the new diggings—bright prospects—great results spring from great exertions, even in california—captain bunting is seized with a great passion for solitary rambling, and has two desperate encounters; one with a man, the other with a rear.
the part of the little creek diggings to which the gold-hunters transported their camp, was a wild, secluded spot, not much visited by the miners, partly on account of its gloomy appearance, and partly in consequence of a belief that the celestials located there were getting little or no gold. in this supposition they were correct. ah-wow and ko-sing being inveterately lazy, contented themselves with digging just enough gold to enable them to purchase a sufficiency of the necessaries of life. but the region was extremely rich, as our adventurers found out very soon after their arrival. one of the ravines, in particular, gave indications of being full of gold, and several panfuls of earth that were washed out shewed so promising a return, that the captain and larry were anxious to begin at once. they were overruled, however, by the others, who wished to make trial of the bed of the stream.
six days of severe labour were undergone by the whole party ere their task was accomplished, during which period they did not make an ounce of gold, while, at the same time, their little store was rapidly melting away. nevertheless, they worked heartily, knowing that a few days of successful digging would amply replenish their coffers. at grey dawn they set to work; some, with trousers tucked up, paddling about in the water all day, carrying mud and stones, while others felled trees and cut them into logs wherewith to form the dam required to turn the stream from its course. this was a matter of no small difficulty. a new bed had to be cut to the extent of eight or ten yards, but for a long time the free and jovial little mountain stream scorned to make such a pitiful twist in its course, preferring to burst its way headlong through the almost completed barricade by which it was pent-up.
twice did it accomplish this feat, and twice, in so doing, did it sweep captain bunting off his legs and roll him along bodily, in a turmoil of mud and stones and dirty water, roaring, as it gushed forth, as if in savage triumph. on the second occasion, bill jones shared the captain’s ducking, and all who chanced to be working about the dam at the time were completely drenched. but, however much their bodies might be moistened, no untoward accident could damp the ardour of their spirits. they resumed work again; repaired the breach, and, finally, turned the obstinate stream out of the course which, probably, it had occupied since creation. it rushed hissing, as if spitefully, along its new bed for a few yards, and then darted, at a right angle, back into its former channel, along which it leaped exultingly as before.
but the object for which all this trouble had been undertaken was attained. about eight yards of the old bed of the torrent were laid bare, and the water was drained away, whereat each of the party exhibited his satisfaction after his own peculiar manner—larry o’neil, as usual, giving vent to his joy in a hearty cheer.
the result was even more successful than had been anticipated. during the next few days the party conversed little; their whole energies being devoted to eating, sleeping, and digging. the bed of the stream was filled with stones, among which they picked up numerous nuggets of various sizes—from a pea to a walnut—some being almost pure gold, while others were, more or less, mixed with quartz. a large quantity of the heavy black sand was also found at the bottom of a hole, which once had been an eddy—it literally sparkled with gold-dust, and afforded a rich return for the labour previously expended in order to bring it to light. the produce of the first two days’ work was no less than fourteen pounds weight of gold!
the third day was the sabbath, and they rested from their work. it is, however, impossible for those who have never been in similar circumstances to conceive how difficult it was for our party of gold-hunters to refrain from resuming work as usual on that morning. some of them had never been trained to love or keep the sabbath, and would have certainly gone to work had not ned and the captain remonstrated. all were under great excitement in consequence of their valuable discovery, and anxious to know whether the run of luck was likely to continue, and not one of the party escaped the strong temptation to break the sabbath-day, except, indeed, the chinamen, who were too easy-going and lazy to care whether they worked or rested. but the inestimable advantage of good early training told at this time on ned sinton. it is questionable whether his principles were strong enough to have carried him through the temptation, but ned had been trained to reverence the lord’s-day from his earliest years, and he looked upon working on the sabbath with a feeling of dread which he could not have easily shaken off, even had he tried. the promise, in his case, was fulfilled—“train up a child in the way he should go, and he will not depart from it when he is old;” and though no mother’s voice of warning was heard in that wild region of the earth, and no guardian’s hand was there to beckon back the straggler from the paths of rectitude, yet he was not “let alone;” the arm of the lord was around him, and his voice whispered, in tones that could not be misunderstood, “remember the sabbath-day, to keep it holy.”
