yards--for, although long-distance shooting may be very nice as a test
of shooting at the Wimbledon targets, it is quite a different matter
when your dinner depends on the success of your shot; for, with that
consideration in view, even the surest of marksmen likes to get within
easy reach of his game.
Mr Rawlings and Noah Webster, the two best shots of the party, levelled
their rifles together--after a brief nod from the Indian half-breed
which seemed to say "Now's your time"--and fired simultaneously, aiming
at two of the wild sheep.
At the very moment they did so, the report of a third shot was heard,
that seemed like the echo of their own double discharge, pinging through
the keen rarefied air; and when the smoke had cleared off, and the
reverberations of the sound had died away, rolling in fainter and
fainter waves amongst the mountain hollows in the distance, three of the
sheep were observed to be stretched lifeless on the plateau where they
had been so recently feeding in peace, while the remainder of the flock
were bounding away from peak to peak, seeking refuge in their native
fortresses in the crags above.
Mr Rawlings did not notice anything unusual at first, as he had not
heard the third rifle-shot; but Noah Webster and the half-breed, who
were much better accustomed to woodcraft--having had their senses
sharpened by dangers which seamen never have to encounter--were alive at
once to the perception of something being wrong.
"Injuns, I reckon!" muttered Noah Webster under his breath, to which the
half-breed growled a characteristic "Ugh," and the two sank down closer
amid the grass, dragging down Mr Rawlings with them, Noah stopping his
expostulations by clapping his hand across his mouth, and looking at him
warningly, while he motioned to the rest behind them to follow their
example.
All huddled together in the grass and tangled brushwood, hardly
breathing for fear their presence might be discovered by some possible
foe, they looked out carefully, awaiting the development of the
situation.
It was only a minute or two at most, but it appeared hours to one or
two, especially to poor Josh, who, in his fright of being scalped by a
possible Indian, would have cheerfully given up all his chances of gold
in the mine and everything, to have swapped places with the envious
Jasper and been safe in camp.
The listeners, however, did not have to wait so very long.
In a little while they heard the sound of twigs being broken near them,
as if some one were making his way through the copse. Soon they could
distinguish, in addition, the heavy tramp of footsteps--they sounded as
heavy as those of elephants to them, with their ears to the ground--
trampling down the thick undergrowth and rotten twigs in the thicket
before them; and they could also hear a sort of muttering sound, like
that caused by somebody speaking to himself in soliloquy.
The situation, if an exciting one, was not of any long duration, for
while they were listening the denouement came.
A nondescript-clad figure came out of the brushwood into the open
clearing, walking towards the spot where the mountain-sheep lay
stretched on the sward, which was partly covered with the snow that
remained unmelted under the lee of the cliff; and a voice, without doubt
appertaining to the figure, exclaimed in unmistakable English accents--
"Well, I'm hanged if I ever heard of such a thing before in my life! I
know I am a tidy shot, but if I were to mention this at home they would
say I was telling a confounded lie! To think of killing three of those
queer creatures at one shot! By Jove, who'd believe it?"
The listeners burst into a simultaneous roar of laughter.
"It's only a Britisher!" said Noah Webster; and they all rose from their
covert and sallied out into the open, to the intense astonishment of the
new-comer, whose surprise was evidently mixed with a proportionate
amount of alarm, for he clutched his gun more tightly at the sight of
them, and stood apparently on the defensive.
STORY ONE, CHAPTER EIGHT.
AN UNEXPECTED COINCIDENCE.
"We are friends," Mr Rawlings said, "some of us your countrymen, if, as
I judge by your accent, you are an Englishman. We are working a mine in
this neighbourhood. My name is Rawlings, and I am the proprietor of the
mine."
"My name is Wilton--Ernest Wilton," the stranger said, taking the hand
that Mr Rawlings held out. "I am glad indeed to meet with a party of
my countrymen. Some little time since I started from Oregon with a
prospecting party that was organised to hunt up various openings for the
employment of capital in mining, and other speculative enterprises.
With this party I crossed the Rocky Mountains, and went about from place
to place, until about three days ago, when, while shooting amongst these
hills of yours, either I lost them or they lost me, and here I have been
wandering about ever since by myself, and would probably have come to
grief if I had not met you. By profession I am a mining engineer, but
the mine I had come from England to work turned out badly, and I
accepted another engagement, thinking to do a little sporting and
exploring on my own account before returning to England--nice sport I've
found it, too!"
