THE STRIKE
We awoke next morning to a bright day. The helmeted quail were calling;
the bees were just beginning a sun-warmed hum among the bushes; a
languorous warmth hung in the air, and a Sunday stillness. It was as
though we awakened to a new world, untrodden by men; which was, indeed,
a good deal the case.
While we ate breakfast we discussed our plans. The first necessity, of
course, was to find out about gold. To that end we agreed to separate
for the day, prospecting far and wide. Bagsby kept camp, and an eye on
the horses. He displayed little interest in the gold proposition; but
insisted strongly that we should carry both our rifles and revolvers.
It would be difficult to describe the thrill of anticipation with which
I set off up the valley. The place was so new, so untouched, so
absolutely unknown. The high ridges on either side frowned down
austerely on the little meadows that smiled back quite unabashed. As I
crossed the brown dry meadow toward the river a covey of quail whirred
away before me, lit, and paced off at a great rate. Two big grouse
roared from a thicket.
The river was a beautiful, clear stream, with green wavery water
whirling darkly in pools, or breaking white among the stones. As my
shadow fell upon it, I caught a glimpse of a big trout scurrying into
the darkness beneath a boulder. Picking my way among the loose stones I
selected a likely place on the bar and struck home my pick.
I have since repeated the sensations of that day--on a smaller scale of
course--in whipping untried trout waters; same early excitement and
enthusiasm, same eager sustained persistence in face of failure, same
incredulous slowing down, same ultimate discouragement, disbelief and
disgust. All that day I shovelled and panned. The early morning
freshness soon dissipated. Between the high mountain walls the heat
reflected. All the quail stood beneath the shade of bushes, their beaks
half open as though panting. The birds that had sung so sweetly in the
early morning had somewhere sought repose. I could occasionally catch
glimpses of our horses dozing under trees. Even the chirping insects
were still. As far as I could make out I was the only living thing
foolish enough to stay abroad and awake in that suffocating heat. The
sweat dripped from me in streams; my eyes ached from the glare of the
sun on the rocks and the bleached grasses. Toward the close of the
afternoon I confessed sneakingly to myself that I was just a little glad
I had found no gold and that I hoped the others had been equally
unfortunate. The thought of working day after day in that furnace heat
was too much for me.
My hopes were fulfilled. All came in that night tired, hot, dirty, and
discouraged. Not one of the eight of us had raised a sign of colour.
"Well," said Bagsby philosophically, "that's all right. We've just got
to go higher. To-morrow we'll move upstream."
Accordingly next day we turned at right angles to our former route and
followed up the bed of the canon ten or twelve miles toward the distant
main ranges. It was, in general, rather hard scrabbling for the horses,
though we footmen did well enough. Sometimes we crossed wide flats,
resembling the one we had just left; again, where the canon narrowed, we
had actually to stumble in the rocks of the stream bed. Twice we forded,
and twice we had to make great climbs up and down again in order to get
by points that came boldly down to the river. It was curious to see the
nature of the country change. The pines on the mountains to our right
and left seemed to push down nearer to our level; the grass turned
green; the stream narrowed and became swifter; the sky seemed to turn
bluer; and from the ranges breathed a cool, refreshing wind.
About four o'clock we camped. The flat was green; little clumps of cedar
pushed out across it; the oaks had given place to cottonwoods; we had
now to make acquaintance with new birds. But what particularly
interested us was the fact that at this point the high canon walls at
either side broke into rounder hills that opened out widely, and that
from among them descended many ravines, barrancas, and dry washes.
The following morning we went prospecting again. My instructions were
for the dry washes in the sides of the hills. Accordingly I scrambled up
among the boulders in the nearest V-shaped ravine. I had hardly to look
at all. Behind a large boulder lay a little cuplike depression of stones
in which evidently had stood a recently evaporated pool of water, and
which, in consequence, was free from the usual dusty rubble. In the
interstices between the stones my eye caught a dull glitter. I fell on
my knees, dug about with the point of my bowie knife, and so unearthed
small nuggets aggregating probably a half ounce in weight.
Although mightily tempted to stay for more, I minded our agreement to
report promptly the first discovery, and started back to camp. Why I did
not come a header in that fearful, boulder-strewn wash I cannot tell
you. Certainly I took no care of my going, but leaped recklessly from
rock to rock like a goat. When I reached the flat, I ran, whooping like
an Indian. From the river I could see Johnny and Buck Barry running,
too, and had sense enough to laugh as it occurred to me they must think
us attacked by Indians. Far down the stream I could just make out
figures I knew to be Yank and McNally. They too seemed to be coming to
camp, though I could not imagine that my shouts had carried so far.
I burst in on Bagsby, who was smoking his pipe and leisurely washing the
breakfast dishes, with a whoop, lifted him bodily by the shoulders,
whirled him around in a clumsy dance. He aimed a swipe at me with the
wet dish cloth that caught me across the eyes.
"You tarnation young grizzly b'ar!" said he.
I wiped the water from my eyes. Johnny and Buck Barry ran up. Somehow
they did not seem to be anticipating an Indian attack after all. Johnny
ran up to thump me on the back.
"Isn't it _great_!" he cried. "Right off the reel! First pop!
Bagsby, old sport, you're a wonder!" He started for Bagsby, who promptly
rushed for his long rifle.
"I'm going to kill the first lunatic I see," he announced.
Johnny laughed excitedly, and turned back to thump me again.
"How did you guess what it was?" I asked.
"Didn't. Just blundered on it."
"What!" I yelled. "Have you struck it, too?"
"First shovel," said Johnny. "But you don't mean----"
I thrust my three nuggets under his eyes.
"Say," broke in Buck Barry, "if you fellows know where the whiskey is,
hide it, and hide it quick. If I see it, I'll get drunk!"
Yank and McNally at this moment strolled from around the bushes. We all
burst out on them.
"See your fool nuggets and 'colour,' and raise you this," drawled Yank,
and he hauled from his pocket the very largest chunk of virgin gold it
has ever been my good fortune to behold. It was irregular in shape,
pitted and scored, shaped a good deal like an egg, and nearly its size.
One pound and a tiny fraction that great nugget balanced--when we got
around to weighing it. And then to crown the glorious day which the gods
were brimming for us, came Don Gaspar and Vasquez, trailed by that long
and saturnine individual, Missouri Jones. The Spaniards were outwardly
calm, but their eyes snapped. As soon as they saw us they waved their
hats.
"Ah! also you have found the gold!" cried Don Gaspar, sensing
immediately the significance of our presence. "We, too. It is of good
colour; there above by the bend." His eye widened as he saw what Yank
held. "_Madre de dios!_" he murmured.
McNally, who had said and done nothing, suddenly uttered a resounding
whoop and stood on his hands. Missouri Jones, taking aim, spat carefully
into the centre of the fire, missing the dishpan by a calculated and
accurate inch.
"The country is just _lousy_ with gold," he pronounced.
Then we blew up. We hugged each other, we pounded each other's backs, we
emulated McNally's wild Irish whoops, finally we joined hands and danced
around and around the remains of the fire, kicking up our heels
absurdly. Bagsby, a leathery grin on his face, stood off one side. He
still held his long-barrelled rifle, which he presented at whoever
neared him.
"I tell you, look out!" he kept saying over and over. "I'm shootin'
lunatics to-day; and apparently there's plenty game to choose from."