we have already said, that the sabbath at the mines was a day of rest as far as mere digging went, but this was simply for the sake of resting the wearied frame, not from a desire to glorify god. had any of the reckless miners who filled the gambling-houses been anxious to work during sunday on a prolific claim, he would not have hesitated because of god’s command.
the repose to their overworked muscles, and the feeling that they had been preserved from committing a great sin, enabled the party to commence work on monday with a degree of cheerfulness and vigour that told favourably on their profits that night, and in the course of a few days they dug out gold to the extent of nearly two thousand pounds sterling.
“we’re goin’ to get rich, no doubt of it,” said the captain one morning to ned, as the latter was preparing to resume work in the creek; “but i’ll tell you what it is, i’m tired o’ salt beef and pork, and my old hull is gettin’ rheumatic with paddling about barefoot in the water, so i mean to go off for a day’s shootin’ in the mountains.”
“very good, captain,” replied ned; “but i fear you’ll have to go by yourself, for we must work out this claim as fast as we can, seeing that the miners further down won’t be long of scenting out our discovery.”
ned’s words were prophetic. in less than half-an-hour after they were uttered a long-visaged yankee, in a straw hat, nankeen trousers, and fisherman’s boots, came to the spot where they were at work, and seated himself on the trunk of a tree hard by to watch their proceedings.
“guess you’ve got som’thin’,” he said, as larry, after groping in the mud for a little, picked up a lump of white quartz with a piece of gold the size of a marble embedded in the side of it.
“ah! but ye’re good for sore eyes,” cried larry, examining the nugget carefully.
“i say, stranger,” inquired the yankee, “d’ye git many bits like that in this location?”
the irishman regarded his question with an expressive leer. “arrah! now, ye won’t tell?” he said, in a hoarse whisper; “sure it’ll be the death o’ me av ye do. there’s no end o’ them things here—as many as ye like to pick; it’s only the day before to-morrow that i turned up a nugget of pure goold the size of me head; and the capting got hold o’ wan that’s only half dug out yet, an’ wot’s seen o’ ’t is as big as the head o’ a five-gallon cask—all pure goold.”
the yankee was not to be put off the scent by such a facetious piece of information. he continued to smoke in silence, sauntered about with his hands in his nankeen pockets, watched the proceedings of the party, inspected the dirt cast ashore, and, finally, dug out and washed a panful of earth from the banks of the stream, after which he threw away the stump of his cigar, and went off whistling. three hours later he returned with a party of friends, laden with tents, provisions, and mining tools, and they all took up their residence within twenty yards of our adventurers, and commenced to turn the course of the river just below them.
larry and jones were at first so angry that they seriously meditated committing an assault upon the intruders, despite the remonstrances of tom collins and maxton, who assured them that the new-comers had a perfect right to the ground they occupied, and that any attempt to interrupt them by violence would certainly be brought under the notice of judge lynch, whose favourite punishments, they well knew, were whipping and hanging.
meanwhile captain bunting had proceeded a considerable way on his solitary hunting expedition into the mountains, bent upon replenishing the larder with fresh provisions. he was armed with his favourite blunderbuss, a pocket-compass, and a couple of ship-biscuits. as he advanced towards the head of the valley, the scenery became more and more gloomy and rugged, but the captain liked this. having spent the greater part of his life at sea, he experienced new and delightful sensations in viewing the mountain-peaks and ravines by which he was now surrounded; and, although of a sociable turn of mind, he had no objection for once to be left to ramble alone, and give full vent to the feelings of romance and enthusiastic admiration with which his nautical bosom had been filled since landing in california.
