THE STORY OF

Sam Willett's Adventures on the Great

Colorado of the West.

By ALFRED R. CALHOUN,

Author of

"Cochise," "Excelsior," "The Californians," etc., etc.

ILLUSTRATED.

NEW YORK:

A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER.

Copyright 1888, by A. L. Burt.

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Sam succeeded in guiding the raft to a ledge of sloping rocks.

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CONTENTS

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LOST IN THE CAÑON.

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[CHAPTER I.—A REMARKABLE CAMP.]

The scene of this narrative is laid in Southwestern Colorado, and the date is so recent that boys living out there at that time are only just beginning to think themselves young men—and it is really astonishing how soon boys leap into vigorous manhood in that wild, free land.

"We's 'bleeged to hab 'im, for dah ain't de least scrap ob meat in de camp!"

This stirring information was shouted by a stout negro boy of fifteen or sixteen years of age, who, with a long, rusty, single-barrel shot-gun in his arms, stood at the base of a towering mass of bare rocks, and looked eagerly up at two other youths creeping along the giddy heights, and evidently in eager search of something that had escaped them, but which they were determined to overtake.

The lithe form, long black hair, and copper-colored skin of one of the young hunters bespoke him an Indian of the purest type. He wore a close-fitting buckskin dress, and slung at his back was a short repeating rifle.

The other youth up the rocks, though bronzed on the hands and face to a color as dark as the young Ute's, had the blue eyes and curly yellow hair that told of a pure white ancestry. His name was Samuel Willett, and though not much more than sixteen years of age, his taller form and more athletic build made him look several years the senior of his red and black companions.

Sam Willett was armed and dressed like a hunter, and his well-worn equipments told that he was not out masquerading in the costume of a theatrical Nimrod.

The Indian youth, Ulna, and Sam Willett had chased a Rocky Mountain or bighorn sheep into the mass of towering rocks which they were now searching; and that they were not hunting for mere sport was proven by Ike, the black boy's repeated cry:

"We's 'bleeged to hab 'im, foh dar ain't de least scrap ob meat in de camp!"

"I want to get the meat as much as you do, Ike, so have patience!" Sam shouted down, without stopping in his pursuit an instant.

The two daring hunters disappeared, and Ike, whose desire for meat was greater than his love for the chase, began circling about the confused pile of rocks so as to keep his companions in sight.

The bighorn "sheep" is in reality not a sheep at all, but a variety of powerful mountain antelope, whose strength, speed and daring among the rocks and cañons are not the least wonderful things about the wonderful land in which he makes his exclusive home.

Even old Western hunters believe that these animals can leap from immense heights and land on their horns without harm, but this is an error.

While Ike was gazing with eager eyes and open mouth at the towering, volcanic cliffs, the bighorn came to view on a rock five hundred feet overhead.

The hunters were close behind, and the creature's only means of escape was to leap across a chasm fully thirty feet wide to another rock of a little lower elevation.

"Shoot! shoot!" yelled the excited Ike, as the bighorn gathered himself up and eyed the terrific gorge that beset his course.

As if stung to desperation by the shout the creature leaped forward with a force that must have cleared the gulf, and an accuracy that would have insured a landing on the other side, but just as it sprang into mid-air two shots rang out within a small fraction of a second of each other, and the bighorn came crashing down and fell dead at the black boy's feet.

In his wild excitement Ike discharged the rusty single-barrel shot-gun, which he had been hugging in his arms as if it were a baby. All the power of the old-fashioned weapon must have been in the report and recoil, for the former sounded like the explosion of a howitzer, and the latter was so terrific as to send the holder sprawling across the carcass of the bighorn.

Sam Willett saw all this as he hurried down the rocks, otherwise he might have thought when he had reached the bottom that the animal had fallen on his companion and faithful servant and killed him.

"Hello, Ike, old fellow, what's up?" asked Sam, as he helped the owner of the shot-gun to his feet.

"Is I all alive, foh shuah, Mistah Sam?" demanded Ike, as he stared wildly about him.

"Of course you are, and here is the meat you have been so eager for," said Sam.

"Wa'll, Mistah Sam, it's dat ar gun," said Ike, gazing sadly at the old weapon which he still held in his arms. "I ain't used her bad; ain't fired her off for more'n six months afore we kem out har from Michigan—dat's five months ago—an' now only to tink she's done gone back on me in dat are way."

The Indian youth, Ulna, had come down by this time, and when he took in the situation his fine, almost effeminate face was wreathed in smiles, that displayed a beautiful set of white teeth.

In a low, musical voice and without any accent, he said in excellent English:

"The sun is setting and we must hurry if we would reach the camp before dark."

"An' more partikler ez we've got to tote dis ar venizon home," said Ike, now wide awake to the necessities of the situation.

