IN A MINING CAMP.
"More like a tunnel with a porch to it, I should say," said John, as
they approached the "dug-out."
Indeed, the Worths' new home was an unprepossessing abode even after the
familiar furniture was in position, the bunks made ready for use, and a
fire built in the fireplace.
As its name showed, it was merely a hole or tunnel in the slope of the
hill, with a small log house built out from it. But though it was not
luxurious, it was warm in winter and cool in summer, the earth
protecting it from extremes of both heat and cold. The bare ground
packed hard served for a floor, and the fireplace was set far back in
the underground portion of the room, its smoke outlet being a chimney of
sod projecting through the roof.
Into this new and strange dwelling the household goods were carried, a
fire was built, and in a short while the place began to assume the
appearance of a home. While this was being done, the men looked up their
own habitations, and found that other dug-outs, not so large or well
finished, but fairly comfortable, were all ready for occupancy. The mine
had been opened already, and the workmen had previously constructed
these huts, half caves, half houses, for themselves and for the "boss's"
family.
It was all a new experience for the boys, and they investigated
everything with great interest. The idea of living in a hole in the
ground struck them for quite a while as very funny, and they made jokes
without end about it to each other.
The wagons had been placed in the wide creek "bottom"--the space cut out
of the bank by the current, which had since retreated to its present
narrower channel. This "bottom," for years and years the stream's bed,
was well supplied with rich alluvial soil, and was in consequence
luxuriantly covered with fresh grass and vegetation of all kinds.
"I tell you, Jack," called Ben, when the boys scrambled down the steep
path to the creek, "this is something like. Why, I can see bottom--and I
declare, if I didn't see a fish sneak out of that rooty place there."
He hopped on one foot and then on the other in his excitement, and
then, somehow--neither he nor John could ever explain it--he suddenly
found himself splashing in the clear stream. John caught hold of his
heels and dragged him out face down. His head had scraped the soft
bottom and his nose had made a beautiful furrow in the mud.
"What were you trying to do?" inquired John, as soon as he could get his
breath. "Catch the fish in your mouth?"
When Ben turned, spitting mud and digging it out of his nostrils, John
almost exploded with laughter. "Maybe you think it's funny," spurted the
younger boy, "but wait till you come to make a mud scow of yourself;
then you won't laugh quite so much."
John struggled to suppress his mirth, and after a while succeeded--as
long as his brother's mud-be-plastered visage was not in sight.
[Illustration: Instantaneous sketches of the positions in slipping and
diving.]
Face washed and good humor restored, the boys wandered further down the
stream on a trip of discovery. New delights opened at every turn. A mile
or so below the camp a beaver dam was found, and as they drew near, one
of those clever, industrious little beasts shot down the slide they had
constructed, with a _kerflop_ into the pool. Here was sport indeed. The
boys wondered how many of the curious animals the brown, mud-plastered,
dome-shaped houses contained. The doors to these houses were under
water, and only the second story was above its level.
"I tell you what," said John, "we'll have to catch some of those
beggars. Their skins are worth money." And so they vowed to remember the
spot and capture some of the inhabitants of this semi-submarine village.
A little further along they came to a clearly marked path, the edge of
which (the centre was beaten hard) was indented with small hoof prints
of deer and antelope. They saw, too, the cushioned print of the great
prairie wolf. Evidently this was the haunt of game of all kinds.
On the way back the boys had little leisure to examine the paradise they
had discovered, for the sun was sinking fast and they had wandered
further than they realized. An inviting pool was noted, however, that
would serve for a swimming hole, and Ben unhesitatingly dubbed this
"plumb bully." John prevented him from plunging into it right away only
by main force and the reference to his ducking, but he could not keep
him from taking off his moccasins and wading in whenever an opportunity
occurred.
As they neared the camp the last rays of the sun glinted down on them.
The preparations for the evening meal were in full swing: the clatter
of tin dishes mingled with the clatter of tongues, and the smoke pouring
from the sod chimneys bore a most savory odor that made the boys realize
they were hungry.
"I wish we had a rifle," John was saying. "We could have got one of
those ducks we saw down the creek for supper."
"Well, I'm going to have one, and a repeater, too," returned Ben. "I'll
have one if I----"
"Look out!" yelled his brother, interrupting him. At the same moment he
jumped to his side and pulled him violently back. Ben almost fell, but
his brother held him up and dragged him still further.
"Look!" he said, breathless with excitement.
