WHERE GOLD WAS AS DROSS.
It was dusk when the six horsemen, descending the still tortuous path,
reached the bottom of the mountain-guarded valley. They had been
challenged by a small band of Indians when they first entered the narrow
pass between the mountains two hours before. Now again three
dark-skinned sentinels suddenly barred their way with a gruff command
which the white men did not understand. Casimiro responded, giving what
was probably a countersign. The shadows were so dark that the three
guardsmen of the pass did not recognize their chief until he spoke. When
they heard his voice they made obeisance to him, and he conversed with
them for a few moments.
The party moved on presently and came at once upon a scene quite
different from the wild and barren chaos of the mountain-side. It was a
bit of nature’s most peaceful loveliness thrown down in the midst of her
most majestic confusion; it was an emerald in a setting of jet, an oasis
of beauty in a desert of shapeless grandeur. There were nodding flowers,
waving grass, and a grove of stately trees. The twilight softened the
grim shapes of the surrounding heights. Nature’s face had changed
suddenly from frowns to smiles and the transformation was bewildering.
The visitors were puzzled and delighted. They had seen no sign of
verdure from the pass above, when Casimiro pointed out what seemed to be
but a tiny patch of white sand. It was not a wide expanse, this spot of
fertility in a sterile wilderness, but it afforded pasturage for quite a
large herd of horses and among the trees beyond was a village of huts.
A number of natives caught sight of the party and came to meet them.
They received the chiefs, Casimiro especially, with many signs of
respect and pleasure. The white men they regarded with curious interest.
Dismounting at the edge of a small forest, the newcomers were conducted
to the center of the village, where a fire burned in front of a group of
larger huts. Food was prepared and they were soon satisfying an appetite
so vigorous that even in Brent’s case it was not disturbed by any
suspicion of the viands provided. After the meal, Casimiro explained
that the golden sands lay just beyond the forest, a few minutes’ walk
from the village. Little could be gained by a visit that night, for the
darkness in the valley was by that time intense. Great as was the
eagerness of Brent and Fraser to see the treasure which had tempted
them into this far-away wilderness, they wisely restrained their
impatience. They were well content, after the excitement of the
afternoon’s wonders had worn off, to indulge the heavy fatigue which
followed by early retirement to the large hut and beds of skins and
leaves which were assigned to them.
Very early in the morning they were ready to accompany Casimiro.
Somewhat to their surprise, he led them first in a different direction
from that in which he had indicated the deposit of gold lay. They came
in a few minutes to the sandy, shelving bank of the river, whose course
they had watched for many miles on their journey. Casimiro quickly
disrobed and plunged into the sparkling water, inviting his companions
to follow. Brent imagined the baptism might be some religious or
purifying rite which he must perform before being allowed to touch the
Patagonian treasure. Inasmuch as the bath was most tempting in itself,
the young man was nothing loth, and all three were soon swimming about
in the very cool stream. Brent enjoyed himself immensely until he
discovered that they were not alone. Other Indians appeared above and
below them on the bank of the river and in a few moments the whole
tribe, men, women, and children, were in the river enjoying their
morning bath.
Brent did not notice what was going on till it was impossible to escape
from the situation. As soon as he realized the dilemma he shouted in
such horror-stricken accents to his friend that the Scotchman thought a
cramp or a wandering crocodile had seized the young man. He swam rapidly
to his assistance. Brent explained his alarm.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to take rather a long bath, lad,” responded the
Scotchman ruefully, “and the water’s getting cold already. I ought to
have thought of this. The Patagonians always take a plunge, every
mother’s son and daughter of them, every morning.”
“Good gracious, how long will they be about it?”
“Not long, I hope. We might swim over to the opposite bank and stay in
shallow water till they clear out.”
They paddled across stream and found a place where they could sit upon a
sunken rock with the water up to their necks. Presently Casimiro caught
sight of them, swam across, and suggested that they should return with
him, dress, and have breakfast. The two men were at a loss to explain
their embarrassment to the chief. They feared he would not understand
and might misconstrue their motives for not desiring to join the
promiscuous bathing party.