Each of the youths had a hunting knife in his belt, and they soon proved that these weapons were not carried for ornament.

With a rapidity and skill that would have won the admiration of an eastern butcher, they skinned and cleaned the animal, severed the mammoth head and then divided the meat into three parcels.

Each had to shoulder about fifty pounds, but being sturdy, healthy young fellows they did not seem to mind their burdens, as they started off with long, vigorous strides toward the west.

The sun in all his course does not look down on a wilder, grander or more desolate land than that which met the gaze of the young hunters, no matter to which side they turned.

Verdureless mountains of fantastic shapes rose into the cloudless sky on every hand.

Here and there in the crevices of the black volcanic rocks, over which they hurried, a stunted sagebush or a dwarf cactus suggested the awful barrenness of the place rather than told of vegetation.

They were in the land of cañons and drought, on the summit of the Great American Plateau where rain but seldom falls, where the streams flow through frightful gorges, and where men and animals have often perished from thirst within sight of waters which they could not reach.

Bleak and sublime as the land was, is, and ever must be, yet the belief—a well founded belief by the way—that its gloomy ravines contained gold, led hundreds of hardy miners and adventurers to look upon it as that El Dorado for which the early Spanish explorers in these wilds had sought in vain.

As the leader of the little party, Sam Willett, strode ahead, the deepening shadows of the mountains impelled him each instant to a quicker pace.

There was no apparent trail, yet Sam never hesitated in his course, but kept on as unerringly as a bird of passage, till he came to a great black rift that seemed to suddenly open at his feet.

Away down in the shadowy depths he could see a white band that told of moving water.

A glow, the source of which could not be seen, indicated a fire down near the base of the cliff, and the barking of a dog—the sound appeared to come from the depths of a cave—suggested a human habitation.

On reaching the crest of the chasm Sam Willett did not hesitate, but at once plunged down to what, to a stranger, would appear certain death.

Along the cañon wall there was a steep but well constructed trail that afforded secure footing to a traveler who was not troubled with giddiness.

Without once stopping, Sam and his companions made their way to the bottom of the rift and forded the roaring torrent that thundered over its uneven bed.

On the cañon wall, opposite to that by which they had descended, they saw about a hundred feet above the stream, what seemed like a number of illuminated pigeon holes. This was their home, the place to which had been given the not inappropriate name of "Gold Cave Camp."

With barks of delight, a big dog met them near the water and joyously escorted them up the other side to an irregular plateau, about a hundred feet in diameter, that shot out like the once famous Table Rock at Niagara.

This plateau was in front of the cave, in which the miners had made their home.

The background of light revealed the forms of three men. The dress and long cue of one bespoke him a Chinaman, the second was dressed like a hunter, and the third, a tall, powerful figure, had only his heavy beard and striking stature to distinguish him.

"Is that you, Sam?" called out the tall man, as the foremost of the party reached the plateau.

"Yes, father," was the reply, "and we have brought back some meat."

"Wa'll!" exclaimed the second man, "I didn't think thar was a pound of live meat left within twenty mile of yar."

"Hoolay! Bully! Now me gettee suppel!" cried the excited Chinaman, who was known by the fitting name of Wah Shin.

Preceded by Maj, the dog, Sam and his fellow hunters entered the remarkable cave—of which we shall speak hereafter—and laid the meat on the floor.

"I began to grow uneasy about you, my boy," said Mr. Willett, as he fondly kissed his son, "meat is very desirable, but I would rather suffer for it than be worried at your absence."

Sam explained about the delay in the hunt, and then went to a spring that rose from the floor of the cave close to the fire, and here he set the example of drinking and washing himself.

Meanwhile Wah Shin began to demonstrate his position in that strangely mixed company. In nearly no time he had steaks broiling on the coals, the savory odor of which made Hank Tims, the old guide, take long inhalations with great enjoyment.

Apart from meat there was an abundance of other food in this strange camp, so that in a very short time Wah Shin, with Ike's aid, had a most excellent supper spread on a table consisting of two roughly-hewn cedar slabs, supported at either end by a square stationary stone, that had been placed there by the original but unknown cave dwellers.

[CHAPTER II.—LOOKING BACKWARD AND FORWARD.]

It is not a little remarkable that the six dwellers in Gold Cave Camp should represent four of the five types into which scientists divide the human race, but this though curious in itself, is not nearly so much so as their being residents of this sparsely settled wilderness, and living, as it were, in caves in the depths of the earth.

Mr. Willett had been a merchant in Detroit, Michigan, where his only child, Sam, was born.

He had been very happy in his married life and very prosperous in his business; but, alas, for the stability of human affairs, his wife died. Following this awful calamity came a series of reverses in business which no human foresight could prevent. His property was swept away, and in his fortieth year he found himself a poor man, with a son to educate and care for and all life's battle to fight over again.