Ben's eyes followed the direction of his pointing finger. There in the
trail on which they had been walking, on the exact spot where he had
been about to plant his bare foot, lay a big diamond-backed rattler,
asleep in the last rays of the setting sun.
"Phew! that was a close call," exclaimed John. "You want to keep a sharp
lookout when you go barefoot. I can't watch out for you all the time."
The younger boy, pretty badly scared, put on his moccasins without delay
and kept his eyes on the trail after that. The rest of the way was
covered in almost absolute silence, for the escape had been a narrow
one, and both were sobered by it.
The plain, wholesome supper over, the boys were glad enough to turn in,
and though the bunks were anything but soft and the surroundings
unfamiliar, the exertions of the day before and the hardships of the
night preceding it put them to sleep in short order.
It was not long before the whole camp was wrapped in slumber. The stock
had been allowed to run free, it being well known that they would not
stray far from the good feed that the creek bottom afforded. All was
silent without and only the heavy breathing of the sleepers disturbed
the quiet within. "Spuds," the dog, from time to time growled and barked
inwardly as he dreamed of a fierce chase after a gopher or jack rabbit.
At last even he subsided.
This absolute quiet was presently disturbed by a howl,--long, wailing,
and dreadful,--that sounded through the low roof as if the thing that
caused it must be in the room itself. Ben jumped up so suddenly that he
struck his head on his brother's bunk above him.
"What's that?" he cried, shaking with fear at a sound he could not
explain. John, his head stuck out of the berth above, was frightened
himself, and could not explain the noise.
Again the fearful wail came, this time not so distinct, but quite as
awe-inspiring. The boys drew a long breath of relief when their father
got up, took the rifle from the two pegs that supported it, and went to
the door. His evident calmness reassured them. As he reached the door
and fumbled with the latch, John and Ben heard a soft but rapid patter
of feet and then his muttered exclamation:
"Plague take those pesky wolves, howling at a man's door in the dead of
night."
So the boys made acquaintance with the great, gray prairie wolf at close
quarters the first night of their stay afar from civilization.
In a few days the men were in full swing at the work for which they had
come to this point. The boys were too young to take part in the mining
operations, but even they had their chores to perform at certain times
of the day, after which they were at liberty to do much as they pleased,
within certain well-known limits. Their first duty on being wakened
between four and five was to round up the stock and drive it in. This
was not such easy work as it sounds. The journey in search of the
animals was long, and was made on an empty stomach in the cold, raw
morning air. Even when they were found, it was difficult to get them
moving towards the camp. The animals seemed at times to be endowed with
diabolical perversity, and would resist all efforts to start them
running in the right direction. The mules and horses once corraled, the
boys had an appetite for breakfast that a dyspeptic would give a fortune
to acquire. After that hearty meal the brothers supplied the camp with
wood and water and did what odd jobs were required about the home. This
completed their work for the time.
After these duties were performed one morning, John and Ben bethought
them of the beaver village, and their spirits rose in anticipation of
the sport. A full trapper's outfit had been brought to the camp. They
got this out and made up a pack containing several steel traps (having
strong jaws armed with sharp teeth and set off by pressure of the
animal's foot on the trigger plate), an axe, some fishing line and
tackle in case a good pool was encountered, the always present revolvers
and ammunition, and a small store of food.
Though it was their first experience in trapping beaver, the boys were
well versed in the theory of the business; they had never let an
opportunity go by to learn all they could about such sport. So they
started with a fair knowledge at least of the habits and ways of the
beaver whom they were to outwit. Their journey down to the dam led them
along the creek, and they noted several inviting pools where bullheads
and trout were likely to lurk, planning to come back and try to catch a
string after they had set their traps.
Reaching the dam, they set to work. John being the elder, at once took
command of the expedition. "You chop down some brush," he ordered,
"while I go over and punch a few holes in the dam. These little beggars
know a thing or two and won't run into an uncovered trap."
"What do you want to cut down brush for?" questioned Ben, as he
shouldered the axe and prepared to obey.
"Why, you see, when I break the dam the water will rush out and show up
the entrance to the houses; then after we go away the beaver will get to
work to build it up again, and will go for the brush you have chopped
down and get caught in the traps we will set in it. See?"
Ben's eyes danced at the prospect, and he raced off to do his part.
