the speaker had deliberately led him on with the intention, finally, of
"selling" him, or perpetrating an April fool trick at his expense, it
just being about that time of year. But after one steadfast glance at
Mr Rawlings' unmoved face, which bore an expression of honest sincerity
that could not be doubted, he laughed off his annoyance, for he could
perceive that his companion was perfectly guiltless of any attempt at a
joke, and had said what he did in serious confidence.
"Did you not open the packet?" said he, when he had stifled his
laughter, which increased all the more from Mr Rawlings'
unconsciousness of having done or said anything to provoke it.
"No, I didn't do it at the time, thinking it might be some little
keepsake or love-token which the boy would not have liked any prying
eyes to look into if he were in the full possession of his faculties;
and afterwards, when I wanted to, thinking that it might disclose his
identity, Seth wouldn't allow it."
"Hullo!" said that worthy, coming up at the moment, with Sailor Bill in
close attendance behind him as usual, "what are you two chaps a
conspiring about? I guess," he continued, with the broad smile that
seemed to illumine the whole of his rugged countenance and give it such
a pleasant, cheery look, "you're up to some mischief about me, hey? I
kalkerlate I heard my name kinder mentioned."
"We were talking about the boy, Seth," said Mr Rawlings, smiling too.
"Speakin' 'bout my b'y, wer' yer?" said he, turning half round as he
spoke, to pat Sailor Bill's head kindly. "Poor feller! yer might ha'
sunthin' a sight worse ter talk about, I reckon! He's a chap as can't
do harm to none whatsomdever, if he can't do 'em no good, as he once did
to me, I guess."
"You can't forget that, Seth?" said Mr Rawlings.
"No, nor won't as long as this chile draws breath nether," answered the
ex-mate of the _Susan Jane_, feelingly, with a look of almost parental
fondness at the boy.
"Mr Wilton here was wondering, Seth," continued Mr Rawlings, "why you
would not let me open that package round poor Sailor Bill's neck, to see
whether it would give us any clue to who he is."
The smile faded instantly from Seth Allport's face, which reassumed its
normal grim, firm look, just as if some one had dealt him what he would
have called a "back-hander."
"Mr Wilton may wonder, and you too, Mr Rawlings, but I jest won't
that, siree, not if I know it. Nary a soul shall look upon it, I guess,
till that thar b'y opens it hisself. I said that months agone,
Rawlings, as you knows well, and I say it now agin."
"I wish I could recollect whom he resembles, really," said Ernest
Wilton, to give a turn to the conversation, which had got into such an
unpleasant hitch. "There is nothing so worrying as to try and puzzle
over a face which you seem to remember and which you cannot place."
"Yes," said Mr Rawlings; "like a name sometimes seems to hover right on
the tip of your tongue, and yet you can't get it out, try what you may.
I suppose you left England only lately?"
"I?" replied the young engineer. "Why, it's nearly four years since I
left Liverpool for America--quite."
"Perhaps you keep up communication, however, with the tight little
island, eh?" said Mr Rawlings. "I daresay some one was sorry to lose
you."
"Not they," said Ernest Wilton carelessly. "`I care for nobody, no, not
I, and nobody cares for me,'" he hummed in a rich baritone voice,
although there was a tone of sadness in it that belied the tenor of the
words. "I assure you," he added presently, in one of those sudden
bursts of confidence in which some of us are apt to indulge sometimes
when we get a sympathetic listener, "that I haven't written home or
heard from thence for more than three years, and they will have thought
me dead by this time! I've no doubt there is a large parcel of letters
and papers awaiting me now in New York, where I told them to address me
when I came to America; for I've not been back there either since the
day I landed, when I started straight across the continent for
California, with a gentleman who had an interest in some mines there,
with whom I came over in the same steamer from Liverpool; and I have
never been eastwards again, or turned my face thither till I came
through Oregon as far as this place, which is still considerable to the
west, I think, eh?"
And he laughed lightly, as if he did not care to talk much of home or
its associations.
"I don't think it's quite right, though," suggested Mr Rawlings in his
grave, kind way, "altogether to abandon one's relatives and friends in
that fashion."
