CONTENTS
| Chapter | Page | |
| I. | In the Channel | [9] |
| II. | Farewell To Hawaii | [17] |
| III. | Jeems’ Story | [25] |
| IV. | The Lost Mine | [33] |
| V. | Working the Ship | [41] |
| VI. | Dangerous Work | [49] |
| VII. | What They Saw | [57] |
| VIII. | A Race | [66] |
| IX. | The Engineer | [75] |
| X. | The Russian | [85] |
| XI. | A Conspiracy | [94] |
| XII. | The Green Ghosts | [103] |
| XIII. | Tom’s Bad Luck | [112] |
| XIV. | The Trial | [121] |
| XV. | “The Maria Crothers” | [130] |
| XVI. | An Exciting Charge | [140] |
| XVII. | A Chase | [148] |
| XVIII. | The Diagram | [157] |
| XIX. | The Camp in the Valley | [167] |
| XX. | A Surprise | [176] |
| XXI. | The Greaser | [185] |
| XXII. | Hail | [192] |
| XXIII. | A Holiday | [202] |
| XXIV. | Big Gus and His Gang | [209] |
| XXV. | A New Fort | [215] |
| XXVI. | A Night Attack | [222] |
| XXVII. | The Retreat | [229] |
| XXVIII. | A New Start | [237] |
| XXIX. | The Search | [244] |
| XXX. | The Lost Mine Again | [251] |
The Frontier Boys in the
Sierras
CHAPTER I
IN THE CHANNEL
“By Jove, Jim!” exclaimed Jo Darlington, “but this sea is something fierce! For one I will be mighty glad when we get clear of the Hawaiian channels and out into the open.”
“It is lively going,” yelled Jim, above the roar of the wind, as he and his brother Jo were standing together on the bridge of their ship, “but I guess the Sea Eagle will weather it, if we don’t run into another vessel in the dark. How about it, Captain?”
The captain, who was the rather bent figure of an old man, was clothed in a heavy woolen jacket, buttoned across his chest. He stopped and regarded Jim fixedly in the semi-light on the bridge.
“What’s that, Skipper?” he roared hoarsely, “weather this? Why, this ain’t no sea, and the Sea Eagle is a staunch boat. Why, lad, you must be joking.”
“I was,” replied Jim, laughing. “I just want to reassure brother Jo,—that was all.”
“Somebody ought to go and cheer up Tom and Jeems Howell,” remarked Jo, in order to give himself some sea standing in the eyes of Captain Kerns. “They are as sick as puppies down in the cabin.”
“Don’t blame ’em much,” cried Jim, “this motion would upset a shark’s liver.”
If you have read “The Frontier Boys in Hawaii,” you will be well acquainted with these conversationalists on the good sea-going yacht, the Sea Eagle, but if not, you will have to be introduced, “Mr. Reader, this is Skipper James Darlington.”
“Happy to make your acquaintance, hope you are a good sailor?”
“Mr. Reader, allow me to present Captain Kerns.”
Captain Kerns merely grunts, and, kind Mr. Reader, you must overlook his lack of formality, because the captain is an old salt and his manners are a little briny.
In way of further explanation, I may say that the Frontier Boys are just returning from a trip to Hawaii in which they have explored the wonderful crater of Haleapala on the Island of Maui, and their ship the Sea Eagle, whose capture is another story, is pointing her prow eastward through the rough channel that separates Hawaii and Maui.
They are en route to the coast of California, and as soon as they land they have planned to make an exploring expedition into the wilds of The Sierra Nevadas, in search of a lost mine, rumors of which have come to their ears. Besides the three Frontier Boys and their comrade Juarez, there is their friend Jeems Howell, a shepherd and philosopher, from a small island off the coast of California; Captain Kerns, a retired ship’s master who was persuaded to come along merely to supervise; Jim, the oldest of the three brothers, being the acting commander, though generally referred to as skipper. And besides these, there is old Pete, an ancient mariner, the engineer, and a sturdy boy below who does a good deal of the stoking.
