Digging for Gold: Adventures in California

He caught it with the dexterity of a monkey, and, squatting down on the trunk of a fallen tree, devoured it with the ravenous ferocity of a famishing hyena. The piece of pork would have been a sufficient meal for any ordinary man, but it quickly vanished down the throat of the savage, who licked his fingers, and, with eyes which required no tongue to interpret their meaning, asked for more!

“Look out!” cried Joe Graddy, tossing him a sea biscuit as one throws a quoit.

The Indian caught it deftly; crash went his powerful teeth into the hard mass, and in an incredibly short time it was—with the pork!

The whole party were so highly amused by this, that they “went in,” as Jeffson said, “for an evening’s entertainment.” One tossed the poor man a cut of ham, another a slice of pork, a third a mass of bread, and so they continued to ply him with victuals, determined to test his powers to the uttermost.

“Try another bit of pork,” said Douglas, laughing, as he threw him a cut as large as the first; “you’ve finished all the cooked meat now.”

The Indian caught it eagerly, and began to devour it as though he had eaten nothing.

“He’s tightening up like a drum,” observed Jeffson, handing him a greasy wedge off a raw flitch of bacon.

“Him vill boost,” said Meyer, staring at the Indian and smoking slowly, owing to the strength of his amazement.

“Jack the Giant Killer was a joke to him,” muttered Graddy.

“A bottomless pit,” observed Rance, referring to his stomach.

The Indian, however, proved that Rance was wrong by suddenly coming to a dead halt and dropping the last morsel he was in the act of raising to his mouth. He then heaved a deep sigh and looked round on the whole party with a radiant smile, which was literally sparkling by reason of the firelight which glittered on his greasy countenance.

“What! stuffed full at last?” exclaimed Jeffson, as they all burst into a fit of laughter.

“Ay, chock full to the beams,” said Joe Graddy; “moreover, hatches battened down, topsails shook out, anchor up, and away!”

This was indeed the case. Having eaten as much as he could hold, the poor Indian attempted to rise and walk off, but he suddenly fell down, and rolled about groaning and rubbing himself as if in great agony. The alarmed travellers began to fear that the poor little man had absolutely, as Joe said, eaten himself to death. He recovered, however, in a few minutes, rose again with some difficulty, and went off in the midst of a splendid burst of moonlight which appeared to have come out expressly to light him on his way! His gait was awkward, and he was obliged to sit down every twenty or thirty yards like a man resting under a heavy load. When last seen on his diminutive legs he looked like a huge bloated spider waddling into the obscurity of the forest.

“How disgusting!” perhaps exclaims the reader. True, yet not much more disgusting than the gormandising which goes on among too many civilised men, who, besides possessing better knowledge, have got dyspepsia to inform them that they daily act the part of the Californian savage, while many learned doctors, we believe, tell them that it is not so much quality as quantity that kills.

That eventful night did not terminate, however, with the departure of the Indian. Another scene was enacted, but, unlike the popular mode of theatrical procedure, the farce was followed by a tragedy.

Before lying down to rest, the fire was drawn together, fresh logs were heaped upon it, and a great blaze was made to scare away the wolves. Frank, Jeffson, and Douglas, then rolled themselves in their blankets, and lay down with their feet towards the fire and their rifles beside them. The others lighted their pipes for a finishing whiff—a nightcap as Joe styled it.

They had not sat long thus, making occasional quiet remarks, as fatigued and sleepy men are wont to do before going to rest, when they were startled by the sound of heavy footsteps in the woods. Rance, whose duty it was to keep watch the first part of the night, instantly leaped up and cocked his rifle, while the sleepers awoke, raised themselves on their elbows, and looked about somewhat bewildered.

Before any one had time to act or speak, a man, clad in the flannel shirt, heavy boots, etcetera, of a miner, strode into the circle of light, with the air of one whose intentions are peaceful.

“Evening, strangers,” he said, looking round and setting the butt of a long rifle on the ground; “I’ve got lost. You’ll not object to let me rest a bit by your fire, I daresay—hallo!”

The latter exclamation was uttered when the stranger’s eyes fell on Bradling, who was gazing at him with the expression of a man who had seen a ghost. At the same time the stranger threw forward his rifle, and his countenance became unusually pale.