“We want to stay in the water a little longer,” said Brent in rather
shaky accents, while his teeth belied his tongue by beginning to rattle
violently.
“No, no, bad, very bad, too cold stay long,” said Casimiro paddling
about uneasily and plainly puzzled by the behavior of the two white men.
There was an anxious expression upon the two faces, perched side by side
on the rock, while cold little wavelets rippled against their chins.
They were attracting attention from the opposite bank where most of the
natives were already donning their scanty clothing. Some of the bathers
began to leave the bank, and Fraser and Brent were pleased to note that
most of the women were among those going away.
“I think we’d better risk it, lad, and swim back, or they’ll all be
coming over here to see what’s the matter,” said the shivering Fraser
presently. “Besides, we’ll get a cramp if we stay here any longer.”
Casimiro was immensely relieved when his odd guests left their perch and
struck out vigorously for the opposite bank. He followed them with
strong strokes. The two were thankful to see only men about when they
reached shoal water. They didn’t wait to investigate further but made a
dash for their clothes, into which they scrambled and then began running
violently up and down in the early sunshine in order to restore warmth
to their chilled blood. Casimiro shook his head in still greater
mystification.
The exercise and a hearty meal quite neutralized the bad effects of the
morning episode, and before the sun was two hours high, Brent, Fraser,
and a party of natives sought the spot which nature had made her richest
treasure-house. Five or ten minutes’ walk through the trees brought them
to a bare, barren spot, scarcely more than four hundred yards in extent,
apparently a mere waste of sand which had been much thrown and tossed
about.
“The gold lies there,” said Casimiro, indicating the center of the white
field where the surface had been much disturbed.
Brent was surprised and disappointed. He saw nothing but worthless heaps
of sand in a spot whose only interest was the mighty works of nature
which surrounded and shut it in. Fraser’s trained eye sparkled with
anticipation.
“I see it all,” exclaimed the Scotchman looking rapidly about him at the
general topography of the situation. “This used to be the bed of the
river. There were falls over that straight line of rock there at the
boundary of the sand, and all this is the gathered accumulation of ages
in a great hollow or cup just before the water poured over the barrier.
Does the river flow through the gap in the mountain we saw yesterday?”
he asked turning to the Patagonian.
“Yes. We believe in the early days of our fathers it flowed here,”
answered the chief.
“Exactly,” went on the Scotchman. “That convulsion, whenever it took
place, changed the whole course of the river and left this basin full of
gold, brought down bit by bit for centuries from the hills behind us and
many miles away. But what an ideal placer mine! Nothing to do but to
sift the gold from the sand!” And they went toward the primitive
workings.
They found much more extensive excavations than they expected. The
natives had, in fact, very completely tested the extent and value of the
deposit. Casimiro explained that on the borders of the sandy expanse the
depth of earth was only a few inches and practically no gold was mixed
with it. Beneath the sand was a solid, sloping bed of rock, almost
saucer-shaped, as Fraser discovered. The gold lay mostly at the bottom
and in greatest richness within a space of only about one hundred yards
square. The depth of sand to the gold and bed-rock was scarcely ten
feet. None of these facts were at first apparent to the visitors. They
saw no gold. Fraser and Brent picked up handfuls of the coarse sand here
and there, but they found no trace of the precious metal. They went down
into some of the older trenches, but discovered nothing. At length
Casimiro led them to what was evidently a newer working. Some poor,
wooden tools had been dropped by the users just where they had stopped
work.
Fraser sprang into the trench suddenly and got down upon his hands and
knees. He scraped about among the earth with his bare fingers. In a few
moments he rose to his feet, called his friend to the edge of the ditch,
and put into his hand a yellow nugget, so heavy that Brent almost
dropped it. It was the size of a small hen’s egg.
“It’s thicker than plums in a Christmas pudding down here,” the old
miner exclaimed in great excitement. “Come and see.”
Brent, nothing loth and as much excited as his companion, leaped down
and began scratching in the earth at the bottom of the ditch as madly as
the Scotchman had done. Fraser clawed at the loose sand a few feet away.