Besides these dramatis personæ, there is a general chorus of Mermen and Mermaids, sharks, porpoises, sea serpents et al.; as Jo Darlington would say, it was the sharks that et all. But this is no reflection upon the appetites of the boys, which was invariably good, if we may except Tom Darlington and Jeems Howell just at the present moment.
Now, on with the voyage: as the principals have been introduced and are ready, they can come to close grips with the ocean and all its dangers, so that the referee, being the writer, has made his exit through the ropes, allowing a free field and no favor. It is a tough beginning as far as sea way goes. The hour is close upon midnight in mid-channel, and that is no dream even on so staunch a little craft as the Sea Eagle.
“That time she lapped the starboard boat into the water,” yelled Jim. “Hold steady now, lads.”
Then up rose the ship on the other roll to larboard; over, over, over she went; would she never stop? Then with a straining of all her timbers, that had all the effort of severe muscular tension, she did stop, then back she rolled on the other tack which was equally as sharp, the brass balls on top of her masts pointing from star to star, describing, it seemed, almost a semi-circle.
To make it more interesting the Sea Eagle would then dip under a huge wave and the water would swish and roll aft along the main deck. The wind whistled and hummed through the taut ropes, and altogether it was a lively night, even if the sturdy old captain did discount its terrors. Occasionally Jim and Jo would slide across the bridge and bring up against the side; but as a rule they kept their sea legs in good shape.
“Hold on, Juarez,” cried Jim, as he saw a dark form emerge from the companionway, “here comes a big wave.”
But with the roar of the sea and the wind Juarez did not hear the warning, and had just started across the deck when under went the Sea Eagle, and a tremendous wave swept aft, submerging the bulwarks. It caught Juarez off his feet and swirled him toward the side. He would not have lived a minute in those rearing, plunging seas.
As he was swept over, he caught frantically at an iron stanchion and barely gripped it, and before he could make an effort to help himself he was submerged in the water, the sea tugging at him as though it were an hungry animal. Hardy as Juarez was, he could not help but feel a thrill of terror; it seemed as if the waves desperately clutched at him.
Jim was filled with horror when he saw Juarez apparently carried overboard. He shook off the captain’s grip; the latter thought that Jim was going to spring over after his friend, which act he knew would result in two lives being thrown away. So he leaped to the main deck. Then he saw Juarez struggling to get aboard before the next wave came. He sprang to his help and with a powerful pull yanked him in.
They braced themselves against the attack of a second wave that swept the deck and then they were “high and dry” on the bridge, drenched to the skin, but entirely safe, and none the worse for their impromptu bath.
“That was a close call, Juarez,” said Jo sympathetically.
“Another call like that and I won’t be tu hum,” replied Juarez with a grin.
“Next time take a look for’ard, lad,” said the captain, who had joined the group in the shelter of the deck house; “we could never have picked you up on a dark night like this.” Then he went back to his station on the bridge. The hardy old sailor would never have dreamed of making much ado about any accident no matter how serious. If the party came through alive, that was sufficient to show that it was not very bad. The Frontier Boys, too, had absorbed a good deal of that philosophy in the course of many dangers which they had so fortunately outlived.
When daylight came, the Sea Eagle had battered her way through the rough channel, its waters tortured by rapid currents and terrific cross seas, and was now pitching along the windward coast of the big Island of Hawaii, with its twin volcanic summits nearly fourteen thousand feet in height. It was not smooth going yet by any means, but better than during the night.
“Get up, Tom, and look at the scenery.” It was Jim’s cheerful voice, addressed to Tom, who lay pale and rather wan in his bunk.
“I’ve got no use for scenery,” growled Tom, “unless I can get close enough to it to put my foot on it. I want something solid.”