Mr Rawlings gave the stranger an earnest invitation to spend a day or
two with them down at the creek.
The visitor readily accepted; and the game being lifted and slung on
poles, the party started for the camp, Mr Rawlings strolling on with
his new acquaintance, and the others following, talking earnestly
together.
Arrived at the house, Mr Rawlings laughingly apologised for its state
of dilapidation, but assured the visitor that it was far more
comfortable than it looked.
Seth came to the doorway, and the other miners gathered round, to
inspect both the welcome supply of fresh food and the stranger.
"This is Seth Allport, my lieutenant and manager," Mr Rawlings said.
"Seth, this is Mr Wilton, an English mining engineer."
"Jerusalem!" exclaimed Seth. "Now, who would have thought that?"
"You seem surprised at my being an engineer," said Ernest Wilton,
laughing at Seth's exclamation: for even the hungry miners, who had been
previously clustered in groups around Josh and Jasper, surveying the
cooking arrangements of the two darkeys with longing eyes, appeared to
forget the claims of their appetites for the moment on the announcement
of what evidently was a welcome piece of news, as they incontinently
abandoned the grateful sight of the frizzling mutton, that was also
sending forth the most savoury odours, and joined the leaders of the
party who were interviewing the young Englishman. "I shouldn't have
thought one of my profession by any means a strange visitor."
"It isn't the surprise, mister," replied Seth cordially. "No, that
ain't it, quite, I reckon. It's the coincidence, as it were, at this
particular time, mister. That's what's the matter! Jehosophat! it is
queer, streenger!"
"I'm sure I ought to feel greatly honoured at such an imposing
reception," said Ernest, still rather perplexed at the ovation, which
seemed unaccountable to him. "It is not such a very uncommon thing for
an engineer to be travelling through these regions, is it now?
especially when you consider that it has been mainly through the
exertions of men of my craft, and the railways that they have planned,
following in their wake, that the country has been opened up at all. I
should have thought engineers almost as common nowadays out west as
blackberries in old England."
"You are right there," said Mr Rawlins's, hastening to explain the
circumstances that had caused his arrival to be looked upon as such a
piece of good fortune, quite apart from the friendly feelings with which
they regarded him as a forlorn stranger whom they were glad to welcome
to their camp. "But, you see, your coming, as Seth Allport has just
remarked, has been almost coincident with a loss, or rather want, which
we just begin to feel in our mining operations here. Your arrival has
happened just in the nick of time, when we are nearly at a standstill
through the want of a competent superintending engineer, like yourself,
experienced in mines and mining work. Hands we have in plenty--willing
and able hands, too," added Mr Rawlings, with an approving glance round
at the assembled miners, who acknowledged the compliment with a hearty
cheer for himself and Seth Allport;--"but we want a head to suggest how
our efforts can be best directed, and our gear utilised, towards
carrying out the object we all have in view. I and Seth have done our
best; but, what with the overflow of water in the mine, and the
necessity we think there is now for running out side cuttings from the
main shaft, so as to strike the lode properly, we were fairly at our
wits' end."
"I see," said Ernest Wilton musingly, "I see."
"An' if yer like to join us in that air capacity," interposed Seth,
thinking that the other was merely keeping back his decision until he
heard what terms might be offered him, and that a practical suggestion
about money matters would settle the matter, "why, mister, we sha'n't
grumble about the dollars, you bet! As yer knows, the Kernel kinder
invited yer jest now, when we had no sort o' reckonin' as to who and
what yer were. Tharr'll be no worry about yer share ov the plunder,
neow--no, sir."
"Oh, pray don't mention that," exclaimed Ernest Wilton, pained at the
interpretation put upon his reticence in accepting the offer of the
position made him. "Nothing was further from my thoughts. I am too
well acquainted with the open-handedness of the mining fraternity in the
Golden State and elsewhere to dream of haggling about terms as to the
payment of my poor services."
"What, then?" said Seth. "We don't want to bind you down to any fixed
sort o' 'greement, if yu'd rather not."
"I was only considering," replied Ernest, vexed at his own hesitancy,
"whether I could fairly give up the party with whom I started from
Oregon, as I was under a species of engagement, as it were, although
there was no absolutely signed and sealed undertaking. It wouldn't be
right, I think, to leave them altogether without notice."
