SOME EXCITING MOMENTS
Exactly at three o'clock, by Mr. Conroyal's big silver watch, the last shovel of dirt and the last stone was thrown on the dam; and, with cheers that echoed and reëchoed up and down the narrow gulch, our friends saw all the water of the little stream flowing into its new channel.
"Now get your pans and pails, and we'll hustle the water out of the hole, so that we can get at the dirt," Mr. Conroyal cried excitedly, the moment it was seen that the dam was working perfectly and that the old bed of the stream below the dam was fast becoming dry.
With another cheer, each grabbed up a pan or a pail, and all made a rush for the hole in the elbow of the now nearly drained bed of the stream, acting more like an excited troop of school boys than gray-haired and long-bearded men, as some of them were.
The old bed of the stream was solid rock, worn smooth by the action of the water; and, as Thure and Bud, in their anxiety to be the first to reach the hole, raced down this, Thure's feet suddenly slipped on the wet rock and down he went, the gold-pan he was carrying flying from his hands and banging loudly as it slid for a short distance over the hard rock. He jumped quickly to his feet, fortunately unhurt, and bent hastily to pick up the pan. As he lifted the pan, which had been stopped by a bit of rock that projected a couple of inches above the level of the bed, his eyes caught a bright gleam that came from the upper side of the projecting rock.
For an instant Thure stared wildly at the shining bit of metal lodged against the rock; and then, with a yell that brought everybody to a halt, he dropped the pan and grabbed the bit of metal.
"Gold! Gold!" he shouted excitedly, as he held up between the thumb and finger of his right hand the bit of metal he had picked up, which was about the size and something the shape of his thumb.
In a moment all were crowded around him, eagerly examining the nugget.
"It certainly is gold!" declared Marshall, as he hefted the nugget on the palm of his hand.
"Hurra, that's a durned good sign that that thar hole is chuck full of it!" cried Ham, excitedly swinging the gold-pan he held in his hand around his head. "Come on! Let's git that water out of th' way an' down tew pay-dirt, jest as quick as th' Lord'll let us," and he started on the run for the hole, followed by all the others.
The hole in the point of the elbow of the old channel of the stream was about twenty feet across; and now, of course, was level full of water, which had to be thrown out before any digging could be done.
Ham, who had a long pair of rubber boots, bought on purpose for this occasion, now slipped them on his feet, pulled the legs up to his waist, where he fastened them to his belt, seized one of the pails, and stepped into the hole. At the first step he went down to the knee, at the second, nearly to the tops of his rubber boots, but the third step lowered him in the water only a couple of inches.
"Gosh, 'tain't deep! We can have th' water out of here in no time. Now, jest git in line an' I'll pass th' water out tew you," and he plunged the pail down into the water, and quickly passed it to the man standing the nearest to him, who passed it on down a line that had been quickly formed until the last man was far enough down for the water, when thrown on the ground, to run off down the old channel.
There were enough pans and pails to keep a constant stream of them passing up and down the line; and, as everybody, under the spur of the thought of what might lie hidden there in that hole, worked with feverish haste, the water was speedily lowered, until after an hour of as hard and tiresome work as was ever done by men, the bottom of the hole was laid bare.
"We'll dig a hole first off right in th' center of th' hole plumb down to bed-rock," declared Ham, as he passed out the last pailful of water. "Then, if thar's any gold here, we'll strike it shore. Throw me a shovel!" Ham's face was flushed and his eyes were sparkling with excitement; for now the great moment was near, the moment that would tell whether or not all their labor had been in vain, whether or not they were to find the expected gold.
"Here! Here!" and Thure caught up a shovel and rushed to Ham; and almost collided with Bud, who, shovel in hand, was also rushing to Ham.
"Let us help you dig! Let us help you dig!" cried both boys, almost beside themselves with excitement.
"Now, jest hold y'ur hosses an' git out of here. This is men's work," and Ham good-naturedly thrust the two boys aside, caught up a shovel, and began throwing up the moist sand and gravel like an animated steam shovel.
The hole was partly filled with coarse sand and gravel; and, since gold is so heavy that it will sink down through sand and gravel until it comes to something more solid, all this had to be thrown off before they could hope to come to pay-dirt, which is usually a thin layer of gravel or clay lying on top of the bed-rock. Ham was now digging down to this bed-rock; and, when he reached it, he would throw a few shovels of the dirt directly on its top into a gold-pan, and then a few minutes' washing of the dirt in the pan would show whether or not they had struck gold. The hole he was digging was not large enough for more than one man to work in it at a time, consequently the others formed a circle around Ham and watched his progress with faces feverish with excitement, any one of them ready the moment Ham tired to seize a shovel and jump into the hole in his place. But the shoveling was not hard and the sturdy muscles of Ham did not tire.