The lust of gold seized both men like a fever. They tore out the shining
nuggets from their envelope of earth in frenzied haste, cramming them
one after another into their pockets. They shouted to each other in
exclamations of glee and disjointed words over each yellow lump, bigger
than the last. They toiled on almost frantically, still on hands and
knees and with only fingers for tools. They became breathless with their
exertions, but panting they worked on.
At last Brent looked up. He saw Casimiro a few feet above him. The old
chief was standing silent as a statue, with folded arms, watching the
mad outburst of the passion for gold in the two men at his feet. Upon
his face was a melancholy but proud superiority, mingled with something
of pity and of contempt. Brent rose to his feet. His hands fell at his
side and he hung his head. His face, already dripping with sweat,
flushed a deeper crimson under a sudden sense of shame. He stood abashed
and humiliated before this savage, who became in his eyes the
personification of a higher virtue than his own. Then as the revulsion
of feeling grew upon him, the young man plunged his hand into his
pockets and flung back into the trench the yellow treasure he had
gathered. Casimiro stopped him.
“The white man loves gold; let him keep it,” said the old man quietly.
The Scotchman’s attention was attracted by the incident, and he, too,
shamefacedly recovered his self-control. He endeavored to apologize for
his own and Brent’s greedy excitement. Casimiro indicated that no
apology was necessary. The effect of gold upon them, in whose integrity
and virtue he had high confidence, was but another proof of the danger
of allowing such a temptation to remain and attract white men to his
country. Both men felt thoroughly uncomfortable as they clambered out
of the ditch and proceeded in saner fashion to inspect the marvelous
deposit of treasure.
They gathered from Casimiro’s explanation that fully two thirds of the
sand-filled basin had been carefully gone over within the last few
months and all the gold removed down to bed-rock. They found upon
examination that the natives had not merely dug trenches through the
sand. They had begun the work systematically at one side of the deposit
by separating the gold from the sand along a long line. They advanced
regularly and slowly in this line, throwing behind them the sand as fast
as it had been treated. In this way they had shifted and cleaned two
thirds of all the earth in the whole basin. About five hundred men had
been engaged in this task, Casimiro said, and he believed they would be
able to complete it in three or four months more.
They walked all over the deposit, and Fraser examined carefully some
samples of the sand that had been worked.
“They have done it very thoroughly,” he remarked in considerable
surprise. “I don’t discover a trace of free gold in what is left.”
Then in calmer frame of mind he entered again the trench which separated
the barren from the gold-bearing earth and studied the nature of the
deposit more critically. The gold lay almost entirely in the very
lowest stratum, resting upon or within five or six inches of the
bed-rock which had been the bottom of the river. Casimiro said that in
several quite large areas they had found nearly two inches of pure gold,
unmixed with sand, lying upon the smooth rock at the bottom of the
basin. In five minutes a digger had often scooped up all that a bearer
could carry away. So easy and rapid had been the work of taking the gold
from its bed and separating it from the gravel, that no less than thirty
men on the average had been employed daily merely in carrying the metal
from the trenches to the caches, or pits, which had been dug for its
reception near by.
Casimiro led the way finally to these sunken depositories, only a few
hundred feet away upon the bank of the river. Only one mound of earth,
beside what seemed to be a large open grave, was visible. The chief said
that sixteen other pits had been filled and covered over with earth and
_débris_ very carefully so as to leave no trace of their existence. They
walked to the side of the excavation still open and looked in.
It would have shaken the sanity of some men to have gazed into that pit.
Naked treasure was heaped up there enough to ransom a state. Both men
were fascinated. The sun shone upon the virgin gold and dazzled their
eyes with the yellow glare. Brent turned his face away after a moment
and drew his hand across his forehead as though in a maze. Fraser gazed
on in apparent indifference. Presently he seemed to be measuring the pit
and the pile of earth beside it with his eye and remarked musingly:
“About twelve feet by six--I wonder how deep it is?”
The gold filled the pit to within two feet of the surface of the ground.
