THE SIGN OF THE TWO RED THUMBS
At the date of the happenings here recorded, 1849, the greater part of California was still an unbroken wilderness, inhabited only by scattered tribes of Indians and the wild beasts. For some three hundred years the Spaniards and the Mexicans had occupied a few choice spots along the coast, with now and then an isolated ranchero in the great interior valleys of the Sacramento and the San Joaquin Rivers. Then, in 1846, had come the War with Mexico and the Conquest of California by the Americans, swiftly followed by the discovery of gold in 1848 and the great inflow of gold-seekers from all parts of the world of 1849 and later, who, of course, all rushed pell-mell to the gold regions, leaving the rest of California more thinly populated than ever. Indeed, in 1849, all California, except the gold regions, was practically deserted; and, since the gold regions were located in what had been, a few weeks before, a mountainous wilderness, nearly everybody in California was living in the wilderness, and, necessarily, living under primitive wilderness conditions—a wild, free, independent sort of a life that quickly brought to the surface the real character of each individual.
Such, then, was the California of 1849, the California of Thure and Bud; and such were the conditions of the life, the wild romantic life of the wilderness mining camps, toward which we left our young friends hastening, their unwilling pack-horses pulling and tugging on the ropes which were dragging them away from the home-pastures, when we rode a little way on the homeward journey with Iola and Ruth.
Now, to return to Thure and Bud.
The Conroyal rancho was situated in the Lower Sacramento Valley, some two-days' journey from Sutter's Fort, near which the City of Sacramento on the Sacramento River had sprung into a sudden and marvelous existence; and, as Sacramento City was then the final rendezvous of all those bound for the mines, some forty miles in the wilderness of mountains to the east, Thure and Bud, naturally, had headed straight for this town, intending, when there, to find someone going to Hangtown, with whom they might journey to this mining camp, where they hoped to find their fathers and their friends. Both boys were well acquainted with the trail to Sutter's Fort, having been there frequently with their fathers; and, since Sacramento City was only a couple of miles or so from Sutter's Fort, they would have no difficulty in finding their way thither. The trail, for the greater part of the distance, ran through beautiful valleys and over low-lying hills, where nature still reigned unfretted by man and where a human being was seldom seen, consequently Thure and Bud expected to have a lonely ride to Sacramento City.
For some little while after the departure of the two girls neither boy spoke. Somehow they did not feel like talking, not even about the wonderful Cave of Gold, nor the skin map, nor the death of the old miner. They were thinking of home and the dear ones from whom they had parted for they knew not how long; and, when boys are thinking deeply of such things, they do not like talking. But, gloom and sadness cannot long conquer the spirits of any normal boy; and, at the end of an hour's riding they were their own lively and talkative selves again.
"I wonder if we can make our old camping-ground to-night?" Thure questioned doubtfully, as they came to a halt, a little before noon, on the top of a steep ridge to give their horses a short rest. "If I remember right, this ridge is not nearly half-way to the place where dad and I always camped when we went to Sutter's Fort; and it must be nearly noon now," and he glanced upward at the sun, which was fast nearing the zenith. "Say, but these old pack-horses are as slow as oxen. I wonder if we can't do something to hurry them up?"
"We've got to make the old camping-ground tonight, if it takes us till midnight," Bud answered emphatically. "That is, we've got to, if we expect to get to Sacramento City to-morrow; and that's where I, for one, expect to be sometime to-morrow night. I reckon, we'll have to drive them pack-horses in front of us and use the whip a little."
"A bully idea," Thure agreed. "I wonder why we did not think of it before. Here, you old slowpoke, get up!" and, whirling his horse around, he suddenly rode up behind his pack-horse and gave that animal a quick blow with his whip.
The scheme worked splendidly; and the two boys were soon on their way again and moving at a considerably increased speed. But, notwithstanding their accelerated motion, it was not until some three hours after sunset that the two tired boys and the four tired horses reached the old camping-grounds, where there was an abundance of water for themselves and horses and fuel for the camp-fire.
"Well, I swun I am tired!" Thure exclaimed, as he threw himself down with a sigh of satisfaction on his blanket before the camp-fire, when, at last, the horses had been unsaddled and unbridled and unpacked and picketed where they could feed on the rich grass, and the two boys had eaten their rude meal of broiled venison—they had shot a young deer on their way—and homemade bread, washed down by a huge tin cup full of coffee of their own brewing.
