The Golden Dream: Adventures in the Far West

“Pshaw!” cried Ned, at last, urging his horse forward, and throwing his piece on his shoulder, “we are starting at the rustling of the night wind; come, come, Tom, don’t let us indulge superstitious feelings—”

At that moment there was a crash in the bushes on both sides of them, and their horses reared wildly, as four men rushed upon them. Before their steeds became manageable, they were each seized by a leg, and hurled from their saddles. In the fall, their rifles were thrown out of their grasp into the bushes; but this mattered little, for in a close struggle pistols are better weapons. Seizing their revolvers, Ned and Tom instantly sprang up, and fired at their assailants, but without effect, both being so much shaken by their fall. The robbers returned the fire, also without effect. In the scuffle, Ned was separated from his friend, and only knew that he maintained the fight manfully, from the occasional shots that were fired near him. His whole attention, however, had to be concentrated on the two stalwart ruffians with whom he was engaged.

Five or six shots were fired at a few yards’ distance, quick as lightning, yet, strange to say, all missed. Then the taller of the two opposed to Ned, hurled his revolver full in his face, and rushed at him. The pistol struck Ned on the chest, and almost felled him, but he retained his position, and met the highwayman with a well-directed blow of his fist right between the eyes. Both went down, under the impetus of the rush, and the second robber immediately sprang upon Ned, and seized him by the throat. But he little knew the strength of the man with whom he had to deal. Our hero caught him in the iron grasp of his right hand, while, with his left, he hurled aside the almost inanimate form of his first assailant; then, throwing the other on his back, he placed his knee on his chest, and drew his bowie-knife.

Even in the terrible passion of mortal combat, Ned shuddered at the thought of slaying a helpless opponent. He threw the knife aside, and struck the man violently with his fist on the forehead, and then sprang up to rescue Tom who, although he had succeeded at the outset in felling one of the robbers with the butt of his pistol, was still engaged in doubtful strife with a man of great size and power. When Ned came up, the two were down on their knees, each grasping the other’s wrist in order to prevent their bowie-knives from being used. Their struggles were terrible; for each knew that the first who freed his right hand would instantly take the other’s life. Ned settled the matter, however, by again using his fist, which he applied so promptly to the back of the robber’s neck, that he dropped as if he had been shot.

“Thank you—God bless you, Ned,” gasped Tom, as soon as he recovered breath; “you have saved my life, for certainly I could not have held out a minute longer. The villain has all but broken my right arm.”

“Never mind,” cried Ned, stooping down, and turning the stunned robber over on his face, “give me a hand, boy; we must not let the fellows recover and find themselves free to begin the work over again. Take that fellow’s neckcloth and tie his hands behind his back.”

Tom obeyed at once, and in a few minutes the four highwaymen were bound hand and foot, and laid at the side of the road.

“Now,” said Ned, “we must push on to the nearest settlement hot-haste, and bring a party out to escort—Halloo! Tom, are you wounded?”

“Not badly—a mere cut on the head.”

“Why, your face is all covered with blood!”

“It’s only in consequence of my wiping it with a bloody handkerchief, then; but you can examine, and satisfy yourself.”

“The wound is but slight, I see,” rejoined Ned, after a brief manipulation of Tom’s skull; “now, then, let us away.”

“We’ll have to catch our horses first, and that won’t be an easy matter.”

Tom was right. It cost them half-an-hour to secure them and recover their rifles and other arms, which had been scattered over the field of battle. On returning to the spot where the robbers lay, they found them all partially recovered, and struggling violently to free themselves. Three of them failed even to slacken their bonds, but the fourth, the powerful man who had nearly overcome Tom Collins, had well-nigh freed his hands when his captors came up.

“Lie quiet,” said Ned, in a low tone, “if you don’t want the butt of my rifle on your skull.”

The man lay down instantly.

“Tom, go and cut a stake six feet long, and I’ll watch these fellows till you come back.”

The stake was soon brought and lashed to the robber’s back in such a manner that he was rendered utterly powerless. The others were secured in a similar manner, and then the two travellers rode forward at a gallop.