The Scotchman had no means of judging the quantity or value of the
metal. Its great weight occupies such small space that he was quite
confident that several hundred tons of the precious stuff lay before
him. And worth one hundred and twenty thousand pounds a ton! It wasn’t
worth while estimating such a treasure in pounds sterling or
avoirdupois. Fraser shook his head and looked round at his companions.
They too were silent and distrait.
Just then an Indian bending under a very small but evidently very heavy
load came up to them. He stopped at the edge of the pit, lifted down a
bag from his shoulder, opened it, and poured carelessly upon the
accumulation beneath a shower of fresh gold. Then he shook the bag and
walked slowly away. Both Fraser and Brent drew long breaths as they
watched him. When the man had gone, Casimiro turned to his silent
companions, waved his hand toward the treasure before them, and
remarked with a grim smile:
“It is yours. When will you take it away?”
“We must think, Casimiro,” said Fraser presently. “We are overcome by
the sight of such treasure. It is beyond anything we have dreamed of.”
It was some time before the effect of the demonstration of the truth of
Casimiro’s promises enabled the two white men to think calmly on the
situation and on the problem before them. They told each other that they
would be perfectly content if they might take away with them a small
fraction of that last great pitful of gold and leave all the rest. But
this they could not do. They were under pledge to despoil these
Patagonians of all their riches or go away empty-handed. If they
succeeded in the apparently feasible task of carrying away this fabulous
treasure, they were to be made rich far above any of their fellows for
practically nothing in return. It seemed like robbery. They had not
looked at it in that light before, but the sight of the gold itself
aroused their scruples. They went over together two or three times
Casimiro’s statement of the case from the standpoint of his people and
they were unable to find serious moral or economic flaws in it.
After they had discussed the matter, they invited Casimiro to consult
with them. They pressed him to suggest additional services which they
might render in exchange for the stupendous gift he was about to bestow
upon them. The wise old man shook his head.
“The white man’s luxuries would but corrupt and destroy us,” he said.
“It were better that we died by his sword than by his vices. I fear the
effect of even a too liberal supply of food and clothing and arms which
you will send us. It will encourage sloth and soften too much the
wholesome rigor of our simple life. No, no, you shall not kill us with
kindness.”
Brent, who knew something of the crime his own countrymen had committed
in sapping the life and spirit of the North American Indians by a
mistaken liberality in supplying their physical appetites, admired and
indorsed the wisdom of the old chief’s words. Casimiro exacted a pledge
from both men that the danger which he feared should be carefully
guarded against by them in the selection of the annual shipload of goods
which they agreed to send to his people.
For several days Fraser and Brent devoted themselves assiduously to the
problem--how to convey safely and with reasonable speed to the coast the
great mass of treasure which had been spread before them. It was no
trifling task, and the American was inclined to be almost hopeless of
its accomplishment. He felt himself unable to contribute anything to the
solution of it, and he chafed under the ignorance which made him
helpless against a practical difficulty, while his partner was full of
resources.
First, they set about ascertaining as closely as possible the quantity
or weight of the metal which was to be moved. In this matter, Brent, who
was expert at figures, was able to be of assistance. They made
calculations in two or three ways. They estimated by various rude tests
that the load carried by each bearer from the trench in the sand to the
hoarding-pits was about one hundred pounds in weight. Casimiro was able
to inform them that each pit contained about five thousand such loads.
This meant about two hundred and fifty tons of virgin gold in each pit,
or a total of about four thousand tons!
Fraser managed to contrive a serviceable pair of balances, with the aid
of his pocket knife, string, bits of wood, and other material at
command. They tested them by balancing weights in the improvised
scale-pans and then shifting them from one arm to the other. The exact
weight of their rifle cartridges was printed upon the cartridge boxes.
