PEDRO
The next morning all our friends were up an hour before sunrise; for the Never-Give-Up California Mining Company had much to do that morning, if they started on the hunt for the Cave of Gold that day, as they hoped to do. The horses had to be brought from the little valley five miles away, where they had been turned out to pasture, needed supplies of food and clothing and tools had to be procured at the stores of Hangtown, and everything had to be made ready for the rough journey through the wilderness of mountains and forests to the northeast. But nine men and one woman can accomplish much in a few hours; and by noon everything was in readiness for the start, and the horses stood saddled and bridled and packed, ready for the journey, before the door of the log house, while our friends gathered around the rough table inside for their last meal in the house that had sheltered them for so long.
"Seems almost like leaving home," declared Mr. Conroyal, as his eyes glanced slowly around the familiar room.
"It shore does," agreed Ham. "We've had some mighty good times in the old house; an' I hopes th' fellers who move in when we're out, will be sort of gentle tew things. Somehow it seems a leetle cruel tew desert them tew friendly old rockers thar, that have so often given ease an' comfort tew our tired bodies, not knowin' what sort of critters will next sot down in 'em," and his eyes rested on the two barrel-rockers. "They seem tew be a lookin' at me right now, sort of forlorn an' reproachful-like," and a smile lighted his face at the whimsical thought. "Wal, that kind of philosophizin' won't dig no gold. Now, dew you reckon them skunks are on th' watch an' will try tew foller us?" and the smile left his face.
"Yes," answered Mr. Conroyal. "They have probably been watching us all the morning. When Frank and I started out as soon as it was light enough to see to try and trace the string and maybe get onto the trail of the scoundrels, we both feel certain that we were watched and that somebody was warned of our coming, because, before we'd gone a dozen rods, we heard a coyotelike bark, coming from way up the mountain-side and ending in a howl that we are sure never came from a coyote's throat; and, when we got to the clump of trees, we found signs of someone having been there only a few minutes before, and followed the trail to a rocky gulch a dozen rods beyond the trees, where we lost the trail on the hard rocks. Yes, they sure will try to follow us; for now, I fancy, their plan is, since they can't get hold of the map, to let us find the gold and then to try and get it away from us. At least that is the way Frank and I figure it out; and we've got to give them the slip somehow somewhere between here and Lot's Canyon, or fight for the gold. Quinley and Ugger have probably gathered together a band of cut-throats, and figure on being able to get the gold away from us after we have found it."
"And we calculate," continued Frank Holt, "that the best way to try and give them the slip will be to go into camp early to-night; and then about midnight to suddenly and quietly break camp and steal away under cover of the darkness, hoping to get away without their knowing it."
"I reckon they're tew cute tew be fooled that easy," and Ham shook his head.
"And so do we," grinned back Holt. "But we calculate that it will make them think that we think that we have fooled them, and so they won't consider it necessary to keep so close watch on us, and we can try to make our real getaway the next night or the night after."
"That sounds more like it," and Ham grinned his approval. "Wal, since we all 'pear tew be through eatin', let's git a-goin'," and he jumped up from the table and hurried out doors, nearly stumbling over a thin, sallow-faced, middle-aged Mexican, who stood near the door apparently waiting for someone to come out.
"Hello, Pedro! What you doin' here?" and Ham scowled down on the little Mexican, whom he had often seen working about Coleman's store. "Coleman send you for something?"
"No, señor," answered the Mexican. "Coleman kick me this morning; and now I no longer work for Coleman. I now would cook and keep camp for señors," and he bowed, with a flourish of both his thin arms. "Get wood, make fire, cook, carry water, clean dish, all I do for señors. I very good cook. Coleman say I make best flapjacks in Hangtown. All I do for señors for one ounce gold-dust a week. Si, señors?" and his bright black eyes flashed questioningly around the circle of faces that, by this time, had gathered around him.
"But, see, our hosses are packed. We're 'bout tew break camp," and Ham pointed to the horses.
"Si, señor," answered Pedro, smiling. "I know how pack horse, so pack no slip under belly. I go where señors go. I do good work, kind, faithful, honest," and again he smiled, until his teeth showed like two rows of yellow ivory in his mouth.
