197The political situation was fruitful of much idle discussion also. California had not been formally placed on any footing whatever by the United States Congress. Whatever any community did in the way of legislation or regulation was extra-legal and subject to ratification. I have heard grave discussions as to whether even murder could be considered a crime, since in this no-man’s land there was no real law forbidding it!
A good many Chinese drifted in about this time, and established a camp of their own a short distance downstream. We took some pride in them as curiosities, with their queer, thatchlike hats, their loose blue clothing, their pigtails wound tight around their heads, and their queer yellow faces. They were an unobtrusive people, scratching away patiently, though spasmodically, on the surface of the ground. We sometimes strolled down to see them. They were very hospitable, and pleased at the interest they excited.
We made from fourteen to seventeen ounces of gold dust a day for some weeks, working our two cradles something like eight hours a day. With gold at the then current rate of fourteen dollars an ounce this was a good return, and we were quite happy. Besides, we were always hoping for a big strike. One day, as I was in the very act of turning my shovelful of dirt into the cradle, my eye caught a dull gleam. I instantly deflected the motion to dump the dirt on the stones alongside, fished about, and dug out a nugget that weighed three and three-quarter ounces. This was by far the largest single nugget found in these diggings–for most of the gold here came in flakes–and it attracted much attention. It belonged to me, 198 individually, because I had not yet dumped it into the cradle.
About this time we had to come to some sort of a decision, for our provisions were about exhausted. We had no desire to replenish our stock from that of the local storekeeper. We were doing pretty well in the diggings, but we had also fairly healthy appetites, and I am convinced that at the prices that man charged we should have no more than kept even. Williams, the storekeeper, was levying double profits, one from us, and one from the overland immigrants. Don Gaspar proposed we send out Vasquez with all the horses to restock at Sutter’s Fort. We were a trifle doubtful as to whether Vasquez would ever come back, but Don Gaspar seemed to have confidence in his man. Finally, though a little doubtfully, we came to the plan. Don Gaspar sent out also to McClellan for safekeeping his accumulations of gold dust; but we did not go quite that far. In view of probable high prices we entrusted him with eighteen ounces for the purchase of goods.
While he was away we came to another decision. It had been for some weeks preparing. The diggings were becoming overcrowded. Almost every foot of the bar was occupied, and more men were coming in every day. No longer could the newcomer be sure of his colour the afternoon of his arrival; but was forced to prospect here and there up and down the river until he found a patch of the pay dirt. Most trusted simply to luck, but some had systems on which they worked. I have seen divining rods used. The believers in chance seemed to do as well as any one else.
199But, also, our own yield was decreasing. The last week we had gained only nineteen ounces all told. This might be merely a lean bit of misfortune, or it might mean that we had taken the best from our ten claims. Since the human mind is prone to changes, we inclined to the latter theory. We were getting restless. No miner ever came to California who did not believe firmly that he would have done much better had he come out one voyage earlier; and no miner ever found diggings so rich that he had not a sneaking suspicion that he could do even better “a little farther on.”
Our restlessness was further increased by the fact that we were now seeing a good deal of Sam Bagsby, the hunter. He and Yank had found much in common, and forgathered of evenings before our campfire.
Bagsby was a man of over fifty, tall and straight as a youngster, with a short white beard, a gray eye, and hard, tanned flesh. He was a typical Rocky Mountain man, wearing even in the hottest weather his fur cap with the tail hanging behind, his deerskin moccasins, and his fringed buckskin hunting shirt. Mining possessed no interest for him whatever. He was by profession a trapper, and he had crossed the plains a half-dozen times.
“No mining for me!” he stated emphatically. “I paddled around after the stuff for a while, till my hands swelled up like p’ison, and my back creaked like a frozen pine tree in the wind. Then I quit, and I stayed quit. I’m a hunter; and I’m makin’ a good livin’, because I ain’t very particular on how I live.”
He and Yank smoked interminable pipes, and swapped 200 yarns. Johnny and I liked nothing better than to keep quiet and listen to them. Bagsby had come out with Captain Sutter; and told of that doughty soldier’s early skirmishes with the Indians. His tales of the mountains, the plains, and the game and Indians were so much romance to us; and we both wished heartily that fate could have allowed us a chance at such adventures.