Mr. Willett had been educated as a mining engineer, and though he had never followed his profession he, very naturally, looked to it as a means of support when all his other resources were gone.

In the days of his great distress and perplexity he read of sudden fortunes being made in the newly-discovered gold fields of the San Juan country in Southwestern Colorado, and thither he determined to go.

Although still in the prime of life, Mr. Willett concentrated all the love of his brave heart on his son and resolved to devote his time and thought to his care and education.

Sam's maternal grandfather, Mr. Shirley, was a very rich, but a very morose and eccentric old man, who chose never to become reconciled to his daughter's marriage to Mr. Willett. But when Sam's mother died, the old gentleman offered to adopt his grandson and make him his sole heir, if the father would consent to renounce all claims to him.

In his son's interest Mr. Willett might have considered this proposal favorably had not Sam himself upset the scheme by saying stoutly:

"Father, do not ask me to leave you, for I feel it would be sending me to death. If you go to the West, I shall go with you. There are only two of us left, why should we be parted?"

Mr. Willett replied to this query by kissing his son, and so it was settled that they should go to the West together.

Ike was an orphan lad who, in some inexplicable way, had drifted up to Michigan from Kentucky. Mr. Willett found and cared for the boy, and he repaid this generosity by a fidelity and devotion worthy of all praise.

Mr. Willett could see no use for Ike in the West, but when the time for departure came, the black boy appeared at the depot with an old hunting bag, containing all his clothing, slung at his back, and a remarkable-looking shot-gun folded in his arms.

"Dar's no use a talkin' to me, boss," he said to Mr. Willett, when that gentleman expressed his surprise at the boy's appearance. "Ize bound to go 'long wid Mistah Sam. Oh, don't yeh feel skeat 'bout de cash foh de passage. Ize got ebery cent I ever earned stored away har; its more'n fifty dollar, an' I'll foot de bills till de las' red cent's gone."

In proof of this bold statement, Ike drew from the depths of his trousers' pockets a bag containing several pounds weight of bronze, nickel and silver coins.

Ike found an eloquent advocate in Sam; and so it came about that at the very last moment Mr. Willett decided to take the colored boy with him, though he could not be made to avail himself of the generous fellow's hoardings.

The three went to Denver, thence over the Rocky range to St. Luis Park, and over the Sierra Madre mountains to the San Juan country.

They had procured horses to ride on, and two pack mules to carry their supplies and mining tools.

While at Port Garland in the St. Luis Park, they met with Hank Tims and the Ute boy, Ulna, who was a nephew of the great chief Uray, whom the writer of this narrative knew very well and greatly admired.

Hank Tims and Ulna were themselves thinking about going into the San Juan country, and, as they were well acquainted with that region and appeared to take to Mr. Willett's party at once, they were readily induced to join his expedition.

It would be out of place in this brief but essential review to recount all the adventures that beset our friends till they reached the scene of their proposed labors.

After much wandering, they found Gold Cave Camp, but it was in the possession of a wild, dissolute fellow named Tom Edwards.

As Edwards was working his claim all alone and was eager to leave it, Mr. Willett bought him out at his own price, and at once made preparations to pan for such gold as might be found in the bed of the cañon.

A few days after the commencement of operations, Wah Shin appeared in the camp.

He looked as if he had been blown in from the bleak hills, but he managed to explain in his broken English that he had lost himself coming up from Santa Fe, and that he was a first-class cook.

He asked for "a job," but even before Mr. Willett had made up his mind to hire him, he set to work to give an exhibition of his skill; and the result was so entirely satisfactory that he was retained on his own terms.

But it is much easier to explain the presence of these people than it is to account for the strange home in which they lived.

Learned men claim that long before the coming of the white men to this continent, long, indeed, before the coming of the Indians, that there was a strange race of people in that Western land, whom, for the want of a better name, they call "The Cave Dwellers."

But no matter how formed, or by whom they were first inhabited, these caves—they are quite common in that land—made ready and comfortable homes for the mining adventurers.

Those occupied by Mr. Willett and his associates, consisted of a series of eight apartments, all opening on the plateau and all connected by passage ways that must have been the work of human hands.

The apartments were circular in shape, and the largest, which was used as a kitchen and general store room, was about twenty feet in diameter and ten feet in height.

As before stated there was an ample spring of delicious cool water in this apartment, and the original hewers of the caves, no doubt, selected the place on this account.

After a hearty supper, Mr. Willett and Hank Tims lit their pipes and sat before the fire, for though the days are warm in this land the nights are unusually cool.

