First Fam'lies of the Sierras

by Joaquin Miller

Then the Coroner, as in duty bound, or, as he expressed it, "as required by the law in such cases made and provided," directed his attentions to a search for the buried treasure.

Yeast-powder boxes, oyster-cans, and sardine-boxes, old boots and quicksilver tanks, were carried out to the light and inspected, without results. "In the straw of the bunk," said the Coroner;—and blankets, bunk, and straw were carried out to the sun; but not an ounce of gold.

To make sure against intrusion of the ill-disposed, the unwearied Coroner slept on the spot. The next day the hearth was taken up carefully, piece by piece, but only crickets clad in black, and little pink-eyed mice met the eager eyes of the men. At last some one suggested that as the hard-baked earthen floor was the last place in which one would look for hidden treasures, that was probably the first and only place in which the Gopher had buried his gold.

The thought made the Coroner enthusiastic. He sent for picks, and, if we must tell the truth, and the whole truth, he sent for whisky also. By sunset the entire earthen floor had been dug to the depth of many feet, and emptied outside the door. Not a farthing's-worth of gold was found. The next day the chimney was taken down.

Lizards, dust of adobes, but nothing more. About this time, the memory of the man just taken to the hill was held in but little respect, and a good or bad name, so far as the over-zealous Coroner was concerned, depended entirely on the final results of the search.

But one more thing remained to be done; that was, to remove the cabin. Shingle by shingle, log by log, the structure was levelled. Wood-rats, kangaroo-mice, horned toads, a rattlesnake or two that had gone into winter-quarters under the great logs, and that was all. Not an ounce of gold was found in the last cabin of the Missouri camp.

The flat was then staked off as mining-ground by some enterprising strangers, and they began in the center to sluice it to the bed-rock. They sluiced up the gulch for a month, and then down the gulch for a month, until the whole hill-side was scalped, as it were, to the bone, and the treasure-hunters were bankrupt, but not even so much as the color of the dead man's gold was found.

The Forks was disgusted, and the Gopher was voted a worse man dead than living.

It began to be noticed, however, that Baboon had mended somewhat in his personal appearance since the death of the Gopher, and it was whispered that he knew where the treasure was.

Some even went so far as to say that he had the whole sum of it in his possession. "Some of these nights he'll come up a-missing," said the butcher, striking savagely at his steel across his block. In justice to The Forks it must be observed she was not without grounds to go upon in her suspicions. For was not Baboon near the man at his death? And if he could get his dog, why not get his gold also?