TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
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THE BOY MINERS;
OR,
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND
A TALE OF THE YELLOWSTONE COUNTRY.
BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.
NEW YORK
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
BEADLE AND ADAMS,
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. “THERE THEY COME!”
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
THE BOY MINERS;
OR,
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND.
CHAPTER I.
“THERE THEY COME!”
Young Edwin Inwood leaped down from the small tree in which he had
been perched for the last half hour, and ran swiftly toward the brook
where his elder brother, George, and a large negro named Jim Tubbs,
were waiting, ever and anon raising their heads, and looking towards
the boy who was acting as sentinel, several hundred yards away, as if
they were expecting some such an alarm as this.
“Quick! they’ll soon be here!” he added in his terrible excitement.
“How many are there?” inquired George, catching up his shovel at the
same time with his rifle.
“I shouldn’t wonder if there were twenty. I’m sure I saw a dozen, any
way.”
“More likely dar’s a tousand!” angrily exclaimed Jim, gathering his
implements together, preparatory to making a move. “Dis yer’s a
nonsince--jest as we gits in among de gold, dem Injins has to ’gin
dar tricks.”
“Hurry, Jim,” admonished the young man, beginning to grow nervous.
“It won’t do to be caught here.”
“Dey hain’t cotched dis pusson yit, an’ if dey undertooks it,
somebody’ll git hurt. I can swing dat pick kind o’ loose when I
makes up my mind to do so. I’s ready--now whar does ye pitch to?”
“Into the cane, of course.”
George Inwood, loaded down with his gun and implements, hurried up
the channel of the brook, for several hundred feet, and then, making
a sudden plunge to the right, disappeared as abruptly as if the earth
had opened and swallowed him. The next moment, his brother Edwin, a
lad some fifteen years of age--whisked after him, and then Jim came
lumbering along, somewhat after the manner of an ox, when goaded off
his usual plodding walk.
“Dis yer’s graceful!” he muttered, not deigning to look behind him to
see whether the envious aborigines were visible, “I never did like to
trot, s’pecially when an Ingin was drivin’ me, an’ only does it to
please de boys.”
“Come, Jim, move faster!” called the voice of George Inwood from some
subterranean point.
“Yas, yas, I’s dar!”----
Further exclamation was cut short, for at this instant the indignant
African was seized by the ankle with such force, that he fell
prostrate upon his back, and, despite his struggles and threats of
dire punishment, was quickly drawn out of sight and hearing.
This was scarcely done, when a dozen Mohave Indians swarmed over
the ridge of rocks and trees which bounded the northern part of the
stream, and scattered here and there in quest of the gold hunters,
whom they had been watching from a distance nearly all the afternoon.
Each of them was armed with a gun, several displayed tomahawks and
knives at their girdles, while the majority had large, beautifully
woven and ornamented blankets thrown over their shoulders.
Running hither and thither, their sharp black eyes darting in every
direction, they could not be long without discovering traces of the
interlopers. A sort of halloo, something like the yelp of a large
dog, when a cow flings him over the fence, told that one of the dusky
scamps were on the trail. Immediately the whole pack darted up the
channel, and the next moment, had halted before the mouth of a cave,
the entrance being of sufficient width to admit the passage of an
ordinary sized man; but just now a large boulder prevented their
ingress.
Certain that the gold hunters were immured here, and were within
their power, the Mohaves indulged in a hop, skip, and dance around
the cave, flinging their arms aloft, and shouting continually in
their wild, outlandish tongue. When their clamor had somewhat
subsided, a gruff voice from within the cave was heard.
“Hullo! dar I say! Hullo! I say! Can’t yese keep yer clacks still a
minnit when a gemman wishes to speak?”
The singular source and sound of the human voice had the desired
effect, and instant silence fell upon all.
“Am dar any ob yous dat spoke English? If dar am, please to signify
it by sayin’ so, an’ if dar ain’t, also signify dat by obsarvin’ de
same sign.”