For two seconds each looked at the other in profound silence, which was only broken by the sharp click of the lock as the stranger cocked his piece.

Like a flash of lightning Bradling plucked a revolver from his belt, pointed full at the man’s breast and fired. He fell without uttering a cry, and his rifle exploded as he went down, but the ball passed harmlessly over the heads of the party.

For a few seconds the travellers stood as if paralysed, and Bradling himself remained motionless, gazing sullenly on his victim. Then Frank Allfrey leaped upon him, and grasping him by the throat wrenched the pistol out of his hand.

“Murderer!” he exclaimed, tightening his hold, as Bradling struggled to release himself.

“I’m no murderer,” gasped Bradling; “you saw as well as I did that the fellow threatened to shoot me. Besides, he is not dead.”

“That’s true,” said Joe Graddy, turning towards the fallen man, whom Rance and some of the others were examining, and who had showed some symptoms of returning consciousness; “but his wound is a bad one, and if you ain’t a murderer yet, pr’aps it won’t be long afore ye are one.”

Hearing this Frank flung Bradling violently off, and turned to examine the wounded man. As he did so the other pointed his pistol deliberately at Frank’s back, fired, and then sprang into the woods. Before he had quite disappeared, however, each man who could seize his gun or pistol in time fired a shot after him, but apparently without effect, for although they examined the bushes carefully afterwards no marks of blood could be found.

Fortunately the miscreant missed Frank, yet so narrowly that the ball had touched his hair as it whistled past his ear.

The wounded man was as carefully tended as was possible in the circumstances, but neither on that night nor the following day did he recover sufficiently to be able to give any account of himself. He was left at the first “ranch” they came to next day, with directions from Frank that he should be cared for and sent back to Sacramento city as soon as possible. Our hero was unable of course to pay his expenses, but he and all the party contributed a small sum, which, with the gold found on the stranger’s person, was sufficient to satisfy the ranchero, who appeared to be a more amiable man than the rest of his class. To secure as far as possible the faithful performance of his duty, Frank earnestly assured him that if he was attentive to the man he would give him something additional on his return from the diggings.

“That’s very good of you, sir,” said the ranchero with a peculiar smile, “but I wouldn’t promise too much if I were you. Mayhap you won’t be able to fulfil it. All gold-diggers don’t make fortunes.”

“Perhaps not,” said Frank; “but few of them, I believe, fail to make enough to pay off their debts.”

“H’m, except those who die,” said the ranchero.

“Well, but I am not going to die,” said Frank with a smile.

“I hope not. All the young and strong ones seem to think as you do when they go up; but I have lived here, off an’ on, since the first rush and all I can say is that I have seen a lot more men go up to the diggin’s than ever I saw come down from ’em; and, of those who did return, more were poor than rich, while very few of ’em looked either as stout or as cheerful as they did when passing up.”

“Come, shut up your potato-trap, old man, and don’t try to take the heart out of us all in that fashion,” said Jeffson; “but let’s have a feed of the best you have in the house, for we’re all alive and kicking as yet, anyhow, and not too poor to pay our way; and, I say, let’s have some home-brewed beer if you can, because we’ve got a German with us, and a haggis also for our Scotchman.”

“You have forgotten roast-beef for the Englishman,” said Frank, laughing.

“I daresay you won’t want sauce,” observed the host with an air of simplicity; “my meat never seems to want it when there’s a Yankee in the room.”

Saying this the worthy ranchero went to work, and speedily supplied the travellers with a meal consisting of hard biscuit and rancid pork, with a glass of bitter brandy to wash it down; for which he charged them the sum of eight shillings a head.

Chapter Five.

The Travellers meet with Indians, and are led to wish that they had not gone seeking for Gold

It was the evening of a hot sultry day, when our travellers, fatigued and foot-sore, arrived at the entrance of a small valley not far distant from the intended scene of their future operations. Here they determined to encamp for the night on the margin of a small stream, where there was grass for the mule and shelter under the trees for the men. On making their way, however, to the place, they observed an Indian village down on a plain below, and, being uncertain as to the numbers or the temper of the natives, they were about to cross the stream and continue their journey a little further, when a party of six Indians suddenly made their appearance in front, and advanced fearlessly, making signs of friendship.