The boys were soon out of sight of each other, and John busied himself
on the top of the dam with a strong stick, poking holes ruthlessly
through it. He found it firmer than he had expected, and it took all
his strength and skill to tear it open. He pushed his stick in
vertically, in order to get a good purchase, and, encountering an
unexpected obstacle, put his whole weight into the thrust. All of a
sudden the obstruction gave away, the stick sank down till his hands
struck the ground, he lost his balance and fell headlong into the deep
part of the stream.
The water was well over his head, and after a few minutes' struggling,
he began to realize that he was in a nasty situation. The dam was
composed mostly of slippery mud, which gave him no hold, and burdened by
his soaked clothing, he could not swim to the bank. The water was icy
cold, and he felt almost numb at once. He called to Ben, but could not
make him hear. Then he sank beneath the surface.
Again he went down, but he kept his presence of mind and struggled with
might and main to gain a foothold on the slimy slope. In spite of his
efforts to keep on top, he sank a third time, but this time barely below
the level of his eyes. His work on the dam had accomplished its purpose
and the water was rushing out through a leak, so that the depth was
decreasing every minute. He realized that if he could keep up a little
longer he would be all right.
Again he sank, too tired to do more, but this time was able to keep his
mouth above water by standing on tiptoe and stretching his neck to its
fullest extent.
Before long the water had receded so much that he could wade ashore,
though at times his feet slipped into holes that let him down until he
was entirely under water. Reaching the bank, he dragged himself up and
lay down flat, for the time quite exhausted.
He was more breathless than hurt, however, and in a short time was able
to get up and crawl over to a sunny spot.
Ben came up presently and was inclined to joke with his brother on his
mishap; but after John had told his story he took it more seriously.
The boys noted with satisfaction that the water was now so low that the
submerged entrances to the beaver houses were visible. They therefore
hastened to place their traps in the brush that Ben had cut. They then
moved up the creek to the fishing hole they had noted, to await
developments and at the same time try their luck at fishing. Ben took
the line while John stripped off his water-soaked clothes, hung them up
to dry, and then lay down in a warm sunny spot. It was late in the fall,
and the wind proved too searching for comfort in this condition, so a
fire was built, by which he dried and warmed himself.
The fish were hungry and bit early and often, with the result that the
pile of bullheads and trout on the bank was soon a goodly sight to
behold. A few of them John cleaned and hung over the fire with a forked
stick. The meal which followed was enjoyed to the full, and by the time
it was finished John's wet clothes were fairly dry. Ben was for looking
after the traps right away, but his brother's more experienced counsel
prevailed, and they agreed to visit them at the earliest opportunity the
following morning.
The first minute after the next morning's work was finished they hurried
to the scene of John's accident. After considerable searching (for they
had neglected to chain the traps fast to a log) they found one. In it
was a beaver's foot, well provided with claws for digging, and gnawed
off clean above the joint. The brave little beast had cut off his own
leg to save his life.
[Illustration: Beaver Chip.]
"Well, I'm jiggered," said Ben. "If that don't beat all. Don't you wish
you had come back when I wanted you to?"
"No; the beaver didn't show up till after dark, probably. Besides, there
are three other traps, and there must be something in 'em or they would
be where we left 'em."
They searched and searched and called each other names because of their
carelessness in not making the traps fast. Finally they bethought them
of the possibility of the little animals' dragging the cruel steel jaws
with them to their houses, which, instinct would teach them, were their
only safe refuges.
Sure enough, there were two of them dead, drowned at their own door; the
third was alive and full of energy. Timid usually, the beaver when
caught or brought to bay will fight courageously. Ben stooped to drag
the trap and its captive out, but drew back so suddenly that his head
struck John, who was also leaning over, a scientific blow on the nose.
That maltreated and indignant organ began to bleed freely, and it did
not console John to any great degree to learn that the little beast had
turned on Ben and that he had come within an ace of having a finger
bitten off by its long yellow teeth. He was so alarmed at this savage
pugnacity that, without paying any attention to the rap he had given
John, he still retreated, keeping his eyes on the hole. This was
needless, however, for the animal was hopelessly entangled. A shot from
John's revolver soon put the little creature out of its misery and
enabled them to drag it out without danger.
They returned to camp, triumphantly bearing three splendid beavers. But
John held his hand over his swelling nose and fast blackening eyes: he
could afford to accept with equanimity all taunting references to his
injured member, such as, "Your nose is out of joint," and "What a black
look you have," for he had turned the tables on Ted, who had laughed at
him, calling out: "Sonny, you think you're going on a beaver hunt, but
you're really going on a wild goose chase."