“How would a beefsteak do, Tom?” It was Jo, who was looking over Jim’s shoulder. At the mention of food, Tom seemed endowed with sudden energy and reached down, and grabbing up a shoe, hurled it at the two in the doorway. They ducked and the missile barely grazed the beard of the old captain, who was coming aft, and then it went overboard.
“By Thundas!” he exclaimed, opening his eyes wide with surprise, “who kicked that?”
“Tom threw it, sir,” said Jim with a burst of laughter he could not control, at sight of the captain’s astonished visage, “but he meant it for us, because we were guying him.”
“I’ll forgive him on account of his intentions,” grinned the captain. “I only wish he had swatted you.”
Tom was much relieved to hear this expression of opinion on the part of the captain, of whom he stood in considerable awe. From fright to relief was such a revulsion of feeling that Tom forgot to be sea-sick, and he began to mend from that moment, so that he was able to be present for duty when breakfast was served.
“I thought you were sick abed,” remarked Jim, opening his eyes with surprise.
“I was,” replied Tom, “until I threw up that shoe, now I feel fine and fit to eat a square meal.”
CHAPTER II
FAREWELL TO HAWAII
Jeems Howell was the only one of the hardy Frontier group who was unable to be present at breakfast that fine morning.
“How are you feeling, Jeems,” inquired Jo, looking in upon the sufferer a little later. “Don’t you think that you could eat a little something if you were propped up with pillows?”
“No, no, lad,” said Jeems sadly. “I feel that I ain’t long for this world.”
“I don’t know what you call it then,” remarked the incorrigible Jo, “you are six feet four and that seems to me to be pretty long for this world or any other.”
Jeems laughed so heartily at this that he too began forthwith to recuperate. Then he got out on the land side of the deck and, though the sun was of a sufficient warmth to satisfy the most exacting, he kept a heavy shawl wrapped around his shoulders.
“Durned old woman,” growled the captain when he caught sight of the figure seated between the cabin and the rail. “He ought to be for’ard scrubbing deck.”
However, Skipper Jim was more lenient, and only laughed at the captain’s severity, for he knew that the old fellow’s bark was much worse than his bite. In fact, no work was being done aboard ship that morning, for all hands were given a chance for a long last look at Hawaii. Never again were they to behold a more beautiful scene than the panorama that traveled steadily along with the Sea Eagle that morning.
The soft radiance flooded the deeply azure sea, and the tropic island of vivid and varied green. The four boys stood leaning lazily on the ship’s rail, gazing in silence at the view that was passing before them. Their sombreros shaded their eyes, but the glare from the water shone upon their faces of healthy bronze, and they did not seem to mind it in the least. The old captain sat upon the bridge in his old armchair, with his old comrade, the tortoise-shell cat, dozing and blinking at his feet, a true picture of furry felicity.
So the crew of the Sea Eagle passed in review this coast of Hawaii, with black precipices, that rose in a continuous line of palisades from out the sea, with no white beach shelving down. The great green surges, with the force of the Pacific behind them, rolled against the perpendicular walls, the dark surfaces of which were veined at frequent intervals by the silvery lines of the waterfalls, or graced by the vines which fell in straight lines, or were looped in varied shapes.
Beyond these cliffs there rose the splendid slopes, with here and there groves of royal palms and slender cocoa trees, fit temples for the gods of ancient Hawaii who were supposed to dwell in streams and groves and mountains. Still higher up the mountain side grew the forests of creamy koa, inlaid among the dark-leaved kukui.
At times the skirts of the clouds, heavy with moisture, dragged along the lower slopes, and a soft gloom would diffuse itself over the landscape. Then the sun would roll the mists aside for the moment, and the light would fall upon tropical vales, hills and mountain slopes, with all the vividness of the early spring and yet with the full, rich splendor of summer.
No wonder the Frontier Boys were silent as they gazed upon this scene of varied and unusual beauty, so different from the wild and barren grandeur of the mountain ranges in their own country, and the arid deserts they had traveled over.
