THE CAMP ON THE PORCUPINE
We should all have liked to start right in digging, but Bagsby
strenuously opposed this.
"You-all have a rich diggings yere," said he; "and you want to stay a
while and git the most there is out of them. And if you're going to do
that, you've got to get a good ready. You've got make a decent camp, and
a stockade for the hosses at night; and if you want yore grub to last
you more than a month there's got to be some reg'lar hunting and fishing
done."
"That'll take a week!" cried Johnny impatiently.
"Or more," agreed Bagsby with entire complacence. "You can bull at it
and go to t'aring up the scenery if you want to; but you won't last
long."
Unpalatable as this advice seemed, with all the loose gold lying about,
we ended by adopting it. Indeed, we added slightly to our self-imposed
tasks by determining on the construction of cradles. Yank had figured
out a scheme having to do with hollowed logs and canvas with cleats that
would obviate the need of lumber. We deputed Johnny to help him. Bagsby
and Vasquez were to hunt and fish for the general benefit, while the
rest of us put up a stockade, or corral, and erected a cabin.
I must confess the labour was pleasant. We had plenty of axes, and four
of us were skilled in their use. Personally I like nothing better than
the exercise of swinging a keen blade, the feeling of skillful accuracy
and of nicely adjusted effort. We felled dozens, hundreds, of tall young
pines eight inches to a foot in diameter, and planted them upright in a
trench to form a stockade. Then we ran up a rough sort of cabin of two
rooms. Yank, somewhat hampered by Johnny, finished his cradles, and
turned in to help us. Bagsby and Vasquez brought in several deer and an
elk, and trapped many quail and hares. We fared royally, worked
healthfully in the shade of our trees, and enjoyed huge smokes and
powwows around our fire of an evening. Every night we drove the horses
within the enclosure; and slept heavily.
Always in the background of consciousness lay the gold, the incredibly
abundant gold. It coloured our dreams, it gilded our labour. As we drew
to the end of our construction work, I really believe we experienced a
slight, a very slight, feeling of regret that this fine flavour of
anticipation was so nearly at an end. However, I noticed that though we
completed the house at three of the afternoon, we none of us showed any
disposition to wait for the morrow. We promptly lugged one of Yank's log
cradles to the border of the stream and put in two hours washing.
The results were most encouraging, for we gained in that short time
nearly two ounces of flake gold.
That evening we reviewed our situation carefully. The older heads of the
party--Yank, Bagsby, Don Gaspar, and Missouri Jones--overruled our young
desire to jump into things headlong.
"If this camp is going to get on right," said Yank, "we got to make some
provision for working right. Somebody's got to be in camp all the time,
that's sure--to cook some decent meals, do the odd chores, and keep an
eye on the stock." Bagsby nodded emphatically at this. "And somebody's
got to rustle game and fish. Yere's nine husky men to eat. If we leave
one man in camp and two to hunt, we have six left for gold washing.
That's three to a cradle, and that's just right."
We came to that, too; and so settled into our routine. Bagsby was the
only permanent office-holder among us. He was unanimously elected the
official hunter. The rest of us agreed to take turn about at the other
jobs. It was further agreed to increase our chances by utilizing the
cradles at two totally different kinds of diggings. One we located on
the bar to wash out the shingle. The other we carried to a point
opposite the dry ravine in which I had found my three little nuggets.
Don Gaspar had worked like a nailer at the construction although he was
utterly unskilled. Now at the end of the week he was worn out, although
he stoutly maintained he was as good as ever. This high-bred, energetic
gentleman we had all come to admire, both for his unfailing courtesy and
his uncomplaining acceptance of hardships to which evidently he had
never been accustomed. Exactly why he underwent the terrible exertions
incidental to gold finding I have never quite fathomed. I do not believe
he needed money; and I never saw one of his race fond of hard physical
work. Indeed, he was the only member of his class I ever met who would
work. The truth of the matter probably lies somewhere between an
outcropping of the old adventurous _conquistadore_ spirit and the
fascination of the golden metal itself, quite apart from its
dollars-and-cents value. Unanimously we voted in Don Gaspar as camp
keeper for the first week. We wanted to give him a rest; but I do not
think we pleased him. However, he bowed to our decision with his usual
gracious courtesy. As hunting companion for Bagsby we appointed Missouri
Jones, with the understanding that every two days that office was to
have a new incumbent. Johnny, McNally, and I took charge of the dry
wash, and the rest of the party tackled the bar. Of course we
all--except Bagsby--were to share equally.
Unless the wash should prove very productive we would have the worst end
of it, for we had to carry the pay dirt down to the stream's edge. For
the purpose we used the pack-sacks--or _alforjas_, as the Spaniards
call them. Each held about sixty or seventy pounds of dirt. We found
this a sweaty and stumbly task--to stagger over the water-smoothed
boulders of the wash, out across the shingle to the edge of the stream.
There one of us dumped his burden into the cradle; and we proceeded to
wash it out. We got the "colour" at once in the residuary black sand.
All morning we laboured manfully, and discovered a brand new set of
muscles. By comparison our former toil of mere digging and washing
seemed light and pleasurable exercise.
"If this stuff don't run pretty high," grunted McNally, wiping the sweat
from his eyes, "it's me voting for the bar. We can't stand all day of
this."
He heaved the contents of his pack-sack into the cradle, and shook it
disgustedly. Suddenly his jaw dropped and his eye widened with so
poignant an expression that we both begged him, in alarm, to tell us
what was the matter.
"Now, will you look at that!" he cried.
We followed the direction of his gaze, but saw only the meadow, and the
horses feeding in it, and the thin smoke beyond, where Don Gaspar was
bending his proud Castilian spirit to attend to fried steak and
flapjacks.
"Look at those horses!" cried McNally with growing indignation.
"What's the matter with them?" cried Johnny and I in a breath.
"Matter with them! Nothing!" cried McNally with comical disgust. "The
matter's with us." He rapped his knuckles on his head. "Solid, all the
way through!" said he. "Why, save from nat'ral born human imbelicity,
should horses be living like gentlemen while gentlemen are working like
horses!"
We took the hint. That afternoon we saddled the pack-horses and led
them, laden with the dirt, back and forth between the ravine and the
cradle.
All of us worked until rather later in the day than usual.... The
hunters, too, did not return until dark. We weighed the results of our
labour with eager interest. From our cradle we had taken eleven ounces,
while those working the bar had gained just over nine. That was a good
day's work, and we were much elated.
"And most any time," exulted Johnny, "we'll run into a big pocket with
thousands."