towards noon, the captain reached the entrance to a ravine, or gorge, which opened upon the larger valley, into which it discharged a little stream from its dark bosom. there was an air of deep solitude and rugged majesty about this ravine that induced the wanderer to pause before entering it. just then, certain sensations reminded him of the two biscuits in his pocket, so he sat down on a rock and prepared to dine. we say prepared to dine, advisedly, for captain bunting had a pretty correct notion of what comfort meant, and how it was to be attained. he had come out for the day to enjoy himself and although his meal was frugal, he did not, on that account, eat it in an off-hand easy way, while sauntering along, as many would have done. by no means. he brushed the surface of the rock on which he sat quite clean, and, laying the two biscuits on it, looked first at one and then at the other complacently, while he slowly, and with great care, cut his tobacco into delicate shreds, and filled his pipe. then he rose, and taking the tin prospecting-pan from his belt, went and filled it at the clear rivulet which murmured at his feet, and placed it beside the biscuits on the rock. this done, he completed the filling of his pipe, and cast a look of benignity at the sun, which at that moment happened in his course to pass an opening between two lofty peaks, which permitted him to throw a cloth of gold over the captain’s table.
captain bunting’s mind now became imbued with those aspirations after knowledge, which would have induced him, had he been at sea, to inquire, “how’s her head?” so he pulled out his pocket-compass, and having ascertained that his nose, when turned towards the sun, pointed exactly “south-south-west, and by south,” he began dinner. thereafter he lit his pipe, and, reclining on the green turf beside the rock, with his head resting on his left hand, and wreaths of smoke encircling his visage, he—he enjoyed himself. to elaborate a description, reader, often weakens it—we cannot say more than that he enjoyed himself—emphatically.
had captain bunting known who was looking at him in that solitary place, he would not have enjoyed himself quite so much, nor would he have smoked his pipe so comfortably.
on the summit of the precipice at his back stood, or rather sat, one of the natives of the country, in the shape of a grizzly-bear. bruin had observed the captain from the time he appeared at the entrance of the ravine, and had watched him with a curious expression of stupid interest during all his subsequent movements. he did not attempt to interrupt him in his meal, however, on two grounds—first, because the nature of the grizzly-bear, if not molested, induces him to let others alone; and secondly, because the precipice, on the top of which he sat, although conveniently close for the purposes of observation, was too high for a safe jump.
thus it happened that captain bunting finished his meal in peace, and went on his way up the wild ravine, without being aware of the presence of so dangerous a spectator. he had not proceeded far, when his attention was arrested by the figure of a man seated on a ledge of rock that over hung a yawning gulf into which the little stream plunged.
so still did the figure remain, with the head drooping on the chest, as if in deep contemplation, that it might have been mistaken for a statue cut out of the rock on which it sat. a deep shadow was cast over it by the neighbouring mountain-peaks, yet, as the white sheet of a waterfall formed the background, it was distinctly visible.
the captain advanced towards it with some curiosity, and it was not until he was within a hundred yards that a movement at length proved it to be a living human being.
the stranger rose hastily, and advanced to meet a woman, who at the same moment issued from an opening in the brushwood near him. the meeting was evidently disagreeable to the woman, although, from the manner of it, and the place, it did not seem to be accidental; she pushed the man away several times, but their words were inaudible to the captain, who began to feel all the discomfort of being an unintentional observer. uncertainty as to what he should do induced him to remain for a few moments inactive, and he had half made up his mind to endeavour to retreat unobserved, when the man suddenly struck down the female, who fell with a faint cry to the earth.
in another minute the captain was at the side of the dastardly fellow, whom he seized by the neck with the left hand, while with the right he administered a hearty blow to his ribs. the man turned round fiercely, and grappled with his assailant; and then captain bunting became aware that his antagonist was no other than smith, alias black jim, the murderer.
smith, although a strong man, was no match for the captain, who soon overpowered him.
“ha! you villain, have i got you?” cried he, as he almost throttled the man. “get up now, an’ come along peaceably. if you don’t, i’ll knock your brains out with the butt of my gun.”
he permitted black jim to rise as he spoke, but held him fast by the collar, having previously taken from him his knife and rifle.
black jim did not open his lips, but the scowl on his visage shewed that feelings of deadly hatred burned in his bosom.
meanwhile, the girl had recovered, and now approached.
