BREAKSTONE'S QUEST
It was nearly night, and they quickly agreed that they must not remain
any longer in The Dip, however comfortable it might be. The Comanches
were bound to find them in time, and the longer their lead the better.
"The night is going to be clear," said Breakstone, "and we must leave
just as soon as we can pack our things on our horses. Everything
indicates that the country toward the west slopes down rapidly, and we
may soon pass out of the area of deep snow. Besides, we want to go
toward the west. It's my turn now, and my search lies there."
"It iss so," said Arenberg with deep feeling. "You have helped all the
rest of us, and we would not be fit to live if we did not now help you."
"I knew that you would not think of anything else," said Breakstone
simply. "I'll tell you about it a little later, but now we'll start as
soon as we can, and maybe we can come back some day and enjoy The Silver
Cup again."
The horses were brought from the sheltered valley, and their provisions
and other supplies were strapped on them. They soon discovered that
Billy knew how to ride very well, and the gentlest of the horses was
assigned to him, although he slept during the early part of the night.
But when he was roused he was full of zeal and interest, and he was also
so alert and active that he proved himself a help instead of a burden.
At midnight, they put out the fire and left a cold hearth. Then, with
some reluctant glances backward at The Dip and the snowy cover of The
Silver Cup, they rode away in single file, Breakstone leading, Phil
next, followed by John, behind whom came Billy, with Arenberg at the
rear. It was cold, but they were sufficiently clad, and they rode on
until daylight, the dry snow crunching beneath the hoofs of their
horses.
The descent proved to be sharp, and when daylight came they were in a
region where the snow was very light. They saw the plains before them
and below them, and they believed that by noon they would be entirely
beyond the expanse of snow.
"By the time those Comanches discover our abandoned home," said Bill
Breakstone, "it's likely that we'll be days and days away. We'll never
see them again because our journey leads west and always west, far
beyond the Comanche country."
"I learned from Billy," said Phil, "that it was really Black Panther who
was in command back there. Billy had been with another band, farther
west, which last spring was incorporated into the more powerful force of
Black Panther. The chief was treating Billy well, and was going to
adopt him as his son."
"Then I am glad that we shall fight no more with Black Panther," said
Arenberg.
"So am I," said Breakstone thoughtfully. "I suppose the chief has acted
according to his lights. If we'd been roaming over the country for
ages, we'd fight for it, too. Well, good-by to you, Black Panther, I
wish you many a good buffalo hunt, but that no white people may fall
into your hands."
At noon, as they had expected, they passed through the last thin sheet
of snow and entered warm country. But it was not desert here. It was a
region of buffalo grass, with shallow streams and scattered timber. It
was very pleasant after so much riding through the snow, and, after
resting an hour by the side of one of the rivulets, they kept on until
night. They were not compelled to spend any time in hunting a camp, but
stopped under a clump of trees, turned the horses loose to graze on the
plentiful grass, and spread their own blankets on the turf. They were
too tired to light a fire, but they ate heartily of the cold food, and
then lay back comfortably on the blankets. Billy fell asleep in a few
minutes, but the others did not yet feel the desire for slumber. The
ride of a day and half a night had not been hard, but, as much of that
ride had been downward, the change was wonderful. Gone was the deep
snow, gone the biting winds. They wrestled with neither the ice nor the
desert, but lay upon a carpet of pine needles and breathed an air that
came, crisp with life, from the mountains. Bill Breakstone luxuriated
in it, and finally, observing that the others were not asleep, he sat
up.
"Boys," he said, "I think the time has come for me to tell you about the
errand that has brought me so far, and that's going to take me a lot
farther. I haven't said anything about the nature of it before, because
it was the one that could wait longest. Sit up and look at what I'm
going to show you."
They sat up on their blankets, and he took from his pocket a little
package which he unwrapped and looked at a moment or two. Then he
poured the contents out upon his blanket. They looked like gravel or
grains of stone, but the moon was good then, and from some of the grains
came a slight metallic glitter, like pin-points of light.
"That," said Bill Breakstone in deeply impressive tones, "is gold."
"It looks more like gravel to me," said John Bedford.
"It is gravel, too," said Breakstone, "gravel, and gold in the gravel."
"About how much iss your gold worth?" asked Arenberg skeptically.
"Fifty cents, maybe," replied Bill Breakstone.
"Which wouldn't carry you far."
"No, it wouldn't," said Breakstone genially. "But see here, my merry
Dutchman, a man may have a million dollars in the bank, and carry only a
dime in his pocket. That's me. This is my sample, my specimen. It came
from a spot far away, but there's a million more, or something like it,
there waiting for us. Listen to me, Sir Philip of the River and the
Plain, Sir Hans of the Forest and the Snow, and even you, Sir John of
the Castle and the Cell, and I will tell you a glittering tale which is
true."
