Story 1—Chapter XIX.
Gold at Last—Eureka!
When Jasper and the mule waggon appeared at Minturne Creek, some time after the departure of Noah Webster and the rescue party, the miners who had been left at work under the charge of Tom Cannon, as Noah’s deputy, greeted the arrival with a cheer, as they had been kept in ignorance of what had really happened, and imagined that the waggon had been sent for, as well as a few additional good shots from their party, in order to bring in an unexpected supply of game which the hunters had come across.
Jasper’s conveyance certainly did carry something in the game line, the negro having mentioned to Seth about the wapiti deer that Ernest Wilton had shot, and being directed by him to stop and cart it home with them, as it lay in their road to the camp; but the main cargo of the waggon, their wounded manager, whom Jasper hailed them to come and help him lift out, was a double surprise to the men, and a grief as well, as may be readily understood when it is considered how much Seth was liked by the hands under him.
They vowed vengeance against the Indians; and it required all the exercise of Seth’s authority to prevent another party from sallying off to aid the first in the rescue of Sailor Bill. But, after a time, the excitement calmed down, and they waited with as much patience as they possessed the return of the others; although nothing that Seth could say would persuade them to turn in all that weary night, during which time they were in a state of suspense as to the fate of their comrades; and they were equally disinclined to resume work in the mine.
They seemed capable of doing nothing, until they should learn how the matter was settled, one way or other; and—heedless even of the welcome addition of fresh meat to their scanty fare, in the fine wapiti that they possessed through the precision of the young engineer’s rifle, which at another time would have roused equally their enthusiasm and their appetites—remained grouped round impromptu log-fires that they had lit to hail the absentees when they came back, looking to their arms and ammunition so as to be ready for anything that might happen, and considering amongst themselves as to what was best to be done in the event of the non-arrival of the rescue party within a reasonable limit; Seth fretting and worrying himself the while as much as any, although he tried to preserve a quiet demeanour in order to reassure the rest, and exclaiming against the “paltry wounds,” as he called them—which gave him much pain in spite of Jasper continually soaking the bandages around them with cold water in pursuance of his directions—that prevented him from taking an active part in his protégé’s recovery, instead of waiting idly there while others went bravely to the fore, as he should have done.
Be the night however weary, and watching long, the morning comes at last:—thus it was now with the miners of Minturne Creek.
Daylight is a wonderful panacea for those gloomy thoughts and anxieties which are nourished and magnified during the dark hours of the night; so, when the sun arose next morning, after the weary watch of Seth and the others, in the expectation that they might receive every moment the news of some disaster to their comrades who had been gone so long, instead of their fears being increased by the knowledge that the rescue party had not yet returned, they felt inclined to take a much more sanguine view of the situation—a view that Seth not only endorsed but was the prime agent in promulgating, possibly through the pain of his wounds having considerably lessened and caused him to look on things in a more hopeful way.
“Tha’are all right b’ys, I reckon,” said he. “No noos is good noos; fur ef anythin’ had kinder happen’d to ’em, we should have heert afore.”
“So thinks I,” said Tom Cannon; “and let’s set to work agin, mates, at the shaft, to let the boss see, when he comes back, that we ha’n’t been idle in his absence; p’raps, too, we’ll have something to show him in the gold line, as I don’t think as how we’re far off the lode now.”
“That’s yer sort,” echoed Seth, from amidst the pile of buffalo rugs alongside one of the fires in the open space before the hut, where he would persist in staying, to be the first to receive the rescue party on their return, and where he said he could nurse his injuries far better than going to bed in the anxious frame of mind he was in. “That’s yer sort, b’ys! Tackle to the job with a will, my hearties; it’ll be a durned sight better nor restin’ on your oars and doin’ nothin’, as I’m forced to do, like the battered old hulk I am!”
These cheery words from Tom Cannon and Seth had the desired effect of restoring a little more activity to the scene around the creek; and the small band of the remaining miners, dividing their attenuated forces into two gangs and taking short shifts turn about at intervals, worked with such praiseworthy diligence, that when Mr Rawlings and the other adventurers arrived in safety near mid-day, escorting the recovered Sailor Bill scatheless in triumph back to the camp, they had got through a surprising amount of work. The tubbing had been put into position two days before, and had been found to act admirably; the water had been pumped out, and the men at work were driving to the left, as Ernest Wilton thought that they were at present only on the wall of the lode, which was a very strong one, and that it would be found much richer upon the other wall.