"Nary mind the half-hearted lot," said Noah Webster, at this juncture
putting his spoke in the wheel. "Didn't they leave yer out alone in the
mountains? I wouldn't give a red cent for sich pardners, I guess, boss.
Raal mean skunks I calls 'em, and no mistake, sirree!"
"But I promised to stay with these fellows till we got over to the
settlements on this side," said Ernest Wilton, smiling at Noah's
characteristic vehemence against those half-hearted companions of his
who had held back while he had gone forward by himself, "and I like to
keep my word when I can, you know--at all events I ought to send and let
them know where I am."
"We sha'n't quarrel about that," said Mr Rawlings kindly, to put the
other at his ease, for some of the rough miners did not appear to like
the Englishman's hanging back from jumping at their leader's offer.--"A
man who is so anxious to keep his word, even with people who left him in
the lurch, will be all the more likely to act straightforwardly towards
us. Don't, however, let that fret you, for you will be able to
communicate as easily with your friends, and more so, by stopping here
with us, as by going on to the nearest frontier township. As soon as
the snow has melted, and the roads become passable again, there will be
plentiful supply of half-breeds, like Moose there, and other gentry with
nothing particular to do, come hanging round us, who will gladly carry
any message or letter for you across the hills--for a leetle
consideration, of course!" added Mr Rawlings, with his bluff, hearty
laugh.
"Ay, that there'll be," said Seth Allport. "Don't you trouble about
that, mister; but jine with us a free heart, and run our injine for us,
and we'll be downright glad, I guess!"
"That we will, sure!" chorussed the miners in a body, with a shout. And
so, pressed with a rough but hearty cordiality, Ernest Wilton consented
to be a member of the mining party in the same frank spirit, and was now
saluted as one of the Minturne Creek adventurers in a series of ringing
cheers that made the hill-sides echo again, and the cavernous canon
sound the refrain afar.
Jasper and Josh, now quite reconciled after some "little bit of
unpleasantness" between them, that had resulted in operations tending
towards a lowering of the wool crop, as far as each was personally
concerned, were unfeignedly glad the rather prolonged conference was
over. They had been gazing at the group gathered around the young
Englishman with a sort of puzzled wonder, and listening to what scraps
of conversation they chanced to overhear, without being able to make out
what the matter was about, with feelings of mingled expectancy and
impatience at the length of the debate. But, now it was all settled, as
they could see from the dispersal of the group, their joy was great,
especially that of Master Jasper, who felt his dignity hurt, as a former
steward and present butler in ordinary, on account of the neglect paid
to his intimation that the viands were ready and "dinner served!"
"Hooray!" shouted out Josh, throwing up his battered straw-hat into the
air, and capering round the improvised caboose, in response to the
miners' ringing cheers on Ernest's consent to join the party and act as
engineer of the mine. "Me berry glad Massa Britisher now am one of us,
for sure! Golly, we nebbah hab to put up with dat nasty salt pork no
more now, yup, yup! Massa Britisher um berry good shot, su-ah! Um
shoot tree sheep at one go. Golly, Jasper, you no laugh. I tell you
for true!"--And the negro cook grinned himself, to the full extent of
his wide mouth and glistening ivory teeth, while administering this
rebuke to his darkey brother.
"Shoo! go way wid yer nonsenz, and don't bodder me," responded the
hungry and aggrieved Jasper, who did not appreciate the joke, the young
Englishman's humorous mistake as to the result of his rifle-shot not
having yet been promulgated for the benefit of those in camp. "Am none
ob you gentlemens comin' to dinnah, hey?"--he called out more
loudly,--"Massa Rawlins me tellee hab tings ready in brace o' shakes;
and now tings fix up tarnation smart, nobody come. Um berry
aggerabating--can't oberstand it, no how!"
"None o' your sass," said Seth gruffly, although the lurking smile on
his face took off from the effect of his words, "none o' your sass,
Jasper, or I'll keelhaul you, and make you fancy yourself aboard ship
once more!"
"Me not sassy, Massa Seth. I'se hab too much respect for myself, sah,
for dat! I only tells you as de meat's done and gettin' cool, dat's
all, while yous be all jabberin' way jus like passul monkeys. No
imperance in dat, massa, as I sees!"