It was found that they understood and could talk a little Spanish, which Rance spoke fluently. After a short conversation, the guide thought that it would be quite safe to stay beside them. The encampment therefore was made, and supper prepared.

While this was in progress Frank and Joe went to the top of a neighbouring mound to survey the village. It was a curious residence for human beings. Joe’s remark that it resembled “a colony of big moles” was not inappropriate, for the huts, of which there were about forty, were not unlike huge mole-hills.

These huts, it was found, they formed by excavating circular holes in the earth, about twelve feet in diameter and four feet deep, then bending over these a number of stout saplings, which they bound together with tendrils of the vine, they formed a dome-shaped roof, which was plastered with a thick coat of clay. An opening in one side of each formed a door, through which entrance could be made by creeping. On the roofs of these curious dwellings many of the natives were seated, evidently awaiting the result of the deputation’s conference with the white men.

The main object that the Indians appeared to have in view was the obtaining of fire-arms, and it was observed that they cast longing eyes upon the rifles which leaned on the trees beside the fire. Rance therefore advised every man to look carefully after his weapons, while he talked with the chief, and told him that he had no guns or ammunition to spare. In order to please him, however, he gave him an old rusty carbine, which was bent in the barrel, and nearly useless, in exchange for a few fresh fish.

“My white brother is liberal,” said the delighted savage in bad Spanish, as he surveyed the weapon with admiration, “but it is necessary to have black powder and balls.”

“I have none to spare,” replied Rance, “but the settlements of the white men are not far off. Besides, the Indian chief is wise. He does not require to be told that white men come here continually, searching for gold, and that they bring much powder and ball with them. Let gold be offered, and both may be obtained.”

The chief took this remark for a hint, and at once offered some gold-dust in exchange for powder and shot, but Rance shook his head, knowing that, if obtained, the ammunition would in all probability be used against himself. The chief was therefore obliged to rest content in the mean time with the harmless weapon.

Meanwhile, another party of seven or eight Indians had gone towards Frank and Joe, and by signs made them to understand that there was something worth shooting on the other side of a cliff not fifty yards off. Our hero and his nautical friend were both of unsuspicious natures, and being much amused by the ludicrous gesticulations of the savages in their efforts to enlighten them, as well as curious to ascertain what it could be that was on the other side of the cliff, they accompanied them in that direction.

The moment they had passed out of sight of the camp a powerful savage leaped on Frank from behind, and, grasping him round the throat with both arms, endeavoured to throw him, while another Indian wrenched the rifle out of his hand. At the same moment Joe Graddy was similarly seized. The savages had, however, underrated the strength of their antagonists. Frank stooped violently forward, almost to the ground, and hurled the Indian completely over his head. At the same time he drew a revolver from his belt, fired at and wounded the other Indian, who dropped the rifle, and doubled like a hare into the bushes. The others fled right and left, as Frank sprang forward and recovered his weapon—all save the one whose unhappy lot it had been to assault Joe Graddy, and who was undergoing rapid strangulation, when Frank ran to his rescue.

“Have mercy on him, Joe!” he cried.

“Marcy! why should I have marcy on such a dirty—lie still, then,” said Joe sternly, as he pressed his knee deeper into the pit of the Indian’s stomach, and compressed his throat with both hands until his tongue protruded, and both eyes seemed about to start from their sockets.

“Come, come, Joe; you volunteered to be my servant, so you are bound to obey me.”

Saying this, Frank seized the angry tar by the collar, and dragged him forcibly off his victim, who, after a gasp or two, rose and limped away.

“He has got quite enough,” continued Frank, “to keep you vividly in his remembrance for the rest of his life, so we must hasten to the camp, for I fear that the Indians won’t remain friendly after this unfortunate affair.”

Grunting out his dissatisfaction pretty freely, Joe accompanied his friend to the camp-fire, where their comrades were found in a state of great alarm about their safety. They had heard the shots and shouts, and were on the point of hastening to the rescue. The chief and his companions, meanwhile, were making earnest protestations that no evil was intended.

