The storekeeper, to satisfy him, with an axe “busted em in,” and found to his astonishment that instead of its being a barrel of rotten hams, it was, in fact, a barrel of good, old-fashioned sauerkraut of mature age made in Holland having been brought around Cape Horn in some ship. When the storekeeper inquired of the man how in the world he knew what was in that barrel, with a toss of his shaggy head and with a vigorous sniff he replied:
“Vell, den, I shust nose it!”
This sauerkraut sold readily at a fabulous price, $1 per pound being considered very reasonable. The odor of it had been wafted by the winds though the various ravines and gulches among the hills, and soon was scented by the Dutch miners from afar, who came from all directions to indulge in the odoriferous compound brought from the Fatherland.
Up to this time, quietness and peace had reigned and but few quarrels had occurred among the residents of the country, and, as far as I know, no one had been shot. Neither had there been any robberies committed, for there was no necessity of it since all had the opportunity of engaging in, what was at that period in the history of the country, a very profitable business. Locks upon doors were unnecessary, and articles of value, as well as the gold dust in the cradle, could be left upon the claim in perfect safety. It was from
this fact that originated the old, worn-out term of “honest miner.”
Many strange characters crossed the plains at this season; but a very few, however, came with the intention of mining or of making a living by manual labor at all, the great majority of them being bar-room loafers and gamblers. They all succeeded, however, in making a living by the use of their capital, which consisted principally of their wits.
“Old Pike” was a character common in the gold regions, and specimens of this genus could be found in every mining camp. They were generally advanced in years, good natured, and afforded no little amusement to the miners.
The back-woods fiddler, usually from Arkansas, was also a character seen in every mining town, and his chief business was to seat himself upon an old box or barrel by the saloon door, and give to the miners who congregated in the town after the work of the day was over a specimen of Arkansas music, such as the real genuine “Arkansas Traveler,” with all its variations. By this means he was enabled, at any rate, to sample the various liquors at the bar, which answered also for victuals and clothing.
Another singular character in the mines was the genus generally designated as “Dutch Charley.” They were Hollanders by birth, and sailors by occupation, and singularly enough they were almost invariably the most fortunate miners in the camps in early times. Their claims were rich, and they enjoyed their affluence to the highest degree, for it was no uncommon sight to see one of these “Dutch Charlies” parading in town, on a Sunday, with a huge gold watch in each vest pocket and with an immense chain suspended around his neck and waist, with the ends reaching near to his knees. These chains were made from gold nuggets, which were fastened together with copper wire. But the career of this genus was short, and as the rich ravines were worked out many of them became very poor and hardly able to make a living, the majority finally returning again to the sea.