"Stow that, you ugly cuss," said Seth good-humouredly, for he was used
somewhat to Master Jasper's "cheek" by this time. "You're jest about as
bad as a Philadelphy lawyer, when you've got your jaw tackle aboard!
Now, boys," he added, hailing the miners, who were nothing loth to obey
the signal, "the darkey says the vittles are ready, and you as wants to
feed had better fall to!"
STORY ONE, CHAPTER NINE.
CONCERNING SAILOR BILL.
During this little interlude, Ernest Wilton had been closely engaged in
watching the actions of the poor boy, "Sailor Bill."
His face had attracted him from the first moment he caught sight of him;
but when he had more leisure to observe him, after the palaver with Mr
Rawlings and the miners was over, and he noticed certain peculiarities
about the object of his attention which had previously escaped his
notice, his interest became greatly heightened.
Sailor Bill had altered very much in appearance since the day he had
been picked up in the Bay of Biscay and taken on board the _Susan Jane_,
a thin, delicate-looking boy with a pale face and a wasted frame. The
keen healthy air and out-of-doors life out west had worked wonders with
him, and he was now rosy and stalwart, his body having filled out and
his cheeks grown much fatter, while he was even considerably taller than
he had been some six months previously.
His bright golden-brown hair was, of course, the same, and so were the
long dark lashes to the blue eyes that had so especially appealed to
Captain Blowser's fancy when he had spoken about the boy's resemblance
to a girl, for they yet bore the same peculiar far-away look as if they
belonged to a person walking in his sleep, without intelligence or
notice in them whatever.
As on board ship, Sailor Bill stuck to Seth Allport as his shadow,
moving where he moved, stopping where he stopped, with the faithful
attachment of a dog, albeit wanting in that expression of sagacity,
which even the dullest specimen of the canine race exhibits on all
occasions. Seth Allport seemed to be the mainspring of the boy's
action, and after a time it became almost painful to watch the two,
although the sailor had now grown accustomed to being followed about in
so eccentric a fashion--as had, indeed, the rest of the party, who were
not so distinctly singled out by the poor boy's regard; but it was all
new and strange to Ernest Wilton as he watched and wondered.
"What is the matter with the boy?" asked he presently of Mr Rawlings,
who, from the fixed observation of his companion, had been expecting the
question. "Poor fellow, he doesn't seem all right in his mind--and a
healthy, nice-looking boy, too!"
"Yes," said Mr Rawlings, tapping his forehead expressively, and
speaking feelingly as he looked affectionately at Sailor Bill, whom all
had learnt to like as they would have done a pet dog;--"something wrong
there, although I hope in time he will get over it in the same way as he
came by it, if God so wills it!"
"I suppose he's got some story attached to him, eh?" said Ernest Wilton.
"No doubt," answered Mr Rawlings; "but nobody but himself knows it!"
"How strangely you pique my curiosity! Besides, his face seems quite
familiar to me, somehow or other. Yes, it's really quite familiar," he
repeated.
"Does it?" said Mr Rawlings eagerly, hoping that the young engineer
might be able to tell something.
"Yes," replied the other, "and I cannot tell how or where I have seen
somebody like him before. But I will recollect presently, I have no
doubt, after a little more reflection."
"We picked up the poor chap at sea, half-drowned, and bleeding from a
very terrible cut across the forehead; and such a slender thin shaving
of a boy that you would not have known him to be the same as he is now!"
"Indeed!" said Ernest Wilton with greater interest even than he had
displayed before; and thereupon Mr Rawlings told the whole story of
Sailor Bill's rescue, and how he afterwards saved the life of Seth
Allport, to whom he had thenceforward attached himself; and how the
worthy sailor had refused to part with him, and brought him out west.
The young engineer had been carefully noting all the points of the
narrative while the other was speaking; and seemed to revolve the whole
circumstances of Sailor Bill's history in his mind with a view to
solving the mystery.
"I shouldn't be surprised," said he, when Mr Rawlings had completed his
yarn, "if he belonged to that deserted ship which you subsequently came
across; and that in the mutiny, or whatever else occurred on board, he
got wounded and thrown into the sea."
"That is possible," said Mr Rawlings, "but not quite probable,
considering the time that elapsed after our saving him to meeting with
the water-logged vessel, and the distance we traversed in the interval.