When Frank and Joe appeared, Rance turned angrily on the chief, and ordered him and his men to quit the camp instantly. This they hesitated to do for a little, and the chief made fresh efforts to calm the irritated guide, but Rance knew that he had to deal with treacherous men, and repeated his order to be off at the same time throwing forward his rifle in a threatening manner. Whereupon the chief flew into a violent rage, and, after using a good deal of abusive language, returned to his village, where he immediately summoned a council of war, and, by his violent gesticulations and frequent looking and pointing towards the camp, left no doubt on the minds of the travellers as to his intentions.

Rance therefore made the best preparations possible in the circumstances to repel an attack.

Their position was very critical, for the Indians numbered about a hundred men, while their own party consisted only of six. But they had the one great advantage over their enemies—the possession of fire-arms, and felt much confidence in consequence.

“Get out all your weapons, big and little,” said Rance, as he loaded his rifle, “and fire ’em off to begin with. It will show them that we are well prepared.”

Accordingly they commenced letting off their pieces, and what with rifles, double shot-guns, double and single barrelled pistols, and revolvers, they made up the formidable number of fifty-three discharges, which had a very warlike effect when fired in quick and regular succession.

Carrying these in their hands, and disposed round their persons, intermixed with short swords and long bowie-knives, the whole party mounted guard, bristling like human hedge-hogs, and, placed at equal intervals on each side of the camp, marched about for an hour or two, without seeing or hearing anything more of their enemies.

At last their mule became a little restive, putting them on the alert, and shortly afterwards an arrow whizzed past Joe’s ear. He instantly presented his carbine in the direction whence it came, and fired. The shot was answered by a perfect shower of arrows, which pierced the clothes of some of the white men, and slightly wounded Douglas in the left arm, but fortunately did no further damage. The discharge was followed by a quick movement in the bushes, rendered audible by the crushing of dried leaves and breaking of branches. This guided the whites in their aim, and a volley was poured into the bush, followed by several random shots from revolvers.

Soon after all noise was hushed, and a brief examination of the surrounding bushes was made, but it could not be ascertained that any damage had been done to the Indians, who always make it a point, when possible, to carry off their dead to prevent their being scalped—a dishonour they fear almost as much as death.

“Now, one half of us may sleep,” said Rance, when the party was again collected round the fire.

“Sleep!” exclaimed Frank.

“Ay, there’s nothing more to fear from the rascals to-night, if we keep a good look-out—and that may be done as effectively by three of us as by six. If we each get a wink of an hour or two, we shall be quite fit to travel or to fight in the morning. So let me advise you to lose no time about it.—Not badly hurt, sir, I hope?” he added, addressing Douglas.

“Nothing to speak of,” answered the Scot, “only a graze of the skin.”

“Well, get away to rest. You can take the second watch, and it is not likely they will disturb you before morning. If they do, you won’t require to be called, so keep your weapons handy.”

As Rance prophesied, so it turned out. The Indians had got an unexpectedly severe repulse, and did not attempt to interfere with the travellers during the night, but in the morning they were found to have posted themselves on the opposite banks of the stream, evidently with the intention of disputing the further progress of the party.

Nothing now but prompt determination could save them from being cut off by overwhelming numbers, for if they were to hesitate, or waver in the least, the Indians would be encouraged to make an attack. They therefore calmly and deliberately blew up the fire, boiled their kettle and had breakfast, after which the mule was loaded, and the party prepared to cross the stream.

Before doing so, however, Rance and Jeffson, being the best marksmen, advanced to the edge of the bank with two of the largest rifles and took aim at the Indians, hoping by that means to frighten them away without being obliged to shed more blood. In this they failed, for, the distance being fully five hundred yards, the natives evidently believed that it was impossible for a ball to tell at such a distance. On seeing Rance point his rifle at them they set up a yell of derision. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to fire. This Rance did, and one of the Indians fell. Jeffson also fired and hit the chief, who reeled, but did not fall. The savages immediately began a hurried retreat, and the travellers refrained from firing, in order to convince them that all they desired was to be allowed to go on their way unmolested.

The crossing of the stream was then effected. On mounting the opposite bank it was found that the Indians had taken up their position, fully armed, on the top of their huts, with an air of quiet resolution that showed they apprehended an attack, and were prepared to defend their homes to the death.