“I’d hate to fall overboard here,” exclaimed Tom, “it looks all-fired deep.”
“The captain says that along these island coasts,” remarked Juarez, “is some of the deepest seas in the world.”
“Say, Jeems,” cried Juarez to the invalid, “wade out here and see how deep it is.”
“If you really want to know I’ll tell you,” responded Jeems, the philosopher. “Off this coast it’s between five and seven thousand feet.”
“Whew!” whistled Jim, “over a mile, how is that for down?”
“It makes me shiver to think of it,” exclaimed Tom.
“Hello, boys!” cried Jeems, “there is a big fire over on the other side of the Island.”
“I should say!” commented Jim earnestly. “Look at that smoke rolling up.”
“It must be a forest fire,” put in Jo. “Reminds me of our Colorado experiences.”
“I tell you what, boys, let’s make a landing and take a look at it,” cried Juarez. “There’s a fine harbor ahead of us!”
Old Captain Kerns was taking a deep interest in the conversation, as was evident, as he looked down from the quarter deck at the boys.
“What’s that you lads were saying, about a big fire somewheres?” he inquired. “I hope it hain’t aboard ship.”
“No, no, Captain,” replied Jim reassuringly, “we meant that big smoke over on the other side of the island. Juarez wants to make a landing, so as we can see it to better advantage. We don’t want to miss any excitement.”
“You lads are always so eager,” replied the captain. “Why don’t you wait until you get back here sometime?”
“It will be burned out long before we get back,” said Jo.
“Well,” said the captain slowly, “that smoke has been there for nigh onto a thousand years, and is liable to be there for some time yet. That’s the volcano of Kiluæa.”
How the captain roared then; for an instant the boys were dumfounded, then they gave themselves up to hilarious mirth.
“That’s certainly one on us boys,” cried Jim. “We can’t tell a volcano when we see it. We ought to have stayed on the old farm and dug potatoes.”
After the ship had turned northward from the coast of Hawaii the boys set to work about their usual tasks aboard ship. Jim took the wheel; Juarez went below to work with the engineer, with whom he was quite chummy; Jeems and Jo scrubbed decks, while Tom was busy in the galley preparing the dinner. All the boys were pretty fair cooks, but Tom’s cooking probably had more style to it, though he was not quite a French chef.
The old captain had turned into his cabin on the quarter deck to take a good nap in his bunk, while the cat, whom he named Ulysses, both on account of his wisdom and because he had been a great traveler, was curled up in the chair beside him. So the day went quickly and cheerfully by,—the first day at sea.
In the late afternoon all hands were on deck to take their last look at Hawaii, that was fast becoming a mythical island on the enchanted border of the horizon. The bulk of the Island of Hawaii was encompassed with an atmosphere of wonderful blue, rising from out the dusk, which shrouded the distant sea, and its two great volcanic cones, that rose to the glow of the sunset, were touched with a delicate pink.
“We have had a fine time down there in Hawaii, boys,” said Jim, “but I’m glad we are headed for home.”
“I suppose you will try to locate that lost mine in the Sierras?” said Tom, “that Jeems spoke about the other day.”
“If there is anything lost we are the ones to locate it,” said Jo. “There is no doubt about that.”
“We must get Jeems to tell us more about it,” said Jim. “Perhaps we can get him to tune up this evening after supper.”
“Time to put up the lights, Captain?” inquired Juarez.
“Yes, Juarez,” replied Jim. “You may attend to it.”
“I don’t see what’s the use,” remarked Tom. “We won’t probably see a ship until we get near the coast of California.”
“Don’t make any difference,” replied Jim. “That’s the law of the sea and you can’t ever tell what you will run against.”
Juarez did not wait to hear the discussion, but went after the red and the green lanterns. He placed the red on the starboard side for’ard in a wooden bracket well up, and the green was placed on the port side, or the left, and they shone through the bronze dusk that obscured the rolling sea, like separate jewels, the emerald and the ruby.