“ah! plase, sir,” she said, “let him off. shure i don’t mind the blow; it’s done me no harm—won’t ye, now?”
“let him off!” exclaimed the captain, violently; “no, my good girl; if he has not murdered you, he has at any rate murdered one human being that i know of, and if i can, i’ll bring him to justice.”
kate, (for it was she), started at this reply, and looked earnestly at the man, who hung his head, and, for the first time, shewed symptoms of a softer feeling.
“ah! it’s true, i see, an’ all hope is gone. if he’d commit a murder, he’d tell a lie too. i thought he spoke truth when he said nelly was alive, but—”
the girl turned as she spoke, and left the spot hurriedly, while the captain took out his pocket-handkerchief, and began to fasten the arms of his prisoner behind him. but black jim was not to be secured without a struggle. despair lent him energy and power. darting forward, he endeavoured to throw his captor down, and partially succeeded; but captain bunting’s spirit was fully roused, and, like most powerful men whose dispositions are habitually mild and peaceful, he was in a blaze of uncontrollable passion. for some time black jim writhed like a serpent in the strong grasp of his antagonist, and once or twice it seemed as if he would succeed in freeing himself, but the captain’s hands had been trained for years to grasp and hold on with vice-like tenacity, and no efforts could disengage them. the two men swayed to and fro in their efforts, no sound escaping them, save an occasional gasp for breath as they put forth renewed energy in the deadly struggle. at last black jim began to give way. he was forced down on one knee, then he fell heavily on his side, and the captain placed his knee on his chest.
just then a peculiar hiss was heard behind them, and the captain, looking back, observed that a third party had come upon the scene. the grizzly-bear, which has been described as watching captain bunting at dinner, had left its former position on the brow of the precipice, and, whether from motives of curiosity, or by accident, we will not presume to say, had followed the captain’s track. it now stood regarding the two men with an uncommonly ferocious aspect. its indignation may, perhaps, be accounted for by the fact that they stood in the only path by which it could advance—a precipice on one side and a thicket on the other rendering the passage difficult or impossible. grizzlies are noted for their objection to turn out of their way for man or beast, so the combatants no sooner beheld the ferocious-looking animal than they sprang up, seized their weapons, and fired together at their common enemy. bruin shook his head, uttered a savage growl, and charged. it seemed as if black jim had missed altogether—not to be wondered at considering the circumstances—and the mixture of shot and slugs from the blunderbuss was little more hurtful than a shower of hail to the thick-skinned monarch of these western hills. be this as it may, the two men were compelled to turn and flee for their lives. black jim, being the nimbler of the two, was soon out of sight among the rocks of the precipices, and, we may remark in passing, he did not again make his appearance. inwardly thanking the bear for its timely appearance, he ran at top speed into the mountains, and hid himself among those wild lonely recesses that are visited but rarely by man or beast.
captain bunting endeavoured to save himself by darting up the face of the precipice on his left, but the foot-hold was bad, and the bear proved about as nimble as himself, compelling him to leap down again and make for the nearest tree. in doing so, he tripped over a fallen branch, and fell with stunning violence to the ground. he rose, however, instantly, and grasping the lower limb of a small oak, drew himself with some difficulty up among the branches.
the bear came thundering on, and reached the tree a few seconds later. it made several abortive efforts to ascend, and then, sitting down at the foot, it looked up, grinning and growling horribly in disappointed rage.
the captain had dropped the blunderbuss in his fall, and now, with deep regret, and not a little anxiety, found himself unarmed and a prisoner. true, his long knife was still in its place, but he was too well aware of the strength and ferocity of the grizzly-bear—from hearsay, and now from ocular demonstration—to entertain the idea of acting on the offensive with such a weapon.