"Now," and Ham turned questioningly to the others. "I wonder if 'twouldn't be a good thing tew take Pedro 'long? He could help a lot 'bout hoss-packin' an' cookin' an' things, an' could dew all th' dirty heavy work for th' Leetle Woman."
"Reckon you're right, Ham," declared Mr. Conroyal. "Shall we take the Mexican on his own terms?" and he glanced inquiringly around.
"Yes, and a good bargain I call it," assented Mr. Randolph. "Pedro couldn't have staid as long as he did with Coleman, if he hadn't been a pretty decent sort of a Mexican; and he can help a lot about camp."
And thus it came about that Pedro, the Mexican, entered the service of our friends, without a thought of suspicion that he might be other than what he seemed coming into the head of one of them. If they had not seen him so often working about Coleman's store and felt sure that he was only an ignorant Mexican menial, they probably would have been a little more cautious about taking him with them on such a venture as they were about to undertake.
Mrs. Dickson was given one of the horses to ride, although she protested that she was just as able to walk as anybody; but the other five horses were all loaded with the packs containing the supplies for the journey and the mining tools, the men, of course, all walking. The five pack-horses were placed in charge of Pedro and brought up the rear of the little column of men that now marched slowly over the hill that flanked Hangtown and off toward the unknown wilderness of mountains and forests to the northeast, Ham and Dickson and Mr. Conroyal in the lead.
For the first two or three days' march, or until they had passed beyond the region where the miners were at work, their way would be plain. They had only to follow the trail of the miners to Humbug Canyon, the last known place marked down on the skin map. But from Humbug Canyon on there would be no trail to follow and they would be obliged to trust to the guidance of Mr. Dickson and the skin map to bring them into Lot's Canyon. After that they would have to depend entirely on the map and their own skill to discover the hidden opening into Crooked Arm Gulch.
Naturally Thure and Bud were in high spirits, now that they were actually on their way to the marvelous Cave of Gold; and, boylike, they allowed no thoughts of the threatening perils from Ugger and Quinley and their band of cut-throats to trouble their minds or to distract their attention from the wonderful scenes constantly unfolding before them, as they advanced along the trail leading to Humbug Canyon, where something interesting or beautiful or both met their eyes each moment, no matter in what direction they looked. Now it was some wonderful formation of nature—great masses of rocks towering thousands of feet above their heads, picturesque little mountain-surrounded valleys, deep canyons and gulches and ravines and chasms, beautiful cascades of water plunging over precipitous cliffs to fall in a stream of sparkling jewels on the rocks at their base, or great forests of columnlike trees, or winding, murmuring, plunging, seething, turbulent little streams of water rushing furiously toward some far-off valley, and like marvels and beauties of nature. Again, in entering some little valley or ravine, they would come suddenly upon a picturesque little company of miners hard at work with picks and shovels and pans and cradles, searching for the elusive yellow grains of gold. Indeed, during that first afternoon, they found the miners everywhere, in the valleys, in the gulches and the ravines, along the streams, wherever there seemed the least prospect of finding gold, there these wild knights of the pick and the shovel were sure to be found; and, as they passed, the latest mining news would be shouted back and forth, enlivened with rude sallies of wit and merry well-wishes.
Sometimes they would pause for a few minutes to talk with the miners and to watch them at their work; and, on one of these occasions, Thure and Bud saw, for the first time, a couple of miners at work with a cradle, as this queer machine used to separate the gold from the dirt is called.
"I don't wonder it is called a cradle," Thure exclaimed, the moment he caught sight of the odd-looking contrivance. "Why, if it wasn't for that hopper on the upper end and the man shoveling dirt and pouring water into it, one would surely think that fellow was rocking his baby to sleep in its cradle. Can't we wait here a little while and watch them work it?" and Thure turned to his father. "The horses need a rest anyway."
"Going to clean up soon?" Mr. Conroyal called to the men.
"In about ten minutes," answered the shoveler. "And, I reckon, we can show some gold when we do. Won't you wait and see how it pans out?" he invited cordially.