In the excitement of these thrilling minutes nobody saw anything but Ham, nobody heard anything but the push of his shovel through the moist gravel and the thud of the dirt as it fell on top of the ground. It is doubtful if a cannon fired within a rod of them, would have made one of them jump. Hence it is not to be wondered at that none of them saw the black clouds gathering about the tops of the mountains to the northeast and swiftly sweeping down toward them, nor heard the peals of distant thunder, sounding louder and nearer with the passing of each minute. The gold-fever was hot in their blood; and they were deaf and blind to all but the digging man.
Ham's shovel bit swiftly down into the soft, moist sand. Now he is down to his waist. Now only his shoulders show above the top of the hole. Suddenly, with a violent grunt, he straightens up.
"Bed-rock!" he yells, and begins digging again.
The excitement is now intense. Nearly every one has a gold-pan in his hand, and is holding it out toward Ham, ready to receive the first shovel of pay-dirt. That first shovel of dirt means so much, possibly a fortune for all! Even the graybeards, Mr. Conroyal and Rad Randolph and Frank Holt, men who could, who often had faced death without the quiver of a muscle, are now all of a tremble with excitement. Thure and Bud are both bending forward so far that there is danger of their tumbling into the hole on top of Ham.
For a couple of minutes longer Ham shovels out the dirt, but more slowly and carefully now.
"Give me a pan," and he suddenly straightens up, seizes one of the pans, and disappears in the hole. A moment later he jumps out of the hole, the pan nearly filled with dirt in his hands, and races like a mad man with it to the little stream of water, followed by all the others.
In the excitement of the moment no one notices how dark it is becoming, nor hears an ominous sound, a distant roar, each second growing louder, and coming from far up the gulch.
Ham reaches the water, and, plunging the pan down into it, begins carefully stirring its contents with his big fingers. Around him bend the others, regardless of wet feet. In a few minutes the larger part of the sand and the gravel is washed out of the pan by the water. Now only a thin layer of black sand remains on the bottom of the pan. The crucial instant has come. Ham slowly straightens up, carefully pours all the water out of the pan, bends his head down close over it, and begins moving the thin layer of black sand about with his fingers.
"Is there, is there any gold?" queries Thure, unable longer to keep silent.
Ham does not answer for a moment, but continues to stir the sand with his big fingers, bending his head still closer to the pan.
"Not a durned smell!" and he suddenly hurls the pan violently from him.
At this moment Mr. Conroyal utters a startled exclamation and glances quickly up the gulch. One look is sufficient to turn his face white. From where he stands he can see straight up the gulch for nearly half a mile; and half that distance up the gulch he sees a dark gray wall, ten feet high, topped with white, rushing down toward him with the speed of a race horse, and hears a roar like the rushing charge of a thousand cavalrymen.
"My God, a flood!" he yells. "Climb for your lives!"
There was no need of a second warning. All could now see the advancing flood, could hear the deafening roar, could feel the solid earth beginning to tremble beneath their feet; and all began to climb for their lives up the steep side of the gulch. There was no time to stop to pick up anything. Pans, shovels, picks, and such parts of their clothes as happened to be off their bodies they left where they lay.
Thure and Bud happened to be climbing almost directly under Marshall. Suddenly, before they were above the danger line and when the flood was almost upon them, Marshall's feet slipped and he slid past the boys down directly in front of the advancing flood. It looked like death to stop to help him; but neither boy hesitated an instant.
"Here, grip wrists!" yelled Thure, who was a little above Bud. "I will hold you while you pull Marshall up."
Bud instantly saw what was wanted; and, in another moment the two arms of the boys were locked together in a grip almost impossible to break.
"Now reach down and try and get hold of one of Marshall's hands. Quick!" and Thure gripped, with the strength of desperation, the point of a projecting rock with his free left hand and planted his feet firmly on the narrow ledge where he stood.
"Here, catch hold of my hand, quick," and Bud bent and stretched his free hand down to Marshall, who, with a face as white as death, was vainly struggling to climb up the almost perpendicular side of the rock down which he had slid.