Using several of these in place of standard weights they balanced them
with gold-dust. The Scotchman after some difficulty managed to
construct a cubical receptacle which his pocket rule assured him
measured exactly twelve inches in each of its dimensions. Its capacity
therefore was just one cubic foot. Into this he poured gold from his
scale-pan after balancing it with cartridges and keeping account of the
number of weighings. It was a slow process and it took a long time to
fill his cubic-foot box. He was surprised to find that the weight of a
cubic foot of closely-packed, loose gold, according to his rough test,
was about one thousand pounds avoirdupois. Then they measured the last
pit which had been dug and which Casimiro assured them was the same as
the others in size. They found that the space designed to be occupied by
the gold was about four hundred and thirty-six cubic feet. That quantity
of gold would weigh then about two hundred and forty tons--practically a
confirmation of their first estimate.
After all this work had been done, Brent suddenly called to mind the
school-book information that the weight of a cubic foot of water is
sixty-two and one half pounds and that the specific gravity of gold is
nineteen--simple facts, which, if he had recollected them sooner, would
have saved them more than a day’s labor.
The truth was before them, at all events, that the prodigious treasure
already awaiting removal amounted to about four thousand tons, while if
Casimiro’s estimate of what remained proved correct the final total
would be no less than six thousand tons. The figures were almost
meaningless to their comprehension at first. Brent figured out on a bit
of paper what it meant in money. Gold he knew was worth about three
hundred dollars a pound when pure. Six thousand tons, or twelve million
pounds avoirdupois, at that rate amounted to three billion six hundred
million dollars! He showed the figures to Fraser.
“More than seven hundred million pounds sterling!” the Scotchman
exclaimed. He was silent for some moments, and then he said: “Well, lad,
I wish it was only six tons instead of six thousand. It would be far
more tempting. One means comfort and no worry for each of us. The
other--I’m afraid to think what it may mean for us.”
“It will mean a life of the most galling publicity and notoriety, unless
we can conceal the existence of the bulk of the treasure from the
world’s knowledge,” said Brent earnestly, as the apprehension of the
penalties of great wealth suddenly dawned upon him.
“You are right,” answered Fraser. “We cannot guard the secret too
carefully, and all our plans must bend to that end.” From that hour,
Brent never lost sight of this danger. It furnished the dominant motive
in all his dealings with the gold of the Cordilleras.
After the fourth day following their arrival in the golden valley, the
two strangers and the native chiefs took careful account of the
facilities at their command for transporting the immense weight of
treasure which nature had surrendered to them. Fraser was much pleased
to discover that the material for raft-building was very abundant. The
change in the bed of the river had left a great level area below and in
front of the rocky barrier over which the water had formerly poured. The
new course of the stream after passing through the riven mountain
returned to the old bed at a sharp angle just below this point. At times
of high water this former river-bottom was flooded, and it had become
the depository of great quantities of _débris_ which the receding waters
in their annual or semi-annual freshets had left behind. Fraser noted
that an immense number of well-seasoned logs or tree-trunks were
included in the accumulation.
The supplies from the schooner, including all the tools and other
appliances, arrived by the time the Scotchman was ready to make use of
them. He tried the experiment of raft-building at once. The Indians
proved ready pupils, and the novelty of the work attracted them. The
horses easily dragged the heavy timber by means of log-chains to the
water, and in a single day Fraser constructed a large raft, capable of
floating safely seventy-five tons in any but a most violent stream. He
was astonished to find the wood so buoyant. It was of light grain, but
not porous, and it easily sustained more than twice its own weight in
the water. The Scotchman estimated that the building of a series of
rafts that would carry one hundred tons each might easily be
accomplished.
The problem of transportation appeared, therefore, to find its solution
provided by nature, who in her lavish generosity had supplied even the
means for making the rifling of her treasure-house a pastime. Fraser
explained his plans to Casimiro, loaded his trial raft with stones to
show its carrying capacity, and made it clear that the means were at
hand for conveying safely away even the immense load of wealth that had
appalled him. The chief expressed his admiration and satisfaction in
strong terms. He was fully convinced that his plans regarding the gold
which menaced his people would be successfully executed.