"Oh, do, please!" cried both the boys.
"All right," assented Mr. Conroyal. "A rest won't hurt the horses, and I am sure the clean up will interest you boys."
"Bully! Come on. Let's get closer," and Thure started on the run for the spot where the two men were working.
The men had placed the cradle within a few feet of where they were digging up the pay-dirt, and near the cradle they had dug a small reservoir, which was kept constantly filled with water by means of a small trench dug from the little mountain stream a dozen rods away, so that they had both the water and the dirt handy, two very necessary things to make cradling successful, unless the pay-dirt is very rich. The machine itself, as Thure said, looked very much like a rudely made, baby's cradle. The body was about the same size and shape as the ordinary homemade box cradle seen in the homes of thousands in those days and underneath it were two similar rockers, but here the resemblance ended. One end of the cradle-box was a little higher than the other end, which was left open, so that the water loaded with the waste dirt could run out; and on the upper end stood a hopper, or riddle-box, as it was frequently called, about twenty inches square, with sides four inches high and a bottom made of sheet-iron, pierced with holes half an inch in diameter. Directly under the hopper, which was not nailed to the cradle-box, was an apron of wood, fastened to the sides of the cradle-box and sloping down from the lower end of the hopper to the upper end of the cradle-box. Two strips of wood, about an inch square, called riffle-bars, were nailed across the bottom of the cradle-box, one at the middle and the other near the lower end. An upright piece of wood, nailed to one side of the cradle-box, furnished a convenient handle for the man who did the rocking. Such, briefly described, was the make of the curious machine that had so aroused the interest of Thure and Bud.
"Ever see a cradle work before?" asked the man who was shoveling the dirt and pouring the water into the hopper, as Thure and Bud came running up, their eyes shining with interest.
"No," answered Thure. "It sure is a funny looking machine."
"It sure is," agreed the man. "But a fellow can clean two or three times as much dirt with it as he can with a pan and do it better. This is the philosophy of it," and he shoveled the pay-dirt into the hopper until it was a little over half filled, and then, picking up a long-handled dipper, began dipping water out of the reservoir and pouring it on the dirt in the hopper, while the other man constantly kept the cradle rocking back and forth. "You see," continued the man, "the motion and the water loosens and softens the dirt until all of it, except the larger stones, falls through the holes in the bottom of the hopper and runs down the apron to the upper end of the cradle and then down the bottom of the cradle and over the riffle-bars and out the lower end, leaving the gold and the heavier particles of sand and gravel behind the riffle-bars. But a fellow has to keep the cradle in constant motion, or the sand will pack and harden behind the riffle-bars and allow the gold to slide over it, instead of sinking down through it, as gold always will when sand or gravel is loose or in motion," as he spoke, he thrust his hand into the hopper and picked out a couple of stones too large to pass through the holes in the bottom of the hopper, and, after closely examining them to see that there was no gold clinging to their sides, threw them away.
"But, how do you get the gold out of the cradle?" queried Bud. "It seems to be mixed all up with a lot of heavy sand and gravel behind the riffle-bars."
"We will show you, just as soon as we wash out this hopper full of dirt," replied the man. "Ay, Hank?" and he turned to his companion, the rocker.
"I reckon it is about time to make a clean up, Dave," assented Hank, shifting the other hand to the cradle handle. "Anyhow both my arms are about plumb tired out."
After about ten minutes of this vigorous rocking all the dirt had been dissolved and nothing remained in the hopper except a number of stones, too large to fall through the holes in its bottom, which had been washed clean by the water and the shaking they had received.
"There, I calculate that will do the business," and the man addressed as Dave, dropped the dipper, with which he had been pouring the water into the hopper, while Hank stopped rocking the cradle and, rising to his feet, stretched up both arms over his head with a sigh of relief.
"Say, but this gold-digging is darned hard work," and he grinned down at the two boys.
"A darned sight harder than measuring cloth behind a counter," laughed Dave, as he lifted the hopper off the cradle and with a quick jerk threw the stones out of it and laid it down on the ground. "But a fellow gets something for his hard work—that is, he does if he is lucky," he added, as he picked up a large iron spoon from the ground near the cradle. "Now we'll see how the gold pans out," and bending over the cradle he began digging out the gravel and sand behind the riffle-bars with the spoon and throwing it into a gold-pan, which Hank held.