Drift wood, picked up from the crevices of the rocks in which it had been lodged by floods caused by the melting of snow in the mountains, constituted the fuel of the camp, and the great pile near the fire showed that it was to be had in abundance.

All had been working hard that day, so after a desultory talk about the great success that was meeting their search for gold, they lay down on their blanket cots in the other apartments and went to sleep—that is, all but Sam and his father.

Mr. Willett and his son slept together in the nearest room, but though they lay down side by side they did not go to sleep at once.

"Sam," said Mr. Willett in a troubled voice, "since you left this morning that fellow, Tom Edwards, has been here again."

"What did he want?" asked Sam.

"He appeared to be drunk, and he threatened to kill me if I did not give him more money."

"But you have paid him the price agreed on?"

"Yes."

"Then I should not heed him."

"Still, I am afraid he will cause me trouble, so, to-morrow, I will ride over to Hurley's Gulch and consult a lawyer, and as that is our nearest market and post-office, I will take Hank and Ulna along with two pack mules so as to carry back supplies."

"That is forty miles away, so that you will be gone several days. But if you must go, father, I will do the best I can while you are absent," said Sam, laying his hand soothingly on his father's broad breast.

"I know you will, my boy, but there is another matter I wished to speak with you about."

"What is that, father?"

"Why, this Tom Edwards brought me a letter from your grandfather's lawyer in Michigan. It tells me that the old man is dead, and that in his will he leaves all his property to you, but you are not to have a cent of it till you are twenty-one years of age——"

"Four years and a half, dear father!" cried the excited Sam.

"But," continued Mr. Willett, "the will further says that if you should die in the meantime that the property is to go to your grandfather's nephew, Frank Shirley."

"A bad, disreputable man to whom neither you nor mother would speak," said Sam.

"He is all that, I fear, and it troubles me to learn from Edwards that Frank Shirley has recently come into this land," said Mr. Willett.

[CHAPTER III.—SAM'S TRIALS BEGIN.]

While daylight was flooding the upper world next morning, and the shadows were lifting from the gloomy depths of the cañon, the modern cave dwellers ate their breakfast.

About three hundred yards above the caves the cañon widened out into a valley some three hundred yards in diameter. The bottom of this valley was covered with rich grass, and in it was a grove of cotton-wood trees whose bright verdure gave the place the appearance of a rich emerald gem in a mighty setting of granite.

In this valley the horses and pack mules were kept, and, as they had but little to do, they might be said to "live in clover."

While it was still dusky in these depths, though the glimpses of far-off ruddy mountain peaks told that the sun was rising in the upper world, Sam and Ike, who were hardly ever apart, went up to the valley and soon returned with three horses and two mules, the latter were to carry back the necessary supplies from Hurley's Gulch.

It had been Mr. Willett's custom to make this trip once a month, so that his going now was not an unusual event, yet his face showed that he was much dejected, as if he had a premonition of the awful calamity that was so soon to come upon himself and his beloved boy.

His last words, as he kissed Sam, were:

"If anything should happen to detain me longer than four days, I will send a letter back by Ulna."

"But we'll be back on time," joined in Hank Tims, "for I don't like crowds, an', then, we've struck pay dirt rich up at the head of the valley, an' I'm just a spilein' to see how it'll pan out to the ind."

Good-bys were said, and Sam, Ike and Wah Shin stood on the plateau before the cave and waved their hats, till the three men had led the animals up the giddy trail and disappeared beyond the towering summit of the cliff.

Under the teaching of his father and Hank Tims, Sam had become a skillful gold miner, that is, so far as panning out the gravel and collecting the gold were concerned.

The fact that he was the prospective heir to a large fortune did not unfit him for work this morning. With Ike he went up to the sluices immediately after his father left, and until the sun was in mid-heaven they worked, shoveling gravel into the cradle and rocking it under the water, and only stopping to pick out the nuggets and yellow dust and scales that rewarded their effort every hour.

By means of an old-fashioned horn, Wah Shin summoned them to dinner. Of the fresh meat he had made pies that would have tempted an invalid's appetite. And, as the boys ate, sitting before the entrance to the cave, the Chinaman's face fairly glowed with delight at the evidence of his excellent cooking.

"Ven'zon pie belly good," chuckled Wah Shin, as he produced a second when the first had vanished. "But man eatee too muchee, den get mebbe sick."

"Dat ar edvice is 'tended foh Mistah Sam," laughed Ike, as he helped himself again. "But vanzon pie an' 'possums are two tings I ain't nebber got my fill ob up to dis time."

Sam heard but did not heed the talk of his companions, for his attention was at the moment attracted to two strange men who were slowly making their way down the trail on the opposite side of the cañon wall.

As there was danger from prowling bands of Indians who had left the reservation, and also from white outlaws who frequently robbed weak mining camps, every one at Gold Cave Camp strapped on a belt, with a knife and pistols in it, as regularly as he pulled on his boots.