This, however, they were not called upon to do, for the travellers turned off to the right, and pursued their way as if nothing had happened. But two of the Indians had been badly hit, perhaps killed, and the thought of this dwelt much on the minds of Frank and his friend Joe all that day. Another thing that distressed them much was the well-known custom of the natives to take their revenge at the first favourable opportunity. It was a rule among them to take two lives of white men for every redskin killed, and they were known not to be particular as to who the whites might be,—sufficient for them that they were of the offending and hated race. The fact that the innocent might thus suffer for the guilty was to them a matter of perfect indifference.

The route over which the whites travelled that day chanced to be unusually picturesque and beautiful. The path, or “trail,”—for there was scarcely anything worthy the name of path,—wound through a sycamore and white-oak grove that fringed the river, the sloping banks of which were covered with an infinite variety of shrubs and evergreens, bearing flowers and blossoms of most delicate beauty and exquisite fragrance, amidst which tangled festoons of the indigenous vine drooped with pendant bunches of purple grapes. Arbutus shrubs of immense size were seen, and the landscape was in some places interspersed thickly with manzanita rushes, the crimson berries of which are much in favour with the Indians, also with the grizzly bear! Some of the plains they crossed were studded with magnificent oaks, devoid of underwood, such as one is accustomed to see in noblemen’s parks in England.

But all this beauty and luxuriance made comparatively little impression on Frank and Joe, for they could not forget that human life had probably been sacrificed that day—a thought which filled them with sincere regret that it had ever entered into their hearts to go digging for gold.

Chapter Six.

Arrival at the Gold-Fields, and Lessons in Gold-Washing received

At last Bigbear Gully was reached, and our travellers—especially those of them who, being new to the work, were all enthusiasm—pressed eagerly forward, anxious to begin without delay.

Bigbear Gully—so named because of a huge grizzly bear that had been shot there at the commencement of digging operations—was a wild and somewhat gloomy but picturesque mountain gorge, the first sight of which, with its lights and shadows, stupendous cliffs and clumps of wood clinging to the hill-sides, called forth a burst of delight and admiration from Frank Allfrey, whose mind at once leaped with loving desire to the brush and the colour-box; but as these implements were at that time packed among the baggage on the mule’s back, and as the love of art was not sufficiently strong in the guide to induce him to permit of a moment’s delay in the journey, our hero was fain to content himself with visions of future indulgence in his favourite study.

The “diggings,” which they first got sight of in the afternoon of a fine and sunny but cool day, were at the mouth of a deep gorge at the lower end of the gully, having an abrupt mountain acclivity about eight hundred feet high on one side, and on the other a plain bounded by mountains. Here numbers of tents of all sizes and various shapes were pitched on the slopes and near the banks of the river that brawled down the centre of the little valley.

No sooner had the travellers entered the camp than the diggers left their work and flocked round them to ask the news, and, more particularly, to ascertain what provisions had been brought to the valley,—for the necessaries of life at that time were getting scarce, and the party from which Frank and his companions had separated, strange to say, had not arrived.

Great anxiety was manifested by the diggers on hearing of this separation, because on the safe and speedy arrival of that party they depended almost for their existence, and deep as well as loud were the expressions of disappointment and discontent when they were told that, if all had gone well, they should have been at the gully some days before.

Soon, however, the diggers had exhausted their queries and returned to their work, leaving the new arrivals to look after their own affairs. This they proceeded to do promptly.

“Now, friends,” said Jeffson, “our journeying together has come to an end, and it remains for you to settle whether you shall keep together and work in company, or separate. As for me, my business compels me to leave you. Yonder white tent, which you see about half a mile up the river, belongs to me and my partner. It is the great economico-universal store of Jeffson and Company, which supplies diggers liberally on the most moderate terms, giving credit as long as it seems advisable to do so. When Jeffson is absent, Company takes charge of the concern, and it is my opinion that Company will be kind o’ glad to-night to see the head of the firm come back safe and sound with fresh supplies. You see, gentlemen, I feel it sort of incumbent on me to make you a farewell speech as a fellow-traveller, because I mean to become a host for to-night, and ask you to come up to the store and partake of our hospitality. I am quite sure that you will acquit me of the unworthy motive of wishing to attract you as customers, when I tell you that I am already certain of your custom, seeing that there is no other store in the gully, and I guess you won’t be inclined to go down to Sacramento for supplies for some time to come.”