For nearly an hour they continued to advance without speaking or drawing rein. At the end of that time, while sweeping round the jutting base of a precipitous rock, they almost ran into a band of horsemen who were trotting briskly towards them. Both parties halted, and threw forward their rifles, or drew their revolvers for instant use, gazing at each other the while in silent surprise at the suddenness of their meeting.

“Give in, ye villains,” at last shouted a stern voice, “or we’ll blow ye out o’ the saddle. You’ve no chance; down your arms, I say.”

“Not until I know what right you have to command us,” replied Ned, somewhat nettled at the overbearing tone of his opponent. “We are peaceable travellers, desiring to hurt no one; but if we were not, surely so large a party need not be afraid. We don’t intend to run away, still less do we intend to dispute your passage.”

The strangers lowered their fire-arms, as if half-ashamed at being surprised into a state of alarm by two men.

“Who said we were ‘afraid,’ young man?” continued the first speaker, riding up with his comrades, and eyeing the travellers narrowly. “Where have you come from, and how comes it that your clothes are torn, and your faces covered with blood?”

The party of horsemen edged forward, as he spoke, in such a manner as to surround the two friends, but Ned, although he observed the movement, was unconcerned, as, from the looks of the party, he felt certain they were good men and true.

“You are a close interrogator for a stranger,” he replied. “Perhaps you will inform me where you have come from, and what is your errand in these lonesome places at this hour of the night?”

“I’ll tell ye wot it is, stranger,” answered another of the party—a big, insolent sort of fellow—“we’re out after a band o’ scoundrels that have infested them parts for a long time, an’ it strikes me you know more about them than we do.”

“Perhaps you are right,” answered Ned.

“Mayhap they’re not very, far off from where we’re standin’,” continued the man, laying his hand on Tom Collins’s shoulder. Tom gave him a look that induced him to remove the hand.

“Right again,” rejoined Ned, with a smile. “I know where the villains are, and I’ll lead you to them in an hour, if you choose to follow me.”

The men looked at each other in surprise.

“You’ll not object to some o’ us ridin’ before, an’ some behind ye!” said the second speaker, “jist by way o’ preventin’ yer hosses from runnin’ away; they looks a little skeary.”

“By no means,” answered Ned, “lead on; but keep off the edge of the track till I call a halt.”

“Why so, stranger?”

“Never mind, but do as I bid you.”

The tone in which this was said effectually silenced the man, and during the ride no further questions were asked. About a quarter-of-an-hour afterwards the moon rose, and they advanced at such a rapid pace that in a short time they were close upon the spot where the battle had taken place. Just before reaching it Ned called a halt, and directed the party to dismount and follow him on foot. Although a good deal surprised, they obeyed without question; for our hero possessed, in an eminent degree, the power of constituting himself a leader among those with whom he chanced to come into contact.

Fastening his horse to a tree, Ned led the men forward a hundred yards.

“Are these the men you search for!” he inquired.

“They are, sir,” exclaimed one of the party, in surprise, as he stooped to examine the features of the robbers, who lay where they had been left.

“Halloo!” exclaimed Tom Collins, “I say, the biggest fellow’s gone! Didn’t we lay him hereabouts?”

“Eh! dear me, yes; why, this is the very spot, I do believe—”

All further remarks were checked at that moment by the sound of horses’ hoofs approaching, and, almost before any one could turn round, a horseman came thundering down the pass at full gallop. Uttering a savage laugh of derision, he discharged his pistol full into the centre of the knot of men as he passed, and, in another moment, was out of sight. Several of the onlookers had presence of mind enough to draw their pistols and fire at the retreating figure, but apparently without effect.

“It’s him!” cried Tom Collins; “and he’s mounted on your horse, Ned.”

“After him, lads!” shouted Ned, as he ran back towards the place where the horses were fastened. “Whose is the best horse?”

“Hold on, stranger,” said one of the men, as he ran up to Ned, “ye may save yer wind. None o’ the horses can overtake your one, I guess. I was lookin’ at him as we came along. It would only be losin’ time for nothin’, an’ he’s miles ahead by this time.”