Starting to his feet and followed by Ike, Sam went down to the stream, getting there just as the two men reached the bottom.

One of the strangers was a tall, dark-bearded man, with one eye, and the other was a short, yellow-skinned man with a mean expression of face, whom Sam recognized as his cousin, Frank Shirley.

Sam had never spoken to this man, so he did not greet him like an acquaintance now.

Both men were well armed, as is the fashion of the country, and when they came within hailing distance, Frank Shirley called out:

"Hello, young man, is this Mr. Willett's camp?"

"It is, sir," was Sam's reply, as he came to a halt.

"Is Mr. Willett home?"

"He is not."

"Where is he?"

"He has gone to Hurley's Gulch."

"When did he leave?"

"This morning."

"Ah, I'm sorry I missed him. When do you expect him back?"

"In a few days. Won't you come over and have some dinner?" asked Sam, waving his hand in the direction of the plateau, on which Wah Shin was visible.

"Thank you; no. We are going on to Hurley's Gulch, and are in a great hurry," said Frank Shirley, turning and whispering to his companion, who nodded vigorously in response.

"Who shall I say called?" asked Sam, as the two men turned to ascend the trail.

"Friends," was the laconical reply.

"If dem's frien's," said Ike, when the men had gone out of hearing, "den Ize de biggest kind ob a foe."

The conversation of the two men when they reached the top of the cliff proved the black boy's surmise to be correct.

They had left their horses hitched to a rock, and as they prepared to mount, Frank Shirley said to his companion:

"That's the boy, Badger."

"The boy ez stan's atween you an' fortune?" said Badger.

"Yes."

"Wa'll, ain't you hired me to help you clear the way?"

"I have, Badger."

"Good; then let us git rid of the father first, an' then all the rest'll be ez smooth ez ile."

"You will stick to your contract?"

"I'd be a fool if I didn't. You pay expenses an' give me ten thousand dollars to get 'em out of the way. Isn't that it?"

"That's it, Badger," said Frank Shirley, as he mounted and rode along beside his companion.

"That ar boy down thar," said Badger, waving his hand back at the cañon, "ain't no slouch. He'll fight, he will; an' the best way with sich is to give 'em no chance."

"No chance," echoed Frank Shirley, "that's it exactly. And now that we have them parted our opportunity has come."

"Just ez if 'twas made to order," said Badger.

After the men had gone, Sam and Ike went to work again, but the former had lost the cheerfulness that distinguished him in the morning.

He could not get those two men out of his mind, not that he feared their return—indeed, he could not account to himself for the strange feeling of dread that possessed him for the next three days.

While working, on the afternoon of the fourth day since his father's departure, he noticed that the sky had become overcast and that the water in the bed of the stream was rapidly rising.

He and Ike quit work earlier than usual, and they had great difficulty in making their way to the caves through the swollen torrent.

They had hardly reached cover when a terrific storm came up and the cañon became as dark as night, while the roar of the waters and the crashing of the thunder were ceaseless and appalling.

It was about nine o'clock at night, and the three occupants of the cave were sitting with awed faces before the fire, when, to their inexpressible surprise, Ulna, the young Ute, stood dripping before them.

"How did you reach here?" asked Sam, springing to his feet and grasping Ulna's hand.

"I rode till I killed my horse, then I ran for hours. The flood was up, and it is rising, but I managed to swim across——"

"But my father!" interrupted Sam, pleadingly laying his arm on the young Indian's shoulders.

"He and Hank Tims are prisoners at Hurley's Gulch," said Ulna.

"Prisoners."

"Yes, and in the hands of the lynchers who charge them with the murder of Tom Edwards. Here is a letter from your father that will explain all," said Ulna, pulling a damp paper from his pocket and adding, "your testimony is wanted at once to clear the accused; but no man can cross the cañon for a week, and then it will be too late!"

[CHAPTER IV.—A PERILOUS SITUATION.]

Sam Willett had courage and fortitude in no common degree, but the words of Ulna, who stood dripping and panting before him, froze him with a speechless terror.

He took the wet paper from the Indian boy's hand, but for some seconds he had neither the courage nor the strength to open it.

The howling of the wind down the gorge and the hoarse roaring of the maddened waters heightened the terror of the situation.

Wah Shin, though not well versed in English, fully understood the import of Ulna's message, but realizing his own inability to do or to suggest anything, he stood with his lips drawn and his little oblique eyes half closed.

Ike was the only one of the party who did not appear to have lost the power of speech. Taking the letter from Sam's hand, he said:

"Dat ar paper's powahful damp, an' I reckon, Mistah Sam, yeh kin read it bettah if so be I dries it so's it won't fall to pieces."