It was a happy group that gathered around the supper table in the cabin that evening, for the boys were homeward bound. The windows of the skylight were wide open, because it was a typical tropical night—warm and balmy—and the great lamp that swung over the table with its brass reflector served to make it warmer still.
“Tell us something more about that lost mine you were telling about the other day, Jeems,” piped up Tom.
“Don’t tell Tom first,” warned Jim, “because if you do, he will have all the shares sold before we arrive.” There was a general laugh at this because Tom was strictly business when it came to money.
“Wait till we get on deck, then I’ll spout,” said Jeems.
CHAPTER III
JEEMS’ STORY
So the clan shortly after supper gathered at the after hatch on the main deck to hear what Jeems had to tell them in regard to this stray, lost, or stolen mine in the depths of the Sierra Nevadas. The captain was seated in his old chair upon the quarter deck, and, in the gloaming, puffing thoughtfully at his weathered old pipe, meditating, like as not, on the days of long ago, when he was as full of life as that bunch now talking and laughing on the main deck.
“This is a fine old night,” declared Jo, as he stretched himself comfortably out on the canvas cover of the hatch.
“I never saw so many stars before,” declared Tom, “must be a million in sight.”
“Not so, son,” remarked Jeems. “There is not more than three thousand visible to the naked eye.”
“Go on with you,” said Tom, conclusively, “you needn’t tell me that. It’s as much of a yarn as your story of the lost mine.”
“Don’t mind him, Jeems,” said Jim. “Let’s hear your tale of woe about this mine that somebody lost.”
“Well,” remarked Jeems, “if you children will be quiet and don’t interrupt, I’ll begin. First make yourselves comfortable.”
This the boys proceeded to do; Jim and Juarez stretched their long legs out on the deck, with their backs against the hatch, while Tom started to make himself content and at ease by using Jo’s stomach for a pillow. This, however, did not agree with Jo’s idea of comfort, or perhaps it was his stomach that it did not agree with. However that may be, there was a cat fight on the hatch, Jo and Tom grappling with each other and struggling over and over. Jim was about to jump in and separate them, when he saw that they were likely to roll off the hatch on to the deck, and then he would not have interfered for anything.
The two combatants were so interested that they did not see or care. Then they poised on the edge and, as the ship gave a roll, over they went, just missing Jeems’ shepherd dog, who was peacefully lying, nose over paws, upon the deck. This unexpected avalanche sent him howling for’ard for safety.
Then still clutching each other they rolled into the scuppers, Tom striving to get a strangle hold on brother Jo, and the latter chugging Tom in the side with his free fist. At this juncture Jim took a hand, not in the interest of peace, but because he wanted to hear the shepherd’s yarn. So he yanked them apart, none too gently.
“Ain’t you ashamed of yourselves?” exclaimed Jim severely, “mussing up my clean deck and scaring Jeems’ dog into a fit.”
“I’m no sofa pillow,” panted Jo. “Tom will find that out.”
“I’ll put you children on either side of the hatch if you don’t behave,” advised Jim, “and make you sit there.”
“Like to see you try it,” replied Tom belligerently.
“Send ’em to bed without any supper,” put in Juarez jocosely.
“I’d give ’em a taste of the rope’s end.”
It was the old captain’s voice rumbling down from the quarter deck. He, too, had been aroused by the sound of the scuffle. Tom glanced up at him with an apprehensive eye, for he stood in considerable awe of the old sailor, and quieted right down.
“They will be good boys now, Captain,” grinned Jim. “Their feelings were temporarily upset.”
“It seemed to be an upset of some kind,” replied the captain with a grim smile, and went back to his chair.
Peace being restored, Jeems began his narrative in the slow, drawling manner characteristic of his mode of speech. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and his gray eyes—large and open—seemed to be looking dreamily over the dusky sea, that was rolling languidly through the warm darkness of the night.