The new year had arrived before all the elements of the situation had
been thoroughly examined and the two white men were able to make
comprehensive plans for the future. Fraser estimated that the work of
taking out the remainder of the gold, building rafts, floating the
treasure to the coast, and there unloading and re-burying it before
putting it on shipboard, would occupy fully six and perhaps eight
months. To carry it away to London or New York would require a vessel of
the largest capacity. In view of their wish to conceal the existence of
the treasure from the world, elaborate precautions must be taken. Not an
ounce of the gold must be allowed to leave the country except under
secure cover, where it could masquerade as ore. Fortunately, the very
vastness of the treasure was the best security against suspicion. Six
tons of gold packed in mysterious boxes might lead its handlers to guess
its identity; but six thousand tons, never. Nothing approaching such a
quantity of the precious metal ever existed under one control and
everybody would scout such an idea as preposterous.
After many long talks they decided upon a general plan of operation.
Fraser would remain and direct the work of transporting the gold to the
coast. Brent would take with him to New York about two million dollars’
worth of the metal. There he would buy or build a suitable private vault
for the storage of the rest of the treasure. In the following summer he
would charter a steamship of the largest size, and provide a partial
cargo of stores for the Indians and a sufficient number of suitable
cases for containing the gold. He would sail south on this vessel,
timing his arrival in the harbor where the schooner now lay as nearly as
possible on the first of September. The work of transshipping the gold
and carrying it to New York would then be carried out as speedily as
possible. This plan was explained to Casimiro and he approved it without
hesitation.
They proceeded at once to act upon it. It was decided to send Brent’s
preliminary fund and as much more as possible down the river upon the
experimental raft that had been constructed. Brent determined to make
the trip himself in the same way. Twenty Indians were assigned the task
of loading the raft with gold. Fraser limited the quantity to about
sixty tons. Three days of hard work were required before the score of
natives had deposited this heavy weight of metal upon the structure. It
occupied very little space, but a good deal of difficulty was
experienced in stopping up the chinks between the logs and providing a
resting-place sufficiently secure so that the gold would not sift
through.
At length the primitive craft was ready for its first and last voyage,
as the bearer of a cargo far more precious than any pretentious
treasure-ship ever carried. Brent finally made ready to depart, with a
great deal of regret. He had found genuine pleasure, as well as many
wonders, in this strange valley. The simple life of the inhabitants,
their contempt for civilized wealth, the character of some of their
leaders, all had a strong charm for him. His own thirst for gold had
slackened. Its prodigal accumulation no longer aroused any emotion in
him. The ambition for great riches had never been as strong in him as it
is in many men, but he was himself surprised at his growing indifference
to wealth. He assured himself that he would become again as other men,
as soon as he should again be among his fellows.
On the eve of the sailing of the raft, Fraser and Brent had a last talk.
The friendship between the two men had grown into a deep and strong
affection on both sides. The parting was a sincere sorrow to each. The
hard-shelled old Scotchman was even a little superstitious about it. The
eight months’ separation did not seem to threaten serious danger to
either of them, but he was vaguely apprehensive.
“Take good care of yourself, lad,” he said earnestly, “and remember, if
anything happens to me, you are to see this thing through alone. I have
Casimiro’ s promise to deliver the gold to you, if I should knock
under.”
Brent reassured the stanch old man with a promise to greet him safe and
sound on the deck of their treasure-ship eight months later. They bade
each other an affectionate farewell just as the raft shoved off into the
current at daybreak next morning, and the last thing Brent saw as the
raft swept around a turn in the stream was the sturdy figure of Fraser
waving him good-by.
Casimiro and three other Indians manned the treasure-raft. The chief
assured Brent that the navigation would not be difficult, for although
the current in places was very swift there were no rocks to encounter.
The young man expected nothing more than a pleasure trip, and he gave
himself up to admiration of the scenery of the marvelous valley as it
disclosed itself from new points of view. There was much that was
wonderful, but the outlook was not as imposing as from the mountain
trail by which they had entered the strange wilderness. A part of the
way high precipices shut out all but a narrow strip of sky above and
deep shadows and solemn echoes made their swift passage along the black
stream uncanny and fearsome.