Ike opened the paper and while he held it before the fire, Ulna briefly explained the situation.

He said that Mr. Willett, Hank Tims and himself reached Hurley's Gulch without any mishap.

They found the rude mining camp in a great state of commotion owing to a robbery and murder that had recently been committed.

The more law-abiding, or rather the more industrious, for there was no organized law in the place, had formed a vigilance committee to hang the next murderer or robber, under the wild sanction of "lynch law."

"Just as soon as we reached Hurley's Gulch," continued Ulna, "we met Tom Edwards, and he was very drunk and very abusive. He shouted to every one he met that Mr. Willett had robbed him, and took Gold Cave Camp from him without paying a cent, though he had promised fifteen hundred dollars."

"Why, the man lies infamously!" interrupted Sam. "I was a witness to Edwards' receipt for the money in full, and I have it here among father's papers."

"And that receipt is what your father must have at once in order to clear him of the charge of robbery and murder," said Ulna.

"Murder!" repeated Sam.

"Yes. Last night Tom Edwards was found dying with a pistol bullet in his breast, and with his last breath he swore to the men who found him that your father and Hank Tims shot him to get rid of paying the money they owed him. The vigilantes at once arrested Mr. Willett and Tom, and they swear they will hang them if they do not prove that Tom Edwards was paid. I saw the money paid myself, but they refuse to take the word of an Indian," said Ulna, with a flash of indignation in his splendid black eyes; then continuing, "but they agreed to let me come here for the paper."

"Heah!" cried Ike, springing from beside the fire, "de lettah's dry enough to read. Let's know w'at Mistah Willett he has to say foh hisself."

Sam took the paper, and kneeling down to get the benefit of the light, he read aloud as follows:

"My Dear Son:—I do not want you to be at all alarmed at my detention. Ulna will explain why neither Tom nor I can return till you have brought us the receipt which Tom Edwards signed when I paid him the money in full for his claim at Gold Cave Camp.

"This receipt you will find among the papers in my saddle-bags. Bring it to me with all speed and leave Ulna back in charge of the camp; it does not matter if the mining ceases till we return.

"I regret to have to tell you that Tom Edwards is dead. He was drunk when he received the shot that killed him, and he accused Hank and me of the crime. If the people here knew us well they would not believe this charge for one instant, but they do not, and so we must wait till we can show the vigilance committee who hold us prisoners, that we could have no motive for, even if we were inclined to do this awful deed.

"I saw Frank Shirley here yesterday afternoon in company with a well-known desperado who goes by the name of 'One-Eyed Badger.' I cannot but think that these two men are at the bottom of this new trouble, but what their reasons can be I cannot even guess; certain it is that I have never done them or any one else a wrong knowingly.

"Do not lose heart, for I have no fear as to the result: only come as soon as you can to your loving father,

"Samuel Willett."

Sam read this over rapidly, then he read it a second time with more deliberation.

"De boss am in a bad fix," groaned Ike, "an' I jest wish I could take his place."

"I shall go to my father at once," said Sam, stoutly.

He went to the saddle-bags, got the necessary papers—the receipt and deed—and placed them securely in the inner breast pocket of his buckskin tunic.

"You no gettee on holse an' lide such night as deez coz it was so muchee stolmy?" said Wah Shin when he saw Sam getting out his saddle, bridle and rifle.

"I must get to Hurley's Gulch before another day," was the resolute reply, "if I have to go there on my hands and knees."

"But you cannot go to-night," protested Ulna. "Come and see the danger."

He took Sam by the arm and led him out to the plateau before the entrance to the cave.

It has been said that it but seldom rains in this land, but when it does the watery torrents come down with a continued fury, of which the dwellers in more favored climes can have only the faintest conception.

The bare rocks refuse to absorb the rain as it falls, and so the ever-accumulating waters sweep into the cañons and fill the narrow beds between the precipitous banks with wild torrents, that must be once seen before an adequate idea can be formed of the tremendous and seemingly irresistible power of water in action.

The four occupants of the caves, all fine types of four human races, went out to the plateau.

The light, streaming through the cave opening, cut across the inky blackness of the cañon like a solid yellow shaft, that made the surrounding darkness more impenetrable.

Laden with sheets rather than drops of rain, the wind swept down the ravine with a force that threatened to tear the observers from the rocks and hurl them into the seething torrent.

"Before this time," said Ulna, speaking with the calmness that distinguished all he said, "the valley is flooded and the horses up there are drowned."

Sam shuddered but made no reply.

He went back to the cave, secured a lighted brand, and, returning to the edge of the plateau, he dropped it over.

It went hissing down. If the current were as low as the day before it should have fallen sheer down for a hundred feet, but before going half that distance, it lit up an expanse of water white with foam, and was extinguished.