Many more trips did the two boys make to this and other beaver villages,
and the pile of salted skins grew to quite respectable proportions by
the time the ice began to form on the creek.
With winter came many added pleasures and some extra work and
discomfort. Paths to the mine and to water had to be dug in the early
morning through the snow that had drifted during the night, and this
work was added to the boys' regular tasks. The drawing of water had now
become more difficult, for a hole had to be cut in the ice every time.
Gathering wood, too, was not easy, since it was necessary to burrow for
it through the white blanket of snow.
[Illustration: THE RIFLE RESTED CLOSELY AGAINST HIS CHEEK. (_Page 99._)]
[Illustration: BEN WENT OVER TO WHERE THE GAME LAY. (_Page 100._)]
One of the men of the camp was a Swede called "Yumping Yim," because of
his racial inability to pronounce the letter "J." He showed the boys how
to make snowshoes or skees, long strips of wood curved up at the front,
the bottom slightly concave to give a purchase on the crust and prevent
them from slipping sideways, the top convex and rising slightly from toe
and heel to the centre where the foot rested. The boys soon became
proficient in the use of these and sometimes travelled considerable
distances on them.
Exhilarating trips they were, over the crusted snow, when swift,
breathless slides were taken down the hills, and skimming jumps from one
level to another. It was on one of these trips that John and Ben saw for
the first time a herd of buffalo, their great, brown, closely-packed
bodies looking like an undulating sea of fresh earth against the
whiteness of the snow. With them were large numbers of antelope, these
weaker animals profiting by the ability of the powerful buffalo to break
into the drifts and uncover the scanty herbage.
The boys skimmed back to camp, and soon all the men formed themselves
into a hunting party. Luck was with them. The whole party crept softly
up, using every bit of cover that could be found. Then there was a
whispered consultation, rifles were levelled, Mr. Worth kicked a lump of
snow as a signal, and five guns barked out together. John and Ben dashed
forward in wild excitement to find three antelopes lying dead. Without
stopping, the hunters pressed on after the flying animals, and by
nightfall a row of antelope hung high up against the log portion of the
dug-out. Since the boys had no rifles of their own and the family
Winchester was in use, they had to be content with long shots with
revolvers.
During the excitement following one of the volleys, Ben, who had
lingered behind, saw what he thought was a wounded animal. He quickly
raised his pistol and fired. As he did so, the figure rose and stood
upright. It was Charley Green! His winter clothing, like that of the
boys, was made of deerskin, his cap of the pelt of the musk-rat--even
his hands and feet were covered with deerskin soled with buffalo hide.
The deception had been complete, all too complete, Charley thought, when
he heard what a narrow escape he had had. Ben shivered when he realized
what might have happened, and registered a mental vow to let any future
deer get away rather than run the risk of its being deer only in hide
and man beneath.
The boys had learned to cut out and make their own winter deer-hide
clothing, caps, shirts, mittens, and "packs," or boots, soled with
buffalo hide, hair side in; so they always had plenty to do when
indoors. Most of the days were spent on their skees. They learned many
new things and many ways of getting along under their new conditions.
For instance, a snow house had been dug in a big drift which extended
out over the ice-covered creek, and a fire was built inside which
speedily melted a hole through to the water. It was so much warmer under
the blanket of snow that this did not freeze over. Through it the boys
drew the supply of water and caught many a fine string of fish.
The long winter evenings were spent around the big fireplace, where the
men made or patched clothes, told stories, played cards, and smoked. The
camp was cut off from the world by the miles and miles of deep white
snow which overspread the land in every direction. There was no danger
from Indians, for even they could not move under difficulties so
insurmountable. Wolves nightly came down from the hills and left their
footprints on the snow about the house, and especially under the row of
frozen deer which swung from a high support--the winter supply of meat
killed after freezing weather set in. Both night and day the coyotes
howled and answered each other from the high points round about, with
their wuh, wuh, wuh-aou-u-u-u-u-wuh-wuh. On moonlight nights the scene
from the front door was entrancing. The wide, white valley stretched up
and down as far as the eye could see, and the reaching white ridges of
snow and utter silence suggested illimitable distance. When the wind
blew, the fine snow slid along the encrusted surface, making a noise
like hissing water on a pebbly beach, while the finer particles, rising
in the air, created lunar rainbows of surpassing beauty. Here indeed was
loneliness, loveliness, and solemn immensity.
[Illustration: Snap shots.]