By this time all the company, except Pedro, who had been left in charge of the pack-horses, had gathered around the two men and were watching the cleaning up process with the greatest interest.
"'Bout how much dew you expect she'll pan out?" queried Ham, as Dave scraped out the last spoonful of sand and gravel and threw it into the pan.
"Somewhere between three and four ounces," answered Dave. "At least that is about what we usually clean out. How does she feel, Hank?" and he turned to his partner, who was running his fingers speculatively through the wet sand in the pan.
"I'll bet you an ounce of dust that there is a good five ounces of gold in this pan right now," declared the man, his eyes shining.
Before replying Dave took the pan and ran his fingers a few times through the sand.
"I'll go you. Wash her out," and he handed the pan back to Hank.
Hank now took the pan to the little stream of water, where the swift current would help in separating the gold from the sand; and in a few minutes his skilful hands had succeeded in washing out of the pan all the sand and gravel, except a thin layer of black sand, that was too heavy to wash out without danger of washing out the gold with it, which now could be seen sparkling here and there in the sand.
"Want to back out?" and Hank held the pan up in triumph in front of Dave's face.
"Sure not. There is not over four ounces there," answered Dave, after a moment's close examination of the sand. "Get out your magnet."
Hank now thrust one of his hands into his pocket and pulled out a large horseshoe magnet, the ends of which he at once began passing over the black sand in the bottom of the pan; and, since the black sand was nearly all iron, the magnet force caused it to cling to the horseshoe and in this ingenious manner the remaining sand was quickly drawn from the pan, leaving a thin, a very thin layer of gold-dust lying on its bottom.
Dave now produced a small balance from one of his pockets and the gold-dust was quickly gathered up and weighed.
"I win! Five ounces and a half!" shouted Hank triumphantly, at the same time giving Dave a resounding whack on his back with the flat of his hand. "That's the best clean up we've had since we started digging here. I reckon you boys brought us good luck," and he grinned joyously into the faces of Thure and Bud.
"Five an' a half ounces! That's a mighty good clean up," declared Ham, critically eyeing the little pile of gold-dust on the scale. "How often dew you clean up a day?"
"Usually about four times," answered one of the men. "But sometimes, when the shoveling is good, we get in another clean up or two by working a little late."
"Wal, tew hundred an' fifty or three hundred dollars' worth of gold a day is shore dewin' pretty well for tew men; an' I hopes y'ur good luck continues."
"No more measuring cloth behind a counter for me, if it does," laughed Dave. "You see Hank and I were both clerks in a drygoods store back East; but we will both be proprietors when we get back, if our good luck holds out only a few months longer," and the look on the faces of the two men told how much they were counting on that proprietorship.
"I am sure your good luck will continue," smiled Mr. Conroyal encouragingly. "But now we must be on our way," and he led the way back to where Pedro was waiting with the horses.
That night our friends made their camp in a little grove of trees that grew on the bank of a streamlet flowing through a small mountain valley, where there was an abundance of water, wood, and grass.
Pedro proved himself so great a success at unpacking the horses and attending to the rougher camp duties that all felt like congratulating themselves on having secured his service. He was willing and cleanly, two rather rare qualities in the Mexican camp menial, who was usually sullen in disposition and dirty in person and habits. He also proved to the satisfaction of all that his flapjacks deserved all the praises that Coleman had given them.
"He's a jewel," declared Mrs. Dickson enthusiastically. "And, if it wasn't for something snaky and creepy-crawly looking in his eyes, I had rather have his help than that of most women's. But I guess that queer look and the way he has of watching all of us comes from his being Mexican. Now," and she lowered her voice, "are you still planning to break camp sometime during the night and try to fool Ugger and his men, if they are trying to keep watch of us?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Conroyal. "The moon will be up about midnight; and, I reckon, that will be about the best time for us to try to make our getaway. So the sooner we all get to sleep the more rest we will get. Now, how about the guard?" and he turned inquiringly to the circle of men who had gathered around the camp-fire for a quiet little talk, after the supper had been eaten and all the camp duties had been attended to. "Do you think it necessary for us to post guards over the camp nights?"