The result of this experiment brought Sam's heart to his mouth, and he could not have uttered a word if the life of the father he so well loved depended on it.

"If she keeps on a-climbin' up dat way," groaned Ike, "de watah'll be nigh into de cave by mawnin'."

Sam now recalled that he had found drift-wood lodged in the crevices of the rocks, even higher than the entrances to the cave, and from this he inferred that at the highest water no one could stay in the cave and live.

Maj, the fine setter dog, had been moaning beside the fire all the evening, but now he came out and crouched at his young master's feet, as if his instinct told him of the danger and that he wanted protection.

Fearing that the poor horses were gone, and well knowing that it would be madness to attempt to cross the cañon that night, Sam turned sadly to his companions and said:

"We can do nothing till daylight comes. Let us get in out of the storm."

They returned to the cave and silently sat down on the stones that had been placed for seats near the fire.

It was a most trying situation.

Even if Mr. Willett and Hank Tims had been safely there in the cave, the ever-increasing storm and the possibility, or rather the certainty of its danger if it continued would have been sufficient to drive sleep from the eyes of all.

But Sam Willett, brave, unselfish youth that he was, gave no thought to the peril of his own surroundings.

With his chin resting between his up-turned palms, he looked steadily at the dying fire without seeing it.

His heart and his thoughts were ever with his sorely-tried father at Hurley's Gulch, and he groaned as he read in the beating of the storm the edict that might bar his going to the rescue.

But though unmindful of himself, it was not in Sam's nature to neglect the comfort of others.

"Lie down, all of you," he said to his companions, "and I will stand guard till daylight comes."

After a weak protest, Wah Shin, Ulna and Ike brought in their blankets and lay down before the fire.

Ike pretended that he did not want to sleep, but, after an attempt at desultory talk, his eyes closed and he soon became oblivious to his surroundings.

Maj continued to be restless and frightened. Now and then, as if to judge for himself how the storm was getting on, he would go to the cave opening, and, after whining in a pained way for some seconds, he would come back and crouch down near the fire with his nose resting on his young master's knees.

To sorrow-stricken Sam Willett that night seemed like an eternity of darkness.

He was beginning to feel that the storm had destroyed the sun, when the grey light of another day began to creep slowly into the cave.

[CHAPTER V.—AT HURLEY'S GULCH.]

Hurley's Gulch, though subsequently called "Hurley City," has no right on the map if it ever had a place there, for, like many other more ambitious and important cities, it has ceased to be the abode of man and returned to its original state of barrenness and desolation.

It was at this time a mining camp that had sprung up in a night, as it were, when a man named Hurley—after whom the place was named—had discovered gold in a little creek near the spot that so suddenly became the site of busy mining life.

Though less than six months old and destined not to survive a second birthday, Hurley's Gulch had nearly a thousand inhabitants, with stores, saloons, assay offices, hotels and all the business establishments that characterize such places.

There were a few women in the camp and a sprinkling of Indians, Negroes and Mexicans, but the great mass of the inhabitants were miners, rough in appearance and even rougher in speech.

A more picturesque and novel settlement than Hurley's Gulch it would be impossible to find outside the peculiar mining camps of the West.

Two little streaks of grass could be found growing beside the creek on the bluff above which the camp had been established; but beyond this there was hardly a sign of vegetation in sight.

All about the place, far as the eye could reach, was a tempest-tossed expanse of dry, glistening rocks.

As there was neither timber for building nor material for bricks, the dwellings, stores, saloons, hotels and offices were necessarily of canvas.

The tents were pitched here and there irregularly, and as all of them had seen hard service in other mining camps and "cities," their general appearance was patched and dilapidated in the extreme.

The great majority of the men at Hurley's Gulch were industrious miners; but as vultures hover over the track of an army in the field and wolves follow up a buffalo herd to prey upon the weakest, so crowds of well-dressed gamblers and red-faced whisky sellers swarm in prosperous mining camps to plunder and demoralize.

Hurley's Gulch had more than its share of these wicked fellows, and as there was not the shadow of law there to defend the weak, every man went armed as a matter of course.

Until law officers can be elected or appointed and courts of justice established in such camps, it is the custom of the more industrious and peaceable to form what they call "vigilance committees" for their own protection.

It need not be said that, no matter how well-meaning the purpose, many men, themselves criminals, get on such committees, and that great wrong is often done to the innocent by these rude efforts to do justice.

Mr. Willett's was a case in point.

A few days before he had come over this last time to Hurley's Gulch, a hard-working miner had been killed and robbed of the gold-dust which he had patiently panned out from the bed of the stream.

This crime made the miners angry, and they held an indignation meeting after the poor man's funeral, and organized a committee to ferret out and punish the criminals.