"No?" said the young man inquiringly; and then added more frankly,
impressed by the manner of the other, "Well, perhaps it isn't quite the
right thing to do; but I have been a rover almost all my life, and a
wanderer from home. Besides, my parents are both dead, and there's
nobody now who particularly cares about me or my welfare in old
England."
"_Not_ anybody?" persisted Mr Rawlings, who thought it strange that
such a nice, handsome fellow as the young engineer appeared should be
without some tie in the world to hold him to his country.
"I certainly have an uncle and aunt and some cousins," said Ernest
Wilton, acknowledging his relatives as if he were confessing some
peccadillo; "and my aunt used to be fond of me as a boy, I remember
well."
"Then I should write to her," said Mr Rawlings. "When you get as old
as I am, you won't like to feel yourself alone amongst strangers, and
without some one to connect you with the past of your childhood."
"I will write to my aunt, then, as you have reminded me of my
shortcomings," said Ernest Wilton, laughing. "I promise you that at any
rate."
"That's a good fellow. I'm sure you won't regret it afterwards," said
Mr Rawlings, who was then proceeding to ask the young engineer
something about his journey from California to Dakota when Seth, who had
listened patiently to their conversation so far, now interrupted them.
"Come, mister," said he, addressing Ernest Wilton, "I suggest--"
"Do call me by my right name, please," interposed the good-humoured
young fellow, speaking in such a sort of pleading way that Seth could
not take offence.
"Waal, thin, ef yer are so partick'ler," replied that worthy, with a
very bad pretence of being angry, "kim along, Wilton, thaar now! and see
to this mine of ourn that you've now got to look arter. How does yer
like that style anyhow?"
"Decidedly better," responded the young engineer, with his frank,
light-hearted laugh, in which Mr Rawlings joined.
And the four then proceeded in the direction of the shaft, Seth leading
the way, with Sailor Bill, as usual behind him.
STORY ONE, CHAPTER ELEVEN.
A ROUNDABOUT ROUTE.
"It must have been a rough journey for you, all the way from Oregon in
almost the depth of winter," said Mr Rawlings, as he and Ernest Wilton
followed after Seth Allport, seizing the opportunity of proceeding with
the conversation which the ex-mate had interrupted.
Mr Rawlings had taken a strong fancy to the young Englishman from the
first, and the more he saw of his frank, open nature, the more he liked
him.
The feeling, too, was evidently mutual, the younger man being attracted
by the bluff, hearty, honest outspokenness of the other, who could not
conceal his unaffected delight at once more coming across one from the
old country, with whom he could converse on a different footing than he
could with the rough miners who composed the majority of his camp
party--men who, with the exception of Seth Allport, were totally
uneducated and uncultivated. Of course, Mr Rawlings was used to these,
and got along with them well enough; but, that was no reason why he
should not enjoy a chat with a person more of his own class and status
in life, was it?
Rather the reverse, one would think; for, to Mr Rawlings, the
conversation of Ernest Wilton, after the usual style of talk to which he
had now been habituated for months, came as grateful as water to a
thirsty land--or, to use a parallel which those who had been accustomed
to living on board ship will readily appreciate, as pleasant to the
taste as fresh bread, or "soft tack," when one has been eating nothing
but hard sea biscuits for some time previously.
To Ernest Wilton, also, it was a matter of gratification to be able to
speak freely with a fellow-countrymen, after his recent companionship
with half-breeds and Indians; and he was nothing loth to accept the
other's overtures towards a friendly chat, to pave the way for future
intimacy, such as he saw would probably result between them, should they
remain long together, a possibility which recent events clearly
prognosticated and which he cordially welcomed.
"Yes, it was a rough journey, with a vengeance," he replied, in answer
to the implied question in Mr Rawlings' remark, "such a journey as I
certainly never anticipated; and my only wonder is, how I accomplished
it. But then, you know, over here in the New World--and it is new to
me, every inch of it, the more I see of it--they don't measure distances
the same as people do in Europe. Why, a degree of latitude or longitude
is less thought of than a furlong by those at home; and, in some of the
backwood settlements, neighbours are as far-away from each other as the
capital cities of the continent are separated."
"That is true," said Mr Rawlings. "The space appears so illimitable
that one's ideas as to measurement expand in a similar way, and the
agriculturists calculate by the square mile instead of the acre in all
their estimates of the land. But, about your journey? I'm curious to
know what route you took to come from Oregon here."