Jim waited several minutes for a reply, but, receiving none, he
became more indignant, and was about to burst out in a tirade
against them, when George Inwood ventured to suggest that, as in all
probability they could not speak the English language, as a matter of
course, they were deprived of the ability of saying so.
“But dey orter to know ’nough to say _no_--any fool know _dat_,”
persisted the African.
“But how can they understand what _you_ say?”
“Clar--didn’t tink ob dat. What am we to do?”
“Defend ourselves--that is all that is left us.”
“I’ll go take a look at dem,” said Jim, beginning to creep along the
passage toward the mouth of the cave.
“I insist that you be more careful in your dealings with them. You
ought to know what a treacherous and untrustworthy set of people they
are.”
Jim promised caution, as he always did in such matters, and Inwood
kept close to him to see that he fulfilled his pledge. Reaching
the mouth of the cave, the African gave a sneeze to proclaim his
presence, emitted with such explosive vigor, that the Mohaves
gathered around, startled as though the ground beneath them had
suddenly reddened with heat. They recoiled a few steps, and then
waited with some anxiety for the next demonstration.
Jim Tubbs had a voice, composed half-in-half of those tones which
are heard when a huge saw is being filed, and that which is made by
the rumbling of the distant thunder. The judicious mixture made from
these, it may safely be said, was terrific and rather trying to a
sensitive man’s nerves; and, as he was in rather an indignant mood
on the present occasion, when he called to the Mohaves, it was more
forcibly than politely.
“What does yer want?”
When a person has reason to believe that the one whom he is
addressing has difficulty in understanding his words, he seems to
think the trouble can be overcome by increasing the loudness of his
tone. Jim repeated his question each time with greater force, until
the last demand partook more of the nature of a screech than anything
else.
By this time, the aborigines had obtained a good view of the black
face, cautiously presenting itself at the opening made by the partial
withdrawing of the stone, and one of them, laying down his gun and
knife, as an earnest of his pacific intention, deliberately advanced
to the entrance of the cave, and reached out his hand.
“Take it, Jim,” whispered Inwood, “he means that as an offering of
good will.”
“I hope yer am well,” remarked Jim, as he thrust his immense digits
through the opening. “I is purty well, an’ so am all ob us--gorry
nation! what am yer at?”
The Mohave had suddenly seized the hand of the negro in both his own
with tremendous force, and was now pulling with such astonishing
power as slowly to drag the unsuspicious African forward.
“I tell ye let go!” shouted the latter, “it won’t do! Wal, if ye
wants to pull wid dis chile, why pull, an’ see who am de best feller!”
Inwood, in his apprehension for the safety of the negro, seized his
leg, and endeavored with his utmost strength to stay his forcible
departure, observing which, the gentleman in dispute turned his head:
“Nebber mind, George, nebber mind if dem darkeys
[Transcriber’s Note: Several lines of text are missing from the
original here due to a printer’s error]
Jim was six feet three inches in height, and along his limbs was
deposited an enormous quantity of muscle almost as hard as the bone
itself; he was not quick, but he was a man of prodigious strength,
and when he chose to exert it, there were few living men who could
withstand it. If there could ever be a suitable occasion to exert it,
that occasion was the present.
And Jim did call it into play. Closing his great fingers around the
hand of the Mohave, he held it as firmly as if it were thrust into
the jaws of a Numidian lion, and then bracing his feet against the
sides of the cavern, he said:
“Now, my ’spectable friend, you pull an’ I’ll pull.”
At the first contraction of that muscular arm, the Mohave was drawn a
foot forward; and, in dreadful alarm, he uttered a cry which brought
several of his companions to his relief, and they, seizing him by his
lower limbs, pulled as determinedly in the opposite direction.
“If yer gets dis feller back agin, I tinks he’ll be about a foot
taller,” muttered Jim, as he gave another hitch with the hapless
aborigine, which jerked not only him forward, but those who were
clinging fast to his extremities. They, in turn, united in a “long
pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether,” with no effect, except
to give the subject under debate a terrific strain.
“Yeave ho! here ye go!”
And with amazing power, Jim Tubbs drew the Mohave clear into the
cave, beyond all reach from his companions.