He saw no signs of life about the house. Here and there were to be seen one or two men passing hither and thither, over the hills or among the cattle, but the house itself was as still as death, and the thought once occurred to his mind that, perhaps, the proprietor lay cold and inanimate within those shaded rooms, or, perhaps, Marian herself was stretched in the robes of the tomb.
Jim proposed that they should honor the proprietor of this estate by spending the evening with him, but Inwood objected, and they encamped in an adjoining piece of wood. When everything had been made ready for the night, and the full moon had risen, Inwood left his companions, and sauntered toward the house, his heart throbbing tumultuously with its varied emotions.
As he walked slowly by, he caught the faint notes of the guitar, and heard a low, sweet voice humming a familiar song. He looked in the direction whence it came, and, through the interlacing vines, could faintly detect the form and outline of Marian Underwood. He knew it was her—he recognized the voice, and twice he paused and was about to enter the gate; but he checked himself by a painful effort of the will, and, loitering as long as he dared in the vicinity, he turned on his heel and wandered back.
“When I return, I will call!” was the comforting conclusion he gave himself.
In a few days, by patient traveling and perseverance, they reached the eastern slope of the Coast Range, and found themselves in the San Joaquin Valley, where they intended to prosecute their search for gold. Carrying out their purpose of getting into a region where there was little danger of being disturbed by any of their own race, they followed the slope to the southward, keeping among the mountains, and guarding every movement.
They “prospected” a long time, and suffered at first for want of food, but they soon overcame this difficulty, and prosecuted their search for gold with greater vigor than ever. They had poor fortune for awhile, but they pushed resolutely forward, and finally came upon a small mountain stream, which contained an abundance of the shining particles among its sands.
Here they would have pitched their tent, had they not accidentally discovered a remarkable cave, which answered their purpose so well, that they carried everything within, and at once made it their quarters. Their horses were tethered in a dense grove further down the stream, where they were visited once a day to see that all was well.
They had been here but a few days, when they discovered signs of Indians, and Edwin was put on watch, while the others busied themselves in “making hay while the sun shone.” The young sentinel had been there but a short time, when he descried the troublesome visitors approaching along the slope; and what then and there took place our good readers have already learned.