Besides, the boy was lashed to the spar that supported him in the water,
and he couldn't have done that, with the wound he had received, by
himself; so that gets rid of the theory of his being half-murdered and
pitched overboard. Altogether, the story is one of those secrets of the
sea that will never be unravelled, unless he comes to his senses at some
time or other and tells us all about it!"
"And you don't know his name, or anything?"
"No, only just what I have told you."
"Had he no marks on his clothing, or anything in his pockets, that might
serve for identification, should any one claim him by and by?" said
Ernest Wilton, pursuing his interrogatories like a cross-examining
barrister fussy over his first case.
"He had nothing on but his shirt and trousers, I tell you," said Mr
Rawlings, laughing at what he called the badgering of the other, just as
if he were in a witness-box, he said, "and boys don't carry many letters
or documents about them, especially in their trousers' pockets; at all
events, they didn't do so when I was a boy. Stay--" he added,
bethinking himself suddenly of one item of the story he had apparently
forgotten till then,--"I certainly passed over something."
"What?" said Ernest, still looking at Sailor Bill steadfastly, as if
trying in vain to summon up the recollection of his features from the
hazy depths of his memory; for the face of the boy seemed more and more
familiar to him the longer he looked.
"Well," replied Mr Rawlings, with a little hesitation, "I don't suppose
you want to know about the boy merely to satisfy an idle curiosity at
seeing the poor, bereaved, young creature to be out of his mind?"
"Certainly not," said Ernest Wilton. "What you have already told me,
besides his own innocent, guileless look, has interested me strangely in
him; and, in addition to that, I'm sure I know something about him or
somebody extremely like him, which I cannot at present recall to my
recollection."
"I believe you honestly," replied Mr Rawlings, stretching forth his
hand in token of good faith, which the other cordially grasped; "and,
that being the case, I can tell you something more, which only Seth
Allport and myself know about, and which we have kept to ourselves as a
matter of confidence on the poor boy's behalf. Of course, Captain
Blowser of the _Susan Jane_ knows about it, too, as he was entitled to
by rights, from having picked the little chap up; but he's at sea, and
it doesn't matter whether he divulges it or not, as it wouldn't be of
much consequence to the boy; here on land, however, where anybody might
track him out from interested or other motives, it is a very different
matter; so I must ask you on your word of honour to keep the
circumstance to yourself."
"Most decidedly," said Ernest Wilton heartily; "I pledge you my word I
will--until, at all events, you think it best, should things so happen,
that it ought to be divulged."
"All right," responded Mr Rawlings, trusting implicitly in the other's
discretion. "Now, I'll tell you. When I said that the boy had only his
shirt and trousers on in the way of garments, and that there was nothing
in his pockets to disclose his identity, I related you only the simple
truth, for there was nothing to trace him by; and I remember that
Captain Blowser, of the _Susan Jane_, regretted afterwards that the spar
to which we found him lashed had been cut adrift, without any one having
examined it carefully to see whether there might not have been the name
of the ship painted on the yard, or a portion of the canvas, or
something else in the top along with the boy--for there was the topmast
and yard, and all the gear of the whole mast complete, as if it had been
carried away in a moment. But you recollect what I told you, of the
boy's dashing out of the cabin as if he had been taken with a sudden
frenzy, and going to rescue Seth Allport when he was swept over the side
by the broken topsail-halliards in that squall?"
"Yes, quite well," answered Ernest Wilton.
"Well, after that he fainted away almost dead again for some time; and
when I was bending over him trying to rouse him, I noticed a thin silken
string round his neck, which I hadn't noticed previously, nor had Jasper
the steward, although his shirt had been opened there, and his bosom
bared in our efforts to resuscitate him, when he first took him down
into the cabin."
"A fine silken string?" repeated the other, as Mr Rawlings paused for a
moment in his recital; "a fine silken string round his neck?"
"Yes; and on drawing out the end of it I found a small parchment parcel,
carefully sealed up with red sealing-wax, and an official kind of stamp
over it which had been before concealed in an inside pocket cunningly
secreted in the waist-part of the boy's flannel shirt."
"And this parcel contained?" said the young engineer with breathless
attention.
"Ah! that's what I just don't know," said Mr Rawlings with provoking
coolness.
STORY ONE, CHAPTER TEN.
A CONUNDRUM.