"I reckon you are not the only tired boy in this camp to-night," and Bud spread out his blanket on the ground by the side of Thure's and stretched himself out on it. "Every bone and muscle in my body has been just a-teasing me for the last two hours to let up and give them a rest. Well, we got here anyhow; and I guess we can now make Sacramento City all right to-morrow night. Say," and he sat up on his blanket with a jerk at the thought that had suddenly come to him, "do you suppose those two villains, who robbed and killed the old miner, have found out that we have the skin map that they committed murder in vain to get? If they have, I reckon we'll have to be on the lookout for them good and sharp. Why, they might be on our trail even now!"
"You are right," and Thure sat up quickly. "But I can't see just how they could know that we have the map. They certainly didn't wait for introductions when we charged down upon them; and I don't believe they followed us home—they were too scart, the cowards! But, as Kit Carson says: 'The time to be cautious is before the Indians get your scalp—not afterwards.' I reckon that means that we've got to keep guard to-night; and I don't believe I ever felt more sleepy," and Thure sighed. "But, if Brokennose and Pockface should happen to be on our trail, they couldn't ask for anything better than to get us two here alone and asleep to-night. They sure would have the skin map in the morning, and, probably, our horses and supplies, and, possibly, our lives. Say, but I just would like to meet them two cowards when I am awake!" and Thure's eyes glinted wrathfully.
"Well, I should not be surprised if we had that pleasure before long," and Bud's face hardened. "If the old miner told them of the Cave of Gold and the skin map, and he said he did, they sure will be on the lookout for the party with the map; and it wouldn't take much inquiring for them to find out that it was us that brought the dead miner home; and then, I reckon, it won't take them two minutes to guess what started us so sudden-like for the mines. I sure hope they won't find us until we get to our dads and Rex and Dill and Hammer Jones. I'd feel safe enough then. You see, we are guarding not only our lives, but also the Cave of Gold; and the finding of that cave means a lot to all of us."
"It sure does," Thure agreed. "Luck has been against both of our dads lately; and, well, we've just got to find that Cave of Gold; and we are going to find it, in spite of all the broken noses and pockmarked faces in the world. But, it won't do to sit here talking all night. We must get all the sleep we can. Who will stand guard first?"
"I will," Bud answered, picking up his rifle and rising; "so get into your blanket and asleep as quick as you can. It must be almost midnight now."
"All right," and Thure began rolling himself up in his blanket. "Wake me in about two hours, and I'll stand guard the rest of the night. We want to be on our way as soon as it is light enough to see. Good night," and in five minutes Thure was as dead to his surroundings as the log near which he lay.
Bud picked up his blanket and moved off into the dark shadows of the low-hanging branches of an evergreen oak and out of the light of the camp-fire, where he could watch, seeing but unseen.
The night had grown dark and cool—all California nights are chilly; and Bud wrapped his blanket around him and, leaning up against the trunk of the tree, looked out into the darkness surrounding the lone camp-fire. In the distance a coyote was making the night hideous with his demoniacal howlings. From a near tree came the lonesome hoot of an owl. All else was still, save from all around came the mysterious sounds of the wilderness at night, suggestive of the low whisperings and talking of uneasy spirits.
But all this was commonplace to Bud. He had often spent the night out in the open, had often stood guard by a lonely camp-fire, when darkness was all around and only the weird voices of the night were heard; and he gave little thought to these things. He was very tired and very sleepy and it took about all the thought power he had to compel himself to stay awake.
An hour past. There had not been a suspicious sound nor movement; and Bud began to feel more secure, began to relax some of his vigilance, began to close his eyes now and then for a brief moment, began to lean more comfortably against the trunk of the tree—then, suddenly, he straightened himself up with a jerk, his eyes wide open, his cocked rifle held ready for instant use. Sure he had heard a sound, a sound that did not belong to the night, a thud like the fall of some heavy body on soft ground, and coming from the direction of the camp-fire! For a moment he stared, tense with excitement, toward the camp-fire, now glowing dully; but he saw nothing unusual, heard nothing unusual. Thure still lay by the side of the log, his form showing faintly in the dull light. The horses were grazing quietly—he could just distinguish their forms through the darkness. They showed no alarm.
"Queer! I certainly heard something fall; and right near! Well, I reckon I had better make sure that everything is all right with Thure," and Bud very cautiously stepped out from the shadows of the tree and, moving softly, crept up to where Thure lay. His deep regular breathing told him that he was sound asleep and that all was well with him.
"Must have been dreaming," he muttered in disgust, and returned to his station under the tree; but he did not close his eyes again.