Ned Sinton felt that the man’s remarks were too true, so he returned to the spot where the remaining robbers lay, and found that the miners had cut their fastenings, and were busily engaged in rebinding their hands behind them, preparatory to carrying them back to their settlement. It was discovered that the lashings of one of the men had been partly severed with a knife, and, as he could not have done it himself, it was plain that the robber who had escaped must have done it, and that the opportune arrival of the party had prevented him from accomplishing his purpose. How the man had broken his own bonds was a mystery that could not now be solved, but it was conjectured they must have been too weak, and that he had burst them by main strength.

Another discovery was now made, namely, that one of the three robbers secured was no other than Black Jim himself; the darkness of the night had prevented Ned and Tom from making this discovery during the fight.

In less time than we have taken to describe it, the robbers were secured, and each was mounted behind one of his captors.

“Ain’t you goin’ with us?” inquired one of the men, observing that Ned Sinton stood leaning on his rifle, as if he meant to remain behind.

“No,” answered Ned; “my companion and I have travelled far to-day, besides fighting a somewhat tough battle; we mean to camp here for the night, and shall proceed to your settlement to-morrow.”

The men endeavoured to dissuade them from their purpose, but they were both fatigued, and persisted in their determination. The impression they had made, however, on their new friends was so favourable, that one of their number, a Yankee, offered the loan of his horse to Ned, an offer which the latter accepted thankfully, promising to return it safe and sound early on the following day. Five minutes later the sound of the retreating hoofs died away, and the travellers stood silently side by side in the gloomy ravine.

For a few minutes neither spoke; then Ned heaved a sigh, and, looking in his companion’s face with a serio-comically-sad expression, said:

“It may not, perhaps, have occurred to you, Tom, but are you aware that we are a couple of beggars?”

“If you use the term in its slang sense, and mean to insinuate that we are a couple of unfortunate beggars, I agree with you.”

“Well, I’ve no objection,” rejoined Ned, “to your taking my words in that sense; but I mean to say that, over and above that, we are real, veritable, bona fide beggars, inasmuch as we have not a sixpence in the world.”

Tom Collins’s visage grew exceedingly long.

“Our united purse,” pursued Ned, “hung, as you are aware, at my saddle-bow, and yon unmitigated villain who appropriated my good steed, is now in possession of all our hard-earned gold!”

Tom’s countenance became preternaturally grave, but he did not venture to speak.

“Now,” continued Ned, forcing a smile, “there is nothing for it but to make for the nearest diggings, commence work again, and postpone our travels to a future and more convenient season. We may laugh at it as we please, my dear fellow, but there’s no denying that we are in what the Yankees would call an ‘oncommon fix.’”

Ned’s remark as to “laughing at it,” was altogether uncalled for and inappropriate, for his own smile might have been more correctly termed a grin, and nothing was further from Tom Collins’s thoughts at that moment than laughing.

“Are the victuals gone too?” inquired Ned, hastily.

Both turned their eyes towards Tom Collins’s horse, which grazed hard by, and both heaved a sigh of relief on observing that the saddle-bags were safe. This was a small drop of comfort in their otherwise bitter cup, and they made the most of it. Each, as if by a common impulse, pretending that he cared very little about the matter, and assuming that the other stood in need of being cheered and comforted, went about the preparations for encamping with a degree of reckless joviality that insensibly raised their spirits, not only up to but considerably above the natural level; and when at last they had spread out their viands, and lighted their fire and their pipes, they were, according to Tom’s assertion, “happy as kings.”

The choosing of a spot to encamp on formed the subject of an amicable dispute.

“I recommend the level turf under this oak,” said Ned, pointing to a huge old tree, whose gnarled limbs covered a wide space of level sward.

“It’s too low,” objected Tom, (Tom could always object—a quality which, while it acted like an agreeable dash of cayenne thrown into the conversation of some of his friends, proved to be sparks applied to gunpowder in that of others;) “it’s too low, and, doubtless, moist. I think that yonder pine, with its spreading branches and sweet-smelling cones, and carpet of moss below, is a much more fitting spot.”

“Now, who is to decide the question if I don’t give in, Tom? For I assume, of course, that you will never give in.”

At that moment an accident occurred which decided the question for them. It frequently happens that some of the huge, heavy branches of the oaks in America become so thoroughly dried and brittle by the intense heat of summer, that they snap off without a moment’s warning, often when there is not a breath of air sufficient to stir a leaf. This propensity is so well-known to Californian travellers that they are somewhat careful in selecting their camping ground, yet, despite all their care, an occasional life is lost by the falling of such branches.