Every one moved forward a few inches on his blanket, and their figures
grew tense with interest. The moon sent a broad shaft of light through
an opening in the trees directly upon the face of Bill Breakstone,
showing eyes that sparkled with the pleasure of one who held a great
secret that he was willing to tell to others.
"I'm not joking," continued Bill Breakstone earnestly. "I'm a rover, but
I find when I rove. There's gold, lots of it, far west across the great
mountains in California. You find it in the sand and gravel along the
edges of streams which are dry most of the year. A man can generally do
the work all by himself, with water and a pan, sifting the gold dust
from the baser stuff.
"It's a terribly wild country of hills and of tremendously high
mountains covered with snow. When the snow melts and the water comes
down into these dry creek and river beds it comes with a mighty rush,
and it washes the gold from the rocks along with it. At least, that's
my theory, and the gold has been piling up for ages in dust and grains
along the edges of these beds in the valleys below. I found this dust
in a wild country about a thousand miles from here, but I can go
straight back to the place."
The others were continually creeping a little nearer and a little nearer
on their blankets, and the moonlight which found new openings through
the trees showed three more pairs of eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Why did you come away after you found the gold?" asked Phil.
"Because I lacked supplies. Because I was alone. Because California
belonged to the Mexicans. Because the Indians were dangerous to one
man. Any of these reasons was good enough, but we can take supplies in
abundance. I will not be alone. I doubt very much whether California
now belongs to the Mexicans, or will belong to them much longer, and it
is very likely that the Indians have wandered off into some other
region. Boys, after so many dangers we'll all be rich."
"But, Bill," said Phil, "we can't take your gold, which you found after
so much hardship and danger."
Bill Breakstone gave Phil Bedford a threatening look.
"I wish you to listen to a few words of wisdom," he said in a menacing
tone, "and take care that you listen well. If I hear any more such
foolishness from you, Sir Philip of the River and the Plain, you'll lose
your golden spurs and your silver breastplate and your steel helmet and
all your titles. You'll be degraded into the position of a common
varlet to pull off my shoes, to bring me the mead to quaff, and to have
a spear shaft broken over your wooden head when you're not bright and
lively. And to you, Hans Arenberg, I give the same advice. I'll make
you the King's Jester, and, with that solemn Prussian face of yours and
that solemn Prussian mind of yours, you'll find jesting for me about as
hard a task as any man ever undertook. And you, John Bedford, I will
deliver bound hand and foot to your friend Captain Pedro de Armijo with
the great red scar across his face which you put there. What a crisp
little revenge he would take! I can see you now frying over the coals."
"But, Bill," persisted Phil, "it's your find."
"I know it, but you needn't think that ends everything. It's only the
beginning. We've got to get back to that dead river of mine, and for
that I need comrades. We've got to do weeks and weeks of work, and for
that I need comrades. We've got to fight off danger, Indians perhaps,
Mexicans perhaps, outlaws perhaps, and for that I need comrades. After
we get the gold we've got to bring it safely to civilization, and for
that I need comrades. Also, there is so much of the gold in the bed of
the dead river that I could not spend it all alone, and for that I need
comrades. Now will you come willingly and share and share alike with
me, or shall I have to yoke up together and drive you unwillingly?"
"We'll come," said Phil, and John and Arenberg added their assent.
"I wish the Captain was with us, too," said Bill Breakstone. "He
belongs in this crowd, and he ought to have some of the gold."
Phil and Arenberg echoed his regret at the absence of Middleton.
"Now that it is all settled," said Bill Breakstone, "I'm going to
sleep."
In five minutes he was sound in slumber, and the others soon followed
him to that pleasant land.
They resumed their journey the next morning, but they advanced in
leisurely fashion. Breakstone warned them that there were other high
ranges ahead, and they agreed that it would not be wise to attempt their
passage in winter. Hence, they must find a winter home in some
sheltered spot, where the three requisites of wild life, wood, water,
and game, could be found. It did not take them long to find such a
place, and they built a rude cabin, using it as their base during the
remainder of the winter, which was mild, as they were not at a great
elevation. Although they made an occasional scout, they never found any
Indian sign, and the cold weather passed in comparative ease and safety.
Little Billy developed at a remarkable rate, and here he sloughed off
the last vestige of the Indian. But he had learned many cunning arts in
hunting, trapping, and fishing which he never forgot, and there were
some things pertaining to these in which he could instruct his elders.
Not a single hunter, trapper, or rover of any kind passed through during
the winter months, and they often wondered what was going on in the
world without.
"I'd surely like to see the Captain again," said Bill Breakstone one
cold evening as they sat by their fire. "Just to think of all that he
went through with us, and now he's vanished into thin air. Maybe he's
dead, killed in some battle a thousand miles down in Mexico."