the sun sank behind the mountain-peaks, and the shades of night began to fall upon the landscape, and still did captain bunting and the bear sit—the one at the top, and the other at the foot of the oak-tree—looking at each other. as darkness came on, the form of the bear became indistinct and shadowy; and the captain’s eyes waxed heavy, from constant staring and fatigue, so that at length bruin seemed, to the alarmed fancy of the tree’d mariner, to be twice the size of an elephant. at last the darkness became so deep that its form mingled with the shadows on the ground, and for some time the uncertainty as to its actual presence kept the prisoner wakeful; but soon his eyes began to close, despite his utmost efforts to keep them open; and for two hours he endured an agonising struggle with sleep, compared to which his previous struggle with black jim was mere child’s-play. he tried every possible position among the branches, in the hope of finding one in which he might indulge in sleep without the risk of falling, but no such position was to be found; the limbs of the tree were too small and too far apart.
at last, however, he did find a spot to lie down on, and, with a sigh of relief, lay back to indulge in repose. alas! the spot was a myth—he merely dreamed it; the next moment he dropt, like a huge over-ripe pear, to the ground. fortunately a bush broke the violence of his fall, and, springing up with a cry of consternation, he rushed towards the tree, expecting each instant to feel the terrible hug of his ursine enemy. the very marrow in his back-bone seemed to shrink, for he fancied that he actually felt the dreaded claws sinking into his flesh. in his haste he missed the branch, and fell violently forward, scratching himself terribly among the bushes. again he rose, and a cold perspiration broke out upon him as he uttered an involuntary howl of terror, and once more leaped up at the limb of the oak, which he could just barely see. he caught it; despair nerved him, and in another moment he was safe, and panting violently among the branches.
we need scarcely say that this little episode gave his feelings such a tremendous shock that his tendency to sleep was thoroughly banished; but another and a better result flowed from it,—the involuntary hubbub created by his yells and crashing falls reached listening and not far-distant ears.
during their evening meal that day, ned sinton and his comrades had speculated pretty freely, and somewhat jocularly, on the probable result of the captain’s hunting expedition—expressing opinions regarding the powers of the blunderbuss, which it was a shame, larry o’neil said, “to spake behind its back;” but as night drew on, they conversed more seriously, and when darkness had fairly set in they became anxious.
“it’s quite clear that something’s wrong,” cried ned sinton, entering the tent hastily, “we must up and search for him. the captain’s not the man to lose his way with a compass in his pocket and so many landmarks round him.”
all the party rose at once, and began to buckle on belts and arm, while eagerly suggesting plans of search.
“who can make a torch?” inquired ned.
“here’s one ready made to hand,” cried maxton, seizing a huge pine-knot and lighting it.
“some one must stay behind to look after our things. the new-comers who camped beside us to-day are not used to mining life, and don’t sufficiently know the terrors of lynch law. do you stop, maxton. now then, the rest of you, come along.”
ned issued from the tent as he spoke, and walked at a rapid pace along the track leading up the valley, followed closely by tom collins, larry o’neil, and bill jones—all of whom were armed with rifles, revolvers, and bowie-knives. for a long time they walked on in silence, guided by the faint light of the stars, until they came to the flat rock which had formed the captain’s dinner-table. here they called a halt, in order to discuss the probability of their lost comrade having gone up the ravine. the question was soon settled by larry, who discovered a few crumbs of the biscuit lying on the rock, and footprints leading up the ravine; for the captain, worthy man, had stepped recklessly into the little stream when he went to fill his pannikin, and his wet feet left a distinct track behind him for some distance.
“he can’t have gone far up such a wild place as this,” said tom collins, while they moved cautiously along. “kindle the torch, ned, it will light us on our way, and be a guide to the captain if he’s within sight.”
“it will enlighten enemies, too, if any are within range,” replied ned, hesitating.
“oh, no fear,” rejoined tom, “our greatest enemy is darkness; here, jones, hand me your match-box.”
in a few seconds the torch flared forth, casting a broad glare of light on their path, as they advanced, examining the foot of precipices.