"You may well ask," replied the young engineer, breaking into a hearty
laugh, which was so catching, that Mr Rawlings followed suit, and even
Seth thought it incumbent on him to look back over his shoulder and
grin, "for it was, I believe, the most roundabout trip ever planned.
But, in order to understand it properly, you must learn what sort of a
party accompanied me. While in California, I got mixed up with all
sorts of persons, engaged in companies started to carry out everything
under the sun, and even under the earth: scientific men with hobbies,
capitalists with money to spend, and speculators with nothing, who
wished to enrich themselves from the pockets of the unwary; and, while
at a dinner one day in Sacramento, where a lot of directors and
shareholders of the Alba Eldorado were enlarging on the good fortune
attending mining schemes in general, and their own especial venture in
particular, a proposal was made that, as such fabulous reports had been
circulated of the Bonanza mine in Montana, some of the surplus capital
of the company should be expended in looking after another lode in the
same vicinity. The proposal was eagerly accepted, and as I happened to
be present I was asked to join the expedition."
"But that was in California," suggested Mr Rawlings, smiling, "and you
needn't have gone through all Oregon to get to Montana, surely--eh?"
"Certainly not," said Ernest Wilton; "and that's exactly what I wish to
explain. It was all those scientific men with their hobbies that led us
such a dance! You see, it was a party of rich people, whose time was at
their own disposal, and they could do pretty nearly as they liked. At
the very first start, it was arranged that our first point of
destination should be the Warm Springs in the centre of Oregon; and so
to the Warm Springs we went. I believe the principal capitalist of the
party thought they might be utilised for the purposes of a Universal
Bath Company, Limited, to `ablutionise'--that was his word, I assure
you--the whole world."
"Nonsense, you are joking!" said Mr Rawlings, thinking the other was
trying to chaff him.
"Not a bit of it--`that's a fact,' as our American friend there would
say," replied the young Englishman, nodding in the direction of Seth
Allport to show that he had already noticed his pronunciation and mode
of speech.
"All right," said Mr Rawlings. "I can credit your financier coining
the new word ablutionise; but I can't exactly stomach the `Universal
Bath Company' quite! I am an old soldier, however; so proceed, and I
promise not to be very much surprised at any of your traveller's tales!"
"Really, I am not exaggerating at all," said Ernest Wilton. "That
ignorant purse-proud fellow wished to start a company for almost
everything we came across in our route. I need not add that he wasn't
an American."
"No, it's only Englishmen that make themselves such fools over here,"
replied Mr Rawlings, heaving a sigh, as if he thought himself one of
the number for having anything to do with the Minturne Creek venture.
"If they have any bad points at home, they get them more developed by
the passage across the ocean. What is the old Latin adage we used to
learn at school--eh?"
"`Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt,'" quoted the young
engineer. "`Those who travel abroad may change their scene of action,
but can't alter their own minds.'"
"Yes, that's it," replied Mr Rawlings. "But go on with your journey."
"Well," continued the other, "when we had done the Warm Springs, one of
the scientific gentlemen, who wanted to make soap cheap, I presume,
suggested that the exploring party should proceed to the celebrated
Alkali Desert in Idaho, which I daresay you've heard of?"
"I have," answered Mr Rawlings. "It's to the south of the Snake River,
just below Boise City and the Salmon River Mountains. My poor cousin
Ned was there a year or two prospecting, he told me."
"Indeed!" said the young engineer. "Then I've no doubt you liked the
place as little as I did. And as for those Snake Indians, they're the
worst lot I ever came across yet."
"They are so," said Mr Rawlings. "Born thieves, every one--at least, I
have got Ned's word for it."
"I was grateful to them for one thing, however," said Ernest Wilton,
laughing again at the recollection. "They so disgusted our great
English company-starting capitalist that he would come no further with
us; and we were well rid of his bumptious airs and vulgarity for the
rest of the journey."
"I suppose you then came in a bee-line through Wyoming?" said Mr
Rawlings.
"Oh dear, no," answered the engineer. "We were doomed to execute a
series of right-angled triangles all through our erratic course. From
the Alkali Desert--or rather, Three Forks Camp, which was our
halting-place--we made for the Rocky Mountains, so as to reach the
Yellowstone River on this side. And that was where we had such a
terrible time of it."