"I don't believe the Captain is killed," spoke up Phil promptly. "I
don't believe that he's the kind of man who would be killed. But a lot
of things must have happened since we left. There must have been some
big fighting away down there by the City of Mexico. Do you think we
could have been whipped, Bill?"
"Phil, I've half a mind to take away all your titles without another
word," replied Breakstone reprovingly. "How could you think of our being
whipped, after what you saw at Buena Vista?"
"That's so," said Phil, his cheerfulness coming back at once.
Late in the spring they began the passage of the ranges, and although it
was a long, hard, and sometimes dangerous task, they got safely across
with all their horses, coming again into a plains country, which merged
farther west into a desert. Here they were about to make a great loop
northward, around the Mexican settlements, when they met an American
soldier carrying dispatches. They hailed him, and, when he stopped,
they rode forward, all eagerness. It was deputed to Bill Breakstone to
ask the momentous question, and he asked it:
"How is the war going on?"
The soldier looked at them, amused little crinkles at the corners of his
mouth. He knew by their appearance that these were people who had been
long in the wilderness.
"It isn't getting on at all," he replied.
"What!" cried Bill Breakstone appalled.
"It isn't going on, because it's all over. General Scott marched
straight to the City of Mexico. He fought a half dozen terrible
battles, but he won every one of them, and then took the City of Mexico
itself. A treaty of peace was signed February 2 last. You are riding
now on American soil. New Mexico, Arizona, California, and vast regions
to the north of us have been ceded to the United States."
"Hurrah!" they cried together, Billy joining in with as much enthusiasm
as the others.
"What about Santa Fe?" asked Bill Breakstone.
"It's occupied by an American garrison, and there is complete peace
everywhere. The only danger is from wandering Indians."
"We know how to fight them," said Bill Breakstone. "Boys, we ride for
Santa Fe."
The soldier continued northward, and they turned the heads of their
horses toward the New Mexico capital, reaching, in good time and without
loss, the queer little old Spanish and Indian town from which the flags
of Spain and then of Mexico had disappeared forever. They intended to
remain only two or three days in order to obtain more horses and fresh
supplies. Then they would slip quietly out of the town, because they
wished their errand to be known to nobody. On the second day Bill
Breakstone and Phil were walking together, when a man in sober civilian
dress suddenly seized a hand of each in a firm grasp, and exclaimed in
joy:
"Why, boys, when did you come here?"
"The Captain!" exclaimed Bill Breakstone. "How things do come around!"
It was Middleton, his very self, thinner and browner, but with the same
fine open countenance and alert look. Bill and his comrade explained
rapidly about the rescue of John Bedford, the recovery of little Billy
Arenberg, and their passage through the mountains.
"And now," said Breakstone, "you tell us, Captain, how you happen to be
up here in Santa Fe in civilian dress."
Middleton smiled a little sadly as he replied:
"The war is over. We won many brilliant victories. We were never beaten
once. And I'm glad it's over, but there is nothing left for the
majority of the younger officers. I should probably remain a captain
all the rest of my life at some obscure frontier station, and so I've
resigned from the army."
A light leaped up in Bill Breakstone's eyes, but he asked very quietly:
"And what are you meaning to do now, Captain?"
"I don't know, but I've been hearing talk about gold in California, and
perhaps I'll go there to hunt it."
"Of course you will!" exclaimed Bill Breakstone, letting himself go.
"You're going to start to-morrow, and you're going with us. I know
right where that gold is, and I'm going to lead you and the rest of the
boys to it. You remember that every one of us had a quest that drew us
into the West. The secret of the gold is mine. We need you and we
share alike. As I've told the others, there's enough for all."
Middleton was easily persuaded, and they left Santa Fe the next morning
before daylight, taking little Billy Arenberg with them. They traveled
a long time toward the northwest, crossing mountains and deserts, until
they reached the mighty range of the Sierra Nevada. This, too, they
crossed without accident or loss, and then Bill Breakstone led them
straight to the dead river and up its channel to the hidden gold. Here
he dug in the bank and showed them the result.
"Am I right or am I wrong?" he asked exultantly.
"Right!" they replied with one voice.
At first they washed out the gold, but afterward they used both the
cradle and the sluice methods. The deposits were uncommonly rich, and
they worked there all through the summer and winter. The next spring,
Middleton and Arenberg carried a great treasure of gold on horses to San
Francisco. They also took Billy Arenberg with them, but on their way
back they left him, to his huge regret, at a good school in Sacramento,
while they rejoined their comrades on the great Breakstone claim. They
exhausted it in another year, but they were all now as rich as they
wished to be, and they descended into the beautiful valley of
California, where they expected to make their homes.
THE END