"Sart'in," declared Ham. "Them skunks would be shore tew be up tew some devilment, like stealin' our hosses or something if we didn't; an' I don't calculate on lettin' 'em git th' start on us, if watchin' will prevent it. I'm for havin' a guard every night, until we git safe back tew civilerzation ag'in. Them's uncommon cunnin' scoundrels what's on our trail, an' we don't want tew take no chances with them."
"That's exactly the way I feel about it," agreed Mr. Conroyal. "Twould be foolish to run any needless chances. Rex, you will stand guard for the first two hours. Then you can awaken Dill, who will keep guard until it is time to arouse the camp, which will be just as soon as the moon rises, somewhere around midnight. Now everybody but Rex get into their blankets."
A small tent had been secured for the use of Mrs. Dickson, into which she now retired; but the men found "soft" spots of ground near the camp-fire, spread out their blankets on them, and, rolling themselves up in the blankets, lay down to as sound a sleep as ever blessed a man in the most comfortable of beds.
A little after midnight, just as the white disk of the moon rose above the tops of the mountains to the east, Dill quietly awoke his father; and then the two quietly, and cautioning all to make as little noise as possible, awoke the others.
Pedro, who had lain down near the horses, was at first inclined to be surly, when aroused from a sound sleep and told to pack the horses as quickly and as quietly as possible; but in a few minutes all his surliness had vanished and he was doing the work with a swift and skilful dexterity that showed long practice.
In half an hour the horses were packed and everything was ready to start.
"Now," and Mr. Conroyal lowered his voice almost to a whisper, "there must be no talking and everyone must move quietly, so as to make as little noise as possible, until we have put a couple of miles between us and the camp. I'll go on ahead and the others can follow in single file. Rex, you and Dill and Thure and Bud help Pedro with the horses. You had better lead them for awhile. We will leave the camp-fire burning. Everybody ready?"
"Yes"—"Yes," came in whispers.
"All right. Come on," and Mr. Conroyal, walking carefully so as to make as little noise as possible, moved off down the trail that showed faintly in the moonlight.
In the excitement of the moment no one saw Pedro bend quickly down to the ground, just before starting, and swiftly slip a piece of paper on which was written the two words, "Humbug Canyon," under a stone that lay near the camp-fire, and then, with a cunning gleam in his snaky black eyes straighten up and give all his attention to the horse he was to lead.
All now fell into line and followed close behind Mr. Conroyal, Thure and Bud and Rex and Dill and Pedro each leading one of the pack-horses.
For a mile the trail was over the soft grass-covered sod of the valley, which muffled the sounds made by their moving feet, so that they might have passed within half a dozen rods of a camp without a man in it dreaming that a little company of men and horses were passing, unless he chanced to see them. Then the trail again entered the defiles of the mountains, where the going was rough and difficult and sometimes dangerous, on account of their not being able to see clearly in the dim light of the moon; but Mr. Conroyal kept pressing steadily and silently onward, and as steadily and as silently all the others followed.
There was no talking, even after they had passed the danger zone. No one seemed to care to talk. There was something in the mystery of the night and the wilderness, in the white light of the moon falling on tree and rock and mountain and valley, in the silence of the vast surrounding forests and mighty piles of towering rocks that stilled the tongue.
For a couple of hours they journeyed steadily and silently on through the moonlit wilderness; and then Mr. Conroyal came to a halt in a narrow little valley.
"I reckon we've thrown the scoundrels off the trail by now, if we are going to to-night," he said; "and so we might as well go into camp again and rest up until sunrise; and as this looks like a good place we will go into camp right there under those trees," and he pointed toward a little grove of evergreen oaks that grew a few rods away.
All were tired and all were sleepy; and, consequently, all welcomed the decision to go into camp, and acted on it so promptly that, in fifteen minutes, all, except the guard, were rolled up in their blankets and soon were sound asleep.