"I expect so," said Mr Rawlings; "the Rocky Mountains are no joke in
winter time, for they are not easy by any means even in summer."
"We lost a lot of animals and nearly all our baggage," continued Ernest
Wilton; "so when we got to Virginia City, on the Yellowstone, the
majority of our party stopped there. I would have stopped too, I must
confess, but a very energetic scientific gentleman suggested our pushing
on, to explore some oil wells that were reported to be situated to the
south of the Big Horn range."
"I know that place well," said Mr Rawlings eagerly. "The petroleum
springs are by Poison Spring Creek, as the Indians call it."
"Do they?" said Ernest Wilton. "We couldn't see any creek at all; and
even the scientific gentleman got tired out, and went back to Virginia
City to join the others, and recruit, before investigating the mining
districts of Montana. I was so sick of the lot, however, that I
determined to push on to Bismark, and strike the line of the Northern
Pacific, waiting till the spring came before I undertook any further
exploring work."
"And that's how you came to us?" said Mr Rawlings.
"Yes. Two of us started to cross the Black Hills from Wyoming, along
with the Indians who engaged to guide us. According to the map I had
with me, our route would have been to strike the north fork of the
Cheyenne River, and follow it up till it emptied itself into the
Missouri, when we could have pursued the left bank of the latter due
north, until it took us right into the town of Bismark, which is, I
believe, the terminus of the railway."
"Bless you! why it runs more than 100 miles farther west already," said
Mr Rawlings; "and if you wish still to communicate with your friends,
who, I can perceive from your story, there is every reason for you to be
pained at your separation from, why, you'll be able to join them in
Virginia City itself, in a short trip by the cars from Bismark."
"Thanks," said Ernest Wilton, appreciating the other's sly allusion to
those dear companions of his with whom he had so little in keeping. "As
I will be within easy reach of them in case of need, I shall be all the
better pleased to remain with you, as then I'll have two strings to my
bow! But, to finish my narrative:--the weather was so bad after we left
the supposed site of the oil wells, that we could make no headway at
all; and on our arriving at Fort Phil Kearney, which, to our
mortification, was deserted, my solitary white companion, who had
accompanied me faithfully so far, turned tail with two of the remaining
Indians--of the Crow tribe, of course, rascally fellows, just like the
birds from whom they are named!"
"You like those chaps," said Mr Rawlings with a smile, "dearly, eh?"
"I do `muchly,' as Artemus Ward says," responded Ernest. "I should like
to pay them out! But to make a long story short, with the remaining two
Indian guides--who only came with me after I promised them a small
fortune on my reaching a settlement--I managed to lose my way utterly;
and then having lost the guides also, I wandered about hungry and cold
until I met your hunters amongst the mountains, when all my troubles
were ended."
"Thank goodness they met you!" said Mr Rawlings cordially. "But those
Indians must have deserted," he continued musingly. "They are much too
knowing to have lost their way."
"Yes, I know it," said Ernest Wilton. "They were afraid of encountering
any of the Sioux, who are near you, I think."
"Yes, too close to be pleasant," said Mr Rawlings. "But we have not
had any trouble with them yet."
"And I hope you won't at all," responded the other with much heartiness.
"Those Crow Indians with me were continually talking about Red Cloud
and Spotted Tail. I think those were the names of the chiefs they
mentioned."
"Yes," replied Mr Rawlings, "both have Indian reservations in Dakota."
"Is that so? I thought that might be only their yarring when they said
so; but they mentioned those two chiefs in particular, I remember now,
and asserted that they intended `digging up the hatchet,' as they termed
it in their euphonious language, as soon as the spring came round!
However, I wouldn't place much credence in their statement, I assure
you. Those Crows are such curs that they would say anything rather than
venture `within measurable distance,' as the phrase goes, of a possible
enemy." And Ernest Wilton laughed.
"I have heard some similar rumours myself," said Mr Rawlings more
gravely. "The last scout that came here from the township, just before
the winter set in regularly, brought word that the Sioux were preparing
for the war-path, or something to that effect; and, as the red men
themselves say, there is never much smoke without fire. I hope to
goodness, though, that it is only rumour! An Indian war is a terrible
thing, my boy. I've seen the effects of one, years since, and never
forgotten it,"--and Mr Rawlings laid his hand on Ernest Wilton's
shoulder, as if to impress his words more strongly. "It wouldn't be
pleasant for us here were another to break out now, and we so far from
the settlements."