There were no other suspicious sounds during the remainder of his watch, nor during the watch of Thure; and the dawning of morning found both boys and all their belongings safe and sound.
"Did you see or hear anything suspicious during your watch?" was Bud's first query, when Thure awoke him the next morning.
"No. Why?" answered Thure. "Did you?"
"Well, I—I don't know," and Bud jumped to his feet and began looking sharply around over the ground near the camp-fire.
Suddenly he uttered an exclamation and, bending quickly down, picked up a large flat stone that was lying between the log, near which Thure had slept, and the camp-fire.
"I—I don't remember of seeing this stone here last night," and he turned it over curiously; and then uttered another exclamation that brought Thure to his side on the jump.
The stone was flat, some three inches thick, nearly round, and, possibly, a foot in diameter. One side was nearly white and smooth; and the astonished eyes of the boys read, rudely written on this side, evidently with a piece of charred coal, these ominous words:
LEVE THE MAP TO THE MINERS CAVE UNDER THIS STON NEAR YOUR CAMP FIRE WHEN YOU BRAKE CAMP IN THE MORNING AND NEVER TELL NOBODY WHAT THE MINER TOLD YOU ABOUT THE CAVE—OR WELL GIT YOU THE SAME AS WE GOT THE MINER—LIFE IS WURTH MOREN GOLD AND YOULL NEVER LIVE TO GIT THE GOLD.
Under these words were the red prints of two thumbs—one the mark of a huge thumb and the other the mark of a much smaller thumb—as if their owners had covered their thumbs with blood and then pressed them against the stone, in lieu of signatures.
For a full two minutes the two boys stood staring at these words, their faces whitening and their eyes widening.
"How—how did this get here?" Thure was the first to speak.
For answer Bud leaped to the log, by the side of which Thure had slept, and, bending over it, looked closely at the ground on the other side.
"Right from behind this log!" he exclaimed, after a moment's scrutiny of the ground. "The fellow that threw that stone crept up behind this log and then got up on his knees and tossed the rock to where we found it. You can still see the prints of his knees and toes in the ground. I thought I heard a sound like the fall of something heavy during my watch; but I was half asleep when I heard it," and Bud's face flushed a little; "and when I couldn't see anything suspicious or find anything suspicious or hear any more suspicious sounds, I concluded I had only fancied I had heard the sound. But that is sure no fancy," and his eyes glared at the stone, which Thure still held.
"And I was sound asleep right on the other side of that log at that very moment!" and Thure's weather-bronzed face whitened a little. "No more logs for bedfellows for me!"
"Yes, and he must have been lying right on the other side of that log, when I bent over you to see if you were all right," added Bud. "If I'd been only smart enough to look, it might have saved us from a lot of trouble," and Bud's lips tightened grimly.
"Better as it is," Thure declared. "Now, we've had our warning and nobody hurt; but, if you had discovered the fellow behind the log, they'd have got you, sure, and, probably, me, too. Both were doubtless on hand; and would have shot you before you could have done anything, if you had discovered one of them. Now, I reckon, if they had found the camp unguarded, they were intending to have a try for the map then and there—and they would have got it! Well, what do you think about doing as they ask, and leaving the map under the stone? It seems from what that stone says—"
"What!" and Bud turned in astonishment to Thure. "Give up that map to a couple of the biggest cowards and cut-throats in California? I'd sooner give them every drop of blood in my body. I—"
"Well, you need not get so rambunctuous over it," laughed Thure. "But," and his face sobered, "I reckon that that there is no idle threat," and he pointed to the flat stone, which now lay on the ground at his feet; "and I fancy the sooner we get to our dads the better it will be for us. Not that I'd be afraid of those two skunks," he added hastily, "if they'd come out in the open, where one could see them; but I do not care for any more creeping upon a fellow in the dark, when he's asleep," and he glanced shudderingly toward the log. "But, there is no use of talking any more about it. Let's get busy. We must make Sacramento City to-night sure."
In a very short time breakfast was eaten, the horses saddled and bridled and packed, and the two boys ready to mount and to start on their way again.
"Now, for our answer to that there message," and Thure picked up the flat stone and dropped it into the camp-fire. "I reckon that will tell them what we think of their threat; and that we're too old to be scart like little school boys," and he sprang on the back of his horse. "Now for Sacramento City!" and the two boys, with watchful eyes glancing all around them, resumed their lonely journey toward the new city on the Sacramento.