The Indians seemed a little anxious as the raft approached the entrance
of the valley. The stream was rather high and the current swifter than
they had expected. Armed with paddles, they prepared to guide the
fast-moving raft from either bank toward which it might approach too
near. Brent saw the danger and sprang to assist. The momentum which
their heavy cargo gave them carried the unwieldy craft perilously near
the right bank, where the stream turned slightly in the opposite
direction. Their speed was so great that a touch against the steep rocks
meant destruction. The four Indians plied their paddles with all their
strength to swing the head of the raft toward midstream. It was useless
to attempt to use poles against the unyielding rocks which they were
passing so rapidly.
Brent did not know this danger. He picked up a pole, sprang to the side,
and tried to fend off the raft by pushing the pole against the bank. The
pole was quickly dashed out of his hands, and, before he could recover
himself, over he plunged into the rushing stream.
The Indians heard his cry as he fell. Casimiro sprang toward him. The
young man had gone down in the still closing gap between the raft and
the precipitous bank. The chief shouted to the others to stick to their
paddles and pull still harder. Keenly he searched the dark water. In a
moment he caught sight of the body as it rose. Standing ready with a
pole, the Indian prepared to assist the young man aboard, but he
perceived when the body reached the surface that it was motionless. It
floated for a moment, only two yards from the raft and almost touching
the rocky bank past which it swept. Instantly the old man threw himself
into the water, seized the already sinking man, and with a couple of
strong strokes succeeded in getting hold of the raft. The chief called
to one of the Indians and a moment later both men were back upon the
raft.
The danger of collision was over by this time, and two minutes later
they were out under smiling skies, floating peacefully between the green
banks of the plains. Brent did not regain his senses for some time and
the Indians feared for a little that he was not merely stunned. They
found a small gash in the scalp which might mean a fractured skull, and
Casimiro was mightily relieved when the young man finally opened his
eyes. Soon he was able to make light of an adventure which had almost
put an end to his interest in Patagonian treasure-beds and all other
terrestrial affairs.
The remainder of the raft’s trip was without important incident. It was
a novel journey, not too monotonous to be boresome, and it came to a
successful end the second day in the little cove where the schooner’s
cargo had been landed nearly a month before. They grounded the raft
without attracting the attention of any one on the schooner, which still
lay anchored in the same spot in the harbor. Brent and Casimiro boarded
the ship the next morning. Her captain and crew had grown heartily tired
of their long idleness, and they welcomed the two men heartily. The work
of landing the boxes intended for containing the gold was begun at once.
Meantime, Brent instructed the mate and one of the sailors of the
schooner to take a small boat and make careful soundings of the
entrance and anchorage in the harbor. They were to prepare a rough chart
of the small bay, which would serve for navigating the steamship in
which the young man expected to return later in the year. He did not
explain, however, the purpose for which he desired the survey.
He landed all the boxes which had been made in Buenos Ayres. Twenty,
which he intended to use at once, he put upon the raft, the others he
stored upon shore where they could be filled during his absence. He did
not fill his twenty boxes quite full of gold. He spread a covering of
earth and gravel over the surface of the metal before screwing down the
cover. Within three days his cargo was aboard ship, the harbor soundings
were finished, and he was ready to sail. The task of landing the rest of
the gold from the raft was left to the Indians.
The voyage north was begun on the 12th of January. Buenos Ayres was
reached after an uneventful trip three weeks later. The twenty
enormously heavy boxes were transshipped to a steamer which was to sail
in three days for Rio Janeiro. In the three days, Brent purchased a
large supply of wire rope, spikes, saws, anchors, and other
raft-building material which Fraser believed he would need, and sent the
schooner back with them to the Patagonian coast. Then he took passage
north. He lost a week at Rio Janeiro, waiting for a boat bound to New
York, and it was finally the 15th of March when he found himself one
morning alongside the wharf at Roberts’ Stores in Brooklyn.
The custom-house inspector who came aboard did not seem particularly
interested in Brent’s twenty cases of “mineral ores.” The owner removed
the cover of one of them and the inspector poked his fingers into the
harmless looking contents and promptly passed the lot. This ordeal
passed, Brent hurried to the ferry and a few minutes later stepped
ashore in his native city.