As soon as mutual congratulations had been interchanged amongst the leaders, and the joy of the whole party at being once more reunited had somewhat subsided, Tom Cannon, and one of the leading miners who had been last down the new shaft, approached the spot where Mr Rawlings, Ernest Wilton, and Noah Webster were grouped, chatting together, with Seth—behind whom Sailor Bill had taken up his usual place, on his return to camp, with his customary apathetic air, the boy not exhibiting the slightest increase of animation, despite all the excitement and unwonted scenes through which he had recently passed, or any return to that sudden change of demeanour, almost amounting to a fit of frenzy, which he had again displayed for an instant, as Seth asserted, when he interposed to save his life from the onslaught of the savage, on the prairie, as he had done when he came forward in a similar way to rescue him on board the Susan Jane on the ship’s being taken aback the previous year.
“I guess thaar’s sunthin’ up now,” said Noah Webster, as the two men came towards him and the others, noticing a slight assumption of mystery on the part of Tom Cannon and his companion, a man who was familiarly styled “Left Bower” amongst the miners, from the fact not only of his surname being Bower, but on account of the singular dexterity he exhibited in the great American card game of euchre.
“Guess so,” said Seth, sotto voce. “They’ve been downright busy since you’ve been gone, workin’ like hosses, that they have! Waal, b’ys,” he added aloud for the benefit of the coming deputation, “what’s the rumpus neow? Panned out anythin’ tall?”
“See!” said Tom Cannon, opening his closed fist and displaying a little tiny heap of gold dust lying in the palm of his hand. “All that came out o’ one lump o’ quartz taken out of the gravel in the heading we’ve begun. We can see it everywhere in the rock, and it was getting richer every inch we got in.”
“Ay,” put in Left Bower, “heaps, I reckon, boss,” addressing himself to Mr Rawlings, who turned as pale at the receipt of the news as if he were going to faint. “We’ve struck the lode at last, mister, and run slick inter a bonanza if ever they were one; may I never see Frisco again, if we haven’t!”
“Hooray!” shouted Seth, attempting to rise and wave his hat as he was wont to do in moments of triumph, but quickly quieting down again as the pain of his foot reminded him of having been wounded. “Didn’t I say so—ask any a one in camp if I didn’t—that we’d find the gold at last? Hooray!” he repeated aloud at the pitch of his voice, his cheer being taken up instantly by the main body of the miners, who were gossiping in front of Josh’s caboose, with a heartiness that resounded through the valley and even made the hills echo again; while Jasper, who had been under a sort of cloud ever since his cowardly conduct on the prairie, joined Josh in an exciting pas à deux before the latter’s culinary sanctum, and repeating ever and anon his jubilant song, “Golly, massa, um told yer so!”
“And you are not through the vein yet?” asked Ernest Wilton when he was able to speak calmly, he and Mr Rawlings hurrying towards the head of the new workings in company with Noah Webster and the first discoverers of the ore; the rest of the miners following after at a distance; eager to set to work again at once as soon as their leaders should give orders to that effect. Seth, seeing himself thus deserted, and not wishing to be “left out in the cold,” therefore requisitioned the aid of the two darkeys, and made them carry him in the rear of the procession, which put a summary stop to their dancing, but delighted them equally as well, for they were thus enabled to learn all that was going on without the annoyance of having their ears perchance boxed for listening without permission: consequently there was a general move all round.
“No sign of the other wall,” said Tom Cannon as spokesman, “we’re nigh four feet in from the bottom of the shaft. The richest is that near the river.”
“That is just what we expected from the statement of Mr Rawlings’ original discoverer. He found it rich in the little shaft he sank there, and that is at the point where the two lodes run into each other. I expect we shall find it richer every foot we go in that direction. If so, it will be one of the richest finds we know of.”
So saying, Ernest, full of eagerness and expectation, was lowered away into the mine by the men. He did not stop very long below the surface; and on his return his face seemed to glow with the goods news he brought.
“It’s all right,” he gasped out, almost before he got out of the shaft; “you’ve hit on the richest lode I ever saw in my experience. We ought to get tons of gold out of that quartz. We have just struck the centre of a pocket, I think, which must extend to the old workings of your cousin Ned. Mr Rawlings, I congratulate you; your luck has changed at last, and if all turns out as I expect, you’ll be the wealthiest man in Dakota!”
“Hooray, b’ys!” shouted out Seth, almost choking poor Josh and Jasper by gripping their necks with his muscular arms in his excitement, the darkeys supporting him, as if in a chair with their hands clasped beneath him, on which he sat with his arms resting on their shoulders, although he now shifted his hold unwittingly to their necks. “Hooray! I sed the Britisher were the b’y for us; an’ so he air!”