“It was a some different sort of night than this when I first heard tell of the mine, which maybe you boys think you will find some trace of, being young and hopeful and full of action.”
“Now, Jeems, don’t get personal,” warned Jim. “We aren’t as young as we act.”
“I know it, Skipper,” admitted Jeems; “but as I was going to tell you, this night I was speaking of, it had started in to snow something fierce. I was young then myself, and had been prospectin’ all day and had come home to my little cabin that was under the shelter of a huge ledge in the mid-Sierras.
“I can tell you, lads, I was mighty glad to be out of the storm that night, and I pitied any poor prospector who might be caught out in it. My cabin was smaller than the one I had on the Island off the coast, where you first discovered me, but it was comfortable and warm, and well sheltered from the wind.
“I had built a big stone fireplace in one corner of the cabin, and had big sticks of pine piled up to the roof and a lot just outside of the door. You know how pitch pine will burn.”
“Needn’t tell us,” cried the audience in chorus.
“Besides wood, I had enough grub to stand a siege, as I was always forehanded.”
“Must have been durn lonesome,” commented Jo. “Grub and firewood ain’t everything.”
“That sort of business would just suit me,” put in Juarez.
“Well, I wasn’t entirely alone,” said the shepherd.
“Wife with you?” cut in Tom, who could be over-smart at times. Jim noticed that the shepherd winced at the careless question, and he put a grip on Tom’s knee that meant that the said Tom had better keep his mouth shut.
“A man don’t take his wife into such a wilderness as that,” said Jim.
“Go on, Jeems, and there won’t be any more personal interruptions.”
“Well, Skipper, as I was agoin’ to say, I had with me a big hound, one that had followed me on my trips ever since he was a puppy. A prospector had given him to me when I was sluicing for gold on Rainbow Creek. He was a smooth, black-skinned dog, with stubby ears, and a jaw on him like a prize fighter. He was equal to anything in a fight short of a grizzly, and I valued his company considerable, I can tell you.”
“I should like to have seen a scrap between him and Captain Graves’ Santa Anna.” (This was on the back trail when the Frontier Boys were in Colorado), said Juarez.
“Get Jo and Tom to mixing it,” laughed Jim, “and you’ll have some idea of what it would be like.”
At this point the boys were surprised to see Jeems become angry at Juarez’s innocent interruption. It was the first time that the boys had ever seen Jeems Howell anything but good-natured, no matter what happened, or what prank was played on him. But, as Jo remarked later, “Human nature is a mighty uncertain business, and everybody has got a cranky spot in ’em if you just happen to strike it at the explosive time.” Which is a mighty true observation, which you can prove to your own satisfaction any day in the week. The writer being example No. 1, and you, indulgent reader, example No. 2.
Jim and Juarez, by their combined and genial efforts, pulled Jeems out of the sulks and on to his own sunny level once more. Then he took up his narrative again.
“Well, boys, it don’t seem that I have got any right to criticize that black hound’s temper, considering my own.”
“Anybody is apt to get riled once in a lifetime, Jeems,” said Jim, “even Tom here has been known to act up occasionally.” Tom joined in the laugh because he had a notoriously quick temper, and complete serenity was restored.
“That hound would never make friends with anyone except me,” continued Jeems, “and I could always depend on his watchfulness to warn me of the approach of any marauder. It was a wild country, and with bad Indians and worse white men you always had to be on your guard. Still on this night I tell ye of, the storm was so wild and fierce that I did not believe anyone would be abroad who had any sort of a place to stay in.
“Before turning in, I stepped outside to see how things were going. The hound followed close on my heels. I closed the door tight and stood in the darkness with my old gray hat pulled down close around my head. I could scarcely see. The snow was swirling from the ledge above my cabin, and was blown out in great sheets into the night.
“Then the hound began to growl kind of low, and his hair was bristling, but he did not show any sudden desire to take a jump down the mountain side, as he would under ordinary circumstances, and I didn’t urge him because I thought he showed mighty good sense.”