An event of this kind occurred at the present time. The words had barely passed Ned’s lips, when a large limb of the oak beside which they stood snapt off with a loud report, and fell with a crash to the ground.

“That settles it,” said Tom, somewhat seriously, as he led his horse towards the pine-tree, and proceeded to spread his blanket beneath its branches.

In a few minutes the bright flame of their camp-fire threw a lurid glare on the trees and projecting cliffs of the wild pass, while they cooked and ate their frugal meal of jerked beef and biscuit. They conversed little during the repast or after it, for drowsiness began to steal over them, and it was not long before they laid their heads, side by side, on their saddles, and murmuring “Good-night,” forgot their troubles in the embrace of deep, refreshing slumber.

Chapter Seventeen.

A Curious and Valuable Draught—Lynch Law applied—Black Jim’s Confession—Ned becomes a Painter, and finds the Profession Profitable as well as Amusing—The First Portrait

Next morning the travellers were up and away by daybreak, and in the afternoon they came upon a solitary miner who was prospecting in a gulch near the road-side.

This word gulch is applied to the peculiarly abrupt, short ravines, which are a characteristic feature in Californian more than in any other mountains. The weather was exceedingly hot, and the man took off his cap and wiped his streaming brow as he looked at the travellers who approached him.

“Ha! you’ve got water there, I see,” cried Tom Collins, leaping off his horse, seizing a cup which stood on the ground full of clear water, and draining it eagerly.

“Stop!” cried the man, quickly.

“Why!” inquired Tom, smacking his lips.

The miner took the empty cup and gazed inquiringly into it.

“Humph! you’ve drunk it, every grain.”

“Drop, you mean,” suggested Tom, laughing at the man’s expression; “of course I have, and why not? There’s plenty more of the same tap here.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind the water,” replied the man, “if ye had only left the gold-dust behind, but you’ve finished that too.”

“You don’t mean it!” gasped Tom, while the questions flashed across his mind—Is gold-dust poison? And if not, is it digestible? “How—how much have I swallowed?”

“Only about two dollars—it don’t signify,” answered the man, joining in the burst of laughter to which Ned and Tom gave way on this announcement.

“I’m afraid we must owe you the sum, then,” said Ned, recovering his composure, “for we have only one dollar left, having been robbed last night; but as we mean to work in this neighbourhood, I dare say you will trust us.”

The man agreed to this, and having directed the travellers to the settlement of Weaver Creek, resumed his work, while they proceeded on their way. Tom’s digestion did not suffer in consequence of his golden draught, and we may here remark, for the benefit of the curious, that he never afterwards experienced any evil effects from it. We may further add, that he did not forget to discharge the debt.

After half-an-hour’s ride they came in sight of a few straggling diggers, from whom they learned that the settlement, or village, or town of Weaver Creek was about two miles further on, and in a quarter of an hour they reached it.

The spot on which it stood was wild and romantic, embosomed among lofty wooded hills, whose sides were indented by many a rich ravine, and seamed by many a brawling water-course. Here digging was, as the miners have it, in full blast. Pick, and shovel, and cradle, and long-tom, and prospecting-pan—all were being plied with the utmost energy and with unwearied perseverance. The whole valley was cut up and converted into a net-work of holes and mud-heaps, and the mountain slopes were covered with the cabins, huts, and canvas tents of the miners.

About the centre of the settlement, which was a very scattered one, stood a log-house or cabin, of somewhat larger dimensions than the generality of those around it. This was the grand hotel, restaurant, and gambling-house of the place, besides being the scene of the trials and executions that occasionally took place. Some such work was going forward when our travellers rode up, for the area in front of the hotel was covered with a large concourse of miners.

“I suspect they are about to try the poor wretches who attacked us last night,” said Ned, dismounting at the door of the house.

He had scarcely spoken, when a couple of men ran towards them.

“Here you are, strangers,” they cried, “come along and bear witness agin’ them blackguards; they’re just about to be strung up. We’ll look after your horses.”