As there was no jail in which to detain those guilty of lighter offences, there was only one penalty in the code of the vigilantes, and that was death!

Tom Edwards had not been a favorite with the better class of men at Hurley's Gulch.

In his opinion money was made for the sole purpose of gambling away and getting drunk on.

It was generally believed that he had been paid for his claim at Gold Cave Camp by Mr. Willett, so that many who heard him declare to the contrary and say that he had sold on credit, placed no faith in his word.

But when Tom Edwards was found dying the night before Mr. Willett was to have left the Gulch, his past falsehoods were forgotten in view of the nearness of his end and the calmest were inclined to believe him.

It was well known that hot words had passed that very day between Mr. Willett and Tom Edwards, and this afforded to many a reason for the act.

It was pitchy dark when the wretched man was shot, and he was very drunk at the time, so that when his wound restored him, for a short time, to his senses, there can be no doubt but he was honest in the belief that "two men," Mr. Willett and Hank Tims were the guilty parties.

The accused men were at once arrested by the vigilance committee and placed under guard in a tent.

Both protested their innocence, as well they might, and Mr. Willett asked to be permitted to send to his camp for papers that would prove to all that he had paid Tom Edwards in full the price at which he valued his claim.

A few men were inclined to believe Mr. Willett, but to set all doubts at rest, it was decided that further action should be postponed in the case till the receipt of the money and the deed of sale had been procured.

The next morning Ulna was dispatched on this mission, and we have seen the fidelity with which he performed the duty and the unexpected obstacles that prevented the return of the accused man's son with the papers.

There were two men at Hurley's Gulch at this time who, if they had chosen, could have set at rest all doubts as to the mystery surrounding Tom Edwards' death and handed over the guilty parties to the vigilantes; but as this act would have resulted in their own swift destruction, they kept their awful secret to themselves.

These men were Frank Shirley and the outlaw Badger.

Frank Shirley believed, and with reason, that if Sam Willett was out of the way, the last bar between him and a great fortune would be down.

He was a dissolute, thriftless fellow, every faculty of whose low mind seemed to have been concentrated into the one mean gift of cunning.

On the way from Gold Cave Camp to Hurley's Gulch, Frank Shirley and the man whom he had hired to help him in his wicked purpose, discussed the situation from every point of view.

The first thing they decided on was that Mr. Willett and his son must be prevented from ever meeting again, but they did not agree so readily as to how this was to be done.

More bluff, and possibly more brutal than his employer, Badger urged that he be allowed to waylay Mr. Willett and kill him on his return.

But Frank Shirley opposed this, saying, for he was a coward at heart, as all such men are:

"Willett will have with him the Indian boy and the old hunter, Hank Tims; they are all well-armed, and they would be stronger than us. No, Badger, we must hit upon some plan that has less risk in it."

"Wa'al," responded Badger, "hit upon the plan yersel', an' if I don't carry it out without flinchin', I'll give you leave to shoot me down like a dog."

When these men reached Hurley's Gulch they found Edwards "drunk as usual," and loudly declaring wherever he went that Mr. Willett was trying to rob him out of fifteen hundred dollars.

Here was the very chance for which Frank Shirley had been looking.

If he could have Edwards put out of the way, in such a manner as to fasten the crime on Mr. Willett, a hundred stronger and braver men would be ready to accomplish his purpose with their own hands.

He told Badger of his scheme, and that creature, without a moment's thought of the awful crime he was about to commit, pledged himself to carry it out when the other gave the word.

To add to the evidence against Mr. Willett, as that gentleman was arrested, Frank Shirley appeared to be very much cast down.

With tears in his eyes, he explained to the many who were only too eager to listen, that Mr. Willett had married his, Shirley's, cousin, that he had borne a bad character in Detroit, and that he had recently fled from that city to escape the consequences of his many crimes.

[CHAPTER VI.—WHY THE PAPERS WERE NOT BROUGHT.]

Before awaking his companions, all of whom seemed to be sleeping heavily, Sam went out to see if the flood in the cañon had risen.

He ventured but a few yards beyond the entrance to the cave, for the sight that met his eyes appalled him.

The rain was still pouring down in torrents, and the flood had risen till it was nearly on a level with the plateau.

"Three feet more and it will be into the cave," he said, speaking aloud.

"Watel littee mole high up no cannee stay, mus' allee die if no can swimmee," said a voice behind Sam.

There was no need to ask whose it was.

Wah Shin, with thoughts of breakfast in his mind, had got up, but first he decided to satisfy himself of the condition of affairs outside.

"Yes, Wah Shin," said Sam, without turning his head, "even as I look at the flood it appears to be rising."

"If it come mole up, wat we allee do?"

"I don't know."

"No cannee stop dis place?"

"I fear not."