"Isn't there a military station near this of the United States troops?"
asked the young engineer.
"About a hundred miles off, or so," replied Mr Rawlings.
"Oh, that's pretty close for the backwoods!" said Ernest Wilton lightly,
as he quickened his steps to join Seth Allport, who had hailed out to
the two stragglers to "hurry up," for the "lazy lubbers" that they were;
the ex-mate of the _Susan Jane_ having awaited with some considerable
impatience, for a rather unconscionable length of time, the end of the
interview between the two Englishmen, although he was too good-hearted,
and had too much good taste, to interrupt them before he saw that their
chat was finished.
STORY ONE, CHAPTER TWELVE.
"LOVE'S LABOUR LOST."
"Now, mister," said Seth Allport, when the young engineer closed-up to
his side, "I guess you've seed our location, and you've seed
ourselves:--now, see the mine afore you. What d'ye think of it, hey?"
The "location" looked as favourable a one for mining purposes as it was
charming to the eye; but appearances are not everything to those who
toil beneath the surface of the earth, and so Ernest Wilton well knew.
"What strata have you passed through?" asked he of Seth.
"I s'pose yer mean the sile, don't yer?" said Seth Allport.
The young engineer nodded an affirmative reply.
"Black mould--gravel--sand and clay--black sand by itself--and then
quartz reef," replied Seth, laconically, repeating the words as if he
were saying a lesson he had learnt from a book.
"And what have you got to now?" continued Ernest Wilton, pursuing his
inquiry.
"Water," said Seth Allport in the same laconic way.
Ernest Wilton's face fell, albeit he had previously felt inclined to
smile at the ex-mate's queer manner and abrupt speech.
Water! It was the cruellest, most persistent enemy with whom the miner
has to deal. Foul air and gas can be got rid of, but water, proceeding
from invisible springs, ever welling up, and the more the quantity
pumped up the greater the yield from the inexhaustible fountains of the
earth, was an opponent that could not be conquered, an enemy of the most
potent powers for ill indeed--a very vampire that sucked the blood of
energy.
Delving down, day after day, with superhuman exertions, through the
various strata, they had met with no sight as yet of that rich vein of
gold which they confidently hoped to encounter, although there were
occasional traces of an auriferous deposit here and there to encourage
them on, their hopes and hearts had never failed them until now. No
wonder that Ernest Wilton's arrival was hailed as an omen of good luck;
and that he was regarded by all as having arrived "just in the nick of
time" to extricate them from their difficulty!
"How long is it since you met with water?" asked the young engineer,
before he descended the shaft in order to inspect the works personally
below.
Mr Rawlings answered this time, while Seth Allport and Noah Webster
confirmed his statements by their looks, which were expressive enough!
"That is a question that none of us can reply to satisfactorily."
Ernest Wilton was surprised. He thought he had made one of the simplest
inquiries possible; and he looked his astonishment at the answer given
him before he said anything more. The idea of a practical man, as he
regarded Mr Rawlings, speaking so!
"How is that?" said he, after a pause. "I should think you would have
no trouble in telling me?"--and he looked from Mr Rawlings to Seth
Allport with some curiosity.
"Some things that appear simple enough," said Mr Rawlings somewhat
pragmatically, "are more difficult to answer, my clear fellow, than most
people would think; and you ought to know that from your engineering
experience!"
"Certainly," replied the other; "but here's a mine with men working in
it from day to day, and digging through each separate stratum in turn,
and knowing at the close of each day the result of that day's labour.
Surely, one would think that the day on which they struck water they
would not forget it?"
"Granted, my dear fellow," answered Mr Rawlings, who dearly loved a bit
of argument when he could come across a foeman worthy of his steel. "I
accede in toto to your premises; but your deduction is somewhat a little
too rapid, for there are other circumstances to be considered which I
have not yet brought to your notice, and which, I have no doubt, will
alter your decision."
"By Jove!" said Ernest Wilton, with a laugh, "I must treat it as a
conundrum, and give it up. I am certain that I cannot solve it."