“give a shout, larry,” said ned.
larry obeyed, and all listened intently, but, save the echo from the wild cliffs, no reply was heard.
had the captain been wide-awake at the time, he would, doubtless, have heard the friendly shout, but his ears were dull from prolonged watching. it was thought needless to repeat the cry, so the party resumed their search with anxious forebodings in their hearts, though their lips were silent.
they had not proceeded far, however, when the noise occasioned by the captain’s fall from the tree, as already described, struck upon their ears.
“och! what’s that?” exclaimed larry, with a look of mingled surprise and superstitious fear.
for a minute the party seemed transformed into statues, as each listened intently to the mysterious sounds.
“they come from the other side of the point ahead,” remarked ned, in a whisper. “light another torch, larry, and come on—quick!”
ned led the way at a run, holding one of the torches high above his head, and in a few minutes passed round the point above referred to. the glare of his torch immediately swept far ahead, and struck with gladsome beam on the now wakeful eye of the captain, who instantly greeted it with one of his own peculiarly powerful and eminently nautical roars.
“hooroo!” yelled larry, in reply, dashing forward at full speed. “here we are all right, capting, comin’ to the rescue; don’t give in, capting; pitch into the blackguards—”
“look out for the grizzly-bear,” roared the captain, as his friends advanced at a run, waving their torches encouragingly.
the whole party came to a dead halt on this unexpected caution, and each cocked his piece as they looked, first into the gloom beyond, and then at each other, in surprise and perplexity.
“halloo! captain, where are you?” shouted ned.
“and where’s the bear!” added tom collins.
“right in front o’ you,” replied the captain, “about fifty yards on. the bear’s at the bottom o’ the tree, and i’m a-top of it. come on, and fire together; but aim low, d’ye hear?”
“ay, ay, sir,” replied bill jones, as if he were answering a command on shipboard, while he advanced boldly in the direction indicated.
the others were abreast of him instantly, ned and larry holding the torches high in their left hands as they approached, step by step, with rifles ready for instant use.
“have a care,” cried the captain; “i see him. he seems to be crouchin’ to make a rush.”
this caused another halt; but as no rush was made, the party continued to advance very slowly.
“oh! av ye would only shew yerself,” said larry, in a suppressed tone of exasperation at being kept so long in nervous expectation.
“i see him,” cried ned, taking aim.
the rest of the party cried “where!” aimed in the same direction, and the whole fired a volley, the result of which was, that captain bunting fell a second time to the ground, crashing through the branches with a terrible noise, and alighting heavily at the foot of the tree. to the surprise of all, he instantly jumped up, and seizing ned and tom as they came up, shook them warmly by the hand.
“och! are ye not shot, capting?” exclaimed larry.
“not a bit; not even hurt,” answered the captain, laughing.
the fact was, that captain bunting, in his anxiety to escape being accidentally shot by his comrades, had climbed to the utmost possible height among the tender top branches of the oak. when the volley was fired, he lost his balance, fell through the tree, the under branches of which happily broke his fall, and finally alighted on the back of the grizzly-bear itself, which lay extended, and quite dead, on the ground.
“faix we’ve polished him off for wance,” cried larry, in the excess of his triumph, as he stood looking at the fallen bear.
“faix we’ve done nothing of the sort,” retorted tom collins, who was examining the carcase. “it’s been dead for hours, and is quite cold. every bullet has missed, too, for the shot that settled him is on the side next the ground. so much for hasty shooting. had bruin been alive when we fired, i’m inclined to think that some of us would not be alive now.”
“now, that’s wot i wos sure of,” remarked bill jones. “wot i says is this—w’en yer goin’ aloft to reef to’sails, don’t be in a hurry. it’s o’ no manner o’ use tryin’ to shove on the wind. if ye’ve got a thing to do, do it slow—slow an’ sure. if ye haven’t got a thing to do, in coorse ye can’t do it, but if ye have, don’t be in a hurry—i says.”
bill jones’s maxim is undoubtedly a good one. not a scratch had the bear received from any one of the party. the bullet of black jim had laid him low. although hurriedly aimed, it had reached the animal’s heart, and all the time that captain bunting was struggling to overcome his irresistible tendency to sleep, poor bruin was lying a helpless and lifeless body at the foot of the oak-tree.