The duty was a disagreeable one, but it could not be avoided, so Ned and Tom suffered themselves to be led into the centre of the ring where the three culprits were standing already pinioned, and with the ropes round their necks. For a short time silence was obtained while Ned stated the circumstances of the robbery, and also the facts regarding the murder of which Black Jim had been previously found guilty. Then there was a general shout of “String ’em up!” “Up wi’ the varmints!” and such phrases; but a short respite was granted in consequence of Black Jim expressing a desire to speak with Ned Sinton.

“What have you to say to me?” inquired Ned, in a low tone, as he walked close up to the wretched man, who, although his minutes on earth were numbered, looked as if he were absolutely indifferent to his fate.

“I’ve only to say,” answered the culprit, sternly, “that of all the people I leaves behind me in this world there’s but one I wish I hadn’t bin bad to, and that’s Kate Morgan. You know something of her, though you’ve never seen her—I know that. Tell her I—no, tell her she’ll find the gold I robbed her of at the foot o’ the pine-tree behind the tent she’s livin’ in jist now. An’ tell her that her little sister’s not dead, though she don’t believe me. I took the child to—”

“Come, come, ha’ done wi’ yer whisperin’,” cried several of the bystanders, who were becoming impatient of delay.

“Have patience,” said Ned, raising his hand. “The man is telling me something of importance.”

“I’ve done,” growled Black Jim, scowling on the crowd with a look of hate; “I wish I hadn’t said so much.”

The rope was tightened as he spoke, and Ned, turning abruptly on his heel, hurried away with his friend from the spot just as the three robbers were run up and suspended from the branch of the tree, beneath and around which the crowd stood.

Entering the inn, and seating themselves in a retired corner of the crowded gambling-room, Ned and Tom proceeded to discuss their present prospects and future plans in a frame of mind that was by no means enviable. They were several hundreds of miles distant from the scene of their first home at the diggings, without a dollar in their pockets, and only a horse between them. With the exception of the clothes on their backs, and Ned’s portfolio of drawing materials, which he always carried slung across his shoulder, they had nothing else in the world. Their first and most urgent necessity was supper, in order to procure which it behoved them to sell Tom’s horse. This was easily done, as, on application to the landlord, they were directed to a trader who was on the point of setting out on an expedition to Sacramento city, and who readily purchased the horse for less than half its value.

Being thus put in possession of funds sufficient at least for a few days, they sat down to supper with relieved minds, and afterwards went out to stroll about the settlement, and take a look at the various diggings. The miners here worked chiefly at the bars or sand-banks thrown up in various places by the river which coursed through their valley; but the labour was severe, and the return not sufficient to attract impatient and sanguine miners, although quite remunerative enough to those who wrought with steady perseverance. The district had been well worked, and many of the miners were out prospecting for new fields of labour. A few companies had been formed, and these, by united action and with the aid of long-toms, were well rewarded, but single diggers and pan-washers were beginning to become disheartened.

“Our prospects are not bright,” observed Tom, sitting down on a rock close to the hut of a Yankee who was delving busily in a hole hard by.

“True,” answered Ned, “in one sense they are not bright, but in another sense they are, for I never yet, in all my travels, beheld so beautiful and bright a prospect of land and water as we have from this spot. Just look at it, Tom; forget your golden dreams for a little, if you can, and look abroad upon the splendid face of nature.”

Ned’s eye brightened as he spoke, for his love and admiration of the beauties and charms of nature amounted almost to a passion. Tom, also, was a sincere admirer of lovely, and especially of wild, scenery, although he did not express his feelings so enthusiastically.

“Have you got your colours with you?” he inquired.

“I have; and if you have patience enough to sit here for half-an-hour I’ll sketch it. If not, take a stroll, and you’ll find me here when you return.”

“I can admire nature for even longer than that period, but I cannot consent to watch a sketcher of nature even for five minutes, so I’ll take a stroll.”

In a few minutes Ned, with book on knee and pencil in hand, was busily engaged in transferring the scene to paper, oblivious of gold, and prospects, and everything else, and utterly ignorant of the fact that the Yankee digger, having become curious as to what the stranger could be about, had quitted his hole, and now stood behind him quietly looking over his shoulder.