They were indeed too late to succour the poor creatures who had placed the scrap of paper on the summit of that mountain-ridge, in the faint hope that friendly hands might discover it in time.
Six dead forms lay at the foot of the oak, side by side, with their pale faces turned upwards, and the expression of extreme suffering still lingering on their shrunken features. It needed no living witness to tell their sad history. The skeletons of oxen, the broken cart, the scattered mining tools, and the empty provision casks, shewed clearly enough that they were emigrants who had left their homesteads in the States, and tried to reach the gold-regions of California by the terrible overland journey. They had lost their way among the dreary fastnesses of the mountains, travelled far from the right road to the mines, and perished at last of exhaustion and hunger on the very borders of the golden land. The grey-haired father of the family lay beside a young girl, with his arm clasped round her neck. Two younger men also lay near them, one lying as if, in dying, he had sought to afford support to the other. The bodies were still fresh, and a glance shewed that nearly all of them were of one family.
“Alas! Ned, had we arrived a few days sooner we might have saved them,” said Tom.
“I think they must have been freed from their pains and sorrows here more than a week since,” replied the other, fastening his horse to a tree, and proceeding to search the clothes of the unfortunates for letters or anything that might afford a clue to their identity. “We must stay here an hour or two, Tom, and bury them.”
No scrap of writing, however, was found—not even a book with a name on it—to tell who the strangers were. With hundreds of others, no doubt, they had left their homes, full of life and hope, to seek their fortunes in the land of gold; but the Director of man’s steps had ordered it otherwise, and their golden dreams had ended with their lives in the unknown wilderness.
The two friends covered the bodies with sand and stones, and, leaving them in their shallow grave, pursued their way; but they had not gone far when a few large drops of rain fell, and the sky became overcast with dark leaden clouds.
“Ned,” said Tom, anxiously, “I fear we shall be caught by the rainy season. It’s awkward being so far from the settlements at such a time.”
“Oh, nonsense! surely you don’t mind a wetting?” cried Ned; “we can push on in spite of rain.”
“Can we?” retorted Tom, with unwonted gravity. “It’s clear that you’ve never seen the rainy season, else you would not speak of it so lightly.”
“Why, man, you seem to have lost pluck all of a sudden; come, cheer up; rain or no rain, I mean to have a good supper, and a good night’s rest; and here is just the spot that will suit us.”