful to say, and,
better than that, good fortune seems to have brought us good health.
Even Ben Trench there is able to dig like the rest of us."
"Not exactly," said Ben with a pleasant smile at his old friend Wilkins,
"but I'm very well, thank God, and able to do a little. I wouldn't have
been what I am now but for the care of this dear little nurse."
Polly was quite pleased with the compliment, and made a liberal offer to
supply more tea to any of the company who might want it.
All this, and a great deal more, was corroborated by every one present;
moreover, it was told them that there were many other claims which had
suddenly turned out well, and that the whole aspect of these diggings
had changed for the better.
"And what of Mr Luke?" asked Jack, glancing round the circle.
"Gone," said the captain, "nobody knows where. He became gloomier and
stranger than ever after you went away, and one morning announced his
intention to leave us and return to San Francisco. He left, and has not
been heard of since. Bob Corkey, too, is off. He got restless and
disappointed at our bad luck, said he'd go away prospectin' on his own
hook, and went."
"Good luck go with him! He was altogether too fond of argifying," said
Simon O'Rook.